Evening star., 1930-06-18
(Continued PROM Yesterday,s Star. }

and kept him above the level of the
moor. 1t would be too theatrical to
write TO his father and Madge in case
anything went wrong. Besides. after
That awful business with Dennis yes
Cerday, he wasn't so keen on writing
letters. What on earth could the trouble
nave been about? If only he could get
hold of Dennis for a moment he was
sure he could clear up the misunder-
standing-because it could only be a
misunderstanding; he realized that all
right. But Dennis was so busy with all
this business of wiring the trenches
properly, with all his arrangements in
the event of an attack, and with the
Preparations for the raid.
Back to the raid again. Funny how
one could not get it out Of ones mind.
He began going through his instruc-
tions, to make quite sure that when the
time came he wouldn't make a mess of
things. In way he was lucky to have
so responsible job thrust on to his
shoulders when he had only just come
out. Odd, though, that they hadn't
chosen HILBERT!
Osborne drank up his coffee with q
little grimace, knocked cut the ashes
Of his pipe against his big, muddy boot,
and, though he was not on duty,
strolled up to the trenches. A little
beyond the dugout was q hRlf-made
trench which. for some reason best
known to the people higher up, had
been abandoned. Near the end it be-
came quite shallow, but a low mound
servation. And Osborne was able to
sit on the edge of what would have been
o parapet, turn his back to the war,
and gaze westward toward country-be-
yond the range of his vision, alaS-that
had escaped devastation. 1t was q
beautiful afternoon, and there was q
clean freshness in the air which made
him look round for signs of Spring.
There had once been a wood here, but
this year few trees would burst into
leaf. for there was not one of them
which had not been smashed and
splintered by shell fire. And, even SO,
branches which had not been entirely
severed from the parent trunk had be-
gun here and there to show little,
despairing, green buds. Defiant blades
OF grass were struggling up through the
earth blackened or diScolored by the
chemicals which men had discovered
for use in the struggle of mutual
destruction. Even here, where hope
was folly. Spring would fll mems hearts
with new hope.
Osborne took out his pipe, but
hesitated as he was about to fill it, and
then put his tobacco pouch back into
IlAS pOChBb. Ll6 ScCuleu 10 DC
quite safe here, there was no point in
advertising his presence by sending
wisps of blue smoke floating upward in
the still air, like smoke from cottage
chimneyS in the peace of an Autumn
afternoon.
Whatever was to happen, Osborne
told himself, had had a lot to be thank
full for. This empty pipe, its bowl burnt
and blackened, and Its stem almost
bitten through, had been his companion
through so many happy hourS-on
walking tours in Devonshire. the
Chilterns and the New Forest: while he
was fishing with fiy in some cheerful,
hurrying, noisy mountain stream. or
with q worm and float in the lazy
reaches of some river winding its slow
way through fields thick with bulrushes
or meadowsweet. Even at home on the
veranda, the task of correcting large
piles of exercise books had been mitigat-
ed by this pipe and the homely sounds
around hin-the clattering Of the cups
and ssucers in the kitchen, for Ethel
had never learned TO curb her boisterous
spirits when she dealt with china; the
noise of fellows on the playing field,
remote enough to be pleasant; the
eplashing from the bathroom above,
where Joan was supervising the scrub
binR of the children, tired and dirty
from busy day picking blackberries or
flowers along the hedges and on the
common. Joan had complained often
enough of the pipe. but then no woman
ever understood the value Of a pipe or
n walking stick, or even an old, rough
country suit.
No, Whatever happened, he had
nothing much TO grufnhle about. He
had not been ambitious enough to look
upon the world IN possessive. greedy
way. There were Joan, the children,
memories Of Rugger matches, days In
the country, talks with friends over .
Winter fire, occasional flashes OF salts.
faction when he felt that he had given
real and lasting help to some boy at
school, and now this great experience
of war. He had lived more fully during
these few months than ever before, and,
II he hated the dirt and brutality OF 1t
all as much as-more than those other,
younger men, upon whose minds It
would engrave q shallower impression,
he was also grateful for what it had
shown him of courage, Self-sacrifice,
These qualities had existed, of course,
: IN the old days, but only catastrophe
could bring them thus clearly to the
surface. He felt no fear Of what the
raid might bring to him-only pro-
found hope, almost a prayer, that ne
would be left alive in world where
there were so many lovely things.
But what about Joan and the two
boys? How would they manage? He
had put aside very little money during
these years of building up his school,
and the good will of the place would
not be worth much in this age Of un-
certainty. Would Joan feel about 1t in
the same way as he had, and not be too
resentful and embittered If he did not
come back? So many women found
almost historical comfort in the thought
that their sons or husbands had died
while fighting for their country. But
she was too clear-headed to be con-
soled by this manifestation Of mob
psychology. But If she knew, If he
had been able to convey to her on his
last leave how he himself felt about 1t,
It would be all right. There was job
TO be done-it ought never to have
arisen and it should never be allowed
70 mrise again, but that was not the
point at the moment; that would be
sSr the survivors to wrangle about
G,ere was a job to be done, and there
Pas a deep satisfaction to be got out
tf 1t. 1t was a tragic job, but less so
for him, who had had so much out of
. life, than for all these youngsters who
did not even realize how unlucky they
we're, so new were they to existence.
His thoughts turned to his own two
boys. They would miss him in so many
ways, but perhaps they would feel It
most of all when he no longer came
+ into their room early in the morning TO
read to them. The Water Babies and
Alice in Wonderland had given place
TO the books of Fenimore Cooper and
Ballantyne, which. in turn, had been
ousted by those of Dickens and Scott.
When he was last on leave he had
found Winwood Reade's Martyrdom of
Ma,, in .Innn's nom hut be could not