“It would be too awful if--if the worst had come to him,” she said, with a glistening in the eyes. “It would be very sad for us all. But for him--my dear, a man can do no better than die at his post. If it should be so, be sure he died doing his duty. But we’re not to think of him as gone. Con’s one of the finest boys I know, and, please God, he’s alive and well and will come back to us.” Mrs Dare and Honor had just suspended work and were sitting down to tea when they were shown in, and Mrs Dare rang for additional supplies as soon as she had greeted them. “Well, Colonel? Any new news?” she asked cheerfully. “Yes,--I came on purpose to tell you. I have just been to see Alma.” They both sat up at attention and eyed him anxiously, and he hurried on, “It is disquieting, but not necessarily more than that. Con’s name is in the list of ‘missing.’ That means he has been captured and so may be out of further danger till the end of the war.” “Thank God, it is no worse!” said Mrs Dare, with a sigh of relief. And then, as her mind travelled quickly the possibilities, with a downward tendency natural under the circumstances, “Can we be sure it is no worse?” “If he were known to be dead or wounded, it would be so reported. ‘Missing’ leaves us every ground for hope, Mrs Mother. And it is our bounden duty to hope for the best. And we will. A great many of our R.A.M.C.’s were captured at the same time. The retirement was very hurried, you see. They would be busy with their wounded. Probably they would not leave them. The Germans swept on, and there they were--behind the lines--prisoners.” “They have been behaving very brutally,” said Mrs Dare depressedly. “In cases--where they will probably claim to be justified, and even they are probably much exaggerated. Is it any good treading the stony ways before we actually come to them? There may be more than enough for us before we’re through.” “You are right, my friend. I’m afraid I’m sadly lacking in faith. One gets somewhat disjangled with thinking overmuch about things.” “Mustn’t think down,” said the Colonel, shaking his finger reprovingly at her. “Think up! Half the ill things we fear never come to pass. Isn’t that your experience now?” “It is. But the times are out of joint, and----” “And it’s our business to put them in again, and we’re going to do it.” “We’re still falling back, I suppose,” she said, uncheerfully, and he knew she was wondering if there would be any hope of news of Con if a change should come in that respect. “Still retiring on Paris, and doing it uncommonly well too,” he said, very much more cheerfully than he actually felt. For the black Sunday of Mons still lay heavy on him, and he knew better than any of them the certain cost of those terrible rear-guard actions--from Cambrai-le Cateau to the Somme--Oise--Meuse, to Seine--Oise--Meuse, to Seine--Marne--Meuse, and he dreaded the thought of the tardy lists which would be hard to compile and harder still to read.