The door-curtain of sacking pushed aside, and the Padre came in. “Ha, Lollie. Glad to have you back again,” he said, shaking hands warmly. “Mess has been quite missing you. Sorry for your own sake you’re here, of course, but——” “You needn’t be, Padre,” said Lollie cheerfully. “I was just saying I’m glad to be back. And ’pon my word it’s true. It’s quite good to be home here again.” “Home!” said the Padre and the Acting-Adjutant together, and laughed. “I like that.” “Well, it is,” said Lollie stoutly. “Anyway, it feels like it to me.” That feeling apparently was driven home in the course of the next hour or two. His servant showed him to his dug-out, which he was to share with the second in command, had a portable bath and a dixie full of boiling water for him, his valise spread on a comfortable stretcher-bed of wire netting on a wooden frame, clean shirt and things laid out, everything down to soap and towel and a packet of his own pet brand of cigarettes ready to his hand. Lollie pounced on the cigarettes. “Like a fool I didn’t take enough to last me,” he said, lighting up and drawing a long and deep breath and exhaling slowly and luxuriously. “And I couldn’t get ’em over the other side for love or money.” While he stripped and got ready for his bath, his servant hovered round shaking out the things he took off and giving him snatches of gossip about the battalion. Lollie saw him eyeing the exceedingly dull buttons on his tunic and laughed. “Rather dirty, aren’t they?” he said. “I’m afraid I forgot ’em most of the time I was over there. And I hate cleaning buttons anyhow; always get more of the polish paste on the tunic than on the buttons.” After his bath and change, Lollie wandered round and had a talk to different officers, to his orderly-room sergeant, and the officers’ mess cook, inspected the kitchen arrangements with interest, and discussed current issue of rations and meals. “Glad you’re back, sir,” said the mess cook. “I did the best I could, but the messing never seems to run just right when you’re away. I never can properly remember the different things some of them don’t like.” The same compliment to his mess-catering abilities was paid him at dinner that night. “Ha, dinner,” said the Padre; “we can look for a return to our good living again now that you’re ho—back again, Lollie.” Lollie laughed. “Nearly caught you that time, Padre,” he said. “You almost said ‘home again,’ didn’t you?” And the Padre had to confess he nearly did. They had a very pleasant little dinner, and, even if the curry was mostly bully beef and the wine was the thin, sharp claret of local purchase, Lollie enjoyed every mouthful and every minute of the meal. Several of the other officers of the battalion dropped in after dinner on one excuse or another, but, as Lollie suspected, mainly to shake hands with him and hear any of the latest from the other side. “There’s a rum ration to-night,” said the Second, about ten. “What about a rum punch, Lollie?”