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I HAVE said that Spring arrived late in 1916, and
that up in the trenches opposite Mametz it seemed
as though Winter would last for ever. I also stated
that as for me> I had more or less made up my mind to die
because in the circumstances there didn't seem anything else
to be done. Well, we came back to Morlancourt after
Easter, and on the same evening a message from the
Orderly Room instructed me to proceed to the
Fourth Army School next morning for a month's
refresher-course. Perhaps Colonel Kinjack had heard
that I'd been looking for trouble. Anyhow, my per-
sonal grievance against the Germans was interrupted
for at least four weeks, and a motor-bus carried me
away from all possibility of dying a murky death in
the mine-craters.

Barton saw me off at the crossroads in the middle
of the village. It was a fine day and he had recovered
his good spirits. "Lucky Kangaroo—to be hopping
away for a holiday!" he exclaimed, as I climbed into
the elderly bus. My servant Flook hoisted up my
bulging valise, wiped his red face with his sleeve, and
followed me to the roof. "Mind and keep Mr. Sher-
ston well polished up and punctual on parade,
Flook!" said Barton. Flook grinned; and away we
went. Looking back, I saw Barton's good-natured
face, with the early sun shining on his glasses.