A year later Doggie Trevor returned to Durdlebury. He had been laid up in hospital with a wounded leg, the result of fighting the German snipers in front of the first line trenches, and he was now on his way back to France. Durdlebury had not changed in the interval; it was Marmaduke Trevor that had changed. He measured about ten inches more around the chest than the year before, and his hands were red and calloused from hard work. He was as straight as an Indian now, and in his rough khaki uniform of a British private he looked every bit a man--yes, and more than that, a veteran soldier. For Doggie had passed through battle after battle, gas attacks, mine explosions, and months of dreary duty in water-filled trenches, where only brave and tough men could endure. He had been tried in the furnace and he had come out pure gold. Doggie entered the familiar Deanery, and was met by Peggy with a glad smile of welcome. His uncle, the Dean, appeared in the hall, florid, whitehaired, benevolent, and extended both hands to the homecoming warrior. "My dear boy," he said, "how glad I am to see you! Welcome back! And how's the wound?" Opening the drawing-room door, he pushed Doggie inside. A tall, lean figure in uniform, which had remained in the background by the fireplace, advanced with outstretched hand. "Hello, old chap!" Doggie took the hand in an honest grip. "Hello, Oliver!" "How goes it?" asked Oliver. "Splendid," said Doggie. "Are you all right?" "Tip-top," answered Oliver. He clapped his cousin on the shoulder. "My hat! you do look fit." He turned to the Dean. "Uncle Edward, isn't he a hundred times the man he was?" In a little while tea came. It appeared to Doggie, handing round the three-tiered cake-stand, that he had returned to some forgotten existence. The delicate china cup in his hand seemed too frail for the material usages of life, and he feared lest he break it, for Doggie was accustomed to the rough dishes of the private. The talk lay chiefly between Oliver and himself and ran on the war. Both men had been at Ypres and at Arras, where the British and German trenches lay only five yards apart. "I ought to be over there now," said Oliver, "but I just escaped shell-shock and I was sent home for two weeks." "My crowd is at the Somme," said Doggie. "You're well out of it, old chap," laughed Oliver. For the first time in his life Doggie began really to like Oliver. Oliver stood in his eyes in a new light, that of the typical officer, trusted and beloved by his men, and Doggie's heart went out to him. After some further talk, the men separated to dress for dinner. "You've got the green room, Marmaduke," said Peggy. "The one with the Chippendale furniture you used to covet so much." "I haven't got much to change into," laughed Doggie, looking down at his uniform. "You'll find Peddle up there waiting for you."