"Yes, it is indeed a terrible war," Dr. Farrant agreed; "but we can face it bravely, knowing we're fighting for truth, and honour, and right against might. Ah, your pony's in a hurry to be off, I see!"
Tommy had made a sudden start forward with an impatient shake of his head, and now, as the doctor moved back, he began to turn of his own accord, and two minutes later he had started for home. It was evident he intended returning faster than he had come, for it was as much as his mistress could do to check his pace until he was out of the town.
"You see, he can go well when he likes, my dear," Miss Basset said, smiling at Josephine. "He is a bad starter, but he will soon take us home."
It was one o'clock when the Glen was reached.
Tommy waited to be given a slice of bread, then was led away by Barnes to the stable, whilst Miss Basset and the young people went to get ready for dinner.
"What are we going to do this afternoon?" May inquired during dinner. "What would you like to do, Josephine?"
"I should like to write to father," Josephine answered; "I've such a lot to tell him."
"But, my dear, you don't know where to write to him, do you?" questioned Mr. Basset.
"No, Uncle John. He said probably he would reach England almost as soon as I should, but he would most likely go straight across to France. I mayn't hear from him for a little while, but I should like to begin a letter to him—I can finish it later on."
Mr. Basset nodded.