"It's a queer thing," the sergeant observed caustically to the company sergeant-major one day, after he had fallen in a working-party for Lieutenant Donaldson's inspection, and had heard the officer comment favorably on the appearance of Privates Higgins and Grant, "what good soldiers all our scally-wags seem to 'ave become, now that there's a chance of gettin' a leave. They'll eat out o' me 'and now, but you see what'll 'appen as soon as they've 'ad their leave. More trouble they'll be 'n a bagful o' monkeys." The two were feeling the monotony of their return to the ordinary existence of the front very bitterly. "Takes all the spice out o' life, not bein' able to do things with Eustace," said Bill, quite forgetting that he had managed to infuse quite a considerable amount of spice into his life in the days before the coming of the djinn. "If our leave don't come through soon I shall go clean barmy, I b'lieve." At last the longed-for moment arrived. They were both officially informed that their reëngagement leave of twenty-eight days was duly sanctioned and that, barring accidents, they would depart in one week's time. "A week?" sighed Alf dolefully. "We may both be pushin' up the daisies in a week from now." "That's what I like about you, Higgins, you're so cheerful," said Corporal Greenstock, who overheard this remark. "Anyhow, if you want to start daisypushing this journey you'll have to hurry. We're being relieved to-night." He passed on. "A week is little enough, too," said Bill suddenly, "for all we got to do." "What d'you mean?" "We got to settle up about this 'ere marriage o' yours, to begin with. Why, we don't even know the bloomin' girl's name, yet." Alf grinned sheepishly. "I do," he said. He extracted from his pocket a bulky and dilapidated pocket-book, from the dusky recesses of which he produced a wad of paper. He unfolded this and smoothed out its many creases, when it disclosed itself as a page torn from the last number of _The Sketch_ which had reached the battalion. It was headed "A Paradise for Wounded Heroes." The first photograph showed Alf's wonderful visitor in nurse's uniform, and beneath it was written, "Miss Isobel FitzPeter, the famous society beauty. She has now left Town altogether and is devoting herself entirely to the Convalescent Home for Officers which she has established at her father's beautiful place, Dunwater Park, of which we give pictures below. Miss FitzPeter has taken entire charge of the administrative work of the Home. We congratulate the fortunate few whose lucky stars will lead them into the care of so fair a pair of hands." "Umph!" said Bill, when he had inwardly digested this. "So that's 'oo she is! Well, I must say I thought she might 'ave been Lady Something. Why, she ain't even a 'honorable.' You'd better change your mind, Alf, before you get too far. Sure you wouldn't like a princess? Eustace'll get one for you as easy as wink."