“But you’ll do no good by killing yourself,” Mrs Dare had remonstrated, one morning when he looked in as usual in passing, and punctuated his paragraphs with muffled sneezes. “Oh--killing myself! It’s not got to that yet. (Att-i-cha!) I’m enjoying it, I assure you, Mrs Mother. We got twenty fine (Att-i-cha!)--boys at Greendale last night.” “Well, do keep your hat on when you must speak outside, I beg of you. The nights are getting cold and you’re not as young as you were, you know.” “It’s my one com--att-i-cha!--complaint. And it’s only the outer husk that feels it. I’m really wonderfully young inside, you know. I tell you, I was quite put out yesterday when a young fellow insisted on giving me his seat in the train.” “It was very nice of him.” “Hmph! Well, no doubt it was,--att-i-cha!--But, hang it all, I don’t look as decrepit as all that, do I? However, I got the better of him by giving it to an old lady--a really old lady--a minute or two later. By the way, Lois had a post-card from Ray this morning.” “What does he say? Where have they got to?” she asked eagerly. “Says nothing except that he’s well and very busy. No word as to where, of course.” “And no postmark?” “Nothing. They’re behind the war-screen now. We shall know nothing more,--unless through the despatches, maybe. Now we’ve got to live on--att-i-cha!--on faith and hope,” he said meaningly. “And keep our hats on when we speak outside,” she retaliated. “That’s all right,” he laughed. “I’ll begin taking you and Auntie Mitt with me, one on each side, to hold it down. I want to wave it all the time nowadays, at thought of having those infernal Huns on the run at last. More good news again to-day. Russia’s smashed Austria into little bits in Galicia. Whurr--att-i-cha!--oo!” “They were retiring somewhere yesterday.” “In East Prussia. Quick advance there was by way of diversion no doubt, and now they’ve done their work and are taking up safer positions.” “When any part of our side retires it’s always a strategic retreat,” smiled Mrs Dare. “But when the Germans retire it’s always a rout.” “Well--so ’tis,” he laughed, and shook hands and sneezed himself away. “You’d be very much the better of a couple of days in your bed,” was her last piece of advice as he went down the path. “When the war’s over. Did you ever manage to keep John in bed for a couple of days?” “Yes--once,--for about two weeks--when he had pneumonia.” “Well I’ll stop in bed when I get pneumonia,” and he waved his hand again and marched away. At teatime, when Miss Mitten and Mrs Dare, and their respective body-belt and jersey, were keeping one another company in friendly silence in the Oakdene parlour, Lois having gone into town to complete her outfit, the Colonel came in looking no more than a washed-out rag of his usual cheerful self.