Chipmunk," she remarked, her eyes on the
road.

"Oliver? On leave again? How has he managed it?"

"You'd better ask him," she replied tartly. "All I know is that he
turned up yesterday, and he's staying with us. That's why I don't want
you to ram the fact of your being a Tommy down everybody's throat."

He laughed at the queer little social problem that seemed to be
worrying her. "I think you'll find blood is thicker than military
etiquette. After all, Oliver's my first cousin. If he can't get on
with me, he can get out." To change the conversation, he added after a
pause: "The little car's running splendidly."

They swept through the familiar old-world streets, which, now that the
early frenzy of mobilizing Territorials and training of new armies was
over, had resumed more or less their pre-war appearance. The sleepy
meadows by the river, once ground into black slush by guns and
ammunition waggons and horses, were now green again and idle, and the
troops once billeted on the citizens had marched heaven knows
whither--many to heaven itself--or whatever Paradise is reserved for
the great-hearted English fighting man who has given his life for
England. Only here and there a stray soldier on leave, or one of the
convalescents from the cottage hospital, struck an incongruous note of
war. They drew up at the door of the Deanery under the shadow of the
great cathedral.

"Thank God that is out of reach of the Boche," said Doggie, regarding
it with a new sense of its beauty and spiritual significance. "To
think of it like Rheims or Arras--I've seen Arras--seen a shell burst
among the still standing ruins. Oh, Peggy"--he gripped her arm--"you
dear people haven't the remotest conception of what it all is--what
France has suffered. Imagine this mass of wonder all one horrible
stone pie, without a trace of what it once had been."

"I suppose we're jolly lucky," she replied.

The door was opened by the old butler, who had been on the alert for
the arrival.

"You run in," said Peggy, "I'll take the car round to the yard."

So Doggie, with a smile and a word of greeting, entered the Deanery.
His uncle appeared in the hall, florid, white-haired, benevolent, and
extended both hands to the home-come warrior.

"My dear boy, how glad I am to see you. Welcome back. And how's the
wound? We've thought night and day of you. If I could have spared the
time, I should have run up north, but I've not a minute to call my
own. We're doi