et her sister!'

'What is it?' gasped Hester. 'Is he killed?'

'No--"Wounded and missing!" Poor, poor child!'

'Where is she?'

'She's sitting there--dazed--with the telegram. She's hardly said
anything since it came.'

Hester ran on. There on a green edge of the bank sat Nelly staring at a
fluttering piece of paper.

Hester sank beside her, and put her arms round her.

'Dear Mrs. Sarratt!'

'What does it mean?' said Nelly turning her white face. 'Read it.'

'"Deeply regret to inform you your husband reported wounded and
missing!"'

'_Missing?_ That means--a prisoner. George is a prisoner--and wounded!
Can't I go to him?'

She looked piteously at Hester. Bridget had come up and was standing
near.

'If he's a prisoner, he's in a German hospital. Dear Mrs. Sarratt,
you'll soon hear of him!'

Nelly stood up. Her young beauty of an hour before seemed to have
dropped from her like the petals of a rose. She put her hand to her
forehead.

'But I shan't see him--again'--she said slowly--'till the end of the
war--_the end of the war_'--she repeated, pressing her hands on her
eyes. The note of utter desolation brought the tears to Hester's cheeks.
But before she could say anything, Nelly had turned sharply to her
sister.

'Bridget, I must go up to-night!'

'Must you?' said Bridget reluctantly. 'I don't see what you can do.'

'I can go to the War Office--and to that place where they make enquiries
for you. Of _course_, I must go to London!--and I must stay there. There
might be news of him any time.'

Bridget and Hester looked at each other. The same thought was in their
minds. But Nelly, restored to momentary calmness by her own suggestion,
went quickly to Farrell, who with his sister and Marsworth was standing
a little way off.

'I must go to London to-night, Sir William. Could you order something
for me?'

'I'll take you to Windermere, Mrs. Sarratt,' said Cicely before her
brother could reply. 'The motor's there now.'

'No, no, Cicely, I'll take Mrs. Sarratt,' said Farrell impatiently.
'I'll send back a car from Ambleside, for you and Marsworth.'

'You forget Sir George Whitehead,' said Cicely quietly. 'I'll do
everything.'

Sir George Whitehead of the A.M.S.C. was expected at Carton that
evening on a visit of inspection to the hospital. Farrell, as
Commandant, could not possibly be absent. He acknowledged the fact by a
gesture of annoyance. Cicely immediately took things in charge.

A whirl o