Then the news was carried the length of the Scotch express.
A little child had fallen out of the train while his mother was asleep. The lady's dog had gone too!
All the heads disappeared, with different expressions of sorrow for the poor young mother, and that was all.
Not quite, though!
One bright face reappeared. A girlish hand unfastened the carriage door, and in another moment a young lady had scrambled down to the six-foot way and, with her handbag and a bundle of wraps, was making her way to an open door, from which came the sound of bitter, hysterical weeping.
"Guard, I have come to see if I can help in any way. What are you going to do?"
"There is but one way, mem. Yonder comes Jack. He's seen nothing, I'm fearing. We must put the gude leddie down at the next station, and she maun get an engine there and go seek the puir bit bairn."
"Very well, guard. Then I will stay with this lady until we stop." And as the old man thankfully returned to his duties and the train was quickly put in motion, she sat down and put a pair of sisterly arms round the distracted stranger.
"Let us think what we will do," she said in her kind cheery voice, "and let us remember that the angels have been about your little one all this time. It may not be as bad as we think."
"We? Who are you?" asked the dazed, bewildered mother. "I don't know you."