d pleasure, laughed aloud. Only Miss Willmot
looked on with grave eyes, somewhat sad. She was thinking of Tommy
Collins in his cell, with the weight of an intolerable accusation
hanging over him.

Later on, not even Miss Willmot had time to be thoughtful. There was
a pause in the festivities for an hour or two after dinner. The men
smoked, slept, or kicked at a football with spasmodic fits of energy.
Then the canteen was opened. Miss Willmot's great cake was cut The men
passed in a long file in front of the counter. Miss Willmot handed each
man a slice of cake. Other ladies gave crackers and mince pies. Digby,
garrulous and friendly, distributed cigarettes. The Major stood at the
far end of the room under the glistening white star. He was waiting for
the moment to arrive at which he should make his speech, a speech sure
to be received with genuine applause, for it was to be in praise of Miss
Willmot The Major did that kind of thing well. He had the proper touch,
could catch the note appropriate for votes of thanks. He knew his
talent, and that Christmas Day he meant to do his best.

An orderly entered the canteen, looked round it, caught sight of the
Major. He pushed his way through a crowd of laughing men who munched
cake, smoked furiously, and decked each others' heads with paper caps
from crackers. He reached the Major at last, and handed him a note.
The Major read it and swore. Then he began to push his way towards the
counter. The orderly followed him.

"Gangway," he called, "gangway, men. Make way for the Major."

Way was made at last The Major seized Digby by the arm.

"It's a damned nuisance," he said. "I beg pardon, padre, an infernal
nuisance. I've got to go to the orderly room. Those fellows in No. 3
Hospital are ringing me up. Why couldn't they keep quiet on Christmas
Day? I must go though, and I may be kept. You'll have to make the speech
and thank Miss Willmot."

Digby escaped making the speech in the end. Just as the distribution of
cakes and mince pies had finished, when Digby was searching frantically
for an opening sentence, the Major returned. He made two speeches. One
was in a low voice across the counter to Miss Willmot. The other was to
the men. It was all about Miss Willmot. It was beautifully phrased.
But she did not hear a word of it She was scarcely aware of the men's
cheers, though the paper festoons swayed to and fro, and the Chinese
lanterns shook with the violence of the shouting. For