“And pretty poor stuff it is, from all accounts,” said Noel. “You should hear a song the fellows have about the rotten time they’re taking to give us our uniforms. How does it go now? They roar it at top of their voice whenever the Colonel comes along,-- ‘There’s a matter here to which we call attention, Concerning which we feel a trifle warm,-- The days are getting cold, and we’re slowly growing old, And here we are without our uniform.’ “Chorus, Greg!” ‘Sunday we pray we soon may get ’em; Monday, our spirits rise a bit; Tuesday is the day they say they’re on the way, but not a bit of it! Wednesday, we grow a shade mistrustful, Thursday our hopes begin to fall; On Friday we’re despairing, On Saturday we’re swearing, We’ll never get the--er--ruddy things--at all.’” “Bravo!” cried the girls. “Encore!” But just at that point Mr Dare came in, with a tired nod to them all, and Noel’s high spirits seemed to lower at once by several degrees. “How is the Colonel to-night?” Mr Dare asked Vic. “He’s just about the same, Mr Dare. The stabbing pain has gone, they say. But he’s very limp. Even good news of the war hardly bucks him up. He seems to want just to lie quiet, and I’ve never in my life known him do that before. It shows how pulled down he is.” “It’s the crisis to-night, I think, and it’s going to be a wild night,”--as the wind shook the windows as though trying to force its way in. “A bad night for the trenches and a worse on the sea,” and he subsided into the evening paper. “Lois had another post-card from Ray this morning, father,” said Honor. “That’s good. He’s all right so far then. Doesn’t say where, I suppose?” “Gives no clue. Not allowed. Simply says he’s quite all right and awfully busy.” “Well, we must be thankful for that much. The losses all round are terrible to think of. If it goes on much longer at this rate----” but consideration for the boys cut his Cassandra ruminations short. “Has the City any views as to how long it’ll last, sir?” asked Gregor. “Any amount of views but no knowledge. Some are sure it’ll be all over by Christmas----” “Rotten! I jolly well hope not,” jerked Noel. “--And some say it will last two years or even three.” “There’ll be a lot of wastage if it goes on that long,” said Gregor. “And all the countries would be bankrupt, I should say.” “It’s too ghastly to think of. We’ll hope for better things,” and he took to his papers again. XXIV The big trees clashed and roared all night in the gale. In the morning a huge limb of one of the Oakdene elms lay on the lawn, and Vic, running across, anxious for news of the Colonel, brought back word that he had had a very restless night but was now sleeping quietly, and that Mrs Dare was sure he was no worse,--which in itself was great gain--and was not sure that he was not even a little better.