"You ought to be out in Flanders," he declared. "Strong fighters are just what we need. But you're trembling, aunt. What's wrong?"
"I'm afraid of these rough people out in the roadway."
He lighted the gas, and throwing up the window, leaned out. The crowd, recognising a soldier, cheered, and somebody started one of the popular airs. Three mounted policemen moved their horses sideways, and the mob surged off.
"Thought you'd got more nerve, aunt," said Herbert.
"I always use to have plenty," I declared. "But, just lately, my stock seems to shew signs of giving out."
"For any special cause?"
It was not necessary to load him up with troubles directly that he arrived. To a challenge about meals, Herbert admitted that he felt peckish. To another inquiry, made as I found the grill, and started the fire, he explained that he had managed to enter the shop by the device of putting one shoulder against the door, and forcing the lock to give way.
"Corporal Millwood," I remarked at the fire-place, "of the Guards is a very different lad from Herbert Millwood who used to pore over his lessons, and get bible-backed and gain scholarships."
"Sergeant Millwood," he said, drawing himself more upright than ever. "Sergeant Millwood, if you please."