John smiled as he put the letter away. At that very moment, one of those "dear little middies" lay with his head fast asleep on John's shoulder, where he had slipped over. He would have to tell Muriel that they detested being called "dear," "little," or "middies," and that the average "snotty" could be entrusted to look well after himself. There was another letter from Bobbie. He was not fit for foreign service and he had been given a post at the War Office. Miss Piggin sent a pair of woollen gloves she had knitted in "desperate moments," for Chawley School was now a hospital for the wounded, with Mrs. Tobin as commandant, "very successful, her firmness keeping the men in order." Mr. Tobin was a chaplain at the front. She had had a piece of Egyptian pottery sent by Mr. Woodman, who was a lieutenant in the Yeomanry stationed near the Suez Canal. Having read his letters John surveyed his carriage, thinking of sleep. He had been unable to get a sleeping berth, but there was only the "snotty" and himself in the compartment. That young gentleman had been solacing himself for his departure from home-worship and civilisation, with a copy of _La Parisienne_ and the semi-nude mademoiselles therein, all of whom appeared to spend their time dressed only in chemises, sitting on the knees of officers. John reflected on the necessity of a press censor for the safeguarding of "snotties'" morals. The immediate problem was how to dispose of this lad without waking him, if possible. John looked at the face on his shoulder; it might have been a baby's, so fresh and unwrinkled, with a little red mouth through which a row of white teeth just showed. Very quietly he lowered the lad until he was reclining on the full length of the seat; pulling his legs up entailed risk, but it was done, and the Navy slept soundly. John made himself comfortable and dozed off. II He was awakened by a ray of sunlight striking his eyes. The train was standing in a small station. Looking out of the window, he saw a group of houses, all brightly yellow in the morning sun. A slight mist and a chill air told him it was early morning and there was the smell of the sea in the air. A great range of blue mountains loomed in the distance, with a flat estuary between, and the tide out. He was alone in the compartment, but in a minute or so his companion returned along the platform, fresh-coloured and bright-eyed in the nipping air, bearing two cups of steaming coffee. "Will you have one, sir?" he asked. "I'm awfully sorry I went to sleep on you last night--did I push you off the seat, sir?" John laughed and explained. "Where are we?" he asked. "Bonar Bridge--we're on the Highland Railway now, sir. We've passed Cromarty Firth--we've got a dummy fleet in there to diddle Fritz--then through Sutherlandshire--jolly wild and desolate over those moors all the way to Thurso. We'll be there by tea-time, sir."