'You must have been a bonny thing when you were young.'

'Away with you!'

'That scarf sets you fine.'

'Blue was always my colour.'

The whistle sounds.

'Old lady, you are what Blighty means to me now.'

She hides in the pantry again. She is out of sight to us, but she
does something that makes Private Dowey take off his bonnet. Then
he shoulders his equipment and departs. That is he laughing coarsely
with Dixon.

We have one last glimpse of the old lady--a month or two after Kenneth's
death in action. It would be rosemary to us to see her in her black
dress, of which she is very proud; but let us rather peep at her in the
familiar garments that make a third to her mop and pail. It is early
morning, and she is having a look at her medals before setting off on
the daily round. They are in a drawer, with the scarf covering them, and
on the scarf a piece of lavender. First, the black frock, which she
carries in her arms like a baby. Then her War Savings Certificates,
Kenneth's bonnet, a thin packet of real letters, and the famous
champagne cork. She kisses the letters, but she does not blub over them.
She strokes the dress, and waggles her head over the certificates and
presses the bonnet to her cheeks, and rubs the tinsel of the cork
carefully with her apron. She is a tremulous old 'un; yet she exults,