“That’ll not be for a good while yet. And anyway we’re doing our duty to our country.” But this news about Con distinctly sobered their exuberance, and Mrs MacLean, as she congratulated them on the attainment of their wishes, thought what a fine sensible pair they were, and what a change the prospect of service was making in them already. She was well over middle age, white-haired, and had the kindliest face and sweetest soft Scotch voice Noel knew, outside his own family. Gregor was her only child and her heart was wrapped up in him. “I’m glad you’re going to wear the kilt,” she said gently. “When will you be getting them, do you think?” “Oh, not for a while yet, I expect. First Battalion want everything they can get, you see. We’re only in the nursery yet.” “You’ll find it queer at first, but you’ll soon get used to the bare knees,” she smiled, to Noel. “It’s no worse than footer, you know. By Jove, Greg, my boy, we’ll Condy them a bit to subdue their natural shiny whiteness. Then they won’t startle people as we pass.” “All right. But we may as well wait till we get there,--unless you want to begin training them right away in the way they should go.” “And when do you start work?” “Medical exam to-morrow morning, and then as soon as the top-knutties can lick themselves into shape.” And so they chattered on, very full of themselves and their new importance, and Mrs MacLean rejoiced in them,--but hoped fervently, nevertheless, that the war would be over before they would have to do any actual fighting. XVII In the Post Office at Montreux, Ray and Lois, with startled looks, faced the fact that only a modest five pounds stood between them and poverty in a land which esteemed its visitors according to the size of their purses. The quietly portentous statement of the young man behind the glass screen at the Post Office, as to the unlikelihood of their telegram ever reaching its destination, was well calculated to take away their breath. It left them floundering like incapable swimmers washed suddenly out of their depth. Lois, having infinite faith in Ray, was the first to recover herself with a glimmer of amusement. “We’ll manage somehow,” she said. “It’s all part of the adventure.” Ray had had experience of shortage in foreign lands and knew how small was the sympathy it evoked. But it was assuredly not for him to emphasise the sorriness of their plight, which, he kept saying to himself, was all due to his own idiocy in losing his purse. “Seems to me a cup of tea is indicated,” he said. “Perhaps it will stimulate our jaded brains to see the way out,” and he led her to the little tea-shop near the Kursaal. They had it to themselves at the moment, and Mademoiselle in charge welcomed them with smiles as possible harbingers of a revival of business. “Iff you please,--tea?” she asked, proud of her accomplishment. “A good pot of tea and some of those cakes. How well you speak English!” said Ray.