Shelled by an Unseen Foe Part 19

It came time for Zaidos to leave. The last night he was there he wrote a bunch of letters. The first was addressed to school, and commenced:

Fellows:

Well, after all, I'm coming back. Such a lot of things have happened that there is no use writing about them at all. I'll tell you all that it's good for you to hear when I see you. Only there's no reason for me to stay here now as there is now no one in this country belonging to me. My only relative, a cousin about my age, was shot and killed. And I got nipped a little. So they don't want me any more, and I'm coming back on the next steamer. If you can get it, I want my old room.

I'm visiting some fine people here in the country. Met 'em on the battlefield. At least I met two of them there. I saw Nick in London, but he's in France now. You know he's an Earl; but it doesn't seem to worry him. He stepped all over me just the same as ever, and was just as sorry. He wears a uniform, of course, so I don't know if his neckties are as bad as ever they used to be.

It's going to be good to see you. I guess after all I have told you all the news. Nothing much has happened, as you see.

There's a girl here; you never saw anything like her. Say, she makes me feel sorry for you way off there!

Well, so long, boys! I'll see you soon, if we don't get torpedoed.

They don't make many plans over here. They say, "Do come and see me to-morrow if you don't get Zeppelined." So long!

ZAIDOS.

Zaidos folded this letter with the pleased consciousness that he had written a lot of news.

The next was for the doctor.

"Dear Doctor," he wrote, "I'm at the Hazeldens; and they are about the nicest people in the world. Among other members of the family, Mrs.

Hazelden, who was Miss Helen, has a sister who seems a pleasant young lady. I will soon leave for America; and except for leaving the Hazeldens, as well as Helen's sister, who seems real pleasant, I shall be glad to go. I do hate to hang around and do nothing. A million people come here every day and work for the soldiers. I think the men would appreciate it if they could know the amount of tea it takes to keep them going here while they sew.

The money is all fixed up. I do hope you will enjoy spending it. Let me hear from you some day, doctor. Perhaps that is asking a good deal, but it would be fine if you could spare time.

I often think of Velo. Somehow he seems different to me now. There were a lot of things about Velo that used to make me mad, but which now I do not seem to remember. It is a great pity that he died. Perhaps if he had lived, and I had taken him back to school with me, he would have had a different life. I don't know. Anyway, somehow I think of him a good deal, and I'm glad I do, because it must be awful to have no one at all to think of you after you are dead.

I will write again when I get back to America, doctor. Don't forget me and don't forget that I am going to try to be as great a surgeon as you are.

Your friend, ZAIDOS."

The third letter was written in modern Greek, using the familiar "thee"

and "thou" of intimate speech.

My old Nurse Maratha:

The war kept me from thee, when at last I could get away. I would have come to Saloniki if I could but I had an errand that took me straight to England.

Velo is dead, Maratha. He was shot in the big battle. You must have been praying when he died, if I know thee still. And I was shot, too, a little, and must ever walk lame. I tell thee this so no one else may tell thee first. I am only a _little_ lame, though. In a day or two I take ship for America and so back to school, as thou heardst His Highness, my father, plan that last night. Close the house, and go thou to the lodge. Keep all the servants who have served my father for more than ten years and pay them from the money I shall send thee each month. And be very good to Maratha, for I shall come back some day, and she must not be too old or too lame to take care of me.

Good-bye, Maratha. I am always Thy boy, ZAIDOS.

Zaidos sealed the letters and sent them off with a sigh of relief. He had now but one cause of worry. He had promised to write to Helen's sister, and he didn't know what to say! He forgot the fact that he would not have to write the letter until he reached America. But at last he forgot even that when the parting came.

Helen tore herself away from Tony and went down to London to see him off; and Jack went rushing around making all sorts of work for himself.

They were early at the pier, and, after Zaidos' baggage was settled in his stateroom, the three people sauntered back to the dock for the half hour that remained before the first warning call. Three familiar figures came down, looking here and there. Helen saw them and exclaimed, "Why, there's father, and mother, and Alice!"

And sure as fate it was! The rector had had to take the next train for London most unexpectedly, and so thought he would bring his wife and daughter to join in the leave-takings.

So Zaidos had quite a little group of people waving him good-bye as the ship went slowly out into the west. But the gaze that held him longest and the face he saw the last was not Helen's!