" "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. “It’s—it’s a difficult question. I will light the stove, and there shall be some coffee presently. “I thought you weren’t keeping up to the mark. PRIVATE FIRST CLASS “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry. “But—” The long inconsecutive conversation by that time was getting on her nerves. You’d think he wanted to meet the wretch again. Crossing several fields, newly mown, or filled with lines of tedded hay, she arrived, not without great exertion, at the summit of a hill. He came into the club next day, and of course we went for him thick.
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