mfold 'all."

The Sister on her left started as if a serpent had stung her, and Vane
decided that he did not like her. Then he turned to the kindly old
woman, and smiled.

"Thank you, Lady Patterdale," he said, taking her outstretched hand.
"I'm sure it's going to be topping."

"You're just in nice time for luncheon," she continued, as she turned
to welcome the New Zealander. "And after that you'll be able to find
your way about the 'ouse."

Lunch was the only meal where all the convalescents met, as, generally,
some of them had retired before dinner. It was served in the old
banqueting hall, which, when Vane remembered it, had been used for
dancing. The officers had it to themselves, the nursing staff feeding
elsewhere. . . .

The contrast struck Vane forcibly as he sat down at the long table.
The last time he had been in the room he and three or four kindred
spirits had emptied a fruit salad into a large wind instrument just
before the band played the final gallop. . . .

"Beer, sir, or cider?" He half turned to answer, when suddenly the
voice continued, "Why, but surely, sir, it's Mr. Vane?"

He looked up and saw the same butler who had been at the Hall in the
old days.

"Why, Robert," he said delightedly, "you still here? Jove! but I'm
glad to see you. I thought Sir John had made a clean sweep of all the
staff."

The butler nodded his head sadly. "All except me, sir--me and Mrs.
Hickson. She was the housekeeper, if you remember. And she couldn't
stand it--that is, she had to leave after a year."

"Ah!" Vane's tone was non-committal. "And what's become of old
John--at the Lodge?"

"He went, sir. Sir John found him too slow." Robert poured out a
glass of beer. "He's in the village, sir. One of his sons was killed
at Noove Chappel."

"I'm sorry about that. I must go and see him."

"He'd be proud, sir, if you'd be so kind. I often goes down there
myself for a bit of a chat about the old days." With a sigh the old
butler passed on, and Vane returned to his lunch. . . .

"You seem to know our archaic friend," remarked the officer sitting
next him. "He's a dear old thing. . . ."

"He's one of a dying breed," said Vane shortly. "I would trust old
Robert with everything in the world that I possessed. . . ."

"That so?" returned the other. "Has he been here long?"

"To my certain knowledge for twenty-five years, and I believe longer.
It almost broke his heart when he heard that Lor