"I've some headache pills--they are wonderful for nervous headaches. You would not like to try them, would you?" asked Denys. "Mother has these dreadful nervous headaches and nothing else has ever been any good to her." "I'd try them, Miss, and be thankful." Denys ran upstairs and came back to the kitchen, "Could you not just lie down for half-an-hour's sleep?" she said, "you might wake up with it all gone." Mary shook her head dolefully. "It's the milkman, Miss, and I wouldn't hear the door bell in my room." Denys laughed. "I have attended on the milkman before now, and I can open the front door if necessary," said she cheerfully. "Now run away upstairs, and I'll call you in plenty of time to get the tea ready. I don't suppose I had better undertake that!" "You are real good, Miss," said Mary gratefully, "if I do see my brother to-night, I shall tell him it was all your doing." Denys smiled to herself happily as she went back to the dining-room, and sat down to write to Charlie and to listen for the door bell. She had hated to go away with the remembrance of Mary's unpleasant looks, and the little bit of sympathy she had offered had turned Mary into a friend. When Denys and Gertrude arrived at the station the next day, little Harry was already there, smiling and radiant. He greeted Denys as a very old friend, and did not appear to be the least homesick. The journey was of the most intense interest to him, till at last the rush and roar of the train made him drowsy, and he climbed contentedly into Denys's arms and fell asleep. Denys sat watching him for a long time, wondering what his new life was to be, and she was somewhat surprised to find Gertrude's eyes also fixed upon the little face. "I hope the people that child is going to will be good to him," she said. "What do you know about them?" "Nothing!" said Denys. "His mother said her brother had promised to take him, but she had never seen the wife. Perhaps we shall see her at Mixham, but anyhow, we can't do anything except look him up now and then." "Humph!" said Gertrude, "I should pity anybody who was in charge of the woman who washes at the house at the bottom of our garden. _She_ comes from Mixham; Pattie used to be engaged to her brother. She looks a perfect vixen." "Used to be engaged?" repeated Denys, startled. "You don't mean to say it is broken off? Poor Pattie!" "Not poor Pattie at all," answered Gertrude sharply. "_He_ was as poor as anything, and his isn't the sort of trade where they ever get much money. Why, here's Mixham! Where's that child's hat? Wake up, Tommy, or Harry, or whatever your name is!" Jim Adams, as he had promised, had come down to meet Harry, and if he had been asked what sort of a child he was going to look for, he would have pointed to one of a dozen little urchins, playing up and down his own street, and said that boys were all alike.