Eyes of suffering looked into hers. "I expect I won't be right just yet." They were still together, passing the time with delightful fragments of talk and with fragments of silence equally delightful when a nurse came importantly into the room to say that the Mayor had arrived unexpectedly to look round the hospital and to wish a happy Christmas to his guests. Melia rose rather nervously. "I think I'll be going, Bill." "Not yet, my dear." The voice from the bed was calm and quiet. "We must let bygones be bygones. The times has changed." She was glad to hear him say that. And she had not told him yet of her father's recent act of reparation. Should she tell him now? Was the moment favorable? Or had she better wait until---- The question, however, was already decided. Too late to tell him now. The door at the other end of the room was open and the Commandant had entered followed by his worship the Mayor. "Only one bed in this room, sir," said the Commandant. "A special case. Corporal Hollis." The Mayor looked calmly round. He didn't see Melia who was hidden by a screen between the bedstead and the door. "I notice, ma'am, you've got another door yonder." He pointed to the other end of the room. "Hope these new casements fit well." The new casements fitted very well indeed. "All the same,"--the deep voice was very much that of the man of affairs--"I expect you get a bit of draught here when the wind blows from the northeast." The draught was nothing to speak of, he was assured. "Any complaints? Heating apparatus all right? Ventilators working properly?" There were no complaints to make of any kind. "Thank you, ma'am," said the Mayor. "You can leave me here alone a few minutes with Corporal Hollis--if he's well enough to talk to me." The Commandant retired, closing the door after her, and the Mayor slowly approached the bed. "How are you, Bill?" It was a tone of simple, hearty kindness. Before the occupant of the bed could answer the question, Josiah, coming round the corner of the screen, was taken aback by the sight of his eldest daughter. He was not prepared for her, yet he was quite equal to the situation. "Hulloa, Melia"--it was a father's cordiality. "How are you, gel? Happy Christmas to you. Happy Christmas to you both."