“What do you advise?  Shall I go up, heh?”

“I think you’ll be a godsend to poor Ted; you’ll keep his spirits up.  Eve won’t get any leave till Easter; and I can be quite alone, and see to Nollie here.  The servants can have a holiday—­, Nurse and I will run the house together.  I shall enjoy it.”

“You’re a good woman, Thirza!” Taking his wife’s hand, he put it to his lips.  “There isn’t another woman like you in the world.”

Thirza’s eyes smiled.  “Pass me your cup; I’ll give you some fresh coffee.”

It was decided to put the plan into operation at mid-month, and she bent all her wits to instilling into her husband the thought that a baby more or less was no great matter in a world which already contained twelve hundred million people.  With a man’s keener sense of family propriety, he could not see that this baby would be the same as any other baby.  “By heaven!” he would say, “I simply can’t get used to it; in our family!  And Ted a parson!  What the devil shall we do with it?”

“If Nollie will let us, why shouldn’t we adopt it?  It’ll be something to take my thoughts off the boys.”

“That’s an idea!  But Ted’s a funny fellow.  He’ll have some doctrine of atonement, or other in his bonnet.”

“Oh, bother!” said Thirza with asperity.

The thought of sojourning in town for a spell was not unpleasant to Bob Pierson.  His Tribunal work was over, his early, potatoes in, and he had visions of working for the Country, of being a special constable, and dining at his Club.  The nearer he was to the front, and the more he could talk about the war, the greater the service he felt he would be doing.  He would ask for a job where his brains would be of use.  He regretted keenly that Thirza wouldn’t be with him; a long separation like this would be a great trial.  And he would sigh and run his fingers through his whiskers.  Still for the Country, and for Nollie, one must put up with it!

When Thirza finally saw him into the train, tears stood in the eyes of both, for they were honestly attached, and knew well enough that this job, once taken in hand, would have to be seen through; a three months’ separation at least.

“I shall write every day.”

“So shall I, Bob.”

“You won’t fret, old girl?”

“Only if you do.”

“I shall be up at 5.5, and she’ll be down at 4.50.  Give us a kiss—­damn the porters.  God bless you!  I suppose she’d mind if—­I—­were to come down now and then?”

“I’m afraid she would.  It’s—­it’s—­well, you know.”

“Yes, Yes; I do.”  And he really did; for underneath, he had true delicacy.

Her last words:  “You’re very sweet, Bob,” remained in his ears all the way to Severn Junction.