The morning sun rose clear and bright and smiled as if it had no memories of the night before. Wherever one might look tents lay in heaps upon the ground, but not a breath of wind stirred the fresh cool air. Fainter and more faint from the distance came the weird strain of the bagpipes—a Highland regiment was passing down the hill, starting on that long journey whence all might not return. Our men had breakfasted and were already at work raising the fallen tents. The adjutant emerged from his abode wearing a weary smile—he hadn’t slept much. "’What of the night?’" he cried. "The storm has given me an appetite. Where’s breakfast? I’m as hungry as an R.M.C. cadet." Where indeed was breakfast? As yet we had no "mess"; our goods were still unpacked. "There’s a soldiers’ buffet managed by ladies in the cottage yonder," said Fraser, pointing to a brick house on the crest of the hill. Trust Fraser to know where grub abounds! "Perhaps I can persuade the little lady of the place..." "You’ll need help," Reggy interpolated hastily. "Some one with persuasive powers. I’ll go along." Reggy’s eagerness to go suggested other distractions than foraging. We said we would accompany him—lest he forget. We entered a long room at the rear of the house, which had been a carpenter’s shop before the war. It was furnished with two long tables, benches, and a large number of kitchen chairs. The carpenter’s tools hung unused upon the wall. At the farther end of the room several young women and one of maturer years were rapidly cutting up bread and meat for sandwiches, buttering appetising French rolls and placing them all in large baskets. It looked enough to feed a multitude. We approached the table. One young woman looked up, apparently more from courtesy than with any special interest in our arrival, and said: "Good morning!" It was true then; they _were_ English-women. They were as cool—and refreshing—as the air outside. Reggy saluted gravely. "May we have something to eat, please?" he inquired hesitatingly. The young woman looked up again, with a surprised smile. "But you are not Tommies," she replied. "No; merely officers, and very hungry ones at that." She looked a trifle perplexed. "We don’t serve officers here," she asserted. "You see, this buffet is meant for Tommies only." Bless their hearts! Here at least was one place where the officer was discounted, and Tommy was king. We had been fêted and pampered to such an extent that we had lost sight of the true proportion of things. Here were women who realised that Tommy is quite as important as his officer, that he is a man and as such has rights. We honoured the young women who could thus devote themselves to the men who really needed their help most. But this elevating thought did not appease our hunger in the least. We still wanted something to eat, and the dainty food before us failed to modify our internal cravings. "Couldn’t we have just one bun?" Reggy coaxed.