bledon to-morrow Tuesday before noon."

The Army had not forgotten him. Throughout the week his name upon
various forms had been under the eye of authority, and at last the order
had gone forth.

III

The next morning, after a disturbed night, Lois was taken ill. George
telephoned for the doctor, and as soon as he had seen the patient the
doctor telephoned for the nurse, and as soon as the doctor had
telephoned for the nurse George telephoned for Laurencine. What with
George's uniform and approaching departure, and the premature seizure of
Lois, the household had, in an exceedingly short time, reached a state
of intense excitement and inefficiency. Nurse was with Lois; the
children were with cook in the kitchen; the other two servants were
noisily and vaguely active on the stairs and the landings. The breakfast
had been very badly cooked; the newspapers, with a detailed description
of the retreat from Mons, were not glanced at. George was expecting a
letter from his mother concerning the arrangements for the visit of Lois
and the children to Ladderedge, already decided upon, and no letter had
come.

At half-past ten he sent the parlourmaid to get a taxi. Having inspected
his luggage in the hall, he went to the telephone again and ascertained
that Laurencine had actually started from home. Almost at the same
moment a taxi stopped in front of the house. "She's been jolly quick,"
thought George, meaning the parlourmaid; but going to the window he saw
that his stepfather and his mother were in the taxi. He did not rush out
to them. He did not move. The comfortable sense of the perfect
reliability and benevolence of his 'people' filled and warmed him. They
had not written again; they had just come themselves.

He affectionately and critically watched them as they got out of the
taxi. Alderman Edwin Clayhanger, undeniably stout, with grey hair and
beard, was passing from middle-age into the shadow of the sixties. He
dressed well, but the flat crown of his felt hat, and the artificial,
exaggerated squareness of the broad shoulders, gave him a provincial
appearance. His gesture as he paid the driver was absolutely
characteristic--a mixture of the dignified and the boyish, the
impressive and the timid. He had descended from the vehicle with
precautions, but Mrs. Clayhanger jumped down lightly, though she was
about as old and as grey as her husband. Her costume was not successful;
she did not understand and never had un