Patricia felt she could help but little, console even less. For it must be remembered that all such difficulties were dealt with in days of leave, extorted from a sulkily-reluctant Adjutant; failing that extortion, by telegraph, letter and long-distance telephone. The bulk of those two months, Peter had to live with his regiment. And the regiment provided no antidote for annoyances.

Major Fox-Goodwin’s promotion to the Command of the Chalkshires newly-formed twelfth Battalion, and the transfer-application of his two senior subalterns, gave Locksley, who accepted this answer to his pourparlers in silence, his chance. Bromley and Peter, Peabody and Arkwright, found themselves swamped out with full lieutenants, all eager for promotion to Captaincies.

It was already understood among the men that “Mr. ’Arold ’ad ’ad enough, of that there Locksley; and ‘P.J.’ ’e’d thrown his ’and in too.” At the slightest opening, the Cockneys would have shown on which side their sympathies lay. But no such opening was provided.

The two friends carried on loyally, helping their not-too-competent seniors towards efficiency.

And always, the Company improved. By now, it had khaki uniforms (though not its equipment): and a long rifle, servicable though not “Service Pattern,” for every man. It had, too, a band of its own—three flutes and two drums—to which it marched merrily along the sea-front.

Bromley, less externally occupied than Peter, grew very grave those days. It weighed on him to give up this weapon he had forged, to feel that other hands would carry it into action. To Bromley—not realizing his friend’s reticence in troubles—P.J. seemed positively heartless. He cursed about Locksley every now and then; avoided him at Mess or on the streets; drank rather more than usual; but gave no other sign of being harassed either about the loss of “B” Company or the loss of Nirvana.

It was P.J. who suggested applying to Torrington for some “books about this new gunnery game,” P.J. who insisted that they must study them together, “so as not to look bally idiots when our transfer does come through.”

And study they did—four hours an evening—for the whole two months.

It will be observed that the Weasel proved himself no mean judge of a man’s keenness when he picked out these two over a magnum of champagne!