t was as real a fact as the German guns. He
went about pitying himself and seeking pity.

The months passed. The regiment moved away from Durdlebury, and Doggie
was left alone in Denby Hall.

He felt solitary and restless. News came from Oliver that he had been
offered and had accepted an infantry commission, and that Chipmunk,
having none of the special qualities of a "'oss soldier," had, by
certain skilful wire-pullings, been transferred to his regiment, and
had once more become his devoted servant. "A month of this sort of
thing," he wrote, "would make our dear old Doggie sit up." Doggie
sighed. If only he had been blessed with Oliver's constitution!

One morning Briggins, his chauffeur, announced that he could stick it
no longer and was going to join up. Then Doggie remembered a talk he
had had with one of the young officers who had expressed astonishment
at his not being able to drive a car. "I shouldn't have the nerve," he
had replied. "My nerves are all wrong--and I shouldn't have the
strength to change tyres and things."... If his chauffeur went, he
would find it very difficult to get another. Who would drive the
Rolls-Royce?

"Why not learn to drive yourself, sir?" said Briggins. "Not the
Rolls-Royce. I would put it up or get rid of it, if I were you. If you
engage a second-rate man, as you'll have to, who isn't used to this
make of car, he'll do it in for you pretty quick. Get a smaller one in
its place and drive it yourself. I'll undertake to teach you enough
before I go."

So Doggie, following Briggins' advice, took lessons and, to his
amazement, found that he did not die of nervous collapse when a dog
crossed the road in front of the car and that the fitting of
detachable wheels did not require the strength of a Hercules. The
first time he took Peggy out in the two-seater he swelled with pride.

"I'm so glad to see you can do something!" she said.

Although she was kind and as mildly affectionate as ever, he had
noticed of late a curious reserve in her manner. Conversation did not
flow easily. There seemed to be something at the back of her mind. She
had fits of abstraction from which, when rallied, she roused herself
with an effort.

"It's the war," she would declare. "It's affecting everybody that
way."

Gradually Doggie began to realize that she spoke truly. Most people of
his acquaintance, when he was by, seemed to be thus afflicted. The
lack of interest they manifested in his delicacy of co