TheCompleteMemoirsOfGeorgeSherston

becoming chilly, and we weren't sorry when we
were moved into the Workhouse, which was quite
near the farm where we had been camping. Sleep-
ing in the Workhouse seemed luxurious; but it put
an end to the summer holiday atmosphere of the
previous weeks, and there were moments when I felt
less light-hearted than I would have admitted to
myself at the time. Soon afterwards young Nunburne
(the M.P.'s son) was whisked away to Sandhurst, his
father having decided that he would be more suitably
situated as a subaltern in the Guards. His departure
made a difference, but it did not convince me that I
ought to become an officer myself, though Cockbird,
also, had in a manner of speaking, accepted a com-
mission.

For the daily spectacle of Cockbird's discomforts
(the most important of which was the enormous
weight of equipment which he had to carry) had in-
duced me to transfer him to the squadron commander,
who was glad to get hold of such a good-looking and
perfect-mannered charger. Having got a tolerably
comfortable horse in exchange, I now had the satis-
faction of seeing Cockbird moving easily about with
a light-weight on his back and a properly trained
groom to look after him. I felt proud of him as I
watched his elegant and pampered appearance.

"Of course you'll be able to buy him back at the
end of the War," said the squadron commander; but
I knew that I had lost him; it was a step nearer to
bleak realization of what I was in for. Anyhow, I
thought, Dixon would hate to see old Cockbird being
knocked about in the ranks. As for Cockbird, he
didn't seem to know me since his promotion.

It must have been about this time that I began to
be definitely bored with Yeomanry life. It was now

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