"There are some other chaps, you know, off the roads too, but they're down by the lodge somewhere." (He broke off and then continued.) "I've got such a queer Johnnie in my room--ah! you've got one, too." He went up to examine a small plaster statue of a saint above the prie-dieu.
"It's all right, isn't it ?" said Frank sleepily.
"And there's another Johnnie's name on the door.

The Rev.S.Augustine, or something." He tip-toed back to the fire, lifted his tails, and stood warming himself with a complacent but nervous smile.
(Frank regarded him with wonder.) "What do all the Johnnies do here ?" asked the Major presently.

"Have a rare old time, I expect.

I bet they've got cellars under here all right.
Just like those chaps in comic pictures, ain't it ?" (Frank decided it was no use to try to explain.) The Major babbled on a minute or two longer, requiring no answer, and every now and then having his roving eye caught by some new marvel.

He fingered a sprig of yew that was twisted into a crucifix hung over the bed.