The blind was down, for the sunshine was streaming in at the little leaded window, threatening the perils of dissolution to the sugar mice (made before the sugar scarcity, indeed, it must be confessed, before the War) and of fermentation to the tinned crab. Tom’s hand may have shaken a little as he pulled down the latch, but except for that his manner was stout, very different from his sheepish entrances of months ago. Buzz ... ting ... Thyrza looked up from the packing-case she was breaking open behind the counter. The next moment she gave a little cry. She had just been thinking of Tom at Waterheel, wondering if it was his dinner-time yet, and what Cookie had put in the stew; and then she had lifted her eyes to see his broad, sunburnt face smiling at her from the door, with his hair curling under his khaki cap, and his sturdy figure looking at once stronger and slimmer in its uniform. “Tom!” she gasped, and held out her hand across the counter—hoping.... But he had gone beyond the timid daring of those days. Before she knew what was happening, he had marched boldly round behind the counter and taken her in his arms. 14 Tom’s family gave a poor reception to his news that this was “last leave” before going to France. “I knew as that there telegram meant something tar’ble,” wailed Mrs. Beatup. “It wurn’t fur naun I cried, Nell, though you did despise me.” “I didn’t despise you,” said Nell; “you’re very unjust, mother.” “Unjust, am I?—wud my boy going out to be slaughtered like a pig.” “I aun’t going to be slaughtered, mother—not if I know it. It’s I who’ll do the slaughtering.” “You who’d go swummy at wringing a cockerel’s neck.... Reckon a German ull taake some killing—want more’n a twist and a pull.” “He’ll want no more’n I’ve got to give him. Now, doan’t you taake on so, mother—there’s naun to vrother about. Maybe I woan’t be off so soon after all—it’s only an idea that’s going round. And if I do go, I aun’t afeard. I’ve a feeling as no harm ull come to me.” “And I’ve a feeling as it will. Howsumdever ... I mun think as I’ve got four children left ... and a hoame ... and a husband”—remembering her blessings one by one. Mus’ Beatup was inclined to be contemptuous. “Wot fur are they sending you out now? You’ve bin training scarce five month.” “Many of the boys git less.” “Maybe they do, wud Governmunt being wot it is. As if anyone wud know cudn’t see as it taakes ten year to maake a looker.” “Reckon things have to go quicker in the Army than on a farm. If we all took ten years to git ready, the Bosches ud have us middling soon.” “They’d taake ten years, too, and it ud all go much better.” “At that raate we’d never have done, surelye.”