die, Mrs. Perch. He won't be here."

"She'll catch him," declared Mrs. Perch doggedly. "Any girl could catch
Freddie. He's a positive fool with one of these girls after him. Now
she's got to have his uncle Henry's armchair in her room, if you please.
That's a nice thing, isn't it?"

"Now look here, Mother, you know perfectly well that was your own idea.
You said you felt sure she had a weak back and that--"

"I never supposed she was going to have your uncle Henry's chair for her
weak back or for any other back. Ask Mr. Sabre what he thinks. There he
is. Ask him."

Sabre said, "But you do like the girl, don't you, Mrs. Perch?"

Mrs. Perch pursed her lips.

"I don't say I don't like her. I merely ask what I'm going to do with
her in the house. When Freddie said he wanted to bring some one in to be
with me, I never supposed he was going to bring a chit of a child into
the house. I assure you I never supposed that was going to be done to
me."

And then quite suddenly Mrs. Perch dropped into a chair and said in a
horribly weak voice, "I don't mind who comes into the house, now. I
can't contend like I used to contend." Immense tears gathered in her
eyes and began to run swiftly down her cheeks. "I'm not fit for anything
now. I can't live without Freddie. I like the girl; but all this house
where we've been so happy ... without Freddie ... I shall see his dear,
bright face everywhere. Why must he go, Mr. Sabre? Why must he go? I
don't understand this war at all." Her voice trailed off. Her hands
fumbled on her lap. A tear fell on them. She brushed at it with a
fumbling motion but it remained there.

Young Perch took her hand and fondled it. Sabre saw the wrinkled,
fumbling old hand between the strong brown fingers. "That's all right,
Mother. Of course, you don't understand it. That's just it. You think
I'm going out to fighting and all that. And I'm just going into a
training camp here in England for a bit. And before Christmas it will
all be over and I shall come flying back and we'll send Miss Bright
toddling off home and--Don't cry, Mother. Don't cry, Mother. Isn't that
so, Sabre? Just training in England. Isn't that so? Now wherever's your
old handkerchief got to? Look here; here's mine. Look, this is the one
I chose that day with you in Tidborough. Do you remember what a jolly
tea we had that day? Remember what a laugh we had over that funny
teapot. There, let me wipe them, Mother...."

Sabre turned away. This