“Bravo, Chubby!” he cried. “Bravo, Chubby! Commend me to Mellicent for good, sound common-sense. The prospect of squatting on a board, selling matches, is not exhilarating, I must confess. I’m glad there is one person at least who thinks my prospects are improved.” He gave a little sigh, which was stifled with praiseworthy quickness. “Well, the worst is over now that I have told you and written the letter to India. Those were the two things that I dreaded most. Now I shall just have to face life afresh, and see what can be made of it. I must have a talk with you, sir, later on, and get your advice. Cheer up, Peggikins! Cheer up, mater! It’s no use grieving over spilt milk, and Christmas is coming. It would never do to be in the dolefuls over Christmas! I’ve got a boxful of presents upstairs—amused myself with buying them yesterday to pass the time. You come up with me to-night, Peg, and I’ll give you a peep. You look better than I expected, dear, but fearsome scraggy! We shall have to pad her out a bit, sha’n’t we, mater? She must have an extra helping of plum pudding this year.” He rattled on in his own bright style, or in as near an imitation of it as he could manage, and the others tried their best to follow his example, and make the evening as cheery as possible. Once or twice the joy of being all together again in health and strength conquered the underlying sorrow, and the laughter rang out as gayly as ever, but the next moment Arthur would draw in his breath with another of those short, stabbing sighs, and Peggy would shiver, and lie back trembling among her pillows. She had no heart to look at Christmas presents that night, but Arthur carried her upstairs in his strong arms, laid her on her bed, and sat beside her for ten minutes’ precious private talk. “It’s a facer, Peg,” he said. “I can’t deny it’s a facer. When I walked out of that doctor’s room I felt as weak as a child. The shock knocked the strength out of me. I had never thought of anything else but being a soldier, you see, and it’s a strange experience to have to face life afresh, with everything that you had expected taken out of it, and nothing ahead but blankness and disappointment. I’ve been so strong too—as strong as a horse. If it hadn’t been for that blow—well, it’s over and it’s a comfort to me to feel that it was not my own fault. If I’d been lazy or careless and had failed in the exam, it would have driven me crazy; but this was altogether beyond my control. It is frightfully rough luck, but I don’t mean to howl—I must make the best of what’s left!” “Yes, yes, I’m sure you will. You have begun well, for I think you have been wonderfully brave and courageous about it, Arthur dear!”