‘When I came to, the veil was so thin that I couldn’t see it at all; and my first thought was, Which side of it have I come out on? The living ones lying on the ground were asking that about themselves, too. There we were, all sitting up and asking whether we were alive or dead; and some were one, and some were the other. Sort of fluke, you know.’ ‘I--I--oh, Dick!’ ‘As soon as each had found out about himself he wondered how it had gone with his chums. I halloo’d to Johnny Randall, and he halloo’d back that he was dead, but that Trotter was living. That’s the way of it. A good deal of chaff, of course. By that time the veil was there, and getting thicker, and we lined up on our right sides. Then I could only see the living ones in shadow and hear their voices from a distance. They sang out to us for a while; but just at first, father, it was rather lonely when we couldn’t hear their tread any longer. What are you fidgeting about? You needn’t worry; that didn’t last long; we were heaps more interested in ourselves than in them. You should have heard the gabbling! It was all so frightfully novel, you see; and no one quite knew what to do next, whether all to start off together, or wait for some one to come for us. I say, what a lot I’m talking!’ ‘What happened, Dick?’ ‘Oh!’ a proud ring coming into the voice, ‘Ockley came for us. He used to be alive, you know--the Ockley who was keeper of the fives in my first half. I once pointed him out to mother. I was jolly glad he was the one who came for us. As soon as I saw it was Ockley I knew we should be all right.’ ‘Dick, I like that Ockley.’ ‘Rather. I wish I could remember something funny to tell you though. There are lots of jokes, but I am such a one for forgetting them.’ He laughs boisterously. We may be sure that he flings back his head. You remember how Dick used to fling back his head when he laughed?--No, you didn’t know him. ‘Father, do you remember little Wantage who was at my private and came on to Ridley’s house in my third half? His mother was the one you called Emily.’ ‘Emily Wantage’s boy.’ ‘That’s the card. We used to call him Jemima, because he and his mother were both caught crying when lock-up struck, and she had to clear out.’ ‘She was very fond of him, Dick.’ ‘Oh, I expect no end. Tell her he’s killed.’ ‘She knows.’ ‘She had got a wire. That isn’t the joke, though. You see he got into a hopeless muddle about which side of the veil he had come out on; and he went off with the other ones, and they wouldn’t have him, and he got lost in the veil, running up and down it, calling to us; and just for the lark we didn’t answer.’ He chuckles. ‘I expect he has become a ghost!’ With sudden consideration, ‘Best not tell his mother that.’