d those replies had been brief. Ethel's
name had scarcely been mentioned between them. Their talk had mainly
concerned itself with Captain Frazer, his life, his passing, the
void he had left behind him. Only one sentence had related to the
scene in the hospital; but its brief, tragic summing up of the
situation had been sufficient. Carew had made no answer, save to
walk on for a few steps in silence, with his hand resting on the
shoulder of his friend.

That night, he wrote to Alice. The letter was long and full of
detail. It told what he knew, what he had inferred and what he
feared. It begged her, in the name of their own sacred happiness, to
help him win the same happiness for these two who, longing to come
together, were straying always farther apart; and it ended with the
words with which he had begun his talk with Weldon, that noon,--

"For God's sake, how long is this going to last?"

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Paddy waved his thumb disrespectfully towards the rear of the
column.

"And what can you expect of a man that goes to the wars in a fancy
petticoat, let alone a khaki apron to cover up the front of it?" he
demanded. "And look at the bare knees of 'em, for all the world like
knots in the branches of an oak-tree! They may be trained to believe
it's comfortable to walk round in public with their kneepans in
plain sight; but no man can ever make me think it's either beautiful
to the eye, or respectful in the presence of one's betters."

"But their officers wear the same uniform, Paddy," Weldon objected.
"Who are their betters?"

"Myself, little Canuck, and yourself, too," Paddy answered calmly.
"The maple and the shamrock, severally and together, can knock the
spots out of all the thistles that's growing."

"Until it comes to a fight," Carew suggested, from Paddy's other
side. "The Highlanders have made their record, this time."

But Paddy shook his head. "Wait then till the end of the chapter,"
he predicted. "My turn hasn't come yet. Belike I'll be the hero of
them all. I was minding my pots and my kettles, while the Black
Watch was slinging lead up on the road into Kimberley. But, faith,
if I was one of them, with the choice before me between a glorious
death and the having to live in the sound of the bagpipes, I'd mount
a Red Cross and take a white flag in my hand and sally forth to be
seen and shot by the Boers."

"You don't like the bagpipes, Paddy?"

Paddy's reply was sententious.

"Did