"Come on," said Harry, pulling Dick along with him. "You mustn't
start quarreling now - it's time for all of us to stand together,
Dick. I don't care what he says, anyhow."

He managed to get his fiery chum outside, and they hurried along,
at the scout pace, running and walking alternately, toward the
West Kensington station of the Underground Railway. They were in
their khaki scout uniforms, and several people turned to smile
admiringly at them. The newspapers had already announced that the
Boy Scouts had turned out unanimously to do whatever service they
could, and it was a time when women -- and it was mostly women who
were in the streets -- were disposed to display their admiration
of those who were working for the country very freely.

They had little to say to one another as they hurried along; their
pace was such as to make it wise for them to save their breath.
But when they reached the station they found they had some minutes
to wait for a train, and they sat down on the platform to get
their breath. They had already had one proof of the difference
made by a state of war.

Harry stopped at the ticket window.

"Two-third class -- for Ealing," he said, putting down the money.
But the agent only smiled, having seen their uniforms.

"On the public service ?" he questioned.

"Yes," said Harry, rather proudly.