For some reason he did not feel hurt or unhappy. He was in his most philosophical mood when he reached his aerodrome. He had a cause for gratification in that she knew his name. Evidently, it was something to be a sergeant if by so being you stand out from the ruck of men. As to her name he had neither thought it opportune nor proper to advance inquiries. He smiled as he changed into his working clothes and wondered why. * * * * * A dozen girl drivers were waiting on the broad road before the 131st General Hospital the next morning, exchanging views on the big things which were happening in their little world, when one spied an airplane. "Gracious--isn't it high! I wonder if it's a German--they're bombing hospitals--it's British, silly--no, it's a German, I saw one just like that over Poperinghe--it's coming right over." "Stand by your cars, ladies, please." The tall "chief's" sharp voice scattered the groups. "He's dropping something--it's a bomb--no, it's a message bag. Look at the streamers!" A bag it was and when they raced to the field in which it fell they discovered that it was improvised, roughly sewn and weighted with sand. The superintendent read the label and frowned. "'To the Driver of Ambulance B. T. 9743, 131st General Hospital'--this is evidently for you, Miss Laramore." "For me, Mrs. Crane?" Vera Laramore came forward, a picture of astonishment and took the bag. "Oh, what fun--who is it, Vera? Open it quickly." The girl pulled open the bag and took out a letter. It bore the same address as that which had been written on the label. Slowly she tore off the end of the envelope. There was a single sheet of paper written in a boyish hand. Without any preliminary it ran: "A sairgeant-pilot, feelin' sair, A spitefu' thing may do, An' so I come to you once mair That I may say--an' true-- As you looked doon on me ane day, Now I look doon on you! "You, fra your height of pride an' clan Heard your high spirit ca', An' so you scorned the common man-- I saw yeer sweet face fa'; But, losh! I'm just that mighty high I can't see you at a'!" It was signed "T" and the girl's eyes danced with joy. She shaded her eyes and looked up. The tiny airplane was turning and she waved her handkerchief frantically. "A friend of yours?" asked the superintendent with ominous politeness. "Ye-es--it's Tam, Mrs. Crane--I ran into him--he ran into me yesterday--" "Tam?" even the severe superintendent was interested, "that remarkable man--I should like to see him. Everybody is talking about him just now. Was it a private letter or an official message from the aerodrome?" "It was private," said the girl, very pink and a note of defiance in her voice, and the superintendent very wisely dropped the subject.