Then followed a short spell in the reserve trenches, which were full of water and still subject to shell-fire, but just a degree less racking than the actual fighting-line in as much as the enemy could not get at them without ample warning. Still, they were ‘standing-by’ all the time, ready to supplement the front at any moment, so there was little rest and constant strain. They dozed at times, sitting in the mud and more than half frozen with the bitter cold. Their sopping clothing stuck clammily to their chilled skins. They dreamed of beds and hot baths, and now and again they fed on bully beef and bread and jam, washed down with hot tea laced with rum, and blessed the commissariat which did its level best for them under very trying circumstances. Then at last,--since human nature can stand only a certain considerable amount of affliction without being the worse for it, and they had done their utmost duty and had about reached the limit--they were ordered to the rear for a proper rest, and right gladly they took the muddy road and left the sound of the guns behind them. There followed a few days of recuperative rest, interrupted only, but more than once, by orders to ‘stand-by’ to reinforce the front, which was enduring much tribulation from overwhelming odds. The front held firm, however, and their tension relaxed again. They cleaned themselves up and did some parades and route marches to keep their muscles from cramping, and then, one heavenly day, Ray, hearing that the officers of other battalions were getting short leave for home, put in for the same, and got it, and twelve hours later walked up the drive at Oakdene and Lois rushed out and flung herself into his arms. XXXII What a home-coming that was! They counted him almost as one returned from the dead, and Mrs Dare and Lois could hardly let him out of their sight for a moment. He was gift of the gods and prized accordingly. And they talked and talked, though of course it was Ray who did most of the talking, and held them spell-bound and shivering with the mere telling of the things he had seen. Auntie Mitt suspended her work to gaze at him with eyes like little saucers, and finally expressed the opinion that it sounded worse even than the Crimea. “And you saw nothing of the boys?” asked Honor disappointedly. “They hadn’t arrived when I left. General opinion is that they’ve got mislaid en route, but they’ll probably have turned up by the time I get back. We’re needing them badly to make up our strength. Losses were very heavy at Messines, and there’s a certain wastage going on all the time, of course.” “Wastage indeed!” sighed Mrs Dare, thinking of her own. “You speak as if they were no more than goods and chattels, Ray. Every wasted one means a sore sore heart at home.”