CECIL.  Gentlemen, you have recalled me to myself.  I had forgotten that I was no more a child.  I wanted to dance in the sun with the flowers, and sing with the birds, to swim in the pool with yonder newt, and lie down to dry in the long meadow grass among the poppies.  Because I might not do this and other things as fond and foolish, I was petulant and peevish, like a spoilt child.  I look to you, gentlemen, to help me to be a man, and play a man’s part in the world.

HONOUR.  We will remain at hand, call us when you need us, we shall not fail you.

(The bombardment increases in intensity.  Shrapnel bursts overhead.  Shells with increasing rapidity and accuracy explode both short and over the trench.  The hail of bullets is continuous.  An N.C.O. rushes by shouting “Stand to”; men rush from the dug-outs and seize their rifles; CECIL, like the others, grasps his rifle and sees that it is fully loaded.)

    (Curtain.)

ACT IV.  SUNSET

SCENE. The same, but the wall of sand-bags bags is broken in many places.  The dead lie half-buried beneath them. CECIL lies, badly wounded, against a gap in the wall, his rifle by his side. HONOUR and DUTY kneel beside him tenderly.  The last rays of the sun light up his painful smile. THIRST stands gloomily over him, and the wild flowers are peeping at him with sleepy eyes through the gap, while MOTHER EARTH calls to them to go to bed. FATHER SUN leans sadly over the broken parapet.

CECIL (slowly and with difficulty).  Honour, Duty, I thank you.  You did not fail me.

HONOUR.  You played the man, Cecil, as your father did before you.

DUTY.  Your example it was that steadied your comrades, and kept craven fear at a distance.  You saved the trench.

HONOUR.  This is the beauty of manhood, to die for a good cause.  There is no fairer thing in all God’s world.

CECIL.  I thank you.  Good-night, Sun; good-night, Mother Earth.  Think kindly of me.  I don’t think I was mad after all.

SUN.  Good-night, brave lad. (To MOTHER EARTH) I can hardly bear to look on so sad a sight.

CECIL.  Good-night, Ragged Robins; good-night, Poppies.  You have played your game, and I mine.  Only they are different because we are different.

CHORUS OF FLOWERS.  Good-night, dear Cecil.  We are so very sorry that you are hurt.

    (Enter the MASTER, flowers shyly following him. HONOUR
    and DUTY raise CECIL gently to a standing position.)

THE MASTER (extending his arms with a loving smile).  “Well done, good and faithful servant.  Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.”

    (CECIL, with a look of wonder and joy, is borne forward.)

    (Curtain.)