When I got to Tilbury I was limper than Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s ’damp rag hung over the back of a chair.’ I don’t know what I should have done without the dear little stewardess to pack for me, and Captain Everard to help me and the Gidger through the customs, and all the other nightmare horrors of a landing in England in war time. I suppose I said I was ’British’ when the Aliens Officer asked me my nationality, but I felt like a disembowelled spirit. (No, I don’t mean disembodied!) Captain Everard could not come to London with me, but got me a corner seat in a carriage with only three men in it, nice chaps in the Pioneers, one of whom Captain Everard knew slightly. *CHAPTER II* At last after an interminable and arctic journey, during which I passed through every phase of land and sea sickness and might have died of cold but for a timely dose of brandy from the Pioneers, the train glided into the gloom of St Pancras station. Suddenly everything turned rose colour. Such a delicious surprise! Waiting under one of the shaded lamps was that wounded warrior—Ross. He looked so dear and big and beautiful in his kilt. I flung myself and the Gidger, regardless of life and limb, and the restraining hands of three Pioneers, out of the carriage and into his arms almost before the train had stopped. Did you ever know anything so delightful? He had coaxed the shipping company for information about the boat and got leave from the hospital to meet me. He enveloped us both in a huge hug with his one good arm. Oh, I was pleased to see him after five years, my dear adorable twin brother. I told him about the Pioneers, and he said,— ’Really, Meg, I think drinking spirits in a railway carriage with strange soldiers is about the limit of anything even you’ve ever done!’ But he thanked them very nicely. He has such charming manners when he chooses (he ought to have, I brought him up), he told them I was such a bad traveller, and that he was much obliged to them for looking after me. The Pioneers said it was a great relief to their minds that some one had met me; so if it was to theirs you can imagine what it was to mine. The Gidger loved ’Uncle Woss’ at once, and was deeply interested in his M.C. ribbon and bandaged arm, and the admiration seemed mutual, for Ross said,— ’Oh, what a Poppet, Meg.’ Whereupon the Gidger, ever athirst for information, asked,— ’What’s a Poppet, Uncle Woss?’ My brother replied that a Poppet was a little girl in a white fur coat, and immediately buttoned her up in one, while he called a soldier, who was standing near, to ’bring the other coat,’ and, as he helped me on with it, he said, ’You remember Brown, don’t you, Meg?’ ’Why, Sam! of course I do,’ and I shook hands. ’However do you always manage it?’ ’Oh, got a knee this time,’ said Ross, and stared at Brown, who looked extremely sheepish. ’Where’s your maid?’ he added. ’Haven’t brought her, couldn’t get a passage.’