"Strange," answered Betty, with ready sympathy, "Poor child, I hope he will live." As they reached Mr. Mellor's door, the Army man came out. He met Betty's gaze with a far-away look of intense pre-occupation. "You will surely send word directly?" asked Mellor. "Assuredly," he answered, in a husky voice. As he made his answer, Betty looked once more in the face of the stranger. Again their eyes met. A scarlet flush surmounted to his temples. He turned hastily and made a hurried exit. Betty stood thoughtful. "You know him?" asked Mellor, surprised. "Yes, and no, his eyes are so perfectly familiar. I must have met him somewhere. I can't place him, though." "Come, you are getting fanciful," said Mellor gently, and he led her to his room. Upon the bed lay out-stretched the long slim figure of a boy of fourteen. His dark curly hair was a striking contrast to the white handsome face, so death-like in its unconscious state. Betty approached the bed softly. One moment she looked at the still form. Her own face became deathly white. In consternation, Mellor took her arm. "What is it?" he exclaimed. Unheeding his question, she slipped to the side of the bed and sank to her knees. "Harold! Harold!" she cried in sudden anguish. Then her head bowed in prayer. Reverently Mellor lowered his eyes, and stood awaiting her in silence. Betty prayed with her while heart and strength. Finally, Mellor left the room, and closed the door gently. "Some great sorrow is hers," he said wondering. At midnight, the bell rang sharply. Edgeway, guessing it to be the parents of the boy, opened the door. "I have come in response to a telephone saying my boy is hurt, and has refuge here," said the man who confronted him. "I am glad you have come quickly. The doctor attending him will return any minute. He thinks the case is extremely serious. This way, please," and he led George up to the room where Harold lay. "One moment," he said, as he reached the door. Opening it carefully, he discovered Betty still at prayer. She did not even hear the opening of the door. "Miss Emmit," he said softly, "the boy's father is here." Betty started. Summoning all her strength of mind, she arose slowly, and stood by the bed. "Come in," said Edgeway kindly. Hurriedly George entered. Eagerly his eyes scanned the form upon the bed. He did not instantly perceive Betty. From the prostrate Harold, he glanced up at the woman standing near by. "It can't be you, Betty!" he exclaimed, with his eyes thrilling her with their warm welcome. "It is Betty," she returned gravely, her lips quivering with strong emotion. "O, George, forget my presence. Fetch Alma, it may be that Harold won't live. This is Mr. Edgeway," she added, suddenly realizing they were not alone. The two men shook hands. Then, leaning over Harold, George examined him carefully.