“You’ll see we’ll find the ground we’re looking for soon,” he said stoutly. “Then we’ll right about face and maybe give them the lesson they’re spoiling for. They are suffering terribly, as it is, but there seems no end to them. But, anyhow, Con will be all right in Germany by this time, and truly I don’t think we need worry about him unduly.” “I’ll try not to, but it is not easy,--hearing the things one does.” “If duty were easy it would lose half its virtue,”--and then the door flew open and Noel and Gregor MacLean stood in the opening, with their hands to their foreheads in most punctilious salute and broad grins of delight on their heated faces. “London Scottish!” they said in unison. “You’re in?” cried the girls, jumping up. “For King and Country! At your service,” and they broke off and demanded tea,--much tea and all the cakes that were going. The girls flew round ministeringly and buzzed about them full of questions and congratulations. “And how soon do you get to work?” asked the Colonel. “Medical inspection 9 a.m. to-morrow morning. But we’re as fit as fiddles, so that’s all right.” “And when will you get your kilts?” asked Honor. “A-a-a-a-a-ah!” said Noel. “Now you’re asking.” “Echo answers ‘When?’” said Gregor. “From all accounts it may be months.” “O-o-o-oh!” remonstratively from the girls. “But we want to see how you’ll look in them,” said Honor. “You go right up to Head-Quarters, my child, and put it to them straight, and I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if we got them by mid-day Monday,” said Noel. “‘The kilt is but the guinea stamp, the man’s the gowd for a’ that,’” said Gregor with a grin, and a reddening under his tan at so unusual an outburst and an approving glance from Honor. “Well, it’s been worth waiting for,” said the Colonel. “I should say so. We’d sooner be full privates in the London Scottish than potty little lieutenants in anything else, wouldn’t we, Greg, my boy?” “Rather!” “Do you know Con is missing?” said Honor. “No?” unbelievingly from both of the boys. “Missing?”--and they stood staring from one to another with such startled looks that the Colonel thought well to interject a bluff, “He’s probably tucked safely away in some remote corner of Germany by this time. But we shall hear in due course,”--and he accompanied it with so straight and meaning a look at the boys that they understood, and fell in with his intention. “Poor old Con! How mad he’ll be to be out of it,” said Noel hastily. “Say, Greg, my boy, we’ve got to get out there as quick as ever we can. What a joke if we came across him--er--languishing in captivity and were the means of setting him free.” “Are the lists out then, sir?” asked Gregor. “Not yet, my boy. I was up at Head-Quarters and they’re compiling them as fast as they can. Pretty heavy, I’m afraid.” “Sure to be, sir. There’s been some mighty tough work out there.” “The German lists will be ten times as heavy. That’s one consolation,” said Noel.