Bernard's just bringing up some coals, and then we're ready.' Mr.Bernard Strang, a distinguished Home Office official, appeared at that moment in his shirt-sleeves at the head of the kitchen stairs, bearing a scuttle of coal in each hand.
'Gracious! Give me one of them!' said the Captain, hurrying to the rescue.
But Mr.Strang, putting down the right-hand scuttle, to take breath, warned him off.
'Thank you, Chicksands--but no brass hats need apply! Many thanks--but you're too smart!' He pointed, panting, to the red tabs and to the bit of variegated ribbon on Chicksands' broad chest.

'Go and help Pamela bring in the dinner.' The Captain obeyed with alacrity.
'All the servants left on Monday,' said Pamela.

'We had a charwoman this morning, but she's gone to-night, because there's a new moon.' 'What--raids ?' Pamela nodded as she gave him the soup, with instructions to carry it carefully and put it by the fire.

She seemed to be in her gayest mood, and Chicksands' eyes followed her perpetually as she went backwards and forwards on her household tasks.

Presently Mrs.Strang appeared, crimson from the fire, bearing the fishpie and vegetables that were to provide the rationed meal.
'To think,' said Mr.Strang, when they were at last at table, 'that there was a time when we were proud of our "little dinners," and that I never made myself unpleasant unless Margaret spent more than five pounds on the food alone.