"It shows Billy is of some importance," he decided proudly. "They wouldn't trouble to recall him if he were otherwise. Hang it all! if he doesn't turn up within the next half-hour he'll miss the 4.45 from Tarleigh, and that will put him in the cart as far as the Scotch express is concerned. I'll go and meet him and hurry him along." Peter Barcroft was not usually given to changing his mind in this erratic fashion, but perhaps present circumstances were sufficient excuse. He had not seen his son for some twelve months previous to Billy's belated arrival at Ladybird Fold fourteen hours ago. Of that fourteen hours six had been employed by making up arrears of sleep, and another five by Peter's own act of sending his son into Barborough. Of the remaining time father and son had spent hardly an hour alone--and there were such a lot of things that Peter wanted to tell his boy. Then, as a coping-stone to the series of disappointments, Billy had not seen his mother, as Mrs. Barcroft was not expected home until the evening. While Peter was walking along the high road, Billy on his homeward journey took the path across the fields, and on the former's return was sitting comfortably in front of the fire. "Hullo! how did I miss you?" was Peter's greeting. He was considerably puzzled as to how Billy had contrived to reach home with the donkey without passing him on the road. "I've a telegram for you." "About Fuller?" asked the flight-sub eagerly. "No," replied Mr. Barcroft. "Why should he want to wire? It's your recall, my boy; and it's too late for the train that catches the Scotch express. She's leaving Tarleigh station now." "Something in the wind, I'll swear," declared Billy, searching in vain for a time-table. "Fuller's missing. You've heard me mention him several times. Went after one of the returning Zeppelins and hasn't been seen since. Only the other day----" "What are you disarranging my desk for?" interrupted his father. "A time-table? Here you are. Next train from Tarleigh is at 7.5. That will catch a connection at Barborough and land you at Edinburgh about 4 A.M. How much further to Rosyth?" "About an hour," replied Billy. "Might do it in time." "No use worrying about it: that won't help matters," said his father philosophically. "You'll be able to see your mother. She arrives by the same train you leave by. It will only be for a couple of minutes. Better luck next time." Tea over, Billy began his preparations for the journey north. With the assistance of Mrs. Carter his greatcoat was made sufficiently presentable until he could borrow a uniform from an obliging shipmate. At the station the flight-sub's meeting with his mother was, as Peter had predicted, only of a brief duration, delayed until the guard's in patient exhortation of "Take your seat, sir, if you're going," brought it to a close. "Good-bye, my boy!" said Barcroft Senior as his son lowered the window of the now closed door.