Lil would have to be told some day, but it would be cruel to tell her yet. At last one of the girls agreed to go with Lil to the photographer's—a big, soft-hearted thing, Mabel, called "Mybel," working on the night-shift. On the day appointed she got up early in the afternoon and went round to Lil's house. It was like going to a funeral. There was the little mother in the back parlour, up and dressed, and baby was dressed too, and everything was arranged with the photographer, and after the photograph had been taken and printed (it was to be finished off in half an hour) and posted with the letter, they were to come back to tea. It was heart-breaking.
But at that very moment there came a knock at the outside door. Lil's mother went to open it, and—Private Will himself came marching through the lobby into the room!
When "Mybel," amid gusts of tears, told the story in the factory that night, the girls laughed and cried like children.
