Dick still approved of the cakes, I was glad to hear; and since the young lady had asked if there was anything else she could send, he wasn’t one to cadge for himself, but there was his mate Mick; he wanted to put in a word for him. Mick, it appeared, was even more lonely, more ignored by the world of women, more in need of sympathetic understanding than he was; and—what was more to the point—was badly in want of a large scarf. Not that Mick would have asked for it himself, very independent Mick was; but since he had so enjoyed half of every cake, and the nights were very cold this time of the year, and he had been his pal for years, why, he felt sure the young lady wouldn’t mind his just mentioning it, as he couldn’t think of telling her how short he was of socks himself. _Mind!_ Why, we all regarded Dick as a public benefactor! Abigail discovered that Dick and Mick rhymed, and as she said, you didn’t have poetry like that brought to the door _every_ day! She suddenly developed the airs of a society belle; she borrowed my copy of “The Modern Knitting Book;” and, might she just run out for an hour in the afternoon to get some wool—you needed thicker wool for scarves than for socks—as the shops were so dark at night? Cook, with her numerous cousins on H.M.S. “Crystal Palace” (a near neighbour of ours), was given to understand that she could now take a second place! There was no getting away from the fact that Mr. Dick and Mr. Mick were actually engaged in the defence of the realm, while cook’s cousins appeared to do nothing more than take joy-rides in motor-lorries to and fro along our road. Pamela alone was sceptical; she said she should go cautiously, you never knew! But then, she had every reason to be a pessimist; even her “lonely soldier” had been sent out to China, and, naturally, you can’t sympathise so understandingly with anyone when it takes a couple of months before you get an answer to your letter (if even he should chance to write by return), as when he is only across the Straits of Dover. She said she got tired of keeping copies of her letters, so that she might know what he was talking about when he wrote back—only he never did! Surmising that Abigail would have her hand over-full if she took on the wants of both men, I said to her, “I think _I_ had better adopt Mr. Mick, as I am sure you will have enough to do to provide et-ceteras for Mr. Dick! You can take all the credit for it, and write the letters, but I will settle the bills.” And having some socks and a large muffler all ready for dispatch to some needy man, I gave them to her and said I would pay the postage, if she would save me the trouble of doing them up and taking them to the post office. I also added that a cake had better be sent once a week to Mr. Mick in addition to the one sent to Mr. Dick. I know something of the appetite of the Navy—and what is one simple cake between two hearty men!