y'll take me across the channel as soon as I'm able
to leave here, and then, when I can travel comfortably I suppose I'll
be invalided home."

"Well, old man, when you get there, you say to my mother and my aunt
Milly, and my dear old grandfather Butler, that when you saw me last
I was well, and contented, and glad to be doing my bit."

"I will, Pen."

"And, Aleck?"

"Yes, comrade."

"If you should chance to go by the school-house, and see the old flag
waving there, give it one loving glance for me, will you?"

"With all my heart!"

"So, then, good-by!"

"Good-by!"

It was in the spacious grounds of an old French chateau not far from
Beauvais on the river Andelle that Pen's battalion camped for their
period of rest and recuperation. There were long, sunshiny days,
nights of undisturbed and refreshing sleep, recreation and
entertainment sufficient to divert tired brains, and a freedom from
undue restraint that was most welcome. Moreover there were letters and
parcels from home, with plenty of time to read them and to re-read
them, to dwell upon them and to enjoy them. If the loved ones back in
the quiet cities and villages and countryside could only realize how
much letters and parcels from home mean to the tired bodies and
strained nerves of the war-worn boys at the front, there would never
be a lack of these comforts and enjoyments that go farther than
anything else to brighten the lives and hearten the spirits of the
soldier-heroes in the trenches and the camps.

Pen had his full share of these pleasures. His mother, his Aunt
Millicent, Colonel Butler, and even Grandpa Walker from Cobb's
Corners, kept him supplied with news, admonition, encouragement and
affection. And these little waves of love and commendation, rolling up
to him at irregular intervals, were like sweet and fragrant draughts
of life-giving air to one who for months had breathed only the smoke
of battle and the foulness of the trenches.

At the end of August, orders came for the battalion to return to the
front. There were two days of bustling preparation, and then the
troops entrained and were carried back to where the noise of the
seventy-fives on the one side and the seventy-sevens on the other,
came rumbling and thundering again to their ears, and the pall of
smoke along the horizon marked the location of the firing line.

But their destination this time was farther to the south, on the
British right wing, where French and English