feel, but I
feel as if I had been to church."

"Now, sir," said the A. D. C. S. to Barry, in his military tone, "I am
organising a company of musicians who will go through our camps and help
the boys as you have helped us to-day. I would like you to be one of
them. What do you say?"

"Oh, sir," exclaimed Barry hastily, laying the violin upon the piano and
standing back from it, "don't make that an order, sir. I want to stay
with my men."

His face was quivering with deep emotion. The A. D. C. S. looked into
the quivering face.

"All right, Dunbar," he said, with a little laugh, and putting his hand
on Barry's shoulder. "I guess you are all right."

"Some boy! What?" said the American doctor. "Here I think you had better
take your fiddle along," handing Barry the violin. "It doesn't belong to
any one in this bunch."

The burst of laughter that followed, all out of proportion to the humour
of the remark, revealed the tensity of the strain through which they had
passed.

Through the little town of Etaples they drove together in almost
complete silence, until they had emerged into the country, lying spread
out about them in all the tender beauty of the soft spring evening. As
the car moved through the sweet silence of the open fields, the V. A. D.
said softly:

"Oh, Captain Dunbar, I--"

"My name is Barry," he said gently.

A quick flush came into the beautiful face and a soft light to the brown
eyes, as she answered:

"And mine is Phyllis." Then she hurried to add, "I was going to say
that you helped me this afternoon as nothing has since my dear brothers
went."

"Thank you, Phyllis. What you have been to me through all these days, I
wish I could tell, but I can't find words."

Then they rode together in silence that was more eloquent than any words
of theirs could be. At length Barry burst forth enthusiastically:

"Those Americans! What a beautiful and gracious act of kindness that was
to me."

"Oh," replied Phyllis, with answering enthusiasm, "aren't they fine!
That was perfectly ripping of them."

CHAPTER XIII

INTENSIVE TRAINING

Barry's return to the battalion was like a coming home. In the mess
there was no demonstration of sympathy with him in his loss, but the
officers took occasion to drop in casually with an interesting bit of
news, seeking to express, more or less awkwardly, by their presence what
they found it impossible to express in actual words.

It was to Barry an experienc