out
of his breast pocket a large sheet of notepaper folded in four. He
opened it, and held it out to her. It was headed "War Office, Whitehall,
London," and in it Jervis Blake, Esquire, was curtly informed that, if
he still desired to enter the Army, he was at liberty to apply for a
commission. But in that case he was asked to report himself as soon as
possible.

Rose read the cold, formal sentences again and again, and a lump rose to
her throat. How glad she was! How very, very glad! Indeed, her gladness,
her joy in Jervis's joy, surprised herself.

"And it's all owing to you," he exclaimed in a low voice, "that I didn't
go and make an ass of myself on Wednesday. If it hadn't been for you,
Rose, I should have enlisted. This would have come too late. It _is_
luck to have seen you now, like this. You're the very first I've told."
He was wringing her hand, his face now as flushed as it had been pale.

And as they stood there together, Rose suddenly became aware that Anna,
at the kitchen window, was looking out at them both with a rather
peculiar expression on her emotional German face.

A feeling of annoyance swept over the girl; she knew that to her old
nurse every young man who ever came to the Trellis House was a potential
lover. But even Anna might have left Jervis Blake out of the category.
There was nothing silly or--or sentimental, in the real, deep friendship
they two felt for one another.

And then Rose did something which surprised herself. Withdrawing her
hand from his, she exclaimed, "I'll walk with you to the corner"--and
led the way out, through the gate, and so along the empty roadway.

They walked along in silence for a few moments. The Close was still
deserted. Across the green, to their right, rose the noble grey mass of
the Cathedral. In many of the houses the blinds were even now only
beginning to be pulled up.

"I rather expected yesterday that you would come in and tell me that you
were going off to be one of the hundred thousand men Lord Kitchener has
asked for," she said at last.

"Of course I meant to be, but Mr. Robey thought I ought to communicate
with my father before actually joining," he answered. "In fact, I had
already written home. That's one reason why I'm going to get this wire
off so early."

"I suppose you'll be at Sandhurst this time next week?"

And he frowned, for the first time that morning.

"Oh no, I hope not! Mr. Robey heard last night from one of our
fellows--one