The dawn of what promised to be an eventful day broke grayly over Healthward Ho. By seven o'clock, however, the sun had forced its way through the mists and at eight precisely one of its rays, stealing in at an upper window, fell upon Sergeant-Major Flannery, lovely in sleep. He grunted, opened his eyes, and, realizing that another morning had arrived with all its manifold tasks and responsibilities, heaved himself out of bed and after a few soldierly setting-up exercises began his simple toilet. This completed, he made his way to the kitchen, where a fragrant smell of bacon and coffee announced that breakfast awaited him. His companions in the feast, Rosa, the maid, and Mrs. Evans, the cook, greeted him with the respectful warmth due to a man of his position and gifts. However unpopular Mr. Flannery might be with the resident patients of Healthward Ho--and Admiral Sir James Rigby-Rudd, for one, had on several occasions expressed a wistful desire to skin him--he was always sure of a hearty welcome below stairs. Rosa worshipped his moustache, and Mrs. Evans found his conversation entertaining. To-day, however, though the moustache was present in all its pristine glory, the conversation was lacking. Usually it was his custom, before so much as spearing an egg, to set things going brightly with some entertaining remark on the state of the weather or possibly the absorbing description of a dream which he had had in the night, but this morning he sat silent--or as nearly silent as he could ever be when eating. "A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Flannery," said Mrs. Evans, piqued. The Sergeant-Major started. It came to him that he had been remiss. "I was thinking, ma'am," he said, poising a forkful of bacon, "of what I may call the sadness of life." "Life is sad," agreed Mrs. Evans. "Ah!" said Rosa, the maid, who, being a mere slip of a girl and only permitted to join in these symposia as a favour, should not have spoken at all. "That verlent case upstairs," proceeded Mr. Flannery, swallowing the bacon and forking up another load. "Now, there's something that makes your heart bleed, if I may use the expression at the breakfast table. That young fellow, no doubt, started out in life with everything pointing to a happy and prosperous career. "Good home, good education, everything. And just because he's allowed himself to fall into bad 'abits, there he is under lock and key, so to speak." "Can he get out?" asked Rosa. It was a subject which she and the cook discussed in alarmed whispers far into the night. Mr. Flannery raised his eyebrows. "No, he cannot get out. And, if he did, you wouldn't have nothing to fear, not with me around." "I'm sure it's a comfort feeling that you are around, Mr. Flannery," said Mrs. Evans.