hen door. Drops of rain ran down his gaiters. He was
trying to dry the knees of his breeches before the stove. Miss Willmot
greeted him warmly.

"Terrific night," he said; "rain coming down in buckets. Water running
round the camp in rivers. I say, Miss Davis, you'll have to get out
another cup. The Major's coming to tea."

"There isn't a fourth cup," said Miss Nelly. "You'll have to drink out
of a mug."

"Right-o! Mugs hold more, anyway."

"All padres are greedy," said Miss Nelly. "What's bringing the Major
here?"

"I've arranged a practice of the Christmas carols," said Digby.

"Bother your old carols," said Miss Nelly.

"Must have a practice," said Digby. "You and Miss Willmot are all right;
but the Major is frightfully shaky over the bass. It won't do to break
down to-morrow. By the way, Miss Willmot, there's something I want to
speak to you about before the Major comes. There's----"

"Before the Major comes, Nelly," said Miss Willmot, "give me some tea.
He always looks shocked when I drink four cups, so let me get through
the first two before he arrives."

"I wouldn't sit there if I were you," said Digby.

"There's a drip coming through the roof just there which will get you on
the back of the neck every time you lean forward."

Miss Willmot shifted the biscuit-tin. It was not easy to find a spot to
put it The roof of the kitchen leaked badly in several places.

"Look here, Miss Willmot," said Digby. "I wonder if you could do
anything about this. I've just been round to the guard-room. There's a
poor devil there----"

"Language! language!" said Miss Nelly.

She was on her knees beside the stove rescuing her plate of toast from
danger. Drops of water were falling on it from the knees of Digby's
breeches every time he moved.

"There is," said Digby, speaking with great precision, "an unfortunate
man at this moment incarcerated in the cell behind the guard-room, under
the stern keeping of the Provost Sergeant I hope that way of saying it
satisfies you, Miss Davis."

"For goodness' sake, don't talk Camp shop," said Miss Davis. "Let's have
our tea in peace."

"Drink, I suppose," said Miss Willmot "Why will they do it, just at
Christmas, too?"

"This isn't a drunk," said Digby. "The wretched devil has been sent down
here under arrest from No. 73 Hospital. He's to be court-martialled.
He's only a boy, and a decent-looking boy, too. I hate to think of his
being shut up in that cell all by himself at