of his whiteness, and hair which had no grease on
it, but stood up all bright; she had never spoken to him--a far worship,
like that for a star. And always, always Daddy had been gentle;
sometimes angry, but always gentle; and they sometimes not at all! And
mixed up with it all, the dogs they had had, and the cats they had had,
and the cockatoo, and the governesses, and their red cloaks, and the
curates, and the pantomimes, and "Peter Pan," and "Alice in
Wonderland"--Daddy sitting between them, so that one could snuggle up.
And later, the school-days, the hockey, the prizes, the holidays, the
rush into his arms; and the great and wonderful yearly exodus to far
places, fishing and bathing; walks and drives; rides and climbs, always
with him. And concerts and Shakespeare plays in the Christmas and Easter
holidays; and the walk home through the streets--all lighted in those
days--one on each side of him. And this was the end! They waited on him
at breakfast: they kept stealing glances at him, photographing him in
their minds. Gratian got her camera and did actually photograph him in
the morning sunlight with Noel, without Noel, with the baby; against all
regulations for the defence of the realm. It was Noel who suggested:
"Daddy, let's take lunch out and go for all day on the cliffs, us three,
and forget there's a war."

So easy to say, so difficult to do, with the boom of the guns travelling
to their ears along the grass, mingled with the buzz of insects. Yet
that hum of summer, the innumerable voices of tiny lives, gossamer things
all as alive as they, and as important to their frail selves; and the
white clouds, few and so slow-moving, and the remote strange purity which
clings to the chalky downs, all this white and green and blue of land and
sea had its peace, which crept into the spirits of those three alone with
Nature, this once more, the last time for--who could say how long? They
talked, by tacit agreement, of nothing but what had happened before the
war began, while the flock of the blown dandelions drifted past. Pierson
sat cross-legged on the grass, without his cap, suffering a little still
from the stiffness of his unwonted garments. And the girls lay one on
each side of him, half critical, and half admiring. Noel could not bear
his collar.

"If you had a soft collar you'd be lovely, Daddy. Perhaps out there
they'll let you take it off. It must be fearfully hot in Egypt. Oh! I
wish I were goi