"The landlady and her children.
Her husband was a porter at the railway station, and had been detained on overtime.

He only came back a quarter of an hour ago, and he's been going on like a madman;" and he pointed to the porter, who was sitting down on the doorsteps of a house facing his own, with his face hidden in his hands.
Frank went and sat down beside him.
"My poor fellow," he said, "I am sorry for you." Frank had had many chats with his landlord of an evening, and had become quite friendly with him and his wife.
"I can't believe it," the man said huskily.

"Just to think! When I went out this morning there was Jane and the kids, as well and as happy as ever, and there, where are they now ?" "Happier still," Frank said gently.

"I lost my mother just as suddenly only five weeks ago.

I went out for a walk, leaving her as well as usual, and when I came back she was dead; so I can feel for you with all my heart." "I would have given my life for them," the man said, wiping his eyes, "willing." "I'm sure you would," Frank answered.
"There's the home gone," the man said, "with all the things that it took ten years' savings of Jane and me to buy; not that that matters one way or the other now.