pon Norah and her father. It was all they
could hope for, to begin with.

They said good-bye to him before they considered him well enough to go
back to the trenches. But the call for men was insistent, and the boy
himself was eager to go.

"Come back to us soon," Norah said, wistfully.

"Oh, I'm safe to come back," Wally said. "I'm nobody's dog, you
know."

"That's not fair!" she flashed. "Say you're sorry for saying it!"

He flushed.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you, Nor. I suppose I was a brute to say that."
Something of his old quaint fun came into his eyes for a moment.
"Anyhow it's something to be somebody's dog--especially if one happens
to belong to Billabong-in-Surrey!"

CHAPTER XV

PRISONERS AND CAPTIVES

The church was half in ruins. Great portions of the roof had been
torn away by shell-fire, and there were gaping holes in the walls
through which could be caught glimpses of sentries going backwards and
forwards. Sometimes a grey battalion swung by; sometimes a German
officer peered in curiously, with a sneer on his lips. The drone of
aircraft came from above, through the holes where the rafters showed
black against the sky. Ever the guns boomed savagely from beyond.

There were no longer any seats in the church. They had all been
broken up for camp-fires--even the oaken pulpit had gone. The great
empty space had been roughly cleared of fallen masonry, which had been
flung in heaps against the wall; on the stone floor filthy straw was
thinly spread. On the straw lay row upon row of wounded men--very
quiet for the most part; they had found that it did not pay to make
noise enough to annoy the guards who smoked and played cards in a
corner.

The long day--how long only the men on the straw knew--was drawing to
a close. The sun sank behind the western window, which the guns had
spared; and the stained glass turned to a glory of scarlet and gold
and blue. The shafts of colour lay across the broken altar, whence
everything had been stripped; they bathed the shattered walls in a
beauty that was like a cloak over the nakedness of their ruin. Slowly
they crept over the floor, as the sun sank lower, touching the straw
with rosy fingers, falling gently on broken bodies and pain-drawn
faces; and weary eyes looked gratefully up to the window where a
figure of Christ with a child in His arms stood glorious in the light,
and blessed them with the infinite pity of His smile.

A little Cockne