The many-treed town that lies between the swell of the hills and the foam and sparkle of the sea sluicing deliciously the roan length of Pevensey Bay unveils her rounded bosom in the dawn of the year to the kind clear gaze of heaven and of those who to-day pass and repass along its windy ways. Birds thrill and twitter in her streets. There earlier than elsewhere the arabis calls the bee, and the hedge-sparrow raises his thin sweet pipe to bid the hearts of men lift up: for winter is passed. Chestnut and laburnum unfold a myriad lovely bannerets on slopes peopled with gardens and gay with crocuses and the laughter of children. The elms in Saffrons Croft, the beeches in Paradise, stir in their sleep and wrap themselves about in dreamy raiment of mauve and emerald. The air is like white wine, the sky of diamonds; and the sea-winds come blowing over banks of tamarisk to purge and exhilarate. On the afternoon of such a day of such a spring in May, 1914, at Beachbourne station a little group waited outside the barrier that led to the departure platform. The group consisted of Joe Burt, Ernie, and Ruth. Ruth was peeping through the bars on to the platform, at the far end of which was a solitary figure, waiting clearly, he too, for the Lewes train, and very smart in a new blue coat with a velvet collar. "It's Alf," she whispered, keen and mischievous to Joe, "Ain't arf smart and all." Joe peered with her. "He's the proper little Fat," said the engineer. "I'll get Will Dyson draw a special cartoon of him for the _Leader_." Ruth preened an imaginary moustache in mockery of her brother-in-law. "I'm the Managing Director of Caspar's Touring Syndicate, I am, and don't you forget it!" she said with a smirk. "Where's he off to now?" "Brighton, I believe, with the Colonel. Some meeting of the League," replied Ernie dully. Just then Mr. Geddes joined them, and the four moved on to the platform. The train came in and Alf disappeared into it. A few minutes later the Colonel passed the barrier. He marked the little group on the platform and at once approached them. Something unusual about the men struck him at once. All three had about them the generally degagé air of those on holiday bent. The minister wore a cap instead of the habitual wide-awake; and carried a rucksack on his back. Joe swung a parcel by a string, and Ernie had an old kit-bag slung across his shoulder. Rucksack, parcel, and kit-bag were all distinguished by a red label. The Colonel stalked the party from the rear and with manifold contortions of a giraffe-like neck contrived to read on the labels printed in large black letters, ADULT SCHOOL PEACE PARTY. Then he speared the engineer under the fifth rib with the point of his stick. "Well, what y'up to now?" he asked sepulchrally.