"The whole world must come in," replied the other, his cheeks rosying faintly with an enthusiasm which made him tremble. "And we must all push together." He made a motion with his hand--"English and Germans, Russians and Austrians, and roll it back, back, back! and topple it over into the abyss. And then the Dawn will break on the risen Lord." Ernie went out into the passage. His mother in the kitchen was waiting for him. She looked almost forlorn, he noticed. "Give me a kiss, Ern," she pleaded in sullen voice that quavered a little. "Don't let's part un-friends just now--you and me--After all, you're my first." Ernie's eyes filled. He took her in his arms, this withered old woman, patted her on the back, kissed her white hair, her tired eyelids. "There!" he said. "I should knaw you arter all these years, Mum. Always making yourself twice the terror you are--and not meaning it." CHAPTER XXXIII BEAU-NEZ He returned to the Moot to find little Alice crying in the door. A pathetic little shrimp of a creature she looked, huddled against the door-post, her face hidden, her shoulders quivering, her back to the hostile world. Some children who had been mocking her drew away on Ernie's approach. "What's up, Lal?" he asked tenderly, bending over her. She would not look up. "It's nothing, daddy," she sobbed and crept away up the street, like a wounded animal. Ernie went in. Ruth was sitting alone in the kitchen forlorn and wistful as he had never known her. It was clear to him that the sorrow, whatever it might be, was shared by mother and daughter. He watched her quietly for a minute; then came to her. "What is it, mother?" he asked with unusual gentleness. His tone touched the spring of tears in her heart. She bit her lip. "Its Alf," she said with gasps. "He's been settin em on to her again... He's spiteful because the war's spoilt his Syndicate... So he takes it out of her... They've been tormenting her... Only she wouldn't tell you because she wanted your last day to be happy." Ern went out, found little Alice once again in the door, her pinafore still to her eyes, took her up in his arms and put her in her mother's lap. "Love one another," he said huskily. "And don't forget me." Then he went out again, burning his battle-flare. In half an hour he was back with Joe Burt. There was a strange hushed dignity about him as he entered the kitchen. He might have been a priest about to conduct a ceremony at the altar of the Most High. Joe lagged behind sullen and with downward eyes, twisting his cap. Somehow he looked strangely common beside his friend. Ruth, as she rose to meet the two men, was profoundly conscious of the contrast between them. "Joe," said Ernie, still and solemn, "I bequeath Ruth to you..." In a flash the woman seized the situation. "--to have and to hold," she murmured quietly, her head down to stifle sobs and laughter.