France is all right when you get there; but the day you return is like going back to school.  The next minute I saw Heasy’s beaming face, and we were all over each other at the prospect of an extra day.  My old godfather, who had come to see me off, was the funniest of all—­a peppery Indian edition.  “Not going?” he exclaimed, “I never heard of such a thing!  In my day there was not all this chopping and changing.”  I pointed out that he might at least express his joy that I was to be at home another day, and fuming and spluttering we returned to the D’s.  It’s rather an anti-climax, after saying good-bye and receiving everyone’s blessing, to turn up suddenly once more!

Heasy and I duly met at Charing Cross next morning, to hear that once more the leave boat had been cancelled owing to loosened mines floating about.  Again I returned to my friends who by this time seemed to think I had “come to stay.”  On the Wednesday (we were now getting to know all the porters quite well by sight) we really did get off; but when we arrived at Folkestone it was to find the platform crammed with returning leave-men and officers, and to hear the same tale—­the boat had again been cancelled.  None of the officers were being allowed to return to town, but by dint of good luck and a little palm oil, we dashed into a cab and reached the other station just in time to catch the up-going train.  “We stay at an hotel to-night,” I said to Heasy, “I positively won’t turn up at the D’s again.”  We got to town in time for lunch, and then went to see the Happy Day, at Daly’s (very well named we thought), where Heasy’s brother was entertaining a party.  He had seen us off, “positively for the last time,” at 7.30 that morning.  We saw him in the distance, and in the interval we instructed the programme girl to take round a slip of paper on which we printed:—­“If you will come round to Stalls 21 and 22 you will hear of something to your advantage.”  George Heasman came round utterly mystified, and when he saw us once more, words quite failed him!

On the Thursday down we went again, and this time we actually did get on board, though they kept us hanging about on the Folkestone platform for hours before they decided, and the rain dripped down our necks from that inadequate wooden roofing that had obviously been put up by some war profiteer on the cheap.  The congestion was something frightful, and there were twelve hundred on board instead of the usual seven or eight.  “We can’t blow over at any rate,” I said cheerfully to Heasy, in a momentary lull in the gale.  There were so many people on board that there was just standing room and that was all.  We hastily swallowed some more Mother-sill and hoped for the best (we had consumed almost a whole boxful owing to our many false starts).  We were in the highest spirits.  The only other woman on board was an army sister, who came and stood near us.  Lifebelts were ordered to be put on, and as I tied Heasy’s the aforementioned Sister turned to me and said:  “You ought to tie that tighter; it will come undone very easily in the waves!” Heasy and I were convulsed, and so were all the people within earshot.  “You mustn’t be so cheerful,” I said, as soon as I could speak.