d or trotted sedately; or occasionally
galloped, followed by elderly grooms torn between pride and anxiety.
Jim and Wally thought the famous Row an over-rated concern; failing to
realize, from its war aspect, the Row of other days, crammed from
fence to fence with beautiful horses and well-turned-out riders, and
with half the world looking on from the railings. Nowadays the small
boys and girls had it chiefly to themselves, and could stray from side
to side at their own sweet will. A few ladies were riding, and there
was a sprinkling of officers in khaki; obviously on Army horses and
out for exercise. Now and then came a wounded man, slowly, on a
reliable cob or sturdy pony--bandages visible, or one arm in a sling.
A few people sat about, or leaned on the fences, watching; but there
was nothing to attract a crowd. Every one looked business-like,
purposeful; clothes were plain and useful, with little frippery. The
old glitter and splendour of the Row was gone: the London that used to
watch it was a London that had forgotten how to play.

Beyond the Row, carriages, drawn by beautiful pairs of horses,
high-stepping, with harness flashing in the sunlight, drove up and
down. Some contained old ladies and grey-haired men; but nearly all
bore a load of wounded soldiers, with sometimes a tired-faced nurse.

"There's that nice old Lady Ellison--the one that used to take Jim and
me out when we were in hospital," Wally said, indicating a carriage
with a magnificent pair of bays. "She was an old dear. My word, I'd
like to have the driving of those horses--in a good light buggy on the
Billabong track!"

"So would I," Jim assented. "But I'd take those beastly bearing-reins
off before I started."

"Yes," said Norah eagerly. "Poor darlings, how they must hate them!
Jim, I wish we'd struck London when the coaches used to be seen."

"Rather!" said Jim. "Anstruther used to tell me about them. Coaches
bigger than Cobb & Co.'s, and smart as paint, with teams of four so
matched you could hardly tell which was which--and educated beyond
anything Australians could dream about. There was one man--poor chap,
Anstruther said he was drowned in the _Lusitania_--who had a team of
four black cobs. I think Anstruther used to dream about them at
night; he got poetical and incoherent when he tried to describe 'em."

"Fancy seeing a dozen or so of those coaches swinging down Piccadilly
on a fine morning!" said Wally. "That would be s