some three or four inches from the floor by means of boarding,
and had only the suggestion of a spring. No privacy was possible, but
everything was clean and well-kept. In a few days Tom got to like it.
The weather was beautiful, the country was lovely, and the air was
pure. Tom had a good appetite in Lancashire, now he felt ravenous.
The work was hard, harder than he had had in Lancashire, but he enjoyed
it; on the whole, too, he could not help noticing that many of the men
seemed of a better type than those which made up his own battalion With
the exception of Penrose, nearly all his company were drafted from coal
pits and cotton mills. Here were numbers of university men,
public-school men, and the like. Truly the Army was a great democracy.

One thing made Tom feel very sad, and that was the loss of Penrose. He
had been in Surrey only a few days when he was gazetted and was removed
to another camp about four miles away. Still he made new friends and
was on the whole happy. He found, too, that even the men, whose
conduct was anything but praiseworthy in Lancashire, were sober here.
Only a dozen public-houses existed, within the radius of almost as many
miles; and as the rules of the canteen were very strict, there were few
temptations to drink. Discipline was far easier, and on the whole the
men were better looked after.

At the end of the second day in this Surrey camp, he was going with a
message to the officers' quarters, when he stopped suddenly.

"Ay, can that be you?" he said aloud.

"What do you mean, my man?" And then Tom saw that the person whom he
recognised wore a lieutenant's uniform.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said Tom, saluting, "but--but--yes, sir, it
is you."

"Oh, is that you, Pollard? I see you have enlisted, then; that's all
right. You'll know me another time, won't you?"

"Yes, Mr. Waterman. That is, yes, sir. I hope you are well, sir."

"Yes, I'm all right. Good night," and the officer passed on.

"By George!" said Tom to himself, "I didn't expect to meet Waterman
here, but there's nothing to wonder about, after all."

CHAPTER IV

It is not my purpose to give a lengthy account of Tom Pollard's stay in
the Surrey training camp, although much of interest took place, and his
daily life there would, if truly reported, gladden the hearts of
thousands of fathers and mothers who have given their boys to their
country at this time. I, who have been to this particular ca