deliberate lie, John.

Mrs. Wharton.

This is my son, Mrs. Poole.

John.

[Shaking hands with her.] I daresay you suspected it.

Mrs. Poole.

I had a good look at you in church, you know.

John.

Is that how vicars’ wives behave themselves?

Mrs. Poole.

They allow themselves a little licence when young people come home on leave.

Colonel Wharton.

Did you meet in the village?

John.

Not exactly. I saw Sylvia darting into Mrs. Gann’s shop, evidently to avoid me....

Sylvia.

[Interrupting.] I don’t know how you imagined I could see you out of the back of my head.

John.

So I ran like a hare, and caught her in the very act of buying two pounds of vermicelli.

Sylvia.

To say nothing of a tin of sardines and a packet of mustard.

John.

Now take off your hat, Sylvia. You mustn’t hide the best feature you’ve got.

Sylvia.

[Taking it off.] I hope you don’t think I shall go on doing exactly what you tell me a minute after the war’s over.

John.

I haven’t noticed any startling alacrity to do what I tell you as it is.

Sylvia.

You ungrateful fellow! When have I hesitated to carry out your slightest wish?

Mrs. Wharton.

He’s only been back forty-eight hours, poor dear.

John.

Didn’t I go down to you on my bended knees in the middle of the road and ask you to come for a walk with me?

Sylvia.

Oh, well, I wanted to see your father. I was anxious to hear what the specialist had said.

John.

[Surprised.] Have you been seeing a specialist, father? Aren’t you well?

Colonel Wharton.

Perfectly. It was only to satisfy your poor mother.

John.

But why didn’t you tell me? Is anything the matter with him, mother?

Mrs. Wharton.

My dear, your father wouldn’t let me tell you anything about it when you came. He didn’t want you to be worried. And I thought myself it might just as well keep till to-day.

Colonel Wharton.

The fact is I haven’t been quite up to the mark lately, and Dr. Macfarlane thought I’d better see a specialist. So I went into Canterbury on Saturday and saw Dr. Keller.

Mrs. Poole.

Yes, I heard you’d been to see him. They say he’s very clever.

John.

What did he say?

Colonel Wharton.

Well, you know what these doctor fellows are. He wouldn’t say much to me. He said he’d write to Macfarlane.

John.

Well?

Colonel Wharton.

I suppose Macfarlane got the letter this morning. He’ll probably be round presently.

Mrs. Poole.

I saw him going along the Bleane Road in his dog-cart about an hour ago. You might ask him who it was he was going