attery.'

'If you get any news--ever--before we do,' said Pamela, suddenly
choking, 'you'll tell us at once?'

'Trust me. He's never out of my mind.'

On that her good-night was less cold than it would have been five
minutes before. But he walked home through the moonlit streets both
puzzled and distressed--till he reached his club in Pall Mall, where
the news coming through on the tape quickly drove everything out of
his soldier's mind but the war.

* * * * *

Mrs. Gaddesden was sitting as usual in the hall at Mannering. A mild
February was nearly out. It would be the first of March on the
morrow.

Every moment she expected to hear the Fallerton taxi draw up at the
front door--bringing Elizabeth Bremerton back to Mannering. She had
been away more than a month. Mrs. Gaddesden went back in thought to
the morning when it had been announced to the Squire by his pale and
anxious secretary that she had had bad news of her invalid mother,
and must go home at once. The Squire--his daughter could not deny
it--had behaved abominably. But of all of his fume and fret, his
unreasonable complaints and selfish attempts to make her fix the
very day and hour of her return, Elizabeth had taken no notice. Go
she would, at once; and she would make no promises as to the exact
date of her return. But on the morning before she went she had
worked superhumanly to put things in order, whether for her typist,
or Captain Dell, or Pamela, who must at least take over the
housekeeping. The relations between her and Miss Bremerton that
morning had struck Mrs. Gaddesden as odd--certainly not cordial. But
there was nothing to complain of in Pamela's conduct. She would do
her best, she said, and sat listening while Elizabeth gave her
instructions about food cards, and servants, and the rest.

Then, when the taxi had driven away with the Dictator, what temper
on the Squire's part! Mrs. Gaddesden had very nearly gone home to
London--but for the fact of raids, and the fact that two of her most
necessary servants had joined the W.A.A.C.'s. Pamela, on the other
hand, had gone singing about the house. And really the child had
done her best. But how could any one expect her to manage her father
and the house, especially on the scraps of time left her by her
V.A.D. work? The Squire had been like a fractious child over the
compulsory rations. Nobody was less of a glutton--he pecked like a
bird; but the proper food to pec