d out the
impression that he'd been out of the business so long that really they
weren't much in touch with his doings. Rather rotten, I thought it,
seeing that the poor beggar had done his bit in the war and done it
pretty thoroughly too. They said that really they hardly knew when he'd
be fit to get back to work again; not just yet awhile, anyway. And, yes,
he was at home over at Penny Green, so far as they knew,--in the kind of
tone that they didn't know much and cared less: at least, that was the
impression they gave me; only my fancy, I daresay, as the girl said when
she thought the soldier sat a bit too close to her in the tram.

"Well, I'd nothing to do till my train pulled out in the afternoon, so I
hopped it over to Penny Green Garden Home on the railway and walked down
to old Sabre's to scoop a free lunch off him. Found him a bit down the
road from his house trying out this game leg of his. By Jove, he was no
end bucked to see me. Came bounding along, dot and carry one, beaming
all over his old phiz, and wrung my honest hand as if he was Robinson
Crusoe discovering Man Friday on a desert island. I know I'm called
Popular Percy by thousands who can only admire me from afar, but I tell
you old Sabre fairly overwhelmed me. And talk! He simply jabbered. I
said, 'By Jove, Sabre, one would think you hadn't met any one for a
month the way you're unbelting the sacred rites of welcome.' He laughed
and said, 'Well, you see, I'm a bit tied to a post with this leg of
mine.'

"'How's the wife?' said I.

"'She's fine,' said he. 'You'll stay to lunch? I say, Hapgood, you will
stay to lunch, won't you?'

"I told him that's what I'd come for; and he seemed no end relieved,--so
relieved that I think I must have cocked my eye at him or something,
because he said in an apologetic sort of way, 'I mean, because my wife
will be delighted. It's a bit dull for her nowadays, only me and always
me, crawling about more or less helpless.'

"It struck me afterwards--oh, well, never mind that now. I said, 'I
suppose she's making no end of a fuss over you now, hero of the war, and
all that sort of thing?'

"'Oh, rather!' says old Sabre, and a minute or two later, as if he
hadn't said it heartily enough, 'Oh, rather. Rather, I should think
so.'"

II

"Well, we staggered along into the house, old Sabre talking away like a
soda-water bottle just uncorked, and he took me into a room on the
ground floor where they'd put up a bed for