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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/36428-8.txt b/36428-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c0fb2c4 --- /dev/null +++ b/36428-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11143 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Soul of Susan Yellam, by Horace Annesley +Vachell + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Soul of Susan Yellam + + +Author: Horace Annesley Vachell + + + +Release Date: June 14, 2011 [eBook #36428] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUL OF SUSAN YELLAM*** + + +E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Carol Brown, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +THE SOUL OF SUSAN YELLAM + +by + +HORACE ANNESLEY VACHELL + +Author of +Some Happenings, Quinneys, +Blinds Down, Loot, etc. + + + + + + + +[Illustration: printer's decoration] + +New York +Grosset & Dunlap +Publishers + +Copyright, 1918, +By George H. Doran Company + +Printed in the United States of America + + + + + TO THE MEMORY OF + MY SON + RICHARD TANFIELD VACHELL + CAPTAIN, FIFTH FUSILIERS + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I MOTHER AND SON 11 + + II FANCY BROOMFIELD 27 + + III INTRODUCING MRS. MUCKLOW 42 + + IV LE PAYS DU TENDRE 57 + + V UNCLE 70 + + VI FIRST IMPRESSIONS 86 + + VII SECOND IMPRESSIONS 101 + + VIII RECRUITING 116 + + IX PARSON'S METHODS 130 + + X FANCY'S ORDEAL 144 + + XI THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS 160 + + XII THE EMPTY PEW 174 + + XIII FANCY CONSULTS THE CARDS 190 + + XIV HYMENEAL 203 + + XV LEANNESS OF SOUL 217 + + XVI SAINT WILLUM 234 + + XVII FOOL-WISDOM 248 + + XVIII MISSING! 263 + + XIX SUSPENSE 279 + + XX THE TRAVELLER RETURNS 294 + + + + +THE SOUL OF SUSAN YELLAM + + + + +THE +SOUL OF SUSAN YELLAM + + + + +CHAPTER I + +MOTHER AND SON + + +The village church at Nether-Applewhite has been described as an +interesting chapter in ecclesiastical architecture. It stands a little +apart from the cottages upon a hill which presents something of the +appearance of a tumulus. Part of the church is Norman, but to the +uninstructed the outside has been mellowed by time and weather into a +charming homogeneity. It was embellished early in the eighteenth century +by the addition of a brick tower. The inside is likely to challenge even +the uncritical eye. The transept is as long as the nave, and two large +galleries arrest attention in the west end. Overlooking the chancel is +the Squire's pew, a sort of royal opera-box, provided with chairs, a +table, and a fireplace, not to mention a private entrance. Opposite to +this, across the chancel, stands a three-decker pulpit of +seventeenth-century woodwork, with a fine hexagonal canopy. On the north +side of the steps to the chancel is a mutilated fifteenth-century +screen. + +Squire and parson can see every member of the congregation. + +There are large pews in nave and transept occupied by the gentry and +farmers, and many small pews which--although the seats in the church are +spoken of as "free"--have been used habitually by certain cottagers. One +of these pews in the nave was known as the Yellam pew. Sunday after +Sunday, rain or shine, Susan Yellam sat bolt upright in her pew. Her +son, Alfred, sat beside her. Mother and son were never guilty of missing +a response, or of looking behind them, or of failing to contribute +something in copper to the offertory plate. If a stranger happened to be +conducting the service, and if he was so lost to a sense of duty as to +display unseemly haste, Mrs. Yellam's voice might be heard, loud and +clear, setting the proper pace. At the end of every prayer, her "Amen" +came to be accepted, even by the young and thoughtless, as a grace and +benediction. Always she wore decent black, as became a woman who had +buried--in the churchyard outside--a husband and three children. But her +Easter bonnet had a touch of mauve in it. + +Her clothes were not the least part of a tremendous personality. +Children believed that she went to bed in her black gown. Authority +exuded from every pore of her skin. Probably Boadicea was cast in just +such a generous mould. She possessed, as will be seen presently, that +British cocksureness which so endears us to foreigners. Her particular +views upon religion, politics, ethics and agriculture (she tended her +own garden admirably)--views constantly aired for the benefit of her +neighbours--had become indurated by use. They had stood, as she informed +all and sundry, the test of time and experience. The Parson, Mr. Hamlin, +observed of her that she was temperamentally incapable of detecting the +defects of her great qualities. She supported Squire and Parson in all +that they said or did, and after the gracious lady of the manor was the +most respected woman in Nether-Applewhite. + +Upon a certain Sunday in June, 1914, Susan Yellam sat as usual in her +pew. Across the aisle, higher up, sat the Squire's servants, and behind +them the Parson's three maids. Before the service began, Mrs. Yellam +noticed that one of the maids was a stranger and not country-bred. The +girl flaunted no finery, but the cut of her modest skirt and jacket +proclaimed her urban. Mrs. Yellam guessed that this was Mr. Hamlin's new +parlourmaid from Old Sarum. She might be described as pretty, but +"peaky" and "spindling." The Squire preached eugenics, in and out of +season, and upon the subject of young females as potential mothers Mrs. +Yellam saw eye to eye with that genial autocrat. However, she consoled +herself with the reflection that Nether-Applewhite air and good plain +food would accomplish a much needed change. She hoped that the girl +would not smirk or giggle if old Captain Davenant read the lessons, an +infallible test in propriety for strangers. And she wondered vaguely +what Alfred would think of her. For a season, Alfred had "walked out" +with this young woman's predecessor, a bouncing, red-cheeked lass of the +village. Nothing had come of such perambulations. Alfred was what the +French term "un célebataire endurci." And he was made extremely +comfortable at home. But he had passed his thirtieth year, and of late +his mother had hinted discreetly that her cottage, larger than most, +could accommodate three persons--or more. + +Her thoughts were distracted from the new parlourmaid by the arrival of +the Squire and his party. All eyes in the church were concentrated upon +the Squire's only son, Lionel, who brought with him his young wife, +Joyce, the daughter of Mr. Hamlin. Mrs. Yellam knew that this had been a +love-match, brought to a happy issue against opposition. It was known, +also, that Master Lionel had left his regiment, the Rifle Brigade, and +was installed as his sire's land agent. Tongues had wagged freely +concerning a young soldier's competence for such a position. But Mrs. +Yellam had firm faith in the lords of the soil. Master Lionel, in her +opinion, had done the real right thing, both in his choice of a wife and +of a calling. Perhaps to her the call of the land sounded a more clarion +note than any other. + +Mr. Hamlin and the choir filed in. The congregation rose. In the days of +Mr. Hamlin's predecessor, nobody budged from his comfortable seat when +the parson bustled out of the vestry. Mr. Hamlin had changed all that. +He put down billing and cooing in the galleries, and the sucking of +peppermints. At first he was regarded with hostile eyes as an innovator, +but gradually it became known that he had restored forms and ceremonies +which presented definite meaning to the instructed. Villagers love forms +and ceremonies when they are discreetly led to understand them. + +Old Captain Davenant read the lessons, and the new parlourmaid emerged +triumphant from the ordeal. Mrs. Yellam noticed, too, that she joined in +the responses, and sang the hymns in a modestly restrained, clear, +musical voice. Later, she listened attentively to the sermon. So far, so +good. At the same time, it became obvious to the mother that her son, +even more than herself, was impressed by the deportment and behaviour of +this pretty stranger. During the psalms Alfred's eyes strayed too often +across the narrow aisle, and at sounds of a soft, beguiling voice he +opened his mouth and left it open for a significant space of time. + +After church, Mrs. Yellam walked home by herself, exchanging sober +greetings with her neighbours. Alfred lingered in the churchyard, as was +his custom, because, being a carrier, he captured a little extra trade +thereby. Also, although a confirmed bachelor, he liked to bandy +pleasantries with the women, young and old, who were indeed his +principal customers. + +Mrs. Yellam, having curtsied respectfully to the Squire and his lady, +moved majestically along the village street. As she passed the baker's a +savoury odour of baked meats assailed her nostrils. It is said that +smell affects the memory potently. So long as she could remember, Susan +Yellam had connected this smell of baked meat with Divine Service. As a +child she had fetched her Sunday dinner from the grandfather of the +present baker, and, always, as a reward, her mother had given her a +large lollipop. After she married, her Sunday dinner was cooked for her +in the same oven and carried to her cottage by a small maid, who, then +and there, received and consumed an immense bull's-eye. And it seemed to +Mrs. Yellam a very fitting and proper thing that on Sunday the flesh +should be as adequately nourished as the spirit. Invariably, also, on +passing the baker's, she experienced a mournful pleasure in recalling +her late husband's remarkable appetite. Alfred, as a trencherman, was no +degenerate son of such a sire. + +When she reached the bend of the road, which skirts the placid Avon, she +saw her cottage and smiled pleasantly. It was thatched, and on that +account beloved by elderly spinsters who drew in water-colour, and +frowned upon by sanitary inspectors. The thatch, a masterpiece of +craftsmanship, surmounted whitewashed walls held together by stout oak +beams black as the Ace of Spades. Generations of Yellams had lived and +died in this cottage. Some might have lived longer--so said the sanitary +inspectors--if the Avon, inconsiderate stream, had never overflowed its +banks, making thereby an island of the cottage and its garden. + +She entered her house, and walked into the parlour, rarely used. Upon a +round table near the window was an immense family Bible. Mrs. Yellam +placed her prayer-book beside it, and turned to go into the kitchen, +which served as a living-room for herself and her son. Suddenly she +paused, went back to the table, and opened the Bible. It had belonged to +Alfred's great-grandfather. Upon a fly-leaf were many names and +dates--births, marriages and deaths. Her eyes lingered upon Alfred's +name. + +Alfred Habakkuk Yellam, born November 19th, 1883. + +Alfred's father had objected to the name Habakkuk. But Alfred's mother +had her way. A favourite brother had been so christened. + +She closed the Book. Yes; it was fully time that Alfred should marry. +She wondered what name would be inscribed beside his. + +At the kitchen door she found waiting a small Hebe carrying a beef-steak +pudding in a basin done up in a white napkin. Mrs. Yellam took the +pudding from the child, placed it in the oven, after removing the +napkin, and said wonderingly: + +"Whatever be you waiting for?" + +Hebe grinned. Young children love old jokes. Mrs. Yellam took from a +shelf a large green bottle, shook it, and produced the expected +bull's-eye. Hebe opened wide her mouth. Mrs. Yellam popped in the sweet. +Hebe raced away to her own dinner. Mrs. Yellam, holding the bottle in +her hand, stood still for a minute, watching the diminutive, diminishing +figure till it was lost to sight. Then she turned and contemplated her +garden smiling beneath a June sun. The midsummer heat still held +deliciously the freshness of spring. The pervasive charm of the glorious +month was at its highest pitch. And this stout, red-cheeked woman, +nearing her sixtieth year, was subtly conscious of this, although +incapable of putting thoughts into words. But dominating her sense of +the beauty of things there remained an even more immeasurable +satisfaction common to all women when they survey their belongings, +great or small, a fundamental pride in possession which Tory statesmen, +denying the vote to these supermen, have failed to take into wise +account. Women are basically conservative, even the humblest of them. +They cling to property, to tradition; they love the deep lanes, the very +ruts along which they move; they clutch to their bosoms all that is +truly theirs, beginning, of course, with their own children. + +At this moment, the Squire of the parish, Sir Geoffrey Pomfret, happened +to be surveying his domain as seen from his own front door. And he had +less reason behind a pride in great possession than Susan Yellam, +inasmuch as his broad acres were an inheritance. Every vegetable and +flower in the Yellam garden had been planted and tended by the +proprietress. They were perfect in her eyes because of this. She had +precisely the same feeling about Alfred, her son, whom she perceived +leisurely approaching the comfortable home that she had made for him. + +She went indoors and busied herself with preparations for the most +substantial meal of the week. + +Alfred quickened his pace as he approached the small stable which held +his two serviceable horses and the van which plied regularly between +Nether-Applewhite and Old Sarum. He, too, on entering the stable, paused +to survey his possessions, but not with the same complacency which might +have been seen upon his mother's face. Alfred loved his horses, and his +roomy van balked dearer to him than he would have cared to admit, +certainly as dear as the full-length Reynolds portrait in the +dining-room of Pomfret Court was to the Squire. Both Sir Geoffrey and he +knew that portrait and van must be sacrificed upon the altar of +necessity. Sir Geoffrey needed twenty thousand pounds to reduce a +crippling mortgage; Alfred, if he intended to keep and improve a good +business, must advance with the times to the rattle of a motor. And, of +late, whenever his mind had grappled with this insistent problem, he had +noticed that the old van creaked more than usual, as if in protest. + +Alfred fed his horses, patted their shining necks, and went into the +cottage to "clean up." Splashing mightily, he smelt the beef-and-kidney +pudding. Five minutes afterwards, Mrs. Yellam said grace. Mother and son +ate in silence till the meal was nearly over. Then Mrs. Yellam asked a +question: + +"What be the name, Alferd, o' the new maid over to Vicarage?" + +"Fancy Broomfield." + +"Fancy! Wherever did she come by such a finical name as that?" + +"I don't know, Mother." + +Mrs. Yellam continued, in a slightly aggressive tone: + +"I never was one to hold with queer onChristian names. It's silly, too, +to call girls by names o' flowers. Look at Lily Pavey!" + +"I never do," affirmed Alfred. + +"Dark-complected, and no better than she should be. An' that there Rose +Mucklow--! More like a gert carrot, seemin'ly." + +Alfred, having enjoyed "advantages," did not use the dialect of +Wiltshire, seldom heard now except from the elderly villagers. As became +a carrier accustomed to pick his way through country lanes, he seldom +argued with his mother, partly because he knew that her tongue was +sharper than his, partly, also, because he travelled, mentally, along +lines of less resistance. On this occasion, he said curtly: + +"I like Fancy." + +"The name or the maid?" asked his mother quickly. + +"Both. The name seems to match the maid." + +"Why, Alferd, whatever do 'ee know about her?" + +"I brought her from Salisbury. A rare talker; she sat beside me, she +did, and talked free and pleasant, as--as a throstle sings." + +His mother eyed him sharply. Alfred, as a rule, disdained flowers of +speech. She proceeded more warily: + +"If so be as you know all about her, let's hear what's to tell. I'll say +this, she behaves herself in church." + +This commendation loosened Alfred's tongue, as was intended. Very +leisurely, between immense mouthfuls of bread and cheese, he told an +artless tale. Fancy, it appeared, was the youngest daughter of a small +farrier in Salisbury, and the first of three daughters to take service. +Her father enjoyed poor health. At this Mrs. Yellam sniffed. She held +strong opinions, like the Squire, upon eugenics. If put to it, she might +have admitted that ill-health was apportioned by Providence to the less +deserving. Dissenters, in her experience, suffered more from mysterious +ailments than Church-people. Draughty, jerry-built Chapels were +handicraft of Satan. Alfred continued. Fancy had chosen a country place, +because she was none too robust. + +"Peaky and spindlin'," remarked Mrs. Yellam. "Is her mother alive?" + +"The pore soul gave up the ghost when Fancy was born." + +"That's very bad, Alferd." + +Alfred, no pessimist, answered cheerfully: + +"Might have been worse, Mother." + +"Eh?" + +Alfred grinned. + +"She might have died before Fancy was born, and then there'd be one +pretty maid the less in Nether-Applewhite to-day." + +"Gracious! She do seem to find favour with 'ee. 'Tis wicked to wager +money on't, but I'll lay a pound o' good butter, Alferd, that you +disremember Mr. Hamlin's text this marning." + +"You'd win that bet, Mother. I'm bothered and moithered to death." + +"About this white-faced maid, Alferd?" + +"About my old van. About the horses, too. I'm far-seeing, Mother. Get +that from you, I reckon. Yesterday, in Salisbury, I did take upon myself +the very hateful job of looking at a motor-'bus." + +Mrs. Yellam sighed. Fancy flew out of her capacious mind. + +"What be us coming to, Alferd!" + +"I don't know. But I'm always one to make a guess. My son, maybe, 'll be +a carrier, like his father and granfer before him; likely as not he'll +want to sell the motor-'bus and buy a flying-machine. We all march on +and on." + +"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" + +Mrs. Yellam gazed mournfully at her son. As a Christian soldier she +believed devoutly in "marching on," but such marching implied a +leisurely procession, not excess speed. She hated motors, because they +rushed by, covering the foot-passengers with dust or mud according to +the season. She had, too, an inchoate aversion to all machinery, because +it minimised and mocked at human labour, which she respected +inordinately. Machinery had driven able-bodied men overseas to return no +more. She had seen certain cunning handicrafts wither and die. For +instance, how many thatchers were left? Machinery, so she believed, had +raised the cost of living; machinery--the ubiquitous locomotive--linked +together disastrously town and country, filling the minds of maids with +what she called "flummery" and covering their bodies with cheap finery. +Machinery, had you probed her heart to its depths, manufactured free +thought, and everything else that lured God-fearing persons from the old +ways. It was, indeed, hateful to think of her Alfred driving a +motor-'bus. + +She exclaimed impulsively: + +"Alferd, don't 'ee sell the horses and van." + +Alfred scratched his head, looking sheepishly at his mother. He +understood her very well, and shared most of her cut-and-dried opinions, +cherishing even her admonitions. All his life he had had good reason to +respect and admire her sterling common sense, less rare amongst +Arcadians than is generally supposed. He replied uneasily: + +"That means losing good business, Mother. Folks want more and more +nowadays, and they want it in a hurry." + +"Leave well alone, Alferd." + +"Suppose well can't be left alone? I ain't one to complain; I'm grateful +to the Lord for His blessings, but if another likely young feller +started a motor-'bus, he'd down-scramble me." + +"I allow you knows best about that." + +She sighed again. He could see that she was profoundly affected. He went +on very slowly, thinking as he spoke: + +"And there's others.... You rub it well into me that this cottage'd hold +more than a man and his mother. If I bring the others here, I must think +of them. I'd like to do handsomely by them as come after us. Mother," +his voice trembled a little, "it's more to me than you think for, but +the old van must go. Our folk won't stay homealong. I'll do a big +business carrying people instead of parcels." + +Mrs. Yellam rose. + +"If you give me they others, Alferd, I'll put up with this wondersome +change. God's ways be our ways, if we look humbly into 'em. I did hear +tell t'other day of a motor-hearse. Don't 'ee carry me to my grave in +one!" + +Alfred solemnly reassured her, and began to fill his pipe. + +As a rule, he took a Sunday nap after dinner, whilst his mother was +washing up. At three, he would stroll along the village street, +combining business with pleasure, picking up gossip and booking orders +for the coming week. Later, he might walk in the park with a companion, +not always of the opposite sex. He liked a wit-sharpening talk with a +man, sensible, perhaps, that his own wits had not too sharp an edge to +them. The women of the village were unanimous in pronouncing him a true +Yellam. All the men of his family were good to look on--stoutly-built +fellows, broad-sterned and broad-shouldered, slow of speech and +movement, slow, too, to wrath, patient under adversity and modest under +prosperity, solid and stolid, kind to animals and children, and racy of +the soil. + +Upon this particular Sunday, Alfred took the high-road earlier than +usual. Fate, rather than inclination, directed his steps towards the +Vicarage. For the moment his van and a pair of horses filled his mind. +Back of these lay a pleasant wish to pass the time of day with Fancy +Broomfield. No doubt she was feeling very homesick. He wondered what she +would have to say upon the subject of motor-'buses. He divined in her a +vein of sentiment, which appealed to him the more strongly because it +was absent in the red-cheeked, bouncing girl whom he had considered, +temporarily, as a future wife. From her he had escaped--thank the Lord! + +Alfred reached the village in five minutes. It was a source of pride to +his mother and himself that their cottage was isolated. Such isolation +carried with it a certain distinction, an immunity from derisive comment +upon the Monday's washing, and the shrill voices of scolding wives, and +the howling of babies. The Yellams' cottage always smelled sweet. There +were no neighbours to pop in at unseasonable hours to borrow +unconsidered trifles which they had no intention of returning. + +Nether-Applewhite was regarded by the Squire as a model village, +delightfully old-fashioned in appearance but brought up-to-date by a +judicious expenditure of time and money. The passing traveller admired +the width of the main street which meandered north and south, following +the course of the Avon. Some of the cottages had been built in the +sixteenth century, or, possibly, at an even earlier date. Some were, as +obviously, modern, but not, on that account, unpleasing to the more +critical, for harmony had been aimed at and achieved. The high note--_la +note qui chante_--was the curious thatching of the roofs, some of them +miracles of cunning craftsmanship. The tiny gardens blazed with colour, +because the lady of the manor loved flowers and bestowed handsome +prizes, each year, upon the most successful of many competitors. Stocks, +red-hot-pokers, larkspur, polyanthus, peonies and dahlias caught the eye +which was lured back to the humbler beauties of mignonette, +forget-me-not, love-in-idleness, and a generous profusion of roses. + +Few villagers were abroad, but Alfred Yellam bagged a brace of orders +and exchanged banter with half-a-dozen young men loafing near the main +bridge across the Avon. Amongst these happened to be a soldier, looking +very smart in a kilt and white spats. Soldiers were not too highly +esteemed in Nether-Applewhite. This particular specimen was the son of a +notorious poacher, and till now regarded by the fathers of the hamlet as +a ne'er-do-well. To-day, he carried himself handsomely, turning a bold, +bronzed face upon all beholders. He spoke civilly to Alfred and enquired +after his mother. He had just come back from India with his regiment, +and was entertaining an appreciative audience with Eastern tales spiced +like the breezes that blow from Ceylon. + +Alfred listened to him, marvelling at the change in the man. Presently, +he essayed a mild jest: + +"You were a rare runner after the petticoats, Harry, but I never thought +you'd live to wear 'em." + +Bucolic laughter greeted this sally. Harry laughed as gaily as the +others. + +"You may come to it, Alfred Yellam, if what I hear tell of comes true." + +"And whatever might that be, Harry?" + +"War, Alfred, war such as you fellers never dreamed of." + +"What a tale!" + +Harry surveyed the group critically: + +"A bit o' drill'd make men o' some of 'ee." He broke into a lusty +barrack-room ditty-- + + "It's One--Two--ten times a day, + And now that you 'ave got it, + Don't yer give it away--! + ONE--TWO--ten times a day, + When I was in the timid, orkard squad, boys." + +Alfred said solemnly: + +"I ain't one to deny that wars may come. And you were always a good +fighter, Harry, but we are men o' peace." + +"Ay," said one of the group, "I never did fancy soldierin'." + +Alfred said slily: + +"William ain't yet forgiven a Hampshire redcoat who walked out and off, +by Golly! with his girl." + +Having fired this shot, Alfred walked on. In his mind he turned over the +thought of war, such a war as he, indeed, had never dreamed of in +maddest nightmare. And the words and tune of the barrack-room ditty +echoed through the cells of his brain. He wondered vaguely whether he +could stick such dire discipline--ten times a day. Wouldn't he up and +smite the sergeant to mother earth with his big fists, which clenched +themselves at the mere thought of such a treadmill? Then he reflected +comfortably that England's fleet sailed gloriously between him and such +a possibility. The Squire belonged to the blue-water school. So did the +Parson. Alfred muttered to himself: + +"They talk that way because they know no better, pore souls!" + +A carrier had other things to worry about. + +Approaching the Vicarage by the back way, he heard a woman's voice. He +stood still. Tender modulations fluttered, like doves of peace, out of +the pantry window. Alfred smiled. + +"'Tis she, the pretty dear! Talks and sings just like a throstle." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +FANCY BROOMFIELD + + +Fancy Broomfield left Salisbury for Nether-Applewhite with a heavy heart +not hidden by a pathetic smile. Possibly Alfred Yellam had a glimpse of +unshed tears, when she took her place beside him in his van. And his +ears may have caught a poignant note of distress quavering now and again +beneath her prattle. Country folk are observant, although they keep +their observations to themselves. Fancy had been happy at home. When she +took a place in Salisbury, in the time-honoured Cathedral Close, she saw +her people frequently. As she moved farther from Salisbury, she was +grievously conscious of what separation from her father included. The +fact that he was failing in health, and therefore in fortune, punctuated +her misgivings. Alfred won her confidence with a few curt words about +her new place and its master. He did not mention her bouncing +predecessor, but he talked of the Parson and his household with the +incisive tones of one who knew. What he said was reassuring. Most +maidservants approach a new place with justifiable apprehensions +concerning the mistress. In this case there was no mistress. Possibly +disagreeable fellow-servants may arouse even livelier forebodings. A +cook, for example, holds the keys of Heaven and Hell in her hands. Fancy +had envisaged an immense cook with a great red face, and a liver swollen +to atrabiliar disproportions. She was pleased to learn that the autocrat +of the Parson's kitchen was not much larger than herself and +consistently amiable. + +"Parson preaches against sour faces," said Alfred. "No yapping and +snarling in his house. From your looks, you ain't one to come +slummicking in after hours with a silly tale about being took all over +queer when out walking." + +"My! no," affirmed Fancy. + +Alfred digested this in silence. Fancy had already told him much about +her family, but she had not mentioned others. Presently, Alfred said +abruptly: + +"Have you got a young man in Salisbury?" + +Fancy laughed for the first time, a silvery trickle of laughter. + +"Why should you think I have, Mr. Yellam?" + +"It seems to me likely." + +"Well, I am fond of one boy. He's too sweet for anything." + +"Is he?" + +"Yes, I'd like you to meet him. Maybe I'll show you his photograph one +fine day. It's in my trunk. He's a sailor-boy, and at sea." + +"Ah. At sea, is he? My mother says that a woman is silly to marry a +sailor. Why? Because, if you love him, he is always at sea, and if you +hate him, he bides at home." + +Fancy laughed again. + +"Then my boy, after he marries, will be always at sea. How miserable for +his wife!" + +"It is a fair warning." + +"For me, Mr. Yellam?" + +"I mean, if you marry your sailor-boy." + +"But I can't marry my own dear brother." + +And then Alfred laughed, Homerically. + +Soon afterwards, he left her and a modest box at the Vicarage. She +thanked him demurely, asking how much she owed him. Alfred was tempted +to demand a kiss in payment, but a glance at a virginal face restrained +him. He said, "One shilling, please, miss," and she slipped the coin +into his ample palm, adding: "It's a new one. That brings luck, don't +it?" Alfred indulged in no speculations on this point, but when he found +himself alone, he examined the loose change in his pocket, and picking +out a new shilling, transferred it to another pocket, wondering +furtively if he were making a fool of himself. He whistled gaily as he +drove on. + +Fancy was shown to a small room, which pleased her immensely, because no +other maid shared it with her. From a casemented window, she could see +the park of Pomfret Court, with its clumps of fine trees and its herds +of dappled deer. She felt that she would be happy in such a quiet place. +The room was very simply but comfortably furnished, spotlessly clean and +fresh. She admired the wall-paper, white with small sprigs of pink roses +on it. What a lucky girl to have such a nice room! And, approaching the +Vicarage, she had fallen in love with the many-gabled house standing +amongst beeches, a warm-looking house of time-mellowed brick, built +substantially, happily situated below the church and just above the +village. As she was unpacking, the house-maid, Molly, brought her a cup +of tea. Being her first day, Fancy was not expected to wait at dinner, +but Molly told her that after dinner she would be sent for, and that she +might expect a five-minute chat with her master. + +"Is he masterful?" she asked. + +Molly nodded, adding confidentially: + +"Such a pair of eyes as never was. Gimlets! It ain't no fun lying to +him, and no use either. He can look bang through a pore girl, and tell +her what she's had for dinner." + +"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Fancy. + +"Don't you worry! 'Tis an easy place. No SHE poking and prying about. +Only we have to be good girls here, and then we're happy." + +"I do hope I shall be happy," said Fancy, adding hastily, "I look such a +fright when I ain't." + +After dinner she was duly sent for, and found the Parson walking up and +down his study. He regarded her austerely, bidding her welcome to his +house. Fancy noticed at once the keenness of his glance, and the still +more penetrating quality of his voice. First impressions count +enormously with sensitive creatures, and young women in Fancy's station +of life are not much concerned with shades and gradations. To most of +them men are angels or devils, black or white. Fancy had encountered +what she called "devils" in Salisbury, rough fellows with Rabelaisian +jests upon their thick lips. From such she shrank instinctively. Happily +for her, she had met the other sort in and out of the Cathedral Close. +Instantly, she acclaimed Mr. Hamlin as angel, a rather terrible angel, +such as she imagined Saint Michael to be, pitiless to the wicked, +smiting them hip and thigh with a flaming sword. Her second impression, +not quite so vivid, was more agreeable. The Parson's clothes were +shabby, and his study, which, indeed, reflected truthfully the man's +personality, presented a somewhat bleak aspect. It looked a workshop +rather than a comfortable room. The cocoanut matting was worn; plain +deal shelves held innumerable cheaply-bound books; pamphlets were piled +upon the floor; the chairs, with one exception, were not upholstered. +She blushed a little as the thought came to her that she, the new +parlourmaid, not yet in working kit, was the smartest object in her +master's room. + +Mr. Hamlin asked her a few questions. Fancy had good references; she was +a Churchwoman; she had been confirmed by Sarum himself. She belonged to +the Girls' Friendly Society. Did she like her work? Yes. Mr. Hamlin +smiled. For a moment Saint Michael vanished and a less terrifying +personage stood in his place. + +"I like _my_ work," said the Parson incisively. "That is a vital matter. +Perhaps it is the most vital matter in the world. Each of us has his or +her work, and if we do it gladly it is well with us. You don't look very +strong." + +"I'm much stronger than I look, sir." + +Her soft, deprecating voice brought another smile to the Parson's lips. +He said abruptly: + +"Good. Women need all their strength and reserves of strength. Your work +here will not be too hard. Spare yourself whenever you reasonably can, +and so you will serve me and yourself the better. Good-night." + +Fancy went away, slightly awed, but feeling much more comfortable. +Before going to bed, she wrote a short letter to her father, telling him +that she liked her place. She added a postscript: "Mr. Yellam, the +carrier, was ever so kind to me." + +She slept well in a comfortable bed. + +She came to Nether-Applewhite on a Thursday. On the following Sunday, as +Alfred Yellam had foreseen, she was feeling homesick, because she had +never failed to see her own people on that day. After luncheon, to +hearten herself up, she sang hymns in the pantry. + +Her face brightened, when she perceived Alfred at the door of the +pantry. After asking her how she fared, and learning that the other +maids were "out," he said, in business-like tones: + +"Any orders for the carrier?" + +Fancy smiled demurely. She was alone in the house. The Parson had a +Children's Service at three. She guessed that, as a rule, carriers did +not call for orders at such an hour. + +"Not as I know of, Mr. Yellam. Do you generally call for orders on +Sunday afternoon?" + +By this time she had been informed of Alfred's perambulations with her +predecessor. It might be an honoured custom in Nether-Applewhite for the +carrier to walk out with the Vicarage parlourmaid. Alfred gave a guffaw. + +"Well, no; I took a notion to drop in, casual-like, to pass the time of +day." + +"What would the Vicar say to that?" + +"Parson ain't the fearsome man you take him to be. A very human +gentleman, always welcome in our house. And I make bold to tell you that +I'm heartily welcome in his." + +"If that is so," said Fancy, politely, "won't you sit down, Mr. Yellam?" + +She indicated a chair into which Alfred bumped massively, with the air +of one not to be budged from an impregnable position. Fancy was getting +ready some dainty tea-things. + +"Expecting company, miss?" + +"Yes. Mr. Lionel Pomfret and Mrs. Pomfret. A nice tea. Master's orders." + +Alfred nodded. He eyed Fancy with ever-increasing approval. A black +gown, with snowy apron, bib, and cap, became her admirably. Beneath the +cap her soft brown hair lay in shining ripples; the bib lent extra +fulness to a too thin bosom; her big hazel eyes sparkled with animation; +her pale cheeks had a tinge of pink in them. Alfred contrasted her +delicate features with the exuberant comeliness of the late parlourmaid. +Charm was not a word very distinctly defined in his vocabulary. But he +became conscious of Fancy's charm, although he would have called it by +another name. Certainly she was sweetly pretty, like a rose-leaf which a +rough wind might blow away. More than aught else, too, he was struck by +her little hands, which moved deftly and swiftly. He made sure that she +was a good needlewoman. Such hands could make light pastry. All this +pleased him tremendously. Fancy prattled on about the company expected, +telling Alfred what he knew already, but he listened in silence, +captivated by her voice. She cut dexterously some thin slices of brown +bread-and-butter, as she spoke of the love-match between Squire's son +and Parson's daughter. + +"I am looking forward to waiting on them," she declared. + +"Yes--a very handsome, notable couple. Squire'll be a granfer before he +knows where he is." + +"What things you do say, Mr. Yellam!" + +"Ah-h-h! In my common way, I say what I think, never meaning offence, +particularly to young maids, but 'tis a fact Sir Geoffrey is fair aching +for grandchildren, the more the merrier. 'Twould be terrible if his +house and lands passed to some measly next-of-kin. But we won't think of +that." + +"No. Not yet, at any rate." + +Alfred felt reproved but not disconcerted. It might be politic to change +the talk to motor-'buses, so he said abruptly: + +"I'm in a fair sweat, Miss Fancy." + +"Mercy me! Shall I fetch you a glass of water?" + +"Figure of speech, miss. It's like this, if you'll excuse me talking of +my own affairs." + +"Why, I like that. It's so--so friendly of you, Mr. Yellam." + +"I'm standing betwixt the devil and the deep sea." + +"Well, I never!" + +He gazed so earnestly at Fancy that she wondered if she were the deep +sea, and that the devil was an allusion to the late parlourmaid. Alfred +continued: + +"The world, miss, goes round and round for true lovers, but it don't +stand still for anybody, leastways not for carriers. We must push along +with the times, eh?" + +He glanced at her anxiously. She was quick to perceive that he wanted +counsel and much flattered thereby. She eyed him as keenly as he, just +now, had eyed her. Being so frail and attenuated herself, his massive +form and square head attracted her strangely. She admired his big chin +and too heavy nose. And her eyes lingered with appreciation upon the +bulging biceps and deltoids shewing strongly beneath his thin summer +jacket. What a sad pity that her dear father had not been cast in such a +mould! To his anxious question, she replied with a little bob of her +head. + +"My father and granfer were carriers before me. Van and horses was good +enough for them. And good enough for me, too. It tears me to scrap 'em." + +"Scrap them?" + +"Ay. When you go back home, how'd it suit you to ride in a motor-'bus?" + +"It would be grand," said Fancy. + +Alfred rubbed his hands; his red face beamed. + +"Dang me, if that don't put the lid on it." + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Yellam?" + +"I was half hoping you'd say what you did. Yes--it would be grand. A +nice 'bus--red and yaller--'d make the neighbours yap a bit. Do you know +what they call my old van?" + +"It's a nice comfortable van." + +"So 'tis. But would-be funny folks call it 'Flash o' Lightnin'.'" + +Fancy laughed. Alfred decided that it was a treat to hear her laugh. + +"Are you angry with me for laughing?" + +"Lord--no! A laugh like yours warms the cockles of my heart. Laugh away, +miss. All the same, there's a meaning in what neighbours say. I do move +slow, when I've a load. And in winter-time, when roads are heavy, I just +crawl along. You're right. A motor-'bus _is_ grand. And I can pay cash +for one, I can." + +He spoke with pride, opening his large hands. Fancy, having finished +cutting the bread-and-butter, sat down opposite to Alfred. With some +difficulty he mastered the impulse to invite this bird-like creature to +perch on his knee. Her air of aloofness both pleased and exasperated +him. She sat very still, with her hands folded upon her lap, just as +good girls sat in church. Alfred talked with gusto about motor-'buses. + +"Can you drive a motor?" asked Fancy, when he paused to mop his forehead +with a huge red bandana. + +"No, miss. But if I say it as shouldn't, I can do most anything when I +try. They'll teach me in Salisbury--free, gratis and for nothing, if I +buy the 'bus." + +"I do hope you'll be careful, Mr. Yellam." + +Alfred was delighted at this mark of solicitude. For the moment nothing +more was to be said. He searched his mind for another suitable topic of +conversation. Already he had decided to ask Fancy to walk out with him, +but he feared a rebuff. It was "up" to him to shew her his paces. Any +premature love-making might be disastrous. Nevertheless, it behoved him +to waste no time in making himself agreeable. Half-a-dozen likely young +fellows would be fluttering about Fancy before the week was out. First +come, first served. He essayed a fresh flight: + +"Coming through village, miss, I met a soldier--'No Account Harry' we +used to call him. Back from the Indies, and spruced up wonderful." + +Fancy exhibited lively interest. + +"A soldier, Mr. Yellam! I do like soldiers, because--because----" Her +voice melted on a silence; her cheeks shewed a deeper pink. + +"Do tell, miss. Why do you like--soldiers?" + +"You'll think me such a silly." + +"Not me. I'm no mumbudgetter. What you tell me I'll keep to myself." + +Her eyes dwelt steadily on his. In a lower voice, she asked: + +"Do you believe in fortune-telling, Mr. Yellam?" + +"I don't know as I do. But I don't know as I don't." + +"I do. And--maybe the Vicar wouldn't like this--I can tell fortunes +myself with cards." + +"Well, I never!" + +"Yes. About three months ago, a lady came to Salisbury and lodged near +us. She told fortunes with cards; she taught me. She didn't do it for +money. Now, if you laugh, I'll never forgive you...." + +Alfred became portentously solemn. + +"The lady told me that I should marry a soldier." + +Alfred looked perturbed, but his shrewd sense sustained him. + +"Did she? Likely as not she'd seen you walking out with one." + +"I have never walked out with a soldier." + +Alfred looked unhappy. He thought of the well-set-up Highlander. He +beheld Fancy hanging on his arm, gazing upward into a bronzed, +devil-may-care face, listening to strange tales of the Orient. Jealousy +ravaged him. His dejection deepened when he discovered that his tongue +had lost the trick of speech. He yearned to speak lightly and +facetiously about soldiers. But he could think of nothing better than +this: + +"Soldiers are soldiers." + +Fancy read him easily. Her father distrusted soldiers, who loved and ran +away. He had warned her against their beguilements. But Fancy had read +English history, more intelligently than most girls of similar +upbringing. She knew what soldiers had done for England. Also, she had +eye for a bit of colour. Soldiers appealed to her imagination. She put +sailors first, the jolly tars. Tommy came next, with his swagger cane, +his jaunty walk, and his cap cocked on one side, shewing a "quiff" +beneath. + +"Why do men, like you, Mr. Yellam, despise soldiers?" + +Alfred wriggled, impaled upon this barbed hook. He had wit enough to +realise that serious issues impended. He might easily offend Fancy. And +no answer rose pat to his tongue. Why did he despise soldiers? He was +too honest to deny the indictment. Yes; he did despise soldiers. He +answered stolidly: + +"There are soldiers and soldiers. 'Tis sober truth, miss, that the best +men in these parts don't enlist. The pay is bad, and the work hard. The +wrong 'uns take the shilling only when they're driven to it. It may be +different in Salisbury." + +"I don't know that it is. I can understand why men like you, Mr. Yellam, +don't enlist. Why should you? But that doesn't change my feelings about +soldiers. Whatever they may have been, whatever they are, I think of +this: At any moment, with their hard work, with their poor pay, they may +be called upon to give their lives for--us." + +Her soft voice faltered. Perhaps Alfred was already in love. He may have +been. When her voice failed, and he beheld her for the first time as a +woman of sensibilities, tender for others, pleading for the less +fortunate, all that was best in him leaped into being. Nothing but his +disability to find words for his thoughts prevented him from avowing his +feelings. He realised instantly that here sat the girl for him, the wife +he wanted. His experiments in courtship, if you could term it that, +confirmed his conviction that he had remained single so long simply +because Fancy was waiting for him. She was absolutely right because the +others had been as absolutely wrong. + +"That's true," he heard himself saying. + +Fancy went on in a livelier tone: + +"Have you read Kipling, Mr. Yellam?" + +"I seem to have heard tell of Mr. Rudyard Kipling in the newspapers." + +"I want to tell you what he said about soldiers." + +She quoted slowly: + + "It's Tommy this, and Tommy that, and Tommy--go away! + But it's--Thank you, Mr. Atkins, when the band begins to play." + +Alfred was visibly impressed. He recalled the Highlander's words about +war, such a war as he had never dreamed of. What if the band did begin +to play? More, it surprised him that Fancy should quote Kipling. +Obviously, she had enjoyed educational advantages denied to him. She +spoke like the quality. He began to measure the distance between them, +conscious of shrinkage in himself. To gain time he repeated her last +words: + +"When the band begins to play! 'No Account Harry' spoke of that, yes, he +did. But war is for kings and potentates, not for us. As I came along +river, I says to myself: 'We have peace here, glory be to our noble +Fleet!' It gives me a mort of comfort thinking of our mighty ships. And +I remember what Parson said not so long ago. 'You working-men,' he says, +'are the backbone of England.' And, by Golly! I stiffened myself +accordingly." + +Fancy smiled, and said no more. She glanced at the pantry clock. Alfred +rose. His face was redder than usual, as he held out his hand. It +consoled him mightily to reflect that "No Account Harry," by virtue or +vice of an unsavoury record, would hardly dare to stick his tip-tilted +nose into the Vicarage. + +"So long, Miss Fancy. Would it be called presumption, if I made so bold +as to ask you to take the air with me next Sunday? 'Tis wonderful pretty +in the Park, and I'd like to shew you the fat bullocks." + +Fancy blushed, for he was squeezing her small hand. + +"I should like it very much," she replied simply. + +Alfred asked for no more, wise man! He had squeezed her hand, and she +had not resented it, although her slim fingers lay calm and cool within +his ardent clasp. She accompanied him to the back door. In the lapel of +his jacket Alfred sported one of his mother's roses. He presented it to +Fancy in silence--and fled. As he passed into the park, intending to map +out a pilgrimage for the following Sunday, he thought complacently: + +"I'm a forcible man. Neighbours say that, and 'tis so. She's a dinky +maid, bless her!" + +With eager strides he mounted the gentle slope of the long escarpment +between Pomfret Vicarage and Pomfret Court, keeping to the right of the +main drive. The path he followed meandered through a plantation. +Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of a pair of lovers strolling arm in +crook, with love in their eyes and laughter on their lips. He recognised +Lionel Pomfret and his bride. Alfred plunged into the hazels and let +them pass. When the coast was clear he took the path again, skirting the +Court and the Home Farm, and, ultimately, debouching upon the downs. +Warmed by his walk, he removed his hat and fanned himself with it. Then +he sat down and let his eyes wander across the landscape. + +How fair it was upon that midsummer's afternoon! + +A soft haze slightly obscured the water meadows. Through it he could see +the Avon, a silvery riband. In the far distance the finest spire in the +world soared into palely blue skies. The breeze from the land had died +down. Presently the breeze from the sea would stir, tremulously, the +grasses at his feet. Sheep were grazing hard by. Some of them rested in +the shade of the yews which fringed the top of the down. Immediately +below him stretched the park. Under the clumps of beeches stood the +fallow deer. Beyond were the lawns of Pomfret Court, flanked by ancient +elms and oaks and horse-chestnuts. Between the masses of translucent +foliage, the façade of the house glowed faintly red as if the sunbeams +penetrating the bricks during nearly four hundred years were now +radiating from them. + +All this to Alfred--and to how many others--was the outward and visible +sign of peace, a peace sanctified by time and the labour of countless +hands. That such a peace could be imperilled passed the understanding of +wiser men than the carrier. Surely it would endure till the end, till +eternity. + +For ever and ever--Amen! + + + + +CHAPTER III + +INTRODUCING MRS. MUCKLOW + + +Susan Yellam rarely left her cottage, and, during week-days, was not too +cordial to chance visitors. On Sunday afternoon, however, she was at +home to friends, and hospitably glad to offer them the best cup of tea +in Nether-Applewhite, and some hot buttered toast which waited for +nobody. If a too nice stomach disdained buttered toast, the pangs of +hunger could be alleviated with bread and honey (from the hives in the +garden) or bread and jam (of Mrs. Yellam's own making). A rich cake was +in cut. + +Mrs. Yellam had been a Mucklow. And her favourite brother, Habakkuk, had +married a Rockley--all of Nether-Applewhite. Mrs. Mucklow generally +dropped in on Sunday afternoons, bringing a grievance with her. The +Mucklows had not prospered like the Yellams and Rockleys. And this was +the more remarkable because the Mucklow men were fine upstanding +fellows, reasonably sober, and God-fearing Churchgoers. The ancients of +the village affirmed that the brains of the family had been served out +in one lump, and given to Susan Yellam. + +Upon the Sunday following Alfred's visit to the Vicarage, Mrs. Mucklow, +wearing black silk and a bonnet, dropped into the cottage. She was +taller than her sister-in-law, and very thin. Invariably she disagreed +with everything said by Mrs. Yellam, and yet, oddly enough, the two +women remained friends, partly because Susan believed devoutly in the +ties of blood, and partly because Jane's rather fatuous contradictions +shed searchlights upon Susan's commonsense. Wisdom is comfortably +bolstered by the folly of others. + +"Well, Jane, how be you?" + +Mrs. Mucklow answered dolorously: + +"I be no better than I was las' Sunday." + +"That's bad." + +"No, it ain't. I expected to be worse. Very soon I shall be lying along +o' Mother. She suffered wi' her innards, pore soul, just as I do." + +"She got comfort out of it, too, just as you do, dear. Sit you down, and +let's hear the news." + +Jane Mucklow sighed, and sat down. Unlike her sister-in-law, she strayed +daily into the cottages of her neighbours, picking up gossip, and +repeating it with embellishments of her own. As she removed white cotton +gloves, she said sharply: + +"I want your news first, Susan." + +"But I haven't any, Jane; nothing, that is to say, which you don't well +know already." + +"Maybe. But I wanted it from your own lips." + +"Bless the woman! Whatever do 'ee want?" + +"What you prides yourself on giving--information. Don't sit there so +genteel, and pretend to me that you don't know what your Alferd be up to +this very minute!" + +"I don't--and nor do you." + +"Yas, I do. Your Alferd was over to Vicarage las' Sunday. To-day, he's +traipsin' the Park with Miss Fancy Broomfield." + +From her pronunciation of the name, it was quite evident that the young +person in question was not what diplomats call _gratissima_ to Mrs. +Mucklow. And the sniff that followed was aggressive. Mrs. Yellam poured +out a large cup of tea with an impassive face. Inwardly, she winced. +Alfred had kept his plans to himself, doing so, moreover, in accordance +with advice well rubbed into him ever since he had affairs of his own to +attend to. But a mother--and such a mother--might be deemed an exception +to a golden rule. Mrs. Yellam said calmly: + +"Is he? Who is your Rose walking out wi'?" + +The question was ungrammatical and unkind. Rose, large, plain, and +red-headed, sighed for swains who did not walk out with her. She might +have been comfortably married to Alfred at this minute. The older +families in Nether-Applewhite fancied intermarriage, much to the +exasperation of Sir George Pomfret. And so far--the stock being +exceptionally sound--no great evil had come of this. Within the year +Prudence Rockley had married her first cousin. In Mrs. Mucklow's opinion +marriages between near of kin were preferable to alliances with +outsiders. Town girls, she regarded, not without reason, as hussies. + +"My Rose be a good girl, and well you knows it." + +"Maybe you have something agen this Fancy Broomfield? If so, Jane, out +wi' it." + +"Townbred girls be all alike." + +Mrs. Yellam replied tranquilly: + +"I bain't an upholder o' they, but I keep faith in my Alferd's good +sense and judgment. He's walked out wi' a baker's dozen o' maids afore +this 'un, and why not? I've allers told Alferd to pick an' choose." + +Mrs. Mucklow attacked the buttered toast almost viciously. + +"'Tis true, I suppose, that his father's van ain't good enough for +_your_ son?" + +Inwardly Mrs. Yellam winced again. Alfred had made his decision "on his +own." But she answered as tranquilly as before: + +"Seemin'ly it ain't. God A'mighty knows what us be coming to, and He +don't tell. As a Christian woman I bows afore Him." + +Poor Mrs. Mucklow, continually contrasting the prosperity of Alfred with +the ill-luck, as she deemed it, of her own three sons, sniffed again. +Not long since the three Mucklows had contemplated emigration to Canada. +They had been anchored in Nether-Applewhite by Mr. Fishpingle, sometime +butler to Sir Geoffrey, now bailiff at the Home Farm. They happened to +pursue avocations such as hurdling, spar-making, hedging and ditching, +which were precariously dependent upon a demand that varied +tremendously, a demand that, year by year, shewed inexorable signs of +failing. And Mrs. Mucklow was uneasily conscious that her sons' ill luck +was regarded by her sister-in-law as part of a Divine dispensation. In +the same complacent spirit the good-luck of Alfred became, in Susan +Yellam's eyes, a mark of Divine favour. It may be imagined how this +rankled in the heart of a woman who held herself to be as good a +Christian as her neighbours, and perhaps better. Mrs. Mucklow retorted +tartly: + +"You be allers shovin' your Christian feelin's down our throats, Susan. +But I say this--you ain't been tried as I hev." + +Mrs. Yellam dealt with this drastically. + +"I be thankful for God's mercies. I might be less thankful if so be as I +mixed up my victuals as you do. Faith in A'mighty God have more to do +wi' the stomach than most folks think on. As for being tried--I tend +four graves in churchyard to your one." + +Mrs. Mucklow's small beady eyes softened. + +"Yas--you've had your sore trials, Susan. And the graves be a credit to +'ee. But I've said it afore, and I say it again, small fam'lies make for +righteousness. Keepin' my childern in shoe-leather alone took a deal o' +saintliness out o' me. Be that cake?" + +"I hopes so. Have a slice?" + +"Your rich cake allers lies heavy on my pore stomach, but 'twould be +ungenteel to refuse." + +Mrs. Yellam cut a large slice. As Mrs. Mucklow consumed it, Mrs. Yellam +said impressively: + +"I'll tell 'ee something, Jane, as betwixt us two. I ain't one to brag +unduly, and 'tis true that I be proud o' my Christian feelings. For why? +Because, long ago, I come mighty near to losing 'em." + +Mrs. Mucklow gasped; a piece of cake stuck in her throat. + +"I never did! Come near to losin' 'em, did 'ee?" + +"Yas." Mrs. Yellam's voice became solemn. "When I buried my pore +husband...." + +"That was a rare funeral, Susan. Squire and my lady there, flowers from +the Hall, a very moving set-out. Was I interrupting of 'ee?" + +"You was, Jane, but never mind. As I laid my husband to rest, I says to +myself: 'The Lard gave and the Lard ha' taken away.'" + +"Very proper." + +"The pore man suffered so bad with rheumatics that it seemed God's mercy +to take 'un. He'd no pleasure in life onless he were talking of his +aches and pains. And allers the misery o' telling me what he'd like to +eat an' drink--and couldn't. That fair tore him, and me. He was a rare +doer, like Alferd. When he was taken, I did not rebel." + +Mrs. Mucklow was so interested that she suspended operations with the +cake, awaiting the climax of an astounding tale, arrested by a strange +expression upon her sister-in-law's face. The pupils of Mrs. Yellam's +eyes seemed to contract; her lips became set. She continued very +impressively: + +"When my children died, 'twas different. Seemed to me like as if I was +buryin' part o' myself. 'Twere bad enough when the two boys went, but +when Lizzie sickened, my own lil' maid, why then, Jane, I did rebel." + +"And no wonder!" + +"I watched her slippin' away, and I says, 'No more churchgoin'.'" + +Mrs. Mucklow repeated the words: + +"No more churchgoing--! That, from you? I be shaken to my beam ends." + +Mrs. Yellam went on, in the same cold, incisive voice: + +"We be told, Jane, that the Lard chastens him whom He loves, but we read +elsewhere in the holy Book that He chastises them as He hates. When +Lizzie died I'd the blasphemeous notion that God A'mighty hated me. And +then my faith went a-flutterin' out o' winder. I lay in bed two Sundays, +because I dassn't go into my pew. I never spoke to nobody. Yas--I lay +abed, fighting Satan. He tempted me rarely." + +Mrs. Mucklow nodded. + +"Ah-h-h! You be tellin' a wondersome tale, Susan. Satan nearly had me, +near as no matter, when I was a maid. He came gallivantin' along in a +red coat...." + +"A soldier?" + +"No, a fox-hunting young gentleman. 'Tis a subject I don't care to think +about. How did Satan tempt you, Susan?" + +"Wi' a brandy-bottle. It stood there makin' eyes at me...." + +"For all the world like my young gentleman." + +"What saved you, Jane?" + +"I dunno'. It might ha' been God A'mighty's grace. It might ha' been +fear o' consequences.' + +"Them two things saved me, Jane. But I calls it one thing. God +A'mighty's grace made both on us think o' consequences. I says to +myself: 'What will Alferd do if his mother don't go churchalong? What'll +happen to him, if his mother be known as a drunkard?' And, there and +then, Jane, my pore faith come a-flutterin' back, a-shaking its +feathers, like a hen after a storm o' rain. And the storm was over, too. +It's been warm and sunny for me ever since. Now you know why I be proud +o' my Christian feelings." + +Mrs. Mucklow nodded and finished her cake. She had begun her second cup +of tea, when steps were heard upon the stone flags which led from the +front wicket to the back door. + +"'Tis Alferd," said Mrs. Yellam. + +"And Miss Fancy Broomfield," added Jane Mucklow. "Come to ask your +blessing, Susan." + +"Fiddle!" replied Mrs. Yellam sharply. + +Within a minute, however, it became plain that Alfred wanted nothing +more exciting than a cup of tea for himself and his companion. They had +climbed to the top of the down, after visiting Mr. Fishpingle at the +Home Farm. Miss Broomfield, formally presented to the elder women and as +formally received, looked pale and tired. Possibly, she divined +hostility the more penetrating because suppressed. Mrs. Yellam said +magnificently: + +"Please excuse me for welcoming you, Miss Broomfield, in my kitchen." + +Fancy smiled. + +"What a pretty kitchen!" + +The kitchen--as Mrs. Yellam was complacently aware--deserved the +adjective. It boasted, what is never found in modern cottages, an open +hearth and ingle-nook. Hams and flitches of bacon were smoked in the +wide chimney. After such treatment, the hams were hung in a row from a +big black beam. By the side of the hearth stood a small stove large +enough to bake modest joints. The window, with diamond-paned casements, +was deeply recessed, with a red-cushioned seat running round it. The +dresser, opposite to the hearth, exhibited pewter and some +willow-pattern pottery. Upon the oak panelling on each side of the +hearth hung gleaming brass, including an immense warming-pan. The table +in the middle of the room had been stoutly built of deal. Removing the +table-cloth, you would have seen a surface scrubbed white as the linen +cloth. Along the window-sill were pots of geraniums. Even Mrs. Mucklow +admitted that Queen Mary could eat her dinner off the red tiles of the +floor. + +Mrs. Yellam nodded. Alfred brought a chair for Fancy, but she declared +her intention of sitting upon one of two stools against the wall. + +To her amazement, Alfred said sharply: + +"Don't sit on that!" + +"Why ever not, Mr. Yellam?" + +"'Tis a coffin stool." + +Fancy sat down upon the chair he placed for her. Mrs. Mucklow said +mournfully: + +"I wonders, Susan, why you keep they stools in your kitchen." + +"And so do I," added Alfred. + +Mrs. Yellam answered simply: + +"They mind me, Alferd, that in the midst o' life we be wise to think, +now and again, o' death. Will you remove your hat, Miss Broomfield?" + +Fancy did so, slipping off her gloves first. Mrs. Yellam frightened her +a little. Not quite at ease, she minded her table manners, and behaved +with a gentility quietly noted and silently commended by the elder +women. On such occasions, when a stranger happened to be present, Mrs. +Yellam loved to lead the talk, choosing a subject likely to improve the +minds of her listeners. The captious may regard this as an unpleasing +trait. Mrs. Yellam believed that it was more blessed to give than to +receive instruction. But, listening to Parson or Squire, she imbibed +such wisdom as fell from their august lips with an attention and an +intelligence which she exacted from others when she held the floor. Her +first duty, as hostess, was to see that her guest made a good tea, the +sort of tea, obviously, that she did not get at home. Fancy, however, +trifled with her food, being overtired, and positively refused to eat +cake. Mrs. Yellam said majestically: + +"My son tells me that you be a reader, Miss Broomfield." + +"I like books," replied Fancy. "I have not read many, Mrs. Yellam." + +"I don't hold wi' reading," observed Mrs. Mucklow; "leastways, not for +pore folks as has no time to waste." + +This was a sly thrust at Susan Yellam, one of the few villagers who took +in and read a halfpenny paper. + +"Nor do I, Jane, for such as you means. Parson says you find in a book +just what you bring to 'un. There's folks in Nether-Applewhite as brings +nothing, nothing at all." + +Mrs. Mucklow helped herself to a second slice of cake. Alfred lit his +pipe, hoping that Fancy would stand her ground when his mother opened +fire. Mrs. Yellam smiled graciously at her guest. She might be +"spindling," but she looked intelligent. Nevertheless, she distrusted +intelligence in very young women. Undisciplined, it might turn a modest +maid into a militant suffragette. From all such, Good Lord, deliver us! +A Nether-Applewhite girl, at the head of her class in school, had joined +the Salvation Army, and now banged a tambourine in Southampton. +Sometimes she wondered whether her own Lizzie mightn't have turned out a +handful. Such a possibility almost resigned her to the loss of a child +very precocious and with a strong will of her own. You will understand +the temperament and character of Susan Yellam better if you grasp the +fact that she endeavoured, habitually, to explain the mysterious +workings of Providence both to herself and to her neighbours. She had +been a devoted wife and mother, but, marking as she did the +disconcerting changes in young women of her acquaintance, she was forced +to the conclusion that many mothers profited by losing their prayers. +God Almighty knew best. She addressed Fancy again: + +"You live in Salisbury?" + +"I do, Mrs. Yellam." + +"My son tells me that there be many radicals in the town." + +"I daresay." + +"Be you true blue or yaller?" + +"I don't quite understand." + +"Be you Conservative or Radical?" + +"My father is a Liberal." + +Alfred looked uneasy. As a carrier, seeking business where he could find +it, and dealing impartially with all, he eschewed politics, and +deprecated the discussion of controversial themes. He would have been +amazed had a stranger informed him that his outlook on life was +panoramic in comparison with his mother's. Coming to the rescue of +Fancy, he said encouragingly: + +"So is Mr. Hamlin. He ain't the worse parson for that. As Mother knows." + +Mrs. Yellam nodded. A slight acerbity informed her voice as she answered +her son: + +"Mr. Hamlin be a good man in parish, Alferd. 'Tis a square sound peg in +a square hole. And I say this for 'un. He don't talk politics wi' me." + +Mrs. Mucklow interpolated slily: + +"Ah-h-h! Parson be a wise man too." + +Mrs. Yellam ignored this superbly. She looked at Alfred, but her remarks +were addressed to Fancy. + +"We all knows that Mr. Hamlin is Radical, and 'tis a sore point wi' +Squire and many others. I hold wi' the old ways, I do. I've no patience +wi' mischief-makers, a-settin' class agen class, stirrin' up strife, and +a-puttin' beggars on horseback. As for they jumped-up folks, sanding +their sugar yesterday an' to-day peacocking along pretending to be +quality, I fair hates the sight o' 'em. I wouldn't let a maid o' mine +take service wi' such. All this talk about equality be foolish and +contrary to Scrupture. There be gentle, and simple, rich and pore. And I +takes it that pore means more nor poverty--pore o' purse, pore o' mind, +pore o' body...." + +"And poor of soul," said Fancy. + +Mrs. Yellam turned sharply. But there was no offence in the girl's quiet +voice. She lay back in her chair, listening attentively, obviously +interested. Mrs. Yellam nodded. + +"And pore o' soul. You don't look, Miss Broomfield, as if you was +ashamed o' service." + +"I ain't," said Fancy. + +"And I reckons you hold wi' me that folks should rest content in their +proper station o' life, eh?" + +Fancy answered politely: + +"I heard a sermon preached on that in our cathedral." + +"Did 'ee now?" + +"Yes. Till I heard that sermon, Mrs. Yellam, I was never quite able to +understand about doing my duty in that state of life unto which it +should please God to call me." + +"'Tis plain as plain to me," said Mrs. Yellam. + +Fancy hesitated. She desired to please Alfred's mother. She was quick to +realise how easily she might displease her. Being innately sincere, she +continued bravely: + +"It seemed to me to be wrong not to want to better oneself, to rise +higher...." + +As she paused, at a loss for words, Mrs. Mucklow interrupted with a hard +laugh. + +"Right or wrong, we all feels that way. Susan Yellam don't fancy motors, +but she'd like to ride in her carriage an' pair, and would too, if so be +as a convict uncle from Australia left her a fortin'." + +Alfred said uneasily: + +"Now, Aunt Jane, you know we ain't got convict uncles t'other side of +the world. What will Miss Broomfield be thinking of us?" + +To his astonishment and delight Fancy, not his mother, answered Mrs. +Mucklow. + +"But that is what the preacher made so plain and comfortsome. He said +that we were not to be content with the station to which we might be +born, but content in that unto which God might call us. He might call us +to a higher position, or to a lower. He might give carriages and horses, +or take them away." + +Her gentle voice, so persuasive, so sincere, carried with it an +extraordinary conviction. This simple explanation of a text familiar to +anybody who has learnt the Catechism became instantly adequate. + +Mrs. Yellam, quite as sincere as Fancy, said quickly: + +"'Tis true. I never thought on't just that way. And 'tis fair, too. Let +God's Will be done, whate'er betide." Her face brightened. She said +almost joyously: "I shall ride in Alferd's new motor-'bus wi' proper +pride now, feeling sure that God A'mighty called me to do so." + +Alfred beamed. Fancy, he perceived, had "made a hit." It might be +prudent to take her away, and run no risks. If he and she resumed their +walk, the elder women would discuss her handsomely. A favourable first +impression might become indelible. He got up: + +"If you feel good and ready, Miss Broomfield, we might take the road +again." + +"She be tired out," declared Mrs. Yellam. "Anybody but a man'd see that. +You let Miss Broomfield bide along wi' us, Alferd; she can bide so long +as she's a mind to." + +This was disconcerting both for Alfred and Fancy. Happily for them, Mrs. +Mucklow espied an opening for contradiction. She exclaimed derisively: + +"What a notion, askin' a young maid to bide along wi' two old women, +when every bird i' the trees is a-singing to his mate. But 'tis true, +Miss Broomfield be leg-weary, after climbing our hills. Take her down +river, Alferd. Do 'ee borrow the miller's boat." + +"That I will," said Alfred. "And glad he'll be to oblige me, too. Come +on, miss. 'Tis only a step to the mill." + +The pair vanished. The elder women looked at each other. + +Mrs. Mucklow said slowly: + +"I be flambergasted, Susan." + +"So be I." + +"A very pretty, modest maid." + +"Alferd might do worse; I allows that." + +"So do I, Susan." + +Mrs. Yellam hesitated, and then said slowly: + +"Alferd be fair daffy about her, that's a fact. Miffed as I may well be +at his choosin' a sweetheart who looks, seemin'ly, as if a puff o' +wind'd blow her bang out o' parish, I sticks to what I says, the boy +might ha' done worse." + +"Boy, indeed! He be a man." + +"'Tis true. And the multiplication-table, one might say, be made for him +rather than her. Alfred did tell me las' night that an auntie, on her +mother's side, bore twins twice. But as to that, we women be all in God +A'mighty's hands." + +"Then Alferd have told 'ee as he wants her?" + +"Don't 'ee repeat it. He have." + +"Then he'll get her. A big strong feller like that feels wonnerful +cuddlesome when he comes acrost they delicate, abstemious females. 'Tis +as sartain as we be sitting here that he'll put the question in his own +good time." + +Mrs. Yellam sighed. + +"We be on the skirts o' great happenings. If 'tis the Lard's Will, I +have nothing to say." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +LE PAYS DU TENDRE + + +During the month that followed, Fancy was very happy. Time stands still +for true lovers. Past and future seem immensely remote; the present, +with its rosy hours, holds captive the happy prisoners. Alfred, it is +true, had not yet put his fate to more than the touch. He had encircled +a slender waist with a reassuringly strong arm--no more. Being a Yellam +and a carrier, he disdained haste. Fancy was well content to stroll arm +in crook towards the altar. Indeed, upon more than one occasion she had +checked Alfred when about to explode into speech. Behind this +procrastination lay a maiden's quickening sense of the passion she had +provoked. Men whom she regarded as "devils" had accused her of being +prim and cold. She happened to be neither, but it delighted her to think +that she inspired restraint in her lover, that he treated her with a +delicacy less rare in big strong men than is generally supposed. His dry +humour appealed to her, and the rude Doric of this remote Wiltshire +village brought many a smile to lips that grew redder as kissing-time +drew near. As yet Alfred had not kissed her, although he had kissed the +_others_ many times. She gleaned this information from her fellow-maids, +who were very sympathetic and, apparently, more impatient for a +satisfactory consummation than the protagonists themselves. + +Meanwhile, Alfred was learning how to drive a motor, and becoming +acquainted, very slowly but surely, with the "insides" of the great +beast. Already he regarded it as human, and of the same sex as Fancy. He +would say: + +"She was ramping and roaring yesterday afternoon and spitting black +smoke at me. But when I coax her, she purrs sweet as any pussy-cat." + +Lively chaff was exchanged between the lovers upon fortunes told by real +ladies, which turned out wrong. Fancy, however, still pinned her faith +to an old pack of cards in her possession, and to appease her Alfred +began to speak of himself as a soldier. When Fancy confided this to +Molly, she said maliciously: "Soldier, eh? Well, he ain't one o' the +'onward' sort, is he?" Fancy divined that Alfred would speak when the +motor-'bus was delivered; and there were moments when she asked herself +anxiously which of the two "hers" he loved the better. + +Toward the end of July, her mind was set at rest upon this point. After +the first walk to the downs, Alfred discovered that Fancy tired easily, +although her alert little mind remained active and indefatigable. His +own brains moved slowly; frequently he was unable to follow the maid's +divagations and speculations. For example, he had asked her soberly what +she intended to mean by the expression a "poor soul," an expression used +by him in an entirely different sense. + +"You came nigh upsetting Mother," he told her. "Dang me, if she didn't +think 'twas a biff at her." + +"I meant a lean soul." + +"Whatever may that be, dear?" + +Always, when these problems presented themselves for solution, Fancy +would hesitate and blush a little, which hugely delighted Alfred, who +set himself the pleasant task of framing questions during his drives to +and from Salisbury to be answered on the next Sunday. + +Having taken time to collect her powers of speech, Fancy said solemnly: + +"Some rich people as well as poor have lean souls." + +"Rich people? Do you know any rich people?" + +"No, but David says so." + +"David? You don't mean David Mucklow? He's a pore soul, sure enough." + +"I was speaking of King David, who wrote the Psalms. When people's +bodies wax fat with riches, their souls grow lean." + +Alfred nodded, feeling slightly uncomfortable. He weighed an honest +fifteen stone. + +"Ah-h-h! They wax so fat that they stick in the Narrer Gate?" + +"Yes; I suppose so." + +Alfred considered this, frowning. Then his face brightened. + +"I see you slipping through that Gate like a lozenge." + +"Oh, please don't say that! 'Tis a figure of speech, Mr. Yellam. Thin +people may have lean souls. I sometimes think that my soul is lean, when +I lie awake thinking of--of----" + +"Of what, dear?" + +"Of myself, and what I want for myself." + +"What do you want?" + +"Lots and lots of things." + +She evaded further questions, arousing a keener curiosity. Her +elusiveness frightened him. He couldn't understand anybody lying awake +after an honest day's toil. He tried to picture her lying sleepless, +with her luminous eyes gazing into the darkness. Did she think of him? +Did she really want him as he wanted her? The mere thought of her frail +little body aroused a strange reverence. His mother was right. A puff of +wind would blow her out of parish, blow her out of sight, blow her bang +through the Narrow Gate. And feeling this, with the stabbing, +ever-recurring reflection that she was the least fleshly of mortal women +whom he knew, he would not willingly have added half a cubit to her +stature or half a pound to her weight. In his eyes, she was just right. + +Upon a never-to-be-forgotten Sunday, much rain had fallen. Fancy, who, +like most servants, wore too thin shoes, perpetrated a mild joke: + +"'Twill be dryer on the river than on land, Alfred." + +For some time they had called each other by their Christian names. + +"You're right, Fancy." + +The motor-'bus, gloriously red-and-yellow, shining like a sunset, had +been brought homealong the night before. Alfred shewed it to Fancy, +expatiating upon its superlative merits and beauties till Fancy's +jealousy was kindled afresh. Oddly enough, urban though the girl was and +advanced in her ideas, she felt as Mrs. Yellam did about machinery. +Whirring wheels and roarings and rampings aroused queer qualms in her. +Alfred took out the heavy silver watch which had belonged to his father, +and balanced it on the radiator. Then he proceeded to "race" the engine, +although he had been advised not to do so. The watch never quivered, but +Fancy did. She put her hands to her small ears, and ejaculated: + +"O-h-h!" + +"What's the matter?" + +When the engine was purring gently, Fancy confessed that noise upset +her. Pistols, for example, discharged suddenly in places of +entertainment, made her jump. Alfred said derisively: + +"What a rare wife for a soldier!" + +"I thought 'twas going to explode, yes, I did." + +"Not she. 'Tis a beautiful 'bus, and, maybe, she'll carry me and +mine"--he glanced at her now pensive face--"to fame and fortune." + +With this hope animating his heart and voice, Alfred spoke at length, +and with impressive deliberation, mapping out a golden future. Already +he had made arrangements to transport passengers to Salisbury, likely +boys and girls anxious to attend the High School. He predicted an +ever-increasing traffic and the almost immediate necessity of running +two 'buses and engaging an assistant. + +"Maybe such a job would suit a young woman I know, Miss Fancy +Broomfield." + +Fancy hastened to assure him that such ambitions soared high above her +disabilities. Alfred continued, waxing very eloquent, letting loose +amazing phrases, setting forth prospects which must please and allure +his listener, talking at her so persistently that Fancy became +frightened. + +"Alfred," she said, entreatingly, "don't make so sure of things." + +"'Tis in my hand." + +"I mind poor Father's plans, and that makes me nervous when you race on +so." + +"What about his plans?" + +"He'd a nice business, shoeing the carriage horses of the quality. He +never did fancy rough work. But it went to bits, when motoring came in. +That lay back of his poor health. We never know what'll happen." + +"I say we do. God Almighty helps them as helps themselves. I'm helping +myself to a large spoonful, but I can down it, and more too." + +Undeterred and undismayed by her protestations, he rushed on gaily, as +if driving his 'bus at excess speed. To Fancy he seemed to be whirling +out of sight altogether. Nevertheless she guessed that this +nerve-racking, soul-jolting excursion into the future was presented as a +joy-ride for her. + +"If you ain't careful," she warned him, "you'll fetch up in Buckingham +Palace." + +At this derisive quip, he jammed on brakes, regaining her sympathy with +the grim remark: + +"Or in a ditch. You're right, my girl. 'Tis a fool as toots his own +horn. Let's say good-bye to the old van." + +The van stood derelict at the back of the shed; the stout horses had +been sold at a fair price. Alfred locked up the door of the shed and +glanced dubiously at the grey skies. The afternoon promised fine +weather, but the grass in the park was sopping. Being a true Yellam, +Alfred had made elaborate plans; he had chosen the spot where he meant +to propose, a bosky nook in one of the smaller plantations, hard by a +tiny stream, where ferns grew luxuriantly. In this sanctuary Fancy might +be persuaded to take off her hat and gloves. Then, after due +preliminaries, the man would have his way with the maid. He felt full of +poetry, and quite incapable of expressing it. + +"Wet as water it be underfoot," he growled. + +And then Fancy made her small joke. Alfred jumped at the suggestion. +Twenty minutes later, they were floating upon the quiet bosom of the +Avon, where the river widened above the mill. + +"Perfectly lovely," murmured Fancy. + +Alfred nodded, with a heart too full for speech. The sight of his red +face amused the maid. She knew well enough what was simmering beneath a +too stolid exterior. He pulled up-stream with short, jerky strokes, +effective but not elegant. His jacket lay across Fancy's knees, a +protection against splashings. White shirt-sleeves bulged with big +muscles. They were heading for a small willow-covered eyot, really--as +Alfred reflected--a more secluded spot than the bosky dell. He could +push the boat through the reeds and bulrushes and find snug harbourage +under the willows. + +He did so. + +Secure from prying eyes, they sat together, side by side, at the bottom +of the boat. Alfred slipped an arm round Fancy's waist, and pressed her +to him. He wondered whether she would remain cool and calm, when the +burning question was asked. With huge satisfaction he noticed that her +bosom just heaved beneath her thin blouse. On this blouse rested a tiny +gold locket which held the portrait of her sailor brother. Alfred had +never seen this locket palpitate before. His own heart thumped almost +indecorously at the sight. Stealing a glance at her face, he saw that +she was blushing. The silence was so delicious that he hated to break +it--and didn't. Certain carefully-prepared phrases whirled out of his +mind. + +"My!" exclaimed Fancy. + +"What is it, dear?" + +"A big water-rat!" + +"So 'tis. I don't blame him for wishing to have a look at you." + +The rat behaved charmingly, peering down at them from the bank, ready to +dive into his hole, if the trespassers upon his domain moved. + +"He ain't afraid," said Alfred; "but I am." + +Fancy said hastily: + +"Don't move! What bright eyes he has, to be sure." + +"No brighter than others I know." + +"Shush-h-h! There! He's gone. I wanted to see him stroke his whiskers. I +wonder whether he be a gentleman rat or a lady rat?" + +This happy remark provided a new opening. Alfred said with authority: + +"He's a buck rat. He didn't feel frightened, but I reckon he'd told his +missis and the little 'uns that he'd just take a squint at a notable +couple, and come back. I'll wager a new hat, he's telling 'em a fine +tale." + +"For all you know he may be an old bachelor." + +"Ah! Rats are wiser than we. And Nature is kinder to them. 'Tis no big +business for them to get to house-keeping. When they're good and ready, +they go at it--slam bang." + +"Yes. Animals don't want much." + +Alfred pressed her a little closer. + +"Take off hat and gloves, Fancy." + +"Why?" + +"'Tis a notion I have." + +She smiled faintly, and obeyed. Alfred eyed the hat, a simple affair, +home-made. The gloves were of white silkette. Everything she wore seemed +to be part of herself, dainty, ephemeral, easily crushed and soiled. + +"Put your dear head on my shoulder. 'Twill be more cosy." + +She hesitated, and did so. Her palely-pink cheek lay close to his lips. +He said solemnly: + +"I mind what you said, Fancy, about lying awake nights, wanting lots and +lots of things. Tell me about the things you want." + +"I c-c-can't." + +Her voice had sunk to an attenuated whisper. He realised that she was +trembling, and his own pulses throbbed with hers. He continued, more +fluently, pressing her tighter to him: + +"Are you wanting grand things?" + +"Oh, no. Whatever made you think so?" + +"Because, dear, there is something grand about you. It mazes me, when I +think on't in my everyday way. You're Parson's parlourmaid, thank the +Lord! and I'm a plain carrier, with no book-learning and rough manners. +'Tis like this, Fancy. I'm of the earth, and you're a lil' angel. +'Twouldn't surprise me to find wings growing on your dear back." + +He touched her back gently, to make sure. It was satisfactory to find +that wings, as yet, had not sprouted. + +"I'm only a silly girl, Alfred." + +He repeated obstinately: + +"You're grand. I reckon 'tis your soul which comes nigh to busting your +dinky body. Now, Fancy, what do you think about, nights?" + +Direct in all things, it never occurred to Alfred that a modest girl +might shrink from answering such a question in the sincere spirit which +put it. She smiled sweetly: + +"When we talked about that, Alfred, I was thinking amongst other things +of...." + +"Yes, dear?" + +"That hat." She pointed a slim finger at it. "I wanted that hat ever so, +because I saw one very like it on the pretty head of Mrs. Lionel +Pomfret. I wrote a long letter to Father, telling him where to buy the +straw and the trimmings. You like it, don't you?" + +"I never saw a prettier hat, but I like best the head as bobs under it." + +"It cost me four-and-eight; not a penny more." + +"Wonderful you be with your needle. Go on, Fancy. I reckon that hats +ain't all you think about." + +"I think about Willie, tossing in his great ship." + +A consuming envy of Willie, the sailor brother, assailed Alfred, but no +suitable phrase occurred to him. Fancy continued: + +"Most of the time, Alfred, my thoughts are with poor Father. He does +miss me." + +"I'll be bound he does." + +"He enjoys such miserable health. He's a real farrier, doctors horses as +well as shoes 'em. And he takes his own medicine. I used to water it +down, unbeknown to him." + +"Horse medicine? That's moving stuff. Looks as if your thoughts, dear, +never rambled far from the family." + +"Oh, yes, they do. I think a lot, Alfred, about the future." + +This was more encouraging. + +"So do I; so do I." + +"If anything happened to Father or Willie, where would I be?" + +Alfred replied happily: + +"I don't know where you would be, but I can tell you where you might +be." + +His eager voice beguiled her, but she resisted its pleading. + +"I might be almost alone in the world. My two sisters are married. They +live in small houses. There wouldn't be room for me. I like this place, +but, oh, dear! some places be awful. It's selfish to think of myself, +but I can't help it." + +"'Tis a heartsome thing to think about. I think about you, Fancy, when I +drive slow along our roads. You fill my mind, you do." + +He hoped fervently that she would say what he wanted and confess +outright that she let some of her thoughts dwell on him. But again the +poor fellow was grievously disappointed. She murmured confusedly: + +"How funny!" + +"Funny be damned!" + +"Alfred----!" + +"I don't care. I'm moved as if I'd taken your father's horse medicine. +You're raking me up with a small tooth-comb. If I think of you all the +time, 'twould seem fair that you'd think of me some of the time." + +"Perhaps I do." + +"Ah-h-h! That's better. We're coming to grips." + +As if contradicting this, the aggravating witch raised her head. Alfred +grew desperate. Had he been browsing in a fool's paradise? The thought +palsied speech. He spoke angrily: + +"I see how 'tis. You lie awake shaking with laughter, thinking what I +fool I am." + +"Gracious! If you talk like that, I shall think so." + +"I am a fool about you. 'Tis a fact. I ain't ashamed on't." + +"Folks say...." She hesitated; her eyes twinkled demurely, but he +couldn't see them. + +"Well, what do folks say?" + +"That you're a oner with girls, on and off like." + +"On and off? You're throwing big Eliza at my head. If I was a true +soldier man, always bragging about my victorious marches with women, I +might tell you 'twas t'other way about. Being only a timorsome carrier, +and a lover of God Almighty's truth, I say this. Eliza scairt the +gizzard out of me, she did. I fair ran away from her audacious, +ungenteel attacks. Now you have it." + +Fancy laughed. Alfred fumed on, beside himself with love and impatience. + +"I've walked out with many maids, some not so maidenly as might be. I'm +a picker and chooser, getting that much sense from my mother. I never +walked long with any of 'em. If you'd happened along fifteen years ago, +when the first petticoat hit me in eye, I'd have remained true and +faithful to you--so help me God!" + +She remained silent, twisting her fingers. He said hoarsely: + +"I want you desperately for my wife, Fancy Broomfield. And you know it, +being a clever maid. Now--don't you want me?" + +He felt her body relaxing, almost slipping from him. Then, very slowly, +she lifted her eyes to his, and he read in their luminous depths the +blessed answer which her quivering lips withheld. + +He kissed her reverently and tenderly. + +To his surprise and delight, she kissed him, clinging to him, and +whispering pantingly: + +"You'll be kind to me, Alfred; I know you will. I'm such a poor wife for +the likes of you. Your mother thinks so, and your Aunt Jane." + +"You can twist them round your lil' finger." + +"I believe you love your motor-'bus more than me." + +"What a notion! Now I'm going to kiss such foolishness out of you. If it +ain't gone when I've given you the first big dose, why, I must begin all +over again." + +The river lapped its approval against the sides of the old boat. A sedge +warbler looked on with his tiny head on one side. The tall reeds nodded. +The sun peeped from behind a cloud and shot a golden shaft upon the +pair. Why do we think of the orbéd maiden, the Moon, as being kinder to +lovers than the great god of day, which warms and fructifies? Upon this +artless pair he poured generously his vivifying beams. Suddenly the +willows sparkled with diamonds, the grey river became a sheet of silver, +the sedge warbler fluted his hymeneal note, and other warblers joined in +the chorus. + +And, far away, in a great palace, men were bending frowning brows over a +vast war-map, gesticulating fiercely, plotting and planning Armageddon. + +But the lovers had their hour. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +UNCLE + + +Everybody in Nether-Applewhite called Habakkuk Mucklow Uncle. + +In all villages remote from what we call civilisation there may be found +men like him, loose-limbed, loose-tongued, easy, pleasure-loving, +quick-witted in what concerns others, strangely slow to grapple with +their own opportunities, always at the mercy of their wives and genially +dependent upon them. Uncle was the best thatcher in the countryside. He +might have been busy all the time, but it was known that he refused +disdainfully the more primitive forms of his work; he never touched +barns or stacks. On the other hand, he was artistically eager to tackle +the decorative thatching which is still to be found in Wiltshire. +Although he was older than his sister, Mrs. Yellam, and past sixty, he +still ran afoot with the hounds, and earned handsome tips as an +independent harbourer of deer. During many years, also, he had been +"beater" to old Captain Davenant, who took out a Forest License from the +Crown which afforded him three days' rough shooting a week, from October +till the end of January. Nobody, in those parts, knew the northern half +of the New Forest better than Habakkuk Mucklow. + +Like all his family, he was an upstanding fellow, a six-footer, and +finely proportioned, with a cheerful red face, cleanly-shaven save for a +wisp of grey whisker which he sported high on his cheek after the +fashion adopted by the Iron Duke, whom Habakkuk venerated as the +greatest of Englishmen. Had you told him that his hero came from +Ireland, he would not have believed it. + +Uncle loved creature comforts, and could carry more strong ale without +showing it than any man in the parish. Very wisely he had married Jane +Rockley who, in her time, had served a long apprenticeship at Pomfret +Court as scullery-maid and then kitchen-maid, becoming, finally, cook in +that handsome establishment. Jane Mucklow ruled Habakkuk through his +stomach, and he was well aware of this, and rebelled constantly against +what he considered to be an abuse of power. + +"Womenfolk," he would remark, "don't wage honourable warfare. They hits +below the belt, they do. When my old 'ooman gets miffed wi' me, I +notices a tremenjous difference in my victuals." + +Uncle had pipeclay in his marrow. During his hot youth he had taken the +Queen's shilling after a poaching affair, and served some five years +with the colours of the county regiment. He had not seen active service, +but he allowed strangers to believe that he was a great warrior. +Possibly, the discipline of the parade ground had made him swear to take +life easily for the rest of his days. + +Captain Davenant spoke of him as a "character." The word "card" was not +known in Nether-Applewhite. + +Uncle loved two persons nearly as much as himself--his sister, Susan, +and his nephew, Alfred. When the news of Alfred's engagement became +known to him, he expressed great interest and pleasure, drinking the +health of prospective groom and bride in much ale and cider. Alfred +brought the blushing Fancy to Uncle's cottage, and received the +felicitations which the good looks of the young woman warranted. + +Uncle had sentimental views about the married state not shared by his +wife. As he kissed Fancy, he said solemnly: + +"'Tis a great venture. We all likes a dip into the lucky bag. And it do +seem to me, Alferd, as you've pulled a prize." + +Mrs. Mucklow sniffed. She, too, kissed Fancy, but uttered a warning +note: + +"Marriage ain't what some folks crack it up to be, my girl. But I've not +a word agen courtship. Your uncle, as is to be, follered me about like a +dog for three years, and I own up truthful 'twas the happiest time o' my +life." + +Uncle laughed cheerily. + +"I be your old dog still, Jane, and allers ready for a bone." + +Mrs. Mucklow nodded, looking whimsically at Fancy. + +"You hear that, my girl? 'Tis the bone they look for. A man's heart lies +in his stomach. Feed up Alferd so long as he behaves himself. I says +nothing about the power o' prayer, seein' as generally speaking my most +powerful prayers ain't been answered as I could wish, but fasting do +wonnerful work, especially wi' men." + +Uncle laughed again. + +Marriage, however, seemed reasonably remote. Fancy wished to "make good" +in her new place. Alfred, very comfortable at home, intended to work +hard for a year at least, laying the solid foundations of a business +likely to be bigger than he had ever dreamed it to be. Mrs. Yellam, +moreover, had spoken plainly and sensibly to her son. + +"She be a sweet maid, Alferd, but tarribly spindlin', a slip o' muslin, +and young for her years." + +"Twenty-two, Mother." + +"I knows that. And I minds that her mother died, pore soul, when Fancy +was born. A bottle-baby; and I never did hold wi' that. Don't 'ee look +so glum. She be plumper a'ready. Pa'son give his maids good plain food, +and our air blowing over downs be better nor strong ale for such as +she." + +"You do love her, Mother?" + +"In course I do, and I'm doing my duty by her and you when I tells 'ee +that she ain't marriage-ripe, nor likely to be for many months to come. +If I was only thinking o' myself, my son, I'd be laying out your wedding +sheets this day. Squire and me has many things in common, and this afore +all: we likes to see red-cheeked little 'uns coming on." + +"You're a wonderful, farseeing woman. Fair aching I am for her, the +pretty dear, but wait we must for matrimonial joys, and wait we shall. +That's certain." + +To his surprise, she laid her strong hands upon his shoulder and kissed +him solemnly: demonstrations rare indeed with her, which provoked +surprise. + +"Why, Mother!" + +She said slowly: + +"You be all I have, Alferd, and a son to be proud of as never was. I be +farseein'. 'Tis a gift o' God. Biding for happiness, in the right +Christian spirit, generally brings it, but not allers, not allers." + +With a sigh she turned to her daily work, and he went, thoughtfully, to +his. + +July glided away peacefully. Wars and rumours of wars reached few ears +in Nether-Applewhite. The possibility of civil war in Ireland disturbed +Mr. Hamlin and provoked to wrath Sir Geoffrey Pomfret; the villagers +remained blandly indifferent to anything outside the sphere of their own +interests and activities. + +With the one exception of Uncle. + +Perhaps that old war-horse--for so he deemed himself to be--nosed from +afar the coming battles. More than likely, he picked up chance words +dropped by Captain Davenant, once a Guardsman, who rented two miles of +fishing on the Avon, preserves under Uncle's watchful eye. The Captain +predicted war with Germany as inevitable. Uncle, like his wife, could be +trusted to repeat what he heard with sundry additions peculiarly his +own. In the ale-house, he told his cronies what he knew and much more. + +"'Twill be a nice bloody how-dy-do; and it mads me to think that time, +as the saying goes, have laid me by the heels. The Kayser be bent on the +job, and have been ever since they ancient days, which I recalls right +well, when he licked the Frenchies. A rare doin' he give 'em, to be +sure." + +An old gaffer answered promptly, voicing, unwittingly, the general +opinion: + +"'Tain't none of our affair. I be sick to my stomach wi' such +flustratious talk. We English be the mightiest people on earth because +we minds our own business. I don't think nothing o' foreigners; they be, +one and all, so wonderful peevish." + +Uncle smiled genially. + +"Minds our own business, do us? I bain't so cocky-sure o' that, old +friend. Speaking up for myself, and bigger fools have spoken in this +ale-house, I be sartain sure that good money comes my way through +minding other folks' business. I was never one to think of myself." + +"What a tale!" + +"The Captain be a dry old stick, but cracklin' wi' ripe wisdom, as I be. +And he's seen the world, as I have. Stay-at-home folk never look further +than their back-yards. I takes a very wide view. Me and Lord Roberts +have sized up this yere Kayser for what he be, a very bumptious, +slambang, bold pirate, a Grab-all as must be put in his place by we. And +why? Because 'tis our duty and privilege to keep proper order. We had to +down Krooger." He trolled out lustily: + + "Good old Krooger's dead. + He cut 'is throat + Wi' a piece o' soap. + Good old Krooger's dead." + +"I'll drink one more glass o' ale afore I go homealong. Yes, my +respectable, church-goin' friends, we be on the eve o' such battles as +never was. And I couldn't hold up head amongst proper men, if I thought +old England'd keep out o' the scrap. I practises what I preaches. I've +three big sons--fair whoppers. If wanted, I'll see to it that they be +amongst the first to go, and wi' all my honest, generous soul I wish I +could go along wi' en." + +The publican, William Saint, who served the ale, said sharply: + +"Your sons, Uncle, may have something to say about that." + +Uncle stared at him disdainfully. William Saint was of +Nether-Applewhite, but he had begun a prosperous career as a footman at +Pomfret Court. Uncle despised lackeys in his heart. And he detested what +he termed "quality talk" from people who were not quality. William Saint +spoke mincingly, which indicated cant and prosperity. He was accused, +not without reason, of holding radical views, although, being a +time-server, he voted Conservative in accordance with the Squire's +wishes. Nevertheless, Saint was not a man to be ignored or taken +lightly. His tavern, the _Sir John Barleycorn_, did not engross all his +activities. He had many small irons in the fire, bought and sold horses, +dealt in corn and hay, and farmed a few acres of land. In appearance, he +somewhat resembled Napoleon: the same massive jaw, the thin lips, the +pale complexion and brooding brow. Under his management a small +ale-house was becoming a rival of the principal inn, the _Pomfret Arms_. +He catered for a better class of customer than his predecessor. And he +saw possibilities in a tavern, happily situated in the middle of the +village, overlooking the Avon, a comfortable house of call, clean +outwardly and within, heavily-thatched, picturesque enough to catch the +eye and beguile the fancy of the ubiquitous motorist. + +Uncle drank his ale before he answered Saint. The mighty draught +restored his good-humour. + +"May be. I listens to all men, and suffers fools and knaves as gladly as +King Solomon. The Kayser be spoiling for a big fight wi' we. You be on +the side o' peace, William Saint, and there's many to keep 'ee company. +I don't blame 'ee. 'Tis your ignorance. The country be full o' just such +men as you, wi' their eyes glued to their own tills, and counters, +mindin' their own business, pore souls! and puffed up wi' conceit." He +paused and concluded impressively: "We be tee-totally unprepared, and +there be millions over yonder a-waiting and a-longing to stick us like +so many fat hogs. I wish 'ee, one and all, good-night." + +Uncle cocked his bowler--a genuine Billy Coke hat, with Lock's +historical name on a much-soiled lining (the bowler had belonged to +Captain Davenant)--at a martial angle, and strode to his cottage, +whistling Garryowen. When out with the fox-hounds, he wore a stained red +coat, another sometime hartog of the Captain's, surmounting well-cut +breeches and gaiters, once again part of a generous employer's wardrobe. +He was wearing the breeches and gaiters to-day, but his mind had +wandered from sport to war. Tremendous military ardour possessed him. By +the luck of things, on leaving the ale-house, he encountered Lionel +Pomfret returning from fishing. Lionel had a great affection for Uncle, +although he knew him to be a poacher on the sly. Uncle hailed him with +respectful geniality, reasonably assured that five minutes' talk with +t'young Squire meant more war news and a shining half-crown. On such +occasions he employed a formula, rarely known to fail to open either +hearts or purses. + +"How well 'ee look, Master Lionel! And Lard bless 'ee, I was thinkin' of +'ee as you turned carner. Any fish this fine evening?" + +Lionel Pomfret opened his creel and displayed a nice brace and a half. +But Uncle was in no mood to talk of trout. He had more notable fish to +fry. + +"What be they Frenchies doing, sir?" + +Lionel answered gravely: + +"I hear that twenty thousand Germans have been repulsed at Nancy, but I +don't believe it, Uncle." + +"No more don't I, Master Lionel. These be troublous times." + +Lionel nodded. + +"Be we coming in?" + +"Damn it, we can't keep out." + +"What I says exzactly. The Rads be kickin' up a fine hullabaloo--a very +dirty, timorsome lot. And bound to crawl down the pole bimeby." + +"France is invaded," said Lionel. + +"Quick work, sir." + +"Quick? After forty years' elaborate preparation? This thing is horribly +serious, Uncle. I'm wondering what they think about it in the village." + +"I can tell 'ee, no man better. 'Tis none o' their business, they +thinks. Such shameless ignerunce makes wiser folk value their wisdom. I +happened into the _Sir John Barleycorn_ just afore seein' you, sir. I'd +a matter o' business wi' William Saint." + +Not for wealth untold would Uncle have admitted that he visited an +ale-house to drink ale. Lionel smiled. He knew his man. + +"Very thirsty evening, too, Uncle." + +"I bain't denying that, Master Lionel. And I did take a glass o' what +they calls ale there for the good o' the house. We fell to talkin'. I +made bold to tell 'em what me and Lord Roberts felt about that there +Kayser. And it miffed 'em. I could see that. And the less they pore +souls says the more they thinks. They be chewin' my cud now. But what do +'ee really think, sir?" + +Lionel laughed, not wholeheartedly. He was a six months' bridegroom. + +"I think, Uncle, that inside of a fortnight I shall be at my depot in +Winchester, drilling recruits." + +"Lard save us! And you wi' so young and be-utiful a wife!" + +"Sir Geoffrey thinks as I do. There is going to be a terrific strain on +the manhood of this country. Will it stand that strain?" + +"I thinks it will, Master Lionel, so be as they chin-wobblin' +politicians keeps their dirty fingers out o' pie. I'd like to march wi' +'ee to Winchester, and overseas, too, by Jo'!" + +Lionel nodded. A minute later Uncle strode on his way with the expected +half-crown snug in his breeches' pocket. He told himself that he had +earned it. + +When he reached his cottage, he found George, the youngest of his three +sons, just back from the woods, where he worked as a hurdler at this +time of year. The other sons were married and established in cottages of +their own. Jane Mucklow was busy preparing the eight o'clock hot supper. +An agreeable odour filled the kitchen. Uncle kicked the dust off his +boots and entered the house, with George at his heels. The good smell of +baked pork provoked, as usual, a pleasant word. Indeed, Habakkuk Mucklow +had discovered very early in life that soft words do butter parsnips. + +"Well, Mother, you looks very sanitary, and what a colour!" + +"Got, as you well knows, from stewin' over a fire. Been painting your +nose wi' ale, or worse, I reckons." + +Uncle stroked his nose. + +"'Tis a very handsome feature, Jane, and allers a true friend to your +good cookin'. I met Master Lionel in village street, and let 'un know +what a wise man was thinking about the times. Agreed wi' every word, he +did. I told 'un he'd be called to jine up again in Winchester inside o' +fortnit. Like as not Garge here'll be wearin' out shoe-leather in some +barrack-yard afore he's much older." + +Mrs. Mucklow stared at him, paralysed by astonishment. George, being the +most interested party, said heavily: + +"Not if I knows meself." + +"I say, Garge, as you'll enlist if they want 'ee." + +"They won't want the likes o' me." + +Jane Mucklow said sharply: + +"Don't you go upsettin' the boy wi' your ridiculous war-talk, Father. He +come nigh on leavin' us to freeze to death in Canady. Why should we +fight to save they Frenchies?" + +Uncle grinned and chuckled. + +"Ah-h-h! I've a notion about that. I told 'un to the old Captain, and he +said 'twas a very notable remark. Fight we shall and must to save our +own souls and bodies." + +George opened a wide mouth; his mother laughed scornfully. + +"Never heard o' the British Fleet, I suppose?" + +Uncle smiled. Such a smile might have been seen upon the face of Ulysses +after his wanderings, when Penelope asked foolish question. + +"Mother, I've seen they mighty ships o' war, which is what you can't +brag on. But more'n our Fleet were wanted afore, in the days o' +Bonaparty, and will be again. You mind that bit o' pork, and leave young +Garge to me." + +He gave undivided attention to George; the pleasant smile faded from his +face. His likeness to his sister came out. + +"Be you afeard, Garge?" + +George pulled himself together. + +"I be bold as brass, except wi' maids." + +"That any son o' mine should own up to that! Afeard wi' maids! What a +gert booby! I be afeard _for_ maids, if so be as they Proosians come +rampin' into France. And 'tis true they be over the line a'ready." + +"How do 'ee know that?" asked his wife. + +"Never you mind, Mother. I picks up my information as you does, here and +there. I told Master Lionel as how France was invaded, and he gave me +half-a-crown, he did." + +Uncle produced the half-crown as confirmation strong. George was much +impressed. + +"You earns money in wondersome ways, Father." + +"I do. Now, Garge, I tell 'ee, fair and square, the likes o' you'll be +wanted bad, and, mark my words, my lad, if you don't go willin' they'll +take 'ee whether or no. I forgot to mention it to Master Lionel, but +talk o' conscription be in the air." + +"Stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Mucklow. + +Uncle, fully alive to the advantage of leaving people to chew the cud of +his wisdom, went outside to smoke a pipe before supper. He walked down +the village street, carrying a high head and assuming the port of Mars. +Bugles sounded in his ears, and the steady tramp of marching men. He had +picked up the significant and terrifying word "conscription" from +Captain Davenant, who asked for nothing better. Uncle had agreed with +the Captain heartily, being very sensible of what drill had accomplished +for himself, much as he hated it at the time. He thought of George as +clay to the hand of a sergeant, not as cannon fodder. "Afeard wi' +maids!" What a confession! + +He was not in the mood to engage others in talk, lumping all his +neighbours together as a flock of silly snivelling sheep, sadly in need +of a shepherd. For the first time in his life he paid the penalty of +being a prophet, and felt strangely alone and unhonoured. + +Suddenly he bethought him of his sister Susan. He had half-an-hour to +spare before supper. She would be busy in her kitchen, but never too +busy to exchange a word with him. Alfred would be still on the road. He +strode along more briskly. Susan was the one person living with whom +Uncle was really himself, at best or worst a very simple, +straightforward soul. He had never posed before her and--what a tribute +to her character!--in her rather austere presence he avoided those +whimsical perversions of the truth which so exasperated his wife. To a +woman of brains he bowed the knee. Also, he was gratefully aware of +Susan's enduring affection for him. + +He wondered how she would take his news, for news it would be, that the +Squire and Master Lionel were grimly confronting the certainty of +England declaring war upon Germany. Susan read her _Daily Mail_, but not +with any great faith in what newspaper men said. Having a singularly +retentive memory, she prided herself upon collating contradictory +statements made by irresponsible writers. Such critical powers were not +exercised upon the Bible. Apparent discrepancies in the Holy Book could +be, and were (so she held) reconciled by surpliced commentators. + +Susan, so Uncle reflected, would deal out strong doses of commonsense, +which her brother, after due absorption, could in his turn distribute +generously amongst the weak-kneed. There were moments when pity for his +fellow-men overbrimmed in Uncle's heart, and filled him with an +amorphous, inherent melancholy. He could rise to giddy heights of mirth +and fall from them into unplumbed depths of depression. Susan, as he +knew, stood solidly between these extremes. + +He was in the melancholy mood when he entered her kitchen. + +"Well, Susan, there be a nice bit o' pork frizzlin' in our oven, but I +be in sore need o' spiritual nourishment." + +"Whatever ails 'ee, Habakkuk?" + +"'Tis the crool thought o' weepin' maids and mothers throughout the +land, as robs me o' my appetite." + +For the moment Uncle spoke with absolute sincerity. The thought of a +nation in mourning had not entered his mind till he crossed the +threshold of the Yellam cottage. But he accepted it as illuminating. +And, instantly, his imagination draped the idea in deepest crêpe. + +"Be you speaking o' French maids and mothers?" + +"Being the man I am, I counts 'em all in wi' us. 'Tis cut-and-dried, as +the saying goes. Old England takes the field." + +Susan Yellam said drily: + +"Old England takes the field. Well, dearie, you take a chair and tell us +all about it." + +Incredulity was written plain upon her face. Uncle opened fire at +point-blank range. + +"Sir Gaffrey says so, Susan. Master Lionel be hot-foot for Winchester, +to drill recruities." + +The shot went home. Mrs. Yellam's florid face paled. She had +deliberately put from her the dreadful possibility. But if Sir Geoffrey +said so, it was so. The blood left her face, because her first thought +had been for the gracious lady of the Manor, and the young wife, two +women very dear to her. As the colour came back to her cheeks, she +reflected that she, personally, was not involved in these fearful +issues. Mr. Lionel was a professional soldier. Wife or no wife, a +Pomfret would do his duty. England's army might have to fight side by +side with the French, and England's army was invincible. + +She said gravely: + +"We be in God A'mighty's hands." + +Uncle sat down, assuming a funereal expression which sat oddly upon his +somewhat comical countenance. He did not share his sister's faith in an +All-wise and Merciful Providence. Strong ale, perhaps, had weakened it, +and over-indulgence in flesh-pots. But he dared not contradict his +sister. + +He fired another shot. + +"Captain Davenant be sartain sure that our noble army be too small for +such a tremenjous affair. He goes further than that, Susan. I wouldn't +deceive 'ee or try to frighten 'ee for a barrel o' ale, but he be +flustratingly positive that we be drawn into the bloodiest war as never +was, and he do say that God A'mighty fights on the side o' the biggest +army. His tarr'ble words, Susan, not mine. There be millions o' +Proosians marchin' into France this very day, and the Captain says they +Frenchies bain't ready for 'em." + +He expected a cooling stream of comfort and a rebuttal of what the +Captain said. If anybody could stand up against so redoubtable a +personage it would be Susan Yellam. She said slowly: + +"The Captain says that our army be too small! The King'll have to call +for--millions?" + +Uncle nodded dolorously. To his utter amazement and confounding, Susan +raised her apron, and covered her face with it. + +The abomination of coming desolation overwhelmed both of them. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +FIRST IMPRESSIONS + + +Uncle was quick, like all practised orators, to realise the effect of +his words not only upon a sister, but upon himself. He emerged from the +depths, as a swimmer after a dive, shaking his head and opening his +mouth to the ambient air. A happy thought occurred to him. + +"Susan," he said, in a more cheerful voice, "I be mazed as you be, but +things bain't so dark as they seem, and I've Squire's own word for it +that figures lie to beat Satan hisself." + +Mrs. Yellam looked at him interrogatively. + +"I be allers, so to speak, a very calkilatin' man, rampaged by Fortin +into makin' sixpence do duty for a shillin'. Now, I asks you this, and I +means to put the question, fair and square, to Captain Davenant +to-morrer marning. 'Tis a common saying that one Englishman be so good +as ten Frenchies in a stand-up fight. That be a very comfortsome +thought, old girl." + +"Which I don't hold wi', for one." + +"Don't 'ee? I wager the half-crown Master Lionel gi' me that you be the +equal o' ten Frenchwomen, and, old as I be, I'd fair scorn to turn back +on any 'arf-dozen furriners. If so be as my calkilatin' ain't out o' +whack, our noble army o' two hundred thousand valiant souls be more'n +equal o' two million Frenchies. And, if that be so, the Germans be up +agen four millions in all. Leastways, if I bain't out in my figurin'." + +Mrs. Yellam smiled faintly. + +"Your figures, Habakkuk, be Satan's figures. I allows that one true +Englishman can down three Frenchies, not more. Men'll be wanted--and +soon." + +Uncle remarked mournfully: + +"Such talk takes away my appetite for cracklin'. I go my ways, dear, +leavin' this mossel o' comfort behind me: they won't be askin' for +widows' only sons. Good-night to 'ee." + +After Uncle's departure Mrs. Yellam busied herself with her work, +pausing now and again to sigh deeply. If Sir Geoffrey Pomfret said that +England was coming in, why, England was in. A doubtful hypothesis became +certainty. And some widows' sons, if she knew her countrymen, would +fight for England, tooth and nail, even if they were not directly asked +to do so. + +Presently Alfred appeared, sharp-set after a good day's business. He +repeated the gossip of the market-place. Russia was going to surprise +the world. England must come in. A greengrocer, on intimate terms with a +lady of quality, had told him as a secret that the Guards were already +embarking for Belgium. Alfred concluded cheerfully: + +"In Salisbury, Mother, 'tis agreed that six weeks'll see the end on't." + +"Captain Davenant be talkin' o' conscription, Alferd." + +"Let him talk. He's a sour man. I put my faith in God Almighty, not in +the likes of him." + +"Ah-h-h!" + +"I say to myself, in all Christian humility, that God Almighty in His +wisdom is fair fed up with the Proosians. Such talk as they use, all +spitting and choking, is quite enough to sicken ordinary folks. 'Tis the +swelled head that this Kayser has. However, wiser men prophesy a rare +uplifting move in trade." + +"Alferd--don't talk o' that. 'Tis more than I can bear to hear o' folks +makin' money out o' the miseries o' others." + +He stared at her, noticing at last her drawn expression. + +"You ain't got the headache, Mother?" + +"No." + +"Wouldn't own up to it, if you had. Something's gnawing at you." + +Very gravely she told him about the young Squire. Alfred's face fell, +thinking of Joyce Pomfret, and then of Fancy. What would that pretty +dear be feeling, if her Alfred was on the march? The light faded from +his rubicund face. Till that moment the possibility of going had never +occurred to him. If England did take a hand in the mighty game, surely +her Army and Fleet would suffice for all eventualities. Suddenly, he +banged the table with his clenched fist, startling his mother. + +"Alferd--!" she exclaimed irritably. + +Alfred hastened to apologise. A confounding thought had begotten a +thoughtless action. He said earnestly: + +"Fancy is a oner for telling fortunes with cards." + +Mrs. Yellam frowned. Cards she held to be playthings of Satan, expressly +invented by him together with strong drink and bad women. Alfred +continued hastily: + +"A lady in Salisbury, real quality, Mother, told Fancy's fortune." + +"Did she? Better be using her needle, I says." + +"No doubt. 'Tis a very odd thing, and food for sober thought, but the +lady did foretell as Fancy'd marry a soldier." + +"A very foolish, mischievous notion to put i' the maid's head." + +Alfred nodded. Then he said portentously: + +"It might come true, Mother, if the pessimists be right." + +"Pessimists?" + +"'Tis a new word to me, and means--crokers, as looks on the dark side of +the cloud." + +"Well, what do they tell 'ee?" + +"'Twas a solitary he. A shoemaker by trade, and a radical. The smell of +leather be enough to account for his politics and gloomy views. When I +take shoes to him, we always pass time o' day, and I come away thinking +'tis just before dawn on a cold, drizzling, November morning. He says to +me: 'My lad, these Proosians may be drinking ale in Salisbury before +this war's over.' I laughed at him. And he told me I'd laugh t'other +side of my face in six months." + +Mrs. Yellam made no comment, a strange abstention. Her firm jaws set +beneath strongly-marked brows, her eyes glowered into the future. Mother +and son finished the meal in silence. + +These things were talked over on Monday, the 2nd of August. + +On the Wednesday all England knew that we were at war with Germany. + +The first effect of this stupendous happening was comical. The banks +were closed; many people found themselves without money and unable to +borrow it. Fishpingle, the bailiff at the Home Farm, had to lend Lionel +Pomfret five pounds to take him to Winchester. Some pessimists predicted +a financial panic. The foreign stock exchanges transacted no business. +All this affected Nether-Applewhite but mildly; tongues wagged a little +faster than usual; very few believed that an Expeditionary Force would +be sent to France. Sir Geoffrey Pomfret walked down to the village and +talked with his people. His jolly face and hearty voice indicated +immense relief. He--and thousands like him--had been tormented by the +fear that a nation stigmatised as shopkeepers would place self-interest +before honour. He writhed when he recalled the cynical gibe of the +Russian to England's ambassador at a time when England did "keep out." +Old Captain Davenant and the Squire were types of men whom the more +Radical press derided as reactionary and fire-eaters. Let the verdict of +history speak for such after the war. Few, to-day, will deny that the +privileged classes with most at stake stood shoulder to shoulder in +their determination to scrap everything except scraps of paper bearing +England's sign-manual. + +The villagers listened agape to Sir Geoffrey and Captain Davenant. Then +each went his way perfectly satisfied that others would dance to war's +pipings and alarums, whilst they "carried on" as before. + +Old Gilbert Parish, a great-granfer, was convinced that war had been +declared with the hereditary foe. He asked Mr. Hamlin shrilly, holding +hand to ear: + +"What I wants to know, Pa'son, be this--whatever shall we do wi' they +Frenchies when us have beat'h 'em?" + +Mr. Hamlin answered gravely: "I suppose we shall have to eat them, +Master Gilbert." + +The nonagenarian displayed toothless gums. + +"Ah-h-h! That's what the Dook said at Waterloo. 'Up, Guards, and eat +'en,' he says. _And they did!_" + +"Was you there, Granfer, on that notable day?" asked a bystander. + +The old fellow cackled joyously. + +"'Tis so far back along, I disremembers. To speak sober truth, my lad, +the Dook won that gert battle wi'out me. 'Tis a fact beyond gainsayin' +that I be here, and hale and hearty, because, maybe, I was not there." + +His humour so tickled him that he hobbled forthwith to the _Sir John +Barleycorn_ to wet a still serviceable whistle. Many followed his +example; the two taverns sold much ale. + +In a miraculously short time village life ambled on as before. The small +boys played at soldiers; some of the more prescient mothers laid in +stores. Lionel Pomfret returned from Winchester with the assurance, hot +from the mouth of the officer commanding the dépôt, that every regular +would be sent abroad. The Squire was absorbed in the details. Each +officer would be allowed thirty pounds of kit, such kit to be snugly +packed in a pale-green carry-all. It comprised one change, two blankets, +a few surgical dressings, a folding-lamp, a pair of wire-cutters, and +under-linen. The Territorials and Yeomanry would defend our shores. +According to experts, invasion might be deemed practicable, if unlikely. +Next day Lionel went to London, to the War Office. He came back with a +Captain's commission. + +The Government had taken over the railroads, and, at first, trains were +inconveniently belated. Liège was covering herself with imperishable +glory, holding up hordes of Germans. In the rural districts the +comforting impression prevailed that the All-Highest War Lord had gone +stark, staring mad, and that a peace-loving nation would kick him and +his out of the country. Hamlin, reading feverishly papers and reviews, +neglecting, for the first time in his life, parochial duties, rejoiced +in the premature conclusion that there burned no hate in English hearts +against the German people to whom civilisation owed so much. He +adumbrated peace before Christmas, and believed that a world-war would +end war. For a parish priest, he might be reckoned, intellectually, far +above the average. Men of keener and bigger brains shared his views. Sir +Geoffrey Pomfret, as might be expected, thought otherwise. There is no +pessimist like your optimist when he finds that the prognostications of +his less robust moments have come to pass. He said almost truculently to +his wife: + +"It is some comfort to reflect, my dear Mary, that _we_ were right, and +all these axe-grinding demagogues wrong. I could hang Haldane with my +own hand. And I feel in my bones that this is going to be a long +business--a full year at least." + +The Squire was sorely taken aback, when Lord Kitchener trebled this +estimate. He cursed politicians of his own party when Namur fell. +Indeed, he blamed politicians and publicists of every colour and creed, +pinning his faith to Army and Navy, sorely disgruntled with the Foreign +Office and the Diplomatic Service. No more unhappy man gazed across his +broad acres wondering miserably whether they would be his in three +years' time. + +There ensued, as will be remembered, an amazing epidemic of national +apathy, which aroused trenchant criticism in neutral countries. People +bought maps and pins, and forgot to move the pins. Small things became +again of paramount importance. The King had demanded half a million more +regulars. But business went on as usual. A famous scribe has chronicled +the supreme event of this transition period. Carpentier defeated +Bombadier Wells! Possibly, the general indifference, an indifference +largely due to ignorance, was superficial. It is significant that +thousands of holiday-makers returned quietly to their own homes. + +Lionel Pomfret and his wife moved to Winchester, where Lionel was kept +busy at the dépôt. For the moment, his own battalion of the Rifle +Brigade was in India. Another battalion had joined the Expeditionary +Force. Lionel might be called upon to join it at twenty-four hours' +notice. Joyce Pomfret, his wife, perceived that he wanted to do so. + +An American, with the liveliest powers of observation, visiting +Nether-Applewhite, and talking, let us say, to Mrs. Yellam and Fancy, +would have gone away convinced that both these women, each the +antithesis of the other, were unconcerned with the war. Really the +thought of it obsessed them night and day. But they rarely spoke of it. +Mrs. Yellam deliberately put from her the possibility of losing her son, +partly because she had a positive assurance from the Parson that Alfred, +as a public carrier, would be exempted from military service if +conscription became necessary, and partly because the fact that she +tended four graves in the churchyard must surely be taken into account +by an All-wise and Merciful Providence. Like most of us, she had +constructed her own particular statute of limitations and liabilities. +She had endured more than her proper share of bludgeonings. Accordingly, +her mind dwelt upon the war as affecting others. She grieved for Lady +Pomfret and the Squire. If Master Lionel were taken--! The only son and +heir to such a fine property--! + +Fancy, sister of a beloved brother serving in a battleship, fell a prey +to more intimate and poignant considerations. As the child of a delicate +mother who had died in giving her birth, pre-natal influence, perhaps, +had endowed her with sensibilities common to all women who are +physically weaker than they should be, with minds and imaginations more +active than their bodies. From her tenderest years Fancy had indulged in +meditations concerning angels. Her father habitually spoke of his wife +as an angel hovering close to one whom she had never held in her arms. +Fancy believed him absolutely. Darkness had no terrors for the child, +when she went to bed, because, in addition to her mother, the four +evangelists guarded her cot. She was quite positive that she had seen +her mother, clothed in shining tissues, with wings like a dove. Matthew, +Mark, Luke and John became personal friends with whom the mite affirmed +solemnly that she talked and played. Her father, a dreamer rather than a +doer, encouraged these fancies, which justified his selection of her +Christian name in obstinate defiance of the wishes of his family. + +The first effect of the war upon Fancy, apart from her sisterly +anxieties, was a tightening of the bond between master and maid. Mr. +Hamlin held strong democratic opinions, a source of friction between +himself and Sir Geoffrey Pomfret. He desired ardently a more equable +distribution, not merely of wealth, but of health and intelligence. He +believed absolutely in the equality of souls before God, and he +recognised with ever-increasing satisfaction the potentialities of +bodies and minds, if taken in hand early in life. His disabilities as a +teacher shewed themselves in a too direct manner of speech, an +abruptness caused by an excess rather than a lack of sympathy and +perception. As Man and Priest, he shunned those easy by-paths beloved by +many of us when we have disagreeable duties to perform. He marched +straight to his objectives, regardless of objections. + +At first sight, Mr. Hamlin recognised in his parlourmaid qualities of +which she herself was delightfully unconscious. As parson of a country +parish which outwardly and inwardly had changed but little since the +eighteenth century, he had fought desperately against the mental and +spiritual apathy of his flock, seizing any weapon that lay to his hand. +He worked with people for people, using Peter to convert Paul, +constantly disappointed but rarely discouraged. He had been offered +preferment; his sermons challenged interest outside Nether-Applewhite +but he had no personal ambition beyond the consuming desire to help +those whom he knew and loved to help themselves. Sir Geoffrey Pomfret +supported him in this, but Parson and Squire worked upon diametrically +opposing lines. All the instincts of the lord of the manor were +protective. To that end he had made and was prepared to go on making +personal sacrifices of leisure, pleasure and money. According to Hamlin, +this encouraged helplessness and ignorance. Poverty held out eager hands +for doles, displaying that comical form of gratitude which has been +defined as a lively sense of favours to come. + +Hamlin, in common with most sincere reformers, divided the world into +two classes--the helpers and hinderers. Between these lay, of course, a +No Man's Land, where each class wandered aimlessly; the helpers, like +the Squire, became hinderers and hinderers, like Uncle, might become, +unexpectedly, helpers. Fancy, he acclaimed as a helper in or out of the +debateable territory. Insensibly, her refinement and modesty would raise +the tone in his kitchen, and radiate purer beams from a house hospitably +accessible to all his congregation. From time to time, when he was alone +at meals, he would ask the maid odd questions, and listen attentively to +her replies. Such questions were disconcerting to Fancy, but, as was +intended, they provoked intelligence to answer them. Ever since +ordination, Hamlin had realised the almost insuperable barriers +interposed by tradition, by training, by a thousand and one conditions +and consequences, between the privileged and unprivileged classes. From +the first he had set himself the task of breaking down such barriers. He +candidly admitted that most of his parishioners were liars and +hypocrites when it came to dealing with them frankly as between man and +man, and still more so as between man and woman. They said, +respectfully, what each felt that the Parson wished them to say, +repeating the old shibboleths and sesames which opened, possibly, purses +but not hearts. + +After the fall of Namur, he said to Fancy: + +"Do you feel patriotic?" + +The question of patriotism had been raised (and not laid) by a publicist +in one of the current reviews, but the writer had presented a point of +view coloured and discoloured by intimate knowledge of industrial +England. He had not touched upon his theme as it affected the rural +districts. + +"I hope so, sir," replied Fancy. + +"How far, I wonder, would your patriotism carry you?" + +He knew that Fancy was engaged to Alfred Yellam, and had congratulated +her sincerely. He knew, also, that she had no intention of getting +married for some time to come. + +Fancy stood at attention, much perplexed, but flattered. She had wit +enough to realise that her master put the question in certain faith that +she would endeavour to answer it truthfully. + +"I can't tell," she faltered. "Sounds silly, don't it, sir?" + +"Not at all. I am wondering how far my patriotism would carry me. What +is patriotism, Fancy?" + +"Love of country, sir." + +"Why do we feel it?" + +His keen eyes rested quietly on hers. + +Fancy grappled with this, struggling to rise adequately to the occasion. + +"I suppose 'tis gratitude, sir." + +"Good. But gratitude is imponderable." For an instant he had forgotten +that he was talking to his parlourmaid. Beholding a wrinkle, he said +quickly: "I mean, that gratitude is not easy to weigh or measure. It is +immense," he smiled at her, "when it marches hand in hand with +self-interest. It shrinks horribly when self-interest marches or runs in +the opposite direction. Do you follow me?" + +"Yes, sir; thank you, sir." + +"Don't thank me," he said, with a touch of irritation. He continued +quietly: "We must all try to weigh our patriotism, because every one of +us will be asked to exercise it. Leaving out the men able to bear arms, +I am thinking for the moment of the women, young and old. An immense +burden is about to be imposed on them. That is why I am speaking to you. +I held the mistaken view that this war would soon be over. But it is +plain that we are fighting an enemy overwhelmingly strong, who is +setting all laws, human and divine, at defiance. I want to measure our +patriotism, my own, yours, everybody's; but I do so in fear and +trembling." + +Fancy, outwardly calm, presenting the impassive mask of the well-trained +servant, became conscious of tingling and throbbing pulses. A strong man +appeals most strenuously to the sympathy of a woman, when he permits her +to have a glimpse of his weakness. She spoke impulsively, quite +forgetting her "place," as she told herself afterwards. + +"You be thinking of Mr. Edward." + +It was a flash of intuition. + +The Parson had four stout sons, but Teddy, the youngest, was his +Benjamin. Teddy and Joyce had inherited from Mrs. Hamlin joyous +temperaments. The other sons resembled their father. All of them were +"doing well" in a worldly sense. The eldest was a don at Cambridge, +Fellow and Tutor of his College. The others were in business, climbing +hand over hand the commercial ladder. Teddy, with not so good a start as +his brothers, had entered the Railway Service. Since Fancy's arrival at +the Vicarage he had spent a too short holiday at home. His jolly, +unaffected ways captivated Fancy instantly. Life, as the maids put it, +entered a dull house and filled it with sunshine. Teddy brought with him +to Nether-Applewhite wonderful news. He had been offered and had +accepted a billet worth four hundred a year--startling advancement for +so young a man. His unaffected joy in his own good fortune warmed all +sympathetic hearts. + +The Parson looked up sharply. + +"Yes," he answered curtly. He had finished breakfast, but still sat at +table. Fancy saw that he was nervously crumbling a small piece of bread. + +"But Mr. Edward won't have to go, sir." + +Hamlin hesitated. But, inviting confidence, he was not the man to +withhold it churlishly. He said slowly: + +"Between ourselves, Fancy, Mr. Edward wishes to go. I have a letter from +him this morning, asking for my advice on the subject. It means, for him +and me, a great sacrifice." + +Fancy gasped. + +"Oh, dear! You'll never let him go--surely?" + +Hamlin rose, a tall, gaunt figure. + +"My patriotism," he said grimly, "is not quite so lively, Fancy, as it +was last night." + +He went out of the room. Fancy began to clear away the breakfast things, +much troubled, sorely perplexed, alive to her finger-tips with the +dismal consciousness that life had become suddenly confoundingly +difficult. If Alfred took a notion to enlist, and if he consulted her +about it, as surely he would, to what sort of strain would her +patriotism be subjected? She, too, approached the question in fear and +trembling. At the moment "things," as she vaguely expressed it, were +going better and better for Alfred. War seemed to have oiled all +commercial wheels. On Sundays her happy swain soared into an empyrean of +prosperity and opulence where he sat enthroned high above her, talking +exuberantly of a future she dared not envisage. The good fellow assured +her that the Germans would soon be on the run, with English sabres +hewing them down, with English bayonets in their fat backs. Would such a +man, travelling at excess speed into Tom Tiddler's Ground, fingering +daily larger and ever larger pieces of silver and gold, stop suddenly +and abandon everything? + +He might. + +If patriotism seized him, as it had seized Mr. Edward, the strangling +grip would choke ambition, self-interest, and woman's love. + +She told herself miserably that Mr. Edward would go. More, his father +would not raise a finger to stop him. As the Parson left the +dining-room, she guessed that his decision had been made already. + +Within a week it became common knowledge in the village that Mr. Edward +Hamlin had enlisted in the Guards. He would appear amongst his father's +parishioners in a private's kit, and salute respectfully his old friend, +Captain Pomfret. + +He was the first "gentleman" in those parts to relinquish fortune at the +call of duty. And his shining example, so his father perceived, had +moved mountains of too solid flesh. As yet the great recruiting campaign +had not begun. + +Two days afterwards George Mucklow followed the parson's son into the +ranks. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +SECOND IMPRESSIONS + + +August--with its stupefying surprises, disappointments, and +acrimonies--drew to a close. The black Sunday, at the end of the month, +will never be forgotten by those who happened to be in London at the +time. For a few terrible hours it was said that our Expeditionary Force +had been annihilated. In the evening an official contradiction lifted +the town out of a pea-soup fog of despair. + +Day by day, the Hun hordes advanced. Sir Geoffrey devoured his morning +papers, talked over the immeasurable possibilities with his wife and +Fishpingle, and finally determined to tap fresh information at its +source. He went up to London, spent three days at his clubs, and +returned to Nether-Applewhite an angry and disillusioned man. Having +many friends in high places, some of them old schoolfellows and kinsmen, +who had become pale and anxious Cabinet Ministers, he buttonholed them +all, demanding the truth in his jovial, autocratic fashion. + +"A damned lot of Mandarins," he told his wife, "nodding their confounded +heads and saying nothing. At the club, by Jove! I felt as if I were in a +submarine with the periscope shot away. Every other fellow I met was +'credibly informed' about something or t'other, and I could have made a +pot of money, my dear, laying odds against their precious bits of +information. The Government is scared stiff, at the mercy of the +Labourites. Out of the welter of talk and twaddle I collared this +conviction: the England we love has vanished never to return. Kitchener +says that we shall be bled white, and the best will be the first to go." + +Lady Pomfret smiled faintly. + +"George Mucklow has gone." + +"Has he? I shall give Uncle a sovereign. Now, Mary, sick as I feel about +the incompetence and crass stupidity of the people who have got us into +this mess, I shall carry a stiff tail in the village." + +"I am sure you will, dear." + +"Yes. I asked 'em at the War Office what I could do. Get recruits, they +told me. I shall mug up a lecture, dealing with military terminology. My +people don't know the difference between a brigade and an army-corps. +Coming down in the train, I thought out some useful diagrams. And, Mary, +unless a miracle happens, the slaughter will be appalling. We must turn +our dear old house into a Red Cross Hospital." + +"I had thought of that, Geoffrey. We are quite ready." + +"Get your staff together, a competent, professional nurse, and the pick +of the women in the village." + +"Susan Yellam has promised to help." + +"None better! The sooner we get to work and stop jawing and fuddling our +wits over newspapers, the less miserable we shall be." + +"Yes, yes." + +After dinner, the autocrat of Nether-Applewhite felt less unhappy. + +Upon the following morning, bright and early, Squire and Parson put +their heads together at the Vicarage. Since the marriage of Hamlin's +daughter to Lionel Pomfret, the somewhat strained relations between the +two fathers had pleasantly relaxed. Hamlin had this advantage over the +Squire. He could see and understand the autocrat's lordly point of view. +The Squire was, and always would be, incapable of standing in the +Parson's shoes. Possibly, the war had modified their extreme opinions. +The Squire read and approved the leading articles in _The Morning Post_; +the Parson read omnivorously papers and reviews, but he would have +admitted candidly that _The Westminster Gazette_ embodied most +accurately his ideas and judgments. + +Both men were uncomfortably conscious that grave blunders had been +perpetrated by Authority. + +When they had lit their after-breakfast pipes, Sir Geoffrey laid before +Hamlin a synopsis of what he had gleaned in London, and his impressions +thereon, but he spoke temperately, perceiving whimsical gleams in his +Parson's eyes. + +"A lot of fools believe that Russians are pouring through this country. +An old pal and myself tried to investigate on our own. We went to +Euston. By Jove! we dropped on to a porter who swore that he'd seen +thousands of 'em passing through Willesden, big bearded men in queer +uniforms, at dead o' night. To show the ignorance of these fellows, +Hamlin, I'll repeat to you what was said in answer to my questions. The +porter affirmed positively that he had seen six hundred thousand of 'em! +_Six hundred thousand!_ I asked him, then, if he knew how many soldiers +could be packed into one train. He scratched his head at that. Finally, +he admitted that he could swear to three trains full of these bearded +warriors. When I told him, as an old soldier, that three trains might +carry three thousand troops he absquatulated. A man at the War Office, +whose name I can't mention, told me, next day, that no Russians from +Russia were passing through England. A few, coming from America to +Russia, have aroused this ridiculous gossip." + +Hamlin nodded. + +"I told my wife last night that knowledge is simply unachievable, +because the biggest men don't know yet the temper of the country. Nobody +knows. But I'll tell you this: the Government is afraid of the +Industrials, terrified of strikes, terrified of Ireland, terrified, of +course, of being kicked out. A sort of mental palsy has 'em by the +throat. They are putting out feelers, tentatively approaching everybody. +It's a sorry business. The bright spot is the response from our +Colonies; India is behaving well. That must be a rare sell for the +Kayser. Well, well; I've let off a little steam. Let's consider +ourselves and what we can do. Men must be got. In this village your dear +boy has set a glorious example." + +"George Mucklow enlisted three days ago." + +"So my wife tells me. I propose to give a lecture in the school-house on +elementary military dispositions, so that our people will be able to +read their papers with some sort of intelligence." + +"They don't read papers--much." + +"I want you to fill the school-house for me." + +"With pleasure." + +"We shall open a Red Cross Hospital as soon as may be, at the Court." + +Hamlin promised cordial co-operation. He had never doubted the Squire's +willingness or capacity to "do his bit." And very mournfully he told +himself that, making due allowance for Sir Geoffrey's reactionary +sentiments and hatred of politicians the indictment brought by him +against the Mandarins was in the main justified. He said quietly: + +"Most of my considered judgments are in the melting-pot." + +"Bless my soul! I never expected to hear you say that. So are mine. The +main question for all of us is this: will the country rise to this +stupendous emergency? I suppose the mere mention of conscription gives +you a fit?" + +"I carry an open mind about it." + +"You amaze me, Hamlin. We were both 'blue-water school' men." + +"Yes. You use the past tense. I am humbly sensible that what I have felt +and acted upon, principles and theories essentially rooted in peace and +for peace, is of the past. I shall leave them there. The needs of the +present are obsessing." He paused a moment; when he spoke again his +voice held conviction: "Out of the darkness, I see light." + +Sir Geoffrey asked eagerly: + +"What light?" + +"The light of a happier civilisation, of a broader and more sympathetic +internationalism. The ashes of this conflagration may fertilise anew the +whole earth. It must be so." + +He had surprised Sir Geoffrey a moment back; it was the Squire's turn to +surprise him. Hamlin expected a wail from the many-acred lord of the +manor, a Jeremiad personal and embittered. Inevitably the men of large +estates, with little outside their domains to support them, must suffer +cruelly. It was difficult, indeed, to envisage the Squire of +Nether-Applewhite without his shooting and hunting, with a much-reduced +establishment, constrained to cheese-paring, entertaining wounded +Tommies instead of county magnates. Sir Geoffrey answered as humbly as +the Parson: + +"God send it may be so, Hamlin. This is a war between autocracy and +democracy; and I don't believe in democracies, as you know." + +Hamlin remained silent. The Squire continued, more vehemently: + +"Can you mention one country that is a democracy? Is America a +democracy?" + +"We shall know soon." + +"Is it a democracy to-day? Uncle Sam says so. But isn't America governed +by the few and for the few? Do you call France a democracy after the +revelations of this Caillaux trial? Are we a democracy, in the true +sense? Perhaps Switzerland comes nearer the standard mark, but I know +nothing about Switzerland. I have always distrusted profoundly the mob." + +"That may be at the root of the trouble. Distrust breeds distrust. If +this war should open all eyes, if men should learn to see each other as +they are--much alike in the mass--and not, not, as they blindly believe, +essentially different, why, then this war will not have been waged in +vain." + +Sir Geoffrey wrestled valiantly with these words. + +"I grope, Hamlin, I grope. It sounds humiliating when one is past +sixty." + +Hamlin nodded. He was groping, too, but he had greater faith in human +nature. He said hesitatingly: + +"The result of all wars, according to history, has been this: the poor +emerge poorer; the rich richer. I hope that it will not be so after this +world-war. And our energies should be directed to that end, Pomfret:--a +more generous distribution of material wealth, a happier understanding +between all classes, a breaking-down of barriers everywhere, not only as +between man and man, but as between nation and nation." + +Sir Geoffrey jumped up, holding out his hand. + +"You are a good fellow, Hamlin, sound at core. I have often misjudged +you in the past. Forgive me! The past, as we knew it, is dead. We will +work together in the present." + +Hamlin rose quickly, grasping the outstretched hand. After discussing +practical details concerning the lecture, they separated. The Squire +strode on to the village, much heartened. The Parson sat down at his +desk to write the Sunday morning sermon. For a time, he put no pen to +paper. He leaned head upon hand, thinking deeply. Out of the dump-heap +which was left of his pet theories, he tried to piece together some sort +of mosaic pavement upon which he could stand. It was difficult to +realise the change in himself, more difficult to realise the change in +the Squire. But the change had taken place. What would be the effect on +his parishioners? Who would help? Who would hinder? If this war meant +the regeneration and reconstruction of the world, all were involved. He +thought of the dead Pope, who had passed away without exciting a ripple +of excitement outside the Vatican. What part would his successor play? +Would the Church of England grasp a tremendous opportunity? Would the +Nonconformists gird up their loins for the spiritual battle? + +Consider Armageddon how he might and did, from every point of view which +presented itself to an active and prescient brain,--the material outlook +of diplomatists struggling to adjust the balance of European powers, of +monarchs gazing at tottering thrones, of politicians still grabbing +loaves and fishes, of business men thinking of their tills, of the rank +and file in all countries working apathetically for their daily +bread,--this thought rose up and dominated others. To him and men like +him, ardently concerned with the potentialities of souls, ordained +teachers of God's Word, called upon to interpret, so far as they could, +the mysterious designs of Omnipotence, the issues shone clearly forth. +Evil was arrayed against Good. The pomps and vanities of the world were +marshalled against the powers of the Spirit. + +And, in the end, the Spirit would triumph. + +He began his sermon. + +The Squire, meanwhile, was approaching the _Sir John Barleycorn_ tavern, +intending to have a word with William Saint, and, later on, with Susan +Yellam and others, whom he regarded as aides-de-camp. Not being a very +judicious reader of character, indolently disposed (because he was so +busy himself) to accept his own people as they appeared to be, he +regarded William Saint as a respectable, intelligent publican, who had +been an excellent servant as first footman at the Court. He counted upon +William as a likely "whipper-in" in the hunt for recruits. The Boniface +of the _Pomfret Arms_, the larger of the two Nether-Applewhite taverns, +happened to be stout and scant o' breath. He seldom stirred out of his +snug bar-parlour. William Saint scoured the countryside, a very +energetic, enterprising fellow. + +"Morning, William." + +"Good morning, Sir Geoffrey." + +The Squire removed his hat and wiped an ample brow. He had found Saint +in the sanded tap-room, overhauling supplies. He noted the man's drab +complexion, and wondered whether he consumed too much of his own beer. +The publican asked his old master deferentially if he would drink a +glass of ale. Time was when the Squire never refused such invitations. +To-day, he declined the ale, saying trenchantly: + +"No, no. We shall have to tighten our belts, William. Take my word for +it. You must reckon with being hit. We shall all be hit in our purses +and our stomachs." + +William Saint agreed politely. He had no intention of being hit in +either place, but he kept that to himself. Already he was secretly +enrolled amongst the would-be profiteers, and resolutely determined to +extract good from an ill wind. Sir Geoffrey stated the nature of his +errand. The village must set an example to less beatified hamlets, such +as Ocknell, for example. Did William think the younger men would come +forward with enthusiasm? William was doubtful about the enthusiasm. With +discreet pressure from Authority, they might be induced to follow the +example of George Mucklow. The Squire slapped his thigh. + +"I am very pleased with George Mucklow. A snug billet shall be kept for +him." + +William smiled, not very pleasantly. + +"His father, Sir Geoffrey, used pressure." + +"Did he, b'Jove? And very proper, too. Uncle is one of the right sort. +Even his weaknesses are endearing. The truth is, William, in such +damnable times as these we must keep an eye peeled for the good in our +fellow-men, and wink the other discreetly." + +Perhaps William profited by this advice, and winked the eye farthest +from Sir Geoffrey. After more conversation, dealing strictly with +recruiting methods to be applied to a community essentially +peace-loving, Sir Geoffrey walked off and on, very well satisfied with +his talk with an old servant. William apostrophised his diminishing +figure in language never printed nowadays. + +As the Squire walked down village he, too, like the Parson, thought +seriously of what he should say to his people when he met them in the +school-house. He was not concerned with spiritual issues. As a former +M.F.H., he went a-hunting recruits with the same ardour and resource +formerly consecrated to foxes. With profoundest sincerity he wished that +he were of an age to bear arms. Indeed, he had offered himself, as an +ex-Guardsman, quite ready to tackle a new drill-manual, to an old +schoolfellow, now a general at the War Office. Sound advice had been +tendered him. + +"You can serve your country, Pomfret, on your own pitch. We shall want +men and food. Food may become the more difficult problem." + +Hence the allusion to tightened belts. + +Sir Geoffrey walked briskly, reflecting complacently upon his excellent +physical condition. He might be slightly dazed in mind, but fit as a +fiddle in body. An odd expression that! What constituted a "fit" fiddle? +Obviously, an instrument tuned to the right pitch. He felt taut all +over. What had kept him fit at an age when many men of his acquaintance +were falling into the sere and yellow stage of life? Sport. To scrap +sport filled him with apprehension. So far, sport in England went on as +usual. When he visited Euston to make enquiries concerning Russians, he +had seen many cheery-looking fellows on their way north, bent on slaying +grouse and stags, reasonably convinced in their own simple minds that, +Germans or no Germans, the world must wag on as before. Sir Geoffrey was +not so optimistic. He knew much better. Already the supreme sacrifice of +an only son had been demanded of him and made instantly. Other +sacrifices bulked larger and larger in the immediate future. Standing in +his fine hall, with the portraits of dead-and-gone Pomfrets looking down +upon him, he had smelt anticipatingly the pungent odours of carbolic +acid and iodoform. The stately saloon must be turned into a ward--! The +mere thought was hateful, but he never flinched from it. Let the poor +boys come! He would welcome them with courtesy and geniality. A Mandarin +predicted a five-shilling-in-the-pound income tax! The Squire had +responded generously to the Prince of Wales's Fund. + +The situation could be summed up in one all-embracing word--Hell! + +Little girls curtsied, small boys touched their caps, as the Autocrat of +Nether-Applewhite passed them by with a kindly word and glance for each. +He reflected: "The little 'uns are out of it, bless 'em!" He wondered +whether respectful salutations would last his time. They were dear to +him, outward and visible signs of the respect paid to Authority. Would +they be scrapped? The Government had taken over the railroads. If the +Labourites came into power, the land might be grabbed ruthlessly. + +Sir Geoffrey walked less briskly, as the possibility obtruded itself. + +He stopped first at Uncle's cottage. Mrs. Mucklow received him. Uncle, +it appeared, was at work, thatching a dormer window, which exacted his +particular skill. Yes, George, poor boy, had gone for a soldier. His +father had insisted upon it. + +"Quite right," said the Squire heartily. + +Jane Mucklow sniffed. She dared not contradict the Squire, but a sour +face betrayed her feelings. The Squire laid a sovereign on the +mantelpiece, saying that it was for Uncle, with the donor's compliments. +Jane thanked him, wondering whether the piece of gold could be +despatched, surreptitiously, to George. Always, Uncle got credit for +what more deserving individuals accomplished. An exasperating thought! A +recital of her own aches and pains, however, provoked the promise of a +bottle of port. Sir Geoffrey shook hands with his former cook on +leaving, and said graciously: + +"Now, remember, Jane, if George gets leave and comes home, I want to see +him. Send him up to the Hall." + +"Thank you kindly, sir." + +Sir Geoffrey went his way. As he approached the Yellam cottage, he +muttered half audibly: + +"Good people. Good people." + +If he had known the truth--! At this moment Jane Mucklow was reviling +him, because she laid her George's approaching death at the Squire's +door. She made quite sure--and so did George--that he would be killed in +his first action. With much reluctance we present these two old servants +of the Autocrat smiling deferentially to his face and cursing him behind +his back! And he believed so absolutely in their honesty and sincerity. + +Five minutes later, Mrs. Yellam dusted a chair which needed no dusting. +The Squire sat down upon it. He liked and respected Susan Yellam, and +she--you may be sure--was well aware of that. No insincerity lurked +behind her welcoming smile. But, in justice to the unhappy Jane Mucklow, +it must be stated that Susan happened to be independent of the Autocrat. +Many times and oft had Uncle been "behindhand" with his rent. More than +once Sir Geoffrey had remitted that rent altogether, simply because +Uncle was so knowledgeable about foxes and deer, and such a +wrath-disarming scallywag even in his cups. Mrs. Yellam paid her rent +punctually, and possessed independent means. She had never been in +service. She exercised brains, rare in any village, which enabled her to +apprehend something withheld from the unprivileged classes, to +wit:--that position carried with it crushing responsibilities and +disabilities. Mr. Fishpingle, so near and dear to Sir Geoffrey, a friend +and servant of fifty years, had often pointed out to her the sacrifices +made by the Squire for his people. And she had kept eyes and ears open +to these, deducing inferences from them. + +For some minutes Sir Geoffrey talked about the Red Cross Hospital, +enlisting Susan's sympathies. Co-operation had been promised already to +Lady Pomfret. + +"My lady be none too strong," observed Mrs. Yellam. + +The Squire was not of Mrs. Yellam's opinion, but he didn't say so. He +mentioned his proposed lecture, and solemnly invited her considered +views on the recruiting campaign. She was not enthusiastic. + +"Be they wanted real bad, Sir Geoffrey?" + +"Of course they are." + +"Wanted as soldiers more than they be wanted on the land?" + +The Squire frowned. He had not weighed the pros and cons of a question +hardly raised as yet even by far-seeing men. + +"Lord Kitchener asks for them." + +"I be afeard they'll hang back. 'Tain't easy to believe that us is at +war. My Alferd be doing wonnerful well; trade stimulated as never was." + +"I hear that Alfred is engaged to be married. Tell me all about it." + +At such moments the Squire was at his best, keenly interested, avid for +details, always ready to assume sponsorial obligations for the unborn, +and promising five pounds if the little strangers appeared in couples. +Mrs. Yellam spoke of Fancy. + +"Bless my soul! She opened the Vicarage door to me this morning. A very +pretty girl, on the thin side, but modest and intelligent. I shall +congratulate her. Your Alfred is a very sterling fellow. He deserves the +right sort of wife. By the way, we shan't want him. You can tell him so +from me." + +Mrs. Yellam said gravely: + +"Alferd be my only son, and I tells him that others should go first." + +"Um! What does he say to that?" + +"Nothing--not a word." + +"Well, Susan, I want Alfred to help me. As a carrier he is constantly +meeting young men and young women. Let him talk to both." + +"Yes, Sir Geoffrey. Alferd be a very forcible man, wi' plenty o' brave +words and thoughts. Certainly this war be a marrer-stirring affair. I +hopes as how Master Lionel be enjoyin' good health, and his dear lady?" + +Sir Geoffrey chuckled. + +"Captain, Susan, Captain. And only yesterday, I remember, he came +sneaking in here, always sure of a bull's-eye." He glanced at his watch. +"Time, confound it, is always hurrying on. I'm due at the Home Farm. +Before I go, one word in your faithful ear. It will travel no further +for the present, hey?" + +"You knows that, Sir Geoffrey." + +They both stood up, a fine couple. The Squire patted Mrs. Yellam's +substantial shoulder. Then he lowered his jolly voice: + +"You asked about Mrs. Pomfret. After Christmas I am expecting the sort +of present I want badly. You understand----?" + +"Lard bless 'ee, Sir Geoffrey, and her too. Tis gert news." + +"Isn't it? But mum's the word!" + +He went on to the Home Farm, whither we need not follow him. But it may +be added, incidentally, that the translation of Benoni Fishpingle from +the position of butler at Pomfret Court to the more responsible post of +Bailiff had worked greatly to the Squire's advantage and happiness. He +returned home to luncheon in reasonably high spirits, having prodded the +sides of many fat bullocks. He found Lady Pomfret on the terrace facing +the park. From her face he divined instantly that something of +importance had happened. She came up to him, with her slow, measured +walk, holding out a telegram. It was from Lionel. + +"Expect Joyce and me to-night. I go to France this day week." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +RECRUITING + + +The Squire's lecture was an immense success. The village school-house +overbrimmed with his "people." With a big blackboard behind him, and +chalk in hand, the lecturer talked simply and convincingly upon a +subject at that time unfamiliar to his audience, a subject vital to any +understanding of military movements. He explained the nature of +platoons, companies, battalions, brigades, divisions and army corps. He +presented, in short, an army in being. Loud applause greeted this first +half of the lecture. The second half was devoted to the urgent cause of +recruiting, and was not, perhaps, quite so enthusiastically acclaimed. +The Squire, abandoning chalk and blackboard, thrust his hands in his +pockets, and spoke trenchantly. We need not chronicle what he said. Men +like him, all over the country, used the same arguments, almost exactly +the same words. Such speakers forgot what had been said by Tweedledum +and Tweedledee during the piping times of peace. Men and women, herded +together, were invited to scrap the slow judgments and convictions of +their lives. They had been assured again and again by politicians of +variegated complexions that a mighty navy was fully adequate to defend +our Empire against attack. Need it be added that such assurance, +embodying as it did the accumulated wisdom and experience of +generations, could not be cast incontinently as rubbish to the void. +English politicians--using the word in the strongest antithesis to +statesmen--have never realised the temper of the country towards +themselves, the curious and striking indifference of the average man, +engrossed in his own avocation, to any policy that he has not the wits +or leisure to assimilate thoroughly. The confidence of this average man +in the government of the moment has always been poignantly touching, a +confidence stolidly based upon a belief in the fundamental common sense +of the nation as a whole. Upset that belief, and the average man becomes +at once helplessly befogged. + +After the Squire had spoken, old Captain Davenant said a few words in a +more Cambyses' vein. Unhappily, the Captain lacked the geniality and +persuasiveness of Sir Geoffrey. He believed in the choleric word, +snapped out viciously. He spoke as he had often spoken in the +barrack-yard, or in the hunting-field when some heavy-witted yokel had +headed a fox. Probably he was shrewd enough to realise that this fox of +recruiting might be headed, and governed himself accordingly. The +Captain read the lessons on Sunday in the same peremptory tones, raising +a rasping voice and glaring at the congregation--a very mirth-provoking +performance. Uncle embodied the Nether-Applewhite verdict on such +readings of the Scriptures: + +"'Tis a rare lark to hear 'un!" + +Fancy and Alfred attended the lecture together, and Alfred accompanied +his sweetheart to the Vicarage _au clair de la lune_. They had sat at +the back of the school-house amongst the younger people, and had +listened attentively to sundry comments. Alfred, of course, accepted as +gospel whatever the lord of so goodly a manor might be gracious enough +to say. Being a carrier, and passing daily through many manors, he had +made obvious comparisons between his Squire and others to the advantage +of Sir Geoffrey Pomfret. Remember, also, that as yet, although he kept +silence on the point, he had not considered the possibility of England +wanting him, a widow's only son, actively engaged in the prosecution of +a business vital to the needs and necessities of a prosperous village. +He hadn't a doubt in his mind, after listening to a burning harangue, +that the younger men ought to down tools of peace and shoulder rifles at +the word of command. Some of the half-whispered comments disturbed him. + +"Are they cowards?" he demanded of Fancy. + +"Oh, I can't think that, Alfie." + +"You heard them growling like a lot of cantankerous hounds. I'd a strong +notion to speak my mind, I had. 'Twas lucky for them that Uncle Habakkuk +was sitting quiet and peaceful amongst the quality. I'll be bound he +picked up a shilling or two, being the happy father of the hero. George, +pore soul, stands higher than I ever expected to see him. 'Tis a sad +pity the boy ain't able to hear the brave words as was said to-night by +Squire and Captain. He's standing on a giddy pinnacle, to be sure, and I +mind me, in cricket-field, how he'd shut both eyes when a ball came at +his legs. I see him like that, quavering, on the field of battle." + +Alfred chuckled. Fancy squeezed his arm, whispering fears not for George +Mucklow, but for a better man: + +"Alfie, please don't joke about that." + +"Ah, well, Fancy, 'tis a fact that many of our boys are like George. +Shifting manure's their proper job, and they do that so slow that I get +weary watching 'em. Young Master Teddy is the real right sort. What he's +done, giving up a grand position, fills me nose-high with pride. And too +little was said about him,--a very notable oversight." + +"That was because Mr. Teddy is quality." + +"You're right, my pretty maid. Are you aware, Miss Broomfield, that your +fingers are playing the piano on my ribs?" + +Love-making put to flight the less agreeable theme. + +Mrs. Yellam and Jane Mucklow went home side by side. Jane, as the mother +of the hero, maintained an aggressive silence. Susan Yellam said, with a +faint inflection of interrogation: + +"You be a proud 'ooman to-night, Jane?" + +"You be wrong, as usual. I bain't nothing of the sart." + +"Squire and old Captain spoke up so handsome about your Garge." + +"Be I the old fool they takes me for? 'Twas soft soap, Susan, ladled out +in a big spoon; flimflam I calls it. Habakkuk can ha' the pride, and +welcome. He be fair swollen wi' that and ale as Garge is payin' for." + +"I listen to no ill talk about my brother, Jane." + +"Then you'd better walk wi' some one else, Susan Yellam. You sees God +A'mighty's hand i' this; I don't." + +She stamped along home in a silence Mrs. Yellam was too wise to break. +Jane was a Christian and a churchgoer. But chronic dyspepsia seemed to +have affected her conscience and principles. + +She had predicted aright. At the _Sir John Barleycorn_ Uncle was +drinking much ale paid for, indirectly, by the hero of the hour. The +gaffers and married men, including George's married brothers, listened +approvingly. Uncle "understudied" the Squire as he addressed his +friends, thrusting his hands into his pockets and standing very upright. + +"'Twas a notable evening, neighbours, but not a thing fresh to me, you +understand? Me and Squire went over his so heart-stirrin' remarks two +days ago, and me and old Captain had talk together this very marning. +Far be it from me to say as they used my own words egzactly; I bain't a +scollard, although I can an' do hold me own wheresomedever I finds +myself. And I tell 'ee, just as Squire did to-night, 'tis our duty to +cry 'Forrard' and keep on a-hollerin' so long as breath be left in our +dear bodies. We got to jine in the hunt, boys, and roll our big buck +over in open. I means, some way, to be in at death, and 'twould be a +grand privilege to slit his royal throat. I tell 'ee, one and all, that +the eyes o' the world be on Nether-Applewhite." + +Uncle drank some ale, amidst much applause. An old gaffer piped up: + +"Neighbours and true friends, this be a wondersome time, but I makes +bold to say that we country fellers bain't properly esteemed in Lunnon +town. I minds me when I jined what they called a deppitation to that +gert city. I'd no stomach to go along, seein' as I'd no better clothes +than I stands up in to-day. But I was out-talked, sonnies, as has +happened to me by my own wife, time and time agen. We marched very +proper down such a noble street as I'd reckoned might be found in +Kingdom Come and nowheres else. And marchin' along so proud and joyous +as never was, a tremenjous, red-faced man, a-settin' top side of a 'bus, +wi' the reins in his hand, sings out: 'Halt!' Well, neighbours, we comes +to a full stop, a-lookin' up at he, and, dang me, if he don't ask a very +ridic'lous and shameless question." + +The old man paused solemnly, looking about him. Some had heard the story +before; one of the others said curiously: + +"Whatever did he say?" + +"He says this, sonnies, loud and clear: 'Tell me this,' he says, 'how do +they keep the crows off the wheat when you fellers comes to town?' +Neighbours, they was his words. And it struck me all of a heap as we +wasn't, so to speak, properly esteemed in Lunnon town; and, more, 'tis +hard to believe that what Habakkuk Mucklow here says is true. There be +too much i' the world, neighbours all, for it to be gapin' at we." + +Uncle felt that he had overstrained a figure of speech. But he dealt +faithfully with his aged interrupter. + +"What did 'ee up and reply to 'un, Granfer?" + +The old gaffer gazed around. + +"Ah-h-h! I says nothing at the time, Habakkuk Mucklow, but a very +forcible remark comes into my mind just one week too late, when I was +makin' spars in Hollywell Wood. I could ha' downscrambled 'un. 'Twas in +the month o' November that we marched so gay adown that there Regency +Street. And in November ther bain't no wheat to keep crows off. 'Twas a +shameless and very ignerunt remark." + +He cackled joyously as a good Samaritan refilled his glass. William +Saint, feeling cautiously the pulse of his customers, hazarded a remark: + +"The likely young fellers sat together at the end of the room, and they +kept together afterwards. I see none of them here with us to-night. What +does that mean?" + +"I'll tell 'ee," replied Uncle promptly, "and in duty bound, being so +moral a man, I means to tell Squire to-morrow marning. They be afeard, +as my Garge was, till I talked to 'un. Such talk as mine, soul-stirrin', +upliftin' words, be wanted bad in Nether-Applewhite. The young fellers +has got to fight for they as brought 'un into this wicked world. I +fought in my time, as you all knows." + +"Where?" asked William Saint. + +Uncle replied scornfully: + +"Never you mind where, Willum Saint. I can fight still, let me tell 'ee. +If you doubts that, take off your coat and come wi' me to stable-yard." + +William Saint declined politely the invitation. + +"Why, Uncle, I meant no offence. We all want to fight the Germans, not +to quarrel amongst ourselves. You have a glass o' ale with me." + +Harmony was restored. Those present, who could hardly be expected to +fight, agreed cordially that others must do the job for them. The +youngsters needed encouragement. + +"Wi' the end of a boot," concluded Uncle. + +The lecture had taken place at seven. At nine the port circulated round +Sir Geoffrey's mahogany. Hamlin was present and Lionel Pomfret. How +sadly one recalls the chatter of those early days, the high hopes, the +confidence that Might would crumble away against Right, the belief in +the steam-roller--Russia. On paper, a swift result seemed assured. The +Squire had thrown off London vapours. His own words had intoxicated him. +He admitted that recruiting might hang fire in villages like Ocknell, +but not amongst _his_ people. Lionel backed him up. Lady Pomfret and +Joyce said nothing. The Parson hoped that it would be so. When Sir +Geoffrey had said everything to be said, twice over, he turned as usual +to his wife for an approving nod strangely withheld. + +"Well, my dear Mary, you agree with me?" + +"About the necessity of getting men--yes. But I am not so sanguine as +you, Geoffrey, about the patriotism in our village." + +"Bless my soul!" + +"I think Mr. Hamlin shares my apprehensions." + +"I do," admitted the Parson gravely. + +Lady Pomfret continued gently: + +"I was talking, this afternoon, with Susan Yellam. She looks ahead. She +faces facts, as we do. But she knows the village better than we do." + +"My dear----!" + +"I have been talking, too, with Ben." + +"So have I, Mary; so have I." + +Lady Pomfret smiled. + +"Are you quite sure, Geoffrey, that you have been talking with Ben, and +not at him? He is too courteous to interrupt you and too kind to +contradict you." + +"What does old Ben say to you?" + +"What Susan Yellam says. The villagers, generally, believe that our +present army and navy can beat a world in arms against us. You disabused +them of that this evening, but Captain Davenant undid some of your +stitches." + +The Squire fumed a little. + +"The old boy let them have it straight from the shoulder." + +"Exactly. Personally, I deplore such methods." + +"Sheep have to be yapped into the fold." + +"I wonder if Mr. Hamlin thinks so?" + +Thus challenged, Hamlin spoke--tentatively. + +"I have never been able to regard men and women as animals. I admit a +superficial similarity. Dogs are nearest to us, but what an Atlantic +stretches between us and them! Would any training turn a Pekinese into a +pointer? Or a pug into a greyhound? But you can train any child, of any +nationality, into what you reasonably please, provided always that you +are dealing with a sound mind in a sound body. Sheep, under certain +conditions, have to be yapped into folds, because they are sheep. The +Prussian system yaps men into the ranks. I would sooner try other +methods." + +The Squire inclined his handsome head. + +"Try your own methods, Hamlin, and good luck to you." + +He answered quietly: "I shall try them next Sunday." + +"You don't say so? From the pulpit?" + +"Why not?" + +"I approve with all my heart." + +For the moment it rested there. Lionel began to talk of his coming +campaign. The elder men and both the women, wife and mother, listened to +his young, eager voice. How keen he was! How sure of himself and of his +men, particularly the men. He talked persistently of Mr. Thomas Atkins, +of his artful divagations in peace and his whole-souled valour in war. +Hamlin reflected that it was good to listen to such talk, good to be +young and valiant, at such a time, good even to die, if the supreme +sacrifice were demanded, clean of limb and mind, leaping joyously +upward, unfettered by disease or vice, _fit_--to use the boy's own +word--for the greatest adventure of all. + +He heard his own boy speaking, just such another! Britain had thousands +of them, the fine flower of careful training, of a courtesy constantly +exercised, of a courage sharpened to finest edge by the grindstone of +games and sports, of an intelligence not quite so keenly tempered, but +alert enough in moments of stress, of a "morale" which nothing could +dismay. + +Surely they would be invincible? + +When Lionel waxed anecdotal, Hamlin's thoughts wandered to the women. He +had been a stalwart champion of the "Cause," till the militant +suffragettes took to smashing windows and smacking policemen. One effect +of the war, and no inconsiderable national asset, was the subsidence of +these tempestuous petticoats, never to flutter again, so he hoped. From +women this essentially virile parson had always expected and exacted +great things. The true prosperity of any country, so he held, flowed +from them and culminated in them. He had recognised, even at college, +their immeasurable potentialities--a favourite word of his. To ignore +their claims, politically, he contended in and out of print, was a +colossal blunder. But, quite apart from the granting or withholding of +female suffrage, he desired ardently to see women doing intelligently +and thoroughly the work peculiarly their own, whether as matrons or +spinsters. The death-rate amongst babies appalled him; the physique of +young girls overworked in over-crowded, over-heated factories and shops +roused this austere parish priest to fever-heat. He had marvelled at the +astigmatic insight displayed by sincere statesmen and philanthropists, +an insight ludicrously so-called, which overlooked women as the +mightiest lever to raise and regenerate a nation. + +And now, in the dim twilight of a world in gloom, he perceived a beacon +steadily shining. The women would have their opportunity. One could +adumbrate triumph or disaster by the effort, sustained or otherwise, +made by them. The men would play their part, if the inspiration of the +women lay behind them. And in the inevitable dislocations of all human +enterprise, both during and after the war, he beheld women stimulating +the men either upward or downward, for good or ill, according to the +spirit which burned within them. + +He gazed at Lady Pomfret and his daughter Joyce, as their eyes dwelt +upon the son and husband about to sail for France. He could guess what +sensibilities lacerated their hearts. Outwardly, each remained calm. +They would be so when the moment of parting came, speeding their warrior +on his way with smiles, keeping back the tears till he was out of sight. + +Hamlin walked home across the park, and let himself into the Vicarage +with his latch-key. It was past eleven, and, to his surprise, Fancy had +not gone to bed. As she lit his candle he chided her with the touch of +testiness which had ceased to frighten her. + +She said quickly: + +"I wanted to see you, sir." + +"See me at nearly midnight? What about? Surely to-morrow morning would +do?" + +"I wanted to sleep well to-night." + +Without a word, he led the way into his study, and lighted two more +candles. + +"Sit down," he commanded. "You look tired." + +"I feel excited like, sir." + +He examined her more attentively, noticing the dilation of her pupils, +so marked as to alter her expression. Big black eyes seemed to be +burning out of a white face, but he attributed this seeming pallor to an +ill-lit room. + +"What excites you, Fancy?" + +"I sat with Alfred Yellam at the back of school-house amongst the young +fellows." + +"Well?" + +"Before Alfred left me, he told me to tell you, sir, that the young +fellows was not too well pleased with what Captain Davenant said. Alfred +was real vexed at their remarks. He thought you did ought to know." + +"I'm much obliged to Alfred for a timely hint. But couldn't this have +kept till the morning?" + +"There's something else, sir." + +"Out with it!" He smiled more encouragingly. + +"After Alfred went, Molly told me as everybody in village was saying as +how George Mucklow's father _made_ him go, and that upset the other +young men.... And then...." + +Her soft voice faltered and died away. + +"And then...?" + +"Molly and me fell to talking about Mr. Edward." + +The sympathy in her voice was almost too much for the Parson. He shaded +his eyes with his hand. She continued in a lower tone: + +"Excuse me, sir, for asking you something, but I do want to know so +bad." + +"Ask your question, Fancy." + +"Did you tell Mr. Edward to go?" + +"No." + +"Ah! He wanted to go, and you didn't raise a finger to prevent him. If +you had, maybe he'd have stayed." + +"I--I don't think so." + +The Parson's voice was not too steady. How sorely he had been tempted to +raise that finger none would ever know. Fancy went on, breathlessly: + +"Molly and me thinks that those who can least be spared may have to go, +if--if the others hold back." + +"I see. You are thinking of your Alfred?" + +He lowered his hand, looking straight at her. + +"If you please, sir. He be terrible put out at the others hanging back." + +"I give my opinion for what it is worth, Fancy. In these deep matters +none can speak for another. I do not presume to speak for Alfred. But +Lord Kitchener, if he were here, would assure you that Alfred is +certainly not needed yet, nor likely to be for a long time." + +"Thank you, sir. That does hearten me. But, if he should want to go, and +if--if he left it to me, what should I do? What ought I to do?" + +Her big eyes were flaming with interrogation. The Parson dared not +temporise with her. All his thoughts concerning women seemed to have +become focussed on this individual case. All that the finest gentlewomen +in the Empire were feeling expressed itself poignantly from the mouth of +his parlourmaid. All his convictions concerning the potentialities of +the soul became fortified. They burst suddenly into full flower. Yet he +answered curtly, distrustful of sentiment when tremendous issues were at +stake. + +"You will tell him, Fancy, to act according to the dictates of his own +conscience." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Do you mean that you will tell him that, regardless of your own +feelings?" + +"Yes, sir." + +She got up, begging his pardon for keeping him out of bed. As he rose +from his chair, he wondered what he could say to comfort her; some word +of solace that might woo sleep to her tired brain. They went together +into the small hall. He took her hand. + +"Have courage and faith. Pray that these may be vouchsafed to you and to +all of us. Something tells me that you have both already. And if so, +Fancy, it is well with you. Good-night." + +"Good-night, sir." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +PARSON'S METHODS + + +Next day, immediately after breakfast, Sir Geoffrey summoned his two +footmen and the odd man, so called because he does odd jobs in a big +establishment and works harder for less pay than any other servant +except, possibly, the scullery-maid. The first footman, Alfred Rockley, +had married recently his cousin, Prudence, and, for the moment, the +Squire regarded him as ineligible for service elsewhere. Charles, the +second footman, was held by the Squire to be an oaf, sadly in need of +barrack-yard discipline; the odd man had been taken from the Home Farm, +and felt more at home in a barn than in the pantry. + +They had attended the lecture of the previous evening. + +Sir Geoffrey marshalled them in front of him, as he sat at his desk, and +said genially: + +"Now, Alfred, what do you think about joining up?" + +The gallant fellow answered promptly: + +"I'm ready to enlist with Captain Pomfret, Sir Geoffrey." + +"So he told me, and it warmed the cockles of my heart. But you have a +wife and----" + +"Somebody else coming, Sir Geoffrey," added a true son of +Nether-Applewhite. + +"Yes, yes; a hint of that reached me, and I was much pleased. Babies, +b'Jove, ought to command premiums nowadays. Under the circumstances, +Alfred, you can go back to the pantry. Single men must march first." + +Alfred thanked the Autocrat, and withdrew. Charles happened to be the +Squire's godson, and not a credit to his sponsor. Sir Geoffrey stared at +his bovine face, now exhibiting a grin which might be seen at funerals +and on all momentous occasions, a grin indicating nervousness and +apprehension. If Sir Geoffrey could have looked through a very massive +desk, he would have reprimanded Charles for standing on one foot and +scratching his calf with the other. + +"What do you propose to do, Charles?" + +"I be thinking, Sir Gaffrey." + +"Good. I want my people to exercise such thought as God has given to +'em. What conclusion have you come to--hey?" + +"Mother don't fancy me going for a soldier." + +"Possibly not. But this is a case for your conscience, not for your +mother's fancy." + +He spoke with increasing testiness. + +"I be thinking, Sir Gaffrey," he repeated, with a still broader grin. + +"Very well. Off with you! Think hard for the next twenty-four hours, and +I'll see you again." + +"Yas, Sir Gaffrey." + +Charles withdrew, still grinning, and joined Alfred in the pantry, where +he used encarmined language which provoked a rebuke from the middle-aged +butler who had stepped into Fishpingle's shoes. + +Sir Geoffrey eyed the odd man. + +"What have you to say, my lad?" + +"I ain't going to the wars, I ain't." + +"Oh, you ain't going to the wars? Why not?" + +"Because I'm quite satisfied with my place, sir." + +"By the way, what's your name?" + +"William Busketts." + +"To be sure. Unmarried?" + +"I'm walking out with Jemima Pavey, a very respectable young woman." + +"What does Jemima Pavey say about it?" + +"She thinks with me, sir. Most of us think the same, as we ain't ready +to go to furrin' parts. If the Kayser invades Old England, I'm ready to +shoulder gun, stand behind a tree, as brave as my neighbours, and take a +true shot at 'un." + +Sir Geoffrey stared at him. Did all the young men in his beloved village +think this? And, if so, how was Authority going to deal with such a lot +of damned fools? He said slowly: + +"Has it occurred to you, my lad, that if able-bodied men like you refuse +to enlist willingly, they will be made to do so? Willy-nilly----!" + +"Ah-h-h, you're talking of conscription, sir. Old England won't never +stand that. 'Tis devilish Proosianism, so they tell me." + +"Who has told you that? Answer me!" + +"I have heard William Saint say so." + +Sir Geoffrey suppressed an oath. That William Saint, a former servant of +his own, a tenant, a trusted friend, b'Jove! should so poison men's +minds at such a time seemed incredible. If this were true, the world was +indeed upside down. He fidgeted in his chair; his face flushed; wrath +bubbled within him. He began to despair of his fellow-countrymen. +However, he choked down his rising rage and said freezingly: + +"You can go, sir." + +"Where to?" + +"Back to your work for the present." + +William Busketts retreated, slightly moithered, but more at ease. He had +expected an explosion, followed by the "sack." + +Sir Geoffrey leaned back in his chair, sorely discomfited. It would be +pleasant to record that happier fortune awaited him in his stables, in +his gardens, and at the Home Farm; but truth will leap from her well on +rare occasions. Out of all the young men interviewed upon this memorable +morning, young men more or less dependent upon the will and whim of +their interlocutor, only one promised to enlist forthwith. The others +touched their caps, bobbed their heads, and professed themselves willing +to do anything except bear arms for their country. + +Luncheon at Pomfret Court, accordingly, was not a very cheery meal. The +Squire sat silent and abstracted; the troubles in his brain upset his +appetite. + +In the afternoon, he called upon Captain Davenant, whom he found +apoplectic with indignation. The Captain had a modest establishment, but +he had discharged two men who--so the Captain affirmed--preferred to +guzzle ale when a unique opportunity for sticking pig was held out to +them. + +"Country's rotten," concluded the Captain. "It may be saved by the +gentlemen, by God! sir, but not by our yokels." + +The Squire protested against this, saying, mildly for him: + +"Perhaps, Davenant, our methods are at fault." + +"That be damned!" roared the Captain. + +"Well, well, it's fairly obvious that so far our recruiting campaign has +not been an overwhelming success. Hamlin means to have a go at 'em on +Sunday. I haven't a notion how he'll tackle the job, but there it is. +What is your opinion of William Saint?" + +"A very shifty fellow, Pomfret, with a face the colour of skilly. He +licks your boots. I wouldn't let him black mine. By the way, I've +promised Habakkuk Mucklow half-a-sovereign for every cove he collars." + +"That we should have come to such a pass!" + +"Light a fresh cigar, and we'll go to the stables. When I'm fed up with +mankind, I always take a squint at my gees." + +"So do I, Davenant. But they'll have to go, too." + +"Mine are ready for 'em." + +This talk took place in mid-September, at a moment when an astrologer, +doing a roaring trade not far from Piccadilly Circus, predicted +confidently that the final disappearance of the All-Highest would take +place upon the twenty-fifth day of October, 1914! Many believed him. And +the mere sight of our splendid regulars route-marching over country +roads, singing "Tipperary" as they swung along, deepened in the hearts +of those who beheld them the conviction that French's Army was quite +sufficient to stem the Hun tide, and, later on, sweep it back to Berlin. +The pacifist press was widely read by men who had never looked at a +newspaper before. + +Unspeakable atrocities had begun in prostrate Belgium. Some refused to +credit them. Others shrugged their shoulders and remarked blandly that +war was not five o'clock tea. Out of the seething mass of +contradictions, affirmations, exaggerations and recriminations, men in +the rural districts who could hardly read and write were invited to step +forward and abandon the beaten tracks. Can one blame them, to-day, that +they shrank at first from a desperate plunge into the unknown? + +Upon the following Sunday, Nether-Applewhite Church was crowded to the +galleries. + +All over the country, churches were filling up or emptying according to +the virtue that emanated from the preachers of God's Word. One wonders +whether ministers of the Gospel apply this numerical test to themselves. +It is certain, however, that those, like Hamlin, whether in Church or +Chapel, who laid aside for the moment merely Biblical exegesis and the +expounding of doctrine and dogma, and concentrated spiritual and +intellectual energies upon dealing faithfully with the problem of human +conduct as affected by a catastrophic war, had no reason to complain +that they addressed empty pews. + +Captain Davenant read the Lessons as if he were declaiming the Riot Act. +The good man believed that the young men present were shirking hounds to +be rated and whipped up to their Master. Under the lash of his rasping +voice, even Mrs. Yellam, louder in fervent response than usual, winced +and frowned. The Parson, in his three-decker, wondered whether a +discreet hint would serve to tone down the zeal of this militant +Christian, who positively wallowed in the slaughters and comminations of +the Old Testament. The Captain, as a stout upholder of Church and Crown, +must be handled delicately; a dry old stick breaks so easily. Uncle sat +with his wife in the Mucklow pew, half-way down the nave. He carried a +high head, and thought of the half-sovereigns soon to be rattling in and +out of his pocket. Jane sat beside him, sniffing audibly. Alfred Yellam +and Fancy Broomfield were opposite to each other, with the aisle between +them. + +Hamlin ascended the pulpit. + +He chose for his text a maxim of Bishop Berkeley: + +"Where the heart is right, there is true patriotism." + +The shuffling of skirts and occasional coughs soon died down. Sir +Geoffrey, from his coign of vantage in the chancel, perceived with some +astonishment that Hamlin had a script on the cushion in front of him. As +a rule he preached without notes. The Squire inferred rightly that the +Parson deemed his theme to be of such paramount importance that he +distrusted the effect of one careless, unconsidered word. Hamlin, +however, possessed long sight. He could read his typewritten sheets +without lifting them. Few in the congregation were aware of them. + +He began with the curt statement that the actual word "patriotism" is +not to be found in the Bible. This challenged attention immediately. The +Squire fidgeted. He considered that Hamlin had made a shockingly bad +start. A weapon had been thrust into the hands of recalcitrants. This +apprehension, however, vanished as the preacher set forth convincingly, +in words that children could understand, the obsessing love of country, +of the Promised Land, which informed and sustained God's Chosen People +during forty weary years in the wilderness. With a swift transition, he +passed to the New Testament, dwelling, with more insistence, upon the +love that had inspired simple, obscure men to forsake home, country and +kindred, to fight God's battles in new and strange countries. When he +paused, before touching his real theme, he had the ears of his +congregation. He indulged in no gestures, his familiar tones fell +quietly. So far, what he had said was preparatory, novel neither in +theme nor treatment. None knew better than he how sadly his parishioners +were lacking in imagination. His success, as a preacher, had not been +gained by dealing with abstractions or by inviting ill-educated persons +to transplant themselves to surroundings and conditions which the wisest +of moderns find difficulty in apprehending. Hamlin believed in the +personal appeal. + +He leaned forward out of his pulpit, gazing keenly at the faces upturned +to his. + +"I am wondering," he said slowly, "how many of you young unmarried men +will be here a few Sundays from now?" + +He paused again. His voice was gentler: + +"I am wondering, also, what the mothers and sisters and sweethearts of +these young men are thinking to-day, and what part they mean to +play--to-morrow." Then he said austerely: "Where the heart is right, +there is true patriotism." + +Many hearts began to beat faster, as he went on, picking his way, +pausing again and again, but never faltering. The Squire, upright in his +comfortable chair, became conscious of the man's grip upon everybody +present, gentle and simple. He could see their tense faces. + +"I have never doubted one great thing. I believe in the soul and its +immortality. In God's sight all souls are equal, because they are part +of Him. From birth that soul is struggling to inform the body, in all +its functions. It never tires; it never despairs. I dare to affirm that +it is most active when body and mind are fighting against it, spurning +it, denying, perhaps, its very existence or power. I affirm, further, +that this quickening spirit within us may be least potent to achieve its +purpose when body and mind are stagnant, steeped in apathy, content with +the things of this earth, food, drink, clothes, money and--pleasure. + +"Try to believe, for a moment, that your souls are omnipotently right. +In the text I have chosen, Bishop Berkeley uses the word 'heart.' I take +it that he meant mind. Are your minds right? Are they working in harmony +with your souls? Each of you is called upon to answer that question in +relation to this world-war, and what that war may demand of each of us. +It is the duty of some of you to go, not grudgingly, not because +pressure is brought to bear upon you, not because you want to pose +before others as more valiant than they are, not for any selfish reason +whatever, but in the same spirit which informed the apostles, men like +yourselves, hard workers, absorbed, as you are, in their own affairs, +who abandoned everything with one unswerving purpose before them--the +regeneration of a world in pain. + +"A great Cause is animating all of us. + +"This war may inspire some of you to actions undreamed of in days of +peace, to a valour which you cannot measure if you would, because the +hour provoking it has not yet come. Sooner or later that hour comes to +the greatest and the humblest. And the manner of our rising to it may +shape anew our lives and other lives, and determine our progress here +and hereafter. From the cradle to the grave, each of us carries a +sleeping energy capable of immense expansion, which wakes when the great +opportunity presents itself. + +"Some of you, I daresay, are unconscious of this latent power. We don't +expect much of a child, do we? A child eats and plays and sleeps. But +children of the tenderest years have performed amazing, incredible +deeds. Why? Because of this Divine fund of spiritual force. And we who +are past middle-age; how difficult it is to say, with any certainty, how +early we began, resolutely, to exercise what is called the human will. + +"I ask you again, are your hearts right? I repeat again that your souls +are right. Obey the voice of conscience, and it will be well with you. +It is the duty of some of us to stay here in Nether-Applewhite. I wish +with all my heart that I could go, but I must stay. A very solemn +obligation rests with the women. I have never doubted the immense +influence consciously or unconsciously exercised by you women over men. +Are your hearts right? Do you realise, thinking, as you must do, of your +dependence upon your bread-winners, that you may be hindering instead of +helping those whom you love; that, in urging them to stay at home, you +may be taking from them an opportunity to rise to their full stature, +never to be offered again? + +"What does Bishop Berkeley mean by _true_ patriotism? + +"Are the Germans true patriots? Let us admit that they are passionate +lovers of their Fatherland. But their patriotism would seem to be an +insensate fury of self-interest, shrinking from no outrage to be +inflicted on others, provided only that the material end be +accomplished--world-dominion. I cannot bring myself to speak, before +young women and children, of the atrocities deliberately wreaked upon +helpless Belgians. They are so abominable that details are unprintable +in clean newspapers. + +"Is, then, their form of patriotism true? + +"What form will your patriotism take? Will it be true, springing to life +and strength, out of a right mind inspired by the soul; or will it +pattern itself after the Prussian model, concerning itself with material +gain regardless of spiritual loss? + +"Ask yourself these things. + +"Before I close I want to say this. For many years I have worked amongst +you, in sickness and in health, in prosperity and adversity, and your +welfare is dear to me. Sometimes I have felt discouraged, acutely +sensible of failure and disappointment. For many of you I have cherished +ambitions, and some of these have been realised. And it is this which +has sustained and fortified me in the dark hours which none can escape. +What one can do may be done by another; not in the same way, perhaps, +but in the same direction--upward and onward. I believe, with all the +faith that is in me, that you will rise, with right and steadfast +hearts, to meet this stupendous emergency. I am at your service. My +house is open to you when I am in it. If you want counsel, if you feel +perplexed, as you may well do, come to me, and together we will attempt +to find a way. I shall not appeal to any one of you, personally." + +The congregation filed out of the church. Many walked home in silence. +Alfred Yellam booked no orders in the churchyard on that Sunday. Susan +Yellam smelt no odour of baked meats as she passed the baker's. Uncle, +after greeting them not so exuberantly as usual, said with conviction: + +"A very moving and proper discourse. 'Tis strange that me and Pa'son do +think just alike. I felt as I might ha' been preaching that upliftin' +sermon myself. His motter be mine--upward and onward! He be counting on +me to play my part, and I shan't disapint 'un." + +His wife said tartly: + +"There be one preacher you'll never disappoint, Habakkuk." + +"You means Pa'son?" + +"I means--yourself." + +Uncle laughed, patting her shoulder. + +"Old dear, I've heard 'ee make more foolish remarks." + +Mrs. Yellam said no word about the sermon till the midday meal was over. +When Alfred had lighted his pipe, she came and sat near him. + +"Alferd?" + +"Yes, Mother?" + +"There be moments when Mr. Hamlin do soar, so to speak, high above me. I +be a very unhappy 'ooman this day." + +Alfred opened his mouth and left it open, gaping with amazement. The +Parson's sermon had moved him to the marrow, particularly the references +to the women, because he was well aware of the influence exercised over +him by his mother and Fancy, the more percolating because he never +admitted it except to himself. Nevertheless he knew that his mother was +subject to moods and tenses which no ordinary man could conjugate. She +held herself strictly to account upon matters affecting conduct, +somewhat complacently aware that less robust spirits cited her as a +model. Her cocksureness about others, oddly enough, accentuated +pitifully her private opinion about Susan Yellam. From time to time +Alfred alone was privileged to behold this strong woman self-shorn of +her strength. He could remember well a terrible fortnight after Lizzie +died, when Mrs. Yellam lay in bed and refused even his efforts to +console her. The remembrance of her grim, set face came back to him now, +as he stared mutely at her, wondering what he ought to say, and +miserably conscious that the situation lay far beyond him. + +Why should his mother be unhappy? + +Had he been a student of history, he might have reflected that Boadicea, +possibly, ruled wisely everybody except herself. + +Mrs. Yellam continued: + +"I have the notion that Mr. Hamlin expects too much o' me." + +"What a queer, upsetting idea!" + +"I be asking myself if my heart be right. It bain't." + +"Maybe 'tis your stomach, Mother." + +"No, Alferd. I be no true patriot." + +"Well, I never! If such a woman as you are is bogged down, where are we, +I ask?" + +"You be in the right path, Alferd. 'Tis some comfort to think o' that. +Now, let me bide wi' my own thoughts. Fancy be waiting for 'ee. Be kind +to the maid, Alferd, if so be as you find her, like me, down on beam +ends after this marning's sermon." + +"Fancy'll be all right, I wager." + +"Maybe. I tell 'ee this: we women be fearfully and wonnerfully made--a +puzzle to ourselves and all mortal men. That be a fact, my son. I knows +this too hard for any man to understand. If you stayed on here wi' me, +wi' the whole-souled notion o' comforting an unhappy 'ooman, I should +wax peevish wi' 'ee. God forgive us! We be cruel to they we love, when +life goes wrong wi' us." + +Alfred wisely had a squint at his motor-'bus to hearten himself up, and +then took the road to the Vicarage. + +Mrs. Yellam cleared away the dinner-things and washed them up. It was +too early, as yet, to expect visitors. She went into the parlour and +opened the big Bible, staring at Alfred's name and her own. She had rid +herself of him cleverly. Had he stayed, she would have broken down. She +wanted to make him swear to remain in Nether-Applewhite. She had made up +her mind to do so that very morning. Every word spoken by the Parson +seemed to be directed at her; his chance shafts quivered in the heart +that was not right. + +She closed the Bible. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +FANCY'S ORDEAL + + +Parson's methods bore fruit. Within the week several young men came +forward, and certain young women, on their own initiative, formed a +small society to encourage enlistment. Uncle claimed two or three +half-sovereigns from Captain Davenant to which, possibly, he was not +entitled. The Captain raised a protest against one case, having specific +information that female influence had been diligently at work. Uncle +laughed. + +"Ah-h-h! That be true, Captain. But 'twas me as talked first to the +young 'ooman, training her, so to speak, and puttin' my brave words into +her pretty mouth. But I bain't one to keer about money. Everybody knows +that. I be working as never was for my whole Sovereign, King Garge, not +for half 'uns." + +Captain Davenant paid the extra half-sovereign. Uncle's disarming grin +proved irresistible. + +Ultimately, Nether-Applewhite did better than contiguous villages. In +Ocknell, with an impoverished squire and a nonentity for a parson, no +young men came forward during the first three months. + +About Christmas, George Mucklow returned home on leave, hardly +recognisable. Nether-Applewhite was impressed by his martial bearing, +when he strode down the village street, cocking his head at a +much-admired angle, with his buttons shining in the sun. Young Hamlin, +with a corporal's stripes upon his arm, had leave at the same time. +George and he received an ovation, wandering in and out of the cottages, +talking and laughing as if war were the greatest lark in the world. +Recruiting was much stimulated. The girls liked to be seen with a "boy" +in khaki. + +Meanwhile, Lionel Pomfret had been with the gallant Seven Divisions, +sharing their hardships and glories. He wrote home in good spirits, +making light of what he had endured, but a postscript in a letter +received in early December was illuminating. + +"At present I feel that when I return to Nether-Applewhite I shall never +want to leave it again. All the German prisoners taken by our men are +fatly content. One chap, formerly a barber at Nottingham, told me that +he'd been looking for us ever since he joined up!" + +Perhaps the proudest moment of Lady Pomfret's life came to her when she +visited a wounded Green Jacket at Netley, who had been in Lionel's +company. The man said to her: + +"During the retreat from Mons, my lady, the Captain kept up all our +spirits, laughing at us and chaffing us. We loved him." + +So far, Lionel had not been touched, but, much to the anxiety of his +mother, he never mentioned his own health. She knew how delicate his +lungs were. Would they stand the cruel rigours of the trenches in +mid-winter? + +She was now established as the Commandant of the Red Cross Hospital, and +wore a red uniform which became her vastly well. For three months, +preceding Christmas, wounded Belgians were cared for and entertained by +the devoted band of women who rallied round the lady of the manor. Jane +Mucklow cooked for the wounded; Susan Yellam was installed as +bottle-washer in chief. Sir Geoffrey would march through the Long Saloon +and wonder where he was. All the beautiful furniture and porcelain had +been put away. Nine cots on each side of the stately room stood side by +side. In the centre was a large table covered with puzzles and +paraphernalia for indoor games. At smaller tables the convalescents +played interminably at cards, piquet and écarté. They amused each other +very well, not so dependent upon their entertainers as the Tommies who +succeeded them. One man sang beautifully; another wrote admirable verse. +Before the war, the versifier had been on the staff of a Brussels +newspaper. All these men were unanimous about one thing--an _idée fixe_. +They hoped and prayed that they might never be asked to fight again. +Some declared their intention of remaining for ever and ever in England. +It was heart-breaking to listen to their accounts of ravished and +pillaged Belgium. + +Above them hung the famous French prints. Beautiful, laughing dames and +exquisite cavaliers looked down upon bandaged heads and shattered limbs. +The contrast never failed to strike Sir Geoffrey. His prints stood for +life as he had known it, gay, easy, refined, cultivated, essentially +aristocratic. Was the Old Order, which he loved, passing inexorably out +of sight? Would life, after the war, cease to be leisurely and easy for +the upper classes? Would the payment of a stupendous National Debt fall +upon them? And, if so, how would it be met? Would a triumphant democracy +divide up the big estates? Could they be run properly upon diminished +rent-rolls? + +He confronted these questions ill at ease inwardly. Outwardly, as he had +assured his wife, he carried "a stiff tail." The politeness of the +Belgians oppressed him. If he came into the ward and addressed a man +lying in bed, the poor fellow would struggle to sit up and salute him. +One cheery-faced boy, with eight wounds, passed the time laughing and +crying; then he would fall asleep, smiling in his sleep like a child. + +But recruiting had been damped down by Authority, because housing and +equipment were so short. Sir Geoffrey was not encouraged to stump the +county--as he offered to do--and deliver his lecture. His old +school-fellow at the War Office gave him a hint: + +"We want the men, but not too many at once." + +In the village, women not engrossed with Red Cross work sewed feverishly +upon shirts and pyjamas, and knitted comforters. The Squire examined +some of the pyjamas, and exclaimed: + +"Thank God! I don't have to wear them." + +Shooting and hunting and football went on much as usual, to the +amazement of our French Allies. Some of our cavalry regiments in France +wanted to import a pack of hounds. The French Mandarins forbade it. + +Early in January, a curt telegram from the War Office reached Sir +Geoffrey, as he stood in the hall, after a day in his coverts, shooting +cock-pheasants. + +"Lionel Pomfret wounded, degree not stated." + +Next morning, Sir Geoffrey hastened to London and to the War Office. No +details were forthcoming. The men he saw were kind and sympathetic. +Captain Pomfret might be badly wounded, but the odds were against that. +The anxious father couldn't find out where his son was, or even where he +was likely to be. He engaged rooms at a hotel and spent a wretched +afternoon at his club. Twenty-four hours dragged themselves by. He was +wondering how much longer he could bear the strain, when the second +telegram reached him. + +"Arrived Southampton. Destination unknown. Love. LIONEL." + +The Squire, you may be sure, shared these good tidings with many +friends, who congratulated him warmly. Obviously, the wound must be +light. Exasperations followed, thick and fast. Sir Geoffrey hurried to +the War Office, and thence to the Admiralty, and finally to Waterloo, +where, eventually, he had the joy of seeing his son step out of a train, +with a much-bandaged head, but apparently fit and in the highest +spirits. A bit of shrapnel had knocked him down, inflicting a +superficial scalp-wound, which was healing rapidly. Across his overcoat +was a perfectly-defined cut made by a bullet which had missed him and +killed the man at his side. He shewed his father a scar upon his neck, +where another bullet had grazed him. Lionel talked fast and fluently. He +had been in innumerable small actions since Mons, and had seen whole +regiments cut to bits. + +His destination for the moment was a private hospital for officers in +Belgrave Square. There his wound was dressed, and Sir Geoffrey talked +persuasively to the Sister-in-charge and Surgeon, who, under pressure, +allowed their patient to dine with his father quietly at a club. + +Sir Geoffrey never forgot that dinner. + +War, as soldiers see it, was brought vividly home to him by a young man +who talked of indescribable horrors as if they were negligible. +Everything was accepted by Lionel as part of the "show." The father +listened, thinking of the pin-pricks which, since August, had so +irritated his sensitive skin, and felt grievously ashamed of himself. +But, in Lionel's place, with Lionel's amazing experience, he, too, was +sensible that he would talk coolly. That was part of the tradition of +the Service. Tremendous issues must be so faced. + +He took his son back to Belgrave Square at half-past nine. + +Lionel slept soundly. The Squire lay awake most of the night. Throughout +dinner, he had suppressed his feelings. And on the threshold of the +nursing-home, the father had found no other words than these: + +"It's jolly to have you back again, old chap." + +That was all, and, perhaps, enough. + +In bed, the Squire had no inclination to sleep. He wanted to think +things out. He wanted to adjust past and present conditions, to strike +some happy mean between them. Could he interpret the significance of +this never-ending slaughter? Lionel had told him of a German regiment +pushing too far ahead, and annihilated, not a man left. That had been +described, also, as a "show." + +More--and worse--Lionel ridiculed the suggestion of an early peace. +Kitchener was under the mark. The war was quite likely to last five +years. + +Five years! + +Men such as his son, decent, quiet, sport-loving chaps, admitted with a +laugh--with a laugh!!!--that the enemy was "hot stuff," and that +attrition would determine the end--and nothing else. + +Attrition. + +He attempted to envisage what attrition meant where millions were +engaged. Put the lot at twenty millions. How many would perish? What +Divine Purpose could be accomplished by such a holocaust? + +But his boy was safe for the next few weeks. + +Two days later he brought him back to Pomfret Court. + +Lionel received a soul-warming reception from gentle and simple within +and without a five-mile radius of his home. Apart from the young man's +personal charm and good looks, he happened to be the first officer to +return home wounded. The fact that the wound was not serious, that he +treated it as a convenient peg upon which to hang three weeks' leave, +made no difference. Indeed, it increased rather than diminished his +influence in Nether-Applewhite so far as recruiting was concerned. His +gay voice, his happy inconsequence, the vitality that radiated from him +as he moved briskly from cottage to cottage, or rode up to talk to men +working upon the property, achieved effects so far-reaching that +possibly Hamlin was the only man in the parish able to measure them. The +Squire and Davenant had appealed trenchantly for volunteers, using the +time-worn arguments of Authority and believing sincerely enough that +deaf ears might hear their message if it were shouted loud enough. The +Parson, wiser man, had appealed to those same ears believing, with +greater conviction, that noise and violence, veiled threats, bribery in +any form, would defeat their ends. Right action, he contended, would +come from within, at the persuasive, insistent call of conscience. +Lionel Pomfret hit the trail--to use the Western expression--which +wanders between the high road and the low. Looking at the gallant +fellow, sitting erect on his horse, it seemed clear even to eyes dimmed +by living in the twilight of unintellectual surroundings, that he +impersonated something which captivates the rural mind more than +anything else--excitement. Lionel told the labourers, none of whom had +been farther afield than Salisbury or Southampton, stories of France +bubbling over with humour and high spirits. And if this +light-heartedness had astonished his father, we can imagine what +bewilderment it begat in simpler minds. Many of them realised that in +holding back they were missing _fun_! One hardly dares to use such a +word. But it burst, like a bomb, from the lips of a man who had been +"out there," who had been "through it," who bore scars, and who laughed +at them. + +Many joined up; more held back. + +Laugh as he did about everything that concerned his own adventures and +misadventures, Lionel became intensely serious concerning the main +issue, trembling still in the balance. Kitchener of Khartoum must have +more and more men. Otherwise, the sacrifices made and the hardships +endured by the splendid Seven Divisions would be in vain, and, +ultimately, directly or indirectly, the enemy would triumph. + +Charles, the second footman, and the odd man, enlisted within a week of +Lionel's return home. Their places in the establishment were taken by +maids. + +Upon the first Sunday in February fill-dyke, Alfred Yellam walked out, +as usual, with Fancy. She had noticed, during the Morning Service, that +Mrs. Yellam's responses were not quite so fervent as usual, and the +sermon, a good one, seemed to fail to hold Alfred's attention. +Servant-maids are acute observers where their interests are concerned. +They divine a frown before the master's forehead is wrinkled; they +anticipate a harsh word before it is spoken by the mistress. Alfred +walked beside Fancy in silence. This, taken by itself, was not +disturbing. The more privileged classes often wonder why humbler couples +sitting upon benches in the parks, or walking aimlessly amongst the +trees, appear to be so satisfied with a silence which they stigmatise as +stupidity. If, on the other hand, curiosity led our Olympians to +interrogate the more thoughtful of these couples, they might be +astonished to discover that the never-ending chatter in our +drawing-rooms provokes much the same indictment from those whom they +regard as far below them. The shrill screams of laughter, the +parrot-house babble, fox-trotting, and the bacchantic waving of arms +bare to the shoulder are often summed up as--"monkey-shines." To men and +women who work desperately hard throughout the week, the silences of +Sunday steal unawares, lapping them to a rest which is real refreshment. +Fancy, for example, loved to stroll beside Alfred, feeling his sturdy +arm about her waist, and knowing from its convincing pressure that his +thoughts were dwelling upon her as hers dwelt upon him, revelling in a +future which would bring them closer together. + +But, to-day, somehow, his silence was not so reassuring. + +For the time of year, the weather happened to be mild. Spring was abroad +in the land. Fancy heard her voice in the bleating of the new-born +lambs; she beheld her in the snow-drops; Spring's sweet breath beat upon +a pink cheek when the south-west breeze sighed in the yews and +pine-tops. + +And yet, misgivings assailed the maid. + +They had walked from the Vicarage, through Nether-Applewhite, and past +Mrs. Yellam's cottage whither they would return for tea. Fancy had +learnt to love the village with its general air of sleepy, comfortable +prosperity. She would be perfectly content to live here all her days. +Occasional jaunts to Sarum or to the exciting side-shows of Boscombe and +Bournemouth could only serve to enhance the more solid charms of home. +Alfred had spoken once, at the moment when they left the _Sir John +Barleycorn_ tavern behind them. + +"Do you like William Saint, Fancy?" + +"No." + +"Why?" + +"I don't know, Alfie. I ain't never spoken to him, nor him to me. 'Tis +his face, I suppose." + +"Mother thinks he's a danger to me." + +"Gracious!" + +"William moves with the times, a far-seeing man. And snug, with money in +bank and credit, too. Mother says he's after my business. I got ahead by +buying my motor-'bus. Yes--William Saint might have sneaked my good +business. He knows folk far and wide, as I do. That's bread and cheese +to a carrier. And he knows how to tickle 'em with pleasant words. That's +cakes and ale." + +He said no more. Fancy felt vaguely troubled. She had taken Alfred's +profitable business for granted. Fellow-servants and villagers had +assured her, with a sub-acid inflection underlying congratulation, that +she was lucky indeed to have got so warm a man as the carrier. Like most +of her class, she entertained nebulous ideas about how money was made, +although she had been constrained all her life to use such money as came +to her thriftily and with a very lively sense of its elusive attributes +in slipping through careless fingers. The slow building-up of a business +had never engrossed her thoughts. But she knew well enough, poor child, +how rapidly such a business may disintegrate, and fall to pieces. That +calamity had been her father's bitter experience. + +They followed the Avon, strolling leisurely up-stream till they reached +a small covert much beloved by hunting-men because it always harboured a +stout fox. + +"Let's go in wood," said Alfred. + +"Won't it be damp, dear?" + +"I want to talk to you." + +Her heart beat faster. Something was coming--What? + +Alfred led the way to a hurdler's hut, a rough shed, where the lovers +sat down upon a heap of dry chips. A delicious smell of bark filled the +air. George Mucklow had worked here often, before he was dragooned into +the Army. With the smell of bark, dominating it, rose the odour of damp +earth, always so significant, bearing its double message. From earth we +have come; to it we must return. Fancy's sensitive nose could detect yet +another odour. An ancient coat, much soiled by time and weather, had +been thrown upon the pile of chips. In an olfactory sense the coat was +eloquent of labour, of long perspiring hours and all that such hours +hold. Fancy's nostrils were not offended. But she refused to sit on it. +Alfred, wearing his Sunday best, was not so particular. + +He wasted little time in preliminaries. And he spoke with a geniality +assumed, as Fancy guessed, for her benefit. + +"The young Captain," he began, "has stirred us all up with his pleasant +tongue. Now don't jump! Let me tell my tale." + +He told it simply. Upon the previous Friday, it appeared, Alfred had +fallen into talk with the Pavey boys, who worked on a farm between +Nether-Applewhite and Salisbury. The Paveys were reckoned by Sir +Geoffrey to be stout specimens of sound breeding. Jemima Pavey, it may +be recalled, "walked out" with William Busketts, the odd man. It is +likely, therefore, that the enlistment of William affected profoundly +Jemima's brothers, both single, both of military age. Alfred, urged on, +no doubt, by Lionel Pomfret, had taken upon himself the task of +persuading the Paveys to follow William to the wars. According to +Alfred, a hot discussion had ensued. The Paveys were regarded by the +Squire as sound in body but weak and plastic of mind. Wiser men than the +Autocrat of Nether-Applewhite consistently underrated the intelligence +of young men like the Paveys, abnormally acute when stimulated by +self-interest. Ultimately, so Alfred said, the Paveys had twitted him +offensively upon the fact that he preached what he did not practise. +And, oddly enough, poor Alfred was not prepared for this sudden turning +of tables. He, too, was single and of military age. The fact that he +happened to be engaged in a lucrative business served to sharpen railing +tongues. At long last, after much vituperation (as Alfred admitted) on +both sides, the Paveys had delivered a momentous ultimatum. They pledged +themselves to enlist at once, if Alfred agreed to join them. More, they +were prepared to answer for half-a-dozen others. To gain time for +thought, Alfred invited them to obtain some similar pledge from these +others. And, before Service that morning, the pledge had been +forthcoming. In time, if Alfred donned khaki, eight of the best would +follow so striking an example. Alfred concluded pleasantly: + +"You see, Fancy, that I'm up against it." + +Engrossed with his own exciting narrative, he had failed to notice her. +From the beginning of the tale to the end, she never moved. The +impending sword had fallen upon her frail body, lacerating cruelly every +fibre of her being. All fears, all sensibilities which from birth had +differentiated her from more robust young women, sensibilities which +dwelt upon things spiritual rather than material, sensibilities which +had been further quickened by her father's unmerited misfortunes, +constraining her early in life to envisage the future as likely to hold +more pain than pleasure, these rose up and choked utterance. Had Alfred +looked at her, at this poignant moment, his decision--not as yet +reached---might have been different. He looked away from her, staring +through the open side of the hut, seeing the rows and rows of trees, +standing like soldiers, awaiting the inevitable axe. + +Presently Fancy said quietly: + +"Have you spoken to your mother? Does she know?" + +Alfred turned, taking her hand. But the supreme moment had passed. Fancy +was now herself again, or rather she had become what her will and +conscience made her to appear--an outwardly calm young woman, who, +having swiftly read her own soul, was seeking to read the soul of the +man beside her. + +Alfred answered hesitatingly: + +"Mother's wonderful. I never quite understand her. I ain't said a word, +but back of her dear mind is something." + +"Are you going to tell her?" + +Alfred squirmed a little, certain that Mrs. Yellam would oppose his +going. And he could not reckon accurately what obedience he owed to a +mother in such a matter. He said gently: + +"Never mind that, Fancy. What do you say?" + +He held her hand tightly, but sat beside her rigid as she was. +Afterwards, again and again, she wondered what her reply would have been +if her lover, at such a crisis, had appealed to her body instead of to +her mind. If he had seized her in his arms, kissing her passionately, +evoking a passionate response from her, exciting her physical senses, +lulling to sleep her conscience, could she have resisted such an appeal? + +It was not made. Did he deliberately leave her free to speak calmly, as +he had spoken? Was he thinking of her? Was he thinking of his mother? +Who could blame him if all thought were focussed upon himself? And his +next words confirmed her suspicion that it was impossible for any man, +at such a time, to wean consideration from issues so personal and so +insistent. + +"That's why I spoke to you about William Saint. If I go, Fancy, I must +find a man to take my place, see? 'Taint likely as I'll find anybody who +knows folk as I knows 'em. And if William Saint sneaks in, maybe I won't +find what I leave when I come back." + +He spoke very earnestly, gripping her hand. Her sympathy for him welled +up, drowning all thoughts of self. Alfred had leapt to heights. She +realised the extent of the sacrifice he might make. And she felt, +instinctively, that the sacrifice would be made. A curious exaltation +possessed her. Alfred had thrilled her soul. If he went, true +patriotism, as Mr. Hamlin interpreted the elusive word, would be behind +his going. And he looked so stolid, dear man, so unconscious of the +spiritual forces stirring within him. + +She said impulsively: + +"You mean to go, Alfie?" + +"If you approve." + +She drew a deeper breath. Then the decision rested with her. If she +burst into tears, if she flung herself into his arms, if she whispered +to him, blushingly, the arguments which come pat to any woman's tongue, +when her happiness is at stake, he would stay. The burden laid upon her +seemed greater than she could bear. Her withers were wrung. In her +perplexity she lurched here and there, staggeringly. She caught at +straws. + +"And if your mother disapproves?" + +"Ah-h-h! Maybe she will." + +"But, if she does--? Answer me, Alfie. I be hanging on your words." + +He said heavily: + +"I ain't one for argument. I only know this, dear, if I go, others will +go, too. And the men are wanted, so Captain Lionel says. And if he says +so, 'tis so. I feel as I ought to go, if you approve. When it comes to +Mother, I'm weak-kneed. If I leave her out, Fancy, 'tis because I know +what's tearing her, the thought of the graves in churchyard. 'Tain't in +Mother as 'tis in you, to stand hand in hand with me, and forget her +dear self." + +Desperately, she clutched at another straw. + +"You may be right, Alfie, about Mr. Saint--I don't like him. I feel, +someway, that he will do as you say, sneak in behind your back, and rob +you of what you have worked so hard for. Could you stand that?" + +"'Twould be a rare twister, Fancy. But the men are wanted." + +He spoke with no fire, no enthusiasm. The men were wanted. That, +apparently, had become an obsession. Dared she temporise any further? +Was this the opportunity, never to be presented again, of which Mr. +Hamlin had spoken? + +"If you feel like that, Alfie, you must go. I--I couldn't lift a finger +to hold you back. I am proud," her voice faltered, "to belong to such a +man." + +The victory was won. + +Reaction followed quickly. They clung to each other. Fancy cried, +knowing that tears would lighten her heart. Alfred kissed them away. He +set himself, resolutely, the task of cheering her up. The war might be +over before he was ready to serve in France. William Saint had his own +business. One that exacted constant attention. No doubt a trusty fellow +could be found to drive the 'bus. + +At tea, no trace of the storm could be discerned on their smiling faces. + +But Mrs. Yellam knew. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS + + +Alfred Yellam enlisted. But only seven out of the eight other young men +enlisted with him. To the amazement of Nether-Applewhite, Adam Mucklow, +a married man, took the place of the shirker. And this was not under +pressure from Uncle, although he tried (and failed) to "touch" old +Captain Davenant for another half-sovereign. Possibly the sight of the +effulgent George--a younger brother not held in the highest esteem by +Adam--had its effect; possibly, also, Adam had been swept off his large +feet by Lionel Pomfret; possibly, again, Hamlin's good seed may have +sprouted in somewhat thin soil. Motives must not be analysed too +closely. + +Susan Yellam and Jane Mucklow said nothing. Susan may have realised that +protest would be wasted; Jane, probably, was just as shrewd. Each woman +cherished a bitter grievance, hiding it grimly from inquisitive eyes. +Each read the heart of the other, and still remained silent. Each, +however, was proud to be the mother of a valiant son. Mrs. Yellam never +knew that a tremendous decision had been left to Fancy. She took for +granted that Fancy felt as she did, and the pale, anxious face of the +girl confirmed this conviction. Alfred, you may be sure, made Fancy +promise to keep silence concerning what passed in the fox-covert. To her +dying day let the mother believe that the son had acted "on his own," +without consulting another. Fancy sighed and consented. What did it +matter? What did anything matter now that Alfred was going? During these +last few days, the spiritual part of her seemed dead. Triumph appeared +to have killed it! But her will prevailed over the weakness of the +flesh. Alfred must see no more tears. Her smile was the most pathetic +memory which he took with him from Nether-Applewhite. + +Before "joining-up," he gave two presents to the women he loved. To his +mother he brought a wire-haired fox-terrier, pure white save for one +round black spot between the ears and an oval black spot upon the loins. +The dog was nine months old and clean thoroughbred, the son of a famous +prize-winner. Alfred paid five pounds for him. Mrs. Yellam was +profoundly moved; and the dog seemed to acclaim her as mistress at +sight, jumping into her ample lap and licking her hand. + +"What shall we call him, Mother?" asked Alfred. + +Mrs. Yellam studied the dog's lineaments. His eyes sparkled as shrewdly +as her own. + +"He looks wonnerful wise," she said. "Wise as Solomon, he be." + +"Then we'll call him--Solomon." + +And it was so. Solomon--soon abbreviated into "Sol"--wagged his short +tail approvingly. + +To Fancy Alfred presented a bicycle, and with it these words: + +"Vicarage is nigh three-quarters of a mile from Mother's cottage. I want +you to see Mother whenever 'tis possible. I know her. She'll keep +herself to herself, thinking her own thoughts, and they'll be hard +thoughts, Fancy. You'll help to soften 'em, dear, won't you?" + +"Indeed I will." + +"Parson'll let you off, afternoons, for an hour, maybe; and the bike'll +make all the difference. I see you nipping down in no time." + +"I shall love that, if Mr. Hamlin can spare me." + +Alfred laughed gaily. + +"I've spoken a word to him. And a kinder gentleman, in spite of his +coldish face, I never met. He shook hands with me, and told me you +should have a whiff of fresh air." + +And thus it was cosily arranged. + +To find a responsible, capable fellow to take his place as village +carrier, and to drive the precious 'bus, was not so easy of achievement. +But this, too, was managed through Mr. Hamlin. Alfred said uneasily: + +"I ask you, sir, to keep an eye on William Saint." + +"William Saint?" + +"He's crafty as any fox, sir, and a rare pusher. Mother fears that he +may push himself into my good business." + +Hamlin promised to bear this possibility in mind. Then Alfred, with +groanings and travailings, delivered himself of the last burden on his +mind: + +"I'm sore troubled about Mother." + +Hamlin held his tongue. + +"She's taking this hard, but not a word does she say, not one. She +thinks, I know, that God Almighty has forsaken her, pore soul. Such a +mort o' trouble as she's had, too. My going seems the last straw. +'Twouldn't be so bad, if all the young men had gone first." + +"I can imagine what she feels, Alfred. This is a time of sore trial to +all of us, and, perhaps, the strongest suffer most. I will do what I can +to comfort her, but I can do so little. In all my life I have never felt +before how cheap mere words are. Now, go your way with a glad heart. Put +these anxieties from you, hopefully, and so you will do your duty the +better. God bless you!" + +Alfred duly departed. + +Before Lionel returned to France, the Squire's ardent desire was +granted. He became the happy grandfather of a stout boy, with his sire's +blue eyes and clear skin--a ten-pounder! + +To celebrate this glorious event, the Squire built a shrine and +dedicated it to the men of Nether-Applewhite who had answered the call +to arms. It took the form of a fountain, with a granite trough for +watering horses. Inside the fountain might be found a great slab of +white marble with the names of the young fellows, in order, inscribed +upon it in dull gold lettering, a very notable monument, as Uncle +observed. It stood below the Church, opposite to the _Pomfret Arms_, in +an open space where roads branched. Folk, from far and near, came to +look at it. + +From the recruiting point of view, the fountain, as was generally +admitted, furnished inspiration together with pure water to thirsty +souls. + +When Lionel went back to France, a drab pall of apathy settled again +upon the village. Mrs. Yellam spent every morning at Pomfret Court, +returning to her cottage after the mid-day meal, which she helped to +serve. Fancy would dash down to see her after five o'clock tea. Within +six weeks Alfred appeared in khaki, with forty-eight hours' leave. He +had joined an infantry regiment, somewhat to his regret, for he had a +leg for a kilt, and remembered the resplendent appearance of "No Account +Harry." + +"The Highlanders were in my mind, Mother. I'd a notion to enlist with +them, but 'twas not to be." + +Susan Yellam said reflectively: + +"I prefer the Grannydeer Guards, to they Seafarin' Highlanders, Alfie." + +"Ah-h-h! I might have gone for a horse-soldier, but when they told me +'twould be my pleasure and duty to keep my horse cleaner than myself, I +thought twice about it. 'Tis a hard life, dear, but I feel wonderful +strong, with a tremendous stomach for my victuals." + +His appearance delighted Fancy. + +They were photographed together, arm in crook, travelling to Salisbury +as passengers in Alfred's 'bus, which provoked many jests. But when +Alfred went back to duty the corners in two hearts seemed more empty +than before. + +Meanwhile, Tommies had taken the place of Belgians at Pomfret Court, +much to the satisfaction of the maids in the village. They were an +amazing set of fellows, so the Squire decided, guests after his own +heart, always ready to crack a joke, grousing about trifles, simply +splendid when they discoursed about the war. Some of them, unlike the +Belgians, were impatient to return to the front. They talked pleasantly +of the enemy whom they spoke of generically as "Fritz." The +kindest-hearted of the first lot, a little Cockney, bubbling over with +fun and high spirits, ever ready to help the "Sisters" in any job that +came to the one hand that had not been left in France, gloried in the +distinction of having been in a bayonet charge. The Squire, much +interested, asked for details, gleefully forthcoming. + +"Yer see red, sir. I got after a fat 'Un. Lord lumme! 'E run a fair +treat, 'e did. But I stuck him to rights. I lost my 'ead though. +Couldn't see nothink nor nobody except 'im. In my silly 'aste I missed +some fine opportoonities." + +"Opportunities?" + +"Wounded 'Uns, sir, lyin' there to me 'and. I might 'ave 'ad +'arf-a-dozen notches on my old rifle, instead of one!" + +"Bless my soul!" exclaimed Sir Geoffrey. + +"Yer see, sir, we knows what they done to women and children." + +By this time. George Mucklow and the first to join were at the front, +and every Sunday, during Morning Service, Mr. Hamlin would stand up, +before the Litany, and read out the names on the Roll of Honour. The +congregation, after Service, remained quietly in the church till the +National Anthem had been sung. + +Mrs. Yellam sat alone in her pew, rigidly upright. + +At home, alone in the evening, she talked to her dog. Solomon would sit +in front of her, staring up into her massive face, with one ear +half-cocked, very alert, very sympathetic. + +"You be a wondersome dog." + +Solomon's tail flickered. + +"You knows more'n they donkeys as walks on two legs." + +Solomon winked. + +"You knows what a hard old flint I be, same as I digs up in garden." + +Solomon laid a protesting paw upon her knee. + +"You knows that I be tried beyond my powers, that I be mazed and dazed +beyond what tongue can tell." + +Solomon leaped into her lap, and attempted to lick her face. + +"No, no, Solly; my kissing days be over." + +Solomon refused to believe this. + +"You knows, too, that my Alferd be going to the wars, and he won't come +back. 'Twill kill that pore white-faced lil' maid. But 'twon't kill me, +I be too tough, Sol. I be getting tougher. And I get no taste out o' +life neither. I be so wicked that, times, I could lift my hand to kill +they who stay behind, guzzling ale, grinning because they think +theirselves so clever! I fair wonders that you can love so wicked an old +'ooman as I be." + +Solomon, as a last reassuring protest, would curl up and fall asleep. +Mrs. Yellam would sit on, staring into the fire, trying to adjust the +workings of the Divine Mind with her own perplexed intelligence. Often +kindly sleep would come to the rescue, and she would wake with a start +to find the fire burnt out and the kitchen cold. But Solomon lay snug +and warm against her. + +Many persons, besides Mrs. Yellam, were mazed and dazed during these +Spring days. At Neuve Chapelle, our cavalry had their feet in stirrup +ready to ride down the enemy, when a thick mist rolled up and balked +them of their prey. Jupiter Pluvius seemed to be fighting against us. +The appalling earthquake in Italy was joyously affirmed by Germans to be +God's judgment upon an ally who had deserted them. Strikes in the +industrial parts, Irish troubles going from bad to worse, seemed to +indicate the chastening hand of Omnipotence. + +But we had accomplished a mighty miracle. + +Five hundred thousand men were in France, and not a life lost during the +perilous operations connected with transport. + +And then came the crushing disaster of the _Lusitania_. A wave of horror +and rage swept over the country. Till now, Lissauer's "Hymn of Hate" had +aroused ridicule, not resentment, amongst English-speaking peoples. The +Belgian atrocities, known in all their horror to very few, had been +accepted as the handiwork of brutes driven mad by drink and blood-lust, +not as the systematic, inspired doctrine of Frightfulness. But when all +Germany rose up to justify the slaughter of helpless women and children, +when streets were beflagged, medals struck, and the schools held +holiday, the nation began, at last, to grasp the truth. Might meant to +stick at nothing. + +Recruiting, in the rural districts, received a sharp stimulus. + +Fancy, lying awake at night, shed many tears, but none before Mrs. +Yellam. The pair, so strangely different, got on well together, because, +so Susan said, the girl was not a chatter-box. Often they would meet and +part without exchanging more than a dozen words. Fancy would help with +the work, the never-ending cleaning and sweeping, or take some sewing +and sit by the kitchen fire in silence. These quiet ways endeared her +more and more to Alfred's mother, and occasionally, very seldom, Fancy +would be vouchsafed a glimpse of an indurated heart. She had noticed +that Mrs. Yellam avoided any direct reference to the Deity, Whose name, +before the war, had been so often on her lips, the personal God, Whose +guiding finger, even in trivial, domestic affairs, could be so plainly +seen. One day, on the eve of Alfred's departure for France, Fancy said +nervously: + +"God will be with Alfred." + +Mrs. Yellam said quickly: + +"He be wi' the Kayser, too, seemin'ly." + +Instantly she closed her lips, as if fearful that more might leak from +them. Fancy remained discreetly silent. She comforted herself with this +reflection: faith in works sustained this unhappy old woman. She +laboured abundantly for others at Pomfret Court, and tended her garden +diligently so that she might have fruit and flowers and vegetables to +bestow upon poorer neighbours. In church, her responses were clear and +regular, her deportment irreproachable, but she never discussed the +sermon, once a favourite mental exercise, and Fancy came to the +conclusion that she no longer listened to it, too much obsessed by her +own perplexities. + +About this time Nether-Applewhite was electrified out of its apathy by +an extraordinary event, something so unexpected that Hamlin himself, who +had foreshadowed such a remote possibility in his sermon on Patriotism, +began to wonder if he had been inspired. + +George Mucklow won the Victoria Cross! + +This heavy, stolid young man, who shut both eyes when his shins were +imperilled by a cricket-ball, who was "afeard wi' maids," who had been +driven to the colours before the toe of a thick boot, performed one of +those deeds that thrill an Empire. Fortunately for him, the tremendous +opportunity of which Hamlin had spoken came at a moment when Authority +was looking on, and able to record what took place. George confessed +afterwards that at the time he didn't know what he did, or how he did +it. Out of some subconscious zone surged the irresistible impulse +blindly obeyed. A shell fell in the trenches at a moment when the +officer on duty was making his rounds. Not an "Archie" or a "Black +Maria" but something smaller than a football. Dozens of men were close +to it. George darted past the officer and hurled himself upon it. + +_It didn't explode!_ + +Within a week, George's photograph was given pride of place in +half-a-dozen newspapers. And then the supreme decoration was conferred. +He returned home on leave; the King pinned to his tunic the bronze +cross; Jane Mucklow and Uncle witnessed the ceremony; George came back +to Nether-Applewhite with his parents, and was the hero of another +function when Sir Geoffrey Pomfret presented him with a gold watch and +chain, a tribute from the Squire of the parish, and a well-lined purse, +the gift of the parishioners. + +The effect on Uncle may be imagined. For ever after he associated +himself with George as owning an undivided half interest in the cross, +and in describing the glorious deed he assumed the royal plural, and +with it some of the attributes of a monarch. + +"Us was standing at attention," he would say, "as I be standing now, +when the dam thing falls slam-bang in front of we. Neighbours, 'twas a +moment as won't bear thinking on. Many souls all unfit for Kingdom Come. +What does we do? We falls atop o' that there cannon-ball--'twas big +enough to blow a thousand fellers to glory--and hugs it to our buzzums. +'Tain't a thing to brag about, but us was in the noospapers, and--and, +well, you knows the end on't--Buckingham Pallis! And, believe me or not, +neighbours, but this be sober truth. Me and King Garge was hobnobbing +together for the space of one mortial minute, just so friendly and kind +as true brothers. I nodded to 'un, as I nods to you, and, by Jo! he nods +back to me." + +Jane Mucklow had believed that George would perish in his first action. +He had come triumphantly through half-a-dozen. And, to-day, he wore the +proudest decoration that England's King can bestow. At a bound, she +became an impassioned optimist. She discerned clearly the hand of +Providence. King George was beheld as the Lord's Anointed. Queen Mary +towered higher than he as the sacrosanct Mother. Mrs. Mucklow had her +tale to tell, and told it with Uncle's unction and satisfaction. + +"Queen Mary looked at my Garge as if 'twas her own dear son. Yes, she +did. And then she smiles sweetly at me. I tell 'ee this--Queeny Mary was +just so proud o' my Garge as I be. A good, kind 'ooman! I allows that, +now and again, I ha' raised my blasphemious voice against they crowned +heads, believing in my every-day way that they wore golden crowns when +we pore folks was a-wearing made-over bonnets. Such wicked thoughts be +clean gone from me. I be fair aching to sing 'God save the Queen' next +Sunday morning." + +A neighbour remarked timidly: + +"Lard bless 'ee, Jane Mucklow, we sings 'God save the King.'" + +Jane answered solemnly: + +"You sings what you please. I began my life singing 'God save the +Queen.' And I means to sing it again next Sunday." + +But the glory that encompassed her nephew's thick head as with a halo +flickered like a farthing dip in the mind of Susan Yellam. Her poor +heart was lacerated by envy and jealousy. If George were indeed chosen +by Providence to wear the Victoria Cross, what decoration would He award +to her Alfred? The press had laid emphasis upon George being amongst the +first to volunteer. If Queeny Mary knew the whole truth, would she have +smiled sweetly at George's mother? Not she! + +She laid the matter before Solomon that same night, after the memorable +function which took place at the Shrine. + +"Solly, my soul be in sore trouble." + +Solomon considered this attentively. + +"Yes, my dog, I be setting in the seat o' the scornful. I be weary o' my +groanings. I ha' conceived sorrow and brought forth ungodliness." + +Solomon whined. + +"Why be this change come upon me, Solly? 'Tis written: Upon the ungodly +He shall rain fire and brimstone, storm and tempest. But, to-day, +seemingly, that be the lot o' the godly and the fatherless. To the +ungodly be given Victoria Crosses." + +Solomon sat up and begged his mistress to be silent. + +She concluded sorrowfully: + +"I be cast down, and they that trouble me will rejoice at it." + +Solomon leapt into her lap, and thrust his nice cold nose against her +cheek. + +Hamlin visited her from time to time, but as friend, not priest. Wisely, +he bided his time to speak, wondering when the right moment would come. +She received him respectfully, answered his questions, enquired after +Mr. Edward, who had just received his Sam Brown belt, and then relapsed +into exasperating silence. + +Meanwhile, Mr. William Saint had not neglected his opportunities. The +man chosen by Hamlin and Alfred to "carry on" during Alfred's absence +was sober and honest, but a poor talker. Saint bought a motor-'bus in +May, which he used at first to take passengers to and from the railway +station, some four miles distant. At the same time, he made arrangements +to entertain summer guests, renting a small house with a garden +overlooking the Avon, which served as an annexe for middle class +trippers, elderly spinsters who drew in water-colours, officers' wives +with children, and professional men seeking a little cheap fishing. +Saint drove the 'bus himself, engaging a good-looking young woman to +take his place in the bar. Now and again he made expeditions to +Salisbury, filling his 'bus with strangers who wished to see the +Cathedral. Before June was out, he started a bi-weekly trip. In July he +began carrying parcels. + +Hamlin, accordingly, said a word to the Squire. But what could be done? +The Squire and he stuck faithfully to the regular carrier. Others +consulted their own convenience. Mrs. Yellam told Fancy that Alfred's +business was steadily diminishing in volume. + +"Have you told Alfred?" asked Fancy. + +"No. And don't 'ee tell him, neither." + +"Not me. Anyways, so long as dear Alfred be safe and well, I shan't +worry about money matters." + +Mrs. Yellam said tartly: + +"Folks wi' no money to lose can allers sleep sound at nights." Then, +realising that she had slapped an innocent cheek, she added in a +pleasanter voice: "If Alferd keep safe and well, he'll downscramble this +raskil so soon as he be homealong." + +Fancy kissed her. + +"He will be homealong soon," she whispered. + +"How do 'ee know? You ain't got a letter saying so?" + +"N-n-no." + +Mrs. Yellam's voice became testy again. + +"Then how do 'ee know?" + +Fancy hesitated, blushing. But Mrs. Yellam pressed her point. Finally, +the girl made confession. When Alfred went to France, she had consulted +the cards. + +Mrs. Yellam exploded. What ridiculous notions young maids got, to be +sure! Cards, indeed! Very scornfully, she informed Fancy of the +existence of a so-called wise woman, half-gypsy, who lived in a +tumble-down cottage at Ocknell. + +"You go and see that old grammer. 'Twill cost 'ee sixpence. For a +shillin' she'll tell 'ee a fine fortin, marry 'ee to a young lord, and +make 'ee the mother o' nine children. I ha' no patience wi' such +tricks." + +Fancy said humbly: + +"Alfred thinks it foolishness, just as you do, but ..." + +"Well?" + +"The lady in Salisbury, as taught me, did say that I should marry a +soldier. Alfred laughed at that, till--till he became one." + +"You bain't married to a soldier yet." + +"No. That's true." + +Fancy sighed. Mrs. Yellam went on with some knitting. Suddenly, she said +sharply: + +"What did they cards say?" + +Fancy smiled faintly. + +"They said that Alfred would come back--soon." + +Mrs. Yellam knitted on. After a long pause, she pronounced a verdict. + +"I bain't one to talk about what I don't understand. If so be as Alfred +comes back soon, and if he marries 'ee, I may own up that cards do tell +truth sometimes." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE EMPTY PEW + + +After her Alfred went to the front, Mrs. Yellam's interest in the +Tommies who had been "over the top" became more acute. She listened to +everything said, regardless of a timely caution from Lionel Pomfret, +who, before he rejoined his battalion, warned her that Mr. Atkins, with +all his glorious qualities, was not too scrupulous a respecter of the +truth. When the wounded men fell to talking amongst themselves, or +before sympathetic females, the hypercritical might have noted a valiant +determination on the part of each speaker to go "one better" than his +predecessor. And the essential fact that these boys, most of them under +twenty-five years of age, laughed at and chaffed each other when +relating horrors merely piled Pelion upon Ossa in the mind of Mrs. +Yellam. It seemed to her--and to how many more mothers?--that none could +escape death or mutilation. One man was dumb from shell-shock. A "Black +Maria" had buried him and ten others. He alone survived, unable to tell +in speech what he had undergone. Mrs. Yellam paid this man particular +attention, because her imagination was lively enough to realise what +loss of speech would mean to herself. She told Jane Mucklow, with +portentous shakings of the head, that the poor lad had lost his tongue +for evermore. What else could be expected? Jane, now in happier mood, +remarked sententiously that miracles still happened. Mrs. Yellam smiled +grimly, wondering whether Jane was thinking of what George had done and +accounted that achievement a miracle. And Jane could afford to take a +rosy view of life, inasmuch as Adam was still in England, and George, +with a view to stimulating recruiting, had been given a snug billet at +the dépôt of his regiment. All the credit due to George had, by this +time, been assumed by Uncle. He not only took part, as has been said, in +the heart-thrilling exploit, but assured everybody that the valour of +his son had been begotten in him by a sire known far and wide to be +without fear, the Bayard of the countryside! Jane accepted this +hypothesis with creditable derision. She would say in reply to strangers +avid for details: "Do 'ee talk to Garge's father. _He was there!_ Garge +be his father's son from stem to starn. My boy'd ha' behaved hisself +very different. He'd ha' crawled down a rabbit-hole, he would, so be as +one were handy." + +Some strangers, pleased with this whimsical exposition, pressed money +into Jane's hand, which she accepted with a humble and grateful heart, +adding even more slily: "Thank 'ee very kindly. Money be scarce wi' us, +since my dear husband's son won the Victoria Cross, because the father +o' such a notable hero has to drink his brave boy's health so many times +a day." + +One memorable night, when most of the Tommies were asleep in the Saloon, +the dumb man burst into excited speech, and talked for about two hours, +to the delight of seventeen comrades. When Mrs. Yellam heard the +wonderful news next morning, she was immensely comforted. That afternoon +Fancy noticed a change in her, and was emboldened to strike iron when it +happened to be hot. + +"Miracles do happen," she affirmed, with an odd expression upon her pale +little face. + +Mrs. Yellam passed no remark on this. In her opinion, formulated long +before the war, miracles had been wrought long ago in the misty, +prehistoric times of the apostles, and not since. Fancy continued +nervously: + +"A miracle happened to me." + +"What do you say, child? A miracle happened to--_you_?" + +Fancy nodded. As a little girl, during her school-days, she had told her +tale many times with the abominable conviction that it failed to +convince, although it might excite astonishment and sympathy. When she +grew older and more reserved she ceased to tell it, wincing from +incredulity. She hated to tell it to this austere old woman, whose +tongue could be so sharp, but impulse conquered apprehension. + +"I was four years old at the time. And I was playing in the street just +opposite to our house with some other children. A great dog came rushing +down on us, snapping right and left. Folks said afterwards he was mad, +but I don't know. Someway he was killed, so Father told me, before that +was made certain; killed and buried." + +"A mad dog! My!" + +"The other children ran away. I--I didn't." + +"Why ever not?" + +"I couldn't. I stood still, all of a dreadful tremble. And he came bang +at me." + +"What a fearsome tale! You pore lil' maid!" + +Up to this point of the narrative, Fancy had generally received just +such sympathy, particularly when telling the story to mothers. She +paused; her cheeks flushed; but her large eyes rested tranquilly upon +the eyes of Susan Yellam. + +"Well, dear, go on!" + +"When the dog was quite close, I saw Mother." + +Mrs. Yellam gasped. + +"You saw your mother, who was dead!" + +"I never think of Mother as dead. Yes, I saw Mother standing between me +and the dog. She never looked at me; she looked at the dog. And the dog +saw her." + +"I never heard such a tale in all my life." + +"The dog saw her. He stopped of a sudden, turned, and went +back--howling. And I howled, too. Mother turned as the dog turned, and +give me one beautiful look. Then she went." + +Mrs. Yellam grasped the arms of her chair, still staring into Fancy's +artless face. But no outburst of incredulity escaped from her as Fancy +had feared it would. Her logical mind grappled with the facts as +presented. She said, after a long pause: + +"You thought you saw her." + +"No. I did see her--plain as plain." + +"But, Fancy dear, seeing as she died afore you was born, how did 'ee +know 'twas she?" + +"I'd seen Mother ever so often before." + +"When and how?" + +After some hesitation, Fancy narrated, with many details, her psychic +experiences not only with her mother but with the four Evangelists. The +girl's mordant anxiety that the astounding tale should be believed bit +deep into the elder woman's heart. To Fancy's delight no incredulity was +expressed. And Mrs. Yellam's face remained calm and kind. Solomon +listened, also, with singular alertness and an eager intelligence which, +to Fancy, indicated full belief. Indeed, Solomon seemed to be saying to +himself: "Yes, yes, we know about that. We see things every day that +would astonish all of you, if we were allowed to talk about them." And, +in the middle of the story, the dog, that never showed any affection for +others in the presence of his mistress, leapt suddenly into Fancy's lap +and remained there. Long afterwards, Mrs. Yellam admitted that this mark +of confidence upon Sol's part had impressed her. Inwardly she explained +things quite to her satisfaction. She beheld Fancy as a four-year-old, a +tiny mite, all eyes, physically weak, the victim of a perfervid +imagination. Her own little girl, Lizzie, physically robust, would +invent somewhat similar stories about tramps and sweeps quite as +apocryphal as these tales of communings with Matthew and Mark. She +remembered smacking Lizzie, and telling her that she was a little liar. +No doubt, Fancy's father, rather a weakling, has encouraged the mite. +Since Alfred's engagement, Mrs. Yellam had met Mr. Broomfield, and +summed him up trenchantly as half a man. + +However, she kept such thoughts to herself, saying quietly: + +"You be a strange girl, Fancy, but you speaks what you believes to be +sober truth, and I love 'ee." + +Fancy had to be satisfied with this. + +The first year of the war came to an end. + +So far, Nether-Applewhite had been fortunate. None of the young men had +been killed; none had been seriously wounded. And it was generally held +that "Fritz" couldn't stick another winter. Alfred became a sergeant. +Mrs. Yellam appeared in her pew, next Sunday, wearing a new bonnet. But, +coming out of church, she met William Saint, and cut him dead. She now +thought of him, habitually, as a "Prooshian," out for world-dominion. +When her Alfred returned from the wars, he would smash William Saint. +The triumph of such a "sneak" must be short-lived. Like the Kayser, he +had sold himself, body and soul, to Satan. Satan would claim his own in +God A'mighty's good time. Renewed belief in a Personal Deity had crept +back into a heart less indurated. But He remained there, so to speak, on +sufferance. At any moment, He might be driven out, as before. +Omnipotence, so Mrs. Yellam argued during many vigils, could not be +reasonably regarded as such if Satan triumphed unduly. It is to be +feared that a daily motor-'bus service to Salisbury and back under the +auspices of William Saint would have been regarded as a Satanic triumph. +But such a service, as yet, had not been inaugurated. + +Alfred wrote home once a week, alternately to Fancy and his mother. The +life agreed with him. Obviously he accepted rough and smooth +philosophically, regarding himself as a part of a vast machine that +would "rampage" on with or without him. Although he was careful to keep +from his mother and Fancy the horrors which they heard from the wounded +soldiers, now and again some careless phrase would reveal, +illuminatingly, everything that the good fellow wished to suppress. + +"You enjoy your food as never was," he wrote, "when you know that any +square meal may be the last. A chum of mine got it yesterday. And he was +smoking a Woodbine I gave him. The man next him, as told me all about +it, finished the Woodbine. I couldn't help laughing." + +"Sometimes," said Mrs. Yellam, deliberately, "I thinks they be all mad." +She turned almost fiercely upon Fancy. "Why did he laugh, my boy as +hated to kill a fly?" + +Fancy hazarded a conjecture. + +"Men are not so very, very different from us women. I often laugh to +save myself crying." + +Mrs. Yellam admitted that there might be something in this. + +The Squire was busy with his bailiff, fattening bullocks, and, generally +speaking, trying to increase his flocks and herds. In this task, he +found an enthusiastic partner in Fishpingle, who possessed two obsessing +interests: love of the land and love of the Pomfrets. Nobody, except the +Squire and Lady Pomfret knew that this quiet, handsome old man, so +distinguished in appearance, and so choice in his use of words, might +have been lord of the manor, had he marched into life along the broad +highway which leads from the altar. Fate ordained otherwise. Fishpingle +had been constrained to stroll placidly along a by-path. He hoped that +he would so walk till the end. + +His point of view was characteristic. Of the more complex designs of +Providence, which such men as Hamlin were seeking to elucidate, +Fishpingle took no cognisance. He admitted gravely that they lay beyond +his vision. But he was quite certain that the land, the backbone of +England, must and would receive the attention which, before the war, had +been so unwisely withheld. He had always wanted to see his country +independent of necessary supplies--wheat, cattle, sheep and +hogs--imported from other countries. Upon that peg he had hung his +philosophy. And now, towards the close of his days, he believed that +what he had prayed for might come to pass. To that end he was prepared +to consecrate such energies as were left to him. Incidentally, his +enthusiasm served to wean Sir Geoffrey's mind from acrimonious criticism +of politicians. To provide in the present means that might fill the +inexorable demand of the future absorbed the thoughts of Squire and +Bailiff. + +Towards the middle of September, two Nether-Applewhite men were killed +in action. A week later, Lionel Pomfret was reported "severely wounded." +Sir Geoffrey crossed over to France. Lady Pomfret remained at the Court +in command of the hospital. She moved amongst the men with the same +gracious smile upon her lips; courage and faith--those great twin +brethren--sustained her; but the news was very bad, so serious that Mrs. +Yellam hardened once more her heart. Lionel had been shot through the +back, and lay, half-paralysed and in constant pain, in a receiving +hospital. Upon the Sunday after these details reached Nether-Applewhite, +Susan Yellam sat huddled up in her pew, and almost mumbled the +responses. Alone with Fancy, her sorrow broke into words: + +"I be thinking o' keeping away from church next Sunday." + +"Mother--!" + +The dear word escaped from Fancy's lips unconsciously. She had never +used it before, except in her thoughts. + +"What be you callin' me?" + +Fancy knelt beside her, stroking her rough hand. + +"I called you 'Mother.' Do you mind?" + +"No, no; but I bain't worthy to be your mother. If Master Lionel be +taken, Alferd'll go, too. I can't bring myself to look at my lady. I +can't look Pa'son square i' the face, neither. I reads the Bible, Fancy, +and the holy words do seem to mock me. I ain't been near those two pore +souls as ha' lost their boys. For why? I ain't got no comfort for 'em." + +Fancy said desperately: + +"If you keep away from church, others will pass remarks." + +"As if I keered about that!" + +"Wouldn't you care if I stayed away, just because you did?" + +Mrs. Yellam considered this. Her face relaxed. + +"Maybe. Anyways, I'll go next Sunday; But, child, it be sinful to sit in +God's House wi' such a soul as mine." + +Fancy said in a low voice: + +"Your _soul_ is right. You mind what Mr. Hamlin said about that? George +Mucklow won his Cross because our souls are always right." + +Mrs. Yellam shook her head. Then an idea came to her. A faint smile +flickered about her lips. + +"Souls may take a notion to leave us for a spell. My soul seems to have +flown out o' winder, as it did when Lizzie died." + +"But it came back." + +"Yes; that be true; it came back. Forgi' me, child, for shovin' my +wickedness on your lil' shoulders." + +"Dear Mother, you must talk to somebody." + +"When I be alone, evenings, I talks to Solly." + +"Well, I never!" + +"And he understands me, yas, he do. He be very human, and a gert +sinner." + +Fancy laughed; and the pretty trickle of sound may have melted a little +ice. Susan Yellam laughed with her. + +"Solly--a sinner?" + +"Ay. He be a black murderer. He killed a cat day afore yesterday, and +come back to me, all over scratches, and wi' a look as if--as if he'd +been churched." + +"What a naughty hypocrite! I wish he hadn't killed the poor cat." + +"'Twas a vagabond cat, no better than she should be. I scolded Solly, +and told 'un to kill William Saint's tabby, if so be as he couldn't help +breaking the Sixth Commandment. I be no better than Solly." + +Fancy looked round. + +"Where is the naughty dog?" + +"Ah-h-h! He be courtin' some four-legged hussy. I knows 'un. Last night +he come in after bed-time, so pleased as Punch. There be Original Sin in +animals, as ther be in us. And feeling as I does, 'tis easy to forgive +Solly his trespasses. Now you knows nearly everything." + +As the days succeeded each other, slightly better news came from France +about Lionel Pomfret. At the end of the month the Squire brought him +home. He lay upon his back; pain had become intermittent instead of +constant. A great specialist said that he might, in time, recover the +use of his lower limbs. Not a complaint leaked from his lips. Susan +Yellam accepted this partial recovery from what had been deemed a lethal +wound as a sign vouchsafed to her. Jealousy, however, was kindled by the +professional nurse, who kept from her patient an old friend lavish with +bull's-eyes in happier days and doubly anxious on that account to +minister faithfully to him in the unhappy present. + +London was visited by Zeppelins. Nether-Applewhite would have accepted +this fresh proof of Hun "frightfulness" with more Christian resignation, +if one of the villagers had not happened to be present during the +October raid which caused such destruction in the Strand. Uncle heard +the tale at first hand, and repeated it everywhere. Martin Mowland, the +bricklayer, had travelled to London to see his son, who was lying, +desperately wounded, in the Charing Cross Hospital. According to Martin +the Zeppelin had hovered just above his head, about tree-high. Then +bombs had fallen with terrifying explosions. Uncle supplied +supplementary detail to his own audience at the _Sir John Barleycorn_. + +"I says to Martin: 'What did 'ee do, old friend?' And he says to me: +'Uncle,' he says, 'I thought my hour was come, but I legs it away so +fast as I can to my lodgings....'" + +At this point Uncle, being an accomplished _raconteur_, would pause. +Then he would add impressively: + +"Neighbours, I don't blame 'un, although speaking for myself, I knows +that I should ha' stood still, onless, maybe, I'd seen some nice lil' +ale-house handy. Well, Martin, he legs it homealong so fast as if a +hornet's nest were tied to his starn-sheets, and presently he pulls up +like to catch his breath. And then he takes a squint upwards. Dang me, +'tis hard to believe some true stories. But Martin Mowland do take his +oath to this. He'd run the most of a mile, giving tongue, too, I'll +warrant. And when he looks up, as I be a Christian man, that there Zep +had follered he, and was slam bang over his head." + +"Lard preserve us! Whatever did 'un do?" + +Uncle solemnly put the finishing touch to the narrative. + +"What did Martin do? He stands stone-still, and puts up his old +umbrella." + +Many persons in the village believe to this day that Martin Mowland +saved his life by putting up his ancient umbrella. Unquestionably +Providence had stretched forth a Hand to preserve a worthy man who, as +bricklayer, could ill be spared. + +During November, it will be remembered, Conscription was admitted to be +inevitable, and shirkers were adjured to join up before they were +"fetched." Many did so. Near Salisbury was established a vast camp of +Canadians, jolly fellows who swung, route-marching, through +Nether-Applewhite, winking gaily at the girls, and setting an inspiring +example to the young men still clinging to the soil. + +Susan Yellam, spectacles upon nose, read all articles in her paper which +dealt drastically with recalcitrants. + +Would they take William Saint? + +This question obsessed her. William was single and of military age. But +his usefulness in the village could not be gainsaid, even by Captain +Davenant. Of late, William had begun to cough, particularly in his +sanded bar-parlour, or when he happened to be talking to Squire or +Parson. His yellow gills confirmed the general opinion that he enjoyed +poor health. Susan Yellam maintained that Willum was malingering, and +deserved such obloquy as descended upon the empty head of Ezekiel +Busketts, the brother of the sometime "odd man" at Pomfret Court. +Ezekiel, presenting himself for examination before a medical board, had +provided himself with an ancient truss, once the property of a deceased +father. Unfortunately, he adjusted the truss so improperly that +detection and ridicule fell upon him. Uncle, being distantly of kin to +Ezekiel, covered his retreat with no harsher comment than this: + +"'Twas a very sad mishap." + +Susan, to return to William Saint, asked for a "sign," which, if +unfavourable, might be taken to indicate how deeply she had incurred +Divine displeasure. Some people, with greater advantages than Mrs. +Yellam, believe devoutly in signs. Lionel Pomfret's slow recovery had +been thankfully accepted by Susan as a sign that Satan was not having it +all his own way in Nether-Applewhite. If William Saint was removed from +the scene of his time-serving activities, Mrs. Yellam felt that a signal +victory over the powers of Evil would have been achieved. Such a +victory, in a true religious sense, would re-tighten the spiritual +fibres that, before the war, had bound her so closely to Omnipotence. +Nay, more; she dared to presume that if Willum went, her Alfred would +return, and pick up the scattered parcels of his good business as of +yore. + +She confided all this to Solomon, but not to Fancy. + +Uncle furthered her wishes without any "mumbudgetting" between brother +and sister. He disliked Saint, because his ale was watered. But he liked +to meet his cronies at the _Sir John Barleycorn_. Being a brave, candid +fellow, with a half-interest in the V. C., he told Saint to his face +what he thought of the ale. + +"I likes my ale, and I bain't ashamed on't. I see eye to eye wi' this +yere Horatio Bottomley about they pumpuritans, which I make bold to say +includes milkmen" (Saint sold milk) "so well as publicans. Me and +Bottomley do think just alike about knaves, hypocrites, and they as +grinds the face o' the pore. Much o' what I read in Johnny Bull might +ha' been written by me. I comes back to my tankard o' ale." + +"You allers do, Uncle." + +"What I likes about my first tankard be this. If 'tis good ale, such as +used to be set afore a man, I drinks it wi' a grateful heart, a-smackin' +my lips over the tankard to foller. If 'tis wishwash, I nourishes most +onChristian feelin's, and loses my thirst." + +William Saint would reply imperturbably: + +"For a patriotic man, you surprise me, Uncle. The ale is not what it was +because good barley is needed for better purposes." + +"I knows nothing about that." + +"A man with your great knowledge of everything ought to know." + +Uncle marked the irony, and resented it. In argument, as he well knew, +Saint was too much for him. He began to study the publican and his +hollow cough. He noted his manoeuvres: the tiny bit of land ploughed up, +the buying of horses for remount agents, the sale of forage to the same +interested parties, who might be trusted to speak up, when Conscription +came, for an indispensable and indefatigable subject of the King. Uncle +passed some not disagreeable moments speculating concerning the fouling +of a well-lined nest. + +As the season of Peace and Goodwill approached, Lionel Pomfret was just +able to hobble the length of the terrace with the assistance of a pair +of crutches. His campaigning days were over. It was doubtful whether he +would be seen again in the hunting-field. But high spirits remained +inalienably his. He plunged with renewed ardour into schemes for the +more intensive culture of a thin soil, and displayed remarkable +aptitudes fortified by hard grinding at text-books. Hamlin spent many +hours with him. In Lionel he seemed to see a type, the son of an ancient +house, born with the silver spoon in his mouth, cradled in ease and +luxury, popped on a pony to ride through life as soon as he was +short-coated, sent to a great public-school, not to acquire learning, +but manners and skill at games, pitchforked later into a famous +regiment, with a handsome allowance, not to study the stern arts of war, +but to hold his own at polo and pig-sticking. + +Hamlin had deplored such upbringing. But the results confounded him, +forcing him once again to thrust carefully-considered judgments into the +melting-pot. The fact bristled in front of him that Lionel, and +thousands like him, had "made good" against all odds, vindicating an +education which consistently disdained efficiency except at games and +sport. What a gulf yawned between Prussian and English officers! The +Prussians had scrapped everything to attain efficiency. They had got it. +And what an atrocious use had been made of it! But their efficiency had +constrained young men like Lionel to an efficiency greater because the +inspiration of a fine cause lay behind it. That must be the keystone of +any arch--inspiration. Whether for good or evil, it fired men to supreme +endeavour. + +Out of Hamlin's four sons, three were now in the Army. Teddy, however, +was the only one in France. The eldest son, in Orders, was still at +Cambridge; the second, after passing through the O. T. C., had sailed +for Salonika; the third had enlisted as a Bombardier. + +Christmas, therefore, seemed likely to be happy, if not merry. + +Upon Christmas Eve, Mrs. Yellam heard, officially, that Alfred was +wounded. + +Upon Christmas Day, at Morning Service, her pew was empty. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +FANCY CONSULTS THE CARDS + + +On the following Sunday, Mrs. Yellam's pew was empty again, +conspicuously so, in the eyes of Hamlin. After luncheon he said to +Fancy: + +"Is Mrs. Yellam ill?" + +"No, sir." + +Hamlin guessed what had happened. + +"No news is good news, Fancy." + +"That's what the men say, sir. It ain't a mort of comfort to us women." + +She looked very white, with dark, heavy lines beneath her eyes. Hamlin +said a few encouraging words to which she listened attentively, nodding +her head. Hamlin felt reassured. Fancy was unhappy, but she didn't +despair. Before she left the study, she said slowly: + +"I believe as Alfred will come back." + +To the solicitude and sympathy of neighbours Mrs. Yellam exhibited a +frigid indifference. + +"I be just as well as never was," she remarked, when they enquired after +her own health. "Time enough for such as me to fall sick if my Alferd +don't come back." + +No further news had reached her. To Jane Mucklow, now the village +optimist, with George at home on leave for Christmas, Mrs. Yellam spoke +with some bitterness. Jane meant well; her sympathy was sincere, but how +could she, so high in Divine favour, understand? Nothing could shake +Susan's conviction that Alfred lay somewhere in France, mortally +wounded, whilst William Saint, the hypocrite and rascal, knelt among the +Communicants. To kneel with him, feeling as she did, would be, in her +opinion, an act of sacrilege. She reflected miserably that, since +confirmation, she had never missed a Christmas Celebration of the +Eucharist. + +On the Monday, Hamlin came to visit her as parish priest. He had +carefully considered what he should say. The faith that burned within +this strong man had been a plant of slow growth, watered by suffering, +pruned by constant self-analysis, and yet, in its essence, the faith of +a child, a faith independent of dogma, soaring high above +technicalities, resting securely upon a belief in ultimate good. He +could not disguise from himself that the Churches--all of them--had +crippled expectation. There had been no renascence, no uplifting +movement, no real enthusiasm. Political considerations and expediencies +kept the Vatican silent when a voice, thundering as from Sinai, might +have awakened millions to a realisation of the issues at stake. The +Church of England and the Nonconformists remained almost as stagnant, +content, for the most part, with the well-oiled grooves, waiting for and +watching Temporal Power, unable or unwilling to take the lead, to speak +definitely, to act decisively. With rare exceptions, the gospel of Love +had not been authoritatively used to vanquish the gospel of Hate. +Hamlin, need it be said? was no sentimentalist. He believed with Woodrow +Wilson that Prussian militarism must be wiped out. He did not believe +with Wilson that the German nation, as a whole, could be exonerated from +blame. Available evidence justified a different conclusion. Lust for +world-dominion, regardless of consequence, animated and fortified the +Central Powers because popular opinion lay behind them, unanimous save +for a negligible minority. Non-resistance to a catastrophic policy of +aggression, so potent, so meticulously organised threatened not only +Christianity but civilisation. To turn the cheek to these smiting Huns +was an unthinkable proposition to Hamlin. Nor could he find in the New +Testament any injunction of the Master which could be twisted into a +golden rule to be applied to States and nationalities. Christ dealt with +individuals, preaching and practising the power of love as between man +and man, not as between man and mankind. No text that Hamlin could find +would justify forbearance towards a nation determined to inflict +"Shrecklichkeit" upon the human race. On this point his mind was +perfectly clear. + +It was not yet, however, so clear upon issues still to be determined, +such as "After the War" problems. He could not measure the stride about +to be taken, provided militarism was crushed. He wondered constantly, +with ever-increasing apprehension, whether love would triumph in the +end, as he prayed that it might, creating a new world concerned with the +happiness of the many, a world purged of the old insensate vanities and +acrimonies. + +Mrs. Yellam received him, as usual, a shade more formally, perhaps, with +a slight tightening of her lips. Hamlin began as the personal friend of +long standing, assuring the mother that her son, in all probability, was +not severely wounded, that good news might be expected shortly, that +very soon Alfred might be with her, out of the danger zone for a season, +and able to give attention to his business. But he perceived that he was +wasting words and time. She listened respectfully, saying nothing. He +guessed what ebullitions of feeling were suppressed. He had been +tormented by her anxieties, by her doubts. The loss of his wife had been +irreparable. And when his daughter left him alone in the Vicarage, with +nothing to engross him but his work, an odd distaste of life had +assailed him, a slackness which he fought tooth and nail. Till then he +had hardly known fatigue, as it is known to all women, that dull apathy +more mental than physical which questions means and ends, exaggerating +the difficulties of the former and minimising the latter, an apathy +continually whispering the sad words: _cui bono_? He knew how hard Mrs. +Yellam had worked for her husband, her children, and in particular for +Alfred. During the last ten years all ambition, all energies had been +concentrated upon him alone. She had made unconsciously, a God of him. + +Hamlin rose up to deliver his message. Mrs. Yellam rose with him. + +"I missed you in church yesterday, and on Christmas Day." + +"One old 'ooman can't be missed, sir." + +His eyes not his voice softened. + +"You are mistaken, Mrs. Yellam. A woman of your character in this parish +is missed--more than you think, perhaps." + +"If Alferd comes back, you'll see me in my pew again." + +"You have made that rash bargain with your God?" + +She said defiantly: + +"How do I know as He is my God? The Kayser claims Him." + +Hamlin gazed keenly at her. + +"If--if I left the matter there, Mrs. Yellam, in the firm hope and +belief that God's way, inscrutable as they may appear to us when all our +energies are at a low ebb, will in His time be made manifest, may I not +ask you, as your parish priest, to consider the example to others, the +many, possibly, who are wavering in faith as you are?" + +"Fancy Broomfield bid me think of that." + +"Did she? Poor girl, she is distracted with anxiety, like you. But her +faith sustains her. Have you thought of what Fancy told you?" + +She answered him slowly, weighing her words: + +"My faith be gone, sir. It may come back wi' Alferd. And feeling so +bitter as I do about William Saint, who be stealing my boy's business, +who be letting others fight for him, and making a fortin for hisself, +can I kneel at God's Table?" + +"No." + +"What be I to do? Go to church, a whited sepulchre, and pretend that I +be a Christian 'ooman? Do 'ee ask me to do that for sake of others?" + +Hamlin remained silent. She continued, more calmly: + +"I can't bring myself to go church along, although I'd be pleased to +oblige you, sir." + +"It is no question of obliging me, Mrs. Yellam. Aren't you adding to +your heavy burden instead of sharing it with One Who laid it upon you +and Who alone can lighten it?" + +Grievously she shook her head. Hamlin took his leave. As he walked away, +he muttered to himself: "Civil War--devastating Civil War raging in that +poor old heart." + +He returned to the Vicarage with his mind dwelling upon the eternal +conflict, a conflict accentuated by the world-war, because its issues +seemed to enrich or impoverish everybody. By it, without a doubt, Susan +Yellam had been impoverished. He himself was conscious of enrichment. +But--he had not lost a son. He had five children. + +After tea Fancy cycled down, as usual, to the Yellam cottage. Solomon +received her boisterously. She made sure that good news awaited her. A +glance at Mrs. Yellam's set face put to flight her hopes. No news had +come. Mrs. Yellam greeted the girl perfunctorily, and then said sharply: + +"Have you brought 'em?" + +"Yes," said Fancy. + +She took from a small hand-bag a much-used pack of cards. Mrs. Yellam +had cleared a space upon the kitchen-table. + +"Set 'em out," she commanded. + +Fancy sat down, and began to shuffle the pack. Hamlin would have smiled +sorrowfully, had he seen Mrs. Yellam's intent face as the girl's slim +fingers dealt out the cards. So it had come to this. Rejecting the faith +of sixty years, this poor old woman asked for hope and happiness from a +fortuitous arrangement of bits of painted pasteboard! Comedy upon the +underlying tragedy. Hamlin knew, of course, that astrologers, mediums, +crystal-gazers and the like were doing a roaring trade. + +Mrs. Yellam, let it be noted, asked Fancy to bring the cards. Protest +had quivered upon Fancy's lips and stayed there. + +"Well?" + +"It is well, Mother. Alfred will come back. This makes the third time; +and, do you know, when I rode up Sol barked and wagged his tail." + +"Did he? The dog be full o' fun now." + +Fancy went down on her knees; Sol barked at her, and then began to race +round the room, playing what Fancy called "mad dog." He ended by +leaping, panting, into Mrs. Yellam's lap. + +"I believe he knows something, Fancy." + +"I'm sure he does. Would he carry on like that if--if Alfred was real +bad?" + +Thus each woman, in her artless way, consoled the other. + +Upon the Tuesday, details reached Mrs. Yellam. Alfred had been shot in +the arm; the bone was badly broken; his destination was Netley. + +Strings were pulled by Sir Geoffrey. Before the week was out Alfred +arrived at Pomfret Court. He looked much the same, not quite so +rubicund; he carried his left arm in a sling. Upon the following Sunday, +Mrs. Yellam appeared in her pew, and the fervour of her responses +excited some comment. + +She said to Fancy: + +"The cards told true. Now, the sooner you and Alferd becomes man and +wife the better." + +The doctor, who visited Pomfret Court daily, raised no objections. +Alfred's arm would keep him in Nether-Applewhite for many weeks, because +small splinters, from time to time, would have to be extracted, a +tedious process. Mrs. Yellam, when she heard this, said with twinkling +eyes: + +"Alfred, dear, why didn't you get wounded in both arms?" + +To which Alfred replied slily: + +"I kept my right arm, Mother, to slip round Fancy's waist." + +He told many stories to which Fancy and Mrs. Yellam listened entranced, +and he spoke of the enemy with respect and without rancour. Upon one +occasion, as his battalion moved into the trenches, a German had shouted +out in excellent English: + +"Be you the Wiltsheers?" + +A reply in the affirmative provoked a request for "pozzy" (jam). But a +tall sergeant, who stood up to hurl a can of preserve into the German +trench, was shot dead. This aroused tremendous wrath, as quickly allayed +when the same voice shouted again, asking if the sergeant who threw the +jam had been hurt. He was soon satisfied on that point, and, +immediately, a hubbub arose in the enemy trench, and a shot was heard. +Soon afterwards the Wiltshires learnt from the lips of the first speaker +that the man who treacherously slew the sergeant had been "done in." + +"They ain't all bad," said Alfred. + +To Mrs. Yellam's amazement, her son merely laughed when she told him of +Willum Saint's activities. + +"'Tis life, Mother. Down river, if a trout's caught behind an old stump, +another takes his pitch before night." + +Mrs. Yellam, however, noted with satisfaction that although Alfred was +incapacitated from driving his motor-'bus, the business, since his +arrival in Nether-Applewhite, had leaped ahead again with a renewed +impetus. William Saint looked sour. + +Fancy bought her modest trousseau, and, incidentally, put on several +pounds in weight. The weather happened to be bitter, but she never felt +cold when walking out with Alfred. He spoke with enthusiasm of his +officers: + +"They're fine gentlemen, Fancy. And those in the ranks are finest of +all." Then he told her a story about two men in a London regiment, both +privates and chums. One was an East-ender; the father of the other owned +a house in Park Lane. The Cockney asked his chum if he had ever visited +Whitechapel. The other remembered that he had bought a bull-terrier from +a fancier in the Mile End Road. He remembered, also, that he had been +handsomely "done" over the deal. After a pause, the Cockney said with a +grin: "I sold you that dawg, Algy. What a mug you was then!" + +But Fancy remarked one amazing change in her lover. He never spoke of +the future. His enjoyment of the present was unmistakable. This +abstention from a topic which formerly had engrossed him became more and +more significant. The girl realised what Alfred had been through, +although, unlike most of the wounded men at the Court, he recited no +"horrors." Gradually, too, she perceived a change in his face: he had +"fined down"; his eyes were more alert, with a curiously steadfast +expression. She had never talked with him about religion. That was taken +for granted, and might be summed up as a cut-and-dried sense of certain +obligations such as church-going, honourable dealings with neighbours, +loyalty to the Sovereign, and sobriety of conduct. He knew nothing about +the empty pew. + +"Mother took my going awful hard. Did she talk to you about it?" + +Fancy told him what had taken place. Alfred held his tongue till she had +finished. + +"Thought she'd lost her soul, did she? Poor dear!" + +"William Saint doing so well and cutting into your business worried her +dreadful. I think it worries her still that you takes it so easy." + +Alfred meditated upon this. When he answered her, he conveyed to her +mind an extraordinary sense of detachment, as if he, the strong man, so +enterprising as a carrier, so alert for "orders," had become suddenly an +onlooker at the game of life. Perhaps surroundings lent themselves to +this impression. They had climbed slowly to the high downs, and were +standing near a noted landmark, a small tower known as the Pepper Box. A +sharp frost had silvered the downs. The air was very still. Upon each +side of them stretched the uplands, melting into distant woods. No +animals were to be seen, not a sheep, not a bird. They seemed to stand +alone in a beautiful, deserted world. + +"I suppose," he said, "that 'tis like this. Before the war, I might have +felt different towards William Saint. And after the war, Fancy, if I'm +here, I shall try hard to get back my own again. But to-day I'm thinking +of peace. Fed-up with war I am. I want to live quiet with you and +Mother. I talked a lot of foolishness once about making big money. You +didn't cotton much to the notion. Maybe you feared it would take me away +from you?" + +"I did." + +"Well, maybe it would. Money drives some folks apart, and the want of it +brings 'em together. And, out there, plotting and planning seems silly, +because one may be--'next.'" + +She clutched his arm. He smiled at her, continuing slowly: + +"'Tain't so terrible a thought. Most of us fears pain more'n death. I +see more frightened folks in Nether-Applewhite than in the dug outs. +Queer thoughts have come to me, my maid, since we two parted." + +"Tell them to me, Alfie." + +"'Tisn't easy unless a man has the gift of words. Times, especially at +night, when an attack is expected I've lain still as a dormouse, +thinking that 'twas unreal, a dream like, and that soon I should wake up +and find myself somewhere else." + +"I often feel just that way." + +"Ah-h-h! Another queer notion is this: the best seem to go first, Fancy; +some of the young officers. Why? I figure it out that death is a big +prize to such. It does explain things a bit, don't it? They get their +reward---quick! And then I set to figuring who is best. God Almighty +knows. One feller in my platoon, before I got my stripes, was a +right-down scallywag, a gaol-bird." + +"My!" + +"'Twas his notion about death being a prize for the lucky ones. And he +told me that he loved to think how bad he'd been, because he reckoned +himself safe, sure to be one of the last to be called. Next week, he was +blown to a pulp, except his face, and on that was the queerest smile I +ever saw. I helped to carry in what was left." + +She clung closer to him. He said in his ordinary genial tones: + +"I feel myself again in Blighty, dear. But I want no unpleasantness with +William Saint or any one else. I think, night and day, of you, soon to +be my dear wife." + +Love-making rolled on smoothly, as before the war. + +But what Alfred had said remained in Fancy's mind. It explained much +that had puzzled her ever since she was able to think: her father's +ill-health and ill-fortune, her mother's premature death, and the big +casualty-lists. If life was a dream--! If reality lay beyond--! Then all +the mysteries, the inequalities, the apparent injustices, could be +explained. Such an explanation is old as human thought. It can be found +in the Vedas, in the Bible, in the writings of the Gnostics, in some of +the pagan and modern philosophies. Fancy, however, was neither concerned +nor interested in speculations veiled in words she could not understand. +Alfred's queer notions were his and hers, rushlights shining in the +darkness. But terror touched her heart, when she applied the obvious +conclusion to herself. If the best were taken, why then Alfred would be +numbered amongst them. + +As her wedding-day approached, this apprehension grew fainter and then +disappeared for a time. She resolved to live in the present, not in the +shadows of past or future. Such resolution has been a fairy godmother's +gift to young women in Fancy's class of life. They turn their eyes +gratefully to the sun whenever it shines upon them. + +She had never been so happy before. + +It was arranged that part of the honeymoon should be spent in London. +After three days' sight-seeing, the pair would return to Mrs. Yellam's +cottage. Alfred bestowed upon Fancy a black fur stole and muff, a +wrist-watch, and a pair of silver-backed hair-brushes. + +She placed these oblations upon a chair near her bed, so that her eyes +could gloat upon them the last thing at night and the first thing in the +morning. + +Sergeant George Mucklow, V. C., promised to act as best man. + +Mrs. Yellam was nearly as happy as Fancy. One fly settled in her +ointment. Conscription had become the law of the land. But the local +tribunal exempted William Saint. Uncle predicted that he would be called +up later. Jane, of course, contradicted this on general principles. With +Mrs. Yellam she believed that Satan would take good care of his own. + +The men at Pomfret Court gave a sing-song in Alfred's honour upon the +afternoon before he left them. Fancy sat beside the bridegroom-elect +amongst the quality. She liked one new song so much that she clapped her +hands and called out "Encore" before anybody else. The chorus of that +song is now known to every English-speaking soldier in the world. + + There's a long, long trail a-winding + Into the land of my dreams; + Where the nightingales are singing, + And a white moon beams. + There's a long, long night of waiting + Until my dreams all come true; + Till the day when I'll be going down + That long, long trail with you. + +Her dreams had come true; the night of waiting was past. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +HYMENEAL + + +They were married from Mr. Broomfield's house in Salisbury, and, before +returning to Nether-Applewhite, Mrs. Yellam reconsidered her opinion of +Fancy's father. He was more than half a man. Call him three-quarters at +least. The other quarter was woman. Fancy always affirmed that her sire +had played mother to her. Mrs. Yellam, after some intimate conversation +with Mr. Broomfield, believed this to be true. It seemed odd to think of +a farrier--the brawny blacksmith of the village chestnut-tree--helping +to undress dolls and smacking them when they misbehaved themselves. But +Mr. Broomfield was not brawny. He had Fancy's pale face and large, +luminous eyes. He talked about books, not storybooks, which Susan Yellam +disdained as "rubbishy truck," but solid, respectable treatises dealing +with subjects far beyond Susan's ken, such as the better housing of the +poor, communal kitchens, and a more equable wage for the working-man. +About such talk hung a flavour of Radicalism, a whiff of Socialism. Mrs. +Yellam gasped for breath when Mr. Broomfield "blasphemiously" labelled +Christ as Socialist. As a set-off, the man actually believed in fairies! +Mrs. Yellam had never met his like. But she admitted somewhat grudgingly +his charm as a companion. He attended Divine Worship, regularly, +observed the Sabbath, and spoke with enthusiasm of the cathedral. He +could laugh at his own mild jokes. Through him, Mrs. Yellam came to a +subtler understanding of her daughter-in-law. She accepted Fancy, so she +informed Mr. Broomfield, as a daughter, saying trenchantly: "No +'in-laws' for me." But she ceased to regard her as a child. Fancy's +artless ways, she decided, were on the surface. Beneath might be found, +by a diligent delver, a remarkable little woman, sensible, very +affectionate, but queer, like her father. Mr. Broomfield, apparently, +could enjoy a joke against himself. Susan, with a very limited sense of +humour, was incapable of such a feat. Speaking of motors, Mr. Broomfield +said whimsically: + +"What I've lost over 'em, Mrs. Yellam, seems to have been picked up by +Alfred. So--no complaints! Good money remains in the family." + +To Susan this cheerful acceptance of bludgeonings indicated Christian +resignation rather than humour. She told the farrier forthwith all about +William Saint--the "Proosian." Mr. Broomfield listened sympathetically. +He perceived that Mrs. Yellam was disappointed because Alfred had not +"man-handled" a rascal and hypocrite, but he said with an odd chuckle: + +"That makes things harder for this Saint, don't it?" + +"I begs your pardon, Mr. Broomfield--whatever does you mean?" + +She thought for the moment that he was as light in head as in body. +Fancy's father went on chuckling: + +"Well, from what you tell me of Alfred, and seeing what a big, strong +man he is, I expect that William Saint is worrying. Like as not he +looked for a row and wanted to get it over. Now, I reckon, being the +coward you say he is, that he lies awake wondering when he'll catch it. +Once, when I was a boy, I had to wait for a good whipping from Saturday +till Monday. I've forgotten the whipping, Mrs. Yellam, but I remember +that miserable Sunday." + +Mrs. Yellam was much impressed with this point of view, admitting +cautiously that it opened new vistas. Disturbed nights must be William +Saint's portion and punishment. Mr. Broomfield hammered home his nail: + +"'Tis the same way with sinners--and this Saint seems a crafty +sinner--outwardly they look fat and prosperous, but inwardly I reckon +they give uneasy thought to a Day o' Judgment when they won't be invited +to stand amongst the sheep. I've neighbours in this town, Mrs. Yellam, +who have done the dirty on me. I never think of them. It dirties my mind +to do so. I like to think of my friends instead." + +"You be a true Christian man." + +Later, she told Uncle, who set, perhaps, an undue value on +chest-measurements, that Mr. Broomfield was very much of a gentleman, +and repeated what had been said about Saint. Uncle saw the funny side of +it, and smacked his thigh. + +"Saint Willum--! I shall call 'un that in his own bar. 'Tis a rare jest. +Saint Willum living amongst us sheep and knowing full well that he be a +goat. He do act the goat, too, when the sheep be grazin' away from he. I +could tell 'ee stories, Susan...." + +"Don't, Habakkuk! Mr. Broomfield be right. I means to think o' my +friends, and I refuses to dirty my mind wi' listenin' to stories o' +goats." + +Her responses in church became louder and more fervent. Having gained +the shore, after many buffetings, she put from her disagreeable memories +of billows past. + +Fancy and Alfred returned from London town full of high spirits and +overbrimming with talk. Fancy looked prettier than ever hanging upon the +right arm of her sergeant. His left arm still hung in a sling. The +doctor, who examined it periodically, said solemnly: + +"I'm very sorry, Sergeant, but I can't pass you as fit for duty." + +Alfred grinned: + +"You do pull my pore arm about, sir, but don't pull my leg, please." + +The doctor laughed. + +"You may count on six weeks at home, perhaps more." + +The momentary pain of having small splinters of bone extracted was +negligible compared with six weeks of married bliss. + +Fancy's happiness defies analysis. Her naïve ecstasies astounded Mrs. +Yellam, to whom marriage had been rather a prosaic affair. She wondered +occasionally if this had been her fault. Why had dull contentment set in +so soon? As a young wife, she may have overbusied herself with domestic +duties. Fancy practised wiles and guiles with Alfred. She planned quaint +little surprises, played dexterously with an imagination which became as +lively as her own. One evening, when Fancy was upstairs, Alfred took +from his pocket some pieces of white paper, all that was left of three +packets of food. Abroad on business, Alfred had lunched under a hedge +by himself, far from home. Upon the paper were pencilings in Fancy's +handwriting. Mrs. Yellam wiped her spectacles and put them on. She +read three sentences:--"Meat sandwiches. Don't gobble 'em! Say +grace and think of Fancy." Upon the next piece of paper this was +scribbled:--"Bread and butter and cheese--and _kisses_." And then the +third:--"Rich cake stolen from Mother by a loving thief. P. S. Another +fat kiss has just started to grow. F. Y." + +Mrs. Yellam returned the papers. Alfred folded them carefully, and +placed them in the inner pocket of his tunic. + +"They go back with me to France," he said quietly. + +Mrs. Yellam sighed. + +"You be a lucky man, Alferd." + +He nodded and went upstairs. Mrs. Yellam heard a tinkle of laughter. She +sat on, thinking; a frown wrinkled her broad forehead. She had never +played the game of love as Fancy played it. It occurred to her that she +had missed something all her life without knowing what it was. It might +be wise to consult Solomon, who was gazing at her interrogatively, with +his head on one side. She did so. + +"Be they a pair o' fools, Solly?" + +Solomon never budged. This might be taken to mean an answer in the +negative. + +"There be wisdom in folly, my dog, and folly in wisdom. You knows that?" + +Solomon wagged his tail. Mrs. Yellam continued: + +"I be learning things, Solly, old as I be. I wish I'd ha' learned 'em +earlier. I might ha' been a happier 'ooman. I might ha' made my man +happier. Why do such knowledge come to us too late?" + +Solomon gazed at his mistress intently. From his expression Mrs. Yellam +divined that all her questions could be answered exhaustively by any dog +able to wag his tongue instead of his tail. + +The war went on. + +Conscription began to dislocate small trades and industries, but +Nether-Applewhite hardly felt the pinch of this. A few of the young +women disappeared, seeking higher wages in munition-works. One or two +returned to the village wearing coney-seal coats, and peacocking into +church with bold eyes challenging attention from wounded heroes. Mrs. +Yellam was much exasperated. All strikes she regarded as sinful. Satan, +and his dark legions, had been the first to rebel against Authority. +Hence--Hell! She envisaged as Hell industrial England, with its +blast-furnaces vomiting flames and smoke day and night, with its black +hordes of angry strikers disgracefully overpaid in comparison with the +pittance doled out to Sergeant Yellam. Coney-seal coats "dirtied" her +mind. Many of them, no doubt, were the obvious wages of sin. She rebuked +Alfred severely, when he proposed to buy one for Fancy. Alfred defended +himself and the wearers of the coats. + +"It's one of the signs of the times, Mother. I thought you were an +'Onward' one." + +"Lard help us! Not 'Onward and downward.'" + +"It's all the result of the war," affirmed Alfred. "Money's scarcer +amongst the quality, but poor folks are richer. Why shouldn't our girls +have a good time? They're working hard for the country." + +Mrs. Yellam retorted viciously: + +"Being a man, wi' an eye for a pretty face, you sticks up for the girls. +But what about they miners, a-smoking silling cigars and a-drinking +champagne, when our boys are dying at one-and-tuppence a day? And some +o' they strikers, so they tells me, 'd as lief live under Kayser Bill as +under King Garge." + +"Is that their fault, Mother?" + +"What do you say? Gracious! Be you telling me that such wickedness be +_my_ fault?" + +Alfred smiled pleasantly. He was not entitled to full credit for his +answer; he had been talking upon the subject with Lionel Pomfret. + +"It's the fault of the quality, Mother." + +"What a tale!" + +Alfred proceeded to explain. Although his brains worked slowly, and +despite the lack of an adequate vocabulary, he could be trusted to +repeat faithfully anything that had made a deep impression. He pointed +out to Mrs. Yellam, in language she could understand, that the weak in +mind and body were ever at the mercy of the strong. The quality, before +the war, had been strong. They had exercised their strength, speaking +generally, at the expense of the weak, fortifying their own impregnable +position. The masses, with rare exceptions, had submitted to imposed +conditions. They struggled on in the gloom, groping here and there for +illumination. Ill-educated, ill-fed, ill-clothed, they became gradually +conscious that things might be better and could hardly be worse. It made +precious little difference to them, poor Bezonians, under which king +they lived or died. The real advantages of living under King George were +patent to others, not to these unhappy prisoners in bondage to their +taskmasters. Alfred informed his mother, in conclusion, that within the +memory of living man children of tenderest years had been driven to work +in deep coal-mines, half-starved and half-naked, and kept at work, under +the lash, in rabbit-holes of passages, because such work by warping +their poor backs enabled them to get coal out of places where the +straight-backed could not go. Conditions had changed for the better +since those days, but not much, not nearly enough. + +Mrs. Yellam was visibly impressed. + +Alfred went on in his own quiet way: + +"I've talked with such fellers in the trenches, Mother. You be sure of +this: they ain't going back to slavery." + +"Slavery, Alfred, in England!" + +"There are slaves in Ocknell, to-day, Mother. Some pore devils had to be +'fetched.' They didn't know enough to get out of their hog-wallows. 'Tis +rank slavery for a man to bring up wife and six little 'uns on fifteen +bob a week." + +"Anyways," replied Mrs. Yellam, tartly, "I don't hold wi' fur coats on +the backs o' hussies whose mothers can't afford decent underlinen. And +that minds me o' the advertisements in my paper. I fair blush to look at +'un. Pictures o' garments that I hangs up to dry out o' sight in my back +yard." + +Alfred laughed loudly. + +"It always seemed to me as if you women hid the things you were ashamed +of. The pretty frillies flutter in the wind, where all can see 'em, and +envy 'em. Nether-Applewhite knew when Rose Mucklow took to nighties +trimmed with real Val." + +Mrs. Yellam sighed, admitting frankly that she couldn't keep in step +with the times. Alfred, conscious, possibly, that some of his mother's +shafts were aimed at him, said tentatively: + +"Are you miffed because I gave Fancy a fur muff and stole?" + +"I don't know as I bain't. A wise man, my son, puts money in bank, not +on back." + +"I see you putting your savings into stockings. Blame the war, Mother, +not me. I aimed to make Fancy happy, and to see her smile, whilst I'm +here to see it. We're both hay-making in these March winds." + +Mrs. Yellam surrendered. + +What Alfred said remained in her ample mind, to be considered carefully +at leisure. She abhorred extravagance. But, in March, she might have +bought a warm muff for herself, had she been told by her doctor that she +would die before June. Insensibly she adopted part of Alfred's new +philosophy. She set before bride and groom the best plain food +procurable; she piled logs on the open hearth; she put the two +coffin-stools into a cupboard. + +And she read her Bible diligently, believing devoutly that she was +basking in heavenly sunshine. + +The six weeks raced by, but Alfred's arm mended less rapidly. He was +given three weeks' more leave. His business had picked up wonderfully +ever since he was able to bestow upon it personal attention. Perhaps +William Saint withdrew tentacles, waiting for better opportunities later +on. Alfred didn't drive his 'bus, but he whipped up old customers, +chaffing them pleasantly, avoiding reproaches. All the women liked his +manners, which were easy without being too free. Fancy felt jealous at +times, and couldn't hide it: a tribute to love which Alfred accepted in +the right spirit. + +"I couldn't be unfaithful to you, if I tried," he whispered to her. "I +love you so dearly that my heart warms to all females. I could kiss the +ugliest just because you're my sweet wife." + +"Oh, Alfie, I couldn't bear that." + +He never left home without finding her on his return hovering about the +wicket-gate, waving her hand as he appeared round the bend of the road, +and hurrying to meet him with outstretched arms. Those spoke eloquently +of the suffering which approaching separation must impose. Each +refrained from mention of France. + +Alfred hoped that she would have something to console her, something +intimately his and hers, when he went back to the front. From the first, +husband and wife had discussed the possibility of children. + +"Are you afraid?" he asked, thinking of her mother. + +"Yes." + +"Ah-h-h. I'm not surprised to hear that." + +"I want to whisper something, Alfie." + +He inclined his head. She kissed his ear, murmuring: + +"I _am_ afraid--afraid it mayn't come. That's the only fear I have." + +He was profoundly moved, sensible that his feelings were the more tender +because, before the war, he would have accepted paternity and all it +implied as an ordinary happening. Till he had suffered himself--his +wound had caused him intense pain--he had never thought of what women +endure every time a child is born into the world. + +"What a brave dear you are!" + +She whispered again: + +"Would you like a He or a She?" + +Alfred insisted that first choice lay with her. + +"I want a boy." + +"I believe I should love a lil' maid best." + +"Better than you love me, maybe?" + +Having answered this in his own way, Alfred said abruptly: + +"If 'tis a maid, you must call her Lizzie. 'Twill please Mother. I can +see the child traipsin' after her." + +Fancy said doubtfully: + +"Lizzie ain't a pretty name, Alfie. I thought of Alfreda--Freda for +short." + +"Been thinking of that already, have you? Let it be Lizzie, Fancy. +Promise me, dear!" + +She promised, and then laughed gaily: + +"Ain't we counting our chicks before they're hatched?" + +"We might be worse employed." + +"And if one comes, Alfie, I know 'twill be a big baby boy." + +"You have it your own way. I allow it concerns you more'n me." + +April was nearly over before Alfred went back. He might have been +transferred to his dépôt, following the example of the hero. Sir +Geoffrey was quite willing to pull more strings, and hinted as much to +Sergeant Yellam. Alfred refused the kind offer, pledging the Squire to +secrecy. Something he couldn't define, some dominating, irresistible +impulse drew him to his own men. He admitted to the Squire that he was +sorely tempted. + +"I know my job, Sir Geoffrey. And I know how bad we are wanted." + +Upon the eve of departure Fancy told him that she hoped, she believed, +she was almost sure that the wish of both their hearts would be granted. +If he got Yuletide leave, he might be in time for a christening. + +Mother and wife travelled to Southampton to speed the Sergeant on his +way. No tears were shed till his broad back was turned on them at the +dock-gates. They were spared that heart-twisting spectacle, the slow +warping from the wharf of a great transport, the strains of "The Girl he +left behind Him," the long line of faces packed close above the +bulwarks, the interminable wait till the ship became a blur upon the +waters. + +In silence they returned by train to Salisbury, sitting side by side, +gripping each other's hands. A drizzle of rain obscured the landscape. +Fancy told herself that sunshine would have been hard to bear. +Capricious Nature seemed to be mourning with her, dropping soft tears +upon a past four months so enchanting that they seemed, to-day, unreal, +a mirage, too beautiful to be seen again. But Spring laughs through her +showers. Before Nether-Applewhite was reached, the sun shone below the +clouds, setting in a blaze of crimson splendour. Solomon greeted the +women joyously; in the water meadows the Squire's black-and-white +Frisian-Holsteins were grazing quietly; now and again Fancy heard the +bleat of a calf. The plaintive cry seemed to turn her from a girl into a +woman. She realised that never again could she be the girl of yesterday. +Alfred would kiss a matron when he returned. + +After supper, when things were washed up, and Mrs. Yellam had taken up +her sewing, Fancy disappeared for a moment, returning with her pack of +cards. Mrs. Yellam made no comment at first, but she fidgeted in her +armchair. As Fancy shuffled the pack, she said quietly: + +"Don't, dear!" + +"I must, Mother. They told true before." + +"Very well." + +Resolutely she turned her eyes to her needle, not daring to look at +Fancy's face. She found herself wondering whether Fancy would be tempted +to cheat, to shuffle back some card of ill-omen. After an eternity of +suspense, she heard Fancy's clear voice: + +"It's quite all right. He's coming back." + +Mrs. Yellam laid down her sewing, and rose majestically. In a small +cupboard, a special sanctuary to the right of the hearth, she kept some +home-made cordials: mead, currant wine, and ginger-brandy. Upon very +special occasions she would produce such strong waters, and drink one +small glass, not more. Her feelings might be gauged by the cordial +selected. Mead was well enough after village christenings and +churchings; the currant wine was stronger tipple, and very heartening +after a wedding. The ginger-brandy warmed bodies chilled by winter +funerals. + +She took down the currant wine, and fetched two glasses. Having filled +them to the brim, she gave one to Fancy and held up the other. + +"Alferd." + +They clinked glasses and drank, very solemnly. Mrs. Yellam replaced the +bottle of wine and washed the glasses. Returning to her chair, she +perceived that Fancy was re-shuffling the cards. + +"Leave well alone, child." + +"I want to try something else." + +"What, you queer creature?" + +"I'm wondering whether IT will be a He or a She?" + +"What notions you has, to be sure!" + +Fancy laughed and dealt on. Mrs. Yellam sat down, looking into the +smouldering embers, seeing, possibly, the shadowy forms of the children +she had lost. The wooden cradle which had rocked them to sleep stood in +its place to the left of the fireplace--full of logs. It would serve for +Fancy's child, for her own grandchild. And upstairs, in an old chest of +drawers, lay some little things, tiny shifts and frocks with lavender +between them. Once, in a moment of dull despair, she had resolved to +burn them. A kindlier thought had urged her to give them, away. She had +put that thought from her frowningly. How deeply the gain of others +magnifies and distorts our own loss! Happy instinct must have +constrained her to keep these garments made by her own hands, although +at the time she never recked that they might be worn, so long +afterwards, by flesh of her flesh and bone of her bone. + +"Mother...." + +"Ah-h-h! You've settled the affair, have 'ee?" + +"Yes. 'Tis a boy--another Alfred. Ain't you glad?" + +"I be ready to welcome any babe, boy or girl, as belongs to Alferd--and +you." + +Solomon, dreaming blissfully of rats, woke up and wagged his tail. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +LEANNESS OF SOUL + + +Life meandered on in the village. Mrs. Yellam spent her mornings at +Pomfret Court; Fancy took her place in the afternoon; they were together +during the light-lengthening evenings. By this happy arrangement, two +women, not of the same temperament, never saw too much of each other. +They met at supper, glad to exchange the mild gossip of the day. And, +always, after uneasy matutinal hours, Fancy felt a renewed zest in life, +an appetite for work amongst the "boys," and a delightful consciousness +that physical strength--heretofore lacking--was slowly coming to fortify +a frail body against the still far-off ordeal. She learnt much from Mrs. +Yellam, and said so with flattering reiteration. Mrs. Yellam may have +learnt more from her, but she did not say so. That, perhaps, constituted +the essential difference between them. Fancy's thoughts and ideas +bubbled out of her mind, effervescent, like water from a chalybeate +spring. Mrs. Yellam had suppressed her intimate thoughts since +childhood. What she said, indeed, masked her real feelings, conveying to +others an impression of shrewdness, cocksureness and unruffled calm. It +would be grossly unfair to speak of this as a pose. Since girlhood, she +had been shrewd, sure of herself, and calm. Now, when she was past +sixty, these comfortable and admirable attributes deserted her. She +judged herself quite as severely as she judged her neighbours. She knew +that, inwardly, she was questioning her wisdom, her cherished +convictions, and her unruffled deportment. + +"I be a whited sepulchre," she told Solomon. + +Nevertheless, during these Spring days, when May was dancing in the +woods and across the fields, rest and refreshment fell upon Mrs. +Yellam's perplexed mind. By sheer force of will, for her own sake and +for Fancy's sake, she called "Pax" to introspection, and, like a +schoolboy, almost believed that the kindliest dew from heaven had fallen +upon her. During this month, too, Alfred happened to be out of the +danger zone, busy with new drafts who had not yet been under fire. And +everybody in Nether-Applewhite predicted that the war must end soon +because sheer exhaustion, military and economic, affected so +tremendously the belligerents. Upon this _cheval de bataille_ Sir +Geoffrey Pomfret rode over all obstacles. Old Captain Davenant bestrode +just such another charger. Uncle, you may be sure, ran with them, +throwing his tongue, speaking to a breast-high scent. + +"We be nigh the end on't," he told his cronies. "They Proosians be more +fed up wi' mud and blood than us. I talks of what I knows. The slaughter +o' they Huns be so fearsome that Kayser Bill be a-thinkin' night and day +o' polligammy." + +"Polly--who? I never heard tell o' she, Uncle." + +To this interruption Uncle replied with something of his sister's +majesty. + +"Ah-h-h! This war'd be over now, if beastly ignerunce ran mute. +Polligammy be practised, as I told old Captain, by cannibals and such. +For why? Because they eats up the young men, and then there bain't +husbands enough to go round. Polligammy allows a man to marry so many +wives as he's a mind to." + +"Lard preserve our dear lives!" + +"Yes, my sonnies, that's how life be preserved amongst savage tribes. +They Huns be cannibals and worse. When I told Squire as they fellers +used corps to make them tasty Bolony sausages, he couldn't believe me; +but 'tis a fact." + +"How do you know?" asked William Saint. + +"Never you mind how I knows, Saint Willum. I don't never help myself to +what isn't mine. I nourishes meself wi' sober truth, not lies. Where be +I? Ah, yes. Well, neighbours, they be come to that pretty pass, +polligammy. I allows that one wife be enough for me." + +"More than enough, 'tis said, Uncle." + +"You be seldom right, my man, but times you hit the mark. Now, I figures +it out this way. They Huns be savages, but not fools. One wife be more'n +enough for any man, and if so be as Kayser Bill makes polligammy the law +in German land, why, I says they won't stick it. 'Tis the beginning o' +the end." + +An old gaffer was not sure about this. Women in Germany, so he'd been +told, worked with dogs in carts. A farmer with fifty wives might get a +lot of work out of them. The gaffer spoke with some authority, having +buried three wives in his time. All present knew that they had worked +hard for their husband. Uncle, however, after more strong talk and weak +ale, convinced his audience that peace would be declared before October. +Wiser folk held the same opinion. + +The villagers, at last, were beginning to feel the pinch of war. Wages +had risen, greatly to their satisfaction, but prices outstripped them. +The local store closed shutters, because the proprietor was called up. +The baker was baking bread somewhere in the North Sea. On Sundays Mrs. +Yellam and other housewives ate cold victuals for dinner, unless they +stayed away from Morning Service to make hot beef-and-kidney puddings. +Shopping had to be done in Salisbury. This meant increased business for +the carrier. But, unhappily, Alfred's _locum tenens_ lacked the +executive ability to cope successfully with a glut of orders. + +In August, William Saint began a daily service to the county town. Peace +fled, silently, from Mrs. Yellam's pillow. + +In September, worse followed. Fortune, cruel jade, lashed out at Mrs. +Yellam, striking her hard below the belt. Alfred's resplendent 'bus was +knocked into a deep ditch by a huge Government trolley, which rolled +serenely on--undamaged. + +_Et tu, Brute----!_ + +Try to picture Mrs. Yellam's feelings. The 'bus was out of action. That +in itself might be deemed a serious mishap, to use a word often in +Nether-Applewhite mouths, a word applicable to murders, chicken-pox, +frozen water-pipes and other domestic disasters. External and internal +injuries to the car might be set right in six weeks or so. Skilled +mechanics in Salisbury were overworked. No definite promise could be +extracted from the firm that sold the 'bus to Alfred. But the driver, +the middle-aged man whom, with all his faults, Mrs. Yellam had come to +regard as a tower of sobriety and honesty, sustained concussion of the +brain. He soon recovered from this but, alas! his nerve was gone. +Obstinately, deaf to Fancy's coaxing and to Mrs. Yellam's trenchant +protestations, he tendered notice. How could he be replaced? By the time +that the 'bus was in order again--insurance covered all damage--William +Saint would have captured Alfred's faithful customers; the faithless +were his already. + +But what rankled so bitterly in Mrs. Yellam's heart, and would have +provoked the Cæsarean apostrophe had she indulged in quotations from the +Swan of Avon, was the tormenting reflection that the Army had dealt her +this parlous blow, the Army she loved, because Alfred was part of it. +Rampaging on, like a ruthless Juggernaut, the trolley had crashed into +the 'bus, wiping it out, killing it and burying it in a ditch. + +Sympathy flowed into the Yellam cottage from all points of the compass, +a generous flood upon which Fancy floated buoyantly. Poor Mrs. Yellam +sank beneath it, helplessly aware of its significance. Everybody, of +course, knew that Alfred's business was bound up in the 'bus, ditched +indefinitely, perhaps forever. The cynical thought obtruded itself, +grinning derisively; help was proffered so eagerly, because it could not +be accepted. + +Satan had triumphed again. + +Uncle was nearly as much upset as the 'bus. The gallant fellow offered +his services to his sister. + +"Look 'ee here, Susan. I be a man o' parts. 'Tis no trick for me to larn +motor-drivin'. To use a figure o' speech, I be a born shover, clever, as +you be, wi' my brain and my fingers. Such a thatcher as Habakkuk Mucklow +be fit for anything. I feel it in me, dear, to command armies. Say the +word, and I'll declare war wi' Saint Willum; I'll downscramble 'un in +two jiffs." + +Mrs. Yellam thanked him, but the word was not said. + +She appeared to accept misfortune with grim resignation. Not even to +Fancy dared she unveil her heart. Alone with Solomon, she permitted a +few words to escape. + +"My faith, Solly, be on the wing again. Why should God Almighty raise +His hand against an old 'ooman? He might ha' seen fit to cripple me wi' +rheumatics. I could ha' borne that wi'out whimpering. But why do He +exalt Willum Saint? That's what tears me, my dog." + +Solomon spared no effort of mind or body in the attempt to assure his +mistress that these high matters were apprehended by all dumb animals. +Conscious of failure, he became very dejected. + +A letter from Alfred heartened her a little. + + "Dear Mother:" (he wrote) "I hope this finds you in the + pink, as it leaves me. Don't worry about the old 'bus! _I + don't, not a bit._ I have a notion that if you worry much + 'twill be bad for Fancy and for Somebody Else, you know who + I mean. As for William Saint, I say this--take a squint at + his face! I wouldn't have his liver for the best carrying + business in the world. If you've set your dear heart on my + punching a rascal's head, I'll do it, so soon as I get back, + and make a job of it, too. Hard blows hurt them as get them; + hard thoughts hurt them as think them. I puzzled that out in + the trenches, where we be making very merry again. You'll + worry too about the loss of money. I say to that--_Napoo_! + That's French. I parleyvoo with the best of them, but when + it comes to buying stuff, they do me in a fair treat...." + +Mrs. Yellam read and re-read the letter. Fancy was at the Court when it +came. Then she said to Solomon: + +"Wherever does that boy o' mine get his Christian principles? Not from +me, Solly, not from me. Wag tail, little man, and I'll tell 'ee for why. +Willum Saint, next Christmas, maybe, 'll take such a head to Salisbury +as never was." + +Sol barked. + +Alfred's sentence about merry-making in the trenches provoked much +thought. Mrs. Yellam had talked freely with scores of wounded Tommies. +They came, they conquered all reserves, they went. Some actually +complained that life in Nether-Applewhite seemed "dull" after the "fun" +in the dug-outs. At first, she suspected "leg-pulling," but she limped +to the slow conclusion that the high spirits of these gallant fellows +came _from_ the trenches, and were not, as she had supposed at first, a +natural result of finding themselves snug and safe after shell-fire. +Possessing the qualities which distinguish a "tufting" hound--a good +nose for a scent, staying powers, and tenacity in sticking to her +quarry, Mrs. Yellam decided, ultimately, that millions of young men and +women were living, like gnats, for the passing hour, buzzing gaily here +and there, utterly regardless of past and future. + +Could she bring herself to so happy a condition of mind? + +"Take no thought for the morrow." + +That injunction couldn't be ignored. Nevertheless, she had ignored it +all her life. Hence, from a material point of view, her sound economic +condition. She was independent of the 'bus. + +Such thoughts were obsessing, also, the parson of the parish. + +Hamlin was quite as handicapped as Mrs. Yellam by principles adopted +long ago which he deemed, before the war, to be bomb-proof. He had +pinned his faith to the masses, dismissing the classes as effete and +lapped in luxury and indifference. All workers appealed to him +irresistibly; men and women of leisure rather exasperated him. He held +with Matthew Arnold that conduct was three-fourths of life, whereas +culture might or might not claim the odd quarter. + +The masses had disappointed him. The classes seemed to have justified +their claim to superiority not in mere education but in a capacity and +willingness to scrap self-interest which astounded him. He had expected, +too, a tremendous upward movement from German Socialists. Indeed, he had +regarded the Socialists of Europe as a band of brothers prepared to +stand shoulder to shoulder against autocracy. + +And they had not done so. + +He could find for the masses, not at the front, all the excuses which +fell so glibly from the lips of Democracy's champions. Strikers +complained of lack of good faith on the part of the Government, of local +injustices, of this and that, but the fact remained that self-interest +swayed them, as it had swayed the privileged classes before the war. The +tables seemed to be turned. Aristocracy, governed possibly by its fine +motto, "_Noblesse oblige_," hurled self-interest to the void; Democracy +picked it up and hugged it. Indisputable evidence exhibited Labour as +rejoicing in an increased wage, and spending pounds a week upon +luxuries, many actually praying that the war might continue, because +they believed that the end of it would mean a return to dull, grinding +pre-war conditions. + +And Hamlin admitted sorrowfully to himself that if the war did end +suddenly, leaving Labour triumphant, insatiate for more and more wealth, +and in a position to dictate terms to Capital, that the country would be +plunged into abysmal depths, depths in which new tyrants would impose a +new slavery without any of the restrictions which culture and tradition +had prescribed upon the former autocrats and plutocrats. + +He envisaged England at the mercy of the mob! + +With pleasure and relief he turned from the Industrials to the Soldiers. +What a fine spirit animated them! With Mrs. Yellam, he had arrived, by a +different road, at the same conclusion. + +Our men of all ranks were facing unspeakable horrors with a laugh. + +How had it come to pass? + +According to Hamlin's teaching, a supreme Sacrifice, a Divine Atonement, +had regenerated the pagan world. Did sacrifice make not only for +regeneration but for joyousness? Lionel Pomfret, still on his crutches, +was joyous. The Squire, after the sale of many heirlooms, was joyous. A +finer humanity informed him, radiating from him. + +The Parson pondered these things in his heart. He might have found +another object-lesson in William Saint. He was unmistakably prospering, +making money hand over fist. But he was not joyous. + +Very reluctantly, Hamlin decided that the time for peace might be far +distant, if the designs of Omnipotence were rightly apprehended by him. +Armageddon would continue till pain had purged the whole world, till +materialism in its hydraheaded forms was slain by spirituality, by a +faith, simple as that preached by the Nazarene, which counted worldly +gain as naught if such gain involved the loss of the soul. + +Faithful to his promise to Alfred, Hamlin kept a watchful eye on Mrs. +Yellam. Her empty pew had affected him poignantly. He thought of empty +pews throughout Europe. They stood mute witnesses against teachers and +preachers, against creeds that crumbled when the cannon thundered. He +respected this old woman for braving gossip by staying at home. She had +moral courage, nearly as rare and even more precious than common-sense. +But when she came back to her pew, when he heard her loud responses, he +realised sadly that her son, not her God, had found this wandering sheep +and led it back to the fold. + +At any moment the pew might be empty again. + +Next Sunday, he took for his text the verse out of the +hundredth-and-sixth Psalm: + +"_And He gave them their desire; but withal He sent leanness into their +soul._" + +No coincidence was involved in this choice of a text. Fancy Broomfield, +before she married, had asked her master to explain "leanness of soul." +He had said a few simple words. Afterwards, he jotted down some notes +and put them away. + +He re-read these notes, thinking of William Saint, whose activities had +not escaped his notice. But he wrote the sermon with a wider +application. And although he had to bear in mind the limited +intelligence of his congregation, what he set down constituted an +indictment of a material, world-wide prosperity. + +Hamlin began by reminding his parishioners of what he had said in his +sermon on patriotism: the soul in its essence was always right. + +"What there is of it," he added impressively. "Some souls are very +lean." + +Jane Mucklow maintained afterwards that the Parson looked hard at Uncle. +Uncle was equally positive that austere eyes dwelt on Jane. Mrs. Yellam +sat bolt upright in her pew with Fancy beside her. William Saint assumed +an air of detachment. He attended church once a week to curry favour +with his Squire and landlord. He held Hamlin in some disdain, because so +able a man had pushed himself no farther along preferment's highway than +Nether-Applewhite. A man who had played cricket for the Gentlemen of +England ought surely to be a dean at least, if he had any gumption in +him. + +Hamlin repeated the text. + +"I want you to notice," he said, in his quiet voice, "that the word +'soul' is used in the singular. God sent leanness into the soul of His +people. Nations, therefore, like individuals, possess souls. + +"Has leanness entered into our national soul? + +"We have prospered exceedingly. We are even richer than our expert +accountants deemed us to be. Some of you may have glanced casually at +the stupendous figures which set forth the wealth and resources of the +British Empire. We forget to consider how this vast wealth is piled up. +It is not my purpose to consider that with you, to-day. But such +consideration is the duty of those who are able to deal intelligently +with these astounding figures. + +"We have been, in short, given our desire. + +"In the text you will note that God gave His people their desire; and +then He sent leanness into their souls. + +"What was their desire? The Psalmist informs us in the context. God's +Chosen People had wandered from Him. They had corrupted themselves, as +we read in Exodus. I will cite one instance known to the youngest child +here: they had set up and worshipped the calf of Horeb, the golden calf, +which has stood forth ever since as the symbol of Mammon, the symbol of +material prosperity. They wanted this golden calf, and God gave it to +them. And then He sent leanness into their soul. + +"To many of us this text presents difficulties. Is it wrong for a nation +to desire worldly prosperity? Is it wrong for an individual, for any one +of us, to desire to better one's condition in life, to rise, as it is +called, in the world? Most certainly not. Such a desire is firmly rooted +in every healthy nation, in every healthy man and woman. It is basic, +the mainspring of human endeavour and human advancement, rooted in +nations and individuals by God. + +"The desire, then, in its simplest form, must be right. Its +accomplishment may be utterly wrong. + +"Desires change their character during accomplishment. Thrift, for +instance, may degenerate into parsimony; temperance, if uncontrolled, +leads to intemperance; the noblest ambitions may become insensate; +proper care of the body, which I have commended to you, may end in +vanity; love, alas! is often deformed into lust. All that is obvious. +Nobody here questions it. + +"Desires, then, face two ways. They may lead us to God or away from Him; +they may enrich or impoverish the soul. + +"But why, you may ask, does God, as in the text, deliberately gratify +soul-impoverishing desires in a nation, with the knowledge and therefore +with the intention of making the soul of that nation lean? + +"The answer is plain. Nations, like individuals, exercise the privilege +of free-will. The choice between good and evil is theirs, as it is mine, +and yours. + +"How can we tell whether the soul of a nation be lean? + +"There is an infallible test, the same test which each of us must apply +to ourselves. Never forget that what we think, we are. What we go on +thinking, we become. By a nation's thoughts, by your own thoughts, the +soul's stature may be measured. If the thoughts of a nation, if your own +thoughts, dwell habitually upon self-advancement and self-indulgence, be +sure that the soul is dwindling instead of expanding. If our thoughts, +collectively or individually, are hard, jealous thoughts concerning +other nations, the soul is growing lean. But when we think of others +with love animating our thoughts, and if that love, in ever-widening +circles, includes not only our friends but all, all who claim from us +pity and consideration, then it is very well with the soul. It is +expanding, and it is capable of an expansion so immense that, like Time +and Space, no finite mind can measure it. Hate impoverishes souls and +bodies. A man under the influence of violent passion is physically the +worse. Any doctor will tell you that. A nation convulsed by hate is +physically weaker. Violence is not strength. It may appear to be so for +a brief time. In a stand-up fight, between two men, the man who loses +his temper is likely to lose the victory. At this moment, a gospel of +hate is convulsing our enemies. We may, and must, hate what they have +done, the atrocious crimes perpetrated by and for Authority, but let us +beware of hating, as they hate, because such rancour eats away the soul. +Let us remember Who said: 'God forgive them, for they know not what they +do!' + +"Let us consider more attentively the desires of a nation and their +direction--upward or downward. I repeat emphatically that the desires of +a nation are the desires of the individual immeasurably multiplied. + +"And, first, I should like to suggest to you that desires concerned with +material ends, such as money, or any other worldly ambition, are +generally gratified, provided we work for them hard enough. + +"When are desires soul-impoverishing? How can we tell when a nation or +an individual, after rising steadily upward, reaches a point from which +they and he, as steadily, descend? + +"The answer may be found in the Book of Micah: 'He hath shewed thee, O +man, what is good, and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do +justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?' + +"In itself a nation can achieve much, so can an individual; but if +self-advancement, in any form, whether modest or far-reaching, relies +upon itself and takes to itself the credit and glory, then we are not +walking humbly with God, but speeding from Him along a road that may +lead to success, as the world interprets success, but which leads, also, +to disappointment, disillusionment, and often at the last--despair. + +"The great conquerors of history have not been happy men. + +"Everything that is done vaingloriously turns to ashes. From that sad +thought we may take this much consolation. Ashes, as you farmers know, +are great fertilisers. I know of no greater proof of God's wisdom and +mercy than this: the ashes of our failures do, so I believe, cause good +to bloom out of evil. + +"If it be true that leanness has been sent into the soul of this nation, +if we have not walked humbly with God, what can be done? The answer is +to be found not only in the Bible, but in every chapter of the world's +history. We must make atonement by sacrifice." + +He paused, and many remembered that pause afterwards. The preacher stood +erect, but his eyes were not on the congregation. They looked out +dreamily into a world in anguish. Tears trickled down Fancy's cheeks. +With her quick sensibilities, she divined that the Parson's thoughts had +flown to France, where his Benjamin was fighting, not in hate, none who +knew the boy could believe that, but inspired by the faith that a +selfless Cause would triumph. Instantly, her own thoughts flew to +Alfred. If--if sacrifice were demanded of her--? She looked up. Some +intuition told her that Hamlin was ready for any sacrifice. His face +appeared calm. But she became aware of tension, as if a far-seeing man +were braced against impending calamity. She recalled stories current in +the village after the _Lusitania_ was torpedoed: stories of men who had +confronted death without a tremor. Surely, at such a moment God stood +with them. + +Would He stand with her, if Alfred did not come back? + +She stole a glance at Mrs. Yellam. + +Her face remained impassive. But again intuition told Fancy that this +outward calmness masked bitter trouble and perplexity. Timidly she +slipped her hand into the hand of the old woman, pressing it gently. The +pressure was not returned, because, perhaps, it may not have been felt. +Mrs. Yellam, Fancy perceived, was staring at a mural tablet to the right +of the pulpit, new and shining brass upon which were inscribed the names +of two nephews of Captain Davenant. He had read the Lessons, as usual, +but in a less rasping voice, so she had thought. She heard Hamlin's +quiet tones: + +"Let us prepare ourselves for greater sacrifices." + +The rest of the sermon was devoted to particular rather than general +ends. The Parson appealed, as was his wont, to the children, and the +younger members of the congregation, the twigs waiting to be inclined. +And to these his appeal was persuasive and suggestive, never didactic or +minatory. He shone best when conducting a children's service, when he +walked amongst them using the simplest words. + +Perhaps he knew that the middle-aged and old could be touched to finer +issues indirectly. In every heart, however worn and tired, there lingers +a subtle fragrance of youth which thought of youth releases. The sad +fact that many of the elder people were mourning may have tempered what +speech he addressed to them, and many of them were aware of this, +shifting uneasily in their pews as they remembered similar words spoken +in the same place by the same man twenty years back. + +Once more, Mrs. Yellam walked home in silence. Fancy, engrossed by her +own thoughts, did not speak till they entered the cottage. Then she +said, hesitatingly: + +"'Tis strange. We talked of lean souls the first day Alfie brought me to +see you." + +"Ay--so we did." + +"And afterwards I asked Mr. Hamlin to tell me what 'lean souls' meant." + +"Did 'ee? He never looked once at me this marning." + +"Why should he?" + +Mrs. Yellam answered heavily: + +"I dunno. But I'd a notion that he had me in mind. 'Twas a notable +sermon, but----" + +"Yes?" + +"He ain't been tried as I have." + +She went upstairs slowly to take off her bonnet and shawl. + +Upon the following Wednesday, the sermon assumed a fresh importance and +significance. + +Edward Hamlin was killed in action. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +SAINT WILLUM + + +It was a blow over the heart to Nether-Applewhite. Master Teddy, as +everybody called him, had grown to man's estate amongst the villagers, +but he was remembered as a boy, full of pranks, a bit of a scapegrace, +with a smile that Uncle affirmed to be "so good as sixpence." Uncle +assumed a band of crêpe, and said to Susan Yellam: + +"Master Teddy be taken, and us useless old sticks be left. I taught 'un +to set night lines. He'd a tang o' the poacher, he had, but allers ready +to give away what trout he catched out o' old Captain's water. Bold as +brass, too, wi' rich or poor. And a good fighter. He fit 'No Account +Harry' back o' village pound, and licked 'un, too, a boy bigger'n +older'n he. A pleasant word for all, and fair bustin' wi' fun and +kindness. I tell 'ee this, I be so sorrowful as if I'd lost a son, but +there's rejoicing where he be gone. I can see Saint Peter a-openin' wide +the gate to let 'un in." + +Greater orators have declaimed less sincere funeral orations. + +Mrs. Yellam said little. Her troubled face made Fancy unhappy. But when +she spoke of Edward Hamlin, Mrs. Yellam cut her short: + +"He be gone. It don't bear speaking of. Why should such as he be +sacrificed to atone for our sins?" + +"If God gave His Only Son----!" + +"Ah-h-h! That be it. _If...._" + +"Mother!" + +"You be shocked, and no wonder. But unless I speaks what I feels to 'ee, +I must hold my tongue. And more decent, too. I be mazed beyond words. I +be losing my grip o' this world and the next." + +Fancy met Hamlin two days afterwards as she was leaving Pomfret Court. +She quickened her step, but he stopped still. She said simply: + +"I be so grieved about Mr. Edward. He was so full of life." + +Hamlin took her hand. + +"Thank you. The sympathy of all of you is much to me, more than you +think." He paused adding slowly: "He may be fuller of life, Fancy, where +he is now." + +She went her way, strangely comforted. Her time was approaching. Soon +she must remain at home, awaiting her ordeal. She confronted that with +the courage which is so often the attribute of physically frail women. +The month before the wonderful event would be happily occupied in making +the _layette_ or such of it as Mrs. Yellam couldn't provide; and Fancy +had in mind the lining and trimming of a baby-basket fit for a tiny +prince. She intended to embroider a broad blue riband with this legend: +"To my little son." She made absolutely certain that the child would be +a son. Already she had envisaged his life from the cradle to the grave. +She wouldn't allow him to play too rough games, but he must be a _Man_; +she shrank from what he would have to go through before he attained his +sire's stature; she rehearsed a prayer suitable for babbling lips; she +arrayed him in knickerbockers and despatched him to school, with many +injunctions not to play truant, or pull the hair of small girls, or be +pert to his teacher. Of course, he would be just such a son to her as +Alfred was to his mother. She went so far in mental vagabondage as to +choose a wife for him, a very practical young woman with a reassuring +physique, quite unlike herself. Being his father's son, every inch of +him, it was certain that he would have "affairs" with other young women +before he chose the "One and Only." Fancy meant to deal faithfully with +such flirtations. One of them would nearly capture the youth. He would +be saved from a too audacious baggage by his mother! She hoped that he +would not be too good, but full of fun, like Mr. Edward. He would be a +carrier, because all wars would be over and done with after this war. + +These were her day-dreams. + +At night, she was not so happy. At night she thought much of Mrs. +Yellam. That troubled face formed itself in the dark, mutely entreating +comfort and counsel which Fancy could not evoke out of her eagerness to +help a sorely-stricken creature. + +Why did Mrs. Yellam borrow trouble? + +Why did she believe that God had forsaken her? What a terrible notion +this of Satan supreme and triumphant in Nether-Applewhite! But she had +faith in God's mercy. He would lift this black cloud from a poor old +woman's heart. + +About two weeks after Edward Hamlin's death, unexpected balm, very +precious spikenard, was poured upon Mrs. Yellam's lacerated feelings. +William Saint had got his desire and leanness of soul withal. Alfred's +good business was his. When he drove past the Yellam cottage, Mrs. +Yellam turned her face from the window, if she happened to be there. She +told Uncle that she discerned a mocking smile, a contemptuous upper lip, +upon that hard, yellow face. Uncle nodded, saying nothing. But leaving +his sister's house, he laid a couple of fingers upon his biceps as he +contracted the muscles of it. He smiled genially. His biceps still +swelled hard and big as a cricket ball. And only the day before he had +been out running with the hounds. William Saint did not run. He walked +to his objectives, the sort of tortoise, Uncle reflected, who wins +prizes from the more nimble hare. + +He was so pleasant with Jane that she suspected a frontal attack upon +her money-box. Uncle, however, impetrated no loan. Later in the +afternoon, when she went to the fowl-house to collect eggs, she +surprised her lord and master, with his coat off, vigorously punching a +sack of bran in the shed that adjoined the chicken-run. + +"Whatever be you doing?" she asked. + +Uncle grinned. + +"I be working off some ale, Jane. So thin stuff it be that I wants to +get rid of it quick." + +"I thought you was gone mad." + +"Ah-h-h! Others may think that afore we be much older." + +To her further amazement, Uncle remained at home that evening instead of +going to the _Sir John Barleycorn_. She wondered if he were sickening +for an illness. Possibly, the Parson's sermon on lean souls had affected +him. Presently Uncle's earnest words lent colour to this possibility. He +observed didactically: + +"Hate be bad for the body. Parson got that notion from me. A man as +hates his feller-men, and lies awake nights plottin' and plannin' evil, +bain't never a fighter." + +"How about they Proosians?" + +Uncle riposted gaily: + +"I hain't one to misparage the enemy, but from what I hears, and you +knows I hears more than most, they Proosians fights wi' wallopin' big +guns, not wi' fisteses." + +"Who's talking o' fisteses?" + +"I be. I reckons as a man past sixty might well stand up to a Proosian +not more'n thirty." + +"You ain't never thinking of enlisting, Habakkuk?" + +"No, no. I couldn't leave 'ee, Jane." + +"You takes keer o' yourself for my sake. I knows that. What be you +thinking of?" + +"You'll know soon enough, old girl. I minds that time when I bruised +meself so bad slidin' off a slippery roof bang on to a stone wall. You +rubbed in some wonnerful stuff. Any of it left?" + +"Lard help us! I knew you'd miss your ale. You bain't never thinking o' +drinking Helliman's Embrocation?" + +"Not yet. Have you the bottle handy?" + +Jane nodded; Uncle relapsed into silence, broken by rumblings and +chucklings. He went to bed early and slept soundly. + +Next afternoon, at four, he entered the sanded bar of Saint's tavern. +Saint drove his 'bus to Salisbury upon alternate days. He had a man to +take his place upon the other days when business kept him at home. +Behind the bar stood a fresh-coloured young woman, quick of tongue and +hand, floridly good-looking, with very alert eyes. Gossip affirmed that +she was secretly engaged to Saint. Jane Mucklow remarked that the hussy +ought to be, if she wasn't. Uncle greeted her pleasantly, nodded to +those present, called for a tankard of ale, and enquired tenderly after +Saint Willum. The young woman frowned. Then she said sharply: + +"I've a mind to tell you something." + +The company present pricked ears. Uncle smiled, drawing himself up, +inflating his chest, quite ready for a preliminary spar. + +"You tell it, my girl. 'Tis crool to think o' what wimmen-folk suffer +from allers holding their tongues." + +"Your tongue is too sharp. Mr. Saint is civil to you. Be civil to him. +That's all." + +She drew his ale, and handed it to him. + +Uncle looked at her with twinkling eyes. She was making things easy for +him, and he felt quite grateful to her. She had fired the first shot. +This might or might not be used as a _casus belli_. He said, meaningly: + +"Be that advice or a warning like?" + +"Take it as both, Mr. Mucklow." + +"I will. Now, tell me this, my girl; be you speaking for yourself, or +for your master? If you be speaking for yourself, I be minded to tell +'ee that you be paid to serve customers, and not to improve their +manners. If you be speaking for Willum Saint, I thanks you very kindly +and passes no more remarks." + +This, it will be admitted, was a crafty speech on Uncle's part, and +pleased him mightily. The girl was sure to resent a rebuke before +others, and already the gaffers were grinning at her. If she shifted +responsibility to Saint Willum, a _casus belli_ had been established. +The young woman lacked Uncle's _finesse_. She answered sullenly: + +"I spoke up for Mr. Saint, because he's not here to speak for himself." + +Uncle felt that this was not satisfactory enough, although promising. + +"You means," he said incisively, "that you speaks words which your +master bain't man enough to speak for hisself, either to my face or +behind me back?" + +The derisive intonation placed upon "master" brought a flush to the +girl's cheek. Her eyes sparkled. And she believed Saint to be a man. + +"If you want it straight," she retorted, "the words I used have been +spoken by Mr. Saint and others." + +"Thank 'ee," said Uncle, lifting his tankard. "I drinks to your good +health, miss. Cheer oh! as our dear lads say." + +He buried his nose in the tankard. But he drank little in it, carrying +it to the stout oak table near the fire. The gaffers testified +afterwards, that Uncle's talk, before Saint came in, was even more +genial and easy than usual. And Saint's face, when he appeared, was in +marked contrast to Uncle's rubicund cheerful countenance. Obviously +Saint was out of temper. He had been cited to appear before the local +tribunal again, and exemption might not be granted twice. "Comb-out" +articles were appearing in the daily press. And Saint, who tapped +private sources of information, was well aware that Captain Davenant, +Chairman of the Board, had expressed a strong opinion that Saint, a +Class A fellow, b'George! ought to be kicked into the ranks. Saint had +just begun to realise, also, that he was hoist with his own petard. +Alfred Yellam, as carrier, set a precedent, shewing that carriers could +find less able-bodied men to transact necessary local business. + +Uncle looked hard at him. + +"What's wrong, Saint Willum?" he asked, in the drawling tone that always +provoked a cackle from the gaffers. + +Saint looked hard at Uncle. He had good reason for knowing that Uncle +saw eye to eye with the Captain. Before entering the bar, the landlord +of the _Sir John Barleycorn_ had drunk some whisky from a bottle which +he kept locked up in his bedroom. In a word, he was ripe for a quarrel. + +"What's wrong?" he repeated viciously. "You are. I'm fed up with your +insolence. You take yourself off to the _Pomfret Arms_. The landlord +there may want your money and your sauce. I've had enough of both." + +The young woman smiled. If, as she expected, and not without good +reason, William Saint became her husband, he might turn out, with +discreet handling, a docile helpmeet. Within twenty-four hours, she had +urged him to "out" Habakkuk Mucklow at the first opportunity. Saint had +hesitated, observing angrily that he detested Uncle, and would gladly +attend his funeral. At the same time, the man brought custom to the +tavern. If he left it, some of his cronies might leave with him. +Whereupon the young woman remarked scornfully: "If you can stick it, +I've nothing more to say." And then she had eyed him slowly from heel to +head, as if taking stock of an animal not quite sound. Saint knew that +his manhood had been challenged by a woman who was becoming +indispensable to him. + +Uncle rose, tankard in hand. His smile was so disarming that Saint, +probably, believed him to be harmless. Accordingly he scowled the more +fiercely as Uncle slowly approached him. An expert of the prize ring, +comparing the two men physically, would have said, off-hand, that age +could never fight youth on equal terms. Saint was stoutly built, heavy +in the shoulder, with good underpinning. He may have lacked two inches +of Uncle's height. + +Uncle feigned nervousness, luring Saint on. Had the landlord been +perfectly sober, he might have suspected guile. Whisky had inflamed his +mind and paralysed his judgment. + +"Don't 'ee talk that way, Mr. Saint. I be old enough to be your father. +And not the man I was." + +Saint exploded. + +"If you don't walk out, I'll kick you out." + +Uncle almost cooed at him. + +"What brave words to an old gaffer past sixty! And before ladies, too." + +The sly emphasis on "ladies" provoked a titter from a granfer warmed by +hot ale. + +Saint sprang to the attack. Now, Uncle, the sly old campaigner, had +foreseen this opening. He knew well enough the advantage of a first +blow. He knew, also, that Saint, out of condition as he was, might end a +fight at close quarters in thirty seconds. Within one minute, so Uncle +reckoned, Saint would have lost fifty per cent of energy and endurance. +With a gay laugh he dashed the ale he had so valiantly refrained from +drinking in Saint's face. + +"That'll cool 'ee," said Uncle, as he side-stepped as gracefully as a +dancing-master. + +Saint was half-blinded, but now well aware that Uncle meant business. He +must "finish" him at once, inflict a "knock-out" blow. He charged again, +head down, like an infuriated bull. Sober reflection might have warned +him that Uncle's arms were longer than his. Uncle raised the tankard and +brought it down hard upon a thick skull. Saint fell to the floor, +stunned. The young woman screamed out: + +"You've killed him!" + +Uncle laughed pleasantly: + +"Not me. I only tapped 'un. Don't 'ee be afeard, my dear. He'll live to +make 'ee miserable. I hopes as I ain't hurt this handsome tankard." He +examined it. "No. 'Tis ale-tight yet. I sees a dent though. 'Twill +serve, like rosemary, for remembrance. Ah-h-h! He be comin' to." + +Saint raised his head, but remained huddled up on the sanded floor, +rubbing his head and staring at the grinning faces about him. Uncle +addressed him with courtesy. + +"Willum Saint, I be a marciful man. There be many here as could testify +and swear by the Book as you assaulted and batteried me, but I won't +have the law on 'ee. More, never again will I call 'ee Saint Willum. For +why?--your immortial soul be too lean. I means to call 'ee, after this +memorable day, Mr. Sinner. And now, Mr. Sinner, I takes myself off to +the _Pomfret Arms_, and my friends go wi' me." + +Three out of the five other men rose solemnly, and called for their +reckoning. The two that remained might have done so had they possessed +cash in their pockets. + +Uncle took off his hat to the young woman, and bowed politely: + +"Good-bye, miss. If he become too rampagious, do 'ee whisper 'tankard' +to 'un." + +Uncle did not walk straight to the _Pomfret Arms_; he fetched a compass, +calling upon Mrs. Yellam. He told his tale without embellishment. Susan +threw back her head and laughed. Then she kissed her brother. + +"Habakkuk," she said solemnly, "'twas a gert victory for you, _and for +me_, over Satan." + +Next day, by the luck of things, Saint met Uncle face to face in the +village street. + +"You downed me last night, because I wasn't sober." + +"Drunk _and_ disorderly!" exclaimed Uncle, raising his voice so that +others might hear. "What would Squire say, if so be as you came afore +the Bench?" + +Saint was perfectly sober and smugly self-possessed. + +"You couldn't down me this morning." + +"I be willing to try," said Uncle, perceiving that he had room for +side-stepping. "You takes your coat off and I takes off mine, and we +goes at it, here and now, slam-bang." + +Saint declined this cordial invitation. He scowled at Uncle, and went +his way. + +Next Sunday Mrs. Yellam's responses were half a second ahead of the +congregation. On the Saturday Fancy had received a long letter from +Alfred. He was out of the danger zone again, and in a rest camp with his +men, who "groused" at "fatigues" imposed upon them unreasonably. Alfred +reported himself sound of left arm, and, as usual, "in the pink." +William Saint did not attend Divine Service, thinking, possibly, that a +large strip of plaster across his head might distract the attention of +the congregation. In this he was needlessly thoughtful, inasmuch as +everybody in the parish knew what had happened in the sanded tap-room, +and acclaimed Uncle as the true sire of a valorous son. Uncle sat in his +pew, as upright as Mrs. Yellam, inviting inspection with an upward cock +of one eyebrow, as much as to say: + +"Look at me, neighbours. Not a mark on me!" + +You may be sure that the Squire had the epic pat from the lips of +Captain Davenant, to whom Uncle had recited it when shooting in the New +Forest. More, the Captain made it clear to the Autocrat how insidiously +Alfred Yellam had been undermined by "Mr. Sinner." Finally, it was +decided between them that William Saint would serve his country to +better advantage away from Nether-Applewhite, and the Squire, gravely +affected by Susan Yellam's troubles, swore that he would personally see +to it that Alfred's carrying business should be resurrected. On Monday +morning, Mrs. Yellam, upon arrival at the Court, was informed that Sir +Geoffrey wished to see her in his room. For a terrible moment, she +feared that the Squire might be about to break bad news of Alfred. A +glance at his jolly face reassured her. + +"Sit you down, Susan. Make yourself comfortable. What about a glass of +port?" + +Mrs. Yellam associated port with funerals. She declined any liquid +refreshment, very politely. The Squire stood upon the hearth-rug, +beneath the portrait of his father, and thrust his hands in his +breeches' pockets. + +"Now, Susan, where is Alfred's 'bus?" + +"In Salisbury, Sir Geoffrey." + +"Out of dry dock? Ready for the road--um?" + +"I believe so, Sir Geoffrey, but Willum Saint has the business; and I +don't know where to turn for a man." + +"That's going to be my affair. I should have made it my affair, if you +had come to me without my sending for you. Alfred has been treated +abominably. All the facts never reached my ears till yesterday, when I +heard about Uncle and the tankard." + +He laughed, and Susan laughed with him. The Squire waxed confidential. + +"Just between us, let it go no further, William Saint will be called +up." + +"The Lard be praised! This be heartsome news, Sir Geoffrey. If you gets +me a man, trade'll come back." + +"You rest easy. I repeat, all this is my affair. I'm still Squire of +Nether-Applewhite. Have you seen my grandson lately?" + +"No, Sir Geoffrey." + +"You come along with me to the nursery, and we'll have a squint at him. +He's a whopper." + +And thus the sun shone bright once more in Mrs. Yellam's heaven. The +Squire proved even better than his word. What he said in private to +William Saint was never known. Sir Geoffrey found, for Mrs. Yellam, a +reliable driver, an ex-soldier discharged from the army but not +disabled, with a merry eye and a persuasive tongue. Saint's 'bus went to +the station, as before, not to Salisbury. + +You may think of this time as the St. Martin's Summer of Mrs. Yellam's +life. The dull November days drifted by, bringing with them mist and +rain and wind; the trees were stripped of their leaves; Nature sang her +requiem for the dying year; but Pentecostal joys filled Mrs. Yellam's +heart. + +And this Feast of Rejoicing affected Fancy and her child. The Yellam +cottage became a heat-centre. From it radiated warming beams. Susan, at +work in her kitchen, could hear Fancy's clear voice singing "Abide with +Me." + + Hold Thou Thy Cross before my closing eyes; + Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies: + Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee; + In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me! + +If it were only so, reflected Mrs. Yellam, how rich and happy life would +be, with all its ups and downs. She remained obstinately convinced that +she wanted the Lord to abide with her. It was He Who left her so +mysteriously. And then, of course, Satan took the vacant place. She +examined herself rigorously. She dealt justly with her neighbours; she +loved mercy; she read her Bible each day. What more could she do? Really +and truly, she demanded so little of Omnipotence--not wealth, not even +health, for, at her age, she must expect aches and pains; just peace, +only that, and Alfred. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +FOOL-WISDOM + + +Fancy's approaching confinement aroused no apprehensions in the mind of +Mrs. Yellam. She took it for granted that nothing untoward would happen. +Probably, the doctor in attendance would make things appear more serious +than they were. Deep down in her heart lay the conviction that doctors, +in their own interests, pursed up lips and bent frowning brows over +sick-beds, because when their patients pulled through the greater credit +attached itself to them. Her own confinements had been reasonably easy, +so she told Fancy. + +Both women wondered whether Alfred would get his Christmas leave and his +Christmas present at the same time. That double event, however, lay upon +the knees of the gods. + +Leave or no leave, Mrs. Yellam told herself that Alfred was safe till +the Spring. Why this conviction came to her she did not explain. Had you +asked her, she would have replied, probably, that the wounded boys at +the Court affirmed nothing to be doing in mid-winter. The sight of +William Saint in khaki nearly made her break into song. The banns of his +approaching marriage to the young person behind the bar were called in +Nether-Applewhite Church, none too soon, according to Jane Mucklow. +Uncle was heard to whisper, "And sarve 'un right!" by neighbours in +adjoining pews. He assured his cronies that Mr. Sinner's punishment was +to come. Susan rejoiced, also, in the notable fact that +Nether-Applewhite harboured no conscientious objectors. Ocknell, the +next parish, was not so fortunate. + +In fine, the first half of December glided by swiftly and pleasantly. +Alfred's business became firmly re-established, and, with Saint no +longer competing, more remunerative than ever. Mrs. Yellam said to +Fancy: + +"Your child, seemin'ly, may be rich." + +She refused to speak of the child as a son. But Fancy's conviction about +that remained impregnable. + +"I ought to know, Mother." + +"Maybe. But you don't. Nobody knows." + +"Alfred wants him to be a girl." + +"Do he? I wonders why." + +"He said a little maid would traipse so nicely after you. I promised him +to call her Lizzie. She'll be the next." + +"Lizzie! Ah-h-h! Alferd be a good son. Fancy his thinkin' o' that. +Lizzie----!" + +She spoke the name almost under her breath. A moment later, she removed +her spectacles, and wiped them. The two women were sitting in the +kitchen by the hearth, after supper. A basket held the logs. The cradle +was upstairs in Mrs. Yellam's room. In that room, despite Fancy's +protests, Alfred's child would be born. In that room Susan Yellam's +first baby had wailed his regret at finding himself in a wicked world. +In that room her husband had died. Everything lay ready to hand; the +monthly nurse lived only a quarter of a mile away; the doctor had been +advised that he might be wanted at any minute. + +Fancy loved to sit over the fire, listening to the wind talking to the +chimney, telling that stay-at-home the tale of many wanderings. She +liked to make-believe that the winds were real persons, although she had +never heard of Æolus and his rebellious prisoners. She hated to pick +flowers because they must feel so unhappy out of their own garden. Of +course, they died of loneliness in mid-Victorian vases. She held +inviolate her faith in fairies, beneficent and malevolent. She assured +Mrs. Yellam that Solomon could see pixies dancing in their rings. How +else could you account for his stopping in the middle of a field and +barking? + +Of her mother and the four Evangelists she said nothing. + +Uncle and she became great friends. + +Three days out of the week (as has been mentioned), from October to the +end of January, Uncle served as "beater" to Captain Davenant, when that +veteran went shooting in the New Forest. Returning home, about five, +Uncle liked to wander into Mrs. Yellam's cottage and drink a cup of tea +instead of marching up to the _Pomfret Arms_, where his supremacy as a +talker and man of the world might be disputed by certain bagmen in that +inn, which prided itself upon being "more class" than the _Sir John +Barleycorn_. Fancy paid homage to Uncle, as the favourite brother of +Mrs. Yellam, ministering to his love of creature comforts, making hot +buttered toast and putting cream into his tea, which he never got at +home. Whenever Jane happened to be "miffed" her husband tactically +retreated to what he now termed "Fancy's rest camp." He found her alone +there, because Mrs. Yellam was now on duty at Pomfret Court from two +till seven. Fancy and Uncle would sit by the fire and talk. + +Between Uncle's house and the Yellam cottage stood a clump of firs, near +the river. Each year, during the annual migration, ospreys, probably +southward bound from Scotland, would roost for one night only in these +firs. Uncle had watched them many a time. They would circle three times +round the firs and then alight upon them. Always the young birds, that +year's nestlings, would come first. The parent birds followed, perhaps +two days later. The sense of direction, the triple circling round the +same trees, on the part of young birds, who preceded their parents, +filled Fancy with astonishment. Being urban, she delighted in Uncle's +Arcadian lore. She asked him to explain this amazing performance. + +"Birds be wiser than we, my girl." + +Alfred had made the same remark about water-rats. + +"How do they find their way, Uncle?" + +"Ah-h-h! How does a young hound find his way back to kennels, when he be +taken to a distant meet by train, to new country never seen afore? You +answer me that." + +"I can't. Can you?" + +"I thinks I can. 'Tis fool-wisdom. Wimmenfolk has it, because they be +nearer to the animals than we men." + +Fancy wondered whether this was to be taken as a compliment. Uncle +continued: + +"Fool-wisdom comes from God A'mighty. We be told that He don't forget +one sparrer. I never liked sparrers too well, because they interferes +crool wi' the house-martins, pore lil' dears. Yas--God A'mighty guides +they young ospreys. I've a notion that He'd guide us if so be as we +weren't so set on guiding ourselves. That be the main trouble wi' my +dear sister." + +Fancy opened her eyes wide. + +"What are you saying, Uncle?" + +"I be fool-wise, my girl. I sees that you be mazed. Fool-wisdom be what +we read on in the Holy Book, the sart that God A'mighty gives to babes +and sucklings. My dear sister be full o' man's wisdom, just so clever as +a man can be. She takes credit to herself for every big onion in her +garden." + +Fancy said slily: + +"But, Uncle, you took credit for George getting the Victoria Cross." + +"So I did. A sharp 'un you be, for sartain. 'Tis true. Where would pore +Garge be if I hadn't begotten 'un? And 'twas my brave will as sent 'un +to Salisbury to enlist. But I gives the Lard the credit for pickin' such +a man as I be for Garge's father. And Garge's valorous deed was a +marvellous miracle upsides wi' they young ospreys findin' their way to +our clump o' firs." + +"You ought to be a preacher, Uncle." + +"Ah-h-h! 'Tis easy for me to preach, allers was; but practisin' be the +devil. Me and Pa'son be o' the same mind about that. But how I be +wanderin' from my text! We was talkin' of fool-wisdom and your dear +mother-in-law." + +"She's my mother now." + +"Ay. And I bain't fit to black her boots when it comes to practisin'. I +knows that. But she ain't got fool-wisdom, as I calls it." + +Fancy considered this attentively. Uncle puffed at his pipe, glancing at +Fancy's pensive face. He saw that he had puzzled her, and pulled himself +together for another effort. + +"'Tis like this. Susan be proud because she thinks as she walks wi' God +A'mighty. She takes credit for that, pore soul! Now, I be proud and so +humble as a bee when the Lard sees fit to walk wi' me. That be my +fool-wisdom, Fancy." + +"I see." + +And she did. Uncle's naïve remarks were illuminating. She +could look back, by the light of fool-wisdom, and sort out +innumerable, half-forgotten trifles, unconsidered at the time, which +corroborated, almost disconcertingly, this--what could she call it? +Yes--vaingloriousness on the part of Mrs. Yellam. Another word, in +every-day use amongst the "boys," bustled into her mind--"swank." She +smiled. It seemed a wicked word to apply to such a majestic woman, and +yet it was just right. Mrs. Yellam did "swank" whenever she talked of +herself or Alfred. She had won first prize for the best village garden +at the annual Flower Show, discontinued since the outbreak of war, +because, so she told Fancy, she tended her vegetables herself. Alfred's +robust health, his sobriety, his capacity for steady work, his +churchgoing, his pleasant manners with neighbours--all these were +feathers in Mrs. Yellam's cap, placed there by herself! She was set on +guiding herself and others, admittedly a leader. Uncle was right. His +dear sister did not walk humbly with the Lord. Hamlin's sermon had not +been forgotten by Fancy. His son's death had made it an imperishable +memory. And Mrs. Yellam, it will be recalled, had shrewdly suspected +that the Parson had aimed a shaft or two at her. Had he? Could it be +possible that this wonderful old woman's soul was lean? Naturally Fancy +shrank from such a conclusion. + +To lighten her mind, and with the intention of extracting more +fool-wisdom from Uncle, she said mischievously: + +"Uncle----?" + +"Yas, my dear----?" + +"What takes a man to the ale-house? Fool-wisdom?" + +Uncle threw back his handsome head and roared with laughter. But +fool-wisdom told him that this was the right way to tackle a backslider. +What a pity that Jane disdained indirect methods! He shook a long +forefinger in a smiling face. + +"You lil' besom----! Now, if Alferd ever takes a notion to drink more +ale than be strictly needful to slake a pleasant thirst, you poke just +such fun at 'un, and smile at 'un, as you be smilin' at an old sinner +this minute. My wife be a good, faithful 'ooman, but vartue wi' her be +turned sourish, like that there clarety wine, the only liquor as never +did lie easy on my good stomach. Maybe I married her latish in life. And +cooks, from stewin' over fire, do seem to overbake their livers and +lights. Anyways, hard looks drive a man to ale-house; smiles keep 'un at +home. I admits to you, Fancy, but never a word to Jane, mind 'ee, that +ale be my weakness. 'Twould be blasphemious to say that the Lard ever +walked wi' me _to_ an ale-house, except on one very notable occasion, +but 'tis a fact that in His Marcy He have walked wi' me _from_ the _Sir +John Barleycorn_. And now you has it." + +"Tell me about the notable exception." + +"Ah-h-h! You knows. The Lard walked wi' me when I downscrambled Willum +Saint. I gives He the credit. He put the notion into my head o' flingin' +Willum's ale into Willum's face, and bashin' 'un wi' his own tankard. I +tell 'ee that notion come to me bang from Kingdom Come. My own notion +was different. I calkilated on a stand-up fight. Willum might ha' downed +me, being so young and strong a man. And I tells 'ee more, a lil' +secret, seein' as you has the trick o' squeezin' secrets out o' sinners: +the Lard walks wi' me when I comes here to see you. And I be drinkin' +less ale in consekence." + +With that he kissed Fancy and took his leave. + +Solomon jumped into the warm, cushioned arm-chair. But, instead of +curling himself up, he walked three times round the chair, and then sat +up, with his head on one side glancing interrogatively at Fancy, as much +as to say: + +"If you want fool-wisdom, why not tap it at its source?" + +Fancy eyed him reflectively. All day, the dog had behaved strangely. He +never left Fancy for a moment. But, till now, he had seemed disinclined +for conversation. And he had hardly touched his dinner. Again and again +he had walked round the kitchen, whining a little. Fancy, supposing that +he wished to go outside, had opened the door, but he remained with her, +staring up at her, as if he had some message to deliver. Finally, she +jumped to the conclusion that the dog must be feeling unwell, or, +possibly, cats lay heavy on his conscience. + +"What is it, Solomon?" + +He whined. + +"Got a pain, Solly?" + +He regarded her sorrowfully. Till that moment Fancy had been happy and +light-hearted. Uncle had cheered her up. And his parting remark was +uplifting and unmistakable. God had seen fit to use her, Fancy Yellam, +as a humble instrument whereby Uncle's thirst for ale became less +importunate. A warm glow suffused her small body. + +And now, suddenly, she felt chilled, uneasy, unhappy, merely because a +dog gazed mournfully at her, as if he, the wicked little sinner, were +grieving for her. Did he know that pain was coming to her inexorably? As +the thought assailed her mind, so swiftly that she winced, Solomon's +tail flickered. Not in joyousness. She divined that. In some uncanny +fashion he was encouraging her to accept this thought of pain, to +confront it valiantly, not to shrink from it. + +"Do you know, Sol?" she whispered. + +His tail flickered again. He leaped into her lap, and laid his head upon +her bosom. She could feel his heart beating; her own heart beat with it. + +Was this another amazing proof of fool-wisdom? + +Peace came back to her. Humbly, she committed herself to the keeping of +Omnipotence, thinking intently of her mother. Solomon never moved. She +was intimately sensible that this dumb creature comforted her. She +glanced into the shadows of the kitchen. Had her mother's face and +figure formed themselves out of those shadows, she would not have been +surprised or frightened. She expected to see her. The conviction stole +slowly upon her that the mother stood near her, invisible, but a +powerful protector. And from her would radiate hope and faith and love. +She would be with her in her travailings.... + +Presently, another thought stole upon her. As Mrs. Yellam said, Fancy +had never seen her mother in the flesh. It seemed so cruel that she +should have been taken at a moment when tiny lips were wailing for what +she alone could give. From a child she had wanted her mother. To-night, +for the first time, it flashed into her mind that, perhaps, her mother +had wanted her--desperately. Just as she wanted her child. How bitter a +disappointment it must be to forego the tender ministrations, the sweet +services which only women know, and which, in their fool-wisdom, they +count dearer than anything the world can bestow. + +If--if anything went wrong, she would join her mother.... + +Solomon lay motionless, but his heart went on throbbing. + +Why? + +A last thought, the greatest, seemed to float direct from her mother's +mind to hers. Alfred was facing death, daily, with a laugh, facing, too, +the possibility of grinding pain. As a soldier's wife, she must try to +be brave, like him.... + +Solomon moved restlessly, and then sprang to the floor. He wagged his +tail briskly, as he took up a commanding position near the door. Mrs. +Yellam was approaching the cottage. If Fancy opened the door and looked +out, she would not see her because it was dark. But she would not hear +her, either. And if she called, Mrs. Yellam would not answer, being, as +yet, too far away. + +But Solomon knew. + +Within five minutes, Susan Yellam entered, bringing with her an +exhilarating atmosphere of keen, fresh air. Her cheeks were red; her +eyes sparkled. + +"Frost be coming, and maybe snow. I likes to see God A'mighty's world +white and clean come Christmastide." + +The old woman bustled about cheerfully, commanding Fancy to sit still. +She had brought with her a fat hen-pheasant, a gift from the Squire to +Alfred's wife. + +"Folks are very kind," said Fancy. + +"Ah, well, 'tis easy to be kind when we be happy. Captain Pomfret walked +wi' one crutch to-day. And they be drinking champagne for dinner. 'Tis +the work o' that Lunnon doctor, so they say, a very wonnerful chap wi' +electrics, bridlin' the lightnin', so to speak. And they perfarms +miracles wi' men's faces, manufacturin' noses and what-not just so easy +as pats o' butter. Such fellers must be proud o' theirselves." + +"Maybe Mr. Hamlin'll return thanks in church, next Sunday." + +"More'n likely. I never thought o' that." + +"I wonder," said Fancy, "how it all comes to them, inventions, such as +wireless and--and chloroform as takes away pain." + +Mrs. Yellam chided her, very pleasantly: + +"Now, don't 'ee flustrate yourself wi' thoughts o' chloryform. I allows +that I can answer your question. Inventions comes to they as works hard +for 'un. 'Tis hard work, and nothing else." + +"Uncle would call it--fool-wisdom." + +"Fool-wisdom?" + +Fancy explained. Mrs. Yellam listened attentively, shaking her head from +time to time. Uncle's position, to-day, would be as financially sound as +her own, had he worked hard at his calling, and spent less time on +crack-brained speculations and less good money on ale. She said as much, +derisively. Fancy said: + +"How does Solly know when you turn the corner by the mill?" + +"Dog's instinct." + +"Maybe 'tis the same thing." + +"Fiddle!" + +Fancy refrained from pressing the point, but something told her that +Uncle was right, and his clever, practical sister wrong. One thing was +delightfully certain. Happiness had made Mrs. Yellam kind. And it filled +her with piety. She walked proudly with the Lord, carrying a high head. +She had forgiven William Saint his trespasses, and expressed a trenchant +conviction that Satan had removed his headquarters from +Nether-Applewhite to Ocknell. And she was equally sure that Alfred would +be home for Christmas, because her troubles had come in battalions at +midsummer. + +"Turn and turn about be only fair," she told Fancy. + +Fancy said hesitatingly: + +"The cards told true before, didn't they?" + +"Ah-h-h! I don't pin my faith to they, child. I be weather-wise, not +fool-wise. We has spells o' wet and spells o' dry. It be dry now, and +likely to remain so, I reckons." + +Fancy nodded, quite willing to believe that the Yellam barometer would +stay, for a long spell, at "Set Fair." + +After supper, when the kitchen was in perfect order, Mrs. Yellam sat +knitting beside Fancy. Solomon lay at the feet of his mistress. The logs +burned briskly, another evidence of coming frost. Sparks burst out of +them, dazzling scintillations, miniature fireworks. Mrs. Yellam was +impressed by this pyrotechnic display. + +"It minds me of when Master Lionel come of age. I hopes they logs'll +burn like that when Alferd is sittin' here, wi' a baby on his knee." + +Mrs. Yellam appeared so satisfied with life in general that Fancy +hesitated to disturb the peace, but impulse was too strong for her. + +"Solly acted very queer all day." + +"Did he now?" + +"Hardly touched his nice dinner." + +"Well, well, times he takes a notion to scrummage in dustheaps, the lil' +scavenger! 'Tis the male in him, I reckons. And far-seein'. He do take a +squint into the future, seemin'ly." + +Fancy stared at Mrs. Yellam, slightly startled. + +"He buries bones and beastliness all over my garden. I caught 'un wi' a +cod's head, and cuffed his, I did." + +"I took the notion that he was worrying about--about me." + +"Did 'ee, now? Natural enough. You bide so ca'm as I be. Worry brings +peevish children into this world. You sing a hymn, if you think it'll +hearten you up. 'Onward, Christian Soldiers,' be my fav'rite." + +"I do love 'Abide with Me.'" + +"You sing what you've a mind to. You be near your time, and must please +yourself. Singin' helped me, but it druv my pore man to the ale-house. +So I quit hymns, for his sake." + +"Was Mr. Yellam with you when your first baby was born?" + +"My, no! What a queer lil' thing you be! He was carrier, wi' business to +attend to. Men bain't wanted at such times." + +"I should like to have Alfred." + +"No, you wouldn't. Take that from me. I've a mind to give 'ee a sip o' +currant wine." + +Fancy declined this, with many thanks. The talk became desultory, and +died down. Fancy dozed off quietly. Mrs. Yellam laid down her knitting +and gazed keenly at the pale face bent upon the thin bosom. _Spindlin'!_ +Her own word came back to her. She saw that a faint smile curved the +girl's lips. Evidently she was dreaming happily. Of what? Solomon rose, +stretched himself, and stood beside his mistress. He whined a little. +Mrs. Yellam recalled what Fancy had said about his "acting queer." + +"She bain't too strong," she muttered. + +Solomon whined again and lay down. + +Mrs. Yellam's face hardened. The same thought that had assailed Fancy +attacked her, burying fangs in her heart. + +If things went wrong----? + +Resolutely, she put this thought from her. God's ways might be +mysterious, but surely, surely He would stand by this frail creature, +and temper the wind to her. Even to ask Him to do so seemed impertinent. +Prayer came to her lips and fluttered away. She closed them tightly. All +would go well, because of those four graves in the churchyard. She had +visited them on the previous Sunday. They were certainly a credit to +her. She washed the marble cross upon Lizzie's grave twice a year, and +planted flowers on each plot. Coming out of church, strangers would +pause to look at the Yellam reservation. If they read the +carefully-selected inscriptions, Mrs. Yellam would feel much uplifted. +In her square, brass-cornered desk, lay a sealed paper containing +instructions concerning her own funeral. A plain slab would tell other +strangers the date of her birth and death, her name, and her +destination. "Gone Home" was to be chiselled upon grey granite, and +filled in with leaded letters. Death had never dismayed her. When her +work was done, she would be called. + +Fancy woke up, still smiling. + +"You had a nice doze, dear. Pleasant dreams, too." + +"Yes," said Fancy. But she couldn't remember her dreams. + +As she got out of her chair to go upstairs, she said: + +"This has been a happy day, Mother. I must remember it. What is the day +of the month?" + +Mrs. Yellam answered promptly: + +"It be the fifteenth of December. Only ten days to Christmas." + +Mrs. Yellam never forgot this date. Word came to her some days later. On +the fifteenth of December, a night attack was made upon German trenches, +an affair of small importance, not even mentioned in the papers. When +the men returned to their dug-outs, Sergeant Yellam was +reported--_Missing_. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +MISSING! + + +Everybody assured Mrs. Yellam that Alfred had been taken prisoner. Uncle +was doubtful whether any nephew of his could be taken prisoner, but he +did not say this before his sister. The Squire, good fellow, spent time +and money over telegrams to the Colonel commanding Alfred's battalion. +And the answer confirmed popular opinion that Alfred, by now, was in +Germany, where prisoners of war--so Sir Geoffrey assured Mrs. Yellam, +received more humane treatment. The dead and wounded, after the night +attack, had been brought in. Alfred was not amongst them. And therefore +a prisoner. His Colonel, without a word from Sir Geoffrey, expressed +that as his positive belief. + +Fancy, very white and anxious, hugged such belief to her small bosom. +She said to Mrs. Yellam: + +"Alfred will come back." + +Mrs. Yellam kissed her, muttering: + +"Yes, yes. You be a brave lil' 'ooman." + +But Susan Yellam was dissembling. Iron had entered her soul again, iron +and ice. To Uncle and Solomon she admitted this. + +"He be dead, Habakkuk. I knows it. They Proosians 'd never take Alferd +alive. He be dead, and so be I." + +Poor Uncle fell back upon fool-wisdom. + +"Now, Susan, in these high matters, the truth be revealed to simple +minds, like Fancy's. Me and you, dear, be too clever. I've often thought +that gert brains, like yours, be a crool burden in such times as these. +You be too far-seein'. Fancy be wise as a bird. If she sticks to it as +Alferd be comin' back, come back he will, whatever you thinks." + +But Mrs. Yellam refused to be comforted. + +Next Sunday her pew was empty. Many charitably assigned this to Fancy's +condition. Hamlin and Uncle knew better. And they took counsel together. + +"Can anything be said or done, Uncle?" asked the Parson. + +Uncle answered wisely: + +"She be past man's help, sir. Me and you has seen this a-comin' from +afar. The pore soul can guide herself so well as any 'ooman I knows, but +she do hate to be guided. Allers, she walked wi' the Lard in health, but +not in sickness. 'Tis wondersome, but it works t'other way about wi' me. +In health I seems to wander from the Lard, do what I will." + +"I tried once before--and failed." + +"Ah-h-h! You be a faithful shepherd, Mr. Hamlin; we all knows that. If +you ask my advice, sir----" + +"I do. I do." + +"Leave her in the Lard's Hands. None can deny that she be a faithful +servant o' His. He'll take pity on the pore dear in His good time." + +Hamlin seldom asked for advice from his fellow-men. He nodded his head, +shook Uncle's horny hand, and went back to his study. + +The great sacrifice demanded of him had strained his faith. Nobody would +ever know that. For a few hours he had sat alone, stunned by sorrow. He +told himself fiercely that he could have spared any one of his sons +except Teddy. The worldly ambitions which this man had renounced for +himself bloomed more vigorously for Teddy. He had all the qualities +which carry a young man far on any road: robust health, excellent +brains, untiring energy, and a kind heart. His jolly laugh, as Hamlin +knew, had secured him advancement, quite apart from his ability. Others +had ability. The happy combination of laughter and energy had fetched +four hundred a year in the open market. And Hamlin knew, none better, +what such men are worth to the world, what a stimulus a cheery word and +smile may be to the weary and sad. Why had Teddy been taken? + +Ultimately, he answered that question. + +He must be wanted elsewhere. Hamlin held definite opinions about a +future life. He believed that death involved little change. He believed, +further, that the conflict between good and evil went on upon the Other +Side, that souls expanded or diminished over there just as here. Upon +that belief he had built up his philosophy of life. It explained and +justified apparent injustices and inequalities very perplexing to him as +a young man. He believed, also, that good or evil inspired all human +endeavour. The clay was informed by the spirit. Great writers, +influencing millions, were merely the mouthpiece, the megaphone, of +invisible spirits, guardian angels, to use the homely nursery +expression, who whispered their message to the vessel appointed to +receive it. Nobody, for many years, had heard him praise +enthusiastically an individual. He praised the work that each had been +inspired to do. In Nether-Applewhite, there happened to be a village +idiot, whose great lolling head and vacuous eyes excited terror in +children and often revulsion in adults. And the man was past middle age, +helpless and gibbering from birth. Hamlin never passed him without +reflecting that death would release an imprisoned soul destined, +perhaps, to an undreamed-of development hereafter, the greater because +it had been denied expression on earth. And, inversely, when he met, as +he did occasionally, men pre-eminent in science, or art, or industry, he +seemed to see clearly the man standing sharply apart from his work, +often a very ordinary person, undistinguished save for the amazing fact +that he had been selected, out of millions, to accomplish something +vital to the progress of the world. + +He had found Authority for this personal belief in the New Testament. + +Hamlin sat still by his fire and thought of Mrs. Yellam. He desired to +help her with an intensity which few would have suspected. Her empty +pew, as before, stood out in his mind as a vacuum which he abhorred. Not +because he was a parson. Churchgoing, in one sense, the sense in which +William Saint regarded it, touched his humour. To go to church because +it was respectable and pleased the Squire, to mumble prayers, to +preserve a smug deportment, and rattle coins into an offertory plate, +approximated closely to comic opera! Mrs. Yellam attended church to +worship her Maker. Her abstention from Divine Service indicated loss of +faith, the most grievous loss that can be imposed upon human beings. +Faith filled Mrs. Yellam's pew; faithlessness emptied it. And if she, +the strong woman, the helper in so many good works, stayed away from +God's House, what would be the effect on the faith of others who looked +up to her as a pattern and example? + +His fighting instincts were strongly stirred. But Uncle was right. For +the moment, Susan Yellam stood alone, beyond man's help. + +He went to see her as a friend. As before, she received him with perfect +self-possession, answered his questions quietly, and assured him that +her own health caused her no anxiety. Hamlin thought of a chapel +standing by itself upon a high hill near Abbotsbury, in perfect +condition without, stripped within, an empty and deserted temple. +Presently Fancy came in, and Mrs. Yellam went out. After the first +greeting, Fancy exclaimed eagerly: + +"I know that Alfred will come back. I feel it here." + +She touched her bosom. + +He perceived, with poignant regret, the ravages wrought by suspense. But +this, he soon discovered, was not due to apprehension concerning +herself. She was worrying because Alfred would not get enough to eat. +She talked confidently of his escape from bondage. Alfred was a man of +resource, quick to seize opportunity. Dozens had got through to Holland. +Why not he? + +Then she spoke of the war. What did it all mean, this never-ending +slaughter? Was God angry with the world? + +Hamlin felt more at ease with this softer specimen of womanhood, who had +served him faithfully. He admitted frankly, despite the evidence of the +Old Testament, that he could not conceive of Omnipotence as "angry." +Then he appealed to her imagination, evoking out of his own hopes and +hypotheses a new world of nations, linked together by a nobler and wider +humanity, poorer in material things, richer in faith and charity. He +sketched for her prehistoric man concerned only with self-preservation. +He passed from this ape-man to his successor informed by love of his own +family. From him again to the chief concerned with the welfare of his +tribe. And thence to the monarch and his nation. + +"We must come, sooner or later, to Universal Brotherhood. That, I think, +Fancy, may come sooner because of this war. The gain to those who are +not yet born may be ten thousand times greater than our loss." + +Her pale cheeks flushed. + +"I'd like to think that." She paused, adding modestly: "Although my +thoughts don't matter." + +"But they do," he hastened to say. "This war is forcing people to think, +who have never thought before. Perhaps we preachers and teachers have +been unwise in asking others to accept our thoughts, instead of +encouraging them to think for themselves. Don't be afraid of thinking +things out. And when it comes to matters of religion, of faith...." + +He paused, trying to find simple words, struck by the intensity of her +glance, knowing that what he might say would be pondered over by a quick +intelligence. + +"Yes, sir----?" + +"There would seem to be two kinds of faith, Fancy; the faith that falls +like the dew from heaven upon some little children, a free gift from +God; and the faith which we have to work for, and suffer for, and fight +for with every fibre of our being. I have had to work for my faith; I +have had to dig down and down till I came at last to some rock upon +which I could stand. I could hardly bear the cruelty of these times, if +I had not found that rock." + +"What is that rock, sir?" + +"A conviction that this life is only a part, a small part of a +tremendous whole which our finite minds are unable to grasp. That +conviction comes from experience. It is independent of what is called +revealed religion, although it has been revealed by all religions, +inasmuch as it must come from within to be of any real value and +comfort. It must be worked for, as I say, and paid for. The reward, when +that rock is reached, is very great." + +"What is it, sir?" + +"The peace that passes understanding. And now, Fancy, in the trial that +awaits you, trust in that first faith of which I spoke, the faith that I +am sure is yours. God knows what is best for us. We all try to make Him +walk in our ways, instead of walking humbly in His." + +She said shyly: "Thank you, sir; you have made things easier for me." + +It was late when Hamlin left the Yellam cottage and bitterly cold. He +walked to Pomfret Court, and found the Squire in his room. In that room +hard words had passed between Squire and Parson. To-day they were +friends, working together. And the marriage of their children did not +adequately account for this. It was one of the unexpected results of the +war. + +"Dinner in five-and-twenty minutes," said Sir Geoffrey. "I'm delighted to +see you, my dear fellow." + +"I wish I could stop. I need your help." + +The Squire rang the bell. When the butler came, dinner was postponed a +quarter of an hour. Another straw to indicate a change in domestic +currents. Before the war, dinner at Pomfret Court had been regarded as a +sacred function, never postponed merely because the Parson wanted a word +with the Squire. + +"I want you to pull more strings," said Hamlin, after telling his story +at some length. "You know swells at the Foreign Office. It must be +possible to find out through some kind neutral at The Hague whether a +prisoner of the name of Alfred Yellam was taken upon the night of the +fifteenth. Very few prisoners have been taken lately; that would make +the enquiry comparatively simple." + +"I'll draw that cover to-morrow morning." + +Hamlin thanked him and hurried away. The Squire was amazing. To travel +to London in this bitter weather meant the sacrifice of what the genial +Autocrat ranked high--comfort. He would go, like a terrier to a fox, +straight to a Mandarin and bark at him, worry him, stick to him, till a +pledge was extracted. + +He thought of the trains congested by Christmas travel, the lack of +porters and taxis. Obviously, the Squire recked nothing of this in his +hot desire to do a kind turn to a humble neighbour. + +Hamlin reflected that Christmas would be the cosier to the Autocrat +after a cold excursion. He remembered hearing him say that he never +appreciated his own fireside so much as after a bad day's hunting, when +the wind blew chill from the north and hounds wouldn't run a yard. + +Thoughts of hunting distracted the Parson as he strode back to his +lonely Vicarage. What a master passion it was in everybody! The Squire +hunted foxes in all weathers, regardless of weather conditions. Nothing +stopped him but a hard frost. His Parson hunted men and women, a more +arduous chase, hounding them out of covers where dirt, ignorance, +poverty and vice hid them from view. A hard frost, such as had settled +on Susan Yellam, stopped him. Others hunted fame, money, position, just +as ardently. And a hard frost, like this war, stopped them. + +When would the thaw set in for Mrs. Yellam? + +Upon Christmas Eve Fancy's ordeal began. + +Hamlin hoped and believed that tiny hands would melt the ice in an old +woman's heart. Everybody knew that Susan Yellam loved children, and that +her rather grim face inspired no terrors in them. She kept the large +green bottle full of bull's-eyes, simply because it lured pattering feet +to her door. If they trotted up too often, rebukes, not bull's-eyes, +were forthcoming. A sure way to her favour, as little girls soon +discovered, was to ask for a flower out of the garden. Farseeing women, +over-busy on washing-days, popped torn pinafores onto their toddlers, +knowing that Mrs. Yellam would be sure to take her needle and repair the +damage. She could always be called upon to sit up with a sick child, +provided--_bien entendu_--that she was permitted to administer her own +simple medicines. Grateful mothers, with an eye upon further favours, +would say to Mrs. Yellam in the presence of neighbours: + +"Susan Yellam saved my Daisy's life." + +And then Mrs. Yellam would nod majestically, accepting such artful +homage as her just due. + +To Mrs. Yellam's great relief, Fancy suffered less than she had feared +and expected. Nature was kind to this soft-boned little woman, and +chloroform assuaged the fiercer pangs. But the baby seemed loath to +enter so cold a world. There were long and exasperating intermittencies, +which Fancy endured very patiently. Throughout these periods, when Fancy +wished to talk about Alfred, Mrs. Yellam dissembled. She even went so +far, in her eagerness to please and distract the patient, that she +accepted the sex of the tardy infant, speaking of it as "him," to +Fancy's great gratification. + +Finally, "He" was born at two o'clock upon Christmas Day. + +And, alack! the cards had not told true. _He_ was a _She_. + +Fancy did not know this for some time. Too exhausted to ask questions, +she lay silent and still, a faint smile upon her white face, till she +dozed off into a dreamless sleep. + +In the parlour downstairs, where a fire had been lighted in the doctor's +honour, Mrs. Yellam received another blow. There had been no +complications in the case; the baby was perfectly formed and normal in +every way. Nevertheless, the doctor looked worried and refused such +refreshment as had been provided. Obviously, too, he was in a hurry to +be gone, but he lingered. + +"She is very weak," he said, in a low, impressive voice. + +"That's natural." + +"Keep her as quiet as possible. I shall return about ten. The nurse has +my instructions. Great lack of vitality is indicated. Needless to say, +there is no question of her nursing the child. You are a strong, +sensible woman, Mrs. Yellam, and able to hide any anxiety you may feel +from the patient." + +The poor heart, just beginning to thaw, felt an icy hand closing about +it. + +"I know how to behave," she muttered. + +"I must prepare you for a possible change--not for the better." + +"Yes." + +She spoke so calmly, that the doctor glanced at her keenly. Was she +indifferent? It might be so. Relations, as he well knew, were often +strained between elderly women of strong character and their sons' +wives. He knew that Alfred had been reported missing. The monthly nurse +might be regarded as a professional, like himself, willing and able to +do her duty. More than this might be required. He reflected swiftly that +he must make the situation even plainer to this somewhat hard-faced, +hard-eyed woman. + +"She might sink from anæmia, Mrs. Yellam." + +"I understand, sir." + +He slipped on his heavy coat, picked up hat and gloves and turned to +leave the room. His motor was gently purring outside. Mrs. Yellam prided +herself upon her manners. But she never moved to open the door, till the +doctor had his hand upon it. + +"Sir----?" + +"Yes?" + +She approached him. Her face remained calm, but he saw that her strong, +capable hands were twitching. Her voice, too, quavered a little. + +"She be very dear to me, so dear that I be ready to fight for her life +harder than I would for my own. That's all." + +The doctor, ashamed of too hasty conclusions, took both her hands in +his. + +"That is much," he said gravely; "and it may make all the difference. +Good-night, Mrs. Yellam." + +"Good-morning, sir," she admonished him. + +Left alone, she sat down, palsied by despair. + +And this was Christmas Day! + +Upon the table, near the window, the big Bible caught her eye. She +stared at it, thinking of the page upon which, soon, she might be called +upon to make three entries--two deaths and one birth. Heavy +antimacassars embellished the horsehair-covered sofa and the armchairs. +Mrs. Yellam rose up, snatched three antimacassars from their +abiding-place and covered the Bible with them. Then she sat down again, +looking about her, glaring at the familiar objects, so eloquent of the +past. Upon each side of a large mirror, with its gilt frame protected by +muslin from flies that had never dared to enter the room, hung two +enlarged photographs of herself and her husband, taken some +five-and-twenty years ago. They seemed to stare unblushingly and +aggressively at her, as if they were rude strangers overbrimming with +self-importance, smug with prosperity. + +"Fools," said Mrs. Yellam, scornfully. + +She looked at the other photographs, each in turn, portraits of the +children who lay in the churchyard. + +"You be the lucky ones," she said, in the same derisive tone. + +There were many photographs of Alfred in all stages of development: +Alfred sucking his thumb with an expression upon his year-old +countenance as if he were thinking regretfully of something more +nourishing; Alfred in a much be-ribanded frock; Alfred in +knickerbockers; Alfred in a kilt; Alfred in trowsers, evidently on good +terms with himself and all the world; Alfred as he appeared in his +Sunday best, about to take the air with an audacious parlourmaid; and, +lastly, Alfred in khaki and Fancy, arm in crook. + +She glanced hastily at other photographs, of Sir Geoffrey and Lady +Pomfret and Master Lionel. They smiled so pleasantly that she frowned. +How dared they smile? + +She was not needed yet upstairs. So she sat on in the gate of her +sorrows, alone in the valley of Achor. + +She heard Solomon scratching at the door. She had left him asleep in his +basket, always placed each night by the kitchen hearth. Mrs. Yellam let +the dog scratch, but when he began whining she let him in, because Fancy +might be disturbed, not because she wanted her dog. + +Solomon looked at her, and knew. + +He governed himself accordingly. Mrs. Yellam had returned to her chair. +Solomon lay down at her feet. When she wanted to talk to him, she would +do so. He kept one ear cocked for the first word. + +During twenty minutes no word was said. The nurse was in charge of Fancy +and the baby. Mrs. Yellam had looked forward to assisting at these first +rites. The expected pleasure had turned into a grinding pain. + +Fancy was going, drifting out of life. Probably her baby would not +survive her many days. But she, the old woman, would remain. She gazed +down the long perspective of the years to come, cold, dull days without +one gleam of sunshine, full of inevitable pain. + +"I can't bear it," she said aloud. "It be too much for me." + +Solomon heard. He knew, of course, that the long-awaited words were not +addressed to him, but they sounded a clarion note of distress. + +He laid his head against her knee. + +She looked at him, meeting his clear young eyes. They seemed to be full +of interrogation. + +"If you want to talk, why not talk to me instead of to yourself?" + +She patted his head, and let her hand rest upon it. According to Uncle, +fool-wisdom in dogs warned them of impending disaster. Mrs. Yellam knew +that Solomon had behaved strangely upon the fifteenth of December. Uncle +had drawn conclusions from this which he shared with Fancy and his +sister. If fool-wisdom on the part of dogs could be interpreted by man, +and he held that he was the man to do it, why, then, the fact of Solomon +acting "queer" during the day of the fifteenth surely indicated +fore-knowledge of Alfred's danger. But the attack had taken place at +night. And the dog had exhibited no "queerness" after sundown. Fancy had +been much impressed. In his heart, however, Uncle could not envisage +Alfred as a prisoner. And we know that Mrs. Yellam shared this view. At +the same time, with her loss of faith in the mercy of Omnipotence, and +filling the vacuum which Hamlin so abhorred, came the old craving to +clutch at "signs." It is quite likely that if the cards had "told true," +and if a boy were now lying in the cradle upstairs, that Mrs. Yellam +would have fought despair more valiantly. She might have persuaded +herself that Fancy would "pull through" and that Alfred would come back. + +At this moment she was at a low ebb mentally, although physically able +to confront any emergency. Despair destroys _morale_, as soldiers know, +and, paralysing action, heightens sensation. Mrs. Yellam's overwrought +brain refused to function normally. + +Solomon, she reflected, was not acting "queer." + +If Uncle were right----! If fool-wisdom could be trusted----! + +She asked Solomon a question. + +"How be you feeling, my dog?" + +Solomon left her tired mind in no doubt on that point. He wagged his +tail, wriggling convulsively, ready to bark with any encouragement. + +"Shush-h-h! Don't 'ee bark, till I gives leave. What do 'ee think about +Fancy? Be she so bad as Doctor makes out?" + +Solomon tried to lick her hand. + +"That bain't an answer, Solly." + +He wagged his tail. + +Astounding as it may seem, this comforted Mrs. Yellam. She went +upstairs, peeped into her former room, perceived that Fancy was asleep, +and said to the nurse: + +"She be in a be-utiful sleep. Let's see the baby." + +The two women looked at the baby, and agreed that it was a fine +specimen. Mrs. Yellam said impressively: + +"Pore dear soul! She thinks it a He. Maybe 'twill be best not to +undeceive her." + +"She'll find out, Mrs. Yellam." + +"Ah-h-h! A crool shock. I allows that it be my duty to prepare her." + +"She's low," said the nurse, in a professional tone. Mrs. Yellam knew +that the doctor, before leaving, had given the nurse instructions. The +nurse, however, made light of apprehension, saying incisively: + +"We'll pull her through, Mrs. Yellam. Nothing needed but constant care +for the first few days. Doctors always scare the gizzards out of us +because they think that we won't be careful unless they do." + +This was comforting. After more talk, Mrs. Yellam prevailed upon the +nurse to lie down. She proposed to sit by Fancy. The baby could be +trusted to be quiet, being a She, and, seemingly, blessed with a +pleasant temper. + +Fancy still slept. + +Mrs. Yellam took the chair by the bedside. If nothing but care and +vigilance were needed, they should be forthcoming. She vowed to herself +that she would fight, tooth and nail, for this life, neglect no +precaution, run no risk. Physically, she braced herself for the combat. +Long ago, she had fought for the life of a child--and won! Doctor and +mother had despaired. It was a case of pneumonia. Hour after hour Mrs. +Yellam had applied hot cloths to the child's breast. And she had willed +fiercely that the child should live. Her strong will _had_ saved it. +Everybody admitted that, even the doctor. + +Fancy slept for some hours. She awoke refreshed, free from pain, but +pitifully feeble. After obediently swallowing some food, she asked to +see the "boy." + +"All in good time," said Mrs. Yellam blandly. + +"But I may drop off to sleep again." + +"And a very good thing, too. The baby is asleep." + +"Has he blue eyes?" + +"Baby's eyes be allers blue at first." + +"Is he like Alfred?" + +"The living image. Now, don't 'ee talk." + +"If you bring him to me, I'll be ever so quiet." + +"I'll bring the child directly minute. 'Tis a lil' beauty, and a real +credit to 'ee. Alferd'll be tickled to death. Unbeknownst to yourself, +dear, you bore him what he wanted, and what I wanted. Now, I'll bring +her in." + +"Her----!" + +Fancy closed her eyes. Mrs. Yellam watched her anxiously. She saw two +tears trickle down the disappointed mother's cheeks. But she was +smiling, quick to see the joke against herself. + +She gave a little laugh, an attenuated sound, but the genuine article. + +"Let's see her, Mother." + +The Beauty was brought in. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +SUSPENSE + + +Sir Geoffrey returned home on Saturday, the 23rd, having achieved his +purpose. From The Hague, within twenty-four hours, discreet enquiries +would be made concerning Sergeant Yellam. But the answer might be +delayed a week. + +On Sunday and on Christmas Day Mrs. Yellam's pew was empty, but +everybody knew that she was in attendance upon Fancy. + +Hamlin preached what Uncle called a "very upliftin'" discourse, and +Uncle made it his business to drop down to the Yellam cottage during the +afternoon to learn how Fancy fared and to give his sister a synopsis of +the morning's sermon. By the luck of things, the nurse had just got up, +and was able to sit with Fancy, whilst Uncle talked with Susan in the +kitchen. + +"She be low, Habakkuk, but I be fighting for her. Oh, me! there's so +little of her. And no milk for the baby." + +"Lard preserve her dear life!" + +Susan frowned. + +"'Tis milk that be wanted." + +"You be right. Bottle-babies suffer crool wi' colic." + +"Not if I wash the bottles. Fancy have chosen the names." + +"Ah-h-h! Susan be one of 'em; I'll lay a crown-piece on that." + +"You'd lose your money. Lizzie Alfreda be the name." + +Uncle considered this, and commended the choice. Then he squared his +shoulders and inflated his big chest. + +"You missed a rare treat this marning, Susan." + +"Did I?" + +She spoke with indifference. Uncle believed in "gentling" refractory +horses and women. Conviction had descended upon him during the sermon +that he might be the Lord's instrument to lead Susan Yellam back to her +pew. + +"Pa'son preached about the Babe of Bethlehem, as was right and proper, +but I makes bold to say as he was thinking of 'ee, Susan, and of Lizzie +Alfreda, bless 'un." + +Mrs. Yellam felt strangely bored. But she knew that it was hopeless to +try to stop Uncle. What did it matter what any parson said? She was +wondering whether she could apply for milk to Mr. Fishpingle, at the +Home Farm. Village cows, grazing by the roadside, might pick up any +noxious weed. + +Uncle continued solemnly: + +"Me and Pa'son sees eye to eye about babes. And times, when he do drop +out o' sky and walks the green earth with mortial men, I feel sure that +fool-wisdom be his as 'tis mine. We sucked 'un in wi' mother's milk." + +Susan said abruptly: + +"I've a notion, Habakkuk, that the milk from they Freesian-Holsteen cows +bain't too rich for a baby's stomach." + +Uncle stared at her, anxiously. With difficulty, he assimilated her +thoughts, abandoning, for the moment, his own. + +"Quantity they gives, Susan, not quality. If I was lookin' after lil' +Lizzie Alfreda, dang me, if I wouldn't give 'un pure cream." + +"I'll be bound you would. Or old ale." + +She smiled grimly. Uncle really thought that the thaw had set in. He +continued joyously: + +"You listen to me, Susan; I've an upliftin' message for 'ee, and it +consarns what your thoughts be dwellin' on--the baby upstairs. Pa'son +made that plain this marning to us old sticks. The Babe of Bethlehem +brought good cheer and peace to a wicked world ten thousand years ago, +and the peace o' this world, seemin'ly, lies wi' the little 'uns. And we +be bound to take extry good care o' they. I tell 'ee, Pa'son talked so +warm about babes that I felt it in me to raise another family." + +"On pure cream?" asked Susan. But, at last, he had challenged her +attention. + +"Ah-h-h! You has your joke. But babes be goin' to be our salvation. 'Tis +a brave, true notion. What makes a pack o' hounds, Susan? The young +drafts. If they be lackin' in bone and blood, they turns out skirters, +and presently the pack be streamin' all over country, runnin' riot, +chasin' everything and catchin' nothing. And so, old girl, when you sets +your gert mind on what milk to give lil' Lizzie, you be sarvin' the Lard +and your country." + +Encouraged by Susan's softer expression, Uncle went on, embroidering his +theme with pardonable exaggeration, setting forth prodigious statistics. +Millions of babes died for lack of proper care, millions survived +infancy to become rickety, misformed, wretched children. And the war was +going to change all this. A nation bled white of its men must make the +care of children its first and paramount consideration. When he had +finished, Susan was so impressed that she said commandingly: + +"'Tis true. And your duty be plain, Habakkuk." + +"Meanin', Susan,----?" + +"You step up so brisk as may be to Home Farm. You see Mr. Fishpingle. +You tell 'un that my gran'child needs pure milk, and, if you don't get +it, your powers o' speech bain't what you crack 'em up to be." + +"Come wi' me, Susan. 'Twill blow some cobwebs out of 'ee." + +"No; I sets in this house till----" + +"Till when, you broody old hen?" + +"Till Fancy be better." + +After some protest, Uncle went his way alone, but he whistled as he +strode along, the jolly optimist. Next Sunday he would see Susan in her +pew. Soon there would be a christening, and word would come from Alfred. +Uncle now shared with the Squire the conviction that Alfred, probably +rushing ahead of his men, had been surrounded by Proosians and +overpowered. + +Upon the Tuesday, the Squire received a telegram from London, which he +shewed to his wife: + +"Yellam not a prisoner." + +The telegram was signed by one of the most honoured names in England. + +Lady Pomfret sighed. The Squire fussed and fumed, detesting mystery. + +"What does it mean, Mary? If he isn't a prisoner, where the dooce is he? +I have his Colonel's word for it that all the dead and wounded were +brought in. This telegram is equally reliable. I ask you, where is +Alfred Yellam?" + +"Shell-shock affects some of them very strangely." + +"What d'ye mean by that, my dear?" + +"You remember John Boyce?" + +The Squire was not likely to forget John Boyce, one of the quietest, +gentlest, and pluckiest of the many wounded men who had passed through +Pomfret Court. He had been a sufferer from shell-shock and gas, but +otherwise sound of limb. One morning, as the Squire was lathering his +face, word came to him that John Boyce had gone mad. Without pausing to +remove the lather, wearing pyjamas and slippers, the Squire had rushed +out of his dressing-room, downstairs, and into a corridor, where Boyce +stood at bay, with a valiant V. A. D. in front of him. He had escaped +from the ward, and happened to be close to Lionel's sitting-room. Into +this room the Squire led Boyce, trying to calm him down. The poor fellow +was possessed of suicidal mania. He had lost his chums and his health. +He demanded a rifle and permission to go into the garden and "end it." +It was piteous to hear him. As yet he had exhibited no violence. But in +Lionel's room, where swords were hanging on the wall, Boyce, with his +congested eyes on the naked steel, struggled desperately to get hold of +a sword. The Squire was a very powerful man, and Boyce undersized, but +insanity nearly mastered sanity. Suddenly, Boyce's body relaxed. All +violence went out of him. Soon he went back to the saloon, quite himself +again. Later, he was taken to Netley Hospital, where he recovered +completely. + +Lady Pomfret said slowly: + +"Just between ourselves, Geoffrey, is it possible that poor Alfred, +slightly wounded in the head, perhaps, is wandering somewhere in +France?" + +The Squire opened his mouth. + +"My dear Mary, are you hinting at--desertion?" + +"If he were not himself, like John Boyce?" + +The Squire had to admit that this was possible. Alfred must be +somewhere. Upon him would be his identification-disk. The number of this +had been sent to The Hague. + +"I must see Hamlin." + +He did. Hamlin told him that Fancy was fluttering between life and +death. Under the circumstances, it might be expedient to say nothing +about the telegram. To this the Squire warmly agreed. Nobody knew what +was in the telegram, except Lady Pomfret and themselves. Nobody would +know till Fancy had turned the corner, one way or t'other, poor little +dear! + +Within twenty-four hours all Nether-Applewhite knew. + +Somebody at the telegraph-office must have babbled. + +What followed may be imagined. Dick told Tom, and Tom told Harry, till +verisimilitude--to quote Gilbert--attached itself to an otherwise bald +and unconvincing narrative. Ultimately, the tale reached the ears of +Uncle. Alfred Yellam was a deserter--such a deduction from the telegram +might be considered crude, but on that very account likely to be gobbled +by gaffers--with a price set upon him, alive or dead. King Garge on his +throne knew it. + +Poor Uncle became distraught. If it were true, he could never carry a +high head again. Stoutly he refused to believe it, breathing strange +oaths and threatening violence to all and sundry. If such a wicked lie +reached Fancy's ears, it would kill her. He strode into the forest to +cool himself. Could he face his fellow-men in church? He beheld two +empty pews, and gnashed his teeth. + +Returning from the forest, somewhat easier in mind, he decided that +Susan must be warned. Very wisely he went to Hamlin first, who confirmed +the telegram, agreeing with Uncle that Mrs. Yellam should be told the +truth and what it had been twisted into by wagging tongues. Sensible of +Uncle's excitement and indignation, he said quietly: + +"You must rise above this gossip. It is not unnatural and not +ill-natured." + +"I begs your pardon, sir?" + +"Sir Geoffrey says that Alfred must be somewhere. For my part, I prefer +to think of him in the care, perhaps, of some friendly French peasant, +tending a man who may not remember his own name." + +"That be a mort o' comfort. Twice in my long life, I minds forgetting my +own name. I took a notion that I were the village idiot. Bad ale's +tricksy stuff. But desartion be a tarr'ble word." + +Hamlin clapped him hard on the shoulder. + +"Nobody who knows Alfred, or his mother, or you, would credit such a +monstrous perversion of the truth." + +Uncle, much heartened, betook himself to his sister's cottage, where the +surprise of his life awaited him. Susan literally jumped at this new +hypothesis. She burst into excited speech. + +"If Squire thinks that, 'tis so. Parson be a wonnerful man, but, as you +says, Habakkuk, sky-high above we. Squire be clay, a gert human bein' +wise wi' the wisdom that I understands. If he holds that my Alferd be +wanderin', pore dear, in France, 'tis so. I feels a different 'ooman +to-night. And Fancy be better, too, wi' some sart o' appetite for her +victuals. I be fightin' hard for her life, Habakkuk, and I believes +to-night that all will be well. 'Tis queer, Fancy keeps on a-sayin' to +me: 'Alferd'll come back.'" + +"Maybe he will, maybe he won't. Pa'son be prayin' in church for Alferd. +'Twould seem more respectful-like if you jined in wi' your loud voice." + +At once Mrs. Yellam's face hardened. + +"I bide at home till Alferd comes back." + +"Ah-h-h! You be set as never was on guidin' yourself, Susan. Now, what +about tellin' Fancy?" + +"I tells her the moment you be gone. 'Twill perk her up, better'n +ginger-brandy. And what do I keer what they says in village? Let 'un +talk. Squire be right. Alferd must be somewheres." + +Fancy was told within the hour. It will never be known whether the news +affected her for good or ill. Mrs. Yellam lacked imagination. Fancy, we +may believe, conjured up a lamentable picture of her Alfred, bereft of +his wits, wandering in a strange land, homeless and half-starving, at +the mercy of the elements in mid-winter. But she repeated the main +clause in her creed: + +"Alfred'll come back." + +Napoleon has assured us that repetition is the greatest figure of +rhetoric. The stone is worn away by the ever-falling drop of water. +Fancy's reiterated phrase fell persistently upon the ice in Susan +Yellam's heart and melted some of it, not all. + +Upon the Thursday morning the Squire received a letter from the Colonel +commanding Sergeant Yellam's battalion. He read it to Lady Pomfret. + + "My dear Sir: + + "With deep regret I have to inform you of the death of + Sergeant Alfred Yellam upon the night of the fifteenth of + December. All the facts have come to light, beyond dispute. + One of our wounded men has been lying unconscious in our + receiving hospital. Last night he became conscious. It seems + that Yellam was close to him when a shell from a trench + howitzer burst literally upon poor Yellam. According to the + evidence of the wounded man Yellam disappeared. That was the + last indelible impression of the only witness, who was + struck by a splinter from the same shell, and lost + consciousness immediately afterwards. + + "Sergeant Yellam had earned the affection and confidence of + all ranks. He was the type of man we value most, cool in + danger, modest at all times, cheerful, energetic and + capable. Peace be with him! + + "Yours faithfully, + "Courtenay Tring. + + "P. S.--The official communication will reach Sergeant + Yellam's widow in due course. This letter will precede it, + and I leave it to your discretion what to do." + +"What shall we do?" groaned the Squire. + +Before telling the news to anybody else, Sir Geoffrey walked to the +Vicarage. Hamlin read the letter. + +"Susan Yellam must be told," he said slowly. "She can intercept the +official communication. Such news would kill Fancy." + +"Who will tell Susan?" + +"I will take the letter to her." + +The Squire looked at his face. He wondered why Hamlin was so affected. +The Parson had sat down, as if he had received a personal blow. He +rested his austere face upon his hand, thinking not of the young wife, +so full of faith and courage, but of the old woman. Sir Geoffrey said +impulsively: + +"I wish that you could be spared this, Hamlin." + +"So do I." + +"You might let Jane Mucklow do it, or Uncle." + +"Susan Yellam is my parishioner. God's hand lies heavy on her--how heavy +I am unable to determine. I have never felt, Pomfret, so conscious of my +disabilities, of anæmic faith in such cases as this." + +The Squire stood confounded. + +"I wish I had your faith, Hamlin." + +"What is faith?" asked Hamlin, almost fiercely. "Is it merely a belief +that satisfies and helps oneself? The faith that burned in the Apostles +was more than that. It saved others. Virtue, at a touch, went out of the +faithful into the faithless. If I could touch this poor old woman----!" + +"You will," said the Squire, with assurance. + +"No. And that is why I wish that I could be spared another--failure." + +Soon afterwards he left the Vicarage, and, passing the church, paused a +moment. He went in and stood near the Font, staring at the Christmas +decorations and then at the Pomfret achievements emblazoned upon many of +the windows. The decorations served to remind the smallest child in his +congregation that another Child had been born into the world; the +achievements reminded the more sophisticated of the Pomfrets who had +died. The Child had been born to save others; the Pomfrets, many of them +worthy, God-fearing persons, had been mainly concerned in preserving +their own bodies and souls. + +"He saved others; Himself He cannot save." + +The wonderful line came into his mind, as his thoughts dwelt upon the +millions of seemingly righteous, respectable men and women bent on +saving their own souls, with but little regard for the souls of others. +The Salvation Army, so derided and condemned by Church and State when he +was a boy, had accomplished work which could not be ignored by priest +and prelate, work undertaken by labourers with no outshining +qualifications except faith in their ability to convince others, others +as humble in condition as themselves, who stood, for the most part, +beyond the pale of organised charity and richly-endowed religious +denominations. + +Did this war, in relation to such thoughts, assume a new significance? +Could regeneration, reconstruction come from below, from the masses, for +example, out of which General Booth had enlisted his soldiers? Would a +privilege, the noblest in the world, the sacrosanct prerogative to touch +others to finer issues, emanate from the unprivileged? Hamlin could not +answer the question. Or, as seemed more likely, would light shine from +above, from a purified aristocracy, purged of self-interest by +sacrifice, proud and eager to remove intolerable burdens from their less +fortunate fellow-men? Or, a happier hypothesis than either, would the +complex problem be solved by co-operation of masses and classes made one +by sorrow and suffering, born anew through blood and tears? It might +well be so. + +He left the church, and walked through the village. Much rain had +fallen. He noticed that the Avon was swollen, and ready to overflow its +banks. The wind blew cold upon his cheeks. The sun moved behind heavy +clouds ready to discharge vast accumulations of moisture. In short, a +raw, drizzling day, one of the last of an unhappy year. + +When Hamlin reached the cottage, a small girl, who came in during the +morning to do house-work, the scrubbing and cleaning so dear to Susan, +told the Parson that Mrs. Yellam was upstairs. She believed that Mrs. +Alfred had passed a nice night. The baby was doing "lovely." + +Susan appeared within a minute. A glance at Hamlin's face was enough for +her. In silence he took her hand and pressed it. + +"You has news of Alferd, sir?" + +Her voice was perfectly calm, calmer than his. + +"I have a letter from his Commanding Officer. Sit down, and read it." + +They were alone in the parlour. The antimacassars had been taken from +the big Bible and replaced. But no fire burned in the grate. To Hamlin +the room stood for all that he detested and assailed in English life and +character. In its humble way, it positively exuded pretension. The +carpet, a crudely-coloured body Brussels, the ornaments on the +mantel-shelf, the enlarged photographs, the horse-hair and mahogany +furniture, the prim bookcase, glazed and glaringly varnished, +imprisoning, under lock and key, books that nobody read or could read, +the mirror, the velveteen curtains with imitation lace under-curtains, +all had been bought to impress neighbours! It was pathetic to reflect +that Mrs. Yellam thought this hideous parlour a thing of beauty, whereas +her kitchen, a joy to behold, was merely regarded as utilitarian. And +yet the kitchen expressed sincerely all that was finest in Mrs. Yellam; +the parlour set forth blatantly the defects of her strong personality. + +She read the letter. + +"May I keep it, sir?" + +"Yes. Colonel Tring tells us, Mrs. Yellam, what we all know here. Alfred +was a son to be proud of." + +Her face remained impassive. She agreed respectfully that it would be +unwise to tell Fancy the truth till some measure of strength returned to +her. Hamlin had thought out a score of simple sentences. He said none of +them. In all his long life he had never realised so acutely the +illimitable space which may divide two human beings. At this moment +Parson and Parishioner stood far apart as the poles. He had intended to +allude to his own son. But she might fling in his teeth the cutting +reminder that he had others and a daughter. And in this cold, ugly room, +looking upon her frozen face, sympathy congealed at its source. He +withheld condolence, because it must hurt instead of help. In silence he +commended her soul to God, and went away. + +Mrs. Yellam unlocked her brass-cornered desk, and placed the letter +amongst other papers. Then, idly, she looked out of the window, which +faced the road and river. Before Hamlin came, she had stood at the +window upstairs, staring out upon the same familiar landscape. And she +had asked for a sign. She had looked at the heavy clouds even as Fancy +had looked at her cards. If light shone through them, she might believe +that for her spring and summer would bloom again. + +The sign had not been vouchsafed. + +Now, she stood at the window again, with features slightly relaxed. Such +an expression informed her face as may be seen, sometimes, on the faces +of steerage passengers upon trans-Atlantic boats taking leave for ever +of their native land. + +She turned from the window and went, heavily, into the kitchen. + +Had she waited a minute longer, she would have seen a sign. Through the +falling rain shone a strange light, palely amber. It illuminated the +dull water-meadows, evoking colour--iridescent, opaline tints--where +colour had ceased to be. It transmuted, magically, the sombre lead of +the swollen river into sparkling gold. And then, swiftly, the light +failed, the vision splendid vanished like a mirage, leaving behind a +desert. + +She went up stairs. Fancy said eagerly: + +"What does Mr. Hamlin say, Mother?" + +Mrs. Yellam hesitated, for one second only. She was unprepared for this +question; she had forgotten the small maid who had scuttled into the +room, saying that the Parson wanted to see Mrs. Yellam. With a +tremendous effort she lied superbly, this woman who loathed lies +because, in her masculine wisdom, she knew that lies made all ordinary +matters worse instead of better. + +She held up her finger. + +"You be much too curious, my girl. Mr. Hamlin dropped in, very +friendly-like, to ask me about the baby's christening. He be a oner for +gettin' the lambs into the fold so quick as may be." + +Fancy was quite satisfied. + +"I told 'un," continued Mrs. Yellam placidly, embroidering her theme +after a fashion which surely would have provoked envy and commendation +from Uncle, "that you'd be up and about in no time. We passed a few +cheerful remarks about this be-utiful weather, and then off he goes." + +"I'd like to wait for Alfred," murmured Fancy. "I've a notion that he'll +come before the New Year. If he ain't a prisoner, he will come. I wonder +if he knows how bad I want him." + +"Ah-h-h!" She paused, and then added sharply: "If wanting 'd bring +Alferd, he'd be here now. You eat more and think less, and then we'll +all be happy." + +With that Mrs. Yellam went abruptly out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE TRAVELLER RETURNS + + +Throughout the day, Mrs. Yellam hovered in and out of Fancy's room, +instinctively conscious that her patient was less strong, but +obstinately determined to fight that instinct. Outwardly, there was no +change. Fancy lay quiet, thinking and talking of Alfred. Lizzie Alfreda, +happily, evoked no maternal anxiety. Colic did not disturb the infantile +slumbers. She smiled ineffably at a bottle which contained +Frisian-Holstein milk drawn from prize-winners, and judiciously blended +with lime-water. On this mild tipple the child thrived amazingly. The +monthly nurse now retired to her own cottage at night, returning in the +morning. Susan Yellam slept upon a small bed made up in Fancy's room. +The doctor had expressed gratification at the increasing vitality of his +patient. And on the Wednesday, he said that he should not call again for +three days, unless he were sent for. He congratulated Susan upon her +devotion and skill with unmistakable sincerity. + +In the afternoon, the morning's drizzle became a downpour, and the Avon +escaped from its banks. If such rain continued, the Yellam cottage would +soon become an island. Susan was not disturbed by this. Nothing +mattered; nothing distracted her save the overpowering determination to +put Fancy on her feet again. Fancy would assume control of her child. +And then an old woman would sit down, fold her hands, and await the end. +Her premature conviction that Fancy would die and that she would live +had been modified on reflection. Susan held theories about life and +work. Before the war she had contended that folks were called when their +work was done. A few rotten apples might stick to the tree, but they +proved the general rule. Fruit fell to the ground when ripe. + +Satisfied in her mind that she would save Fancy by her own undivided +efforts, Mrs. Yellam contemplated with grim satisfaction her approaching +decease. She regarded herself as dead. She could survey with detachment +what was left of the Susan who rose early, waited diligently upon Fancy, +ate her meals (without any pleasure in them) and lay down to troubled +sleep. So chilled was she in mind, soul and body, that she noticed +without regret that Solomon, the faithful Solomon, too affectionate, too +demonstrative to a hard old flint, had transferred his allegiance to +Fancy. The dog lay at the foot of her bed night and day. Fancy talked to +him about Alfred, not about Lizzie Alfreda, because Solomon was jealous. +When Lizzie Alfreda came in, Solomon went for a run in the garden, and +heartened himself up by sniffing at various food-stuffs in a delightful +state of decomposition. But, oddly enough, he never wandered farther +afield. Within half an hour--Lizzie Alfreda's visits were drastically +curtailed--he would patter up the wooden stairs, scratch at the door, +whine, and be admitted. In a jiffy he was on the bed again, staring hard +at Fancy, as if he were a doctor contemplating a change of treatment. + +It had been agreed between Hamlin and Mrs. Yellam that Alfred's death +should be kept a secret from the villagers till the official +notification appeared in the newspapers. But when Uncle walked into the +cottage at tea-time, full of cheer despite the weather, and cracking +many small jokes about boats and swimmers, Mrs. Yellam simply could not +bear it. She said with startling abruptness: + +"Habakkuk, I'd break bad news to 'ee gently, if I could. But 'tisn't in +me to do it. Alferd be dead." + +Poor Uncle could not take it in. + +"But, Susan, Alferd be lost." + +"'Twas a shell. They couldn't find 'un, because there was nothing to +find." + +To her dismay, Uncle bowed his head upon his hands and wept like a +woman, shedding the copious tears that might have softened the hard eyes +steadily regarding him. He had loved Alfred. Susan knew this. He could +have better spared one of his own sons rather than this kindly, +affectionate nephew. She rose quietly and fetched the letter, giving him +time to recover his self-control. As she held out the letter, he raised +a face to hers so seamed by grief and pain that almost, almost her heart +melted within her. He read the letter and returned it. She put it away, +and took a chair upon the other side of the hearth. Uncle gazed about +him, noting, as men do upon such occasions, trifles that escape notice +in happier times. The coffin stools stood in their old place against the +wall. Uncle pointed at them, with trembling finger: + +"Fancy be dead, too." + +"No. She be more like herself to-day, although tarr'ble weak. They +stools be for me, Habakkuk. The sooner I goes the better." + +No inflection of resignation tempered this statement. Uncle, like +Hamlin, realised the futility of condolence, but silence imposed too +great a burden upon him. + +"You has the baby," he suggested. + +"She belongs to Fancy. I bain't afeard for they two." + +"Be you afeard for yourself, Susan?" + +She eyed him, sensible of an ever-increasing aversion to questions. Was +he thinking of punishment hereafter, of Hell's fires? + +"I bain't afeard o' Hell, and I bain't going to Heaven. For why? Heaven +and Hell be here on earth--and nowheres else." + +"Susan----!" + +"Ay, you be mazed, and no wonder. But I be come to that. I believed in +God A'mighty; I believed in Satan--for sixty long years. But such belief +be clean gone." + +"You be wrong, Susan. It ain't in me to argufy wi' 'ee, and, maybe, tear +both our hearts. But you be wrong. The swallers knows better'n that. Who +gave 'em their wisdom? I says no more but this: God sent His Own People +into the wilderness, where you be, and He brought 'em out." + +She shook her head. Uncle stood up. + +"'Tis rainin' crool hard, but I be off to the Forest. You won't want +Jane fussin' about 'ee? No. Or anybody else. I allers allowed as misery +loved company, but I be so miserable this day that I wants to be alone, +as you does." + +He kissed her cold cheeks and went out into the rain. + +She sat on for a minute, but the thought that worried her most was the +regret that he had not had his tea. The day was failing fast. In a +moment she would have to light a lamp and carry it upstairs. But +something remained to be done, a duty neglected since the morning. + +She went into the parlour, where the light was better, but not good; +good enough, she reflected, for her purpose. She lifted the Bible, +placed it upon the middle table, and opened it at the fly-leaf. Then she +took pen and ink from her desk and a clean sheet of blotting-paper. She +took out her spectacles, wiped them carefully, put them on, and sat +down. Against Alfred's name she made the necessary entry, "_Killed in +Action_," adding the date. Her hand never trembled; the writing was +characteristic; firm, bold, with the words neatly spaced, indicating +love of order. What she had willed herself to be, she was: a flint +embedded in sterile soil. She took off her spectacles and placed them in +their case, rising as she did so. Upon second thoughts, she decided to +let the ink dry upon the page. Suddenly, an irresistible impulse gripped +her. She glanced about her furtively, defiantly, as if challenging +unseen powers to thwart her determination. Hastily with fingers that +trembled this time, she snatched up the pen, dipped it into the ink, and +wrote against her name, Susan Yellam, these words: + +"_Died. December 28th, 1916._" + +As hastily, she placed the sheet of blotting-paper above the entries, +closed the Bible, and replaced it upon its table. + +Having shut up the parlour, she lit a lamp and carried it upstairs. The +baby was asleep. The nurse went home for the night. Then Mrs. Yellam +told Fancy, in a cheerful voice, that she would bring up tea in a few +minutes. + +"I thought I heard Uncle," said Fancy. + +"Yes; he looked in and made some stupid jokes, he did, about gettin' the +miller's boat." + +"Whatever for?" + +"Like as not we may be on an island afore nightfall." + +Fancy smiled. + +"I'd love to ride in miller's boat again. Alfred popped the question in +that. I did tease him first. 'Twas rare fun. I suppose Uncle was in fine +fettle, as usual?" + +"Yes; I never seen him so gay and joyous. Now, you lie so quiet as any +mouse whilst I gets tea." + +It might have been so delightful a meal. Outside, the wind roared and +the rain fell in sheets; inside, the logs crackled in the fireplace, the +warm curtains were drawn, and the lamp shone upon Mrs. Yellam's best +tea-things. Everything that could tempt a capricious appetite was there: +fragrant tea, cream, jam, honey, and little scones which warranted the +belief that Susan Yellam had secreted somewhere a bag of white flour. + +Susan had to sustain the burden of talk, and soared to heights. Fancy +must be entertained--the doctor's injunction. The old woman's amazing +will surmounted all obstacles. And who shall say that this +heart-breaking effort to beguile Fancy was not the most selfless +achievement of Mrs. Yellam's long life? She described passages in +Uncle's early career; anecdotes about Jane, anecdotes about her own +Lizzie and Alfred. As a boy, it seemed, Alfred had been very untidy. He +never kept his own little attic in order. Finally his mother said to +him: + +"Alferd, your room bain't a boy's room, nor a dog's kennel, nor a pig's +stye. 'Tis the habitation of a lunatic." + +Fancy smiled, because the mother must have spoken at the time, and again +now, with such inimitable seriousness. + +After tea, Fancy was commanded to rest. But before doing so, she caught +hold of her entertainer's hand, and said earnestly: + +"How good you are to me, Mother! How good and kind you always are to +sick folk. Such a wondersome woman! I hope my lil' maid will grow up +just like you." + +"If you talk such outrageous nonsense, I'll--I'll spank Lizzie. That'll +larn 'ee." + +But Fancy refused to be gagged. She went on, in her soft, feeble tones, +expatiating upon Mrs. Yellam's many virtues and excellencies. Time was +when Susan would have listened to this praise with smug complacency. +Fancy did but state the facts. And the mere recital of them exasperated +the listener beyond endurance. Steel striking flint--and praise had +become steel--provoked sparks. + +"I be real vexed wi' 'ee, Fancy." + +She bustled off with the tea-things, and remained absent so long that +Fancy began to fear that she had really offended her. Solomon, however, +reassured her on this point. They exchanged pleasant chat about Alfred. +Fancy felt jealous because Solomon would know when Alfred was coming at +least five minutes before she did. + +"You'll jump off the bed and bark." + +Solomon wagged his tail. + +"My! Won't he get wet if he comes to-night, Solly? Are you expecting him +to-night, you wise little dog?" + +Solomon put a cold nose into her hand. Mrs. Yellam's step was heard on +the stairs. Solomon retired to his end of the bed, well aware that +prolonged talk had been forbidden after tea. + +Mrs. Yellam, seeing that Fancy was awake, said impressively: + +"We be an island at this minute." + +"Oh, dear!" + +Mrs. Yellam assured her that it had often happened before. The cottage +itself stood high above the encroaching waters. At highest flood they +were not more than two feet deep. + +"Alfred'll get so wet." + +"Ay. I never thought o' that. I think, Fancy, that you did ought to put +this strange notion of Alferd's coming out of your dear lil' head. 'Tis +most onlikely. I dunno' how such a queer idea got into it." + +"Because he promised me that he would come." + +"But, Lard bless 'ee, he meant so be as he got leave. If 'tis true that +he be safe in France----" + +"I know he be safe." + +Mrs. Yellam glanced at her anxiously. Was the girl light-headed? She +must know that if Alfred were missing, owing--as Fancy had been +discreetly told--to some injury to his head which had caused him to +stray from the British lines, his first steps, when he became himself +again, would be directed back to his battalion. Wisely, she busied +herself about the room, entreating her patient to compose herself to +sleep. Presently Fancy dozed off, and Mrs. Yellam, softly approaching +the bed, examined her critically. She looked startlingly pretty. A faint +colour tinged lips and cheeks; her skin was translucently clear; her +hair, regularly brushed by Mrs. Yellam, lay thick and lustrous above her +forehead. + +It was almost impossible to behold her as a widow. + +For the first time since she had dedicated all her energies to fighting +for this frail life doubt assailed Mrs. Yellam. Fancy's hand lay upon +the white counterpane. Mrs. Yellam laid her hand beside it and compared +the two. + +All her experience of life as it is lived by people who cannot afford +servants, the endless bondage to manual labour, the washing, scrubbing +of floors and pots and pans, the cooking, the mending, rose up in her +ample mind, and filled it with poignant misgiving. Could this attenuated +hand, soft and weak as a child's, fend for Lizzie if--if Death came at +the despairing call of Susan Yellam? + +She clenched her own hand, nearly as large and powerful as a man's fist. +Fancy _must_ live to mother her child. She had no claim on Death, this +young, pretty creature, so easily pleased with life, so happy with +simple things, so contented with what she possessed, incapable of +envying those above her in station. Time would be kind to her. Time +would enshrine Alfred in her heart as the man who had taught her to +love, who had given her a fidelity and tenderness rarely found in +cottages or palaces. She might marry again. Why not? It says much for +Susan Yellam's essential wisdom that she could visualise such a +possibility, however remote, without a pang. + +A couple of hours passed. + +Lizzie Alfreda was fed and washed, with Fancy looking on, and replaced +in her cradle. Mrs. Yellam mended the fire, and went down to the kitchen +to prepare supper. Fancy seemed to be refreshed after her nap, but some +inflection of her voice warned an obstinate old woman that strength was +departing, very slowly, almost imperceptibly, as the hour-hand moves +round the dial. + +After supper she took her knitting and sat by the bed. To her great +relief, Fancy never mentioned Alfred. She prattled artlessly about +Lizzie. And then, gradually, during the intermittancies of silence, Mrs. +Yellam knew that the victory, for which she had fought so desperately, +which she had believed to be won, was unachievable. Afterwards, she was +unable to say when this conviction seized her. She admitted, however, to +Uncle that she knew because Fancy must have known. And Fancy believed +that she was cunningly hiding this knowledge. It leaked from her lips, +as she talked about Lizzie Alfreda to her grandmother, conjuring up a +picture of youth ministering to age, a picture so vivid, so true to +life, that something told Susan Yellam that it must come to pass. Fancy +was going. And when her own time came, she would lie in this bed, and +Alfred's child would close her eyes. Fancy foreshadowed no such scene. +But she spoke of Mrs. Yellam teaching Lizzie Alfreda how to use her +needle and instructing her in other domestic tasks. The thought of doing +this, of playing mother in her old age, softened indurated tissues, but +the original hardness remained. Susan turned desperately for comfort to +a flesh-and-blood grandchild; she turned as desperately from any faith +in a wise and merciful God. + +Outside, the rain went on falling; the wind wailed through the firs +where the ospreys found sanctuary on their flight south. Solomon slept +comfortably at the foot of the bed. Presently, it became time to prepare +Fancy for the night. Face and hands were washed with soap which Mrs. +Yellam had never applied to her weather-beaten countenance. Fancy's hair +was brushed and plaited in two coils. + +"Put on fresh ribands to-night, mother." + +"What an idea! You be so vain as any twoad." + +"Are toads vain? I'd like blue ribands." + +Grumblingly, Mrs. Yellam went to a drawer and produced new ribands. When +she had finished her patient's toilet, she said: + +"My! But you look pretty to-night." + +"Do I? I'm glad of that." + +Lizzie Alfreda woke up, clamouring for Frisian-Holstein milk. She lay +beside Fancy till the bottle was finished. Then she was taken back to +her cradle in the next room. + +It was fully time now for Mrs. Yellam to prepare for the night, but she +didn't do so. Fancy had closed her eyes. The faint colour had gone from +her cheeks. She had fallen asleep. Susan laid her finger upon the pulse; +she could just feel it beating, but not regularly. A wild impulse surged +through her to rush into the night, to send Uncle for the doctor. But +she dared not leave her patient. And, after all, there was so little +change; the child had talked too much after tea; strength would return +in the morning. + +She made up the fire again, slipped off her austere black gown, and put +on a dressing-gown, an ancient garment known to many mothers in +Nether-Applewhite. Draped in this, with list sandals on her feet, you +might have taken Susan for a Roman matron. Hamlin, who had seen her thus +arrayed, nearly addressed her as "Cornelia." + +An hour or more may have passed, during which time the gale began to +rage itself out. Lulls succeeded roaring blasts. Mrs. Yellam felt no +inclination to sleep; she became, instead, sensible of alertness, a +quickening of sensibilities and senses. Her hearing, still acute, became +painfully so. The patter of the rain upon the windows irritated her; +when it stopped, she missed it, and wanted it to begin again. + +And then a strange thing happened, strange only when taken in connection +with what followed. Solomon woke up, jumped lightly from the bed, and +went to the door. He had been let out, as usual, some two hours +previously. Mrs. Yellam held up a finger, enjoining silence. Solomon lay +down, head up, staring at the door, alert, as Mrs. Yellam was, +expectant, with ears cocked as if he heard something or somebody. + +"What is it, Solly?" she whispered. + +He paid no attention. + +If the cottage had not been surrounded by water, Mrs. Yellam might have +considered the probability of tramps trying to find shelter in the barn. +She would not have been alarmed. Her cottage was tramp-proof and at this +moment an island fortress. At the same time, she knew that her heart was +beating faster; an indefinable fear assailed her, something she had +never experienced before. + +She started violently. Fancy was sitting up in bed, her cheeks flushed +with colour, her eyes dancing, her arms outstretched. + +"I hear him," she exclaimed. "Don't you, Mother?" + +"Lie down, child; lie down." + +"It's Alfred. Let him in!" + +Mrs. Yellam did not move. Fancy, she decided, was light-headed. She +hesitated, fearing to excite her, willing to humour her, provided she +made no attempt to leave her bed. + +"He's coming upstairs." + +She no longer looked at Mrs. Yellam; her eyes remained upon the bedroom +door. So strange a light shone in those eyes that Mrs. Yellam began to +question her own sanity, not Fancy's. + +Solomon never moved. + +The suspense became unendurable. But Mrs. Yellam remained in her chair, +ready to spring to her feet, if Fancy left the bed. + +Solomon got up, whined, turned from the door, and jumped into Mrs. +Yellam's lap. He was trembling. At the same moment she heard Fancy's +voice, strong and exultant: + +"Alfie!--I knew you'd come." + +Her speech became broken and faltering: + +"I did want you, as never was. It was awful going through it without +you. And it's a She--what you wanted. How lovely you look! Kiss me +again! Hold me tight! If you don't, I--I may slip off...." + +Her voice died away in sighs; her eyes closed; her head fell back upon +her pillow. Mrs. Yellam put Solomon down, rose to her feet, and hurried +to the bed. In an instant her strong arms were encircling the wasted +body, clutching it to her, trying to hold Fancy back, but knowing that +she was, as she said, slipping away. Fancy spoke again, very faintly: + +"However did you manage to come back?" + +Mrs. Yellam listened, waiting, hoping, and almost believing, that an +answer would be forthcoming. Her son, according to Colonel Tring, had +been killed by a shell--killed and obliterated. She had known that death +must have been painless. + +Fancy answered for Alfred, in a whisper that seemed to come from an +immense distance. + +"I hear you, plain as plain. What? A--_shell_--! Did it hurt, Alfie? It +didn't. But because of that you were able to come. You had to come for +both our sakes--Mother's and mine. And such a night! You ain't a bit +wet, neither.... Afraid, Alfie...? With you holding me tight as +tight.... Oh, no." + +Susan Yellam heard a trickle of laughter. After that Fancy sighed twice, +and then her small body relaxed. + +She had slipped away. + + * * * * * + +Dawn was stealing into the kitchen when Mrs. Yellam went downstairs. + +She was still curiously alert in mind, although very weary in body. +After she had closed Fancy's eyes and performed the last services, she +sat down by the bed to think. Dying people, as she knew, might entertain +hallucinations. And Fancy, in health, exercised a lively imagination. +That she should believe that she saw Alfred, so long and ardently +desired, just before breath left her body, was not remarkable in itself. + +But, speaking for Alfred, repeating, as it were, information, Fancy had +used the word "shell." + +Was this mere coincidence? + +Again, according to Alfred--admitting that he had come back--his return +in the spirit was due not only to solicitude for his wife, but for his +mother. She heard Fancy's feeble voice--"for both our sakes." And she +had spoken of his appearance as "lovely." + +Susan Yellam's strong brain considered these three facts together with +the uncanny behaviour of Solomon, now peacefully asleep in the next +room. As yet, she had shed no tears, but, slowly, the ice about her +heart was melting. + +Her thoughts turned to the form beneath the spotless sheet. It seemed so +cruel that Fancy should be dead. Why was life given to young things and +then taken away? But this gentle creature had not lived in vain. She had +accomplished a task that had baffled Jane Mucklow and herself. Fancy had +drawn Habakkuk from the ale-house, beguiled him from his cronies with +soft words and smiles, made a better man of him. She had made a better +man of Alfred. + +She thought of Alfred and Fancy together. + +Almost she believed that Alfred had come back. + +Hovering upon the brink of this conviction, she heard a wail from the +baby, the pitiful appeal of helplessness to strength. She hurried into +the next room, and took the child into her arms, clutching it to her +bosom. + +Lizzie Alfreda was hers, her very own. Till that moment she had regarded +the tiny creature, not with indifference, but apathetically, a +grandchild by whom she would do her duty. And we know that she had +forced herself to believe that Fancy would live to fend for her own +child. Could so frail a woman have done so properly? If her wish had +been granted, if Death had taken Susan instead of Fancy Yellam, and if +Fancy had risen from her bed an enfeebled, anæmic woman, subject to all +those maladies which wait on physical debility, could she have "fended" +for Lizzie Alfreda? + +The ice was melting fast now. + +She fed Lizzie Alfreda and replaced her in the cradle, but the baby +still wailed a little, staring at Susan Yellam. She took her up--an +action against her principles--soothed her, and immediately the child +stopped crying. Susan crooned to her a lullaby which she thought she had +forgotten, which had served, long ago, when her own Lizzie was wakeful. +And the simple, droning song brought back, vividly, past pleasures. Age +dropped from her; she became for a moment a young mother anticipating +joyously all that "fending" implied. Soon the child slept. + +And then the tears came, washing away ice, doubt, despair, cleansing +anew a humble and contrite heart. + +From that undiscovered country, whose existence she had obstinately +denied, a traveller had returned. + +After lighting the kitchen fire, Susan Yellam entered the parlour. She +pulled up the blinds and drew the curtains. From her desk, she took a +sharp penknife, and tried its edge upon her thumb. Then, reluctantly, as +if ashamed, she opened the Bible, intending to erase carefully the last +presumptuous entry. + +She glanced at it, and a sharp exclamation escaped her trembling lips. +She put on her spectacles and stared, open-mouthed, at the page in front +of her. "Died, December 28th, 1916," was written not, as she had +supposed, against the name of Susan Yellam, but against the name of +Fancy Yellam. + +And then she remembered that, in her blind haste to record her own +death, she had forgotten to put on her spectacles. + +And the light, at the time, was failing. + +The Light was not failing now. + +She fell upon her knees, bowing her head over the Book. + +Next Sunday she was in her pew. + + +THE END + + + + +THE NOVELS OF +MARY ROBERTS RINEHART + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +"K." Illustrated. + +K. LeMoyne, famous surgeon, drops out of the world that has known him, +and goes to live in a little town where beautiful Sidney Page lives. She +is in training to become a nurse. The joys and troubles of their young +love are told with that keen and sympathetic appreciation which has made +the author famous. + + +THE MAN IN LOWER TEN. + +Illustrated by Howard Chandler Christy. + +An absorbing detective story woven around the mysterious death of the +"Man in Lower Ten." The strongest elements of Mrs. Rinehart's success +are found in this book. + + +WHEN A MAN MARRIES. + +Illustrated by Harrison Fisher and Mayo Bunker. + +A young artist, whose wife had recently divorced him, finds that his +aunt is soon to visit him. The aunt, who contributes to the family +income and who has never seen the wife, knows nothing of the domestic +upheaval. How the young man met the situation is humorously and most +entertainingly told. + + +THE CIRCULAR STAIRCASE. Illus. by Lester Ralph. + +The summer occupants of "Sunnyside" find the dead body of Arnold +Armstrong, the son of the owner, on the circular staircase. Following +the murder a bank failure is announced. Around these two events is woven +a plot of absorbing interest. + + +THE STREET OF SEVEN STARS. + +Illustrated (Photo Play Edition.) + +Harmony Wells, studying in Vienna to be a great violinist, suddenly +realizes that her money is almost gone. She meets a young ambitious +doctor who offers her chivalry and sympathy, and together with +world-worn Dr. Anna and Jimmie, the waif, they share their love and +slender means. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + +BOOTH TARKINGTON'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +SEVENTEEN. Illustrated by Arthur William Brown. + +No one but the creator of Penrod could have portrayed the immortal young +people of this story. Its humor is irresistible and reminiscent of the +time when the reader was Seventeen. + + +PENROD. Illustrated by Gordon Grant. + +This is a picture of a boy's heart, full of the lovable, humorous, +tragic things which are locked secrets to most older folks. It is a +finished, exquisite work. + + +PENROD AND SAM. Illustrated by Worth Brehm. + +Like "Penrod" and "Seventeen," this book contains some remarkable phases +of real boyhood and some of the best stories of juvenile prankishness +that have ever been written. + + +THE TURMOIL. Illustrated by C. E. Chambers. + +Bibbs Sheridan is a dreamy, imaginative youth, who revolts against his +father's plans for him to be a servitor of big business. The love of a +fine girl turns Bibb's life from failure to success. + + +THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA. Frontispiece. + +A story of love and politics,--more especially a picture of a country +editor's life in Indiana, but the charm of the book lies in the love +interest. + + +THE FLIRT. Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood. + +The "Flirt," the younger of two sisters, breaks one girl's engagement, +drives one man to suicide, causes the murder of another, leads another +to lose his fortune, and in the end marries a stupid and unpromising +suitor, leaving the really worthy one to marry her sister. + +_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + +KATHLEEN NORRIS' STORIES + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +MOTHER. Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +This book has a fairy-story touch, counterbalanced by the sturdy reality +of struggle, sacrifice, and resulting peace and power of a mother's +experiences. + + +SATURDAY'S CHILD. + +Frontispiece by F. Graham Cootes. + +Out on the Pacific coast a normal girl, obscure and lovely, makes a +quest for happiness. She passes through three stages--poverty, wealth +and service--and works out a creditable salvation. + + +THE RICH MRS. BURGOYNE. + +Illustrated by Lucius H. Hitchcock. + +The story of a sensible woman who keeps within her means, refuses to be +swamped by social engagements, lives a normal human life of varied +interests, and has her own romance. + + +THE STORY OF JULIA PAGE. + +Frontispiece by Allan Gilbert. + +How Julia Page, reared in rather unpromising surroundings, lifted +herself through sheer determination to a higher plane of life. + + +THE HEART OF RACHAEL. + +Frontispiece by Charles E. Chambers. + +Rachael is called upon to solve many problems, and in working out these, +there is shown the beauty and strength of soul of one of fiction's most +appealing characters. + +_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + +SEWELL FORD'S STORIES + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +SHORTY McCABE. Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson. + +A very humorous story. The hero, an independent and vigorous thinker, +sees life, and tells about it in a very unconventional way. + + +SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY. + +Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson. + +Twenty skits, presenting people with their foibles. Sympathy with human +nature and an abounding sense of humor are the requisites for +"side-stepping with Shorty." + + +SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB. + +Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson. + +Shorty McCabe reappears with his figures of speech revamped right up to +the minute. He aids in the right distribution of a "conscience fund," +and gives joy to all concerned. + + +SHORTY McCABE'S ODD NUMBERS. + +Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson. + +These further chronicles of Shorty McCabe tell of his studio for +physical culture, and of his experiences both on the East side and at +swell yachting parties. + + +TORCHY. Illus. by Geo. Biehm and Jas. Montgomery Flagg. + +A red-headed office boy, overflowing with wit and wisdom peculiar to the +youths reared on the sidewalks of New York, tells the story of his +experiences. + + +TRYING OUT TORCHY. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln. + +Torchy is just as deliriously funny in these stories as he was in the +previous book. + + +ON WITH TORCHY. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln. + +Torchy falls desperately in love with "the only girl that ever was," but +that young society woman's aunt tries to keep the young people apart, +which brings about many hilariously funny situations. + + +TORCHY, PRIVATE SEC. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln. + +Torchy rises from the position of office boy to that of secretary for +the Corrugated Iron Company. The story is full of humor and infectious +American slang. + + +WILT THOU TORCHY. Illus. by F. Snapp and A. W. Brown. + +Torchy goes on a treasure search expedition to the Florida West Coast, +in company with a group of friends of the Corrugated Trust and with his +friend's aunt, on which trip Torchy wins the aunt's permission to place +an engagement ring on Vee's finger. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + +THE NOVELS OF WINSTON CHURCHILL + + +THE INSIDE OF THE CUP. Illustrated by Howard Giles. + +The Reverend John Hodder is called to a fashionable church in a +middle-western city. He knows little of modern problems and in his +theology is as orthodox as the rich men who control his church could +desire. But the facts of modern life are thrust upon him; an awakening +follows and in the end he works out a solution. + + +A FAR COUNTRY. Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer. + +This novel is concerned with big problems of the day. As _The Inside of +the Cup_ gets down to the essentials in its discussion of religion, so +_A Far Country_ deals in a story that is intense and dramatic, with +other vital issues confronting the twentieth century. + + +A MODERN CHRONICLE. Illustrated by J. H. Gardner Soper. + +This, Mr. Churchill's first great presentation of the Eternal Feminine, +is throughout a profound study of a fascinating young American woman. It +is frankly a modern love story. + + +MR. CREWE'S CAREER. Illus. by A. I. Keller and Kinneys. + +A new England state is under the political domination of a railway and +Mr. Crewe, a millionaire, seizes a moment when the cause of the people +is being espoused by an ardent young attorney, to further his own +interest in a political way. The daughter of the railway president plays +no small part in the situation. + + +THE CROSSING. Illustrated by S. Adamson and L. Baylis. + +Describing the battle of Fort Moultrie, the blazing of the Kentucky +wilderness, the expedition of Clark and his handful of followers in +Illinois, the beginning of civilization along the Ohio and Mississippi, +and the treasonable schemes against Washington. + + +CONISTON. Illustrated by Florence Scovel Shinn. + +A deft blending of love and politics. A New Englander is the hero, a +crude man who rose to political prominence by his own powers, and then +surrendered all for the love of a woman. + + +THE CELEBRITY. An episode. + +An inimitable bit of comedy describing an interchange of personalities +between a celebrated author and a bicycle salesman. It is the purest, +keenest fun--and is American to the core. + + +THE CRISIS. Illustrated with scenes from the Photo-Play. + +A book that presents the great crisis in our national life with splendid +power and with a sympathy, a sincerity, and a patriotism that are +inspiring. + + +RICHARD CARVEL. Illustrated by Malcolm Frazer. + +An historical novel which gives a real and vivid picture of Colonial +times, and is good, clean, spirited reading in all its phases and +interesting throughout. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + +JACK LONDON'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +JOHN BARLEYCORN. Illustrated by H. T. Dunn. + +This remarkable book is a record of the author's own amazing +experiences. This big, brawny world rover, who has been acquainted with +alcohol from boyhood, comes out boldly against John Barleycorn. It is a +string of exciting adventures, yet it forcefully conveys an unforgetable +idea and makes a typical Jack London book. + + +THE VALLEY OF THE MOON. Frontispiece by George Harper. + +The story opens in the city slums where Billy Roberts, teamster and +ex-prize fighter, and Saxon Brown, laundry worker, meet and love and +marry. They tramp from one end of California to the other, and in the +Valley of the Moon find the farm paradise that is to be their salvation. + + +BURNING DAYLIGHT. Four illustrations. + +The story of an adventurer who went to Alaska and laid the foundations +of his fortune before the gold hunters arrived. Bringing his fortunes to +the States he is cheated out of it by a crowd of money kings, and +recovers it only at the muzzle of his gun. He then starts out as a +merciless exploiter on his own account. Finally he takes to drinking and +becomes a picture of degeneration. About this time he falls in love with +his stenographer and wins her heart but not her hand and then--but read +the story! + + +A SON OF THE SUN. Illustrated by A. O. Fischer and C. W. Ashley. + +David Grief was once a light-haired, blue-eyed youth who came from +England to the South Seas in search of adventure. Tanned like a native +and as lithe as a tiger, he became a real son of the sun. The life +appealed to him and he remained and became very wealthy. + + +THE CALL OF THE WILD. Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin and Charles +Livingston Bull. Decorations by Charles E. Hooper. + +A book of dog adventures as exciting as any man's exploits could be. +Here is excitement to stir the blood and here is picturesque color to +transport the reader to primitive scenes. + + +THE SEA WOLF. Illustrated by W. J. Aylward. + +Told by a man whom Fate suddenly swings from his fastidious life into +the power of the brutal captain of a sealing schooner. A novel of +adventure warmed by a beautiful love episode that every reader will hail +with delight. + + +WHITE FANG. Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull. + +"White Fang" is part dog, part wolf and all brute, living in the frozen +north; he gradually comes under the spell of man's companionship, and +surrenders all at the last in a fight with a bull dog. Thereafter he is +man's loving slave. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + +NOVELS OF FRONTIER LIFE BY + +WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE + +HANDSOMELY BOUND IN CLOTH. ILLUSTRATED. + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list. + + +MAVERICKS. + +A tale of the western frontier, where the "rustler," whose depredations +are so keenly resented by the early settlers of the range, abounds. One +of the sweetest love stories ever told. + + +A TEXAS RANGER. + +How a member of the most dauntless border police force carried law into +the mesquit, saved the life of an innocent man after a series of +thrilling adventures, followed a fugitive to Wyoming, and then passed +through deadly peril to ultimate happiness. + + +WYOMING. + +In this vivid story of the outdoor West the author has captured the +breezy charm of "cattleland," and brings out the turbid life of the +frontier with all its engaging dash and vigor. + + +RIDGWAY OF MONTANA. + +The scene is laid in the mining centers of Montana, where politics and +mining industries are the religion of the country. The political +contest, the love scene, and the fine character drawing give this story +great strength and charm. + + +BUCKY O'CONNOR. + +Every chapter teems with wholesome, stirring adventures, replete with +the dashing spirit of the border, told with dramatic dash and absorbing +fascination of style and plot. + + +CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT. + +A story of Arizona; of swift-riding men and daring outlaws; of a bitter +feud between cattle-men and sheep-herders. The heroine is a most unusual +woman and her love story reaches a culmination that is fittingly +characteristic of the great free West. + + +BRAND BLOTTERS. + +A story of the Cattle Range. This story brings out the turbid life of +the frontier, with all its engaging dash and vigor, with a charming love +interest running through its 320 pages. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + +ZANE GREY'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list + + +THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS + +A New York society girl buys a ranch which becomes the center of +frontier warfare. Her loyal superintendent rescues her when she is +captured by bandits. A surprising climax brings the story to a +delightful close. + + +THE RAINBOW TRAIL + +The story of a young clergyman who becomes a wanderer in the great +western uplands--until at last love and faith awake. + + +DESERT GOLD + +The story describes the recent uprising along the border, and ends with +the finding of the gold which two prospectors had willed to the girl who +is the story's heroine. + + +RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE + +A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when Mormon +authority ruled. The prosecution of Jane Withersteen is the theme of the +story. + + +THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN + +This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo Jones, +known as the preserver of the American bison, across the Arizona desert +and of a hunt in "that wonderful country of deep canons and giant +pines." + + +THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT + +A lovely girl, who has been reared among Mormons, learns to love a young +New Englander. The Mormon religion, however, demands that the girl shall +become the second wife of one of the Mormons--Well, that's the problem +of this great story. + + +THE SHORT STOP + +The young hero, tiring of his factory grind, starts out to win fame and +fortune as a professional ball player. His hard knocks at the start are +followed by such success as clean sportsmanship, courage and honesty +ought to win. + + +BETTY ZANE + +This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beautiful +young sister of old Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers. + + +THE LONE STAR RANGER + +After killing a man in self defense, Buck Duane becomes an outlaw along +the Texas border. In a camp on the Mexican side of the river, he finds a +young girl held prisoner, and in attempting to rescue her, brings down +upon himself the wrath of her captors and henceforth is hunted on one +side by honest men, on the other by outlaws. + + +THE BORDER LEGION + +Joan Randle, in a spirit of anger, sent Jim Cleve out to a lawless +Western mining camp, to prove his mettle. Then realizing that she loved +him--she followed him out. On her way, she is captured by a bandit band, +and trouble begins when she shoots Kells, the leader--and nurses him to +health again. Here enters another romance--when Joan, disguised as an +outlaw, observes Jim, in the throes of dissipation. A gold strike, a +thrilling robbery--gambling and gun play carry you along breathlessly. + + +THE LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS, By Helen Cody Wetmore and Zane Grey + +The life story of Colonel William F. Cody, "Buffalo Bill," as told by +his sister and Zane Grey. It begins with his boyhood in Iowa and his +first encounter with an Indian. We see "Bill" as a pony express rider, +then near Fort Sumter as Chief of the Scouts, and later engaged in the +most dangerous Indian campaigns. There is also a very interesting +account of the travels of "The Wild West" Show. No character in public +life makes a stronger appeal to the imagination of America than "Buffalo +Bill," whose daring and bravery made him famous. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + +STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY + +GENE STRATTON-PORTER + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +MICHAEL O'HALLORAN. Illustrated by Frances Rogers. + +Michael is a quick-witted little Irish newsboy, living in Northern +Indiana. He adopts a deserted little girl, a cripple. He also assumes +the responsibility of leading the entire rural community upward and +onward. + + +LADDIE. Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer. + +This is a bright, cheery tale with the scenes laid in Indiana. The story +is told by Little Sister, the youngest member of a large family, but it +is concerned not so much with childish doings as with the love affairs +of older members of the family. Chief among them is that of Laddie and +the Princess, an English girl who has come to live in the neighborhood +and about whose family there hangs a mystery. + + +THE HARVESTER. Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs. + +"The Harvester," is a man of the woods and fields, and if the book had +nothing in it but the splendid figure of this man it would be notable. +But when the Girl comes to his "Medicine Woods," there begins a romance +of the rarest idyllic quality. + + +FRECKLES. Illustrated. + +Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in which he +takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the great +Limberlost Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets him succumbs to +the charm of his engaging personality; and his love-story with "The +Angel" are full of real sentiment. + + +A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST. Illustrated. + +The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant, loveable type of +the self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and kindness +towards all things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the sheer beauty of +her soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from barren and +unpromising surroundings those rewards of high courage. + + +AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW. Illustrations in colors. + +The scene of this charming love story is laid in Central Indiana. The +story is one of devoted friendship, and tender self-sacrificing love. +The novel is brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature, and +its pathos and tender sentiment will endear it to all. + + +THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL. Profusely illustrated. + +A love idea of the Cardinal bird and his mate, told with delicacy and +humor. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + +MYRTLE REED'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list. + + +LAVENDER AND OLD LACE. + +A charming story of a quaint corner of New England, where bygone romance +finds a modern parallel. The story centers round the coming of love to +the young people on the staff of a newspaper--and it is one of the +prettiest, sweetest and quaintest of old-fashioned love stories. + + +MASTER OF THE VINEYARD. + +A pathetic love story of a young girl, Rosemary. The teacher of the +country school, who is also master of the vineyard, comes to know her +through her desire for books. She is happy in his love till another +woman comes into his life. But happiness and emancipation from her many +trials come to Rosemary at last. The book has a touch of humor and +pathos that will appeal to every reader. + + +OLD ROSE AND SILVER. + +A love story,--sentimental and humorous,--with the plot subordinate to +the character delineation of its quaint people and to the exquisite +descriptions of picturesque spots and of lovely, old, rare treasures. + + +A WEAVER OF DREAMS. + +This story tells of the love-affairs of three young people, with an +old-fashioned romance in the background. A tiny dog plays an important +role in serving as a foil for the heroine's talking ingeniousness. There +is poetry, as well as tenderness and charm, in this tale of a weaver of +dreams. + + +A SPINNER IN THE SUN. + +An old-fashioned love story, of a veiled lady who lives in solitude and +whose features her neighbors have never seen. There is a mystery at the +heart of the book that throws over it the glamour of romance. + + +THE MASTER'S VIOLIN. + +A love story in a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old German virtuoso +consents to take for his pupil a handsome youth who proves to have an +aptitude for technique, but not the soul of an artist. The youth cannot +express the love, the passion and the tragedies of life as can the +master. But a girl comes into his life, and through his passionate love +for her, he learns the lessons that life has to give--and his soul +awakes. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's note: + + Punctuation has been made consistent. + + Dialect, alternate and obsolete spellings were not changed. + Words ending in '-ise' and '-sing' instead of the more usual '-ize' + and '-zing' were not changed, e.g. apologise instead of apologize. + + Changes made for consistency within the text: + deleted hyphen in 'offertory-plate' + ... copper to the offertory plate.... + deleted hyphen in 'parlour-maid' + ... Mr. Hamlin's new parlourmaid ... + ... from the new parlourmaid ... + 'pollygammy' to 'polligammy' + ... that pretty pass, polligammy.... + added hyphen to ale-house + ... seen some nice lil' ale-house ... + ... takes a man to the ale-house?... + ... drive a man to the ale-house ... + added hyphen to back yard + ... out o' sight in my back-yard." + deleted hyphen in 'country-side' + ... William Saint scoured the countryside ... + + Other changes to text: + 'monagenarian' to 'nonagenarian' ... The nonagenarian displayed ... + 'omniverously' to 'omnivorously' ... the Parson read omnivorously... + 'Nomconformists' to 'Nonconformists' ... the Nonconformists gird ... + 'pallour' to 'pallor' ... seeming pallor in the ill-lit room ... + 'mind' to 'mine' ... I wouldn't let him black mine.... + 'exigesis' to 'exegesis' ... merely Biblical exegesis ... + 'fine' to 'time' ...In time, if Alfred donned khaki ... + 'sentenously' to 'sententiously' ... remarked sententiously that ... + 'immeasureably' to 'immeasurably' ... immeasurably multiplied ... + 'telgram' to 'telegram' ... what was in the telegram,... + deleted hyphen from 'middle-class' ... for middle class trippers ... + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUL OF SUSAN YELLAM*** + + +******* This file should be named 36428-8.txt or 36428-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/4/2/36428 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Soul of Susan Yellam</p> +<p>Author: Horace Annesley Vachell</p> +<p>Release Date: June 14, 2011 [eBook #36428]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUL OF SUSAN YELLAM***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Carol Brown,<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>THE SOUL OF<br /> +SUSAN YELLAM</h1> + +<h5>BY</h5> +<h2>HORACE ANNESLEY VACHELL</h2> + +<h5>AUTHOR OF<br /> +SOME HAPPENINGS, QUINNEYS,<br /> +BLINDS DOWN, LOOT, <span class="smcap">Etc.</span></h5> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/logo.png" + width="158" height="127" alt="Illustration: printer's logo" + title="printer's logo" /> +</div> + +<h4>NEW YORK</h4> +<h3>GROSSET & DUNLAP</h3> +<h4>PUBLISHERS</h4> + +<p class="p4 center"><i>Copyright, 1918,<br /> +By George H. Doran Company</i></p> + +<p class="p4 center"><i>Printed in the United States of America</i></p> + +<p class="p4"> </p> +<h4>TO THE MEMORY OF<br /> +MY SON</h4> +<h3>RICHARD TANFIELD VACHELL</h3> +<h4>CAPTAIN, FIFTH FUSILIERS</h4> + +<p class="p4"> </p> + +<div> <table class="bold" border="0" cellpadding="5" +cellspacing="10" summary="Table of Contents"> + +<tr><td> </td><th>CONTENTS</th></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><span +class="smcap">chapter</span></td><td></td><td align="right"><span +class="smcap">page</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Ch1">I</a></td><td>MOTHER AND +SON</td><td align="right">11</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Ch2">II</a></td><td>FANCY +BROOMFIELD</td><td align="right">27</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Ch3">III</a></td><td>INTRODUCING MRS. +MUCKLOW</td><td align="right">42</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Ch4">IV</a></td><td>LE PAYS DU +TENDRE</td><td align="right">57</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Ch5">V</a></td><td>UNCLE</td><td +align="right">70</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Ch6">VI</a></td><td>FIRST +IMPRESSIONS</td><td align="right">86</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Ch7">VII</a></td><td>SECOND +IMPRESSIONS</td><td align="right">101</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Ch8">VIII</a></td><td>RECRUITING</td><td +align="right">116</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Ch9">IX</a></td><td>PARSON'S +METHODS</td><td align="right">130</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Ch10">X</a></td><td>FANCY'S +ORDEAL</td><td align="right">144</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Ch11">XI</a></td><td>THE UNEXPECTED +HAPPENS</td><td align="right">160</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Ch12">XII</a></td><td>THE EMPTY +PEW</td><td align="right">174</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Ch13">XIII</a></td><td>FANCY CONSULTS +THE CARDS</td><td align="right">190</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Ch14">XIV</a></td><td>HYMENEAL</td><td +align="right">203</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Ch15">XV</a></td><td>LEANNESS OF +SOUL</td><td align="right">217</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Ch16">XVI</a></td><td>SAINT +WILLUM</td><td align="right">234</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a +href="#Ch17">XVII</a></td><td>FOOL-WISDOM</td><td +align="right">248</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Ch18">XVIII</a></td><td>MISSING!</td><td +align="right">263</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Ch19">XIX</a></td><td>SUSPENSE</td><td +align="right">279</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Ch20">XX</a></td><td>THE TRAVELLER +RETURNS</td><td align="right">294</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p class="p4"> </p> + +<h1>THE SOUL OF SUSAN YELLAM</h1> + +<p class="p4"> </p> + +<h1>THE SOUL OF SUSAN YELLAM</h1> + +<h3><a name="Ch1"></a>CHAPTER I</h3> + +<h4>MOTHER AND SON</h4> + +<p class="p2">The village church at Nether-Applewhite has been described +as an interesting chapter in ecclesiastical architecture. It stands a +little apart from the cottages upon a hill which presents something of +the appearance of a tumulus. Part of the church is Norman, but to the +uninstructed the outside has been mellowed by time and weather into a +charming homogeneity. It was embellished early in the eighteenth century +by the addition of a brick tower. The inside is likely to challenge even +the uncritical eye. The transept is as long as the nave, and two large +galleries arrest attention in the west end. Overlooking the chancel is +the Squire's pew, a sort of royal opera-box, provided with chairs, a +table, and a fireplace, not to mention a private entrance. Opposite to +this, across the chancel, stands a three-decker pulpit of +seventeenth-century woodwork, with a fine hexagonal canopy. On the north +side of the steps to the chancel is a mutilated fifteenth-century +screen.</p> + +<p>Squire and parson can see every member of the congregation.</p> + +<p>There are large pews in nave and transept occupied by the gentry and +farmers, and many small pews which—although the seats in the +church are spoken of as "free"—have been used habitually by +certain cottagers. One of these pews in the nave was known as the Yellam +pew. Sunday after Sunday, rain or shine, Susan Yellam sat bolt upright +in her pew. Her son, Alfred, sat beside her. Mother and son were never +guilty of missing a response, or of looking behind them, or of failing +to contribute something in copper to the offertory<ins title="hyphen in +the original"> </ins>plate. If a stranger happened to be conducting the +service, and if he was so lost to a sense of duty as to display unseemly +haste, Mrs. Yellam's voice might be heard, loud and clear, setting the +proper pace. At the end of every prayer, her "Amen" came to be accepted, +even by the young and thoughtless, as a grace and benediction. Always +she wore decent black, as became a woman who had buried—in the +churchyard outside—a husband and three children. But her Easter +bonnet had a touch of mauve in it.</p> + +<p>Her clothes were not the least part of a tremendous personality. +Children believed that she went to bed in her black gown. Authority +exuded from every pore of her skin. Probably Boadicea was cast in just +such a generous mould. She possessed, as will be seen presently, that +British cocksureness which so endears us to foreigners. Her particular +views upon religion, politics, ethics and agriculture (she tended her +own garden admirably)—views constantly aired for the benefit of +her neighbours—had become indurated by use. They had stood, as she +informed all and sundry, the test of time and experience. The Parson, +Mr. Hamlin, observed of her that she was temperamentally incapable of +detecting the defects of her great qualities. She supported Squire and +Parson in all that they said or did, and after the gracious lady of the +manor was the most respected woman in Nether-Applewhite.</p> + +<p>Upon a certain Sunday in June, 1914, Susan Yellam sat as usual in her +pew. Across the aisle, higher up, sat the Squire's servants, and behind +them the Parson's three maids. Before the service began, Mrs. Yellam +noticed that one of the maids was a stranger and not country-bred. The +girl flaunted no finery, but the cut of her modest skirt and jacket +proclaimed her urban. Mrs. Yellam guessed that this was Mr. Hamlin's new +<ins title="hyphenated in the original">parlourmaid</ins> from Old +Sarum. She might be described as pretty, but "peaky" and "spindling." +The Squire preached eugenics, in and out of season, and upon the subject +of young females as potential mothers Mrs. Yellam saw eye to eye with +that genial autocrat. However, she consoled herself with the reflection +that Nether-Applewhite air and good plain food would accomplish a much +needed change. She hoped that the girl would not smirk or giggle if old +Captain Davenant read the lessons, an infallible test in propriety for +strangers. And she wondered vaguely what Alfred would think of her. For +a season, Alfred had "walked out" with this young woman's predecessor, a +bouncing, red-cheeked lass of the village. Nothing had come of such +perambulations. Alfred was what the French term "un célebataire +endurci." And he was made extremely comfortable at home. But he had +passed his thirtieth year, and of late his mother had hinted discreetly +that her cottage, larger than most, could accommodate three +persons—or more.</p> + +<p>Her thoughts were distracted from the new parlourmaid by the arrival +of the Squire and his party. All eyes in the church were concentrated +upon the Squire's only son, Lionel, who brought with him his young wife, +Joyce, the daughter of Mr. Hamlin. Mrs. Yellam knew that this had been a +love-match, brought to a happy issue against opposition. It was known, +also, that Master Lionel had left his regiment, the Rifle Brigade, and +was installed as his sire's land agent. Tongues had wagged freely +concerning a young soldier's competence for such a position. But Mrs. +Yellam had firm faith in the lords of the soil. Master Lionel, in her +opinion, had done the real right thing, both in his choice of a wife and +of a calling. Perhaps to her the call of the land sounded a more clarion +note than any other.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hamlin and the choir filed in. The congregation rose. In the days +of Mr. Hamlin's predecessor, nobody budged from his comfortable seat +when the parson bustled out of the vestry. Mr. Hamlin had changed all +that. He put down billing and cooing in the galleries, and the sucking +of peppermints. At first he was regarded with hostile eyes as an +innovator, but gradually it became known that he had restored forms and +ceremonies which presented definite meaning to the instructed. Villagers +love forms and ceremonies when they are discreetly led to understand +them.</p> + +<p>Old Captain Davenant read the lessons, and the new parlourmaid +emerged triumphant from the ordeal. Mrs. Yellam noticed, too, that she +joined in the responses, and sang the hymns in a modestly restrained, +clear, musical voice. Later, she listened attentively to the sermon. So +far, so good. At the same time, it became obvious to the mother that her +son, even more than herself, was impressed by the deportment and +behaviour of this pretty stranger. During the psalms Alfred's eyes +strayed too often across the narrow aisle, and at sounds of a soft, +beguiling voice he opened his mouth and left it open for a significant +space of time.</p> + +<p>After church, Mrs. Yellam walked home by herself, exchanging sober +greetings with her neighbours. Alfred lingered in the churchyard, as was +his custom, because, being a carrier, he captured a little extra trade +thereby. Also, although a confirmed bachelor, he liked to bandy +pleasantries with the women, young and old, who were indeed his +principal customers.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam, having curtsied respectfully to the Squire and his lady, +moved majestically along the village street. As she passed the baker's a +savoury odour of baked meats assailed her nostrils. It is said that +smell affects the memory potently. So long as she could remember, Susan +Yellam had connected this smell of baked meat with Divine Service. As a +child she had fetched her Sunday dinner from the grandfather of the +present baker, and, always, as a reward, her mother had given her a +large lollipop. After she married, her Sunday dinner was cooked for her +in the same oven and carried to her cottage by a small maid, who, then +and there, received and consumed an immense bull's-eye. And it seemed to +Mrs. Yellam a very fitting and proper thing that on Sunday the flesh +should be as adequately nourished as the spirit. Invariably, also, on +passing the baker's, she experienced a mournful pleasure in recalling +her late husband's remarkable appetite. Alfred, as a trencherman, was no +degenerate son of such a sire.</p> + +<p>When she reached the bend of the road, which skirts the placid Avon, +she saw her cottage and smiled pleasantly. It was thatched, and on that +account beloved by elderly spinsters who drew in water-colour, and +frowned upon by sanitary inspectors. The thatch, a masterpiece of +craftsmanship, surmounted whitewashed walls held together by stout oak +beams black as the Ace of Spades. Generations of Yellams had lived and +died in this cottage. Some might have lived longer—so said the +sanitary inspectors—if the Avon, inconsiderate stream, had never +overflowed its banks, making thereby an island of the cottage and its +garden.</p> + +<p>She entered her house, and walked into the parlour, rarely used. Upon +a round table near the window was an immense family Bible. Mrs. Yellam +placed her prayer-book beside it, and turned to go into the kitchen, +which served as a living-room for herself and her son. Suddenly she +paused, went back to the table, and opened the Bible. It had belonged to +Alfred's great-grandfather. Upon a fly-leaf were many names and +dates—births, marriages and deaths. Her eyes lingered upon +Alfred's name.</p> + +<p>Alfred Habakkuk Yellam, born November 19th, 1883.</p> + +<p>Alfred's father had objected to the name Habakkuk. But Alfred's +mother had her way. A favourite brother had been so christened.</p> + +<p>She closed the Book. Yes; it was fully time that Alfred should marry. +She wondered what name would be inscribed beside his.</p> + +<p>At the kitchen door she found waiting a small Hebe carrying a +beef-steak pudding in a basin done up in a white napkin. Mrs. Yellam +took the pudding from the child, placed it in the oven, after removing +the napkin, and said wonderingly:</p> + +<p>"Whatever be you waiting for?"</p> + +<p>Hebe grinned. Young children love old jokes. Mrs. Yellam took from a +shelf a large green bottle, shook it, and produced the expected +bull's-eye. Hebe opened wide her mouth. Mrs. Yellam popped in the sweet. +Hebe raced away to her own dinner. Mrs. Yellam, holding the bottle in +her hand, stood still for a minute, watching the diminutive, diminishing +figure till it was lost to sight. Then she turned and contemplated her +garden smiling beneath a June sun. The midsummer heat still held +deliciously the freshness of spring. The pervasive charm of the glorious +month was at its highest pitch. And this stout, red-cheeked woman, +nearing her sixtieth year, was subtly conscious of this, although +incapable of putting thoughts into words. But dominating her sense of +the beauty of things there remained an even more immeasurable +satisfaction common to all women when they survey their belongings, +great or small, a fundamental pride in possession which Tory statesmen, +denying the vote to these supermen, have failed to take into wise +account. Women are basically conservative, even the humblest of them. +They cling to property, to tradition; they love the deep lanes, the very +ruts along which they move; they clutch to their bosoms all that is +truly theirs, beginning, of course, with their own children.</p> + +<p>At this moment, the Squire of the parish, Sir Geoffrey Pomfret, +happened to be surveying his domain as seen from his own front door. And +he had less reason behind a pride in great possession than Susan Yellam, +inasmuch as his broad acres were an inheritance. Every vegetable and +flower in the Yellam garden had been planted and tended by the +proprietress. They were perfect in her eyes because of this. She had +precisely the same feeling about Alfred, her son, whom she perceived +leisurely approaching the comfortable home that she had made for +him.</p> + +<p>She went indoors and busied herself with preparations for the most +substantial meal of the week.</p> + +<p>Alfred quickened his pace as he approached the small stable which +held his two serviceable horses and the van which plied regularly +between Nether-Applewhite and Old Sarum. He, too, on entering the +stable, paused to survey his possessions, but not with the same +complacency which might have been seen upon his mother's face. Alfred +loved his horses, and his roomy van balked dearer to him than he would +have cared to admit, certainly as dear as the full-length Reynolds +portrait in the dining-room of Pomfret Court was to the Squire. Both Sir +Geoffrey and he knew that portrait and van must be sacrificed upon the +altar of necessity. Sir Geoffrey needed twenty thousand pounds to reduce +a crippling mortgage; Alfred, if he intended to keep and improve a good +business, must advance with the times to the rattle of a motor. And, of +late, whenever his mind had grappled with this insistent problem, he had +noticed that the old van creaked more than usual, as if in protest.</p> + +<p>Alfred fed his horses, patted their shining necks, and went into the +cottage to "clean up." Splashing mightily, he smelt the beef-and-kidney +pudding. Five minutes afterwards, Mrs. Yellam said grace. Mother and son +ate in silence till the meal was nearly over. Then Mrs. Yellam asked a +question:</p> + +<p>"What be the name, Alferd, o' the new maid over to Vicarage?"</p> + +<p>"Fancy Broomfield."</p> + +<p>"Fancy! Wherever did she come by such a finical name as that?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Mother."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam continued, in a slightly aggressive tone:</p> + +<p>"I never was one to hold with queer onChristian names. It's silly, +too, to call girls by names o' flowers. Look at Lily Pavey!"</p> + +<p>"I never do," affirmed Alfred.</p> + +<p>"Dark-complected, and no better than she should be. An' that there +Rose Mucklow—! More like a gert carrot, seemin'ly."</p> + +<p>Alfred, having enjoyed "advantages," did not use the dialect of +Wiltshire, seldom heard now except from the elderly villagers. As became +a carrier accustomed to pick his way through country lanes, he seldom +argued with his mother, partly because he knew that her tongue was +sharper than his, partly, also, because he travelled, mentally, along +lines of less resistance. On this occasion, he said curtly:</p> + +<p>"I like Fancy."</p> + +<p>"The name or the maid?" asked his mother quickly.</p> + +<p>"Both. The name seems to match the maid."</p> + +<p>"Why, Alferd, whatever do 'ee know about her?"</p> + +<p>"I brought her from Salisbury. A rare talker; she sat beside me, she +did, and talked free and pleasant, as—as a throstle sings."</p> + +<p>His mother eyed him sharply. Alfred, as a rule, disdained flowers of +speech. She proceeded more warily:</p> + +<p>"If so be as you know all about her, let's hear what's to tell. I'll +say this, she behaves herself in church."</p> + +<p>This commendation loosened Alfred's tongue, as was intended. Very +leisurely, between immense mouthfuls of bread and cheese, he told an +artless tale. Fancy, it appeared, was the youngest daughter of a small +farrier in Salisbury, and the first of three daughters to take service. +Her father enjoyed poor health. At this Mrs. Yellam sniffed. She held +strong opinions, like the Squire, upon eugenics. If put to it, she might +have admitted that ill-health was apportioned by Providence to the less +deserving. Dissenters, in her experience, suffered more from mysterious +ailments than Church-people. Draughty, jerry-built Chapels were +handicraft of Satan. Alfred continued. Fancy had chosen a country place, +because she was none too robust.</p> + +<p>"Peaky and spindlin'," remarked Mrs. Yellam. "Is her mother +alive?"</p> + +<p>"The pore soul gave up the ghost when Fancy was born."</p> + +<p>"That's very bad, Alferd."</p> + +<p>Alfred, no pessimist, answered cheerfully:</p> + +<p>"Might have been worse, Mother."</p> + +<p>"Eh?"</p> + +<p>Alfred grinned.</p> + +<p>"She might have died before Fancy was born, and then there'd be one +pretty maid the less in Nether-Applewhite to-day."</p> + +<p>"Gracious! She do seem to find favour with 'ee. 'Tis wicked to wager +money on't, but I'll lay a pound o' good butter, Alferd, that you +disremember Mr. Hamlin's text this marning."</p> + +<p>"You'd win that bet, Mother. I'm bothered and moithered to +death."</p> + +<p>"About this white-faced maid, Alferd?"</p> + +<p>"About my old van. About the horses, too. I'm far-seeing, Mother. Get +that from you, I reckon. Yesterday, in Salisbury, I did take upon myself +the very hateful job of looking at a motor-'bus."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam sighed. Fancy flew out of her capacious mind.</p> + +<p>"What be us coming to, Alferd!"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. But I'm always one to make a guess. My son, maybe, 'll +be a carrier, like his father and granfer before him; likely as not +he'll want to sell the motor-'bus and buy a flying-machine. We all march +on and on."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam gazed mournfully at her son. As a Christian soldier she +believed devoutly in "marching on," but such marching implied a +leisurely procession, not excess speed. She hated motors, because they +rushed by, covering the foot-passengers with dust or mud according to +the season. She had, too, an inchoate aversion to all machinery, because +it minimised and mocked at human labour, which she respected +inordinately. Machinery had driven able-bodied men overseas to return no +more. She had seen certain cunning handicrafts wither and die. For +instance, how many thatchers were left? Machinery, so she believed, had +raised the cost of living; machinery—the ubiquitous +locomotive—linked together disastrously town and country, filling +the minds of maids with what she called "flummery" and covering their +bodies with cheap finery. Machinery, had you probed her heart to its +depths, manufactured free thought, and everything else that lured +God-fearing persons from the old ways. It was, indeed, hateful to think +of her Alfred driving a motor-'bus.</p> + +<p>She exclaimed impulsively:</p> + +<p>"Alferd, don't 'ee sell the horses and van."</p> + +<p>Alfred scratched his head, looking sheepishly at his mother. He +understood her very well, and shared most of her cut-and-dried opinions, +cherishing even her admonitions. All his life he had had good reason to +respect and admire her sterling common sense, less rare amongst +Arcadians than is generally supposed. He replied uneasily:</p> + +<p>"That means losing good business, Mother. Folks want more and more +nowadays, and they want it in a hurry."</p> + +<p>"Leave well alone, Alferd."</p> + +<p>"Suppose well can't be left alone? I ain't one to complain; I'm +grateful to the Lord for His blessings, but if another likely young +feller started a motor-'bus, he'd down-scramble me."</p> + +<p>"I allow you knows best about that."</p> + +<p>She sighed again. He could see that she was profoundly affected. He +went on very slowly, thinking as he spoke:</p> + +<p>"And there's others.... You rub it well into me that this cottage'd +hold more than a man and his mother. If I bring the others here, I must +think of them. I'd like to do handsomely by them as come after us. +Mother," his voice trembled a little, "it's more to me than you think +for, but the old van must go. Our folk won't stay homealong. I'll do a +big business carrying people instead of parcels."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam rose.</p> + +<p>"If you give me they others, Alferd, I'll put up with this wondersome +change. God's ways be our ways, if we look humbly into 'em. I did hear +tell t'other day of a motor-hearse. Don't 'ee carry me to my grave in +one!"</p> + +<p>Alfred solemnly reassured her, and began to fill his pipe.</p> + +<p>As a rule, he took a Sunday nap after dinner, whilst his mother was +washing up. At three, he would stroll along the village street, +combining business with pleasure, picking up gossip and booking orders +for the coming week. Later, he might walk in the park with a companion, +not always of the opposite sex. He liked a wit-sharpening talk with a +man, sensible, perhaps, that his own wits had not too sharp an edge to +them. The women of the village were unanimous in pronouncing him a true +Yellam. All the men of his family were good to look +on—stoutly-built fellows, broad-sterned and broad-shouldered, slow +of speech and movement, slow, too, to wrath, patient under adversity and +modest under prosperity, solid and stolid, kind to animals and children, +and racy of the soil.</p> + +<p>Upon this particular Sunday, Alfred took the high-road earlier than +usual. Fate, rather than inclination, directed his steps towards the +Vicarage. For the moment his van and a pair of horses filled his mind. +Back of these lay a pleasant wish to pass the time of day with Fancy +Broomfield. No doubt she was feeling very homesick. He wondered what she +would have to say upon the subject of motor-'buses. He divined in her a +vein of sentiment, which appealed to him the more strongly because it +was absent in the red-cheeked, bouncing girl whom he had considered, +temporarily, as a future wife. From her he had escaped—thank the +Lord!</p> + +<p>Alfred reached the village in five minutes. It was a source of pride +to his mother and himself that their cottage was isolated. Such +isolation carried with it a certain distinction, an immunity from +derisive comment upon the Monday's washing, and the shrill voices of +scolding wives, and the howling of babies. The Yellams' cottage always +smelled sweet. There were no neighbours to pop in at unseasonable hours +to borrow unconsidered trifles which they had no intention of +returning.</p> + +<p>Nether-Applewhite was regarded by the Squire as a model village, +delightfully old-fashioned in appearance but brought up-to-date by a +judicious expenditure of time and money. The passing traveller admired +the width of the main street which meandered north and south, following +the course of the Avon. Some of the cottages had been built in the +sixteenth century, or, possibly, at an even earlier date. Some were, as +obviously, modern, but not, on that account, unpleasing to the more +critical, for harmony had been aimed at and achieved. The high +note—<i>la note qui chante</i>—was the curious thatching of +the roofs, some of them miracles of cunning craftsmanship. The tiny +gardens blazed with colour, because the lady of the manor loved flowers +and bestowed handsome prizes, each year, upon the most successful of +many competitors. Stocks, red-hot-pokers, larkspur, polyanthus, peonies +and dahlias caught the eye which was lured back to the humbler beauties +of mignonette, forget-me-not, love-in-idleness, and a generous profusion +of roses.</p> + +<p>Few villagers were abroad, but Alfred Yellam bagged a brace of orders +and exchanged banter with half-a-dozen young men loafing near the main +bridge across the Avon. Amongst these happened to be a soldier, looking +very smart in a kilt and white spats. Soldiers were not too highly +esteemed in Nether-Applewhite. This particular specimen was the son of a +notorious poacher, and till now regarded by the fathers of the hamlet as +a ne'er-do-well. To-day, he carried himself handsomely, turning a bold, +bronzed face upon all beholders. He spoke civilly to Alfred and enquired +after his mother. He had just come back from India with his regiment, +and was entertaining an appreciative audience with Eastern tales spiced +like the breezes that blow from Ceylon.</p> + +<p>Alfred listened to him, marvelling at the change in the man. +Presently, he essayed a mild jest:</p> + +<p>"You were a rare runner after the petticoats, Harry, but I never +thought you'd live to wear 'em."</p> + +<p>Bucolic laughter greeted this sally. Harry laughed as gaily as the +others.</p> + +<p>"You may come to it, Alfred Yellam, if what I hear tell of comes +true."</p> + +<p>"And whatever might that be, Harry?"</p> + +<p>"War, Alfred, war such as you fellers never dreamed of."</p> + +<p>"What a tale!"</p> + +<p>Harry surveyed the group critically:</p> + +<p>"A bit o' drill'd make men o' some of 'ee." He broke into a lusty +barrack-room ditty—</p> + +<div class="poem"> + <span class="i1">"It's One—Two—ten times a day,</span> + <span class="i2">And now that you 'ave got it,</span> + <span class="i2">Don't yer give it away—!</span> + <span class="i2">ONE—TWO—ten times a day,</span> + <span class="i2">When I was in the timid, orkard squad, boys."</span> +</div> + +<p>Alfred said solemnly:</p> + +<p>"I ain't one to deny that wars may come. And you were always a good +fighter, Harry, but we are men o' peace."</p> + +<p>"Ay," said one of the group, "I never did fancy soldierin'."</p> + +<p>Alfred said slily:</p> + +<p>"William ain't yet forgiven a Hampshire redcoat who walked out and +off, by Golly! with his girl."</p> + +<p>Having fired this shot, Alfred walked on. In his mind he turned over +the thought of war, such a war as he, indeed, had never dreamed of in +maddest nightmare. And the words and tune of the barrack-room ditty +echoed through the cells of his brain. He wondered vaguely whether he +could stick such dire discipline—ten times a day. Wouldn't he up +and smite the sergeant to mother earth with his big fists, which +clenched themselves at the mere thought of such a treadmill? Then he +reflected comfortably that England's fleet sailed gloriously between him +and such a possibility. The Squire belonged to the blue-water school. So +did the Parson. Alfred muttered to himself:</p> + +<p>"They talk that way because they know no better, pore souls!"</p> + +<p>A carrier had other things to worry about.</p> + +<p>Approaching the Vicarage by the back way, he heard a woman's voice. +He stood still. Tender modulations fluttered, like doves of peace, out +of the pantry window. Alfred smiled.</p> + +<p class="p5">"'Tis she, the pretty dear! Talks and sings just like a +throstle."</p> + +<h3><a name="Ch2"></a>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<h4>FANCY BROOMFIELD</h4> + +<p class="p2">Fancy Broomfield left Salisbury for Nether-Applewhite with +a heavy heart not hidden by a pathetic smile. Possibly Alfred Yellam had +a glimpse of unshed tears, when she took her place beside him in his +van. And his ears may have caught a poignant note of distress quavering +now and again beneath her prattle. Country folk are observant, although +they keep their observations to themselves. Fancy had been happy at +home. When she took a place in Salisbury, in the time-honoured Cathedral +Close, she saw her people frequently. As she moved farther from +Salisbury, she was grievously conscious of what separation from her +father included. The fact that he was failing in health, and therefore +in fortune, punctuated her misgivings. Alfred won her confidence with a +few curt words about her new place and its master. He did not mention +her bouncing predecessor, but he talked of the Parson and his household +with the incisive tones of one who knew. What he said was reassuring. +Most maidservants approach a new place with justifiable apprehensions +concerning the mistress. In this case there was no mistress. Possibly +disagreeable fellow-servants may arouse even livelier forebodings. A +cook, for example, holds the keys of Heaven and Hell in her hands. Fancy +had envisaged an immense cook with a great red face, and a liver swollen +to atrabiliar disproportions. She was pleased to learn that the autocrat +of the Parson's kitchen was not much larger than herself and +consistently amiable.</p> + +<p>"Parson preaches against sour faces," said Alfred. "No yapping and +snarling in his house. From your looks, you ain't one to come +slummicking in after hours with a silly tale about being took all over +queer when out walking."</p> + +<p>"My! no," affirmed Fancy.</p> + +<p>Alfred digested this in silence. Fancy had already told him much +about her family, but she had not mentioned others. Presently, Alfred +said abruptly:</p> + +<p>"Have you got a young man in Salisbury?"</p> + +<p>Fancy laughed for the first time, a silvery trickle of laughter.</p> + +<p>"Why should you think I have, Mr. Yellam?"</p> + +<p>"It seems to me likely."</p> + +<p>"Well, I am fond of one boy. He's too sweet for anything."</p> + +<p>"Is he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'd like you to meet him. Maybe I'll show you his photograph +one fine day. It's in my trunk. He's a sailor-boy, and at sea."</p> + +<p>"Ah. At sea, is he? My mother says that a woman is silly to marry a +sailor. Why? Because, if you love him, he is always at sea, and if you +hate him, he bides at home."</p> + +<p>Fancy laughed again.</p> + +<p>"Then my boy, after he marries, will be always at sea. How miserable +for his wife!"</p> + +<p>"It is a fair warning."</p> + +<p>"For me, Mr. Yellam?"</p> + +<p>"I mean, if you marry your sailor-boy."</p> + +<p>"But I can't marry my own dear brother."</p> + +<p>And then Alfred laughed, Homerically.</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards, he left her and a modest box at the Vicarage. She +thanked him demurely, asking how much she owed him. Alfred was tempted +to demand a kiss in payment, but a glance at a virginal face restrained +him. He said, "One shilling, please, miss," and she slipped the coin +into his ample palm, adding: "It's a new one. That brings luck, don't +it?" Alfred indulged in no speculations on this point, but when he found +himself alone, he examined the loose change in his pocket, and picking +out a new shilling, transferred it to another pocket, wondering +furtively if he were making a fool of himself. He whistled gaily as he +drove on.</p> + +<p>Fancy was shown to a small room, which pleased her immensely, because +no other maid shared it with her. From a casemented window, she could +see the park of Pomfret Court, with its clumps of fine trees and its +herds of dappled deer. She felt that she would be happy in such a quiet +place. The room was very simply but comfortably furnished, spotlessly +clean and fresh. She admired the wall-paper, white with small sprigs of +pink roses on it. What a lucky girl to have such a nice room! And, +approaching the Vicarage, she had fallen in love with the many-gabled +house standing amongst beeches, a warm-looking house of time-mellowed +brick, built substantially, happily situated below the church and just +above the village. As she was unpacking, the house-maid, Molly, brought +her a cup of tea. Being her first day, Fancy was not expected to wait at +dinner, but Molly told her that after dinner she would be sent for, and +that she might expect a five-minute chat with her master.</p> + +<p>"Is he masterful?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Molly nodded, adding confidentially:</p> + +<p>"Such a pair of eyes as never was. Gimlets! It ain't no fun lying to +him, and no use either. He can look bang through a pore girl, and tell +her what she's had for dinner."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Fancy.</p> + +<p>"Don't you worry! 'Tis an easy place. No SHE poking and prying about. +Only we have to be good girls here, and then we're happy."</p> + +<p>"I do hope I shall be happy," said Fancy, adding hastily, "I look +such a fright when I ain't."</p> + +<p>After dinner she was duly sent for, and found the Parson walking up +and down his study. He regarded her austerely, bidding her welcome to +his house. Fancy noticed at once the keenness of his glance, and the +still more penetrating quality of his voice. First impressions count +enormously with sensitive creatures, and young women in Fancy's station +of life are not much concerned with shades and gradations. To most of +them men are angels or devils, black or white. Fancy had encountered +what she called "devils" in Salisbury, rough fellows with Rabelaisian +jests upon their thick lips. From such she shrank instinctively. Happily +for her, she had met the other sort in and out of the Cathedral Close. +Instantly, she acclaimed Mr. Hamlin as angel, a rather terrible angel, +such as she imagined Saint Michael to be, pitiless to the wicked, +smiting them hip and thigh with a flaming sword. Her second impression, +not quite so vivid, was more agreeable. The Parson's clothes were +shabby, and his study, which, indeed, reflected truthfully the man's +personality, presented a somewhat bleak aspect. It looked a workshop +rather than a comfortable room. The cocoanut matting was worn; plain +deal shelves held innumerable cheaply-bound books; pamphlets were piled +upon the floor; the chairs, with one exception, were not upholstered. +She blushed a little as the thought came to her that she, the new +parlourmaid, not yet in working kit, was the smartest object in her +master's room.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hamlin asked her a few questions. Fancy had good references; she +was a Churchwoman; she had been confirmed by Sarum himself. She belonged +to the Girls' Friendly Society. Did she like her work? Yes. Mr. Hamlin +smiled. For a moment Saint Michael vanished and a less terrifying +personage stood in his place.</p> + +<p>"I like <i>my</i> work," said the Parson incisively. "That is a vital +matter. Perhaps it is the most vital matter in the world. Each of us has +his or her work, and if we do it gladly it is well with us. You don't +look very strong."</p> + +<p>"I'm much stronger than I look, sir."</p> + +<p>Her soft, deprecating voice brought another smile to the Parson's +lips. He said abruptly:</p> + +<p>"Good. Women need all their strength and reserves of strength. Your +work here will not be too hard. Spare yourself whenever you reasonably +can, and so you will serve me and yourself the better. Good-night."</p> + +<p>Fancy went away, slightly awed, but feeling much more comfortable. +Before going to bed, she wrote a short letter to her father, telling him +that she liked her place. She added a postscript: "Mr. Yellam, the +carrier, was ever so kind to me."</p> + +<p>She slept well in a comfortable bed.</p> + +<p>She came to Nether-Applewhite on a Thursday. On the following Sunday, +as Alfred Yellam had foreseen, she was feeling homesick, because she had +never failed to see her own people on that day. After luncheon, to +hearten herself up, she sang hymns in the pantry.</p> + +<p>Her face brightened, when she perceived Alfred at the door of the +pantry. After asking her how she fared, and learning that the other +maids were "out," he said, in business-like tones:</p> + +<p>"Any orders for the carrier?"</p> + +<p>Fancy smiled demurely. She was alone in the house. The Parson had a +Children's Service at three. She guessed that, as a rule, carriers did +not call for orders at such an hour.</p> + +<p>"Not as I know of, Mr. Yellam. Do you generally call for orders on +Sunday afternoon?"</p> + +<p>By this time she had been informed of Alfred's perambulations with +her predecessor. It might be an honoured custom in Nether-Applewhite for +the carrier to walk out with the Vicarage parlourmaid. Alfred gave a +guffaw.</p> + +<p>"Well, no; I took a notion to drop in, casual-like, to pass the time +of day."</p> + +<p>"What would the Vicar say to that?"</p> + +<p>"Parson ain't the fearsome man you take him to be. A very human +gentleman, always welcome in our house. And I make bold to tell you that +I'm heartily welcome in his."</p> + +<p>"If that is so," said Fancy, politely, "won't you sit down, Mr. +Yellam?"</p> + +<p>She indicated a chair into which Alfred bumped massively, with the +air of one not to be budged from an impregnable position. Fancy was +getting ready some dainty tea-things.</p> + +<p>"Expecting company, miss?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Mr. Lionel Pomfret and Mrs. Pomfret. A nice tea. Master's +orders."</p> + +<p>Alfred nodded. He eyed Fancy with ever-increasing approval. A black +gown, with snowy apron, bib, and cap, became her admirably. Beneath the +cap her soft brown hair lay in shining ripples; the bib lent extra +fulness to a too thin bosom; her big hazel eyes sparkled with animation; +her pale cheeks had a tinge of pink in them. Alfred contrasted her +delicate features with the exuberant comeliness of the late parlourmaid. +Charm was not a word very distinctly defined in his vocabulary. But he +became conscious of Fancy's charm, although he would have called it by +another name. Certainly she was sweetly pretty, like a rose-leaf which a +rough wind might blow away. More than aught else, too, he was struck by +her little hands, which moved deftly and swiftly. He made sure that she +was a good needlewoman. Such hands could make light pastry. All this +pleased him tremendously. Fancy prattled on about the company expected, +telling Alfred what he knew already, but he listened in silence, +captivated by her voice. She cut dexterously some thin slices of brown +bread-and-butter, as she spoke of the love-match between Squire's son +and Parson's daughter.</p> + +<p>"I am looking forward to waiting on them," she declared.</p> + +<p>"Yes—a very handsome, notable couple. Squire'll be a granfer +before he knows where he is."</p> + +<p>"What things you do say, Mr. Yellam!"</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! In my common way, I say what I think, never meaning offence, +particularly to young maids, but 'tis a fact Sir Geoffrey is fair aching +for grandchildren, the more the merrier. 'Twould be terrible if his +house and lands passed to some measly next-of-kin. But we won't think of +that."</p> + +<p>"No. Not yet, at any rate."</p> + +<p>Alfred felt reproved but not disconcerted. It might be politic to +change the talk to motor-'buses, so he said abruptly:</p> + +<p>"I'm in a fair sweat, Miss Fancy."</p> + +<p>"Mercy me! Shall I fetch you a glass of water?"</p> + +<p>"Figure of speech, miss. It's like this, if you'll excuse me talking +of my own affairs."</p> + +<p>"Why, I like that. It's so—so friendly of you, Mr. Yellam."</p> + +<p>"I'm standing betwixt the devil and the deep sea."</p> + +<p>"Well, I never!"</p> + +<p>He gazed so earnestly at Fancy that she wondered if she were the deep +sea, and that the devil was an allusion to the late parlourmaid. Alfred +continued:</p> + +<p>"The world, miss, goes round and round for true lovers, but it don't +stand still for anybody, leastways not for carriers. We must push along +with the times, eh?"</p> + +<p>He glanced at her anxiously. She was quick to perceive that he wanted +counsel and much flattered thereby. She eyed him as keenly as he, just +now, had eyed her. Being so frail and attenuated herself, his massive +form and square head attracted her strangely. She admired his big chin +and too heavy nose. And her eyes lingered with appreciation upon the +bulging biceps and deltoids shewing strongly beneath his thin summer +jacket. What a sad pity that her dear father had not been cast in such a +mould! To his anxious question, she replied with a little bob of her +head.</p> + +<p>"My father and granfer were carriers before me. Van and horses was +good enough for them. And good enough for me, too. It tears me to scrap +'em."</p> + +<p>"Scrap them?"</p> + +<p>"Ay. When you go back home, how'd it suit you to ride in a +motor-'bus?"</p> + +<p>"It would be grand," said Fancy.</p> + +<p>Alfred rubbed his hands; his red face beamed.</p> + +<p>"Dang me, if that don't put the lid on it."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Mr. Yellam?"</p> + +<p>"I was half hoping you'd say what you did. Yes—it would be +grand. A nice 'bus—red and yaller—'d make the neighbours yap +a bit. Do you know what they call my old van?"</p> + +<p>"It's a nice comfortable van."</p> + +<p>"So 'tis. But would-be funny folks call it 'Flash o' Lightnin'.'"</p> + +<p>Fancy laughed. Alfred decided that it was a treat to hear her +laugh.</p> + +<p>"Are you angry with me for laughing?"</p> + +<p>"Lord—no! A laugh like yours warms the cockles of my heart. +Laugh away, miss. All the same, there's a meaning in what neighbours +say. I do move slow, when I've a load. And in winter-time, when roads +are heavy, I just crawl along. You're right. A motor-'bus <i>is</i> +grand. And I can pay cash for one, I can."</p> + +<p>He spoke with pride, opening his large hands. Fancy, having finished +cutting the bread-and-butter, sat down opposite to Alfred. With some +difficulty he mastered the impulse to invite this bird-like creature to +perch on his knee. Her air of aloofness both pleased and exasperated +him. She sat very still, with her hands folded upon her lap, just as +good girls sat in church. Alfred talked with gusto about +motor-'buses.</p> + +<p>"Can you drive a motor?" asked Fancy, when he paused to mop his +forehead with a huge red bandana.</p> + +<p>"No, miss. But if I say it as shouldn't, I can do most anything when +I try. They'll teach me in Salisbury—free, gratis and for nothing, +if I buy the 'bus."</p> + +<p>"I do hope you'll be careful, Mr. Yellam."</p> + +<p>Alfred was delighted at this mark of solicitude. For the moment +nothing more was to be said. He searched his mind for another suitable +topic of conversation. Already he had decided to ask Fancy to walk out +with him, but he feared a rebuff. It was "up" to him to shew her his +paces. Any premature love-making might be disastrous. Nevertheless, it +behoved him to waste no time in making himself agreeable. Half-a-dozen +likely young fellows would be fluttering about Fancy before the week was +out. First come, first served. He essayed a fresh flight:</p> + +<p>"Coming through village, miss, I met a soldier—'No Account +Harry' we used to call him. Back from the Indies, and spruced up +wonderful."</p> + +<p>Fancy exhibited lively interest.</p> + +<p>"A soldier, Mr. Yellam! I do like soldiers, +because—because——" Her voice melted on a silence; her +cheeks shewed a deeper pink.</p> + +<p>"Do tell, miss. Why do you like—soldiers?"</p> + +<p>"You'll think me such a silly."</p> + +<p>"Not me. I'm no mumbudgetter. What you tell me I'll keep to +myself."</p> + +<p>Her eyes dwelt steadily on his. In a lower voice, she asked:</p> + +<p>"Do you believe in fortune-telling, Mr. Yellam?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know as I do. But I don't know as I don't."</p> + +<p>"I do. And—maybe the Vicar wouldn't like this—I can tell +fortunes myself with cards."</p> + +<p>"Well, I never!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. About three months ago, a lady came to Salisbury and lodged +near us. She told fortunes with cards; she taught me. She didn't do it +for money. Now, if you laugh, I'll never forgive you...."</p> + +<p>Alfred became portentously solemn.</p> + +<p>"The lady told me that I should marry a soldier."</p> + +<p>Alfred looked perturbed, but his shrewd sense sustained him.</p> + +<p>"Did she? Likely as not she'd seen you walking out with one."</p> + +<p>"I have never walked out with a soldier."</p> + +<p>Alfred looked unhappy. He thought of the well-set-up Highlander. He +beheld Fancy hanging on his arm, gazing upward into a bronzed, +devil-may-care face, listening to strange tales of the Orient. Jealousy +ravaged him. His dejection deepened when he discovered that his tongue +had lost the trick of speech. He yearned to speak lightly and +facetiously about soldiers. But he could think of nothing better than +this:</p> + +<p>"Soldiers are soldiers."</p> + +<p>Fancy read him easily. Her father distrusted soldiers, who loved and +ran away. He had warned her against their beguilements. But Fancy had +read English history, more intelligently than most girls of similar +upbringing. She knew what soldiers had done for England. Also, she had +eye for a bit of colour. Soldiers appealed to her imagination. She put +sailors first, the jolly tars. Tommy came next, with his swagger cane, +his jaunty walk, and his cap cocked on one side, shewing a "quiff" +beneath.</p> + +<p>"Why do men, like you, Mr. Yellam, despise soldiers?"</p> + +<p>Alfred wriggled, impaled upon this barbed hook. He had wit enough to +realise that serious issues impended. He might easily offend Fancy. And +no answer rose pat to his tongue. Why did he despise soldiers? He was +too honest to deny the indictment. Yes; he did despise soldiers. He +answered stolidly:</p> + +<p>"There are soldiers and soldiers. 'Tis sober truth, miss, that the +best men in these parts don't enlist. The pay is bad, and the work hard. +The wrong 'uns take the shilling only when they're driven to it. It may +be different in Salisbury."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that it is. I can understand why men like you, Mr. +Yellam, don't enlist. Why should you? But that doesn't change my +feelings about soldiers. Whatever they may have been, whatever they are, +I think of this: At any moment, with their hard work, with their poor +pay, they may be called upon to give their lives for—us."</p> + +<p>Her soft voice faltered. Perhaps Alfred was already in love. He may +have been. When her voice failed, and he beheld her for the first time +as a woman of sensibilities, tender for others, pleading for the less +fortunate, all that was best in him leaped into being. Nothing but his +disability to find words for his thoughts prevented him from avowing his +feelings. He realised instantly that here sat the girl for him, the wife +he wanted. His experiments in courtship, if you could term it that, +confirmed his conviction that he had remained single so long simply +because Fancy was waiting for him. She was absolutely right because the +others had been as absolutely wrong.</p> + +<p>"That's true," he heard himself saying.</p> + +<p>Fancy went on in a livelier tone:</p> + +<p>"Have you read Kipling, Mr. Yellam?"</p> + +<p>"I seem to have heard tell of Mr. Rudyard Kipling in the +newspapers."</p> + +<p>"I want to tell you what he said about soldiers."</p> + +<p>She quoted slowly:</p> + +<div class="poem"> + <span class="i0">"It's Tommy this, and Tommy that, and Tommy—go + away!</span> + <span class="i0">But it's—Thank you, Mr. Atkins, when the band + begins to play."</span> +</div> + +<p>Alfred was visibly impressed. He recalled the Highlander's words +about war, such a war as he had never dreamed of. What if the band did +begin to play? More, it surprised him that Fancy should quote Kipling. +Obviously, she had enjoyed educational advantages denied to him. She +spoke like the quality. He began to measure the distance between them, +conscious of shrinkage in himself. To gain time he repeated her last +words:</p> + +<p>"When the band begins to play! 'No Account Harry' spoke of that, yes, +he did. But war is for kings and potentates, not for us. As I came along +river, I says to myself: 'We have peace here, glory be to our noble +Fleet!' It gives me a mort of comfort thinking of our mighty ships. And +I remember what Parson said not so long ago. 'You working-men,' he says, +'are the backbone of England.' And, by Golly! I stiffened myself +accordingly."</p> + +<p>Fancy smiled, and said no more. She glanced at the pantry clock. +Alfred rose. His face was redder than usual, as he held out his hand. It +consoled him mightily to reflect that "No Account Harry," by virtue or +vice of an unsavoury record, would hardly dare to stick his tip-tilted +nose into the Vicarage.</p> + +<p>"So long, Miss Fancy. Would it be called presumption, if I made so +bold as to ask you to take the air with me next Sunday? 'Tis wonderful +pretty in the Park, and I'd like to shew you the fat bullocks."</p> + +<p>Fancy blushed, for he was squeezing her small hand.</p> + +<p>"I should like it very much," she replied simply.</p> + +<p>Alfred asked for no more, wise man! He had squeezed her hand, and she +had not resented it, although her slim fingers lay calm and cool within +his ardent clasp. She accompanied him to the back door. In the lapel of +his jacket Alfred sported one of his mother's roses. He presented it to +Fancy in silence—and fled. As he passed into the park, intending +to map out a pilgrimage for the following Sunday, he thought +complacently:</p> + +<p>"I'm a forcible man. Neighbours say that, and 'tis so. She's a dinky +maid, bless her!"</p> + +<p>With eager strides he mounted the gentle slope of the long escarpment +between Pomfret Vicarage and Pomfret Court, keeping to the right of the +main drive. The path he followed meandered through a plantation. +Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of a pair of lovers strolling arm in +crook, with love in their eyes and laughter on their lips. He recognised +Lionel Pomfret and his bride. Alfred plunged into the hazels and let +them pass. When the coast was clear he took the path again, skirting the +Court and the Home Farm, and, ultimately, debouching upon the downs. +Warmed by his walk, he removed his hat and fanned himself with it. Then +he sat down and let his eyes wander across the landscape.</p> + +<p>How fair it was upon that midsummer's afternoon!</p> + +<p>A soft haze slightly obscured the water meadows. Through it he could +see the Avon, a silvery riband. In the far distance the finest spire in +the world soared into palely blue skies. The breeze from the land had +died down. Presently the breeze from the sea would stir, tremulously, +the grasses at his feet. Sheep were grazing hard by. Some of them rested +in the shade of the yews which fringed the top of the down. Immediately +below him stretched the park. Under the clumps of beeches stood the +fallow deer. Beyond were the lawns of Pomfret Court, flanked by ancient +elms and oaks and horse-chestnuts. Between the masses of translucent +foliage, the façade of the house glowed faintly red as if the sunbeams +penetrating the bricks during nearly four hundred years were now +radiating from them.</p> + +<p>All this to Alfred—and to how many others—was the outward +and visible sign of peace, a peace sanctified by time and the labour of +countless hands. That such a peace could be imperilled passed the +understanding of wiser men than the carrier. Surely it would endure till +the end, till eternity.</p> + +<p class="p5">For ever and ever—Amen!</p> + +<h3><a name="Ch3"></a>CHAPTER III</h3> + +<h4>INTRODUCING MRS. MUCKLOW</h4> + +<p class="p2">Susan Yellam rarely left her cottage, and, during +week-days, was not too cordial to chance visitors. On Sunday afternoon, +however, she was at home to friends, and hospitably glad to offer them +the best cup of tea in Nether-Applewhite, and some hot buttered toast +which waited for nobody. If a too nice stomach disdained buttered toast, +the pangs of hunger could be alleviated with bread and honey (from the +hives in the garden) or bread and jam (of Mrs. Yellam's own making). A +rich cake was in cut.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam had been a Mucklow. And her favourite brother, Habakkuk, +had married a Rockley—all of Nether-Applewhite. Mrs. Mucklow +generally dropped in on Sunday afternoons, bringing a grievance with +her. The Mucklows had not prospered like the Yellams and Rockleys. And +this was the more remarkable because the Mucklow men were fine +upstanding fellows, reasonably sober, and God-fearing Churchgoers. The +ancients of the village affirmed that the brains of the family had been +served out in one lump, and given to Susan Yellam.</p> + +<p>Upon the Sunday following Alfred's visit to the Vicarage, Mrs. +Mucklow, wearing black silk and a bonnet, dropped into the cottage. She +was taller than her sister-in-law, and very thin. Invariably she +disagreed with everything said by Mrs. Yellam, and yet, oddly enough, +the two women remained friends, partly because Susan believed devoutly +in the ties of blood, and partly because Jane's rather fatuous +contradictions shed searchlights upon Susan's commonsense. Wisdom is +comfortably bolstered by the folly of others.</p> + +<p>"Well, Jane, how be you?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mucklow answered dolorously:</p> + +<p>"I be no better than I was las' Sunday."</p> + +<p>"That's bad."</p> + +<p>"No, it ain't. I expected to be worse. Very soon I shall be lying +along o' Mother. She suffered wi' her innards, pore soul, just as I +do."</p> + +<p>"She got comfort out of it, too, just as you do, dear. Sit you down, +and let's hear the news."</p> + +<p>Jane Mucklow sighed, and sat down. Unlike her sister-in-law, she +strayed daily into the cottages of her neighbours, picking up gossip, +and repeating it with embellishments of her own. As she removed white +cotton gloves, she said sharply:</p> + +<p>"I want your news first, Susan."</p> + +<p>"But I haven't any, Jane; nothing, that is to say, which you don't +well know already."</p> + +<p>"Maybe. But I wanted it from your own lips."</p> + +<p>"Bless the woman! Whatever do 'ee want?"</p> + +<p>"What you prides yourself on giving—information. Don't sit +there so genteel, and pretend to me that you don't know what your Alferd +be up to this very minute!"</p> + +<p>"I don't—and nor do you."</p> + +<p>"Yas, I do. Your Alferd was over to Vicarage las' Sunday. To-day, +he's traipsin' the Park with Miss Fancy Broomfield."</p> + +<p>From her pronunciation of the name, it was quite evident that the +young person in question was not what diplomats call <i>gratissima</i> +to Mrs. Mucklow. And the sniff that followed was aggressive. Mrs. Yellam +poured out a large cup of tea with an impassive face. Inwardly, she +winced. Alfred had kept his plans to himself, doing so, moreover, in +accordance with advice well rubbed into him ever since he had affairs of +his own to attend to. But a mother—and such a mother—might +be deemed an exception to a golden rule. Mrs. Yellam said calmly:</p> + +<p>"Is he? Who is your Rose walking out wi'?"</p> + +<p>The question was ungrammatical and unkind. Rose, large, plain, and +red-headed, sighed for swains who did not walk out with her. She might +have been comfortably married to Alfred at this minute. The older +families in Nether-Applewhite fancied intermarriage, much to the +exasperation of Sir George Pomfret. And so far—the stock being +exceptionally sound—no great evil had come of this. Within the +year Prudence Rockley had married her first cousin. In Mrs. Mucklow's +opinion marriages between near of kin were preferable to alliances with +outsiders. Town girls, she regarded, not without reason, as hussies.</p> + +<p>"My Rose be a good girl, and well you knows it."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you have something agen this Fancy Broomfield? If so, Jane, +out wi' it."</p> + +<p>"Townbred girls be all alike."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam replied tranquilly:</p> + +<p>"I bain't an upholder o' they, but I keep faith in my Alferd's good +sense and judgment. He's walked out wi' a baker's dozen o' maids afore +this 'un, and why not? I've allers told Alferd to pick an' choose."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mucklow attacked the buttered toast almost viciously.</p> + +<p>"'Tis true, I suppose, that his father's van ain't good enough for +<i>your</i> son?"</p> + +<p>Inwardly Mrs. Yellam winced again. Alfred had made his decision "on +his own." But she answered as tranquilly as before:</p> + +<p>"Seemin'ly it ain't. God A'mighty knows what us be coming to, and He +don't tell. As a Christian woman I bows afore Him."</p> + +<p>Poor Mrs. Mucklow, continually contrasting the prosperity of Alfred +with the ill-luck, as she deemed it, of her own three sons, sniffed +again. Not long since the three Mucklows had contemplated emigration to +Canada. They had been anchored in Nether-Applewhite by Mr. Fishpingle, +sometime butler to Sir Geoffrey, now bailiff at the Home Farm. They +happened to pursue avocations such as hurdling, spar-making, hedging and +ditching, which were precariously dependent upon a demand that varied +tremendously, a demand that, year by year, shewed inexorable signs of +failing. And Mrs. Mucklow was uneasily conscious that her sons' ill luck +was regarded by her sister-in-law as part of a Divine dispensation. In +the same complacent spirit the good-luck of Alfred became, in Susan +Yellam's eyes, a mark of Divine favour. It may be imagined how this +rankled in the heart of a woman who held herself to be as good a +Christian as her neighbours, and perhaps better. Mrs. Mucklow retorted +tartly:</p> + +<p>"You be allers shovin' your Christian feelin's down our throats, +Susan. But I say this—you ain't been tried as I hev."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam dealt with this drastically.</p> + +<p>"I be thankful for God's mercies. I might be less thankful if so be +as I mixed up my victuals as you do. Faith in A'mighty God have more to +do wi' the stomach than most folks think on. As for being tried—I +tend four graves in churchyard to your one."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mucklow's small beady eyes softened.</p> + +<p>"Yas—you've had your sore trials, Susan. And the graves be a +credit to 'ee. But I've said it afore, and I say it again, small +fam'lies make for righteousness. Keepin' my childern in shoe-leather +alone took a deal o' saintliness out o' me. Be that cake?"</p> + +<p>"I hopes so. Have a slice?"</p> + +<p>"Your rich cake allers lies heavy on my pore stomach, but 'twould be +ungenteel to refuse."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam cut a large slice. As Mrs. Mucklow consumed it, Mrs. +Yellam said impressively:</p> + +<p>"I'll tell 'ee something, Jane, as betwixt us two. I ain't one to +brag unduly, and 'tis true that I be proud o' my Christian feelings. For +why? Because, long ago, I come mighty near to losing 'em."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mucklow gasped; a piece of cake stuck in her throat.</p> + +<p>"I never did! Come near to losin' 'em, did 'ee?"</p> + +<p>"Yas." Mrs. Yellam's voice became solemn. "When I buried my pore +husband...."</p> + +<p>"That was a rare funeral, Susan. Squire and my lady there, flowers +from the Hall, a very moving set-out. Was I interrupting of 'ee?"</p> + +<p>"You was, Jane, but never mind. As I laid my husband to rest, I says +to myself: 'The Lard gave and the Lard ha' taken away.'"</p> + +<p>"Very proper."</p> + +<p>"The pore man suffered so bad with rheumatics that it seemed God's +mercy to take 'un. He'd no pleasure in life onless he were talking of +his aches and pains. And allers the misery o' telling me what he'd like +to eat an' drink—and couldn't. That fair tore him, and me. He was +a rare doer, like Alferd. When he was taken, I did not rebel."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mucklow was so interested that she suspended operations with the +cake, awaiting the climax of an astounding tale, arrested by a strange +expression upon her sister-in-law's face. The pupils of Mrs. Yellam's +eyes seemed to contract; her lips became set. She continued very +impressively:</p> + +<p>"When my children died, 'twas different. Seemed to me like as if I +was buryin' part o' myself. 'Twere bad enough when the two boys went, +but when Lizzie sickened, my own lil' maid, why then, Jane, I did +rebel."</p> + +<p>"And no wonder!"</p> + +<p>"I watched her slippin' away, and I says, 'No more churchgoin'.'"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mucklow repeated the words:</p> + +<p>"No more churchgoing—! That, from you? I be shaken to my beam +ends."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam went on, in the same cold, incisive voice:</p> + +<p>"We be told, Jane, that the Lard chastens him whom He loves, but we +read elsewhere in the holy Book that He chastises them as He hates. When +Lizzie died I'd the blasphemeous notion that God A'mighty hated me. And +then my faith went a-flutterin' out o' winder. I lay in bed two Sundays, +because I dassn't go into my pew. I never spoke to nobody. Yas—I +lay abed, fighting Satan. He tempted me rarely."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mucklow nodded.</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! You be tellin' a wondersome tale, Susan. Satan nearly had +me, near as no matter, when I was a maid. He came gallivantin' along in +a red coat...."</p> + +<p>"A soldier?"</p> + +<p>"No, a fox-hunting young gentleman. 'Tis a subject I don't care to +think about. How did Satan tempt you, Susan?"</p> + +<p>"Wi' a brandy-bottle. It stood there makin' eyes at me...."</p> + +<p>"For all the world like my young gentleman."</p> + +<p>"What saved you, Jane?"</p> + +<p>"I dunno'. It might ha' been God A'mighty's grace. It might ha' been +fear o' consequences.'</p> + +<p>"Them two things saved me, Jane. But I calls it one thing. God +A'mighty's grace made both on us think o' consequences. I says to +myself: 'What will Alferd do if his mother don't go churchalong? What'll +happen to him, if his mother be known as a drunkard?' And, there and +then, Jane, my pore faith come a-flutterin' back, a-shaking its +feathers, like a hen after a storm o' rain. And the storm was over, too. +It's been warm and sunny for me ever since. Now you know why I be proud +o' my Christian feelings."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mucklow nodded and finished her cake. She had begun her second +cup of tea, when steps were heard upon the stone flags which led from +the front wicket to the back door.</p> + +<p>"'Tis Alferd," said Mrs. Yellam.</p> + +<p>"And Miss Fancy Broomfield," added Jane Mucklow. "Come to ask your +blessing, Susan."</p> + +<p>"Fiddle!" replied Mrs. Yellam sharply.</p> + +<p>Within a minute, however, it became plain that Alfred wanted nothing +more exciting than a cup of tea for himself and his companion. They had +climbed to the top of the down, after visiting Mr. Fishpingle at the +Home Farm. Miss Broomfield, formally presented to the elder women and as +formally received, looked pale and tired. Possibly, she divined +hostility the more penetrating because suppressed. Mrs. Yellam said +magnificently:</p> + +<p>"Please excuse me for welcoming you, Miss Broomfield, in my +kitchen."</p> + +<p>Fancy smiled.</p> + +<p>"What a pretty kitchen!"</p> + +<p>The kitchen—as Mrs. Yellam was complacently +aware—deserved the adjective. It boasted, what is never found in +modern cottages, an open hearth and ingle-nook. Hams and flitches of +bacon were smoked in the wide chimney. After such treatment, the hams +were hung in a row from a big black beam. By the side of the hearth +stood a small stove large enough to bake modest joints. The window, with +diamond-paned casements, was deeply recessed, with a red-cushioned seat +running round it. The dresser, opposite to the hearth, exhibited pewter +and some willow-pattern pottery. Upon the oak panelling on each side of +the hearth hung gleaming brass, including an immense warming-pan. The +table in the middle of the room had been stoutly built of deal. Removing +the table-cloth, you would have seen a surface scrubbed white as the +linen cloth. Along the window-sill were pots of geraniums. Even Mrs. +Mucklow admitted that Queen Mary could eat her dinner off the red tiles +of the floor.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam nodded. Alfred brought a chair for Fancy, but she +declared her intention of sitting upon one of two stools against the +wall.</p> + +<p>To her amazement, Alfred said sharply:</p> + +<p>"Don't sit on that!"</p> + +<p>"Why ever not, Mr. Yellam?"</p> + +<p>"'Tis a coffin stool."</p> + +<p>Fancy sat down upon the chair he placed for her. Mrs. Mucklow said +mournfully:</p> + +<p>"I wonders, Susan, why you keep they stools in your kitchen."</p> + +<p>"And so do I," added Alfred.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam answered simply:</p> + +<p>"They mind me, Alferd, that in the midst o' life we be wise to think, +now and again, o' death. Will you remove your hat, Miss Broomfield?"</p> + +<p>Fancy did so, slipping off her gloves first. Mrs. Yellam frightened +her a little. Not quite at ease, she minded her table manners, and +behaved with a gentility quietly noted and silently commended by the +elder women. On such occasions, when a stranger happened to be present, +Mrs. Yellam loved to lead the talk, choosing a subject likely to improve +the minds of her listeners. The captious may regard this as an +unpleasing trait. Mrs. Yellam believed that it was more blessed to give +than to receive instruction. But, listening to Parson or Squire, she +imbibed such wisdom as fell from their august lips with an attention and +an intelligence which she exacted from others when she held the floor. +Her first duty, as hostess, was to see that her guest made a good tea, +the sort of tea, obviously, that she did not get at home. Fancy, +however, trifled with her food, being overtired, and positively refused +to eat cake. Mrs. Yellam said majestically:</p> + +<p>"My son tells me that you be a reader, Miss Broomfield."</p> + +<p>"I like books," replied Fancy. "I have not read many, Mrs. +Yellam."</p> + +<p>"I don't hold wi' reading," observed Mrs. Mucklow; "leastways, not +for pore folks as has no time to waste."</p> + +<p>This was a sly thrust at Susan Yellam, one of the few villagers who +took in and read a halfpenny paper.</p> + +<p>"Nor do I, Jane, for such as you means. Parson says you find in a +book just what you bring to 'un. There's folks in Nether-Applewhite as +brings nothing, nothing at all."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mucklow helped herself to a second slice of cake. Alfred lit his +pipe, hoping that Fancy would stand her ground when his mother opened +fire. Mrs. Yellam smiled graciously at her guest. She might be +"spindling," but she looked intelligent. Nevertheless, she distrusted +intelligence in very young women. Undisciplined, it might turn a modest +maid into a militant suffragette. From all such, Good Lord, deliver us! +A Nether-Applewhite girl, at the head of her class in school, had joined +the Salvation Army, and now banged a tambourine in Southampton. +Sometimes she wondered whether her own Lizzie mightn't have turned out a +handful. Such a possibility almost resigned her to the loss of a child +very precocious and with a strong will of her own. You will understand +the temperament and character of Susan Yellam better if you grasp the +fact that she endeavoured, habitually, to explain the mysterious +workings of Providence both to herself and to her neighbours. She had +been a devoted wife and mother, but, marking as she did the +disconcerting changes in young women of her acquaintance, she was forced +to the conclusion that many mothers profited by losing their prayers. +God Almighty knew best. She addressed Fancy again:</p> + +<p>"You live in Salisbury?"</p> + +<p>"I do, Mrs. Yellam."</p> + +<p>"My son tells me that there be many radicals in the town."</p> + +<p>"I daresay."</p> + +<p>"Be you true blue or yaller?"</p> + +<p>"I don't quite understand."</p> + +<p>"Be you Conservative or Radical?"</p> + +<p>"My father is a Liberal."</p> + +<p>Alfred looked uneasy. As a carrier, seeking business where he could +find it, and dealing impartially with all, he eschewed politics, and +deprecated the discussion of controversial themes. He would have been +amazed had a stranger informed him that his outlook on life was +panoramic in comparison with his mother's. Coming to the rescue of +Fancy, he said encouragingly:</p> + +<p>"So is Mr. Hamlin. He ain't the worse parson for that. As Mother +knows."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam nodded. A slight acerbity informed her voice as she +answered her son:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hamlin be a good man in parish, Alferd. 'Tis a square sound peg +in a square hole. And I say this for 'un. He don't talk politics wi' +me."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mucklow interpolated slily:</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! Parson be a wise man too."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam ignored this superbly. She looked at Alfred, but her +remarks were addressed to Fancy.</p> + +<p>"We all knows that Mr. Hamlin is Radical, and 'tis a sore point wi' +Squire and many others. I hold wi' the old ways, I do. I've no patience +wi' mischief-makers, a-settin' class agen class, stirrin' up strife, and +a-puttin' beggars on horseback. As for they jumped-up folks, sanding +their sugar yesterday an' to-day peacocking along pretending to be +quality, I fair hates the sight o' 'em. I wouldn't let a maid o' mine +take service wi' such. All this talk about equality be foolish and +contrary to Scrupture. There be gentle, and simple, rich and pore. And I +takes it that pore means more nor poverty—pore o' purse, pore o' +mind, pore o' body...."</p> + +<p>"And poor of soul," said Fancy.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam turned sharply. But there was no offence in the girl's +quiet voice. She lay back in her chair, listening attentively, obviously +interested. Mrs. Yellam nodded.</p> + +<p>"And pore o' soul. You don't look, Miss Broomfield, as if you was +ashamed o' service."</p> + +<p>"I ain't," said Fancy.</p> + +<p>"And I reckons you hold wi' me that folks should rest content in +their proper station o' life, eh?"</p> + +<p>Fancy answered politely:</p> + +<p>"I heard a sermon preached on that in our cathedral."</p> + +<p>"Did 'ee now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Till I heard that sermon, Mrs. Yellam, I was never quite able +to understand about doing my duty in that state of life unto which it +should please God to call me."</p> + +<p>"'Tis plain as plain to me," said Mrs. Yellam.</p> + +<p>Fancy hesitated. She desired to please Alfred's mother. She was quick +to realise how easily she might displease her. Being innately sincere, +she continued bravely:</p> + +<p>"It seemed to me to be wrong not to want to better oneself, to rise +higher...."</p> + +<p>As she paused, at a loss for words, Mrs. Mucklow interrupted with a +hard laugh.</p> + +<p>"Right or wrong, we all feels that way. Susan Yellam don't fancy +motors, but she'd like to ride in her carriage an' pair, and would too, +if so be as a convict uncle from Australia left her a fortin'."</p> + +<p>Alfred said uneasily:</p> + +<p>"Now, Aunt Jane, you know we ain't got convict uncles t'other side of +the world. What will Miss Broomfield be thinking of us?"</p> + +<p>To his astonishment and delight Fancy, not his mother, answered Mrs. +Mucklow.</p> + +<p>"But that is what the preacher made so plain and comfortsome. He said +that we were not to be content with the station to which we might be +born, but content in that unto which God might call us. He might call us +to a higher position, or to a lower. He might give carriages and horses, +or take them away."</p> + +<p>Her gentle voice, so persuasive, so sincere, carried with it an +extraordinary conviction. This simple explanation of a text familiar to +anybody who has learnt the Catechism became instantly adequate.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam, quite as sincere as Fancy, said quickly:</p> + +<p>"'Tis true. I never thought on't just that way. And 'tis fair, too. +Let God's Will be done, whate'er betide." Her face brightened. She said +almost joyously: "I shall ride in Alferd's new motor-'bus wi' proper +pride now, feeling sure that God A'mighty called me to do so."</p> + +<p>Alfred beamed. Fancy, he perceived, had "made a hit." It might be +prudent to take her away, and run no risks. If he and she resumed their +walk, the elder women would discuss her handsomely. A favourable first +impression might become indelible. He got up:</p> + +<p>"If you feel good and ready, Miss Broomfield, we might take the road +again."</p> + +<p>"She be tired out," declared Mrs. Yellam. "Anybody but a man'd see +that. You let Miss Broomfield bide along wi' us, Alferd; she can bide so +long as she's a mind to."</p> + +<p>This was disconcerting both for Alfred and Fancy. Happily for them, +Mrs. Mucklow espied an opening for contradiction. She exclaimed +derisively:</p> + +<p>"What a notion, askin' a young maid to bide along wi' two old women, +when every bird i' the trees is a-singing to his mate. But 'tis true, +Miss Broomfield be leg-weary, after climbing our hills. Take her down +river, Alferd. Do 'ee borrow the miller's boat."</p> + +<p>"That I will," said Alfred. "And glad he'll be to oblige me, too. +Come on, miss. 'Tis only a step to the mill."</p> + +<p>The pair vanished. The elder women looked at each other.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mucklow said slowly:</p> + +<p>"I be flambergasted, Susan."</p> + +<p>"So be I."</p> + +<p>"A very pretty, modest maid."</p> + +<p>"Alferd might do worse; I allows that."</p> + +<p>"So do I, Susan."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam hesitated, and then said slowly:</p> + +<p>"Alferd be fair daffy about her, that's a fact. Miffed as I may well +be at his choosin' a sweetheart who looks, seemin'ly, as if a puff o' +wind'd blow her bang out o' parish, I sticks to what I says, the boy +might ha' done worse."</p> + +<p>"Boy, indeed! He be a man."</p> + +<p>"'Tis true. And the multiplication-table, one might say, be made for +him rather than her. Alfred did tell me las' night that an auntie, on +her mother's side, bore twins twice. But as to that, we women be all in +God A'mighty's hands."</p> + +<p>"Then Alferd have told 'ee as he wants her?"</p> + +<p>"Don't 'ee repeat it. He have."</p> + +<p>"Then he'll get her. A big strong feller like that feels wonnerful +cuddlesome when he comes acrost they delicate, abstemious females. 'Tis +as sartain as we be sitting here that he'll put the question in his own +good time."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam sighed.</p> + +<p class="p5">"We be on the skirts o' great happenings. If 'tis the +Lard's Will, I have nothing to say."</p> + +<h3><a name="Ch4"></a>CHAPTER IV</h3> + +<h4>LE PAYS DU TENDRE</h4> + +<p class="p2">During the month that followed, Fancy was very happy. Time +stands still for true lovers. Past and future seem immensely remote; the +present, with its rosy hours, holds captive the happy prisoners. Alfred, +it is true, had not yet put his fate to more than the touch. He had +encircled a slender waist with a reassuringly strong arm—no more. +Being a Yellam and a carrier, he disdained haste. Fancy was well content +to stroll arm in crook towards the altar. Indeed, upon more than one +occasion she had checked Alfred when about to explode into speech. +Behind this procrastination lay a maiden's quickening sense of the +passion she had provoked. Men whom she regarded as "devils" had accused +her of being prim and cold. She happened to be neither, but it delighted +her to think that she inspired restraint in her lover, that he treated +her with a delicacy less rare in big strong men than is generally +supposed. His dry humour appealed to her, and the rude Doric of this +remote Wiltshire village brought many a smile to lips that grew redder +as kissing-time drew near. As yet Alfred had not kissed her, although he +had kissed the <i>others</i> many times. She gleaned this information +from her fellow-maids, who were very sympathetic and, apparently, more +impatient for a satisfactory consummation than the protagonists +themselves.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Alfred was learning how to drive a motor, and becoming +acquainted, very slowly but surely, with the "insides" of the great +beast. Already he regarded it as human, and of the same sex as Fancy. He +would say:</p> + +<p>"She was ramping and roaring yesterday afternoon and spitting black +smoke at me. But when I coax her, she purrs sweet as any pussy-cat."</p> + +<p>Lively chaff was exchanged between the lovers upon fortunes told by +real ladies, which turned out wrong. Fancy, however, still pinned her +faith to an old pack of cards in her possession, and to appease her +Alfred began to speak of himself as a soldier. When Fancy confided this +to Molly, she said maliciously: "Soldier, eh? Well, he ain't one o' the +'onward' sort, is he?" Fancy divined that Alfred would speak when the +motor-'bus was delivered; and there were moments when she asked herself +anxiously which of the two "hers" he loved the better.</p> + +<p>Toward the end of July, her mind was set at rest upon this point. +After the first walk to the downs, Alfred discovered that Fancy tired +easily, although her alert little mind remained active and +indefatigable. His own brains moved slowly; frequently he was unable to +follow the maid's divagations and speculations. For example, he had +asked her soberly what she intended to mean by the expression a "poor +soul," an expression used by him in an entirely different sense.</p> + +<p>"You came nigh upsetting Mother," he told her. "Dang me, if she +didn't think 'twas a biff at her."</p> + +<p>"I meant a lean soul."</p> + +<p>"Whatever may that be, dear?"</p> + +<p>Always, when these problems presented themselves for solution, Fancy +would hesitate and blush a little, which hugely delighted Alfred, who +set himself the pleasant task of framing questions during his drives to +and from Salisbury to be answered on the next Sunday.</p> + +<p>Having taken time to collect her powers of speech, Fancy said +solemnly:</p> + +<p>"Some rich people as well as poor have lean souls."</p> + +<p>"Rich people? Do you know any rich people?"</p> + +<p>"No, but David says so."</p> + +<p>"David? You don't mean David Mucklow? He's a pore soul, sure +enough."</p> + +<p>"I was speaking of King David, who wrote the Psalms. When people's +bodies wax fat with riches, their souls grow lean."</p> + +<p>Alfred nodded, feeling slightly uncomfortable. He weighed an honest +fifteen stone.</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! They wax so fat that they stick in the Narrer Gate?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I suppose so."</p> + +<p>Alfred considered this, frowning. Then his face brightened.</p> + +<p>"I see you slipping through that Gate like a lozenge."</p> + +<p>"Oh, please don't say that! 'Tis a figure of speech, Mr. Yellam. Thin +people may have lean souls. I sometimes think that my soul is lean, when +I lie awake thinking of—of——"</p> + +<p>"Of what, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Of myself, and what I want for myself."</p> + +<p>"What do you want?"</p> + +<p>"Lots and lots of things."</p> + +<p>She evaded further questions, arousing a keener curiosity. Her +elusiveness frightened him. He couldn't understand anybody lying awake +after an honest day's toil. He tried to picture her lying sleepless, +with her luminous eyes gazing into the darkness. Did she think of him? +Did she really want him as he wanted her? The mere thought of her frail +little body aroused a strange reverence. His mother was right. A puff of +wind would blow her out of parish, blow her out of sight, blow her bang +through the Narrow Gate. And feeling this, with the stabbing, +ever-recurring reflection that she was the least fleshly of mortal women +whom he knew, he would not willingly have added half a cubit to her +stature or half a pound to her weight. In his eyes, she was just +right.</p> + +<p>Upon a never-to-be-forgotten Sunday, much rain had fallen. Fancy, +who, like most servants, wore too thin shoes, perpetrated a mild +joke:</p> + +<p>"'Twill be dryer on the river than on land, Alfred."</p> + +<p>For some time they had called each other by their Christian +names.</p> + +<p>"You're right, Fancy."</p> + +<p>The motor-'bus, gloriously red-and-yellow, shining like a sunset, had +been brought homealong the night before. Alfred shewed it to Fancy, +expatiating upon its superlative merits and beauties till Fancy's +jealousy was kindled afresh. Oddly enough, urban though the girl was and +advanced in her ideas, she felt as Mrs. Yellam did about machinery. +Whirring wheels and roarings and rampings aroused queer qualms in her. +Alfred took out the heavy silver watch which had belonged to his father, +and balanced it on the radiator. Then he proceeded to "race" the engine, +although he had been advised not to do so. The watch never quivered, but +Fancy did. She put her hands to her small ears, and ejaculated:</p> + +<p>"O-h-h!"</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>When the engine was purring gently, Fancy confessed that noise upset +her. Pistols, for example, discharged suddenly in places of +entertainment, made her jump. Alfred said derisively:</p> + +<p>"What a rare wife for a soldier!"</p> + +<p>"I thought 'twas going to explode, yes, I did."</p> + +<p>"Not she. 'Tis a beautiful 'bus, and, maybe, she'll carry me and +mine"—he glanced at her now pensive face—"to fame and +fortune."</p> + +<p>With this hope animating his heart and voice, Alfred spoke at length, +and with impressive deliberation, mapping out a golden future. Already +he had made arrangements to transport passengers to Salisbury, likely +boys and girls anxious to attend the High School. He predicted an +ever-increasing traffic and the almost immediate necessity of running +two 'buses and engaging an assistant.</p> + +<p>"Maybe such a job would suit a young woman I know, Miss Fancy +Broomfield."</p> + +<p>Fancy hastened to assure him that such ambitions soared high above +her disabilities. Alfred continued, waxing very eloquent, letting loose +amazing phrases, setting forth prospects which must please and allure +his listener, talking at her so persistently that Fancy became +frightened.</p> + +<p>"Alfred," she said, entreatingly, "don't make so sure of things."</p> + +<p>"'Tis in my hand."</p> + +<p>"I mind poor Father's plans, and that makes me nervous when you race +on so."</p> + +<p>"What about his plans?"</p> + +<p>"He'd a nice business, shoeing the carriage horses of the quality. He +never did fancy rough work. But it went to bits, when motoring came in. +That lay back of his poor health. We never know what'll happen."</p> + +<p>"I say we do. God Almighty helps them as helps themselves. I'm +helping myself to a large spoonful, but I can down it, and more +too."</p> + +<p>Undeterred and undismayed by her protestations, he rushed on gaily, +as if driving his 'bus at excess speed. To Fancy he seemed to be +whirling out of sight altogether. Nevertheless she guessed that this +nerve-racking, soul-jolting excursion into the future was presented as a +joy-ride for her.</p> + +<p>"If you ain't careful," she warned him, "you'll fetch up in +Buckingham Palace."</p> + +<p>At this derisive quip, he jammed on brakes, regaining her sympathy +with the grim remark:</p> + +<p>"Or in a ditch. You're right, my girl. 'Tis a fool as toots his own +horn. Let's say good-bye to the old van."</p> + +<p>The van stood derelict at the back of the shed; the stout horses had +been sold at a fair price. Alfred locked up the door of the shed and +glanced dubiously at the grey skies. The afternoon promised fine +weather, but the grass in the park was sopping. Being a true Yellam, +Alfred had made elaborate plans; he had chosen the spot where he meant +to propose, a bosky nook in one of the smaller plantations, hard by a +tiny stream, where ferns grew luxuriantly. In this sanctuary Fancy might +be persuaded to take off her hat and gloves. Then, after due +preliminaries, the man would have his way with the maid. He felt full of +poetry, and quite incapable of expressing it.</p> + +<p>"Wet as water it be underfoot," he growled.</p> + +<p>And then Fancy made her small joke. Alfred jumped at the suggestion. +Twenty minutes later, they were floating upon the quiet bosom of the +Avon, where the river widened above the mill.</p> + +<p>"Perfectly lovely," murmured Fancy.</p> + +<p>Alfred nodded, with a heart too full for speech. The sight of his red +face amused the maid. She knew well enough what was simmering beneath a +too stolid exterior. He pulled up-stream with short, jerky strokes, +effective but not elegant. His jacket lay across Fancy's knees, a +protection against splashings. White shirt-sleeves bulged with big +muscles. They were heading for a small willow-covered eyot, +really—as Alfred reflected—a more secluded spot than the +bosky dell. He could push the boat through the reeds and bulrushes and +find snug harbourage under the willows.</p> + +<p>He did so.</p> + +<p>Secure from prying eyes, they sat together, side by side, at the +bottom of the boat. Alfred slipped an arm round Fancy's waist, and +pressed her to him. He wondered whether she would remain cool and calm, +when the burning question was asked. With huge satisfaction he noticed +that her bosom just heaved beneath her thin blouse. On this blouse +rested a tiny gold locket which held the portrait of her sailor brother. +Alfred had never seen this locket palpitate before. His own heart +thumped almost indecorously at the sight. Stealing a glance at her face, +he saw that she was blushing. The silence was so delicious that he hated +to break it—and didn't. Certain carefully-prepared phrases whirled +out of his mind.</p> + +<p>"My!" exclaimed Fancy.</p> + +<p>"What is it, dear?"</p> + +<p>"A big water-rat!"</p> + +<p>"So 'tis. I don't blame him for wishing to have a look at you."</p> + +<p>The rat behaved charmingly, peering down at them from the bank, ready +to dive into his hole, if the trespassers upon his domain moved.</p> + +<p>"He ain't afraid," said Alfred; "but I am."</p> + +<p>Fancy said hastily:</p> + +<p>"Don't move! What bright eyes he has, to be sure."</p> + +<p>"No brighter than others I know."</p> + +<p>"Shush-h-h! There! He's gone. I wanted to see him stroke his +whiskers. I wonder whether he be a gentleman rat or a lady rat?"</p> + +<p>This happy remark provided a new opening. Alfred said with +authority:</p> + +<p>"He's a buck rat. He didn't feel frightened, but I reckon he'd told +his missis and the little 'uns that he'd just take a squint at a notable +couple, and come back. I'll wager a new hat, he's telling 'em a fine +tale."</p> + +<p>"For all you know he may be an old bachelor."</p> + +<p>"Ah! Rats are wiser than we. And Nature is kinder to them. 'Tis no +big business for them to get to house-keeping. When they're good and +ready, they go at it—slam bang."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Animals don't want much."</p> + +<p>Alfred pressed her a little closer.</p> + +<p>"Take off hat and gloves, Fancy."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"'Tis a notion I have."</p> + +<p>She smiled faintly, and obeyed. Alfred eyed the hat, a simple affair, +home-made. The gloves were of white silkette. Everything she wore seemed +to be part of herself, dainty, ephemeral, easily crushed and soiled.</p> + +<p>"Put your dear head on my shoulder. 'Twill be more cosy."</p> + +<p>She hesitated, and did so. Her palely-pink cheek lay close to his +lips. He said solemnly:</p> + +<p>"I mind what you said, Fancy, about lying awake nights, wanting lots +and lots of things. Tell me about the things you want."</p> + +<p>"I c-c-can't."</p> + +<p>Her voice had sunk to an attenuated whisper. He realised that she was +trembling, and his own pulses throbbed with hers. He continued, more +fluently, pressing her tighter to him:</p> + +<p>"Are you wanting grand things?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. Whatever made you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Because, dear, there is something grand about you. It mazes me, when +I think on't in my everyday way. You're Parson's parlourmaid, thank the +Lord! and I'm a plain carrier, with no book-learning and rough manners. +'Tis like this, Fancy. I'm of the earth, and you're a lil' angel. +'Twouldn't surprise me to find wings growing on your dear back."</p> + +<p>He touched her back gently, to make sure. It was satisfactory to find +that wings, as yet, had not sprouted.</p> + +<p>"I'm only a silly girl, Alfred."</p> + +<p>He repeated obstinately:</p> + +<p>"You're grand. I reckon 'tis your soul which comes nigh to busting +your dinky body. Now, Fancy, what do you think about, nights?"</p> + +<p>Direct in all things, it never occurred to Alfred that a modest girl +might shrink from answering such a question in the sincere spirit which +put it. She smiled sweetly:</p> + +<p>"When we talked about that, Alfred, I was thinking amongst other +things of...."</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear?"</p> + +<p>"That hat." She pointed a slim finger at it. "I wanted that hat ever +so, because I saw one very like it on the pretty head of Mrs. Lionel +Pomfret. I wrote a long letter to Father, telling him where to buy the +straw and the trimmings. You like it, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I never saw a prettier hat, but I like best the head as bobs under +it."</p> + +<p>"It cost me four-and-eight; not a penny more."</p> + +<p>"Wonderful you be with your needle. Go on, Fancy. I reckon that hats +ain't all you think about."</p> + +<p>"I think about Willie, tossing in his great ship."</p> + +<p>A consuming envy of Willie, the sailor brother, assailed Alfred, but +no suitable phrase occurred to him. Fancy continued:</p> + +<p>"Most of the time, Alfred, my thoughts are with poor Father. He does +miss me."</p> + +<p>"I'll be bound he does."</p> + +<p>"He enjoys such miserable health. He's a real farrier, doctors horses +as well as shoes 'em. And he takes his own medicine. I used to water it +down, unbeknown to him."</p> + +<p>"Horse medicine? That's moving stuff. Looks as if your thoughts, +dear, never rambled far from the family."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, they do. I think a lot, Alfred, about the future."</p> + +<p>This was more encouraging.</p> + +<p>"So do I; so do I."</p> + +<p>"If anything happened to Father or Willie, where would I be?"</p> + +<p>Alfred replied happily:</p> + +<p>"I don't know where you would be, but I can tell you where you might +be."</p> + +<p>His eager voice beguiled her, but she resisted its pleading.</p> + +<p>"I might be almost alone in the world. My two sisters are married. +They live in small houses. There wouldn't be room for me. I like this +place, but, oh, dear! some places be awful. It's selfish to think of +myself, but I can't help it."</p> + +<p>"'Tis a heartsome thing to think about. I think about you, Fancy, +when I drive slow along our roads. You fill my mind, you do."</p> + +<p>He hoped fervently that she would say what he wanted and confess +outright that she let some of her thoughts dwell on him. But again the +poor fellow was grievously disappointed. She murmured confusedly:</p> + +<p>"How funny!"</p> + +<p>"Funny be damned!"</p> + +<p>"Alfred——!"</p> + +<p>"I don't care. I'm moved as if I'd taken your father's horse +medicine. You're raking me up with a small tooth-comb. If I think of you +all the time, 'twould seem fair that you'd think of me some of the +time."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I do."</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! That's better. We're coming to grips."</p> + +<p>As if contradicting this, the aggravating witch raised her head. +Alfred grew desperate. Had he been browsing in a fool's paradise? The +thought palsied speech. He spoke angrily:</p> + +<p>"I see how 'tis. You lie awake shaking with laughter, thinking what I +fool I am."</p> + +<p>"Gracious! If you talk like that, I shall think so."</p> + +<p>"I am a fool about you. 'Tis a fact. I ain't ashamed on't."</p> + +<p>"Folks say...." She hesitated; her eyes twinkled demurely, but he +couldn't see them.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do folks say?"</p> + +<p>"That you're a oner with girls, on and off like."</p> + +<p>"On and off? You're throwing big Eliza at my head. If I was a true +soldier man, always bragging about my victorious marches with women, I +might tell you 'twas t'other way about. Being only a timorsome carrier, +and a lover of God Almighty's truth, I say this. Eliza scairt the +gizzard out of me, she did. I fair ran away from her audacious, +ungenteel attacks. Now you have it."</p> + +<p>Fancy laughed. Alfred fumed on, beside himself with love and +impatience.</p> + +<p>"I've walked out with many maids, some not so maidenly as might be. +I'm a picker and chooser, getting that much sense from my mother. I +never walked long with any of 'em. If you'd happened along fifteen years +ago, when the first petticoat hit me in eye, I'd have remained true and +faithful to you—so help me God!"</p> + +<p>She remained silent, twisting her fingers. He said hoarsely:</p> + +<p>"I want you desperately for my wife, Fancy Broomfield. And you know +it, being a clever maid. Now—don't you want me?"</p> + +<p>He felt her body relaxing, almost slipping from him. Then, very +slowly, she lifted her eyes to his, and he read in their luminous depths +the blessed answer which her quivering lips withheld.</p> + +<p>He kissed her reverently and tenderly.</p> + +<p>To his surprise and delight, she kissed him, clinging to him, and +whispering pantingly:</p> + +<p>"You'll be kind to me, Alfred; I know you will. I'm such a poor wife +for the likes of you. Your mother thinks so, and your Aunt Jane."</p> + +<p>"You can twist them round your lil' finger."</p> + +<p>"I believe you love your motor-'bus more than me."</p> + +<p>"What a notion! Now I'm going to kiss such foolishness out of you. If +it ain't gone when I've given you the first big dose, why, I must begin +all over again."</p> + +<p>The river lapped its approval against the sides of the old boat. A +sedge warbler looked on with his tiny head on one side. The tall reeds +nodded. The sun peeped from behind a cloud and shot a golden shaft upon +the pair. Why do we think of the orbéd maiden, the Moon, as being kinder +to lovers than the great god of day, which warms and fructifies? Upon +this artless pair he poured generously his vivifying beams. Suddenly the +willows sparkled with diamonds, the grey river became a sheet of silver, +the sedge warbler fluted his hymeneal note, and other warblers joined in +the chorus.</p> + +<p>And, far away, in a great palace, men were bending frowning brows +over a vast war-map, gesticulating fiercely, plotting and planning +Armageddon.</p> + +<p class="p5">But the lovers had their hour.</p> + +<h3><a name="Ch5"></a>CHAPTER V</h3> + +<h4>UNCLE</h4> + +<p class="p2">Everybody in Nether-Applewhite called Habakkuk Mucklow +Uncle.</p> + +<p>In all villages remote from what we call civilisation there may be +found men like him, loose-limbed, loose-tongued, easy, pleasure-loving, +quick-witted in what concerns others, strangely slow to grapple with +their own opportunities, always at the mercy of their wives and genially +dependent upon them. Uncle was the best thatcher in the countryside. He +might have been busy all the time, but it was known that he refused +disdainfully the more primitive forms of his work; he never touched +barns or stacks. On the other hand, he was artistically eager to tackle +the decorative thatching which is still to be found in Wiltshire. +Although he was older than his sister, Mrs. Yellam, and past sixty, he +still ran afoot with the hounds, and earned handsome tips as an +independent harbourer of deer. During many years, also, he had been +"beater" to old Captain Davenant, who took out a Forest License from the +Crown which afforded him three days' rough shooting a week, from October +till the end of January. Nobody, in those parts, knew the northern half +of the New Forest better than Habakkuk Mucklow.</p> + +<p>Like all his family, he was an upstanding fellow, a six-footer, and +finely proportioned, with a cheerful red face, cleanly-shaven save for a +wisp of grey whisker which he sported high on his cheek after the +fashion adopted by the Iron Duke, whom Habakkuk venerated as the +greatest of Englishmen. Had you told him that his hero came from +Ireland, he would not have believed it.</p> + +<p>Uncle loved creature comforts, and could carry more strong ale +without showing it than any man in the parish. Very wisely he had +married Jane Rockley who, in her time, had served a long apprenticeship +at Pomfret Court as scullery-maid and then kitchen-maid, becoming, +finally, cook in that handsome establishment. Jane Mucklow ruled +Habakkuk through his stomach, and he was well aware of this, and +rebelled constantly against what he considered to be an abuse of +power.</p> + +<p>"Womenfolk," he would remark, "don't wage honourable warfare. They +hits below the belt, they do. When my old 'ooman gets miffed wi' me, I +notices a tremenjous difference in my victuals."</p> + +<p>Uncle had pipeclay in his marrow. During his hot youth he had taken +the Queen's shilling after a poaching affair, and served some five years +with the colours of the county regiment. He had not seen active service, +but he allowed strangers to believe that he was a great warrior. +Possibly, the discipline of the parade ground had made him swear to take +life easily for the rest of his days.</p> + +<p>Captain Davenant spoke of him as a "character." The word "card" was +not known in Nether-Applewhite.</p> + +<p>Uncle loved two persons nearly as much as himself—his sister, +Susan, and his nephew, Alfred. When the news of Alfred's engagement +became known to him, he expressed great interest and pleasure, drinking +the health of prospective groom and bride in much ale and cider. Alfred +brought the blushing Fancy to Uncle's cottage, and received the +felicitations which the good looks of the young woman warranted.</p> + +<p>Uncle had sentimental views about the married state not shared by his +wife. As he kissed Fancy, he said solemnly:</p> + +<p>"'Tis a great venture. We all likes a dip into the lucky bag. And it +do seem to me, Alferd, as you've pulled a prize."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mucklow sniffed. She, too, kissed Fancy, but uttered a warning +note:</p> + +<p>"Marriage ain't what some folks crack it up to be, my girl. But I've +not a word agen courtship. Your uncle, as is to be, follered me about +like a dog for three years, and I own up truthful 'twas the happiest +time o' my life."</p> + +<p>Uncle laughed cheerily.</p> + +<p>"I be your old dog still, Jane, and allers ready for a bone."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mucklow nodded, looking whimsically at Fancy.</p> + +<p>"You hear that, my girl? 'Tis the bone they look for. A man's heart +lies in his stomach. Feed up Alferd so long as he behaves himself. I +says nothing about the power o' prayer, seein' as generally speaking my +most powerful prayers ain't been answered as I could wish, but fasting +do wonnerful work, especially wi' men."</p> + +<p>Uncle laughed again.</p> + +<p>Marriage, however, seemed reasonably remote. Fancy wished to "make +good" in her new place. Alfred, very comfortable at home, intended to +work hard for a year at least, laying the solid foundations of a +business likely to be bigger than he had ever dreamed it to be. Mrs. +Yellam, moreover, had spoken plainly and sensibly to her son.</p> + +<p>"She be a sweet maid, Alferd, but tarribly spindlin', a slip o' +muslin, and young for her years."</p> + +<p>"Twenty-two, Mother."</p> + +<p>"I knows that. And I minds that her mother died, pore soul, when +Fancy was born. A bottle-baby; and I never did hold wi' that. Don't 'ee +look so glum. She be plumper a'ready. Pa'son give his maids good plain +food, and our air blowing over downs be better nor strong ale for such +as she."</p> + +<p>"You do love her, Mother?"</p> + +<p>"In course I do, and I'm doing my duty by her and you when I tells +'ee that she ain't marriage-ripe, nor likely to be for many months to +come. If I was only thinking o' myself, my son, I'd be laying out your +wedding sheets this day. Squire and me has many things in common, and +this afore all: we likes to see red-cheeked little 'uns coming on."</p> + +<p>"You're a wonderful, farseeing woman. Fair aching I am for her, the +pretty dear, but wait we must for matrimonial joys, and wait we shall. +That's certain."</p> + +<p>To his surprise, she laid her strong hands upon his shoulder and +kissed him solemnly: demonstrations rare indeed with her, which provoked +surprise.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mother!"</p> + +<p>She said slowly:</p> + +<p>"You be all I have, Alferd, and a son to be proud of as never was. I +be farseein'. 'Tis a gift o' God. Biding for happiness, in the right +Christian spirit, generally brings it, but not allers, not allers."</p> + +<p>With a sigh she turned to her daily work, and he went, thoughtfully, +to his.</p> + +<p>July glided away peacefully. Wars and rumours of wars reached few +ears in Nether-Applewhite. The possibility of civil war in Ireland +disturbed Mr. Hamlin and provoked to wrath Sir Geoffrey Pomfret; the +villagers remained blandly indifferent to anything outside the sphere of +their own interests and activities.</p> + +<p>With the one exception of Uncle.</p> + +<p>Perhaps that old war-horse—for so he deemed himself to +be—nosed from afar the coming battles. More than likely, he picked +up chance words dropped by Captain Davenant, once a Guardsman, who +rented two miles of fishing on the Avon, preserves under Uncle's +watchful eye. The Captain predicted war with Germany as inevitable. +Uncle, like his wife, could be trusted to repeat what he heard with +sundry additions peculiarly his own. In the ale-house, he told his +cronies what he knew and much more.</p> + +<p>"'Twill be a nice bloody how-dy-do; and it mads me to think that +time, as the saying goes, have laid me by the heels. The Kayser be bent +on the job, and have been ever since they ancient days, which I recalls +right well, when he licked the Frenchies. A rare doin' he give 'em, to +be sure."</p> + +<p>An old gaffer answered promptly, voicing, unwittingly, the general +opinion:</p> + +<p>"'Tain't none of our affair. I be sick to my stomach wi' such +flustratious talk. We English be the mightiest people on earth because +we minds our own business. I don't think nothing o' foreigners; they be, +one and all, so wonderful peevish."</p> + +<p>Uncle smiled genially.</p> + +<p>"Minds our own business, do us? I bain't so cocky-sure o' that, old +friend. Speaking up for myself, and bigger fools have spoken in this +ale-house, I be sartain sure that good money comes my way through +minding other folks' business. I was never one to think of myself."</p> + +<p>"What a tale!"</p> + +<p>"The Captain be a dry old stick, but cracklin' wi' ripe wisdom, as I +be. And he's seen the world, as I have. Stay-at-home folk never look +further than their back-yards. I takes a very wide view. Me and Lord +Roberts have sized up this yere Kayser for what he be, a very bumptious, +slambang, bold pirate, a Grab-all as must be put in his place by we. And +why? Because 'tis our duty and privilege to keep proper order. We had to +down Krooger." He trolled out lustily:</p> + +<div class="poem"> + <span class="i1">"Good old Krooger's dead.</span> + <span class="i2">He cut 'is throat</span> + <span class="i2">Wi' a piece o' soap.</span> + <span class="i2">Good old Krooger's dead."</span> +</div> + +<p>"I'll drink one more glass o' ale afore I go homealong. Yes, my +respectable, church-goin' friends, we be on the eve o' such battles as +never was. And I couldn't hold up head amongst proper men, if I thought +old England'd keep out o' the scrap. I practises what I preaches. I've +three big sons—fair whoppers. If wanted, I'll see to it that they +be amongst the first to go, and wi' all my honest, generous soul I wish +I could go along wi' en."</p> + +<p>The publican, William Saint, who served the ale, said sharply:</p> + +<p>"Your sons, Uncle, may have something to say about that."</p> + +<p>Uncle stared at him disdainfully. William Saint was of +Nether-Applewhite, but he had begun a prosperous career as a footman at +Pomfret Court. Uncle despised lackeys in his heart. And he detested what +he termed "quality talk" from people who were not quality. William Saint +spoke mincingly, which indicated cant and prosperity. He was accused, +not without reason, of holding radical views, although, being a +time-server, he voted Conservative in accordance with the Squire's +wishes. Nevertheless, Saint was not a man to be ignored or taken +lightly. His tavern, the <i>Sir John Barleycorn</i>, did not engross all +his activities. He had many small irons in the fire, bought and sold +horses, dealt in corn and hay, and farmed a few acres of land. In +appearance, he somewhat resembled Napoleon: the same massive jaw, the +thin lips, the pale complexion and brooding brow. Under his management a +small ale-house was becoming a rival of the principal inn, the +<i>Pomfret Arms</i>. He catered for a better class of customer than his +predecessor. And he saw possibilities in a tavern, happily situated in +the middle of the village, overlooking the Avon, a comfortable house of +call, clean outwardly and within, heavily-thatched, picturesque enough +to catch the eye and beguile the fancy of the ubiquitous motorist.</p> + +<p>Uncle drank his ale before he answered Saint. The mighty draught +restored his good-humour.</p> + +<p>"May be. I listens to all men, and suffers fools and knaves as gladly +as King Solomon. The Kayser be spoiling for a big fight wi' we. You be +on the side o' peace, William Saint, and there's many to keep 'ee +company. I don't blame 'ee. 'Tis your ignorance. The country be full o' +just such men as you, wi' their eyes glued to their own tills, and +counters, mindin' their own business, pore souls! and puffed up wi' +conceit." He paused and concluded impressively: "We be tee-totally +unprepared, and there be millions over yonder a-waiting and a-longing to +stick us like so many fat hogs. I wish 'ee, one and all, +good-night."</p> + +<p>Uncle cocked his bowler—a genuine Billy Coke hat, with Lock's +historical name on a much-soiled lining (the bowler had belonged to +Captain Davenant)—at a martial angle, and strode to his cottage, +whistling Garryowen. When out with the fox-hounds, he wore a stained red +coat, another sometime hartog of the Captain's, surmounting well-cut +breeches and gaiters, once again part of a generous employer's wardrobe. +He was wearing the breeches and gaiters to-day, but his mind had +wandered from sport to war. Tremendous military ardour possessed him. By +the luck of things, on leaving the ale-house, he encountered Lionel +Pomfret returning from fishing. Lionel had a great affection for Uncle, +although he knew him to be a poacher on the sly. Uncle hailed him with +respectful geniality, reasonably assured that five minutes' talk with +t'young Squire meant more war news and a shining half-crown. On such +occasions he employed a formula, rarely known to fail to open either +hearts or purses.</p> + +<p>"How well 'ee look, Master Lionel! And Lard bless 'ee, I was thinkin' +of 'ee as you turned carner. Any fish this fine evening?"</p> + +<p>Lionel Pomfret opened his creel and displayed a nice brace and a +half. But Uncle was in no mood to talk of trout. He had more notable +fish to fry.</p> + +<p>"What be they Frenchies doing, sir?"</p> + +<p>Lionel answered gravely:</p> + +<p>"I hear that twenty thousand Germans have been repulsed at Nancy, but +I don't believe it, Uncle."</p> + +<p>"No more don't I, Master Lionel. These be troublous times."</p> + +<p>Lionel nodded.</p> + +<p>"Be we coming in?"</p> + +<p>"Damn it, we can't keep out."</p> + +<p>"What I says exzactly. The Rads be kickin' up a fine +hullabaloo—a very dirty, timorsome lot. And bound to crawl down +the pole bimeby."</p> + +<p>"France is invaded," said Lionel.</p> + +<p>"Quick work, sir."</p> + +<p>"Quick? After forty years' elaborate preparation? This thing is +horribly serious, Uncle. I'm wondering what they think about it in the +village."</p> + +<p>"I can tell 'ee, no man better. 'Tis none o' their business, they +thinks. Such shameless ignerunce makes wiser folk value their wisdom. I +happened into the <i>Sir John Barleycorn</i> just afore seein' you, sir. +I'd a matter o' business wi' William Saint."</p> + +<p>Not for wealth untold would Uncle have admitted that he visited an +ale-house to drink ale. Lionel smiled. He knew his man.</p> + +<p>"Very thirsty evening, too, Uncle."</p> + +<p>"I bain't denying that, Master Lionel. And I did take a glass o' what +they calls ale there for the good o' the house. We fell to talkin'. I +made bold to tell 'em what me and Lord Roberts felt about that there +Kayser. And it miffed 'em. I could see that. And the less they pore +souls says the more they thinks. They be chewin' my cud now. But what do +'ee really think, sir?"</p> + +<p>Lionel laughed, not wholeheartedly. He was a six months' +bridegroom.</p> + +<p>"I think, Uncle, that inside of a fortnight I shall be at my depot in +Winchester, drilling recruits."</p> + +<p>"Lard save us! And you wi' so young and be-utiful a wife!"</p> + +<p>"Sir Geoffrey thinks as I do. There is going to be a terrific strain +on the manhood of this country. Will it stand that strain?"</p> + +<p>"I thinks it will, Master Lionel, so be as they chin-wobblin' +politicians keeps their dirty fingers out o' pie. I'd like to march wi' +'ee to Winchester, and overseas, too, by Jo'!"</p> + +<p>Lionel nodded. A minute later Uncle strode on his way with the +expected half-crown snug in his breeches' pocket. He told himself that +he had earned it.</p> + +<p>When he reached his cottage, he found George, the youngest of his +three sons, just back from the woods, where he worked as a hurdler at +this time of year. The other sons were married and established in +cottages of their own. Jane Mucklow was busy preparing the eight o'clock +hot supper. An agreeable odour filled the kitchen. Uncle kicked the dust +off his boots and entered the house, with George at his heels. The good +smell of baked pork provoked, as usual, a pleasant word. Indeed, +Habakkuk Mucklow had discovered very early in life that soft words do +butter parsnips.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mother, you looks very sanitary, and what a colour!"</p> + +<p>"Got, as you well knows, from stewin' over a fire. Been painting your +nose wi' ale, or worse, I reckons."</p> + +<p>Uncle stroked his nose.</p> + +<p>"'Tis a very handsome feature, Jane, and allers a true friend to your +good cookin'. I met Master Lionel in village street, and let 'un know +what a wise man was thinking about the times. Agreed wi' every word, he +did. I told 'un he'd be called to jine up again in Winchester inside o' +fortnit. Like as not Garge here'll be wearin' out shoe-leather in some +barrack-yard afore he's much older."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mucklow stared at him, paralysed by astonishment. George, being +the most interested party, said heavily:</p> + +<p>"Not if I knows meself."</p> + +<p>"I say, Garge, as you'll enlist if they want 'ee."</p> + +<p>"They won't want the likes o' me."</p> + +<p>Jane Mucklow said sharply:</p> + +<p>"Don't you go upsettin' the boy wi' your ridiculous war-talk, Father. +He come nigh on leavin' us to freeze to death in Canady. Why should we +fight to save they Frenchies?"</p> + +<p>Uncle grinned and chuckled.</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! I've a notion about that. I told 'un to the old Captain, and +he said 'twas a very notable remark. Fight we shall and must to save our +own souls and bodies."</p> + +<p>George opened a wide mouth; his mother laughed scornfully.</p> + +<p>"Never heard o' the British Fleet, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>Uncle smiled. Such a smile might have been seen upon the face of +Ulysses after his wanderings, when Penelope asked foolish question.</p> + +<p>"Mother, I've seen they mighty ships o' war, which is what you can't +brag on. But more'n our Fleet were wanted afore, in the days o' +Bonaparty, and will be again. You mind that bit o' pork, and leave young +Garge to me."</p> + +<p>He gave undivided attention to George; the pleasant smile faded from +his face. His likeness to his sister came out.</p> + +<p>"Be you afeard, Garge?"</p> + +<p>George pulled himself together.</p> + +<p>"I be bold as brass, except wi' maids."</p> + +<p>"That any son o' mine should own up to that! Afeard wi' maids! What a +gert booby! I be afeard <i>for</i> maids, if so be as they Proosians +come rampin' into France. And 'tis true they be over the line +a'ready."</p> + +<p>"How do 'ee know that?" asked his wife.</p> + +<p>"Never you mind, Mother. I picks up my information as you does, here +and there. I told Master Lionel as how France was invaded, and he gave +me half-a-crown, he did."</p> + +<p>Uncle produced the half-crown as confirmation strong. George was much +impressed.</p> + +<p>"You earns money in wondersome ways, Father."</p> + +<p>"I do. Now, Garge, I tell 'ee, fair and square, the likes o' you'll +be wanted bad, and, mark my words, my lad, if you don't go willin' +they'll take 'ee whether or no. I forgot to mention it to Master Lionel, +but talk o' conscription be in the air."</p> + +<p>"Stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Mucklow.</p> + +<p>Uncle, fully alive to the advantage of leaving people to chew the cud +of his wisdom, went outside to smoke a pipe before supper. He walked +down the village street, carrying a high head and assuming the port of +Mars. Bugles sounded in his ears, and the steady tramp of marching men. +He had picked up the significant and terrifying word "conscription" from +Captain Davenant, who asked for nothing better. Uncle had agreed with +the Captain heartily, being very sensible of what drill had accomplished +for himself, much as he hated it at the time. He thought of George as +clay to the hand of a sergeant, not as cannon fodder. "Afeard wi' +maids!" What a confession!</p> + +<p>He was not in the mood to engage others in talk, lumping all his +neighbours together as a flock of silly snivelling sheep, sadly in need +of a shepherd. For the first time in his life he paid the penalty of +being a prophet, and felt strangely alone and unhonoured.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he bethought him of his sister Susan. He had half-an-hour to +spare before supper. She would be busy in her kitchen, but never too +busy to exchange a word with him. Alfred would be still on the road. He +strode along more briskly. Susan was the one person living with whom +Uncle was really himself, at best or worst a very simple, +straightforward soul. He had never posed before her and—what a +tribute to her character!—in her rather austere presence he +avoided those whimsical perversions of the truth which so exasperated +his wife. To a woman of brains he bowed the knee. Also, he was +gratefully aware of Susan's enduring affection for him.</p> + +<p>He wondered how she would take his news, for news it would be, that +the Squire and Master Lionel were grimly confronting the certainty of +England declaring war upon Germany. Susan read her <i>Daily Mail</i>, +but not with any great faith in what newspaper men said. Having a +singularly retentive memory, she prided herself upon collating +contradictory statements made by irresponsible writers. Such critical +powers were not exercised upon the Bible. Apparent discrepancies in the +Holy Book could be, and were (so she held) reconciled by surpliced +commentators.</p> + +<p>Susan, so Uncle reflected, would deal out strong doses of +commonsense, which her brother, after due absorption, could in his turn +distribute generously amongst the weak-kneed. There were moments when +pity for his fellow-men overbrimmed in Uncle's heart, and filled him +with an amorphous, inherent melancholy. He could rise to giddy heights +of mirth and fall from them into unplumbed depths of depression. Susan, +as he knew, stood solidly between these extremes.</p> + +<p>He was in the melancholy mood when he entered her kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Well, Susan, there be a nice bit o' pork frizzlin' in our oven, but +I be in sore need o' spiritual nourishment."</p> + +<p>"Whatever ails 'ee, Habakkuk?"</p> + +<p>"'Tis the crool thought o' weepin' maids and mothers throughout the +land, as robs me o' my appetite."</p> + +<p>For the moment Uncle spoke with absolute sincerity. The thought of a +nation in mourning had not entered his mind till he crossed the +threshold of the Yellam cottage. But he accepted it as illuminating. +And, instantly, his imagination draped the idea in deepest crêpe.</p> + +<p>"Be you speaking o' French maids and mothers?"</p> + +<p>"Being the man I am, I counts 'em all in wi' us. 'Tis cut-and-dried, +as the saying goes. Old England takes the field."</p> + +<p>Susan Yellam said drily:</p> + +<p>"Old England takes the field. Well, dearie, you take a chair and tell +us all about it."</p> + +<p>Incredulity was written plain upon her face. Uncle opened fire at +point-blank range.</p> + +<p>"Sir Gaffrey says so, Susan. Master Lionel be hot-foot for +Winchester, to drill recruities."</p> + +<p>The shot went home. Mrs. Yellam's florid face paled. She had +deliberately put from her the dreadful possibility. But if Sir Geoffrey +said so, it was so. The blood left her face, because her first thought +had been for the gracious lady of the Manor, and the young wife, two +women very dear to her. As the colour came back to her cheeks, she +reflected that she, personally, was not involved in these fearful +issues. Mr. Lionel was a professional soldier. Wife or no wife, a +Pomfret would do his duty. England's army might have to fight side by +side with the French, and England's army was invincible.</p> + +<p>She said gravely:</p> + +<p>"We be in God A'mighty's hands."</p> + +<p>Uncle sat down, assuming a funereal expression which sat oddly upon +his somewhat comical countenance. He did not share his sister's faith in +an All-wise and Merciful Providence. Strong ale, perhaps, had weakened +it, and over-indulgence in flesh-pots. But he dared not contradict his +sister.</p> + +<p>He fired another shot.</p> + +<p>"Captain Davenant be sartain sure that our noble army be too small +for such a tremenjous affair. He goes further than that, Susan. I +wouldn't deceive 'ee or try to frighten 'ee for a barrel o' ale, but he +be flustratingly positive that we be drawn into the bloodiest war as +never was, and he do say that God A'mighty fights on the side o' the +biggest army. His tarr'ble words, Susan, not mine. There be millions o' +Proosians marchin' into France this very day, and the Captain says they +Frenchies bain't ready for 'em."</p> + +<p>He expected a cooling stream of comfort and a rebuttal of what the +Captain said. If anybody could stand up against so redoubtable a +personage it would be Susan Yellam. She said slowly:</p> + +<p>"The Captain says that our army be too small! The King'll have to +call for—millions?"</p> + +<p>Uncle nodded dolorously. To his utter amazement and confounding, +Susan raised her apron, and covered her face with it.</p> + +<p class="p5">The abomination of coming desolation overwhelmed both of +them.</p> + +<h3><a name="Ch6"></a>CHAPTER VI</h3> + +<h4>FIRST IMPRESSIONS</h4> + +<p class="p2">Uncle was quick, like all practised orators, to realise +the effect of his words not only upon a sister, but upon himself. He +emerged from the depths, as a swimmer after a dive, shaking his head and +opening his mouth to the ambient air. A happy thought occurred to +him.</p> + +<p>"Susan," he said, in a more cheerful voice, "I be mazed as you be, +but things bain't so dark as they seem, and I've Squire's own word for +it that figures lie to beat Satan hisself."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam looked at him interrogatively.</p> + +<p>"I be allers, so to speak, a very calkilatin' man, rampaged by Fortin +into makin' sixpence do duty for a shillin'. Now, I asks you this, and I +means to put the question, fair and square, to Captain Davenant +to-morrer marning. 'Tis a common saying that one Englishman be so good +as ten Frenchies in a stand-up fight. That be a very comfortsome +thought, old girl."</p> + +<p>"Which I don't hold wi', for one."</p> + +<p>"Don't 'ee? I wager the half-crown Master Lionel gi' me that you be +the equal o' ten Frenchwomen, and, old as I be, I'd fair scorn to turn +back on any 'arf-dozen furriners. If so be as my calkilatin' ain't out +o' whack, our noble army o' two hundred thousand valiant souls be more'n +equal o' two million Frenchies. And, if that be so, the Germans be up +agen four millions in all. Leastways, if I bain't out in my +figurin'."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam smiled faintly.</p> + +<p>"Your figures, Habakkuk, be Satan's figures. I allows that one true +Englishman can down three Frenchies, not more. Men'll be +wanted—and soon."</p> + +<p>Uncle remarked mournfully:</p> + +<p>"Such talk takes away my appetite for cracklin'. I go my ways, dear, +leavin' this mossel o' comfort behind me: they won't be askin' for +widows' only sons. Good-night to 'ee."</p> + +<p>After Uncle's departure Mrs. Yellam busied herself with her work, +pausing now and again to sigh deeply. If Sir Geoffrey Pomfret said that +England was coming in, why, England was in. A doubtful hypothesis became +certainty. And some widows' sons, if she knew her countrymen, would +fight for England, tooth and nail, even if they were not directly asked +to do so.</p> + +<p>Presently Alfred appeared, sharp-set after a good day's business. He +repeated the gossip of the market-place. Russia was going to surprise +the world. England must come in. A greengrocer, on intimate terms with a +lady of quality, had told him as a secret that the Guards were already +embarking for Belgium. Alfred concluded cheerfully:</p> + +<p>"In Salisbury, Mother, 'tis agreed that six weeks'll see the end +on't."</p> + +<p>"Captain Davenant be talkin' o' conscription, Alferd."</p> + +<p>"Let him talk. He's a sour man. I put my faith in God Almighty, not +in the likes of him."</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h!"</p> + +<p>"I say to myself, in all Christian humility, that God Almighty in His +wisdom is fair fed up with the Proosians. Such talk as they use, all +spitting and choking, is quite enough to sicken ordinary folks. 'Tis the +swelled head that this Kayser has. However, wiser men prophesy a rare +uplifting move in trade."</p> + +<p>"Alferd—don't talk o' that. 'Tis more than I can bear to hear +o' folks makin' money out o' the miseries o' others."</p> + +<p>He stared at her, noticing at last her drawn expression.</p> + +<p>"You ain't got the headache, Mother?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't own up to it, if you had. Something's gnawing at you."</p> + +<p>Very gravely she told him about the young Squire. Alfred's face fell, +thinking of Joyce Pomfret, and then of Fancy. What would that pretty +dear be feeling, if her Alfred was on the march? The light faded from +his rubicund face. Till that moment the possibility of going had never +occurred to him. If England did take a hand in the mighty game, surely +her Army and Fleet would suffice for all eventualities. Suddenly, he +banged the table with his clenched fist, startling his mother.</p> + +<p>"Alferd—!" she exclaimed irritably.</p> + +<p>Alfred hastened to apologise. A confounding thought had begotten a +thoughtless action. He said earnestly:</p> + +<p>"Fancy is a oner for telling fortunes with cards."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam frowned. Cards she held to be playthings of Satan, +expressly invented by him together with strong drink and bad women. +Alfred continued hastily:</p> + +<p>"A lady in Salisbury, real quality, Mother, told Fancy's +fortune."</p> + +<p>"Did she? Better be using her needle, I says."</p> + +<p>"No doubt. 'Tis a very odd thing, and food for sober thought, but the +lady did foretell as Fancy'd marry a soldier."</p> + +<p>"A very foolish, mischievous notion to put i' the maid's head."</p> + +<p>Alfred nodded. Then he said portentously:</p> + +<p>"It might come true, Mother, if the pessimists be right."</p> + +<p>"Pessimists?"</p> + +<p>"'Tis a new word to me, and means—crokers, as looks on the dark +side of the cloud."</p> + +<p>"Well, what do they tell 'ee?"</p> + +<p>"'Twas a solitary he. A shoemaker by trade, and a radical. The smell +of leather be enough to account for his politics and gloomy views. When +I take shoes to him, we always pass time o' day, and I come away +thinking 'tis just before dawn on a cold, drizzling, November morning. +He says to me: 'My lad, these Proosians may be drinking ale in Salisbury +before this war's over.' I laughed at him. And he told me I'd laugh +t'other side of my face in six months."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam made no comment, a strange abstention. Her firm jaws set +beneath strongly-marked brows, her eyes glowered into the future. Mother +and son finished the meal in silence.</p> + +<p>These things were talked over on Monday, the 2nd of August.</p> + +<p>On the Wednesday all England knew that we were at war with +Germany.</p> + +<p>The first effect of this stupendous happening was comical. The banks +were closed; many people found themselves without money and unable to +borrow it. Fishpingle, the bailiff at the Home Farm, had to lend Lionel +Pomfret five pounds to take him to Winchester. Some pessimists predicted +a financial panic. The foreign stock exchanges transacted no business. +All this affected Nether-Applewhite but mildly; tongues wagged a little +faster than usual; very few believed that an Expeditionary Force would +be sent to France. Sir Geoffrey Pomfret walked down to the village and +talked with his people. His jolly face and hearty voice indicated +immense relief. He—and thousands like him—had been tormented +by the fear that a nation stigmatised as shopkeepers would place +self-interest before honour. He writhed when he recalled the cynical +gibe of the Russian to England's ambassador at a time when England did +"keep out." Old Captain Davenant and the Squire were types of men whom +the more Radical press derided as reactionary and fire-eaters. Let the +verdict of history speak for such after the war. Few, to-day, will deny +that the privileged classes with most at stake stood shoulder to +shoulder in their determination to scrap everything except scraps of +paper bearing England's sign-manual.</p> + +<p>The villagers listened agape to Sir Geoffrey and Captain Davenant. +Then each went his way perfectly satisfied that others would dance to +war's pipings and alarums, whilst they "carried on" as before.</p> + +<p>Old Gilbert Parish, a great-granfer, was convinced that war had been +declared with the hereditary foe. He asked Mr. Hamlin shrilly, holding +hand to ear:</p> + +<p>"What I wants to know, Pa'son, be this—whatever shall we do wi' +they Frenchies when us have beat'h 'em?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Hamlin answered gravely: "I suppose we shall have to eat them, +Master Gilbert."</p> + +<p>The <ins title="'monagenarian' in the original">nonagenarian</ins> +displayed toothless gums.</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! That's what the Dook said at Waterloo. 'Up, Guards, and eat +'en,' he says. <i>And they did!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Was you there, Granfer, on that notable day?" asked a bystander.</p> + +<p>The old fellow cackled joyously.</p> + +<p>"'Tis so far back along, I disremembers. To speak sober truth, my +lad, the Dook won that gert battle wi'out me. 'Tis a fact beyond +gainsayin' that I be here, and hale and hearty, because, maybe, I was +not there."</p> + +<p>His humour so tickled him that he hobbled forthwith to the <i>Sir +John Barleycorn</i> to wet a still serviceable whistle. Many followed +his example; the two taverns sold much ale.</p> + +<p>In a miraculously short time village life ambled on as before. The +small boys played at soldiers; some of the more prescient mothers laid +in stores. Lionel Pomfret returned from Winchester with the assurance, +hot from the mouth of the officer commanding the dépôt, that every +regular would be sent abroad. The Squire was absorbed in the details. +Each officer would be allowed thirty pounds of kit, such kit to be +snugly packed in a pale-green carry-all. It comprised one change, two +blankets, a few surgical dressings, a folding-lamp, a pair of +wire-cutters, and under-linen. The Territorials and Yeomanry would +defend our shores. According to experts, invasion might be deemed +practicable, if unlikely. Next day Lionel went to London, to the War +Office. He came back with a Captain's commission.</p> + +<p>The Government had taken over the railroads, and, at first, trains +were inconveniently belated. Liège was covering herself with +imperishable glory, holding up hordes of Germans. In the rural districts +the comforting impression prevailed that the All-Highest War Lord had +gone stark, staring mad, and that a peace-loving nation would kick him +and his out of the country. Hamlin, reading feverishly papers and +reviews, neglecting, for the first time in his life, parochial duties, +rejoiced in the premature conclusion that there burned no hate in +English hearts against the German people to whom civilisation owed so +much. He adumbrated peace before Christmas, and believed that a +world-war would end war. For a parish priest, he might be reckoned, +intellectually, far above the average. Men of keener and bigger brains +shared his views. Sir Geoffrey Pomfret, as might be expected, thought +otherwise. There is no pessimist like your optimist when he finds that +the prognostications of his less robust moments have come to pass. He +said almost truculently to his wife:</p> + +<p>"It is some comfort to reflect, my dear Mary, that <i>we</i> were +right, and all these axe-grinding demagogues wrong. I could hang Haldane +with my own hand. And I feel in my bones that this is going to be a long +business—a full year at least."</p> + +<p>The Squire was sorely taken aback, when Lord Kitchener trebled this +estimate. He cursed politicians of his own party when Namur fell. +Indeed, he blamed politicians and publicists of every colour and creed, +pinning his faith to Army and Navy, sorely disgruntled with the Foreign +Office and the Diplomatic Service. No more unhappy man gazed across his +broad acres wondering miserably whether they would be his in three +years' time.</p> + +<p>There ensued, as will be remembered, an amazing epidemic of national +apathy, which aroused trenchant criticism in neutral countries. People +bought maps and pins, and forgot to move the pins. Small things became +again of paramount importance. The King had demanded half a million more +regulars. But business went on as usual. A famous scribe has chronicled +the supreme event of this transition period. Carpentier defeated +Bombadier Wells! Possibly, the general indifference, an indifference +largely due to ignorance, was superficial. It is significant that +thousands of holiday-makers returned quietly to their own homes.</p> + +<p>Lionel Pomfret and his wife moved to Winchester, where Lionel was +kept busy at the dépôt. For the moment, his own battalion of the Rifle +Brigade was in India. Another battalion had joined the Expeditionary +Force. Lionel might be called upon to join it at twenty-four hours' +notice. Joyce Pomfret, his wife, perceived that he wanted to do so.</p> + +<p>An American, with the liveliest powers of observation, visiting +Nether-Applewhite, and talking, let us say, to Mrs. Yellam and Fancy, +would have gone away convinced that both these women, each the +antithesis of the other, were unconcerned with the war. Really the +thought of it obsessed them night and day. But they rarely spoke of it. +Mrs. Yellam deliberately put from her the possibility of losing her son, +partly because she had a positive assurance from the Parson that Alfred, +as a public carrier, would be exempted from military service if +conscription became necessary, and partly because the fact that she +tended four graves in the churchyard must surely be taken into account +by an All-wise and Merciful Providence. Like most of us, she had +constructed her own particular statute of limitations and liabilities. +She had endured more than her proper share of bludgeonings. Accordingly, +her mind dwelt upon the war as affecting others. She grieved for Lady +Pomfret and the Squire. If Master Lionel were taken—! The only son +and heir to such a fine property—!</p> + +<p>Fancy, sister of a beloved brother serving in a battleship, fell a +prey to more intimate and poignant considerations. As the child of a +delicate mother who had died in giving her birth, pre-natal influence, +perhaps, had endowed her with sensibilities common to all women who are +physically weaker than they should be, with minds and imaginations more +active than their bodies. From her tenderest years Fancy had indulged in +meditations concerning angels. Her father habitually spoke of his wife +as an angel hovering close to one whom she had never held in her arms. +Fancy believed him absolutely. Darkness had no terrors for the child, +when she went to bed, because, in addition to her mother, the four +evangelists guarded her cot. She was quite positive that she had seen +her mother, clothed in shining tissues, with wings like a dove. Matthew, +Mark, Luke and John became personal friends with whom the mite affirmed +solemnly that she talked and played. Her father, a dreamer rather than a +doer, encouraged these fancies, which justified his selection of her +Christian name in obstinate defiance of the wishes of his family.</p> + +<p>The first effect of the war upon Fancy, apart from her sisterly +anxieties, was a tightening of the bond between master and maid. Mr. +Hamlin held strong democratic opinions, a source of friction between +himself and Sir Geoffrey Pomfret. He desired ardently a more equable +distribution, not merely of wealth, but of health and intelligence. He +believed absolutely in the equality of souls before God, and he +recognised with ever-increasing satisfaction the potentialities of +bodies and minds, if taken in hand early in life. His disabilities as a +teacher shewed themselves in a too direct manner of speech, an +abruptness caused by an excess rather than a lack of sympathy and +perception. As Man and Priest, he shunned those easy by-paths beloved by +many of us when we have disagreeable duties to perform. He marched +straight to his objectives, regardless of objections.</p> + +<p>At first sight, Mr. Hamlin recognised in his parlourmaid qualities of +which she herself was delightfully unconscious. As parson of a country +parish which outwardly and inwardly had changed but little since the +eighteenth century, he had fought desperately against the mental and +spiritual apathy of his flock, seizing any weapon that lay to his hand. +He worked with people for people, using Peter to convert Paul, +constantly disappointed but rarely discouraged. He had been offered +preferment; his sermons challenged interest outside Nether-Applewhite +but he had no personal ambition beyond the consuming desire to help +those whom he knew and loved to help themselves. Sir Geoffrey Pomfret +supported him in this, but Parson and Squire worked upon diametrically +opposing lines. All the instincts of the lord of the manor were +protective. To that end he had made and was prepared to go on making +personal sacrifices of leisure, pleasure and money. According to Hamlin, +this encouraged helplessness and ignorance. Poverty held out eager hands +for doles, displaying that comical form of gratitude which has been +defined as a lively sense of favours to come.</p> + +<p>Hamlin, in common with most sincere reformers, divided the world into +two classes—the helpers and hinderers. Between these lay, of +course, a No Man's Land, where each class wandered aimlessly; the +helpers, like the Squire, became hinderers and hinderers, like Uncle, +might become, unexpectedly, helpers. Fancy, he acclaimed as a helper in +or out of the debateable territory. Insensibly, her refinement and +modesty would raise the tone in his kitchen, and radiate purer beams +from a house hospitably accessible to all his congregation. From time to +time, when he was alone at meals, he would ask the maid odd questions, +and listen attentively to her replies. Such questions were disconcerting +to Fancy, but, as was intended, they provoked intelligence to answer +them. Ever since ordination, Hamlin had realised the almost insuperable +barriers interposed by tradition, by training, by a thousand and one +conditions and consequences, between the privileged and unprivileged +classes. From the first he had set himself the task of breaking down +such barriers. He candidly admitted that most of his parishioners were +liars and hypocrites when it came to dealing with them frankly as +between man and man, and still more so as between man and woman. They +said, respectfully, what each felt that the Parson wished them to say, +repeating the old shibboleths and sesames which opened, possibly, purses +but not hearts.</p> + +<p>After the fall of Namur, he said to Fancy:</p> + +<p>"Do you feel patriotic?"</p> + +<p>The question of patriotism had been raised (and not laid) by a +publicist in one of the current reviews, but the writer had presented a +point of view coloured and discoloured by intimate knowledge of +industrial England. He had not touched upon his theme as it affected the +rural districts.</p> + +<p>"I hope so, sir," replied Fancy.</p> + +<p>"How far, I wonder, would your patriotism carry you?"</p> + +<p>He knew that Fancy was engaged to Alfred Yellam, and had +congratulated her sincerely. He knew, also, that she had no intention of +getting married for some time to come.</p> + +<p>Fancy stood at attention, much perplexed, but flattered. She had wit +enough to realise that her master put the question in certain faith that +she would endeavour to answer it truthfully.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell," she faltered. "Sounds silly, don't it, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. I am wondering how far my patriotism would carry me. +What is patriotism, Fancy?"</p> + +<p>"Love of country, sir."</p> + +<p>"Why do we feel it?"</p> + +<p>His keen eyes rested quietly on hers.</p> + +<p>Fancy grappled with this, struggling to rise adequately to the +occasion.</p> + +<p>"I suppose 'tis gratitude, sir."</p> + +<p>"Good. But gratitude is imponderable." For an instant he had +forgotten that he was talking to his parlourmaid. Beholding a wrinkle, +he said quickly: "I mean, that gratitude is not easy to weigh or +measure. It is immense," he smiled at her, "when it marches hand in hand +with self-interest. It shrinks horribly when self-interest marches or +runs in the opposite direction. Do you follow me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; thank you, sir."</p> + +<p>"Don't thank me," he said, with a touch of irritation. He continued +quietly: "We must all try to weigh our patriotism, because every one of +us will be asked to exercise it. Leaving out the men able to bear arms, +I am thinking for the moment of the women, young and old. An immense +burden is about to be imposed on them. That is why I am speaking to you. +I held the mistaken view that this war would soon be over. But it is +plain that we are fighting an enemy overwhelmingly strong, who is +setting all laws, human and divine, at defiance. I want to measure our +patriotism, my own, yours, everybody's; but I do so in fear and +trembling."</p> + +<p>Fancy, outwardly calm, presenting the impassive mask of the +well-trained servant, became conscious of tingling and throbbing pulses. +A strong man appeals most strenuously to the sympathy of a woman, when +he permits her to have a glimpse of his weakness. She spoke impulsively, +quite forgetting her "place," as she told herself afterwards.</p> + +<p>"You be thinking of Mr. Edward."</p> + +<p>It was a flash of intuition.</p> + +<p>The Parson had four stout sons, but Teddy, the youngest, was his +Benjamin. Teddy and Joyce had inherited from Mrs. Hamlin joyous +temperaments. The other sons resembled their father. All of them were +"doing well" in a worldly sense. The eldest was a don at Cambridge, +Fellow and Tutor of his College. The others were in business, climbing +hand over hand the commercial ladder. Teddy, with not so good a start as +his brothers, had entered the Railway Service. Since Fancy's arrival at +the Vicarage he had spent a too short holiday at home. His jolly, +unaffected ways captivated Fancy instantly. Life, as the maids put it, +entered a dull house and filled it with sunshine. Teddy brought with him +to Nether-Applewhite wonderful news. He had been offered and had +accepted a billet worth four hundred a year—startling advancement +for so young a man. His unaffected joy in his own good fortune warmed +all sympathetic hearts.</p> + +<p>The Parson looked up sharply.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered curtly. He had finished breakfast, but still sat +at table. Fancy saw that he was nervously crumbling a small piece of +bread.</p> + +<p>"But Mr. Edward won't have to go, sir."</p> + +<p>Hamlin hesitated. But, inviting confidence, he was not the man to +withhold it churlishly. He said slowly:</p> + +<p>"Between ourselves, Fancy, Mr. Edward wishes to go. I have a letter +from him this morning, asking for my advice on the subject. It means, +for him and me, a great sacrifice."</p> + +<p>Fancy gasped.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear! You'll never let him go—surely?"</p> + +<p>Hamlin rose, a tall, gaunt figure.</p> + +<p>"My patriotism," he said grimly, "is not quite so lively, Fancy, as +it was last night."</p> + +<p>He went out of the room. Fancy began to clear away the breakfast +things, much troubled, sorely perplexed, alive to her finger-tips with +the dismal consciousness that life had become suddenly confoundingly +difficult. If Alfred took a notion to enlist, and if he consulted her +about it, as surely he would, to what sort of strain would her +patriotism be subjected? She, too, approached the question in fear and +trembling. At the moment "things," as she vaguely expressed it, were +going better and better for Alfred. War seemed to have oiled all +commercial wheels. On Sundays her happy swain soared into an empyrean of +prosperity and opulence where he sat enthroned high above her, talking +exuberantly of a future she dared not envisage. The good fellow assured +her that the Germans would soon be on the run, with English sabres +hewing them down, with English bayonets in their fat backs. Would such a +man, travelling at excess speed into Tom Tiddler's Ground, fingering +daily larger and ever larger pieces of silver and gold, stop suddenly +and abandon everything?</p> + +<p>He might.</p> + +<p>If patriotism seized him, as it had seized Mr. Edward, the strangling +grip would choke ambition, self-interest, and woman's love.</p> + +<p>She told herself miserably that Mr. Edward would go. More, his father +would not raise a finger to stop him. As the Parson left the +dining-room, she guessed that his decision had been made already.</p> + +<p>Within a week it became common knowledge in the village that Mr. +Edward Hamlin had enlisted in the Guards. He would appear amongst his +father's parishioners in a private's kit, and salute respectfully his +old friend, Captain Pomfret.</p> + +<p>He was the first "gentleman" in those parts to relinquish fortune at +the call of duty. And his shining example, so his father perceived, had +moved mountains of too solid flesh. As yet the great recruiting campaign +had not begun.</p> + +<p class="p5">Two days afterwards George Mucklow followed the parson's +son into the ranks.</p> + +<h3><a name="Ch7"></a>CHAPTER VII</h3> + +<h4>SECOND IMPRESSIONS</h4> + +<p class="p2">August—with its stupefying surprises, +disappointments, and acrimonies—drew to a close. The black Sunday, +at the end of the month, will never be forgotten by those who happened +to be in London at the time. For a few terrible hours it was said that +our Expeditionary Force had been annihilated. In the evening an official +contradiction lifted the town out of a pea-soup fog of despair.</p> + +<p>Day by day, the Hun hordes advanced. Sir Geoffrey devoured his +morning papers, talked over the immeasurable possibilities with his wife +and Fishpingle, and finally determined to tap fresh information at its +source. He went up to London, spent three days at his clubs, and +returned to Nether-Applewhite an angry and disillusioned man. Having +many friends in high places, some of them old schoolfellows and kinsmen, +who had become pale and anxious Cabinet Ministers, he buttonholed them +all, demanding the truth in his jovial, autocratic fashion.</p> + +<p>"A damned lot of Mandarins," he told his wife, "nodding their +confounded heads and saying nothing. At the club, by Jove! I felt as if +I were in a submarine with the periscope shot away. Every other fellow I +met was 'credibly informed' about something or t'other, and I could have +made a pot of money, my dear, laying odds against their precious bits of +information. The Government is scared stiff, at the mercy of the +Labourites. Out of the welter of talk and twaddle I collared this +conviction: the England we love has vanished never to return. Kitchener +says that we shall be bled white, and the best will be the first to +go."</p> + +<p>Lady Pomfret smiled faintly.</p> + +<p>"George Mucklow has gone."</p> + +<p>"Has he? I shall give Uncle a sovereign. Now, Mary, sick as I feel +about the incompetence and crass stupidity of the people who have got us +into this mess, I shall carry a stiff tail in the village."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you will, dear."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I asked 'em at the War Office what I could do. Get recruits, +they told me. I shall mug up a lecture, dealing with military +terminology. My people don't know the difference between a brigade and +an army-corps. Coming down in the train, I thought out some useful +diagrams. And, Mary, unless a miracle happens, the slaughter will be +appalling. We must turn our dear old house into a Red Cross +Hospital."</p> + +<p>"I had thought of that, Geoffrey. We are quite ready."</p> + +<p>"Get your staff together, a competent, professional nurse, and the +pick of the women in the village."</p> + +<p>"Susan Yellam has promised to help."</p> + +<p>"None better! The sooner we get to work and stop jawing and fuddling +our wits over newspapers, the less miserable we shall be."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes."</p> + +<p>After dinner, the autocrat of Nether-Applewhite felt less +unhappy.</p> + +<p>Upon the following morning, bright and early, Squire and Parson put +their heads together at the Vicarage. Since the marriage of Hamlin's +daughter to Lionel Pomfret, the somewhat strained relations between the +two fathers had pleasantly relaxed. Hamlin had this advantage over the +Squire. He could see and understand the autocrat's lordly point of view. +The Squire was, and always would be, incapable of standing in the +Parson's shoes. Possibly, the war had modified their extreme opinions. +The Squire read and approved the leading articles in <i>The Morning +Post</i>; the Parson read <ins title="'omniverously' in the +original">omnivorously</ins> papers and reviews, but he would have +admitted candidly that <i>The Westminster Gazette</i> embodied most +accurately his ideas and judgments.</p> + +<p>Both men were uncomfortably conscious that grave blunders had been +perpetrated by Authority.</p> + +<p>When they had lit their after-breakfast pipes, Sir Geoffrey laid +before Hamlin a synopsis of what he had gleaned in London, and his +impressions thereon, but he spoke temperately, perceiving whimsical +gleams in his Parson's eyes.</p> + +<p>"A lot of fools believe that Russians are pouring through this +country. An old pal and myself tried to investigate on our own. We went +to Euston. By Jove! we dropped on to a porter who swore that he'd seen +thousands of 'em passing through Willesden, big bearded men in queer +uniforms, at dead o' night. To show the ignorance of these fellows, +Hamlin, I'll repeat to you what was said in answer to my questions. The +porter affirmed positively that he had seen six hundred thousand of 'em! +<i>Six hundred thousand!</i> I asked him, then, if he knew how many +soldiers could be packed into one train. He scratched his head at that. +Finally, he admitted that he could swear to three trains full of these +bearded warriors. When I told him, as an old soldier, that three trains +might carry three thousand troops he absquatulated. A man at the War +Office, whose name I can't mention, told me, next day, that no Russians +from Russia were passing through England. A few, coming from America to +Russia, have aroused this ridiculous gossip."</p> + +<p>Hamlin nodded.</p> + +<p>"I told my wife last night that knowledge is simply unachievable, +because the biggest men don't know yet the temper of the country. Nobody +knows. But I'll tell you this: the Government is afraid of the +Industrials, terrified of strikes, terrified of Ireland, terrified, of +course, of being kicked out. A sort of mental palsy has 'em by the +throat. They are putting out feelers, tentatively approaching everybody. +It's a sorry business. The bright spot is the response from our +Colonies; India is behaving well. That must be a rare sell for the +Kayser. Well, well; I've let off a little steam. Let's consider +ourselves and what we can do. Men must be got. In this village your dear +boy has set a glorious example."</p> + +<p>"George Mucklow enlisted three days ago."</p> + +<p>"So my wife tells me. I propose to give a lecture in the school-house +on elementary military dispositions, so that our people will be able to +read their papers with some sort of intelligence."</p> + +<p>"They don't read papers—much."</p> + +<p>"I want you to fill the school-house for me."</p> + +<p>"With pleasure."</p> + +<p>"We shall open a Red Cross Hospital as soon as may be, at the +Court."</p> + +<p>Hamlin promised cordial co-operation. He had never doubted the +Squire's willingness or capacity to "do his bit." And very mournfully he +told himself that, making due allowance for Sir Geoffrey's reactionary +sentiments and hatred of politicians the indictment brought by him +against the Mandarins was in the main justified. He said quietly:</p> + +<p>"Most of my considered judgments are in the melting-pot."</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul! I never expected to hear you say that. So are mine. +The main question for all of us is this: will the country rise to this +stupendous emergency? I suppose the mere mention of conscription gives +you a fit?"</p> + +<p>"I carry an open mind about it."</p> + +<p>"You amaze me, Hamlin. We were both 'blue-water school' men."</p> + +<p>"Yes. You use the past tense. I am humbly sensible that what I have +felt and acted upon, principles and theories essentially rooted in peace +and for peace, is of the past. I shall leave them there. The needs of +the present are obsessing." He paused a moment; when he spoke again his +voice held conviction: "Out of the darkness, I see light."</p> + +<p>Sir Geoffrey asked eagerly:</p> + +<p>"What light?"</p> + +<p>"The light of a happier civilisation, of a broader and more +sympathetic internationalism. The ashes of this conflagration may +fertilise anew the whole earth. It must be so."</p> + +<p>He had surprised Sir Geoffrey a moment back; it was the Squire's turn +to surprise him. Hamlin expected a wail from the many-acred lord of the +manor, a Jeremiad personal and embittered. Inevitably the men of large +estates, with little outside their domains to support them, must suffer +cruelly. It was difficult, indeed, to envisage the Squire of +Nether-Applewhite without his shooting and hunting, with a much-reduced +establishment, constrained to cheese-paring, entertaining wounded +Tommies instead of county magnates. Sir Geoffrey answered as humbly as +the Parson:</p> + +<p>"God send it may be so, Hamlin. This is a war between autocracy and +democracy; and I don't believe in democracies, as you know."</p> + +<p>Hamlin remained silent. The Squire continued, more vehemently:</p> + +<p>"Can you mention one country that is a democracy? Is America a +democracy?"</p> + +<p>"We shall know soon."</p> + +<p>"Is it a democracy to-day? Uncle Sam says so. But isn't America +governed by the few and for the few? Do you call France a democracy +after the revelations of this Caillaux trial? Are we a democracy, in the +true sense? Perhaps Switzerland comes nearer the standard mark, but I +know nothing about Switzerland. I have always distrusted profoundly the +mob."</p> + +<p>"That may be at the root of the trouble. Distrust breeds distrust. If +this war should open all eyes, if men should learn to see each other as +they are—much alike in the mass—and not, not, as they +blindly believe, essentially different, why, then this war will not have +been waged in vain."</p> + +<p>Sir Geoffrey wrestled valiantly with these words.</p> + +<p>"I grope, Hamlin, I grope. It sounds humiliating when one is past +sixty."</p> + +<p>Hamlin nodded. He was groping, too, but he had greater faith in human +nature. He said hesitatingly:</p> + +<p>"The result of all wars, according to history, has been this: the +poor emerge poorer; the rich richer. I hope that it will not be so after +this world-war. And our energies should be directed to that end, +Pomfret:—a more generous distribution of material wealth, a +happier understanding between all classes, a breaking-down of barriers +everywhere, not only as between man and man, but as between nation and +nation."</p> + +<p>Sir Geoffrey jumped up, holding out his hand.</p> + +<p>"You are a good fellow, Hamlin, sound at core. I have often misjudged +you in the past. Forgive me! The past, as we knew it, is dead. We will +work together in the present."</p> + +<p>Hamlin rose quickly, grasping the outstretched hand. After discussing +practical details concerning the lecture, they separated. The Squire +strode on to the village, much heartened. The Parson sat down at his +desk to write the Sunday morning sermon. For a time, he put no pen to +paper. He leaned head upon hand, thinking deeply. Out of the dump-heap +which was left of his pet theories, he tried to piece together some sort +of mosaic pavement upon which he could stand. It was difficult to +realise the change in himself, more difficult to realise the change in +the Squire. But the change had taken place. What would be the effect on +his parishioners? Who would help? Who would hinder? If this war meant +the regeneration and reconstruction of the world, all were involved. He +thought of the dead Pope, who had passed away without exciting a ripple +of excitement outside the Vatican. What part would his successor play? +Would the Church of England grasp a tremendous opportunity? Would the +<ins title="'Noncomformists' in the original">Nonconformists</ins> gird +up their loins for the spiritual battle?</p> + +<p>Consider Armageddon how he might and did, from every point of view +which presented itself to an active and prescient brain,—the +material outlook of diplomatists struggling to adjust the balance of +European powers, of monarchs gazing at tottering thrones, of politicians +still grabbing loaves and fishes, of business men thinking of their +tills, of the rank and file in all countries working apathetically for +their daily bread,—this thought rose up and dominated others. To +him and men like him, ardently concerned with the potentialities of +souls, ordained teachers of God's Word, called upon to interpret, so far +as they could, the mysterious designs of Omnipotence, the issues shone +clearly forth. Evil was arrayed against Good. The pomps and vanities of +the world were marshalled against the powers of the Spirit.</p> + +<p>And, in the end, the Spirit would triumph.</p> + +<p>He began his sermon.</p> + +<p>The Squire, meanwhile, was approaching the <i>Sir John Barleycorn</i> +tavern, intending to have a word with William Saint, and, later on, with +Susan Yellam and others, whom he regarded as aides-de-camp. Not being a +very judicious reader of character, indolently disposed (because he was +so busy himself) to accept his own people as they appeared to be, he +regarded William Saint as a respectable, intelligent publican, who had +been an excellent servant as first footman at the Court. He counted upon +William as a likely "whipper-in" in the hunt for recruits. The Boniface +of the <i>Pomfret Arms</i>, the larger of the two Nether-Applewhite +taverns, happened to be stout and scant o' breath. He seldom stirred out +of his snug bar-parlour. William Saint scoured the <ins +title="hyphenated in the original">countryside</ins>, a very energetic, +enterprising fellow.</p> + +<p>"Morning, William."</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Sir Geoffrey."</p> + +<p>The Squire removed his hat and wiped an ample brow. He had found +Saint in the sanded tap-room, overhauling supplies. He noted the man's +drab complexion, and wondered whether he consumed too much of his own +beer. The publican asked his old master deferentially if he would drink +a glass of ale. Time was when the Squire never refused such invitations. +To-day, he declined the ale, saying trenchantly:</p> + +<p>"No, no. We shall have to tighten our belts, William. Take my word +for it. You must reckon with being hit. We shall all be hit in our +purses and our stomachs."</p> + +<p>William Saint agreed politely. He had no intention of being hit in +either place, but he kept that to himself. Already he was secretly +enrolled amongst the would-be profiteers, and resolutely determined to +extract good from an ill wind. Sir Geoffrey stated the nature of his +errand. The village must set an example to less beatified hamlets, such +as Ocknell, for example. Did William think the younger men would come +forward with enthusiasm? William was doubtful about the enthusiasm. With +discreet pressure from Authority, they might be induced to follow the +example of George Mucklow. The Squire slapped his thigh.</p> + +<p>"I am very pleased with George Mucklow. A snug billet shall be kept +for him."</p> + +<p>William smiled, not very pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"His father, Sir Geoffrey, used pressure."</p> + +<p>"Did he, b'Jove? And very proper, too. Uncle is one of the right +sort. Even his weaknesses are endearing. The truth is, William, in such +damnable times as these we must keep an eye peeled for the good in our +fellow-men, and wink the other discreetly."</p> + +<p>Perhaps William profited by this advice, and winked the eye farthest +from Sir Geoffrey. After more conversation, dealing strictly with +recruiting methods to be applied to a community essentially +peace-loving, Sir Geoffrey walked off and on, very well satisfied with +his talk with an old servant. William apostrophised his diminishing +figure in language never printed nowadays.</p> + +<p>As the Squire walked down village he, too, like the Parson, thought +seriously of what he should say to his people when he met them in the +school-house. He was not concerned with spiritual issues. As a former +M.F.H., he went a-hunting recruits with the same ardour and resource +formerly consecrated to foxes. With profoundest sincerity he wished that +he were of an age to bear arms. Indeed, he had offered himself, as an +ex-Guardsman, quite ready to tackle a new drill-manual, to an old +schoolfellow, now a general at the War Office. Sound advice had been +tendered him.</p> + +<p>"You can serve your country, Pomfret, on your own pitch. We shall +want men and food. Food may become the more difficult problem."</p> + +<p>Hence the allusion to tightened belts.</p> + +<p>Sir Geoffrey walked briskly, reflecting complacently upon his +excellent physical condition. He might be slightly dazed in mind, but +fit as a fiddle in body. An odd expression that! What constituted a +"fit" fiddle? Obviously, an instrument tuned to the right pitch. He felt +taut all over. What had kept him fit at an age when many men of his +acquaintance were falling into the sere and yellow stage of life? Sport. +To scrap sport filled him with apprehension. So far, sport in England +went on as usual. When he visited Euston to make enquiries concerning +Russians, he had seen many cheery-looking fellows on their way north, +bent on slaying grouse and stags, reasonably convinced in their own +simple minds that, Germans or no Germans, the world must wag on as +before. Sir Geoffrey was not so optimistic. He knew much better. Already +the supreme sacrifice of an only son had been demanded of him and made +instantly. Other sacrifices bulked larger and larger in the immediate +future. Standing in his fine hall, with the portraits of dead-and-gone +Pomfrets looking down upon him, he had smelt anticipatingly the pungent +odours of carbolic acid and iodoform. The stately saloon must be turned +into a ward—! The mere thought was hateful, but he never flinched +from it. Let the poor boys come! He would welcome them with courtesy and +geniality. A Mandarin predicted a five-shilling-in-the-pound income tax! +The Squire had responded generously to the Prince of Wales's Fund.</p> + +<p>The situation could be summed up in one all-embracing +word—Hell!</p> + +<p>Little girls curtsied, small boys touched their caps, as the Autocrat +of Nether-Applewhite passed them by with a kindly word and glance for +each. He reflected: "The little 'uns are out of it, bless 'em!" He +wondered whether respectful salutations would last his time. They were +dear to him, outward and visible signs of the respect paid to Authority. +Would they be scrapped? The Government had taken over the railroads. If +the Labourites came into power, the land might be grabbed +ruthlessly.</p> + +<p>Sir Geoffrey walked less briskly, as the possibility obtruded +itself.</p> + +<p>He stopped first at Uncle's cottage. Mrs. Mucklow received him. +Uncle, it appeared, was at work, thatching a dormer window, which +exacted his particular skill. Yes, George, poor boy, had gone for a +soldier. His father had insisted upon it.</p> + +<p>"Quite right," said the Squire heartily.</p> + +<p>Jane Mucklow sniffed. She dared not contradict the Squire, but a sour +face betrayed her feelings. The Squire laid a sovereign on the +mantelpiece, saying that it was for Uncle, with the donor's compliments. +Jane thanked him, wondering whether the piece of gold could be +despatched, surreptitiously, to George. Always, Uncle got credit for +what more deserving individuals accomplished. An exasperating thought! A +recital of her own aches and pains, however, provoked the promise of a +bottle of port. Sir Geoffrey shook hands with his former cook on +leaving, and said graciously:</p> + +<p>"Now, remember, Jane, if George gets leave and comes home, I want to +see him. Send him up to the Hall."</p> + +<p>"Thank you kindly, sir."</p> + +<p>Sir Geoffrey went his way. As he approached the Yellam cottage, he +muttered half audibly:</p> + +<p>"Good people. Good people."</p> + +<p>If he had known the truth—! At this moment Jane Mucklow was +reviling him, because she laid her George's approaching death at the +Squire's door. She made quite sure—and so did George—that he +would be killed in his first action. With much reluctance we present +these two old servants of the Autocrat smiling deferentially to his face +and cursing him behind his back! And he believed so absolutely in their +honesty and sincerity.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later, Mrs. Yellam dusted a chair which needed no +dusting. The Squire sat down upon it. He liked and respected Susan +Yellam, and she—you may be sure—was well aware of that. No +insincerity lurked behind her welcoming smile. But, in justice to the +unhappy Jane Mucklow, it must be stated that Susan happened to be +independent of the Autocrat. Many times and oft had Uncle been +"behindhand" with his rent. More than once Sir Geoffrey had remitted +that rent altogether, simply because Uncle was so knowledgeable about +foxes and deer, and such a wrath-disarming scallywag even in his cups. +Mrs. Yellam paid her rent punctually, and possessed independent means. +She had never been in service. She exercised brains, rare in any +village, which enabled her to apprehend something withheld from the +unprivileged classes, to wit:—that position carried with it +crushing responsibilities and disabilities. Mr. Fishpingle, so near and +dear to Sir Geoffrey, a friend and servant of fifty years, had often +pointed out to her the sacrifices made by the Squire for his people. And +she had kept eyes and ears open to these, deducing inferences from +them.</p> + +<p>For some minutes Sir Geoffrey talked about the Red Cross Hospital, +enlisting Susan's sympathies. Co-operation had been promised already to +Lady Pomfret.</p> + +<p>"My lady be none too strong," observed Mrs. Yellam.</p> + +<p>The Squire was not of Mrs. Yellam's opinion, but he didn't say so. He +mentioned his proposed lecture, and solemnly invited her considered +views on the recruiting campaign. She was not enthusiastic.</p> + +<p>"Be they wanted real bad, Sir Geoffrey?"</p> + +<p>"Of course they are."</p> + +<p>"Wanted as soldiers more than they be wanted on the land?"</p> + +<p>The Squire frowned. He had not weighed the pros and cons of a +question hardly raised as yet even by far-seeing men.</p> + +<p>"Lord Kitchener asks for them."</p> + +<p>"I be afeard they'll hang back. 'Tain't easy to believe that us is at +war. My Alferd be doing wonnerful well; trade stimulated as never +was."</p> + +<p>"I hear that Alfred is engaged to be married. Tell me all about +it."</p> + +<p>At such moments the Squire was at his best, keenly interested, avid +for details, always ready to assume sponsorial obligations for the +unborn, and promising five pounds if the little strangers appeared in +couples. Mrs. Yellam spoke of Fancy.</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul! She opened the Vicarage door to me this morning. A +very pretty girl, on the thin side, but modest and intelligent. I shall +congratulate her. Your Alfred is a very sterling fellow. He deserves the +right sort of wife. By the way, we shan't want him. You can tell him so +from me."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam said gravely:</p> + +<p>"Alferd be my only son, and I tells him that others should go +first."</p> + +<p>"Um! What does he say to that?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing—not a word."</p> + +<p>"Well, Susan, I want Alfred to help me. As a carrier he is constantly +meeting young men and young women. Let him talk to both."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sir Geoffrey. Alferd be a very forcible man, wi' plenty o' +brave words and thoughts. Certainly this war be a marrer-stirring +affair. I hopes as how Master Lionel be enjoyin' good health, and his +dear lady?"</p> + +<p>Sir Geoffrey chuckled.</p> + +<p>"Captain, Susan, Captain. And only yesterday, I remember, he came +sneaking in here, always sure of a bull's-eye." He glanced at his watch. +"Time, confound it, is always hurrying on. I'm due at the Home Farm. +Before I go, one word in your faithful ear. It will travel no further +for the present, hey?"</p> + +<p>"You knows that, Sir Geoffrey."</p> + +<p>They both stood up, a fine couple. The Squire patted Mrs. Yellam's +substantial shoulder. Then he lowered his jolly voice:</p> + +<p>"You asked about Mrs. Pomfret. After Christmas I am expecting the +sort of present I want badly. You understand——?"</p> + +<p>"Lard bless 'ee, Sir Geoffrey, and her too. Tis gert news."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it? But mum's the word!"</p> + +<p>He went on to the Home Farm, whither we need not follow him. But it +may be added, incidentally, that the translation of Benoni Fishpingle +from the position of butler at Pomfret Court to the more responsible +post of Bailiff had worked greatly to the Squire's advantage and +happiness. He returned home to luncheon in reasonably high spirits, +having prodded the sides of many fat bullocks. He found Lady Pomfret on +the terrace facing the park. From her face he divined instantly that +something of importance had happened. She came up to him, with her slow, +measured walk, holding out a telegram. It was from Lionel.</p> + +<p class="p5">"Expect Joyce and me to-night. I go to France this day +week."</p> + +<h3><a name="Ch8"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h3> + +<h4>RECRUITING</h4> + +<p class="p2">The Squire's lecture was an immense success. The village +school-house overbrimmed with his "people." With a big blackboard behind +him, and chalk in hand, the lecturer talked simply and convincingly upon +a subject at that time unfamiliar to his audience, a subject vital to +any understanding of military movements. He explained the nature of +platoons, companies, battalions, brigades, divisions and army corps. He +presented, in short, an army in being. Loud applause greeted this first +half of the lecture. The second half was devoted to the urgent cause of +recruiting, and was not, perhaps, quite so enthusiastically acclaimed. +The Squire, abandoning chalk and blackboard, thrust his hands in his +pockets, and spoke trenchantly. We need not chronicle what he said. Men +like him, all over the country, used the same arguments, almost exactly +the same words. Such speakers forgot what had been said by Tweedledum +and Tweedledee during the piping times of peace. Men and women, herded +together, were invited to scrap the slow judgments and convictions of +their lives. They had been assured again and again by politicians of +variegated complexions that a mighty navy was fully adequate to defend +our Empire against attack. Need it be added that such assurance, +embodying as it did the accumulated wisdom and experience of +generations, could not be cast incontinently as rubbish to the void. +English politicians—using the word in the strongest antithesis to +statesmen—have never realised the temper of the country towards +themselves, the curious and striking indifference of the average man, +engrossed in his own avocation, to any policy that he has not the wits +or leisure to assimilate thoroughly. The confidence of this average man +in the government of the moment has always been poignantly touching, a +confidence stolidly based upon a belief in the fundamental common sense +of the nation as a whole. Upset that belief, and the average man becomes +at once helplessly befogged.</p> + +<p>After the Squire had spoken, old Captain Davenant said a few words in +a more Cambyses' vein. Unhappily, the Captain lacked the geniality and +persuasiveness of Sir Geoffrey. He believed in the choleric word, +snapped out viciously. He spoke as he had often spoken in the +barrack-yard, or in the hunting-field when some heavy-witted yokel had +headed a fox. Probably he was shrewd enough to realise that this fox of +recruiting might be headed, and governed himself accordingly. The +Captain read the lessons on Sunday in the same peremptory tones, raising +a rasping voice and glaring at the congregation—a very +mirth-provoking performance. Uncle embodied the Nether-Applewhite +verdict on such readings of the Scriptures:</p> + +<p>"'Tis a rare lark to hear 'un!"</p> + +<p>Fancy and Alfred attended the lecture together, and Alfred +accompanied his sweetheart to the Vicarage <i>au clair de la lune</i>. +They had sat at the back of the school-house amongst the younger people, +and had listened attentively to sundry comments. Alfred, of course, +accepted as gospel whatever the lord of so goodly a manor might be +gracious enough to say. Being a carrier, and passing daily through many +manors, he had made obvious comparisons between his Squire and others to +the advantage of Sir Geoffrey Pomfret. Remember, also, that as yet, +although he kept silence on the point, he had not considered the +possibility of England wanting him, a widow's only son, actively engaged +in the prosecution of a business vital to the needs and necessities of a +prosperous village. He hadn't a doubt in his mind, after listening to a +burning harangue, that the younger men ought to down tools of peace and +shoulder rifles at the word of command. Some of the half-whispered +comments disturbed him.</p> + +<p>"Are they cowards?" he demanded of Fancy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't think that, Alfie."</p> + +<p>"You heard them growling like a lot of cantankerous hounds. I'd a +strong notion to speak my mind, I had. 'Twas lucky for them that Uncle +Habakkuk was sitting quiet and peaceful amongst the quality. I'll be +bound he picked up a shilling or two, being the happy father of the +hero. George, pore soul, stands higher than I ever expected to see him. +'Tis a sad pity the boy ain't able to hear the brave words as was said +to-night by Squire and Captain. He's standing on a giddy pinnacle, to be +sure, and I mind me, in cricket-field, how he'd shut both eyes when a +ball came at his legs. I see him like that, quavering, on the field of +battle."</p> + +<p>Alfred chuckled. Fancy squeezed his arm, whispering fears not for +George Mucklow, but for a better man:</p> + +<p>"Alfie, please don't joke about that."</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, Fancy, 'tis a fact that many of our boys are like George. +Shifting manure's their proper job, and they do that so slow that I get +weary watching 'em. Young Master Teddy is the real right sort. What he's +done, giving up a grand position, fills me nose-high with pride. And too +little was said about him,—a very notable oversight."</p> + +<p>"That was because Mr. Teddy is quality."</p> + +<p>"You're right, my pretty maid. Are you aware, Miss Broomfield, that +your fingers are playing the piano on my ribs?"</p> + +<p>Love-making put to flight the less agreeable theme.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam and Jane Mucklow went home side by side. Jane, as the +mother of the hero, maintained an aggressive silence. Susan Yellam said, +with a faint inflection of interrogation:</p> + +<p>"You be a proud 'ooman to-night, Jane?"</p> + +<p>"You be wrong, as usual. I bain't nothing of the sart."</p> + +<p>"Squire and old Captain spoke up so handsome about your Garge."</p> + +<p>"Be I the old fool they takes me for? 'Twas soft soap, Susan, ladled +out in a big spoon; flimflam I calls it. Habakkuk can ha' the pride, and +welcome. He be fair swollen wi' that and ale as Garge is payin' +for."</p> + +<p>"I listen to no ill talk about my brother, Jane."</p> + +<p>"Then you'd better walk wi' some one else, Susan Yellam. You sees God +A'mighty's hand i' this; I don't."</p> + +<p>She stamped along home in a silence Mrs. Yellam was too wise to +break. Jane was a Christian and a churchgoer. But chronic dyspepsia +seemed to have affected her conscience and principles.</p> + +<p>She had predicted aright. At the <i>Sir John Barleycorn</i> Uncle was +drinking much ale paid for, indirectly, by the hero of the hour. The +gaffers and married men, including George's married brothers, listened +approvingly. Uncle "understudied" the Squire as he addressed his +friends, thrusting his hands into his pockets and standing very +upright.</p> + +<p>"'Twas a notable evening, neighbours, but not a thing fresh to me, +you understand? Me and Squire went over his so heart-stirrin' remarks +two days ago, and me and old Captain had talk together this very +marning. Far be it from me to say as they used my own words egzactly; I +bain't a scollard, although I can an' do hold me own wheresomedever I +finds myself. And I tell 'ee, just as Squire did to-night, 'tis our duty +to cry 'Forrard' and keep on a-hollerin' so long as breath be left in +our dear bodies. We got to jine in the hunt, boys, and roll our big buck +over in open. I means, some way, to be in at death, and 'twould be a +grand privilege to slit his royal throat. I tell 'ee, one and all, that +the eyes o' the world be on Nether-Applewhite."</p> + +<p>Uncle drank some ale, amidst much applause. An old gaffer piped +up:</p> + +<p>"Neighbours and true friends, this be a wondersome time, but I makes +bold to say that we country fellers bain't properly esteemed in Lunnon +town. I minds me when I jined what they called a deppitation to that +gert city. I'd no stomach to go along, seein' as I'd no better clothes +than I stands up in to-day. But I was out-talked, sonnies, as has +happened to me by my own wife, time and time agen. We marched very +proper down such a noble street as I'd reckoned might be found in +Kingdom Come and nowheres else. And marchin' along so proud and joyous +as never was, a tremenjous, red-faced man, a-settin' top side of a 'bus, +wi' the reins in his hand, sings out: 'Halt!' Well, neighbours, we comes +to a full stop, a-lookin' up at he, and, dang me, if he don't ask a very +ridic'lous and shameless question."</p> + +<p>The old man paused solemnly, looking about him. Some had heard the +story before; one of the others said curiously:</p> + +<p>"Whatever did he say?"</p> + +<p>"He says this, sonnies, loud and clear: 'Tell me this,' he says, 'how +do they keep the crows off the wheat when you fellers comes to town?' +Neighbours, they was his words. And it struck me all of a heap as we +wasn't, so to speak, properly esteemed in Lunnon town; and, more, 'tis +hard to believe that what Habakkuk Mucklow here says is true. There be +too much i' the world, neighbours all, for it to be gapin' at we."</p> + +<p>Uncle felt that he had overstrained a figure of speech. But he dealt +faithfully with his aged interrupter.</p> + +<p>"What did 'ee up and reply to 'un, Granfer?"</p> + +<p>The old gaffer gazed around.</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! I says nothing at the time, Habakkuk Mucklow, but a very +forcible remark comes into my mind just one week too late, when I was +makin' spars in Hollywell Wood. I could ha' downscrambled 'un. 'Twas in +the month o' November that we marched so gay adown that there Regency +Street. And in November ther bain't no wheat to keep crows off. 'Twas a +shameless and very ignerunt remark."</p> + +<p>He cackled joyously as a good Samaritan refilled his glass. William +Saint, feeling cautiously the pulse of his customers, hazarded a +remark:</p> + +<p>"The likely young fellers sat together at the end of the room, and +they kept together afterwards. I see none of them here with us to-night. +What does that mean?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell 'ee," replied Uncle promptly, "and in duty bound, being so +moral a man, I means to tell Squire to-morrow marning. They be afeard, +as my Garge was, till I talked to 'un. Such talk as mine, soul-stirrin', +upliftin' words, be wanted bad in Nether-Applewhite. The young fellers +has got to fight for they as brought 'un into this wicked world. I +fought in my time, as you all knows."</p> + +<p>"Where?" asked William Saint.</p> + +<p>Uncle replied scornfully:</p> + +<p>"Never you mind where, Willum Saint. I can fight still, let me tell +'ee. If you doubts that, take off your coat and come wi' me to +stable-yard."</p> + +<p>William Saint declined politely the invitation.</p> + +<p>"Why, Uncle, I meant no offence. We all want to fight the Germans, +not to quarrel amongst ourselves. You have a glass o' ale with me."</p> + +<p>Harmony was restored. Those present, who could hardly be expected to +fight, agreed cordially that others must do the job for them. The +youngsters needed encouragement.</p> + +<p>"Wi' the end of a boot," concluded Uncle.</p> + +<p>The lecture had taken place at seven. At nine the port circulated +round Sir Geoffrey's mahogany. Hamlin was present and Lionel Pomfret. +How sadly one recalls the chatter of those early days, the high hopes, +the confidence that Might would crumble away against Right, the belief +in the steam-roller—Russia. On paper, a swift result seemed +assured. The Squire had thrown off London vapours. His own words had +intoxicated him. He admitted that recruiting might hang fire in villages +like Ocknell, but not amongst <i>his</i> people. Lionel backed him up. +Lady Pomfret and Joyce said nothing. The Parson hoped that it would be +so. When Sir Geoffrey had said everything to be said, twice over, he +turned as usual to his wife for an approving nod strangely withheld.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear Mary, you agree with me?"</p> + +<p>"About the necessity of getting men—yes. But I am not so +sanguine as you, Geoffrey, about the patriotism in our village."</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul!"</p> + +<p>"I think Mr. Hamlin shares my apprehensions."</p> + +<p>"I do," admitted the Parson gravely.</p> + +<p>Lady Pomfret continued gently:</p> + +<p>"I was talking, this afternoon, with Susan Yellam. She looks ahead. +She faces facts, as we do. But she knows the village better than we +do."</p> + +<p>"My dear——!"</p> + +<p>"I have been talking, too, with Ben."</p> + +<p>"So have I, Mary; so have I."</p> + +<p>Lady Pomfret smiled.</p> + +<p>"Are you quite sure, Geoffrey, that you have been talking with Ben, +and not at him? He is too courteous to interrupt you and too kind to +contradict you."</p> + +<p>"What does old Ben say to you?"</p> + +<p>"What Susan Yellam says. The villagers, generally, believe that our +present army and navy can beat a world in arms against us. You disabused +them of that this evening, but Captain Davenant undid some of your +stitches."</p> + +<p>The Squire fumed a little.</p> + +<p>"The old boy let them have it straight from the shoulder."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. Personally, I deplore such methods."</p> + +<p>"Sheep have to be yapped into the fold."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if Mr. Hamlin thinks so?"</p> + +<p>Thus challenged, Hamlin spoke—tentatively.</p> + +<p>"I have never been able to regard men and women as animals. I admit a +superficial similarity. Dogs are nearest to us, but what an Atlantic +stretches between us and them! Would any training turn a Pekinese into a +pointer? Or a pug into a greyhound? But you can train any child, of any +nationality, into what you reasonably please, provided always that you +are dealing with a sound mind in a sound body. Sheep, under certain +conditions, have to be yapped into folds, because they are sheep. The +Prussian system yaps men into the ranks. I would sooner try other +methods."</p> + +<p>The Squire inclined his handsome head.</p> + +<p>"Try your own methods, Hamlin, and good luck to you."</p> + +<p>He answered quietly: "I shall try them next Sunday."</p> + +<p>"You don't say so? From the pulpit?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"I approve with all my heart."</p> + +<p>For the moment it rested there. Lionel began to talk of his coming +campaign. The elder men and both the women, wife and mother, listened to +his young, eager voice. How keen he was! How sure of himself and of his +men, particularly the men. He talked persistently of Mr. Thomas Atkins, +of his artful divagations in peace and his whole-souled valour in war. +Hamlin reflected that it was good to listen to such talk, good to be +young and valiant, at such a time, good even to die, if the supreme +sacrifice were demanded, clean of limb and mind, leaping joyously +upward, unfettered by disease or vice, <i>fit</i>—to use the boy's +own word—for the greatest adventure of all.</p> + +<p>He heard his own boy speaking, just such another! Britain had +thousands of them, the fine flower of careful training, of a courtesy +constantly exercised, of a courage sharpened to finest edge by the +grindstone of games and sports, of an intelligence not quite so keenly +tempered, but alert enough in moments of stress, of a "morale" which +nothing could dismay.</p> + +<p>Surely they would be invincible?</p> + +<p>When Lionel waxed anecdotal, Hamlin's thoughts wandered to the women. +He had been a stalwart champion of the "Cause," till the militant +suffragettes took to smashing windows and smacking policemen. One effect +of the war, and no inconsiderable national asset, was the subsidence of +these tempestuous petticoats, never to flutter again, so he hoped. From +women this essentially virile parson had always expected and exacted +great things. The true prosperity of any country, so he held, flowed +from them and culminated in them. He had recognised, even at college, +their immeasurable potentialities—a favourite word of his. To +ignore their claims, politically, he contended in and out of print, was +a colossal blunder. But, quite apart from the granting or withholding of +female suffrage, he desired ardently to see women doing intelligently +and thoroughly the work peculiarly their own, whether as matrons or +spinsters. The death-rate amongst babies appalled him; the physique of +young girls overworked in over-crowded, over-heated factories and shops +roused this austere parish priest to fever-heat. He had marvelled at the +astigmatic insight displayed by sincere statesmen and philanthropists, +an insight ludicrously so-called, which overlooked women as the +mightiest lever to raise and regenerate a nation.</p> + +<p>And now, in the dim twilight of a world in gloom, he perceived a +beacon steadily shining. The women would have their opportunity. One +could adumbrate triumph or disaster by the effort, sustained or +otherwise, made by them. The men would play their part, if the +inspiration of the women lay behind them. And in the inevitable +dislocations of all human enterprise, both during and after the war, he +beheld women stimulating the men either upward or downward, for good or +ill, according to the spirit which burned within them.</p> + +<p>He gazed at Lady Pomfret and his daughter Joyce, as their eyes dwelt +upon the son and husband about to sail for France. He could guess what +sensibilities lacerated their hearts. Outwardly, each remained calm. +They would be so when the moment of parting came, speeding their warrior +on his way with smiles, keeping back the tears till he was out of +sight.</p> + +<p>Hamlin walked home across the park, and let himself into the Vicarage +with his latch-key. It was past eleven, and, to his surprise, Fancy had +not gone to bed. As she lit his candle he chided her with the touch of +testiness which had ceased to frighten her.</p> + +<p>She said quickly:</p> + +<p>"I wanted to see you, sir."</p> + +<p>"See me at nearly midnight? What about? Surely to-morrow morning +would do?"</p> + +<p>"I wanted to sleep well to-night."</p> + +<p>Without a word, he led the way into his study, and lighted two more +candles.</p> + +<p>"Sit down," he commanded. "You look tired."</p> + +<p>"I feel excited like, sir."</p> + +<p>He examined her more attentively, noticing the dilation of her +pupils, so marked as to alter her expression. Big black eyes seemed to +be burning out of a white face, but he attributed this seeming <ins +title="'pallour' in the original">pallor</ins> to an ill-lit room.</p> + +<p>"What excites you, Fancy?"</p> + +<p>"I sat with Alfred Yellam at the back of school-house amongst the +young fellows."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Before Alfred left me, he told me to tell you, sir, that the young +fellows was not too well pleased with what Captain Davenant said. Alfred +was real vexed at their remarks. He thought you did ought to know."</p> + +<p>"I'm much obliged to Alfred for a timely hint. But couldn't this have +kept till the morning?"</p> + +<p>"There's something else, sir."</p> + +<p>"Out with it!" He smiled more encouragingly.</p> + +<p>"After Alfred went, Molly told me as everybody in village was saying +as how George Mucklow's father <i>made</i> him go, and that upset the +other young men.... And then...."</p> + +<p>Her soft voice faltered and died away.</p> + +<p>"And then...?"</p> + +<p>"Molly and me fell to talking about Mr. Edward."</p> + +<p>The sympathy in her voice was almost too much for the Parson. He +shaded his eyes with his hand. She continued in a lower tone:</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, sir, for asking you something, but I do want to know so +bad."</p> + +<p>"Ask your question, Fancy."</p> + +<p>"Did you tell Mr. Edward to go?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Ah! He wanted to go, and you didn't raise a finger to prevent him. +If you had, maybe he'd have stayed."</p> + +<p>"I—I don't think so."</p> + +<p>The Parson's voice was not too steady. How sorely he had been tempted +to raise that finger none would ever know. Fancy went on, +breathlessly:</p> + +<p>"Molly and me thinks that those who can least be spared may have to +go, if—if the others hold back."</p> + +<p>"I see. You are thinking of your Alfred?"</p> + +<p>He lowered his hand, looking straight at her.</p> + +<p>"If you please, sir. He be terrible put out at the others hanging +back."</p> + +<p>"I give my opinion for what it is worth, Fancy. In these deep matters +none can speak for another. I do not presume to speak for Alfred. But +Lord Kitchener, if he were here, would assure you that Alfred is +certainly not needed yet, nor likely to be for a long time."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir. That does hearten me. But, if he should want to go, +and if—if he left it to me, what should I do? What ought I to +do?"</p> + +<p>Her big eyes were flaming with interrogation. The Parson dared not +temporise with her. All his thoughts concerning women seemed to have +become focussed on this individual case. All that the finest gentlewomen +in the Empire were feeling expressed itself poignantly from the mouth of +his parlourmaid. All his convictions concerning the potentialities of +the soul became fortified. They burst suddenly into full flower. Yet he +answered curtly, distrustful of sentiment when tremendous issues were at +stake.</p> + +<p>"You will tell him, Fancy, to act according to the dictates of his +own conscience."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that you will tell him that, regardless of your own +feelings?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>She got up, begging his pardon for keeping him out of bed. As he rose +from his chair, he wondered what he could say to comfort her; some word +of solace that might woo sleep to her tired brain. They went together +into the small hall. He took her hand.</p> + +<p>"Have courage and faith. Pray that these may be vouchsafed to you and +to all of us. Something tells me that you have both already. And if so, +Fancy, it is well with you. Good-night."</p> + +<p class="p5">"Good-night, sir."</p> + +<h3><a name="Ch9"></a>CHAPTER IX</h3> + +<h4>PARSON'S METHODS</h4> + +<p class="p2">Next day, immediately after breakfast, Sir Geoffrey +summoned his two footmen and the odd man, so called because he does odd +jobs in a big establishment and works harder for less pay than any other +servant except, possibly, the scullery-maid. The first footman, Alfred +Rockley, had married recently his cousin, Prudence, and, for the moment, +the Squire regarded him as ineligible for service elsewhere. Charles, +the second footman, was held by the Squire to be an oaf, sadly in need +of barrack-yard discipline; the odd man had been taken from the Home +Farm, and felt more at home in a barn than in the pantry.</p> + +<p>They had attended the lecture of the previous evening.</p> + +<p>Sir Geoffrey marshalled them in front of him, as he sat at his desk, +and said genially:</p> + +<p>"Now, Alfred, what do you think about joining up?"</p> + +<p>The gallant fellow answered promptly:</p> + +<p>"I'm ready to enlist with Captain Pomfret, Sir Geoffrey."</p> + +<p>"So he told me, and it warmed the cockles of my heart. But you have a +wife and——"</p> + +<p>"Somebody else coming, Sir Geoffrey," added a true son of +Nether-Applewhite.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; a hint of that reached me, and I was much pleased. Babies, +b'Jove, ought to command premiums nowadays. Under the circumstances, +Alfred, you can go back to the pantry. Single men must march first."</p> + +<p>Alfred thanked the Autocrat, and withdrew. Charles happened to be the +Squire's godson, and not a credit to his sponsor. Sir Geoffrey stared at +his bovine face, now exhibiting a grin which might be seen at funerals +and on all momentous occasions, a grin indicating nervousness and +apprehension. If Sir Geoffrey could have looked through a very massive +desk, he would have reprimanded Charles for standing on one foot and +scratching his calf with the other.</p> + +<p>"What do you propose to do, Charles?"</p> + +<p>"I be thinking, Sir Gaffrey."</p> + +<p>"Good. I want my people to exercise such thought as God has given to +'em. What conclusion have you come to—hey?"</p> + +<p>"Mother don't fancy me going for a soldier."</p> + +<p>"Possibly not. But this is a case for your conscience, not for your +mother's fancy."</p> + +<p>He spoke with increasing testiness.</p> + +<p>"I be thinking, Sir Gaffrey," he repeated, with a still broader +grin.</p> + +<p>"Very well. Off with you! Think hard for the next twenty-four hours, +and I'll see you again."</p> + +<p>"Yas, Sir Gaffrey."</p> + +<p>Charles withdrew, still grinning, and joined Alfred in the pantry, +where he used encarmined language which provoked a rebuke from the +middle-aged butler who had stepped into Fishpingle's shoes.</p> + +<p>Sir Geoffrey eyed the odd man.</p> + +<p>"What have you to say, my lad?"</p> + +<p>"I ain't going to the wars, I ain't."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you ain't going to the wars? Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because I'm quite satisfied with my place, sir."</p> + +<p>"By the way, what's your name?"</p> + +<p>"William Busketts."</p> + +<p>"To be sure. Unmarried?"</p> + +<p>"I'm walking out with Jemima Pavey, a very respectable young +woman."</p> + +<p>"What does Jemima Pavey say about it?"</p> + +<p>"She thinks with me, sir. Most of us think the same, as we ain't +ready to go to furrin' parts. If the Kayser invades Old England, I'm +ready to shoulder gun, stand behind a tree, as brave as my neighbours, +and take a true shot at 'un."</p> + +<p>Sir Geoffrey stared at him. Did all the young men in his beloved +village think this? And, if so, how was Authority going to deal with +such a lot of damned fools? He said slowly:</p> + +<p>"Has it occurred to you, my lad, that if able-bodied men like you +refuse to enlist willingly, they will be made to do so? +Willy-nilly——!"</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h, you're talking of conscription, sir. Old England won't never +stand that. 'Tis devilish Proosianism, so they tell me."</p> + +<p>"Who has told you that? Answer me!"</p> + +<p>"I have heard William Saint say so."</p> + +<p>Sir Geoffrey suppressed an oath. That William Saint, a former servant +of his own, a tenant, a trusted friend, b'Jove! should so poison men's +minds at such a time seemed incredible. If this were true, the world was +indeed upside down. He fidgeted in his chair; his face flushed; wrath +bubbled within him. He began to despair of his fellow-countrymen. +However, he choked down his rising rage and said freezingly:</p> + +<p>"You can go, sir."</p> + +<p>"Where to?"</p> + +<p>"Back to your work for the present."</p> + +<p>William Busketts retreated, slightly moithered, but more at ease. He +had expected an explosion, followed by the "sack."</p> + +<p>Sir Geoffrey leaned back in his chair, sorely discomfited. It would +be pleasant to record that happier fortune awaited him in his stables, +in his gardens, and at the Home Farm; but truth will leap from her well +on rare occasions. Out of all the young men interviewed upon this +memorable morning, young men more or less dependent upon the will and +whim of their interlocutor, only one promised to enlist forthwith. The +others touched their caps, bobbed their heads, and professed themselves +willing to do anything except bear arms for their country.</p> + +<p>Luncheon at Pomfret Court, accordingly, was not a very cheery meal. +The Squire sat silent and abstracted; the troubles in his brain upset +his appetite.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon, he called upon Captain Davenant, whom he found +apoplectic with indignation. The Captain had a modest establishment, but +he had discharged two men who—so the Captain +affirmed—preferred to guzzle ale when a unique opportunity for +sticking pig was held out to them.</p> + +<p>"Country's rotten," concluded the Captain. "It may be saved by the +gentlemen, by God! sir, but not by our yokels."</p> + +<p>The Squire protested against this, saying, mildly for him:</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, Davenant, our methods are at fault."</p> + +<p>"That be damned!" roared the Captain.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, it's fairly obvious that so far our recruiting campaign +has not been an overwhelming success. Hamlin means to have a go at 'em +on Sunday. I haven't a notion how he'll tackle the job, but there it is. +What is your opinion of William Saint?"</p> + +<p>"A very shifty fellow, Pomfret, with a face the colour of skilly. He +licks your boots. I wouldn't let him black <ins title="'mind' in the +original">mine</ins>. By the way, I've promised Habakkuk Mucklow +half-a-sovereign for every cove he collars."</p> + +<p>"That we should have come to such a pass!"</p> + +<p>"Light a fresh cigar, and we'll go to the stables. When I'm fed up +with mankind, I always take a squint at my gees."</p> + +<p>"So do I, Davenant. But they'll have to go, too."</p> + +<p>"Mine are ready for 'em."</p> + +<p>This talk took place in mid-September, at a moment when an +astrologer, doing a roaring trade not far from Piccadilly Circus, +predicted confidently that the final disappearance of the All-Highest +would take place upon the twenty-fifth day of October, 1914! Many +believed him. And the mere sight of our splendid regulars route-marching +over country roads, singing "Tipperary" as they swung along, deepened in +the hearts of those who beheld them the conviction that French's Army +was quite sufficient to stem the Hun tide, and, later on, sweep it back +to Berlin. The pacifist press was widely read by men who had never +looked at a newspaper before.</p> + +<p>Unspeakable atrocities had begun in prostrate Belgium. Some refused +to credit them. Others shrugged their shoulders and remarked blandly +that war was not five o'clock tea. Out of the seething mass of +contradictions, affirmations, exaggerations and recriminations, men in +the rural districts who could hardly read and write were invited to step +forward and abandon the beaten tracks. Can one blame them, to-day, that +they shrank at first from a desperate plunge into the unknown?</p> + +<p>Upon the following Sunday, Nether-Applewhite Church was crowded to +the galleries.</p> + +<p>All over the country, churches were filling up or emptying according +to the virtue that emanated from the preachers of God's Word. One +wonders whether ministers of the Gospel apply this numerical test to +themselves. It is certain, however, that those, like Hamlin, whether in +Church or Chapel, who laid aside for the moment merely Biblical <ins +title="'exigesis' in the original">exegesis</ins> and the expounding of +doctrine and dogma, and concentrated spiritual and intellectual energies +upon dealing faithfully with the problem of human conduct as affected by +a catastrophic war, had no reason to complain that they addressed empty +pews.</p> + +<p>Captain Davenant read the Lessons as if he were declaiming the Riot +Act. The good man believed that the young men present were shirking +hounds to be rated and whipped up to their Master. Under the lash of his +rasping voice, even Mrs. Yellam, louder in fervent response than usual, +winced and frowned. The Parson, in his three-decker, wondered whether a +discreet hint would serve to tone down the zeal of this militant +Christian, who positively wallowed in the slaughters and comminations of +the Old Testament. The Captain, as a stout upholder of Church and Crown, +must be handled delicately; a dry old stick breaks so easily. Uncle sat +with his wife in the Mucklow pew, half-way down the nave. He carried a +high head, and thought of the half-sovereigns soon to be rattling in and +out of his pocket. Jane sat beside him, sniffing audibly. Alfred Yellam +and Fancy Broomfield were opposite to each other, with the aisle between +them.</p> + +<p>Hamlin ascended the pulpit.</p> + +<p>He chose for his text a maxim of Bishop Berkeley:</p> + +<p>"Where the heart is right, there is true patriotism."</p> + +<p>The shuffling of skirts and occasional coughs soon died down. Sir +Geoffrey, from his coign of vantage in the chancel, perceived with some +astonishment that Hamlin had a script on the cushion in front of him. As +a rule he preached without notes. The Squire inferred rightly that the +Parson deemed his theme to be of such paramount importance that he +distrusted the effect of one careless, unconsidered word. Hamlin, +however, possessed long sight. He could read his typewritten sheets +without lifting them. Few in the congregation were aware of them.</p> + +<p>He began with the curt statement that the actual word "patriotism" is +not to be found in the Bible. This challenged attention immediately. The +Squire fidgeted. He considered that Hamlin had made a shockingly bad +start. A weapon had been thrust into the hands of recalcitrants. This +apprehension, however, vanished as the preacher set forth convincingly, +in words that children could understand, the obsessing love of country, +of the Promised Land, which informed and sustained God's Chosen People +during forty weary years in the wilderness. With a swift transition, he +passed to the New Testament, dwelling, with more insistence, upon the +love that had inspired simple, obscure men to forsake home, country and +kindred, to fight God's battles in new and strange countries. When he +paused, before touching his real theme, he had the ears of his +congregation. He indulged in no gestures, his familiar tones fell +quietly. So far, what he had said was preparatory, novel neither in +theme nor treatment. None knew better than he how sadly his parishioners +were lacking in imagination. His success, as a preacher, had not been +gained by dealing with abstractions or by inviting ill-educated persons +to transplant themselves to surroundings and conditions which the wisest +of moderns find difficulty in apprehending. Hamlin believed in the +personal appeal.</p> + +<p>He leaned forward out of his pulpit, gazing keenly at the faces +upturned to his.</p> + +<p>"I am wondering," he said slowly, "how many of you young unmarried +men will be here a few Sundays from now?"</p> + +<p>He paused again. His voice was gentler:</p> + +<p>"I am wondering, also, what the mothers and sisters and sweethearts +of these young men are thinking to-day, and what part they mean to +play—to-morrow." Then he said austerely: "Where the heart is +right, there is true patriotism."</p> + +<p>Many hearts began to beat faster, as he went on, picking his way, +pausing again and again, but never faltering. The Squire, upright in his +comfortable chair, became conscious of the man's grip upon everybody +present, gentle and simple. He could see their tense faces.</p> + +<p>"I have never doubted one great thing. I believe in the soul and its +immortality. In God's sight all souls are equal, because they are part +of Him. From birth that soul is struggling to inform the body, in all +its functions. It never tires; it never despairs. I dare to affirm that +it is most active when body and mind are fighting against it, spurning +it, denying, perhaps, its very existence or power. I affirm, further, +that this quickening spirit within us may be least potent to achieve its +purpose when body and mind are stagnant, steeped in apathy, content with +the things of this earth, food, drink, clothes, money +and—pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Try to believe, for a moment, that your souls are omnipotently +right. In the text I have chosen, Bishop Berkeley uses the word 'heart.' +I take it that he meant mind. Are your minds right? Are they working in +harmony with your souls? Each of you is called upon to answer that +question in relation to this world-war, and what that war may demand of +each of us. It is the duty of some of you to go, not grudgingly, not +because pressure is brought to bear upon you, not because you want to +pose before others as more valiant than they are, not for any selfish +reason whatever, but in the same spirit which informed the apostles, men +like yourselves, hard workers, absorbed, as you are, in their own +affairs, who abandoned everything with one unswerving purpose before +them—the regeneration of a world in pain.</p> + +<p>"A great Cause is animating all of us.</p> + +<p>"This war may inspire some of you to actions undreamed of in days of +peace, to a valour which you cannot measure if you would, because the +hour provoking it has not yet come. Sooner or later that hour comes to +the greatest and the humblest. And the manner of our rising to it may +shape anew our lives and other lives, and determine our progress here +and hereafter. From the cradle to the grave, each of us carries a +sleeping energy capable of immense expansion, which wakes when the great +opportunity presents itself.</p> + +<p>"Some of you, I daresay, are unconscious of this latent power. We +don't expect much of a child, do we? A child eats and plays and sleeps. +But children of the tenderest years have performed amazing, incredible +deeds. Why? Because of this Divine fund of spiritual force. And we who +are past middle-age; how difficult it is to say, with any certainty, how +early we began, resolutely, to exercise what is called the human +will.</p> + +<p>"I ask you again, are your hearts right? I repeat again that your +souls are right. Obey the voice of conscience, and it will be well with +you. It is the duty of some of us to stay here in Nether-Applewhite. I +wish with all my heart that I could go, but I must stay. A very solemn +obligation rests with the women. I have never doubted the immense +influence consciously or unconsciously exercised by you women over men. +Are your hearts right? Do you realise, thinking, as you must do, of your +dependence upon your bread-winners, that you may be hindering instead of +helping those whom you love; that, in urging them to stay at home, you +may be taking from them an opportunity to rise to their full stature, +never to be offered again?</p> + +<p>"What does Bishop Berkeley mean by <i>true</i> patriotism?</p> + +<p>"Are the Germans true patriots? Let us admit that they are passionate +lovers of their Fatherland. But their patriotism would seem to be an +insensate fury of self-interest, shrinking from no outrage to be +inflicted on others, provided only that the material end be +accomplished—world-dominion. I cannot bring myself to speak, +before young women and children, of the atrocities deliberately wreaked +upon helpless Belgians. They are so abominable that details are +unprintable in clean newspapers.</p> + +<p>"Is, then, their form of patriotism true?</p> + +<p>"What form will your patriotism take? Will it be true, springing to +life and strength, out of a right mind inspired by the soul; or will it +pattern itself after the Prussian model, concerning itself with material +gain regardless of spiritual loss?</p> + +<p>"Ask yourself these things.</p> + +<p>"Before I close I want to say this. For many years I have worked +amongst you, in sickness and in health, in prosperity and adversity, and +your welfare is dear to me. Sometimes I have felt discouraged, acutely +sensible of failure and disappointment. For many of you I have cherished +ambitions, and some of these have been realised. And it is this which +has sustained and fortified me in the dark hours which none can escape. +What one can do may be done by another; not in the same way, perhaps, +but in the same direction—upward and onward. I believe, with all +the faith that is in me, that you will rise, with right and steadfast +hearts, to meet this stupendous emergency. I am at your service. My +house is open to you when I am in it. If you want counsel, if you feel +perplexed, as you may well do, come to me, and together we will attempt +to find a way. I shall not appeal to any one of you, personally."</p> + +<p>The congregation filed out of the church. Many walked home in +silence. Alfred Yellam booked no orders in the churchyard on that +Sunday. Susan Yellam smelt no odour of baked meats as she passed the +baker's. Uncle, after greeting them not so exuberantly as usual, said +with conviction:</p> + +<p>"A very moving and proper discourse. 'Tis strange that me and Pa'son +do think just alike. I felt as I might ha' been preaching that upliftin' +sermon myself. His motter be mine—upward and onward! He be +counting on me to play my part, and I shan't disapint 'un."</p> + +<p>His wife said tartly:</p> + +<p>"There be one preacher you'll never disappoint, Habakkuk."</p> + +<p>"You means Pa'son?"</p> + +<p>"I means—yourself."</p> + +<p>Uncle laughed, patting her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Old dear, I've heard 'ee make more foolish remarks."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam said no word about the sermon till the midday meal was +over. When Alfred had lighted his pipe, she came and sat near him.</p> + +<p>"Alferd?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mother?"</p> + +<p>"There be moments when Mr. Hamlin do soar, so to speak, high above +me. I be a very unhappy 'ooman this day."</p> + +<p>Alfred opened his mouth and left it open, gaping with amazement. The +Parson's sermon had moved him to the marrow, particularly the references +to the women, because he was well aware of the influence exercised over +him by his mother and Fancy, the more percolating because he never +admitted it except to himself. Nevertheless he knew that his mother was +subject to moods and tenses which no ordinary man could conjugate. She +held herself strictly to account upon matters affecting conduct, +somewhat complacently aware that less robust spirits cited her as a +model. Her cocksureness about others, oddly enough, accentuated +pitifully her private opinion about Susan Yellam. From time to time +Alfred alone was privileged to behold this strong woman self-shorn of +her strength. He could remember well a terrible fortnight after Lizzie +died, when Mrs. Yellam lay in bed and refused even his efforts to +console her. The remembrance of her grim, set face came back to him now, +as he stared mutely at her, wondering what he ought to say, and +miserably conscious that the situation lay far beyond him.</p> + +<p>Why should his mother be unhappy?</p> + +<p>Had he been a student of history, he might have reflected that +Boadicea, possibly, ruled wisely everybody except herself.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam continued:</p> + +<p>"I have the notion that Mr. Hamlin expects too much o' me."</p> + +<p>"What a queer, upsetting idea!"</p> + +<p>"I be asking myself if my heart be right. It bain't."</p> + +<p>"Maybe 'tis your stomach, Mother."</p> + +<p>"No, Alferd. I be no true patriot."</p> + +<p>"Well, I never! If such a woman as you are is bogged down, where are +we, I ask?"</p> + +<p>"You be in the right path, Alferd. 'Tis some comfort to think o' +that. Now, let me bide wi' my own thoughts. Fancy be waiting for 'ee. Be +kind to the maid, Alferd, if so be as you find her, like me, down on +beam ends after this marning's sermon."</p> + +<p>"Fancy'll be all right, I wager."</p> + +<p>"Maybe. I tell 'ee this: we women be fearfully and wonnerfully +made—a puzzle to ourselves and all mortal men. That be a fact, my +son. I knows this too hard for any man to understand. If you stayed on +here wi' me, wi' the whole-souled notion o' comforting an unhappy +'ooman, I should wax peevish wi' 'ee. God forgive us! We be cruel to +they we love, when life goes wrong wi' us."</p> + +<p>Alfred wisely had a squint at his motor-'bus to hearten himself up, +and then took the road to the Vicarage.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam cleared away the dinner-things and washed them up. It was +too early, as yet, to expect visitors. She went into the parlour and +opened the big Bible, staring at Alfred's name and her own. She had rid +herself of him cleverly. Had he stayed, she would have broken down. She +wanted to make him swear to remain in Nether-Applewhite. She had made up +her mind to do so that very morning. Every word spoken by the Parson +seemed to be directed at her; his chance shafts quivered in the heart +that was not right.</p> + +<p class="p5">She closed the Bible.</p> + +<h3><a name="Ch10"></a>CHAPTER X</h3> + +<h4>FANCY'S ORDEAL</h4> + +<p class="p2">Parson's methods bore fruit. Within the week several young +men came forward, and certain young women, on their own initiative, +formed a small society to encourage enlistment. Uncle claimed two or +three half-sovereigns from Captain Davenant to which, possibly, he was +not entitled. The Captain raised a protest against one case, having +specific information that female influence had been diligently at work. +Uncle laughed.</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! That be true, Captain. But 'twas me as talked first to the +young 'ooman, training her, so to speak, and puttin' my brave words into +her pretty mouth. But I bain't one to keer about money. Everybody knows +that. I be working as never was for my whole Sovereign, King Garge, not +for half 'uns."</p> + +<p>Captain Davenant paid the extra half-sovereign. Uncle's disarming +grin proved irresistible.</p> + +<p>Ultimately, Nether-Applewhite did better than contiguous villages. In +Ocknell, with an impoverished squire and a nonentity for a parson, no +young men came forward during the first three months.</p> + +<p>About Christmas, George Mucklow returned home on leave, hardly +recognisable. Nether-Applewhite was impressed by his martial bearing, +when he strode down the village street, cocking his head at a +much-admired angle, with his buttons shining in the sun. Young Hamlin, +with a corporal's stripes upon his arm, had leave at the same time. +George and he received an ovation, wandering in and out of the cottages, +talking and laughing as if war were the greatest lark in the world. +Recruiting was much stimulated. The girls liked to be seen with a "boy" +in khaki.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Lionel Pomfret had been with the gallant Seven Divisions, +sharing their hardships and glories. He wrote home in good spirits, +making light of what he had endured, but a postscript in a letter +received in early December was illuminating.</p> + +<p>"At present I feel that when I return to Nether-Applewhite I shall +never want to leave it again. All the German prisoners taken by our men +are fatly content. One chap, formerly a barber at Nottingham, told me +that he'd been looking for us ever since he joined up!"</p> + +<p>Perhaps the proudest moment of Lady Pomfret's life came to her when +she visited a wounded Green Jacket at Netley, who had been in Lionel's +company. The man said to her:</p> + +<p>"During the retreat from Mons, my lady, the Captain kept up all our +spirits, laughing at us and chaffing us. We loved him."</p> + +<p>So far, Lionel had not been touched, but, much to the anxiety of his +mother, he never mentioned his own health. She knew how delicate his +lungs were. Would they stand the cruel rigours of the trenches in +mid-winter?</p> + +<p>She was now established as the Commandant of the Red Cross Hospital, +and wore a red uniform which became her vastly well. For three months, +preceding Christmas, wounded Belgians were cared for and entertained by +the devoted band of women who rallied round the lady of the manor. Jane +Mucklow cooked for the wounded; Susan Yellam was installed as +bottle-washer in chief. Sir Geoffrey would march through the Long Saloon +and wonder where he was. All the beautiful furniture and porcelain had +been put away. Nine cots on each side of the stately room stood side by +side. In the centre was a large table covered with puzzles and +paraphernalia for indoor games. At smaller tables the convalescents +played interminably at cards, piquet and écarté. They amused each other +very well, not so dependent upon their entertainers as the Tommies who +succeeded them. One man sang beautifully; another wrote admirable verse. +Before the war, the versifier had been on the staff of a Brussels +newspaper. All these men were unanimous about one thing—an <i>idée +fixe</i>. They hoped and prayed that they might never be asked to fight +again. Some declared their intention of remaining for ever and ever in +England. It was heart-breaking to listen to their accounts of ravished +and pillaged Belgium.</p> + +<p>Above them hung the famous French prints. Beautiful, laughing dames +and exquisite cavaliers looked down upon bandaged heads and shattered +limbs. The contrast never failed to strike Sir Geoffrey. His prints +stood for life as he had known it, gay, easy, refined, cultivated, +essentially aristocratic. Was the Old Order, which he loved, passing +inexorably out of sight? Would life, after the war, cease to be +leisurely and easy for the upper classes? Would the payment of a +stupendous National Debt fall upon them? And, if so, how would it be +met? Would a triumphant democracy divide up the big estates? Could they +be run properly upon diminished rent-rolls?</p> + +<p>He confronted these questions ill at ease inwardly. Outwardly, as he +had assured his wife, he carried "a stiff tail." The politeness of the +Belgians oppressed him. If he came into the ward and addressed a man +lying in bed, the poor fellow would struggle to sit up and salute him. +One cheery-faced boy, with eight wounds, passed the time laughing and +crying; then he would fall asleep, smiling in his sleep like a +child.</p> + +<p>But recruiting had been damped down by Authority, because housing and +equipment were so short. Sir Geoffrey was not encouraged to stump the +county—as he offered to do—and deliver his lecture. His old +school-fellow at the War Office gave him a hint:</p> + +<p>"We want the men, but not too many at once."</p> + +<p>In the village, women not engrossed with Red Cross work sewed +feverishly upon shirts and pyjamas, and knitted comforters. The Squire +examined some of the pyjamas, and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Thank God! I don't have to wear them."</p> + +<p>Shooting and hunting and football went on much as usual, to the +amazement of our French Allies. Some of our cavalry regiments in France +wanted to import a pack of hounds. The French Mandarins forbade it.</p> + +<p>Early in January, a curt telegram from the War Office reached Sir +Geoffrey, as he stood in the hall, after a day in his coverts, shooting +cock-pheasants.</p> + +<p>"Lionel Pomfret wounded, degree not stated."</p> + +<p>Next morning, Sir Geoffrey hastened to London and to the War Office. +No details were forthcoming. The men he saw were kind and sympathetic. +Captain Pomfret might be badly wounded, but the odds were against that. +The anxious father couldn't find out where his son was, or even where he +was likely to be. He engaged rooms at a hotel and spent a wretched +afternoon at his club. Twenty-four hours dragged themselves by. He was +wondering how much longer he could bear the strain, when the second +telegram reached him.</p> + +<p class="blockquote">"Arrived Southampton. Destination unknown. Love. +<span class="smcap">Lionel</span>."</p> + +<p>The Squire, you may be sure, shared these good tidings with many +friends, who congratulated him warmly. Obviously, the wound must be +light. Exasperations followed, thick and fast. Sir Geoffrey hurried to +the War Office, and thence to the Admiralty, and finally to Waterloo, +where, eventually, he had the joy of seeing his son step out of a train, +with a much-bandaged head, but apparently fit and in the highest +spirits. A bit of shrapnel had knocked him down, inflicting a +superficial scalp-wound, which was healing rapidly. Across his overcoat +was a perfectly-defined cut made by a bullet which had missed him and +killed the man at his side. He shewed his father a scar upon his neck, +where another bullet had grazed him. Lionel talked fast and fluently. He +had been in innumerable small actions since Mons, and had seen whole +regiments cut to bits.</p> + +<p>His destination for the moment was a private hospital for officers in +Belgrave Square. There his wound was dressed, and Sir Geoffrey talked +persuasively to the Sister-in-charge and Surgeon, who, under pressure, +allowed their patient to dine with his father quietly at a club.</p> + +<p>Sir Geoffrey never forgot that dinner.</p> + +<p>War, as soldiers see it, was brought vividly home to him by a young +man who talked of indescribable horrors as if they were negligible. +Everything was accepted by Lionel as part of the "show." The father +listened, thinking of the pin-pricks which, since August, had so +irritated his sensitive skin, and felt grievously ashamed of himself. +But, in Lionel's place, with Lionel's amazing experience, he, too, was +sensible that he would talk coolly. That was part of the tradition of +the Service. Tremendous issues must be so faced.</p> + +<p>He took his son back to Belgrave Square at half-past nine.</p> + +<p>Lionel slept soundly. The Squire lay awake most of the night. +Throughout dinner, he had suppressed his feelings. And on the threshold +of the nursing-home, the father had found no other words than these:</p> + +<p>"It's jolly to have you back again, old chap."</p> + +<p>That was all, and, perhaps, enough.</p> + +<p>In bed, the Squire had no inclination to sleep. He wanted to think +things out. He wanted to adjust past and present conditions, to strike +some happy mean between them. Could he interpret the significance of +this never-ending slaughter? Lionel had told him of a German regiment +pushing too far ahead, and annihilated, not a man left. That had been +described, also, as a "show."</p> + +<p>More—and worse—Lionel ridiculed the suggestion of an +early peace. Kitchener was under the mark. The war was quite likely to +last five years.</p> + +<p>Five years!</p> + +<p>Men such as his son, decent, quiet, sport-loving chaps, admitted with +a laugh—with a laugh!!!—that the enemy was "hot stuff," and +that attrition would determine the end—and nothing else.</p> + +<p>Attrition.</p> + +<p>He attempted to envisage what attrition meant where millions were +engaged. Put the lot at twenty millions. How many would perish? What +Divine Purpose could be accomplished by such a holocaust?</p> + +<p>But his boy was safe for the next few weeks.</p> + +<p>Two days later he brought him back to Pomfret Court.</p> + +<p>Lionel received a soul-warming reception from gentle and simple +within and without a five-mile radius of his home. Apart from the young +man's personal charm and good looks, he happened to be the first officer +to return home wounded. The fact that the wound was not serious, that he +treated it as a convenient peg upon which to hang three weeks' leave, +made no difference. Indeed, it increased rather than diminished his +influence in Nether-Applewhite so far as recruiting was concerned. His +gay voice, his happy inconsequence, the vitality that radiated from him +as he moved briskly from cottage to cottage, or rode up to talk to men +working upon the property, achieved effects so far-reaching that +possibly Hamlin was the only man in the parish able to measure them. The +Squire and Davenant had appealed trenchantly for volunteers, using the +time-worn arguments of Authority and believing sincerely enough that +deaf ears might hear their message if it were shouted loud enough. The +Parson, wiser man, had appealed to those same ears believing, with +greater conviction, that noise and violence, veiled threats, bribery in +any form, would defeat their ends. Right action, he contended, would +come from within, at the persuasive, insistent call of conscience. +Lionel Pomfret hit the trail—to use the Western +expression—which wanders between the high road and the low. +Looking at the gallant fellow, sitting erect on his horse, it seemed +clear even to eyes dimmed by living in the twilight of unintellectual +surroundings, that he impersonated something which captivates the rural +mind more than anything else—excitement. Lionel told the +labourers, none of whom had been farther afield than Salisbury or +Southampton, stories of France bubbling over with humour and high +spirits. And if this light-heartedness had astonished his father, we can +imagine what bewilderment it begat in simpler minds. Many of them +realised that in holding back they were missing <i>fun</i>! One hardly +dares to use such a word. But it burst, like a bomb, from the lips of a +man who had been "out there," who had been "through it," who bore scars, +and who laughed at them.</p> + +<p>Many joined up; more held back.</p> + +<p>Laugh as he did about everything that concerned his own adventures +and misadventures, Lionel became intensely serious concerning the main +issue, trembling still in the balance. Kitchener of Khartoum must have +more and more men. Otherwise, the sacrifices made and the hardships +endured by the splendid Seven Divisions would be in vain, and, +ultimately, directly or indirectly, the enemy would triumph.</p> + +<p>Charles, the second footman, and the odd man, enlisted within a week +of Lionel's return home. Their places in the establishment were taken by +maids.</p> + +<p>Upon the first Sunday in February fill-dyke, Alfred Yellam walked +out, as usual, with Fancy. She had noticed, during the Morning Service, +that Mrs. Yellam's responses were not quite so fervent as usual, and the +sermon, a good one, seemed to fail to hold Alfred's attention. +Servant-maids are acute observers where their interests are concerned. +They divine a frown before the master's forehead is wrinkled; they +anticipate a harsh word before it is spoken by the mistress. Alfred +walked beside Fancy in silence. This, taken by itself, was not +disturbing. The more privileged classes often wonder why humbler couples +sitting upon benches in the parks, or walking aimlessly amongst the +trees, appear to be so satisfied with a silence which they stigmatise as +stupidity. If, on the other hand, curiosity led our Olympians to +interrogate the more thoughtful of these couples, they might be +astonished to discover that the never-ending chatter in our +drawing-rooms provokes much the same indictment from those whom they +regard as far below them. The shrill screams of laughter, the +parrot-house babble, fox-trotting, and the bacchantic waving of arms +bare to the shoulder are often summed up as—"monkey-shines." To +men and women who work desperately hard throughout the week, the +silences of Sunday steal unawares, lapping them to a rest which is real +refreshment. Fancy, for example, loved to stroll beside Alfred, feeling +his sturdy arm about her waist, and knowing from its convincing pressure +that his thoughts were dwelling upon her as hers dwelt upon him, +revelling in a future which would bring them closer together.</p> + +<p>But, to-day, somehow, his silence was not so reassuring.</p> + +<p>For the time of year, the weather happened to be mild. Spring was +abroad in the land. Fancy heard her voice in the bleating of the +new-born lambs; she beheld her in the snow-drops; Spring's sweet breath +beat upon a pink cheek when the south-west breeze sighed in the yews and +pine-tops.</p> + +<p>And yet, misgivings assailed the maid.</p> + +<p>They had walked from the Vicarage, through Nether-Applewhite, and +past Mrs. Yellam's cottage whither they would return for tea. Fancy had +learnt to love the village with its general air of sleepy, comfortable +prosperity. She would be perfectly content to live here all her days. +Occasional jaunts to Sarum or to the exciting side-shows of Boscombe and +Bournemouth could only serve to enhance the more solid charms of home. +Alfred had spoken once, at the moment when they left the <i>Sir John +Barleycorn</i> tavern behind them.</p> + +<p>"Do you like William Saint, Fancy?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Alfie. I ain't never spoken to him, nor him to me. +'Tis his face, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Mother thinks he's a danger to me."</p> + +<p>"Gracious!"</p> + +<p>"William moves with the times, a far-seeing man. And snug, with money +in bank and credit, too. Mother says he's after my business. I got ahead +by buying my motor-'bus. Yes—William Saint might have sneaked my +good business. He knows folk far and wide, as I do. That's bread and +cheese to a carrier. And he knows how to tickle 'em with pleasant words. +That's cakes and ale."</p> + +<p>He said no more. Fancy felt vaguely troubled. She had taken Alfred's +profitable business for granted. Fellow-servants and villagers had +assured her, with a sub-acid inflection underlying congratulation, that +she was lucky indeed to have got so warm a man as the carrier. Like most +of her class, she entertained nebulous ideas about how money was made, +although she had been constrained all her life to use such money as came +to her thriftily and with a very lively sense of its elusive attributes +in slipping through careless fingers. The slow building-up of a business +had never engrossed her thoughts. But she knew well enough, poor child, +how rapidly such a business may disintegrate, and fall to pieces. That +calamity had been her father's bitter experience.</p> + +<p>They followed the Avon, strolling leisurely up-stream till they +reached a small covert much beloved by hunting-men because it always +harboured a stout fox.</p> + +<p>"Let's go in wood," said Alfred.</p> + +<p>"Won't it be damp, dear?"</p> + +<p>"I want to talk to you."</p> + +<p>Her heart beat faster. Something was coming—What?</p> + +<p>Alfred led the way to a hurdler's hut, a rough shed, where the lovers +sat down upon a heap of dry chips. A delicious smell of bark filled the +air. George Mucklow had worked here often, before he was dragooned into +the Army. With the smell of bark, dominating it, rose the odour of damp +earth, always so significant, bearing its double message. From earth we +have come; to it we must return. Fancy's sensitive nose could detect yet +another odour. An ancient coat, much soiled by time and weather, had +been thrown upon the pile of chips. In an olfactory sense the coat was +eloquent of labour, of long perspiring hours and all that such hours +hold. Fancy's nostrils were not offended. But she refused to sit on it. +Alfred, wearing his Sunday best, was not so particular.</p> + +<p>He wasted little time in preliminaries. And he spoke with a geniality +assumed, as Fancy guessed, for her benefit.</p> + +<p>"The young Captain," he began, "has stirred us all up with his +pleasant tongue. Now don't jump! Let me tell my tale."</p> + +<p>He told it simply. Upon the previous Friday, it appeared, Alfred had +fallen into talk with the Pavey boys, who worked on a farm between +Nether-Applewhite and Salisbury. The Paveys were reckoned by Sir +Geoffrey to be stout specimens of sound breeding. Jemima Pavey, it may +be recalled, "walked out" with William Busketts, the odd man. It is +likely, therefore, that the enlistment of William affected profoundly +Jemima's brothers, both single, both of military age. Alfred, urged on, +no doubt, by Lionel Pomfret, had taken upon himself the task of +persuading the Paveys to follow William to the wars. According to +Alfred, a hot discussion had ensued. The Paveys were regarded by the +Squire as sound in body but weak and plastic of mind. Wiser men than the +Autocrat of Nether-Applewhite consistently underrated the intelligence +of young men like the Paveys, abnormally acute when stimulated by +self-interest. Ultimately, so Alfred said, the Paveys had twitted him +offensively upon the fact that he preached what he did not practise. +And, oddly enough, poor Alfred was not prepared for this sudden turning +of tables. He, too, was single and of military age. The fact that he +happened to be engaged in a lucrative business served to sharpen railing +tongues. At long last, after much vituperation (as Alfred admitted) on +both sides, the Paveys had delivered a momentous ultimatum. They pledged +themselves to enlist at once, if Alfred agreed to join them. More, they +were prepared to answer for half-a-dozen others. To gain time for +thought, Alfred invited them to obtain some similar pledge from these +others. And, before Service that morning, the pledge had been +forthcoming. In <ins title="'fine' in the original">time</ins>, if +Alfred donned khaki, eight of the best would follow so striking an +example. Alfred concluded pleasantly:</p> + +<p>"You see, Fancy, that I'm up against it."</p> + +<p>Engrossed with his own exciting narrative, he had failed to notice +her. From the beginning of the tale to the end, she never moved. The +impending sword had fallen upon her frail body, lacerating cruelly every +fibre of her being. All fears, all sensibilities which from birth had +differentiated her from more robust young women, sensibilities which +dwelt upon things spiritual rather than material, sensibilities which +had been further quickened by her father's unmerited misfortunes, +constraining her early in life to envisage the future as likely to hold +more pain than pleasure, these rose up and choked utterance. Had Alfred +looked at her, at this poignant moment, his decision—not as yet +reached—-might have been different. He looked away from her, +staring through the open side of the hut, seeing the rows and rows of +trees, standing like soldiers, awaiting the inevitable axe.</p> + +<p>Presently Fancy said quietly:</p> + +<p>"Have you spoken to your mother? Does she know?"</p> + +<p>Alfred turned, taking her hand. But the supreme moment had passed. +Fancy was now herself again, or rather she had become what her will and +conscience made her to appear—an outwardly calm young woman, who, +having swiftly read her own soul, was seeking to read the soul of the +man beside her.</p> + +<p>Alfred answered hesitatingly:</p> + +<p>"Mother's wonderful. I never quite understand her. I ain't said a +word, but back of her dear mind is something."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to tell her?"</p> + +<p>Alfred squirmed a little, certain that Mrs. Yellam would oppose his +going. And he could not reckon accurately what obedience he owed to a +mother in such a matter. He said gently:</p> + +<p>"Never mind that, Fancy. What do you say?"</p> + +<p>He held her hand tightly, but sat beside her rigid as she was. +Afterwards, again and again, she wondered what her reply would have been +if her lover, at such a crisis, had appealed to her body instead of to +her mind. If he had seized her in his arms, kissing her passionately, +evoking a passionate response from her, exciting her physical senses, +lulling to sleep her conscience, could she have resisted such an +appeal?</p> + +<p>It was not made. Did he deliberately leave her free to speak calmly, +as he had spoken? Was he thinking of her? Was he thinking of his mother? +Who could blame him if all thought were focussed upon himself? And his +next words confirmed her suspicion that it was impossible for any man, +at such a time, to wean consideration from issues so personal and so +insistent.</p> + +<p>"That's why I spoke to you about William Saint. If I go, Fancy, I +must find a man to take my place, see? 'Taint likely as I'll find +anybody who knows folk as I knows 'em. And if William Saint sneaks in, +maybe I won't find what I leave when I come back."</p> + +<p>He spoke very earnestly, gripping her hand. Her sympathy for him +welled up, drowning all thoughts of self. Alfred had leapt to heights. +She realised the extent of the sacrifice he might make. And she felt, +instinctively, that the sacrifice would be made. A curious exaltation +possessed her. Alfred had thrilled her soul. If he went, true +patriotism, as Mr. Hamlin interpreted the elusive word, would be behind +his going. And he looked so stolid, dear man, so unconscious of the +spiritual forces stirring within him.</p> + +<p>She said impulsively:</p> + +<p>"You mean to go, Alfie?"</p> + +<p>"If you approve."</p> + +<p>She drew a deeper breath. Then the decision rested with her. If she +burst into tears, if she flung herself into his arms, if she whispered +to him, blushingly, the arguments which come pat to any woman's tongue, +when her happiness is at stake, he would stay. The burden laid upon her +seemed greater than she could bear. Her withers were wrung. In her +perplexity she lurched here and there, staggeringly. She caught at +straws.</p> + +<p>"And if your mother disapproves?"</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! Maybe she will."</p> + +<p>"But, if she does—? Answer me, Alfie. I be hanging on your +words."</p> + +<p>He said heavily:</p> + +<p>"I ain't one for argument. I only know this, dear, if I go, others +will go, too. And the men are wanted, so Captain Lionel says. And if he +says so, 'tis so. I feel as I ought to go, if you approve. When it comes +to Mother, I'm weak-kneed. If I leave her out, Fancy, 'tis because I +know what's tearing her, the thought of the graves in churchyard. +'Tain't in Mother as 'tis in you, to stand hand in hand with me, and +forget her dear self."</p> + +<p>Desperately, she clutched at another straw.</p> + +<p>"You may be right, Alfie, about Mr. Saint—I don't like him. I +feel, someway, that he will do as you say, sneak in behind your back, +and rob you of what you have worked so hard for. Could you stand +that?"</p> + +<p>"'Twould be a rare twister, Fancy. But the men are wanted."</p> + +<p>He spoke with no fire, no enthusiasm. The men were wanted. That, +apparently, had become an obsession. Dared she temporise any further? +Was this the opportunity, never to be presented again, of which Mr. +Hamlin had spoken?</p> + +<p>"If you feel like that, Alfie, you must go. I—I couldn't lift a +finger to hold you back. I am proud," her voice faltered, "to belong to +such a man."</p> + +<p>The victory was won.</p> + +<p>Reaction followed quickly. They clung to each other. Fancy cried, +knowing that tears would lighten her heart. Alfred kissed them away. He +set himself, resolutely, the task of cheering her up. The war might be +over before he was ready to serve in France. William Saint had his own +business. One that exacted constant attention. No doubt a trusty fellow +could be found to drive the 'bus.</p> + +<p>At tea, no trace of the storm could be discerned on their smiling +faces.</p> + +<p class="p5">But Mrs. Yellam knew.</p> + +<h3><a name="Ch11"></a>CHAPTER XI</h3> + +<h4>THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS</h4> + +<p class="p2">Alfred Yellam enlisted. But only seven out of the eight +other young men enlisted with him. To the amazement of +Nether-Applewhite, Adam Mucklow, a married man, took the place of the +shirker. And this was not under pressure from Uncle, although he tried +(and failed) to "touch" old Captain Davenant for another half-sovereign. +Possibly the sight of the effulgent George—a younger brother not +held in the highest esteem by Adam—had its effect; possibly, also, +Adam had been swept off his large feet by Lionel Pomfret; possibly, +again, Hamlin's good seed may have sprouted in somewhat thin soil. +Motives must not be analysed too closely.</p> + +<p>Susan Yellam and Jane Mucklow said nothing. Susan may have realised +that protest would be wasted; Jane, probably, was just as shrewd. Each +woman cherished a bitter grievance, hiding it grimly from inquisitive +eyes. Each read the heart of the other, and still remained silent. Each, +however, was proud to be the mother of a valiant son. Mrs. Yellam never +knew that a tremendous decision had been left to Fancy. She took for +granted that Fancy felt as she did, and the pale, anxious face of the +girl confirmed this conviction. Alfred, you may be sure, made Fancy +promise to keep silence concerning what passed in the fox-covert. To her +dying day let the mother believe that the son had acted "on his own," +without consulting another. Fancy sighed and consented. What did it +matter? What did anything matter now that Alfred was going? During these +last few days, the spiritual part of her seemed dead. Triumph appeared +to have killed it! But her will prevailed over the weakness of the +flesh. Alfred must see no more tears. Her smile was the most pathetic +memory which he took with him from Nether-Applewhite.</p> + +<p>Before "joining-up," he gave two presents to the women he loved. To +his mother he brought a wire-haired fox-terrier, pure white save for one +round black spot between the ears and an oval black spot upon the loins. +The dog was nine months old and clean thoroughbred, the son of a famous +prize-winner. Alfred paid five pounds for him. Mrs. Yellam was +profoundly moved; and the dog seemed to acclaim her as mistress at +sight, jumping into her ample lap and licking her hand.</p> + +<p>"What shall we call him, Mother?" asked Alfred.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam studied the dog's lineaments. His eyes sparkled as +shrewdly as her own.</p> + +<p>"He looks wonnerful wise," she said. "Wise as Solomon, he be."</p> + +<p>"Then we'll call him—Solomon."</p> + +<p>And it was so. Solomon—soon abbreviated into "Sol"—wagged +his short tail approvingly.</p> + +<p>To Fancy Alfred presented a bicycle, and with it these words:</p> + +<p>"Vicarage is nigh three-quarters of a mile from Mother's cottage. I +want you to see Mother whenever 'tis possible. I know her. She'll keep +herself to herself, thinking her own thoughts, and they'll be hard +thoughts, Fancy. You'll help to soften 'em, dear, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I will."</p> + +<p>"Parson'll let you off, afternoons, for an hour, maybe; and the +bike'll make all the difference. I see you nipping down in no time."</p> + +<p>"I shall love that, if Mr. Hamlin can spare me."</p> + +<p>Alfred laughed gaily.</p> + +<p>"I've spoken a word to him. And a kinder gentleman, in spite of his +coldish face, I never met. He shook hands with me, and told me you +should have a whiff of fresh air."</p> + +<p>And thus it was cosily arranged.</p> + +<p>To find a responsible, capable fellow to take his place as village +carrier, and to drive the precious 'bus, was not so easy of achievement. +But this, too, was managed through Mr. Hamlin. Alfred said uneasily:</p> + +<p>"I ask you, sir, to keep an eye on William Saint."</p> + +<p>"William Saint?"</p> + +<p>"He's crafty as any fox, sir, and a rare pusher. Mother fears that he +may push himself into my good business."</p> + +<p>Hamlin promised to bear this possibility in mind. Then Alfred, with +groanings and travailings, delivered himself of the last burden on his +mind:</p> + +<p>"I'm sore troubled about Mother."</p> + +<p>Hamlin held his tongue.</p> + +<p>"She's taking this hard, but not a word does she say, not one. She +thinks, I know, that God Almighty has forsaken her, pore soul. Such a +mort o' trouble as she's had, too. My going seems the last straw. +'Twouldn't be so bad, if all the young men had gone first."</p> + +<p>"I can imagine what she feels, Alfred. This is a time of sore trial +to all of us, and, perhaps, the strongest suffer most. I will do what I +can to comfort her, but I can do so little. In all my life I have never +felt before how cheap mere words are. Now, go your way with a glad +heart. Put these anxieties from you, hopefully, and so you will do your +duty the better. God bless you!"</p> + +<p>Alfred duly departed.</p> + +<p>Before Lionel returned to France, the Squire's ardent desire was +granted. He became the happy grandfather of a stout boy, with his sire's +blue eyes and clear skin—a ten-pounder!</p> + +<p>To celebrate this glorious event, the Squire built a shrine and +dedicated it to the men of Nether-Applewhite who had answered the call +to arms. It took the form of a fountain, with a granite trough for +watering horses. Inside the fountain might be found a great slab of +white marble with the names of the young fellows, in order, inscribed +upon it in dull gold lettering, a very notable monument, as Uncle +observed. It stood below the Church, opposite to the <i>Pomfret +Arms</i>, in an open space where roads branched. Folk, from far and +near, came to look at it.</p> + +<p>From the recruiting point of view, the fountain, as was generally +admitted, furnished inspiration together with pure water to thirsty +souls.</p> + +<p>When Lionel went back to France, a drab pall of apathy settled again +upon the village. Mrs. Yellam spent every morning at Pomfret Court, +returning to her cottage after the mid-day meal, which she helped to +serve. Fancy would dash down to see her after five o'clock tea. Within +six weeks Alfred appeared in khaki, with forty-eight hours' leave. He +had joined an infantry regiment, somewhat to his regret, for he had a +leg for a kilt, and remembered the resplendent appearance of "No Account +Harry."</p> + +<p>"The Highlanders were in my mind, Mother. I'd a notion to enlist with +them, but 'twas not to be."</p> + +<p>Susan Yellam said reflectively:</p> + +<p>"I prefer the Grannydeer Guards, to they Seafarin' Highlanders, +Alfie."</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! I might have gone for a horse-soldier, but when they told me +'twould be my pleasure and duty to keep my horse cleaner than myself, I +thought twice about it. 'Tis a hard life, dear, but I feel wonderful +strong, with a tremendous stomach for my victuals."</p> + +<p>His appearance delighted Fancy.</p> + +<p>They were photographed together, arm in crook, travelling to +Salisbury as passengers in Alfred's 'bus, which provoked many jests. But +when Alfred went back to duty the corners in two hearts seemed more +empty than before.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Tommies had taken the place of Belgians at Pomfret Court, +much to the satisfaction of the maids in the village. They were an +amazing set of fellows, so the Squire decided, guests after his own +heart, always ready to crack a joke, grousing about trifles, simply +splendid when they discoursed about the war. Some of them, unlike the +Belgians, were impatient to return to the front. They talked pleasantly +of the enemy whom they spoke of generically as "Fritz." The +kindest-hearted of the first lot, a little Cockney, bubbling over with +fun and high spirits, ever ready to help the "Sisters" in any job that +came to the one hand that had not been left in France, gloried in the +distinction of having been in a bayonet charge. The Squire, much +interested, asked for details, gleefully forthcoming.</p> + +<p>"Yer see red, sir. I got after a fat 'Un. Lord lumme! 'E run a fair +treat, 'e did. But I stuck him to rights. I lost my 'ead though. +Couldn't see nothink nor nobody except 'im. In my silly 'aste I missed +some fine opportoonities."</p> + +<p>"Opportunities?"</p> + +<p>"Wounded 'Uns, sir, lyin' there to me 'and. I might 'ave 'ad +'arf-a-dozen notches on my old rifle, instead of one!"</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul!" exclaimed Sir Geoffrey.</p> + +<p>"Yer see, sir, we knows what they done to women and children."</p> + +<p>By this time. George Mucklow and the first to join were at the front, +and every Sunday, during Morning Service, Mr. Hamlin would stand up, +before the Litany, and read out the names on the Roll of Honour. The +congregation, after Service, remained quietly in the church till the +National Anthem had been sung.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam sat alone in her pew, rigidly upright.</p> + +<p>At home, alone in the evening, she talked to her dog. Solomon would +sit in front of her, staring up into her massive face, with one ear +half-cocked, very alert, very sympathetic.</p> + +<p>"You be a wondersome dog."</p> + +<p>Solomon's tail flickered.</p> + +<p>"You knows more'n they donkeys as walks on two legs."</p> + +<p>Solomon winked.</p> + +<p>"You knows what a hard old flint I be, same as I digs up in +garden."</p> + +<p>Solomon laid a protesting paw upon her knee.</p> + +<p>"You knows that I be tried beyond my powers, that I be mazed and +dazed beyond what tongue can tell."</p> + +<p>Solomon leaped into her lap, and attempted to lick her face.</p> + +<p>"No, no, Solly; my kissing days be over."</p> + +<p>Solomon refused to believe this.</p> + +<p>"You knows, too, that my Alferd be going to the wars, and he won't +come back. 'Twill kill that pore white-faced lil' maid. But 'twon't kill +me, I be too tough, Sol. I be getting tougher. And I get no taste out o' +life neither. I be so wicked that, times, I could lift my hand to kill +they who stay behind, guzzling ale, grinning because they think +theirselves so clever! I fair wonders that you can love so wicked an old +'ooman as I be."</p> + +<p>Solomon, as a last reassuring protest, would curl up and fall asleep. +Mrs. Yellam would sit on, staring into the fire, trying to adjust the +workings of the Divine Mind with her own perplexed intelligence. Often +kindly sleep would come to the rescue, and she would wake with a start +to find the fire burnt out and the kitchen cold. But Solomon lay snug +and warm against her.</p> + +<p>Many persons, besides Mrs. Yellam, were mazed and dazed during these +Spring days. At Neuve Chapelle, our cavalry had their feet in stirrup +ready to ride down the enemy, when a thick mist rolled up and balked +them of their prey. Jupiter Pluvius seemed to be fighting against us. +The appalling earthquake in Italy was joyously affirmed by Germans to be +God's judgment upon an ally who had deserted them. Strikes in the +industrial parts, Irish troubles going from bad to worse, seemed to +indicate the chastening hand of Omnipotence.</p> + +<p>But we had accomplished a mighty miracle.</p> + +<p>Five hundred thousand men were in France, and not a life lost during +the perilous operations connected with transport.</p> + +<p>And then came the crushing disaster of the <i>Lusitania</i>. A wave +of horror and rage swept over the country. Till now, Lissauer's "Hymn of +Hate" had aroused ridicule, not resentment, amongst English-speaking +peoples. The Belgian atrocities, known in all their horror to very few, +had been accepted as the handiwork of brutes driven mad by drink and +blood-lust, not as the systematic, inspired doctrine of Frightfulness. +But when all Germany rose up to justify the slaughter of helpless women +and children, when streets were beflagged, medals struck, and the +schools held holiday, the nation began, at last, to grasp the truth. +Might meant to stick at nothing.</p> + +<p>Recruiting, in the rural districts, received a sharp stimulus.</p> + +<p>Fancy, lying awake at night, shed many tears, but none before Mrs. +Yellam. The pair, so strangely different, got on well together, because, +so Susan said, the girl was not a chatter-box. Often they would meet and +part without exchanging more than a dozen words. Fancy would help with +the work, the never-ending cleaning and sweeping, or take some sewing +and sit by the kitchen fire in silence. These quiet ways endeared her +more and more to Alfred's mother, and occasionally, very seldom, Fancy +would be vouchsafed a glimpse of an indurated heart. She had noticed +that Mrs. Yellam avoided any direct reference to the Deity, Whose name, +before the war, had been so often on her lips, the personal God, Whose +guiding finger, even in trivial, domestic affairs, could be so plainly +seen. One day, on the eve of Alfred's departure for France, Fancy said +nervously:</p> + +<p>"God will be with Alfred."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam said quickly:</p> + +<p>"He be wi' the Kayser, too, seemin'ly."</p> + +<p>Instantly she closed her lips, as if fearful that more might leak +from them. Fancy remained discreetly silent. She comforted herself with +this reflection: faith in works sustained this unhappy old woman. She +laboured abundantly for others at Pomfret Court, and tended her garden +diligently so that she might have fruit and flowers and vegetables to +bestow upon poorer neighbours. In church, her responses were clear and +regular, her deportment irreproachable, but she never discussed the +sermon, once a favourite mental exercise, and Fancy came to the +conclusion that she no longer listened to it, too much obsessed by her +own perplexities.</p> + +<p>About this time Nether-Applewhite was electrified out of its apathy +by an extraordinary event, something so unexpected that Hamlin himself, +who had foreshadowed such a remote possibility in his sermon on +Patriotism, began to wonder if he had been inspired.</p> + +<p>George Mucklow won the Victoria Cross!</p> + +<p>This heavy, stolid young man, who shut both eyes when his shins were +imperilled by a cricket-ball, who was "afeard wi' maids," who had been +driven to the colours before the toe of a thick boot, performed one of +those deeds that thrill an Empire. Fortunately for him, the tremendous +opportunity of which Hamlin had spoken came at a moment when Authority +was looking on, and able to record what took place. George confessed +afterwards that at the time he didn't know what he did, or how he did +it. Out of some subconscious zone surged the irresistible impulse +blindly obeyed. A shell fell in the trenches at a moment when the +officer on duty was making his rounds. Not an "Archie" or a "Black +Maria" but something smaller than a football. Dozens of men were close +to it. George darted past the officer and hurled himself upon it.</p> + +<p><i>It didn't explode!</i></p> + +<p>Within a week, George's photograph was given pride of place in +half-a-dozen newspapers. And then the supreme decoration was conferred. +He returned home on leave; the King pinned to his tunic the bronze +cross; Jane Mucklow and Uncle witnessed the ceremony; George came back +to Nether-Applewhite with his parents, and was the hero of another +function when Sir Geoffrey Pomfret presented him with a gold watch and +chain, a tribute from the Squire of the parish, and a well-lined purse, +the gift of the parishioners.</p> + +<p>The effect on Uncle may be imagined. For ever after he associated +himself with George as owning an undivided half interest in the cross, +and in describing the glorious deed he assumed the royal plural, and +with it some of the attributes of a monarch.</p> + +<p>"Us was standing at attention," he would say, "as I be standing now, +when the dam thing falls slam-bang in front of we. Neighbours, 'twas a +moment as won't bear thinking on. Many souls all unfit for Kingdom Come. +What does we do? We falls atop o' that there cannon-ball—'twas big +enough to blow a thousand fellers to glory—and hugs it to our +buzzums. 'Tain't a thing to brag about, but us was in the noospapers, +and—and, well, you knows the end on't—Buckingham Pallis! +And, believe me or not, neighbours, but this be sober truth. Me and King +Garge was hobnobbing together for the space of one mortial minute, just +so friendly and kind as true brothers. I nodded to 'un, as I nods to +you, and, by Jo! he nods back to me."</p> + +<p>Jane Mucklow had believed that George would perish in his first +action. He had come triumphantly through half-a-dozen. And, to-day, he +wore the proudest decoration that England's King can bestow. At a bound, +she became an impassioned optimist. She discerned clearly the hand of +Providence. King George was beheld as the Lord's Anointed. Queen Mary +towered higher than he as the sacrosanct Mother. Mrs. Mucklow had her +tale to tell, and told it with Uncle's unction and satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"Queen Mary looked at my Garge as if 'twas her own dear son. Yes, she +did. And then she smiles sweetly at me. I tell 'ee this—Queeny +Mary was just so proud o' my Garge as I be. A good, kind 'ooman! I +allows that, now and again, I ha' raised my blasphemious voice against +they crowned heads, believing in my every-day way that they wore golden +crowns when we pore folks was a-wearing made-over bonnets. Such wicked +thoughts be clean gone from me. I be fair aching to sing 'God save the +Queen' next Sunday morning."</p> + +<p>A neighbour remarked timidly:</p> + +<p>"Lard bless 'ee, Jane Mucklow, we sings 'God save the King.'"</p> + +<p>Jane answered solemnly:</p> + +<p>"You sings what you please. I began my life singing 'God save the +Queen.' And I means to sing it again next Sunday."</p> + +<p>But the glory that encompassed her nephew's thick head as with a halo +flickered like a farthing dip in the mind of Susan Yellam. Her poor +heart was lacerated by envy and jealousy. If George were indeed chosen +by Providence to wear the Victoria Cross, what decoration would He award +to her Alfred? The press had laid emphasis upon George being amongst the +first to volunteer. If Queeny Mary knew the whole truth, would she have +smiled sweetly at George's mother? Not she!</p> + +<p>She laid the matter before Solomon that same night, after the +memorable function which took place at the Shrine.</p> + +<p>"Solly, my soul be in sore trouble."</p> + +<p>Solomon considered this attentively.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dog, I be setting in the seat o' the scornful. I be weary o' +my groanings. I ha' conceived sorrow and brought forth ungodliness."</p> + +<p>Solomon whined.</p> + +<p>"Why be this change come upon me, Solly? 'Tis written: Upon the +ungodly He shall rain fire and brimstone, storm and tempest. But, +to-day, seemingly, that be the lot o' the godly and the fatherless. To +the ungodly be given Victoria Crosses."</p> + +<p>Solomon sat up and begged his mistress to be silent.</p> + +<p>She concluded sorrowfully:</p> + +<p>"I be cast down, and they that trouble me will rejoice at it."</p> + +<p>Solomon leapt into her lap, and thrust his nice cold nose against her +cheek.</p> + +<p>Hamlin visited her from time to time, but as friend, not priest. +Wisely, he bided his time to speak, wondering when the right moment +would come. She received him respectfully, answered his questions, +enquired after Mr. Edward, who had just received his Sam Brown belt, and +then relapsed into exasperating silence.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Mr. William Saint had not neglected his opportunities. The +man chosen by Hamlin and Alfred to "carry on" during Alfred's absence +was sober and honest, but a poor talker. Saint bought a motor-'bus in +May, which he used at first to take passengers to and from the railway +station, some four miles distant. At the same time, he made arrangements +to entertain summer guests, renting a small house with a garden +overlooking the Avon, which served as an annexe for middle<ins +title="hyphenated in the original"> </ins>class trippers, elderly +spinsters who drew in water-colours, officers' wives with children, and +professional men seeking a little cheap fishing. Saint drove the 'bus +himself, engaging a good-looking young woman to take his place in the +bar. Now and again he made expeditions to Salisbury, filling his 'bus +with strangers who wished to see the Cathedral. Before June was out, he +started a bi-weekly trip. In July he began carrying parcels.</p> + +<p>Hamlin, accordingly, said a word to the Squire. But what could be +done? The Squire and he stuck faithfully to the regular carrier. Others +consulted their own convenience. Mrs. Yellam told Fancy that Alfred's +business was steadily diminishing in volume.</p> + +<p>"Have you told Alfred?" asked Fancy.</p> + +<p>"No. And don't 'ee tell him, neither."</p> + +<p>"Not me. Anyways, so long as dear Alfred be safe and well, I shan't +worry about money matters."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam said tartly:</p> + +<p>"Folks wi' no money to lose can allers sleep sound at nights." Then, +realising that she had slapped an innocent cheek, she added in a +pleasanter voice: "If Alferd keep safe and well, he'll downscramble this +raskil so soon as he be homealong."</p> + +<p>Fancy kissed her.</p> + +<p>"He will be homealong soon," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"How do 'ee know? You ain't got a letter saying so?"</p> + +<p>"N-n-no."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam's voice became testy again.</p> + +<p>"Then how do 'ee know?"</p> + +<p>Fancy hesitated, blushing. But Mrs. Yellam pressed her point. +Finally, the girl made confession. When Alfred went to France, she had +consulted the cards.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam exploded. What ridiculous notions young maids got, to be +sure! Cards, indeed! Very scornfully, she informed Fancy of the +existence of a so-called wise woman, half-gypsy, who lived in a +tumble-down cottage at Ocknell.</p> + +<p>"You go and see that old grammer. 'Twill cost 'ee sixpence. For a +shillin' she'll tell 'ee a fine fortin, marry 'ee to a young lord, and +make 'ee the mother o' nine children. I ha' no patience wi' such +tricks."</p> + +<p>Fancy said humbly:</p> + +<p>"Alfred thinks it foolishness, just as you do, but ..."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"The lady in Salisbury, as taught me, did say that I should marry a +soldier. Alfred laughed at that, till—till he became one."</p> + +<p>"You bain't married to a soldier yet."</p> + +<p>"No. That's true."</p> + +<p>Fancy sighed. Mrs. Yellam went on with some knitting. Suddenly, she +said sharply:</p> + +<p>"What did they cards say?"</p> + +<p>Fancy smiled faintly.</p> + +<p>"They said that Alfred would come back—soon."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam knitted on. After a long pause, she pronounced a +verdict.</p> + +<p class="p5">"I bain't one to talk about what I don't understand. If so +be as Alfred comes back soon, and if he marries 'ee, I may own up that +cards do tell truth sometimes."</p> + +<h3><a name="Ch12"></a>CHAPTER XII</h3> + +<h4>THE EMPTY PEW</h4> + +<p class="p2">After her Alfred went to the front, Mrs. Yellam's interest +in the Tommies who had been "over the top" became more acute. She +listened to everything said, regardless of a timely caution from Lionel +Pomfret, who, before he rejoined his battalion, warned her that Mr. +Atkins, with all his glorious qualities, was not too scrupulous a +respecter of the truth. When the wounded men fell to talking amongst +themselves, or before sympathetic females, the hypercritical might have +noted a valiant determination on the part of each speaker to go "one +better" than his predecessor. And the essential fact that these boys, +most of them under twenty-five years of age, laughed at and chaffed each +other when relating horrors merely piled Pelion upon Ossa in the mind of +Mrs. Yellam. It seemed to her—and to how many more +mothers?—that none could escape death or mutilation. One man was +dumb from shell-shock. A "Black Maria" had buried him and ten others. He +alone survived, unable to tell in speech what he had undergone. Mrs. +Yellam paid this man particular attention, because her imagination was +lively enough to realise what loss of speech would mean to herself. She +told Jane Mucklow, with portentous shakings of the head, that the poor +lad had lost his tongue for evermore. What else could be expected? Jane, +now in happier mood, remarked <ins title="'sentenously' in the +original">sententiously</ins> that miracles still happened. Mrs. Yellam +smiled grimly, wondering whether Jane was thinking of what George had +done and accounted that achievement a miracle. And Jane could afford to +take a rosy view of life, inasmuch as Adam was still in England, and +George, with a view to stimulating recruiting, had been given a snug +billet at the dépôt of his regiment. All the credit due to George had, +by this time, been assumed by Uncle. He not only took part, as has been +said, in the heart-thrilling exploit, but assured everybody that the +valour of his son had been begotten in him by a sire known far and wide +to be without fear, the Bayard of the countryside! Jane accepted this +hypothesis with creditable derision. She would say in reply to strangers +avid for details: "Do 'ee talk to Garge's father. <i>He was there!</i> +Garge be his father's son from stem to starn. My boy'd ha' behaved +hisself very different. He'd ha' crawled down a rabbit-hole, he would, +so be as one were handy."</p> + +<p>Some strangers, pleased with this whimsical exposition, pressed money +into Jane's hand, which she accepted with a humble and grateful heart, +adding even more slily: "Thank 'ee very kindly. Money be scarce wi' us, +since my dear husband's son won the Victoria Cross, because the father +o' such a notable hero has to drink his brave boy's health so many times +a day."</p> + +<p>One memorable night, when most of the Tommies were asleep in the +Saloon, the dumb man burst into excited speech, and talked for about two +hours, to the delight of seventeen comrades. When Mrs. Yellam heard the +wonderful news next morning, she was immensely comforted. That afternoon +Fancy noticed a change in her, and was emboldened to strike iron when it +happened to be hot.</p> + +<p>"Miracles do happen," she affirmed, with an odd expression upon her +pale little face.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam passed no remark on this. In her opinion, formulated long +before the war, miracles had been wrought long ago in the misty, +prehistoric times of the apostles, and not since. Fancy continued +nervously:</p> + +<p>"A miracle happened to me."</p> + +<p>"What do you say, child? A miracle happened to—<i>you</i>?"</p> + +<p>Fancy nodded. As a little girl, during her school-days, she had told +her tale many times with the abominable conviction that it failed to +convince, although it might excite astonishment and sympathy. When she +grew older and more reserved she ceased to tell it, wincing from +incredulity. She hated to tell it to this austere old woman, whose +tongue could be so sharp, but impulse conquered apprehension.</p> + +<p>"I was four years old at the time. And I was playing in the street +just opposite to our house with some other children. A great dog came +rushing down on us, snapping right and left. Folks said afterwards he +was mad, but I don't know. Someway he was killed, so Father told me, +before that was made certain; killed and buried."</p> + +<p>"A mad dog! My!"</p> + +<p>"The other children ran away. I—I didn't."</p> + +<p>"Why ever not?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't. I stood still, all of a dreadful tremble. And he came +bang at me."</p> + +<p>"What a fearsome tale! You pore lil' maid!"</p> + +<p>Up to this point of the narrative, Fancy had generally received just +such sympathy, particularly when telling the story to mothers. She +paused; her cheeks flushed; but her large eyes rested tranquilly upon +the eyes of Susan Yellam.</p> + +<p>"Well, dear, go on!"</p> + +<p>"When the dog was quite close, I saw Mother."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam gasped.</p> + +<p>"You saw your mother, who was dead!"</p> + +<p>"I never think of Mother as dead. Yes, I saw Mother standing between +me and the dog. She never looked at me; she looked at the dog. And the +dog saw her."</p> + +<p>"I never heard such a tale in all my life."</p> + +<p>"The dog saw her. He stopped of a sudden, turned, and went +back—howling. And I howled, too. Mother turned as the dog turned, +and give me one beautiful look. Then she went."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam grasped the arms of her chair, still staring into Fancy's +artless face. But no outburst of incredulity escaped from her as Fancy +had feared it would. Her logical mind grappled with the facts as +presented. She said, after a long pause:</p> + +<p>"You thought you saw her."</p> + +<p>"No. I did see her—plain as plain."</p> + +<p>"But, Fancy dear, seeing as she died afore you was born, how did 'ee +know 'twas she?"</p> + +<p>"I'd seen Mother ever so often before."</p> + +<p>"When and how?"</p> + +<p>After some hesitation, Fancy narrated, with many details, her psychic +experiences not only with her mother but with the four Evangelists. The +girl's mordant anxiety that the astounding tale should be believed bit +deep into the elder woman's heart. To Fancy's delight no incredulity was +expressed. And Mrs. Yellam's face remained calm and kind. Solomon +listened, also, with singular alertness and an eager intelligence which, +to Fancy, indicated full belief. Indeed, Solomon seemed to be saying to +himself: "Yes, yes, we know about that. We see things every day that +would astonish all of you, if we were allowed to talk about them." And, +in the middle of the story, the dog, that never showed any affection for +others in the presence of his mistress, leapt suddenly into Fancy's lap +and remained there. Long afterwards, Mrs. Yellam admitted that this mark +of confidence upon Sol's part had impressed her. Inwardly she explained +things quite to her satisfaction. She beheld Fancy as a four-year-old, a +tiny mite, all eyes, physically weak, the victim of a perfervid +imagination. Her own little girl, Lizzie, physically robust, would +invent somewhat similar stories about tramps and sweeps quite as +apocryphal as these tales of communings with Matthew and Mark. She +remembered smacking Lizzie, and telling her that she was a little liar. +No doubt, Fancy's father, rather a weakling, has encouraged the mite. +Since Alfred's engagement, Mrs. Yellam had met Mr. Broomfield, and +summed him up trenchantly as half a man.</p> + +<p>However, she kept such thoughts to herself, saying quietly:</p> + +<p>"You be a strange girl, Fancy, but you speaks what you believes to be +sober truth, and I love 'ee."</p> + +<p>Fancy had to be satisfied with this.</p> + +<p>The first year of the war came to an end.</p> + +<p>So far, Nether-Applewhite had been fortunate. None of the young men +had been killed; none had been seriously wounded. And it was generally +held that "Fritz" couldn't stick another winter. Alfred became a +sergeant. Mrs. Yellam appeared in her pew, next Sunday, wearing a new +bonnet. But, coming out of church, she met William Saint, and cut him +dead. She now thought of him, habitually, as a "Prooshian," out for +world-dominion. When her Alfred returned from the wars, he would smash +William Saint. The triumph of such a "sneak" must be short-lived. Like +the Kayser, he had sold himself, body and soul, to Satan. Satan would +claim his own in God A'mighty's good time. Renewed belief in a Personal +Deity had crept back into a heart less indurated. But He remained there, +so to speak, on sufferance. At any moment, He might be driven out, as +before. Omnipotence, so Mrs. Yellam argued during many vigils, could not +be reasonably regarded as such if Satan triumphed unduly. It is to be +feared that a daily motor-'bus service to Salisbury and back under the +auspices of William Saint would have been regarded as a Satanic triumph. +But such a service, as yet, had not been inaugurated.</p> + +<p>Alfred wrote home once a week, alternately to Fancy and his mother. +The life agreed with him. Obviously he accepted rough and smooth +philosophically, regarding himself as a part of a vast machine that +would "rampage" on with or without him. Although he was careful to keep +from his mother and Fancy the horrors which they heard from the wounded +soldiers, now and again some careless phrase would reveal, +illuminatingly, everything that the good fellow wished to suppress.</p> + +<p>"You enjoy your food as never was," he wrote, "when you know that any +square meal may be the last. A chum of mine got it yesterday. And he was +smoking a Woodbine I gave him. The man next him, as told me all about +it, finished the Woodbine. I couldn't help laughing."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes," said Mrs. Yellam, deliberately, "I thinks they be all +mad." She turned almost fiercely upon Fancy. "Why did he laugh, my boy +as hated to kill a fly?"</p> + +<p>Fancy hazarded a conjecture.</p> + +<p>"Men are not so very, very different from us women. I often laugh to +save myself crying."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam admitted that there might be something in this.</p> + +<p>The Squire was busy with his bailiff, fattening bullocks, and, +generally speaking, trying to increase his flocks and herds. In this +task, he found an enthusiastic partner in Fishpingle, who possessed two +obsessing interests: love of the land and love of the Pomfrets. Nobody, +except the Squire and Lady Pomfret knew that this quiet, handsome old +man, so distinguished in appearance, and so choice in his use of words, +might have been lord of the manor, had he marched into life along the +broad highway which leads from the altar. Fate ordained otherwise. +Fishpingle had been constrained to stroll placidly along a by-path. He +hoped that he would so walk till the end.</p> + +<p>His point of view was characteristic. Of the more complex designs of +Providence, which such men as Hamlin were seeking to elucidate, +Fishpingle took no cognisance. He admitted gravely that they lay beyond +his vision. But he was quite certain that the land, the backbone of +England, must and would receive the attention which, before the war, had +been so unwisely withheld. He had always wanted to see his country +independent of necessary supplies—wheat, cattle, sheep and +hogs—imported from other countries. Upon that peg he had hung his +philosophy. And now, towards the close of his days, he believed that +what he had prayed for might come to pass. To that end he was prepared +to consecrate such energies as were left to him. Incidentally, his +enthusiasm served to wean Sir Geoffrey's mind from acrimonious criticism +of politicians. To provide in the present means that might fill the +inexorable demand of the future absorbed the thoughts of Squire and +Bailiff.</p> + +<p>Towards the middle of September, two Nether-Applewhite men were +killed in action. A week later, Lionel Pomfret was reported "severely +wounded." Sir Geoffrey crossed over to France. Lady Pomfret remained at +the Court in command of the hospital. She moved amongst the men with the +same gracious smile upon her lips; courage and faith—those great +twin brethren—sustained her; but the news was very bad, so serious +that Mrs. Yellam hardened once more her heart. Lionel had been shot +through the back, and lay, half-paralysed and in constant pain, in a +receiving hospital. Upon the Sunday after these details reached +Nether-Applewhite, Susan Yellam sat huddled up in her pew, and almost +mumbled the responses. Alone with Fancy, her sorrow broke into +words:</p> + +<p>"I be thinking o' keeping away from church next Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Mother—!"</p> + +<p>The dear word escaped from Fancy's lips unconsciously. She had never +used it before, except in her thoughts.</p> + +<p>"What be you callin' me?"</p> + +<p>Fancy knelt beside her, stroking her rough hand.</p> + +<p>"I called you 'Mother.' Do you mind?"</p> + +<p>"No, no; but I bain't worthy to be your mother. If Master Lionel be +taken, Alferd'll go, too. I can't bring myself to look at my lady. I +can't look Pa'son square i' the face, neither. I reads the Bible, Fancy, +and the holy words do seem to mock me. I ain't been near those two pore +souls as ha' lost their boys. For why? I ain't got no comfort for +'em."</p> + +<p>Fancy said desperately:</p> + +<p>"If you keep away from church, others will pass remarks."</p> + +<p>"As if I keered about that!"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you care if I stayed away, just because you did?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam considered this. Her face relaxed.</p> + +<p>"Maybe. Anyways, I'll go next Sunday; But, child, it be sinful to sit +in God's House wi' such a soul as mine."</p> + +<p>Fancy said in a low voice:</p> + +<p>"Your <i>soul</i> is right. You mind what Mr. Hamlin said about that? +George Mucklow won his Cross because our souls are always right."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam shook her head. Then an idea came to her. A faint smile +flickered about her lips.</p> + +<p>"Souls may take a notion to leave us for a spell. My soul seems to +have flown out o' winder, as it did when Lizzie died."</p> + +<p>"But it came back."</p> + +<p>"Yes; that be true; it came back. Forgi' me, child, for shovin' my +wickedness on your lil' shoulders."</p> + +<p>"Dear Mother, you must talk to somebody."</p> + +<p>"When I be alone, evenings, I talks to Solly."</p> + +<p>"Well, I never!"</p> + +<p>"And he understands me, yas, he do. He be very human, and a gert +sinner."</p> + +<p>Fancy laughed; and the pretty trickle of sound may have melted a +little ice. Susan Yellam laughed with her.</p> + +<p>"Solly—a sinner?"</p> + +<p>"Ay. He be a black murderer. He killed a cat day afore yesterday, and +come back to me, all over scratches, and wi' a look as if—as if +he'd been churched."</p> + +<p>"What a naughty hypocrite! I wish he hadn't killed the poor cat."</p> + +<p>"'Twas a vagabond cat, no better than she should be. I scolded Solly, +and told 'un to kill William Saint's tabby, if so be as he couldn't help +breaking the Sixth Commandment. I be no better than Solly."</p> + +<p>Fancy looked round.</p> + +<p>"Where is the naughty dog?"</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! He be courtin' some four-legged hussy. I knows 'un. Last +night he come in after bed-time, so pleased as Punch. There be Original +Sin in animals, as ther be in us. And feeling as I does, 'tis easy to +forgive Solly his trespasses. Now you knows nearly everything."</p> + +<p>As the days succeeded each other, slightly better news came from +France about Lionel Pomfret. At the end of the month the Squire brought +him home. He lay upon his back; pain had become intermittent instead of +constant. A great specialist said that he might, in time, recover the +use of his lower limbs. Not a complaint leaked from his lips. Susan +Yellam accepted this partial recovery from what had been deemed a lethal +wound as a sign vouchsafed to her. Jealousy, however, was kindled by the +professional nurse, who kept from her patient an old friend lavish with +bull's-eyes in happier days and doubly anxious on that account to +minister faithfully to him in the unhappy present.</p> + +<p>London was visited by Zeppelins. Nether-Applewhite would have +accepted this fresh proof of Hun "frightfulness" with more Christian +resignation, if one of the villagers had not happened to be present +during the October raid which caused such destruction in the Strand. +Uncle heard the tale at first hand, and repeated it everywhere. Martin +Mowland, the bricklayer, had travelled to London to see his son, who was +lying, desperately wounded, in the Charing Cross Hospital. According to +Martin the Zeppelin had hovered just above his head, about tree-high. +Then bombs had fallen with terrifying explosions. Uncle supplied +supplementary detail to his own audience at the <i>Sir John +Barleycorn</i>.</p> + +<p>"I says to Martin: 'What did 'ee do, old friend?' And he says to me: +'Uncle,' he says, 'I thought my hour was come, but I legs it away so +fast as I can to my lodgings....'"</p> + +<p>At this point Uncle, being an accomplished <i>raconteur</i>, would +pause. Then he would add impressively:</p> + +<p>"Neighbours, I don't blame 'un, although speaking for myself, I knows +that I should ha' stood still, onless, maybe, I'd seen some nice lil' +<ins title="not hyphenated in the original">ale-house</ins> handy. Well, +Martin, he legs it homealong so fast as if a hornet's nest were tied to +his starn-sheets, and presently he pulls up like to catch his breath. +And then he takes a squint upwards. Dang me, 'tis hard to believe some +true stories. But Martin Mowland do take his oath to this. He'd run the +most of a mile, giving tongue, too, I'll warrant. And when he looks up, +as I be a Christian man, that there Zep had follered he, and was slam +bang over his head."</p> + +<p>"Lard preserve us! Whatever did 'un do?"</p> + +<p>Uncle solemnly put the finishing touch to the narrative.</p> + +<p>"What did Martin do? He stands stone-still, and puts up his old +umbrella."</p> + +<p>Many persons in the village believe to this day that Martin Mowland +saved his life by putting up his ancient umbrella. Unquestionably +Providence had stretched forth a Hand to preserve a worthy man who, as +bricklayer, could ill be spared.</p> + +<p>During November, it will be remembered, Conscription was admitted to +be inevitable, and shirkers were adjured to join up before they were +"fetched." Many did so. Near Salisbury was established a vast camp of +Canadians, jolly fellows who swung, route-marching, through +Nether-Applewhite, winking gaily at the girls, and setting an inspiring +example to the young men still clinging to the soil.</p> + +<p>Susan Yellam, spectacles upon nose, read all articles in her paper +which dealt drastically with recalcitrants.</p> + +<p>Would they take William Saint?</p> + +<p>This question obsessed her. William was single and of military age. +But his usefulness in the village could not be gainsaid, even by Captain +Davenant. Of late, William had begun to cough, particularly in his +sanded bar-parlour, or when he happened to be talking to Squire or +Parson. His yellow gills confirmed the general opinion that he enjoyed +poor health. Susan Yellam maintained that Willum was malingering, and +deserved such obloquy as descended upon the empty head of Ezekiel +Busketts, the brother of the sometime "odd man" at Pomfret Court. +Ezekiel, presenting himself for examination before a medical board, had +provided himself with an ancient truss, once the property of a deceased +father. Unfortunately, he adjusted the truss so improperly that +detection and ridicule fell upon him. Uncle, being distantly of kin to +Ezekiel, covered his retreat with no harsher comment than this:</p> + +<p>"'Twas a very sad mishap."</p> + +<p>Susan, to return to William Saint, asked for a "sign," which, if +unfavourable, might be taken to indicate how deeply she had incurred +Divine displeasure. Some people, with greater advantages than Mrs. +Yellam, believe devoutly in signs. Lionel Pomfret's slow recovery had +been thankfully accepted by Susan as a sign that Satan was not having it +all his own way in Nether-Applewhite. If William Saint was removed from +the scene of his time-serving activities, Mrs. Yellam felt that a signal +victory over the powers of Evil would have been achieved. Such a +victory, in a true religious sense, would re-tighten the spiritual +fibres that, before the war, had bound her so closely to Omnipotence. +Nay, more; she dared to presume that if Willum went, her Alfred would +return, and pick up the scattered parcels of his good business as of +yore.</p> + +<p>She confided all this to Solomon, but not to Fancy.</p> + +<p>Uncle furthered her wishes without any "mumbudgetting" between +brother and sister. He disliked Saint, because his ale was watered. But +he liked to meet his cronies at the <i>Sir John Barleycorn</i>. Being a +brave, candid fellow, with a half-interest in the V. C., he told Saint +to his face what he thought of the ale.</p> + +<p>"I likes my ale, and I bain't ashamed on't. I see eye to eye wi' this +yere Horatio Bottomley about they pumpuritans, which I make bold to say +includes milkmen" (Saint sold milk) "so well as publicans. Me and +Bottomley do think just alike about knaves, hypocrites, and they as +grinds the face o' the pore. Much o' what I read in Johnny Bull might +ha' been written by me. I comes back to my tankard o' ale."</p> + +<p>"You allers do, Uncle."</p> + +<p>"What I likes about my first tankard be this. If 'tis good ale, such +as used to be set afore a man, I drinks it wi' a grateful heart, +a-smackin' my lips over the tankard to foller. If 'tis wishwash, I +nourishes most onChristian feelin's, and loses my thirst."</p> + +<p>William Saint would reply imperturbably:</p> + +<p>"For a patriotic man, you surprise me, Uncle. The ale is not what it +was because good barley is needed for better purposes."</p> + +<p>"I knows nothing about that."</p> + +<p>"A man with your great knowledge of everything ought to know."</p> + +<p>Uncle marked the irony, and resented it. In argument, as he well +knew, Saint was too much for him. He began to study the publican and his +hollow cough. He noted his manœuvres: the tiny bit of land +ploughed up, the buying of horses for remount agents, the sale of forage +to the same interested parties, who might be trusted to speak up, when +Conscription came, for an indispensable and indefatigable subject of the +King. Uncle passed some not disagreeable moments speculating concerning +the fouling of a well-lined nest.</p> + +<p>As the season of Peace and Goodwill approached, Lionel Pomfret was +just able to hobble the length of the terrace with the assistance of a +pair of crutches. His campaigning days were over. It was doubtful +whether he would be seen again in the hunting-field. But high spirits +remained inalienably his. He plunged with renewed ardour into schemes +for the more intensive culture of a thin soil, and displayed remarkable +aptitudes fortified by hard grinding at text-books. Hamlin spent many +hours with him. In Lionel he seemed to see a type, the son of an ancient +house, born with the silver spoon in his mouth, cradled in ease and +luxury, popped on a pony to ride through life as soon as he was +short-coated, sent to a great public-school, not to acquire learning, +but manners and skill at games, pitchforked later into a famous +regiment, with a handsome allowance, not to study the stern arts of war, +but to hold his own at polo and pig-sticking.</p> + +<p>Hamlin had deplored such upbringing. But the results confounded him, +forcing him once again to thrust carefully-considered judgments into the +melting-pot. The fact bristled in front of him that Lionel, and +thousands like him, had "made good" against all odds, vindicating an +education which consistently disdained efficiency except at games and +sport. What a gulf yawned between Prussian and English officers! The +Prussians had scrapped everything to attain efficiency. They had got it. +And what an atrocious use had been made of it! But their efficiency had +constrained young men like Lionel to an efficiency greater because the +inspiration of a fine cause lay behind it. That must be the keystone of +any arch—inspiration. Whether for good or evil, it fired men to +supreme endeavour.</p> + +<p>Out of Hamlin's four sons, three were now in the Army. Teddy, +however, was the only one in France. The eldest son, in Orders, was +still at Cambridge; the second, after passing through the O. T. C., had +sailed for Salonika; the third had enlisted as a Bombardier.</p> + +<p>Christmas, therefore, seemed likely to be happy, if not merry.</p> + +<p>Upon Christmas Eve, Mrs. Yellam heard, officially, that Alfred was +wounded.</p> + +<p class="p5">Upon Christmas Day, at Morning Service, her pew was +empty.</p> + +<h3><a name="Ch13"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h3> + +<h4>FANCY CONSULTS THE CARDS</h4> + +<p class="p2">On the following Sunday, Mrs. Yellam's pew was empty +again, conspicuously so, in the eyes of Hamlin. After luncheon he said +to Fancy:</p> + +<p>"Is Mrs. Yellam ill?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>Hamlin guessed what had happened.</p> + +<p>"No news is good news, Fancy."</p> + +<p>"That's what the men say, sir. It ain't a mort of comfort to us +women."</p> + +<p>She looked very white, with dark, heavy lines beneath her eyes. +Hamlin said a few encouraging words to which she listened attentively, +nodding her head. Hamlin felt reassured. Fancy was unhappy, but she +didn't despair. Before she left the study, she said slowly:</p> + +<p>"I believe as Alfred will come back."</p> + +<p>To the solicitude and sympathy of neighbours Mrs. Yellam exhibited a +frigid indifference.</p> + +<p>"I be just as well as never was," she remarked, when they enquired +after her own health. "Time enough for such as me to fall sick if my +Alferd don't come back."</p> + +<p>No further news had reached her. To Jane Mucklow, now the village +optimist, with George at home on leave for Christmas, Mrs. Yellam spoke +with some bitterness. Jane meant well; her sympathy was sincere, but how +could she, so high in Divine favour, understand? Nothing could shake +Susan's conviction that Alfred lay somewhere in France, mortally +wounded, whilst William Saint, the hypocrite and rascal, knelt among the +Communicants. To kneel with him, feeling as she did, would be, in her +opinion, an act of sacrilege. She reflected miserably that, since +confirmation, she had never missed a Christmas Celebration of the +Eucharist.</p> + +<p>On the Monday, Hamlin came to visit her as parish priest. He had +carefully considered what he should say. The faith that burned within +this strong man had been a plant of slow growth, watered by suffering, +pruned by constant self-analysis, and yet, in its essence, the faith of +a child, a faith independent of dogma, soaring high above +technicalities, resting securely upon a belief in ultimate good. He +could not disguise from himself that the Churches—all of +them—had crippled expectation. There had been no renascence, no +uplifting movement, no real enthusiasm. Political considerations and +expediencies kept the Vatican silent when a voice, thundering as from +Sinai, might have awakened millions to a realisation of the issues at +stake. The Church of England and the Nonconformists remained almost as +stagnant, content, for the most part, with the well-oiled grooves, +waiting for and watching Temporal Power, unable or unwilling to take the +lead, to speak definitely, to act decisively. With rare exceptions, the +gospel of Love had not been authoritatively used to vanquish the gospel +of Hate. Hamlin, need it be said? was no sentimentalist. He believed +with Woodrow Wilson that Prussian militarism must be wiped out. He did +not believe with Wilson that the German nation, as a whole, could be +exonerated from blame. Available evidence justified a different +conclusion. Lust for world-dominion, regardless of consequence, animated +and fortified the Central Powers because popular opinion lay behind +them, unanimous save for a negligible minority. Non-resistance to a +catastrophic policy of aggression, so potent, so meticulously organised +threatened not only Christianity but civilisation. To turn the cheek to +these smiting Huns was an unthinkable proposition to Hamlin. Nor could +he find in the New Testament any injunction of the Master which could be +twisted into a golden rule to be applied to States and nationalities. +Christ dealt with individuals, preaching and practising the power of +love as between man and man, not as between man and mankind. No text +that Hamlin could find would justify forbearance towards a nation +determined to inflict "Shrecklichkeit" upon the human race. On this +point his mind was perfectly clear.</p> + +<p>It was not yet, however, so clear upon issues still to be determined, +such as "After the War" problems. He could not measure the stride about +to be taken, provided militarism was crushed. He wondered constantly, +with ever-increasing apprehension, whether love would triumph in the +end, as he prayed that it might, creating a new world concerned with the +happiness of the many, a world purged of the old insensate vanities and +acrimonies.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam received him, as usual, a shade more formally, perhaps, +with a slight tightening of her lips. Hamlin began as the personal +friend of long standing, assuring the mother that her son, in all +probability, was not severely wounded, that good news might be expected +shortly, that very soon Alfred might be with her, out of the danger zone +for a season, and able to give attention to his business. But he +perceived that he was wasting words and time. She listened respectfully, +saying nothing. He guessed what ebullitions of feeling were suppressed. +He had been tormented by her anxieties, by her doubts. The loss of his +wife had been irreparable. And when his daughter left him alone in the +Vicarage, with nothing to engross him but his work, an odd distaste of +life had assailed him, a slackness which he fought tooth and nail. Till +then he had hardly known fatigue, as it is known to all women, that dull +apathy more mental than physical which questions means and ends, +exaggerating the difficulties of the former and minimising the latter, +an apathy continually whispering the sad words: <i>cui bono</i>? He knew +how hard Mrs. Yellam had worked for her husband, her children, and in +particular for Alfred. During the last ten years all ambition, all +energies had been concentrated upon him alone. She had made +unconsciously, a God of him.</p> + +<p>Hamlin rose up to deliver his message. Mrs. Yellam rose with him.</p> + +<p>"I missed you in church yesterday, and on Christmas Day."</p> + +<p>"One old 'ooman can't be missed, sir."</p> + +<p>His eyes not his voice softened.</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken, Mrs. Yellam. A woman of your character in this +parish is missed—more than you think, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"If Alferd comes back, you'll see me in my pew again."</p> + +<p>"You have made that rash bargain with your God?"</p> + +<p>She said defiantly:</p> + +<p>"How do I know as He is my God? The Kayser claims Him."</p> + +<p>Hamlin gazed keenly at her.</p> + +<p>"If—if I left the matter there, Mrs. Yellam, in the firm hope +and belief that God's way, inscrutable as they may appear to us when all +our energies are at a low ebb, will in His time be made manifest, may I +not ask you, as your parish priest, to consider the example to others, +the many, possibly, who are wavering in faith as you are?"</p> + +<p>"Fancy Broomfield bid me think of that."</p> + +<p>"Did she? Poor girl, she is distracted with anxiety, like you. But +her faith sustains her. Have you thought of what Fancy told you?"</p> + +<p>She answered him slowly, weighing her words:</p> + +<p>"My faith be gone, sir. It may come back wi' Alferd. And feeling so +bitter as I do about William Saint, who be stealing my boy's business, +who be letting others fight for him, and making a fortin for hisself, +can I kneel at God's Table?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"What be I to do? Go to church, a whited sepulchre, and pretend that +I be a Christian 'ooman? Do 'ee ask me to do that for sake of +others?"</p> + +<p>Hamlin remained silent. She continued, more calmly:</p> + +<p>"I can't bring myself to go church along, although I'd be pleased to +oblige you, sir."</p> + +<p>"It is no question of obliging me, Mrs. Yellam. Aren't you adding to +your heavy burden instead of sharing it with One Who laid it upon you +and Who alone can lighten it?"</p> + +<p>Grievously she shook her head. Hamlin took his leave. As he walked +away, he muttered to himself: "Civil War—devastating Civil War +raging in that poor old heart."</p> + +<p>He returned to the Vicarage with his mind dwelling upon the eternal +conflict, a conflict accentuated by the world-war, because its issues +seemed to enrich or impoverish everybody. By it, without a doubt, Susan +Yellam had been impoverished. He himself was conscious of enrichment. +But—he had not lost a son. He had five children.</p> + +<p>After tea Fancy cycled down, as usual, to the Yellam cottage. Solomon +received her boisterously. She made sure that good news awaited her. A +glance at Mrs. Yellam's set face put to flight her hopes. No news had +come. Mrs. Yellam greeted the girl perfunctorily, and then said +sharply:</p> + +<p>"Have you brought 'em?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Fancy.</p> + +<p>She took from a small hand-bag a much-used pack of cards. Mrs. Yellam +had cleared a space upon the kitchen-table.</p> + +<p>"Set 'em out," she commanded.</p> + +<p>Fancy sat down, and began to shuffle the pack. Hamlin would have +smiled sorrowfully, had he seen Mrs. Yellam's intent face as the girl's +slim fingers dealt out the cards. So it had come to this. Rejecting the +faith of sixty years, this poor old woman asked for hope and happiness +from a fortuitous arrangement of bits of painted pasteboard! Comedy upon +the underlying tragedy. Hamlin knew, of course, that astrologers, +mediums, crystal-gazers and the like were doing a roaring trade.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam, let it be noted, asked Fancy to bring the cards. Protest +had quivered upon Fancy's lips and stayed there.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"It is well, Mother. Alfred will come back. This makes the third +time; and, do you know, when I rode up Sol barked and wagged his +tail."</p> + +<p>"Did he? The dog be full o' fun now."</p> + +<p>Fancy went down on her knees; Sol barked at her, and then began to +race round the room, playing what Fancy called "mad dog." He ended by +leaping, panting, into Mrs. Yellam's lap.</p> + +<p>"I believe he knows something, Fancy."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he does. Would he carry on like that if—if Alfred was +real bad?"</p> + +<p>Thus each woman, in her artless way, consoled the other.</p> + +<p>Upon the Tuesday, details reached Mrs. Yellam. Alfred had been shot +in the arm; the bone was badly broken; his destination was Netley.</p> + +<p>Strings were pulled by Sir Geoffrey. Before the week was out Alfred +arrived at Pomfret Court. He looked much the same, not quite so +rubicund; he carried his left arm in a sling. Upon the following Sunday, +Mrs. Yellam appeared in her pew, and the fervour of her responses +excited some comment.</p> + +<p>She said to Fancy:</p> + +<p>"The cards told true. Now, the sooner you and Alferd becomes man and +wife the better."</p> + +<p>The doctor, who visited Pomfret Court daily, raised no objections. +Alfred's arm would keep him in Nether-Applewhite for many weeks, because +small splinters, from time to time, would have to be extracted, a +tedious process. Mrs. Yellam, when she heard this, said with twinkling +eyes:</p> + +<p>"Alfred, dear, why didn't you get wounded in both arms?"</p> + +<p>To which Alfred replied slily:</p> + +<p>"I kept my right arm, Mother, to slip round Fancy's waist."</p> + +<p>He told many stories to which Fancy and Mrs. Yellam listened +entranced, and he spoke of the enemy with respect and without rancour. +Upon one occasion, as his battalion moved into the trenches, a German +had shouted out in excellent English:</p> + +<p>"Be you the Wiltsheers?"</p> + +<p>A reply in the affirmative provoked a request for "pozzy" (jam). But +a tall sergeant, who stood up to hurl a can of preserve into the German +trench, was shot dead. This aroused tremendous wrath, as quickly allayed +when the same voice shouted again, asking if the sergeant who threw the +jam had been hurt. He was soon satisfied on that point, and, +immediately, a hubbub arose in the enemy trench, and a shot was heard. +Soon afterwards the Wiltshires learnt from the lips of the first speaker +that the man who treacherously slew the sergeant had been "done in."</p> + +<p>"They ain't all bad," said Alfred.</p> + +<p>To Mrs. Yellam's amazement, her son merely laughed when she told him +of Willum Saint's activities.</p> + +<p>"'Tis life, Mother. Down river, if a trout's caught behind an old +stump, another takes his pitch before night."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam, however, noted with satisfaction that although Alfred +was incapacitated from driving his motor-'bus, the business, since his +arrival in Nether-Applewhite, had leaped ahead again with a renewed +impetus. William Saint looked sour.</p> + +<p>Fancy bought her modest trousseau, and, incidentally, put on several +pounds in weight. The weather happened to be bitter, but she never felt +cold when walking out with Alfred. He spoke with enthusiasm of his +officers:</p> + +<p>"They're fine gentlemen, Fancy. And those in the ranks are finest of +all." Then he told her a story about two men in a London regiment, both +privates and chums. One was an East-ender; the father of the other owned +a house in Park Lane. The Cockney asked his chum if he had ever visited +Whitechapel. The other remembered that he had bought a bull-terrier from +a fancier in the Mile End Road. He remembered, also, that he had been +handsomely "done" over the deal. After a pause, the Cockney said with a +grin: "I sold you that dawg, Algy. What a mug you was then!"</p> + +<p>But Fancy remarked one amazing change in her lover. He never spoke of +the future. His enjoyment of the present was unmistakable. This +abstention from a topic which formerly had engrossed him became more and +more significant. The girl realised what Alfred had been through, +although, unlike most of the wounded men at the Court, he recited no +"horrors." Gradually, too, she perceived a change in his face: he had +"fined down"; his eyes were more alert, with a curiously steadfast +expression. She had never talked with him about religion. That was taken +for granted, and might be summed up as a cut-and-dried sense of certain +obligations such as church-going, honourable dealings with neighbours, +loyalty to the Sovereign, and sobriety of conduct. He knew nothing about +the empty pew.</p> + +<p>"Mother took my going awful hard. Did she talk to you about it?"</p> + +<p>Fancy told him what had taken place. Alfred held his tongue till she +had finished.</p> + +<p>"Thought she'd lost her soul, did she? Poor dear!"</p> + +<p>"William Saint doing so well and cutting into your business worried +her dreadful. I think it worries her still that you takes it so +easy."</p> + +<p>Alfred meditated upon this. When he answered her, he conveyed to her +mind an extraordinary sense of detachment, as if he, the strong man, so +enterprising as a carrier, so alert for "orders," had become suddenly an +onlooker at the game of life. Perhaps surroundings lent themselves to +this impression. They had climbed slowly to the high downs, and were +standing near a noted landmark, a small tower known as the Pepper Box. A +sharp frost had silvered the downs. The air was very still. Upon each +side of them stretched the uplands, melting into distant woods. No +animals were to be seen, not a sheep, not a bird. They seemed to stand +alone in a beautiful, deserted world.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," he said, "that 'tis like this. Before the war, I might +have felt different towards William Saint. And after the war, Fancy, if +I'm here, I shall try hard to get back my own again. But to-day I'm +thinking of peace. Fed-up with war I am. I want to live quiet with you +and Mother. I talked a lot of foolishness once about making big money. +You didn't cotton much to the notion. Maybe you feared it would take me +away from you?"</p> + +<p>"I did."</p> + +<p>"Well, maybe it would. Money drives some folks apart, and the want of +it brings 'em together. And, out there, plotting and planning seems +silly, because one may be—'next.'"</p> + +<p>She clutched his arm. He smiled at her, continuing slowly:</p> + +<p>"'Tain't so terrible a thought. Most of us fears pain more'n death. I +see more frightened folks in Nether-Applewhite than in the dug outs. +Queer thoughts have come to me, my maid, since we two parted."</p> + +<p>"Tell them to me, Alfie."</p> + +<p>"'Tisn't easy unless a man has the gift of words. Times, especially +at night, when an attack is expected I've lain still as a dormouse, +thinking that 'twas unreal, a dream like, and that soon I should wake up +and find myself somewhere else."</p> + +<p>"I often feel just that way."</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! Another queer notion is this: the best seem to go first, +Fancy; some of the young officers. Why? I figure it out that death is a +big prize to such. It does explain things a bit, don't it? They get +their reward—-quick! And then I set to figuring who is best. God +Almighty knows. One feller in my platoon, before I got my stripes, was a +right-down scallywag, a gaol-bird."</p> + +<p>"My!"</p> + +<p>"'Twas his notion about death being a prize for the lucky ones. And +he told me that he loved to think how bad he'd been, because he reckoned +himself safe, sure to be one of the last to be called. Next week, he was +blown to a pulp, except his face, and on that was the queerest smile I +ever saw. I helped to carry in what was left."</p> + +<p>She clung closer to him. He said in his ordinary genial tones:</p> + +<p>"I feel myself again in Blighty, dear. But I want no unpleasantness +with William Saint or any one else. I think, night and day, of you, soon +to be my dear wife."</p> + +<p>Love-making rolled on smoothly, as before the war.</p> + +<p>But what Alfred had said remained in Fancy's mind. It explained much +that had puzzled her ever since she was able to think: her father's +ill-health and ill-fortune, her mother's premature death, and the big +casualty-lists. If life was a dream—! If reality lay +beyond—! Then all the mysteries, the inequalities, the apparent +injustices, could be explained. Such an explanation is old as human +thought. It can be found in the Vedas, in the Bible, in the writings of +the Gnostics, in some of the pagan and modern philosophies. Fancy, +however, was neither concerned nor interested in speculations veiled in +words she could not understand. Alfred's queer notions were his and +hers, rushlights shining in the darkness. But terror touched her heart, +when she applied the obvious conclusion to herself. If the best were +taken, why then Alfred would be numbered amongst them.</p> + +<p>As her wedding-day approached, this apprehension grew fainter and +then disappeared for a time. She resolved to live in the present, not in +the shadows of past or future. Such resolution has been a fairy +godmother's gift to young women in Fancy's class of life. They turn +their eyes gratefully to the sun whenever it shines upon them.</p> + +<p>She had never been so happy before.</p> + +<p>It was arranged that part of the honeymoon should be spent in London. +After three days' sight-seeing, the pair would return to Mrs. Yellam's +cottage. Alfred bestowed upon Fancy a black fur stole and muff, a +wrist-watch, and a pair of silver-backed hair-brushes.</p> + +<p>She placed these oblations upon a chair near her bed, so that her +eyes could gloat upon them the last thing at night and the first thing +in the morning.</p> + +<p>Sergeant George Mucklow, V. C., promised to act as best man.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam was nearly as happy as Fancy. One fly settled in her +ointment. Conscription had become the law of the land. But the local +tribunal exempted William Saint. Uncle predicted that he would be called +up later. Jane, of course, contradicted this on general principles. With +Mrs. Yellam she believed that Satan would take good care of his own.</p> + +<p>The men at Pomfret Court gave a sing-song in Alfred's honour upon the +afternoon before he left them. Fancy sat beside the bridegroom-elect +amongst the quality. She liked one new song so much that she clapped her +hands and called out "Encore" before anybody else. The chorus of that +song is now known to every English-speaking soldier in the world.</p> + +<div class="poem"> + <span class="i2">There's a long, long trail a-winding</span> + <span class="i2">Into the land of my dreams;</span> + <span class="i2">Where the nightingales are singing,</span> + <span class="i2">And a white moon beams.</span> + <span class="i2">There's a long, long night of waiting</span> + <span class="i2">Until my dreams all come true;</span> + <span class="i2">Till the day when I'll be going down</span> + <span class="i2">That long, long trail with you.</span> +</div> + +<p class="p5">Her dreams had come true; the night of waiting was +past.</p> + +<h3><a name="Ch14"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h3> + +<h4>HYMENEAL</h4> + +<p class="p2">They were married from Mr. Broomfield's house in +Salisbury, and, before returning to Nether-Applewhite, Mrs. Yellam +reconsidered her opinion of Fancy's father. He was more than half a man. +Call him three-quarters at least. The other quarter was woman. Fancy +always affirmed that her sire had played mother to her. Mrs. Yellam, +after some intimate conversation with Mr. Broomfield, believed this to +be true. It seemed odd to think of a farrier—the brawny blacksmith +of the village chestnut-tree—helping to undress dolls and smacking +them when they misbehaved themselves. But Mr. Broomfield was not brawny. +He had Fancy's pale face and large, luminous eyes. He talked about +books, not storybooks, which Susan Yellam disdained as "rubbishy truck," +but solid, respectable treatises dealing with subjects far beyond +Susan's ken, such as the better housing of the poor, communal kitchens, +and a more equable wage for the working-man. About such talk hung a +flavour of Radicalism, a whiff of Socialism. Mrs. Yellam gasped for +breath when Mr. Broomfield "blasphemiously" labelled Christ as +Socialist. As a set-off, the man actually believed in fairies! Mrs. +Yellam had never met his like. But she admitted somewhat grudgingly his +charm as a companion. He attended Divine Worship, regularly, observed +the Sabbath, and spoke with enthusiasm of the cathedral. He could laugh +at his own mild jokes. Through him, Mrs. Yellam came to a subtler +understanding of her daughter-in-law. She accepted Fancy, so she +informed Mr. Broomfield, as a daughter, saying trenchantly: "No +'in-laws' for me." But she ceased to regard her as a child. Fancy's +artless ways, she decided, were on the surface. Beneath might be found, +by a diligent delver, a remarkable little woman, sensible, very +affectionate, but queer, like her father. Mr. Broomfield, apparently, +could enjoy a joke against himself. Susan, with a very limited sense of +humour, was incapable of such a feat. Speaking of motors, Mr. Broomfield +said whimsically:</p> + +<p>"What I've lost over 'em, Mrs. Yellam, seems to have been picked up +by Alfred. So—no complaints! Good money remains in the +family."</p> + +<p>To Susan this cheerful acceptance of bludgeonings indicated Christian +resignation rather than humour. She told the farrier forthwith all about +William Saint—the "Proosian." Mr. Broomfield listened +sympathetically. He perceived that Mrs. Yellam was disappointed because +Alfred had not "man-handled" a rascal and hypocrite, but he said with an +odd chuckle:</p> + +<p>"That makes things harder for this Saint, don't it?"</p> + +<p>"I begs your pardon, Mr. Broomfield—whatever does you +mean?"</p> + +<p>She thought for the moment that he was as light in head as in body. +Fancy's father went on chuckling:</p> + +<p>"Well, from what you tell me of Alfred, and seeing what a big, strong +man he is, I expect that William Saint is worrying. Like as not he +looked for a row and wanted to get it over. Now, I reckon, being the +coward you say he is, that he lies awake wondering when he'll catch it. +Once, when I was a boy, I had to wait for a good whipping from Saturday +till Monday. I've forgotten the whipping, Mrs. Yellam, but I remember +that miserable Sunday."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam was much impressed with this point of view, admitting +cautiously that it opened new vistas. Disturbed nights must be William +Saint's portion and punishment. Mr. Broomfield hammered home his +nail:</p> + +<p>"'Tis the same way with sinners—and this Saint seems a crafty +sinner—outwardly they look fat and prosperous, but inwardly I +reckon they give uneasy thought to a Day o' Judgment when they won't be +invited to stand amongst the sheep. I've neighbours in this town, Mrs. +Yellam, who have done the dirty on me. I never think of them. It dirties +my mind to do so. I like to think of my friends instead."</p> + +<p>"You be a true Christian man."</p> + +<p>Later, she told Uncle, who set, perhaps, an undue value on +chest-measurements, that Mr. Broomfield was very much of a gentleman, +and repeated what had been said about Saint. Uncle saw the funny side of +it, and smacked his thigh.</p> + +<p>"Saint Willum—! I shall call 'un that in his own bar. 'Tis a +rare jest. Saint Willum living amongst us sheep and knowing full well +that he be a goat. He do act the goat, too, when the sheep be grazin' +away from he. I could tell 'ee stories, Susan...."</p> + +<p>"Don't, Habakkuk! Mr. Broomfield be right. I means to think o' my +friends, and I refuses to dirty my mind wi' listenin' to stories o' +goats."</p> + +<p>Her responses in church became louder and more fervent. Having gained +the shore, after many buffetings, she put from her disagreeable memories +of billows past.</p> + +<p>Fancy and Alfred returned from London town full of high spirits and +overbrimming with talk. Fancy looked prettier than ever hanging upon the +right arm of her sergeant. His left arm still hung in a sling. The +doctor, who examined it periodically, said solemnly:</p> + +<p>"I'm very sorry, Sergeant, but I can't pass you as fit for duty."</p> + +<p>Alfred grinned:</p> + +<p>"You do pull my pore arm about, sir, but don't pull my leg, +please."</p> + +<p>The doctor laughed.</p> + +<p>"You may count on six weeks at home, perhaps more."</p> + +<p>The momentary pain of having small splinters of bone extracted was +negligible compared with six weeks of married bliss.</p> + +<p>Fancy's happiness defies analysis. Her naïve ecstasies astounded Mrs. +Yellam, to whom marriage had been rather a prosaic affair. She wondered +occasionally if this had been her fault. Why had dull contentment set in +so soon? As a young wife, she may have overbusied herself with domestic +duties. Fancy practised wiles and guiles with Alfred. She planned quaint +little surprises, played dexterously with an imagination which became as +lively as her own. One evening, when Fancy was upstairs, Alfred took +from his pocket some pieces of white paper, all that was left of three +packets of food. Abroad on business, Alfred had lunched under a hedge by +himself, far from home. Upon the paper were pencilings in Fancy's +handwriting. Mrs. Yellam wiped her spectacles and put them on. She read +three sentences:—"Meat sandwiches. Don't gobble 'em! Say grace and +think of Fancy." Upon the next piece of paper this was +scribbled:—"Bread and butter and cheese—and <i>kisses</i>." +And then the third:—"Rich cake stolen from Mother by a loving +thief. P. S. Another fat kiss has just started to grow. F. Y."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam returned the papers. Alfred folded them carefully, and +placed them in the inner pocket of his tunic.</p> + +<p>"They go back with me to France," he said quietly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam sighed.</p> + +<p>"You be a lucky man, Alferd."</p> + +<p>He nodded and went upstairs. Mrs. Yellam heard a tinkle of laughter. +She sat on, thinking; a frown wrinkled her broad forehead. She had never +played the game of love as Fancy played it. It occurred to her that she +had missed something all her life without knowing what it was. It might +be wise to consult Solomon, who was gazing at her interrogatively, with +his head on one side. She did so.</p> + +<p>"Be they a pair o' fools, Solly?"</p> + +<p>Solomon never budged. This might be taken to mean an answer in the +negative.</p> + +<p>"There be wisdom in folly, my dog, and folly in wisdom. You knows +that?"</p> + +<p>Solomon wagged his tail. Mrs. Yellam continued:</p> + +<p>"I be learning things, Solly, old as I be. I wish I'd ha' learned 'em +earlier. I might ha' been a happier 'ooman. I might ha' made my man +happier. Why do such knowledge come to us too late?"</p> + +<p>Solomon gazed at his mistress intently. From his expression Mrs. +Yellam divined that all her questions could be answered exhaustively by +any dog able to wag his tongue instead of his tail.</p> + +<p>The war went on.</p> + +<p>Conscription began to dislocate small trades and industries, but +Nether-Applewhite hardly felt the pinch of this. A few of the young +women disappeared, seeking higher wages in munition-works. One or two +returned to the village wearing coney-seal coats, and peacocking into +church with bold eyes challenging attention from wounded heroes. Mrs. +Yellam was much exasperated. All strikes she regarded as sinful. Satan, +and his dark legions, had been the first to rebel against Authority. +Hence—Hell! She envisaged as Hell industrial England, with its +blast-furnaces vomiting flames and smoke day and night, with its black +hordes of angry strikers disgracefully overpaid in comparison with the +pittance doled out to Sergeant Yellam. Coney-seal coats "dirtied" her +mind. Many of them, no doubt, were the obvious wages of sin. She rebuked +Alfred severely, when he proposed to buy one for Fancy. Alfred defended +himself and the wearers of the coats.</p> + +<p>"It's one of the signs of the times, Mother. I thought you were an +'Onward' one."</p> + +<p>"Lard help us! Not 'Onward and downward.'"</p> + +<p>"It's all the result of the war," affirmed Alfred. "Money's scarcer +amongst the quality, but poor folks are richer. Why shouldn't our girls +have a good time? They're working hard for the country."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam retorted viciously:</p> + +<p>"Being a man, wi' an eye for a pretty face, you sticks up for the +girls. But what about they miners, a-smoking silling cigars and +a-drinking champagne, when our boys are dying at one-and-tuppence a day? +And some o' they strikers, so they tells me, 'd as lief live under +Kayser Bill as under King Garge."</p> + +<p>"Is that their fault, Mother?"</p> + +<p>"What do you say? Gracious! Be you telling me that such wickedness be +<i>my</i> fault?"</p> + +<p>Alfred smiled pleasantly. He was not entitled to full credit for his +answer; he had been talking upon the subject with Lionel Pomfret.</p> + +<p>"It's the fault of the quality, Mother."</p> + +<p>"What a tale!"</p> + +<p>Alfred proceeded to explain. Although his brains worked slowly, and +despite the lack of an adequate vocabulary, he could be trusted to +repeat faithfully anything that had made a deep impression. He pointed +out to Mrs. Yellam, in language she could understand, that the weak in +mind and body were ever at the mercy of the strong. The quality, before +the war, had been strong. They had exercised their strength, speaking +generally, at the expense of the weak, fortifying their own impregnable +position. The masses, with rare exceptions, had submitted to imposed +conditions. They struggled on in the gloom, groping here and there for +illumination. Ill-educated, ill-fed, ill-clothed, they became gradually +conscious that things might be better and could hardly be worse. It made +precious little difference to them, poor Bezonians, under which king +they lived or died. The real advantages of living under King George were +patent to others, not to these unhappy prisoners in bondage to their +taskmasters. Alfred informed his mother, in conclusion, that within the +memory of living man children of tenderest years had been driven to work +in deep coal-mines, half-starved and half-naked, and kept at work, under +the lash, in rabbit-holes of passages, because such work by warping +their poor backs enabled them to get coal out of places where the +straight-backed could not go. Conditions had changed for the better +since those days, but not much, not nearly enough.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam was visibly impressed.</p> + +<p>Alfred went on in his own quiet way:</p> + +<p>"I've talked with such fellers in the trenches, Mother. You be sure +of this: they ain't going back to slavery."</p> + +<p>"Slavery, Alfred, in England!"</p> + +<p>"There are slaves in Ocknell, to-day, Mother. Some pore devils had to +be 'fetched.' They didn't know enough to get out of their hog-wallows. +'Tis rank slavery for a man to bring up wife and six little 'uns on +fifteen bob a week."</p> + +<p>"Anyways," replied Mrs. Yellam, tartly, "I don't hold wi' fur coats +on the backs o' hussies whose mothers can't afford decent underlinen. +And that minds me o' the advertisements in my paper. I fair blush to +look at 'un. Pictures o' garments that I hangs up to dry out o' sight in +my back yard."</p> + +<p>Alfred laughed loudly.</p> + +<p>"It always seemed to me as if you women hid the things you were +ashamed of. The pretty frillies flutter in the wind, where all can see +'em, and envy 'em. Nether-Applewhite knew when Rose Mucklow took to +nighties trimmed with real Val."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam sighed, admitting frankly that she couldn't keep in step +with the times. Alfred, conscious, possibly, that some of his mother's +shafts were aimed at him, said tentatively:</p> + +<p>"Are you miffed because I gave Fancy a fur muff and stole?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know as I bain't. A wise man, my son, puts money in bank, +not on back."</p> + +<p>"I see you putting your savings into stockings. Blame the war, +Mother, not me. I aimed to make Fancy happy, and to see her smile, +whilst I'm here to see it. We're both hay-making in these March +winds."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam surrendered.</p> + +<p>What Alfred said remained in her ample mind, to be considered +carefully at leisure. She abhorred extravagance. But, in March, she +might have bought a warm muff for herself, had she been told by her +doctor that she would die before June. Insensibly she adopted part of +Alfred's new philosophy. She set before bride and groom the best plain +food procurable; she piled logs on the open hearth; she put the two +coffin-stools into a cupboard.</p> + +<p>And she read her Bible diligently, believing devoutly that she was +basking in heavenly sunshine.</p> + +<p>The six weeks raced by, but Alfred's arm mended less rapidly. He was +given three weeks' more leave. His business had picked up wonderfully +ever since he was able to bestow upon it personal attention. Perhaps +William Saint withdrew tentacles, waiting for better opportunities later +on. Alfred didn't drive his 'bus, but he whipped up old customers, +chaffing them pleasantly, avoiding reproaches. All the women liked his +manners, which were easy without being too free. Fancy felt jealous at +times, and couldn't hide it: a tribute to love which Alfred accepted in +the right spirit.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't be unfaithful to you, if I tried," he whispered to her. +"I love you so dearly that my heart warms to all females. I could kiss +the ugliest just because you're my sweet wife."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Alfie, I couldn't bear that."</p> + +<p>He never left home without finding her on his return hovering about +the wicket-gate, waving her hand as he appeared round the bend of the +road, and hurrying to meet him with outstretched arms. Those spoke +eloquently of the suffering which approaching separation must impose. +Each refrained from mention of France.</p> + +<p>Alfred hoped that she would have something to console her, something +intimately his and hers, when he went back to the front. From the first, +husband and wife had discussed the possibility of children.</p> + +<p>"Are you afraid?" he asked, thinking of her mother.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h. I'm not surprised to hear that."</p> + +<p>"I want to whisper something, Alfie."</p> + +<p>He inclined his head. She kissed his ear, murmuring:</p> + +<p>"I <i>am</i> afraid—afraid it mayn't come. That's the only fear +I have."</p> + +<p>He was profoundly moved, sensible that his feelings were the more +tender because, before the war, he would have accepted paternity and all +it implied as an ordinary happening. Till he had suffered +himself—his wound had caused him intense pain—he had never +thought of what women endure every time a child is born into the +world.</p> + +<p>"What a brave dear you are!"</p> + +<p>She whispered again:</p> + +<p>"Would you like a He or a She?"</p> + +<p>Alfred insisted that first choice lay with her.</p> + +<p>"I want a boy."</p> + +<p>"I believe I should love a lil' maid best."</p> + +<p>"Better than you love me, maybe?"</p> + +<p>Having answered this in his own way, Alfred said abruptly:</p> + +<p>"If 'tis a maid, you must call her Lizzie. 'Twill please Mother. I +can see the child traipsin' after her."</p> + +<p>Fancy said doubtfully:</p> + +<p>"Lizzie ain't a pretty name, Alfie. I thought of Alfreda—Freda +for short."</p> + +<p>"Been thinking of that already, have you? Let it be Lizzie, Fancy. +Promise me, dear!"</p> + +<p>She promised, and then laughed gaily:</p> + +<p>"Ain't we counting our chicks before they're hatched?"</p> + +<p>"We might be worse employed."</p> + +<p>"And if one comes, Alfie, I know 'twill be a big baby boy."</p> + +<p>"You have it your own way. I allow it concerns you more'n me."</p> + +<p>April was nearly over before Alfred went back. He might have been +transferred to his dépôt, following the example of the hero. Sir +Geoffrey was quite willing to pull more strings, and hinted as much to +Sergeant Yellam. Alfred refused the kind offer, pledging the Squire to +secrecy. Something he couldn't define, some dominating, irresistible +impulse drew him to his own men. He admitted to the Squire that he was +sorely tempted.</p> + +<p>"I know my job, Sir Geoffrey. And I know how bad we are wanted."</p> + +<p>Upon the eve of departure Fancy told him that she hoped, she +believed, she was almost sure that the wish of both their hearts would +be granted. If he got Yuletide leave, he might be in time for a +christening.</p> + +<p>Mother and wife travelled to Southampton to speed the Sergeant on his +way. No tears were shed till his broad back was turned on them at the +dock-gates. They were spared that heart-twisting spectacle, the slow +warping from the wharf of a great transport, the strains of "The Girl he +left behind Him," the long line of faces packed close above the +bulwarks, the interminable wait till the ship became a blur upon the +waters.</p> + +<p>In silence they returned by train to Salisbury, sitting side by side, +gripping each other's hands. A drizzle of rain obscured the landscape. +Fancy told herself that sunshine would have been hard to bear. +Capricious Nature seemed to be mourning with her, dropping soft tears +upon a past four months so enchanting that they seemed, to-day, unreal, +a mirage, too beautiful to be seen again. But Spring laughs through her +showers. Before Nether-Applewhite was reached, the sun shone below the +clouds, setting in a blaze of crimson splendour. Solomon greeted the +women joyously; in the water meadows the Squire's black-and-white +Frisian-Holsteins were grazing quietly; now and again Fancy heard the +bleat of a calf. The plaintive cry seemed to turn her from a girl into a +woman. She realised that never again could she be the girl of yesterday. +Alfred would kiss a matron when he returned.</p> + +<p>After supper, when things were washed up, and Mrs. Yellam had taken +up her sewing, Fancy disappeared for a moment, returning with her pack +of cards. Mrs. Yellam made no comment at first, but she fidgeted in her +armchair. As Fancy shuffled the pack, she said quietly:</p> + +<p>"Don't, dear!"</p> + +<p>"I must, Mother. They told true before."</p> + +<p>"Very well."</p> + +<p>Resolutely she turned her eyes to her needle, not daring to look at +Fancy's face. She found herself wondering whether Fancy would be tempted +to cheat, to shuffle back some card of ill-omen. After an eternity of +suspense, she heard Fancy's clear voice:</p> + +<p>"It's quite all right. He's coming back."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam laid down her sewing, and rose majestically. In a small +cupboard, a special sanctuary to the right of the hearth, she kept some +home-made cordials: mead, currant wine, and ginger-brandy. Upon very +special occasions she would produce such strong waters, and drink one +small glass, not more. Her feelings might be gauged by the cordial +selected. Mead was well enough after village christenings and +churchings; the currant wine was stronger tipple, and very heartening +after a wedding. The ginger-brandy warmed bodies chilled by winter +funerals.</p> + +<p>She took down the currant wine, and fetched two glasses. Having +filled them to the brim, she gave one to Fancy and held up the +other.</p> + +<p>"Alferd."</p> + +<p>They clinked glasses and drank, very solemnly. Mrs. Yellam replaced +the bottle of wine and washed the glasses. Returning to her chair, she +perceived that Fancy was re-shuffling the cards.</p> + +<p>"Leave well alone, child."</p> + +<p>"I want to try something else."</p> + +<p>"What, you queer creature?"</p> + +<p>"I'm wondering whether IT will be a He or a She?"</p> + +<p>"What notions you has, to be sure!"</p> + +<p>Fancy laughed and dealt on. Mrs. Yellam sat down, looking into the +smouldering embers, seeing, possibly, the shadowy forms of the children +she had lost. The wooden cradle which had rocked them to sleep stood in +its place to the left of the fireplace—full of logs. It would +serve for Fancy's child, for her own grandchild. And upstairs, in an old +chest of drawers, lay some little things, tiny shifts and frocks with +lavender between them. Once, in a moment of dull despair, she had +resolved to burn them. A kindlier thought had urged her to give them, +away. She had put that thought from her frowningly. How deeply the gain +of others magnifies and distorts our own loss! Happy instinct must have +constrained her to keep these garments made by her own hands, although +at the time she never recked that they might be worn, so long +afterwards, by flesh of her flesh and bone of her bone.</p> + +<p>"Mother...."</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! You've settled the affair, have 'ee?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. 'Tis a boy—another Alfred. Ain't you glad?"</p> + +<p>"I be ready to welcome any babe, boy or girl, as belongs to +Alferd—and you."</p> + +<p class="p5">Solomon, dreaming blissfully of rats, woke up and wagged +his tail.</p> + +<h3><a name="Ch15"></a>CHAPTER XV</h3> + +<h4>LEANNESS OF SOUL</h4> + +<p class="p2">Life meandered on in the village. Mrs. Yellam spent her +mornings at Pomfret Court; Fancy took her place in the afternoon; they +were together during the light-lengthening evenings. By this happy +arrangement, two women, not of the same temperament, never saw too much +of each other. They met at supper, glad to exchange the mild gossip of +the day. And, always, after uneasy matutinal hours, Fancy felt a renewed +zest in life, an appetite for work amongst the "boys," and a delightful +consciousness that physical strength—heretofore lacking—was +slowly coming to fortify a frail body against the still far-off ordeal. +She learnt much from Mrs. Yellam, and said so with flattering +reiteration. Mrs. Yellam may have learnt more from her, but she did not +say so. That, perhaps, constituted the essential difference between +them. Fancy's thoughts and ideas bubbled out of her mind, effervescent, +like water from a chalybeate spring. Mrs. Yellam had suppressed her +intimate thoughts since childhood. What she said, indeed, masked her +real feelings, conveying to others an impression of shrewdness, +cocksureness and unruffled calm. It would be grossly unfair to speak of +this as a pose. Since girlhood, she had been shrewd, sure of herself, +and calm. Now, when she was past sixty, these comfortable and admirable +attributes deserted her. She judged herself quite as severely as she +judged her neighbours. She knew that, inwardly, she was questioning her +wisdom, her cherished convictions, and her unruffled deportment.</p> + +<p>"I be a whited sepulchre," she told Solomon.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, during these Spring days, when May was dancing in the +woods and across the fields, rest and refreshment fell upon Mrs. +Yellam's perplexed mind. By sheer force of will, for her own sake and +for Fancy's sake, she called "Pax" to introspection, and, like a +schoolboy, almost believed that the kindliest dew from heaven had fallen +upon her. During this month, too, Alfred happened to be out of the +danger zone, busy with new drafts who had not yet been under fire. And +everybody in Nether-Applewhite predicted that the war must end soon +because sheer exhaustion, military and economic, affected so +tremendously the belligerents. Upon this <i>cheval de bataille</i> Sir +Geoffrey Pomfret rode over all obstacles. Old Captain Davenant bestrode +just such another charger. Uncle, you may be sure, ran with them, +throwing his tongue, speaking to a breast-high scent.</p> + +<p>"We be nigh the end on't," he told his cronies. "They Proosians be +more fed up wi' mud and blood than us. I talks of what I knows. The +slaughter o' they Huns be so fearsome that Kayser Bill be a-thinkin' +night and day o' polligammy."</p> + +<p>"Polly—who? I never heard tell o' she, Uncle."</p> + +<p>To this interruption Uncle replied with something of his sister's +majesty.</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! This war'd be over now, if beastly ignerunce ran mute. +Polligammy be practised, as I told old Captain, by cannibals and such. +For why? Because they eats up the young men, and then there bain't +husbands enough to go round. Polligammy allows a man to marry so many +wives as he's a mind to."</p> + +<p>"Lard preserve our dear lives!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my sonnies, that's how life be preserved amongst savage tribes. +They Huns be cannibals and worse. When I told Squire as they fellers +used corps to make them tasty Bolony sausages, he couldn't believe me; +but 'tis a fact."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?" asked William Saint.</p> + +<p>"Never you mind how I knows, Saint Willum. I don't never help myself +to what isn't mine. I nourishes meself wi' sober truth, not lies. Where +be I? Ah, yes. Well, neighbours, they be come to that pretty pass, <ins +title="'pollygammy' in the original">polligammy</ins>. I allows that one +wife be enough for me."</p> + +<p>"More than enough, 'tis said, Uncle."</p> + +<p>"You be seldom right, my man, but times you hit the mark. Now, I +figures it out this way. They Huns be savages, but not fools. One wife +be more'n enough for any man, and if so be as Kayser Bill makes +polligammy the law in German land, why, I says they won't stick it. 'Tis +the beginning o' the end."</p> + +<p>An old gaffer was not sure about this. Women in Germany, so he'd been +told, worked with dogs in carts. A farmer with fifty wives might get a +lot of work out of them. The gaffer spoke with some authority, having +buried three wives in his time. All present knew that they had worked +hard for their husband. Uncle, however, after more strong talk and weak +ale, convinced his audience that peace would be declared before October. +Wiser folk held the same opinion.</p> + +<p>The villagers, at last, were beginning to feel the pinch of war. +Wages had risen, greatly to their satisfaction, but prices outstripped +them. The local store closed shutters, because the proprietor was called +up. The baker was baking bread somewhere in the North Sea. On Sundays +Mrs. Yellam and other housewives ate cold victuals for dinner, unless +they stayed away from Morning Service to make hot beef-and-kidney +puddings. Shopping had to be done in Salisbury. This meant increased +business for the carrier. But, unhappily, Alfred's <i>locum tenens</i> +lacked the executive ability to cope successfully with a glut of +orders.</p> + +<p>In August, William Saint began a daily service to the county town. +Peace fled, silently, from Mrs. Yellam's pillow.</p> + +<p>In September, worse followed. Fortune, cruel jade, lashed out at Mrs. +Yellam, striking her hard below the belt. Alfred's resplendent 'bus was +knocked into a deep ditch by a huge Government trolley, which rolled +serenely on—undamaged.</p> + +<p><i>Et tu, Brute——!</i></p> + +<p>Try to picture Mrs. Yellam's feelings. The 'bus was out of action. +That in itself might be deemed a serious mishap, to use a word often in +Nether-Applewhite mouths, a word applicable to murders, chicken-pox, +frozen water-pipes and other domestic disasters. External and internal +injuries to the car might be set right in six weeks or so. Skilled +mechanics in Salisbury were overworked. No definite promise could be +extracted from the firm that sold the 'bus to Alfred. But the driver, +the middle-aged man whom, with all his faults, Mrs. Yellam had come to +regard as a tower of sobriety and honesty, sustained concussion of the +brain. He soon recovered from this but, alas! his nerve was gone. +Obstinately, deaf to Fancy's coaxing and to Mrs. Yellam's trenchant +protestations, he tendered notice. How could he be replaced? By the time +that the 'bus was in order again—insurance covered all +damage—William Saint would have captured Alfred's faithful +customers; the faithless were his already.</p> + +<p>But what rankled so bitterly in Mrs. Yellam's heart, and would have +provoked the Cæsarean apostrophe had she indulged in quotations from the +Swan of Avon, was the tormenting reflection that the Army had dealt her +this parlous blow, the Army she loved, because Alfred was part of it. +Rampaging on, like a ruthless Juggernaut, the trolley had crashed into +the 'bus, wiping it out, killing it and burying it in a ditch.</p> + +<p>Sympathy flowed into the Yellam cottage from all points of the +compass, a generous flood upon which Fancy floated buoyantly. Poor Mrs. +Yellam sank beneath it, helplessly aware of its significance. Everybody, +of course, knew that Alfred's business was bound up in the 'bus, ditched +indefinitely, perhaps forever. The cynical thought obtruded itself, +grinning derisively; help was proffered so eagerly, because it could not +be accepted.</p> + +<p>Satan had triumphed again.</p> + +<p>Uncle was nearly as much upset as the 'bus. The gallant fellow +offered his services to his sister.</p> + +<p>"Look 'ee here, Susan. I be a man o' parts. 'Tis no trick for me to +larn motor-drivin'. To use a figure o' speech, I be a born shover, +clever, as you be, wi' my brain and my fingers. Such a thatcher as +Habakkuk Mucklow be fit for anything. I feel it in me, dear, to command +armies. Say the word, and I'll declare war wi' Saint Willum; I'll +downscramble 'un in two jiffs."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam thanked him, but the word was not said.</p> + +<p>She appeared to accept misfortune with grim resignation. Not even to +Fancy dared she unveil her heart. Alone with Solomon, she permitted a +few words to escape.</p> + +<p>"My faith, Solly, be on the wing again. Why should God Almighty raise +His hand against an old 'ooman? He might ha' seen fit to cripple me wi' +rheumatics. I could ha' borne that wi'out whimpering. But why do He +exalt Willum Saint? That's what tears me, my dog."</p> + +<p>Solomon spared no effort of mind or body in the attempt to assure his +mistress that these high matters were apprehended by all dumb animals. +Conscious of failure, he became very dejected.</p> + +<p>A letter from Alfred heartened her a little.</p> + +<p class="blockquote">"Dear Mother:" (he wrote) "I hope this finds you +in the pink, as it leaves me. Don't worry about the old 'bus! <i>I +don't, not a bit.</i> I have a notion that if you worry much 'twill be +bad for Fancy and for Somebody Else, you know who I mean. As for William +Saint, I say this—take a squint at his face! I wouldn't have his +liver for the best carrying business in the world. If you've set your +dear heart on my punching a rascal's head, I'll do it, so soon as I get +back, and make a job of it, too. Hard blows hurt them as get them; hard +thoughts hurt them as think them. I puzzled that out in the trenches, +where we be making very merry again. You'll worry too about the loss of +money. I say to that—<i>Napoo</i>! That's French. I parleyvoo with +the best of them, but when it comes to buying stuff, they do me in a +fair treat...." </p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam read and re-read the letter. Fancy was at the Court when +it came. Then she said to Solomon:</p> + +<p>"Wherever does that boy o' mine get his Christian principles? Not +from me, Solly, not from me. Wag tail, little man, and I'll tell 'ee for +why. Willum Saint, next Christmas, maybe, 'll take such a head to +Salisbury as never was."</p> + +<p>Sol barked.</p> + +<p>Alfred's sentence about merry-making in the trenches provoked much +thought. Mrs. Yellam had talked freely with scores of wounded Tommies. +They came, they conquered all reserves, they went. Some actually +complained that life in Nether-Applewhite seemed "dull" after the "fun" +in the dug-outs. At first, she suspected "leg-pulling," but she limped +to the slow conclusion that the high spirits of these gallant fellows +came <i>from</i> the trenches, and were not, as she had supposed at +first, a natural result of finding themselves snug and safe after +shell-fire. Possessing the qualities which distinguish a "tufting" +hound—a good nose for a scent, staying powers, and tenacity in +sticking to her quarry, Mrs. Yellam decided, ultimately, that millions +of young men and women were living, like gnats, for the passing hour, +buzzing gaily here and there, utterly regardless of past and future.</p> + +<p>Could she bring herself to so happy a condition of mind?</p> + +<p>"Take no thought for the morrow."</p> + +<p>That injunction couldn't be ignored. Nevertheless, she had ignored it +all her life. Hence, from a material point of view, her sound economic +condition. She was independent of the 'bus.</p> + +<p>Such thoughts were obsessing, also, the parson of the parish.</p> + +<p>Hamlin was quite as handicapped as Mrs. Yellam by principles adopted +long ago which he deemed, before the war, to be bomb-proof. He had +pinned his faith to the masses, dismissing the classes as effete and +lapped in luxury and indifference. All workers appealed to him +irresistibly; men and women of leisure rather exasperated him. He held +with Matthew Arnold that conduct was three-fourths of life, whereas +culture might or might not claim the odd quarter.</p> + +<p>The masses had disappointed him. The classes seemed to have justified +their claim to superiority not in mere education but in a capacity and +willingness to scrap self-interest which astounded him. He had expected, +too, a tremendous upward movement from German Socialists. Indeed, he had +regarded the Socialists of Europe as a band of brothers prepared to +stand shoulder to shoulder against autocracy.</p> + +<p>And they had not done so.</p> + +<p>He could find for the masses, not at the front, all the excuses which +fell so glibly from the lips of Democracy's champions. Strikers +complained of lack of good faith on the part of the Government, of local +injustices, of this and that, but the fact remained that self-interest +swayed them, as it had swayed the privileged classes before the war. The +tables seemed to be turned. Aristocracy, governed possibly by its fine +motto, "<i>Noblesse oblige</i>," hurled self-interest to the void; +Democracy picked it up and hugged it. Indisputable evidence exhibited +Labour as rejoicing in an increased wage, and spending pounds a week +upon luxuries, many actually praying that the war might continue, +because they believed that the end of it would mean a return to dull, +grinding pre-war conditions.</p> + +<p>And Hamlin admitted sorrowfully to himself that if the war did end +suddenly, leaving Labour triumphant, insatiate for more and more wealth, +and in a position to dictate terms to Capital, that the country would be +plunged into abysmal depths, depths in which new tyrants would impose a +new slavery without any of the restrictions which culture and tradition +had prescribed upon the former autocrats and plutocrats.</p> + +<p>He envisaged England at the mercy of the mob!</p> + +<p>With pleasure and relief he turned from the Industrials to the +Soldiers. What a fine spirit animated them! With Mrs. Yellam, he had +arrived, by a different road, at the same conclusion.</p> + +<p>Our men of all ranks were facing unspeakable horrors with a +laugh.</p> + +<p>How had it come to pass?</p> + +<p>According to Hamlin's teaching, a supreme Sacrifice, a Divine +Atonement, had regenerated the pagan world. Did sacrifice make not only +for regeneration but for joyousness? Lionel Pomfret, still on his +crutches, was joyous. The Squire, after the sale of many heirlooms, was +joyous. A finer humanity informed him, radiating from him.</p> + +<p>The Parson pondered these things in his heart. He might have found +another object-lesson in William Saint. He was unmistakably prospering, +making money hand over fist. But he was not joyous.</p> + +<p>Very reluctantly, Hamlin decided that the time for peace might be far +distant, if the designs of Omnipotence were rightly apprehended by him. +Armageddon would continue till pain had purged the whole world, till +materialism in its hydraheaded forms was slain by spirituality, by a +faith, simple as that preached by the Nazarene, which counted worldly +gain as naught if such gain involved the loss of the soul.</p> + +<p>Faithful to his promise to Alfred, Hamlin kept a watchful eye on Mrs. +Yellam. Her empty pew had affected him poignantly. He thought of empty +pews throughout Europe. They stood mute witnesses against teachers and +preachers, against creeds that crumbled when the cannon thundered. He +respected this old woman for braving gossip by staying at home. She had +moral courage, nearly as rare and even more precious than common-sense. +But when she came back to her pew, when he heard her loud responses, he +realised sadly that her son, not her God, had found this wandering sheep +and led it back to the fold.</p> + +<p>At any moment the pew might be empty again.</p> + +<p>Next Sunday, he took for his text the verse out of the +hundredth-and-sixth Psalm:</p> + +<p class="blockquote">"<i>And He gave them their desire; but withal He +sent leanness into their soul.</i>" </p> + +<p>No coincidence was involved in this choice of a text. Fancy +Broomfield, before she married, had asked her master to explain +"leanness of soul." He had said a few simple words. Afterwards, he +jotted down some notes and put them away.</p> + +<p>He re-read these notes, thinking of William Saint, whose activities +had not escaped his notice. But he wrote the sermon with a wider +application. And although he had to bear in mind the limited +intelligence of his congregation, what he set down constituted an +indictment of a material, world-wide prosperity.</p> + +<p>Hamlin began by reminding his parishioners of what he had said in his +sermon on patriotism: the soul in its essence was always right.</p> + +<p>"What there is of it," he added impressively. "Some souls are very +lean."</p> + +<p>Jane Mucklow maintained afterwards that the Parson looked hard at +Uncle. Uncle was equally positive that austere eyes dwelt on Jane. Mrs. +Yellam sat bolt upright in her pew with Fancy beside her. William Saint +assumed an air of detachment. He attended church once a week to curry +favour with his Squire and landlord. He held Hamlin in some disdain, +because so able a man had pushed himself no farther along preferment's +highway than Nether-Applewhite. A man who had played cricket for the +Gentlemen of England ought surely to be a dean at least, if he had any +gumption in him.</p> + +<p>Hamlin repeated the text.</p> + +<p>"I want you to notice," he said, in his quiet voice, "that the word +'soul' is used in the singular. God sent leanness into the soul of His +people. Nations, therefore, like individuals, possess souls.</p> + +<p>"Has leanness entered into our national soul?</p> + +<p>"We have prospered exceedingly. We are even richer than our expert +accountants deemed us to be. Some of you may have glanced casually at +the stupendous figures which set forth the wealth and resources of the +British Empire. We forget to consider how this vast wealth is piled up. +It is not my purpose to consider that with you, to-day. But such +consideration is the duty of those who are able to deal intelligently +with these astounding figures.</p> + +<p>"We have been, in short, given our desire.</p> + +<p>"In the text you will note that God gave His people their desire; and +then He sent leanness into their souls.</p> + +<p>"What was their desire? The Psalmist informs us in the context. God's +Chosen People had wandered from Him. They had corrupted themselves, as +we read in Exodus. I will cite one instance known to the youngest child +here: they had set up and worshipped the calf of Horeb, the golden calf, +which has stood forth ever since as the symbol of Mammon, the symbol of +material prosperity. They wanted this golden calf, and God gave it to +them. And then He sent leanness into their soul.</p> + +<p>"To many of us this text presents difficulties. Is it wrong for a +nation to desire worldly prosperity? Is it wrong for an individual, for +any one of us, to desire to better one's condition in life, to rise, as +it is called, in the world? Most certainly not. Such a desire is firmly +rooted in every healthy nation, in every healthy man and woman. It is +basic, the mainspring of human endeavour and human advancement, rooted +in nations and individuals by God.</p> + +<p>"The desire, then, in its simplest form, must be right. Its +accomplishment may be utterly wrong.</p> + +<p>"Desires change their character during accomplishment. Thrift, for +instance, may degenerate into parsimony; temperance, if uncontrolled, +leads to intemperance; the noblest ambitions may become insensate; +proper care of the body, which I have commended to you, may end in +vanity; love, alas! is often deformed into lust. All that is obvious. +Nobody here questions it.</p> + +<p>"Desires, then, face two ways. They may lead us to God or away from +Him; they may enrich or impoverish the soul.</p> + +<p>"But why, you may ask, does God, as in the text, deliberately gratify +soul-impoverishing desires in a nation, with the knowledge and therefore +with the intention of making the soul of that nation lean?</p> + +<p>"The answer is plain. Nations, like individuals, exercise the +privilege of free-will. The choice between good and evil is theirs, as +it is mine, and yours.</p> + +<p>"How can we tell whether the soul of a nation be lean?</p> + +<p>"There is an infallible test, the same test which each of us must +apply to ourselves. Never forget that what we think, we are. What we go +on thinking, we become. By a nation's thoughts, by your own thoughts, +the soul's stature may be measured. If the thoughts of a nation, if your +own thoughts, dwell habitually upon self-advancement and +self-indulgence, be sure that the soul is dwindling instead of +expanding. If our thoughts, collectively or individually, are hard, +jealous thoughts concerning other nations, the soul is growing lean. But +when we think of others with love animating our thoughts, and if that +love, in ever-widening circles, includes not only our friends but all, +all who claim from us pity and consideration, then it is very well with +the soul. It is expanding, and it is capable of an expansion so immense +that, like Time and Space, no finite mind can measure it. Hate +impoverishes souls and bodies. A man under the influence of violent +passion is physically the worse. Any doctor will tell you that. A nation +convulsed by hate is physically weaker. Violence is not strength. It may +appear to be so for a brief time. In a stand-up fight, between two men, +the man who loses his temper is likely to lose the victory. At this +moment, a gospel of hate is convulsing our enemies. We may, and must, +hate what they have done, the atrocious crimes perpetrated by and for +Authority, but let us beware of hating, as they hate, because such +rancour eats away the soul. Let us remember Who said: 'God forgive them, +for they know not what they do!'</p> + +<p>"Let us consider more attentively the desires of a nation and their +direction—upward or downward. I repeat emphatically that the +desires of a nation are the desires of the individual <ins +title="'immeasureably' in the original">immeasurably</ins> +multiplied.</p> + +<p>"And, first, I should like to suggest to you that desires concerned +with material ends, such as money, or any other worldly ambition, are +generally gratified, provided we work for them hard enough.</p> + +<p>"When are desires soul-impoverishing? How can we tell when a nation +or an individual, after rising steadily upward, reaches a point from +which they and he, as steadily, descend?</p> + +<p>"The answer may be found in the Book of Micah: 'He hath shewed thee, +O man, what is good, and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do +justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?'</p> + +<p>"In itself a nation can achieve much, so can an individual; but if +self-advancement, in any form, whether modest or far-reaching, relies +upon itself and takes to itself the credit and glory, then we are not +walking humbly with God, but speeding from Him along a road that may +lead to success, as the world interprets success, but which leads, also, +to disappointment, disillusionment, and often at the +last—despair.</p> + +<p>"The great conquerors of history have not been happy men.</p> + +<p>"Everything that is done vaingloriously turns to ashes. From that sad +thought we may take this much consolation. Ashes, as you farmers know, +are great fertilisers. I know of no greater proof of God's wisdom and +mercy than this: the ashes of our failures do, so I believe, cause good +to bloom out of evil.</p> + +<p>"If it be true that leanness has been sent into the soul of this +nation, if we have not walked humbly with God, what can be done? The +answer is to be found not only in the Bible, but in every chapter of the +world's history. We must make atonement by sacrifice."</p> + +<p>He paused, and many remembered that pause afterwards. The preacher +stood erect, but his eyes were not on the congregation. They looked out +dreamily into a world in anguish. Tears trickled down Fancy's cheeks. +With her quick sensibilities, she divined that the Parson's thoughts had +flown to France, where his Benjamin was fighting, not in hate, none who +knew the boy could believe that, but inspired by the faith that a +selfless Cause would triumph. Instantly, her own thoughts flew to +Alfred. If—if sacrifice were demanded of her—? She looked +up. Some intuition told her that Hamlin was ready for any sacrifice. His +face appeared calm. But she became aware of tension, as if a far-seeing +man were braced against impending calamity. She recalled stories current +in the village after the <i>Lusitania</i> was torpedoed: stories of men +who had confronted death without a tremor. Surely, at such a moment God +stood with them.</p> + +<p>Would He stand with her, if Alfred did not come back?</p> + +<p>She stole a glance at Mrs. Yellam.</p> + +<p>Her face remained impassive. But again intuition told Fancy that this +outward calmness masked bitter trouble and perplexity. Timidly she +slipped her hand into the hand of the old woman, pressing it gently. The +pressure was not returned, because, perhaps, it may not have been felt. +Mrs. Yellam, Fancy perceived, was staring at a mural tablet to the right +of the pulpit, new and shining brass upon which were inscribed the names +of two nephews of Captain Davenant. He had read the Lessons, as usual, +but in a less rasping voice, so she had thought. She heard Hamlin's +quiet tones:</p> + +<p>"Let us prepare ourselves for greater sacrifices."</p> + +<p>The rest of the sermon was devoted to particular rather than general +ends. The Parson appealed, as was his wont, to the children, and the +younger members of the congregation, the twigs waiting to be inclined. +And to these his appeal was persuasive and suggestive, never didactic or +minatory. He shone best when conducting a children's service, when he +walked amongst them using the simplest words.</p> + +<p>Perhaps he knew that the middle-aged and old could be touched to +finer issues indirectly. In every heart, however worn and tired, there +lingers a subtle fragrance of youth which thought of youth releases. The +sad fact that many of the elder people were mourning may have tempered +what speech he addressed to them, and many of them were aware of this, +shifting uneasily in their pews as they remembered similar words spoken +in the same place by the same man twenty years back.</p> + +<p>Once more, Mrs. Yellam walked home in silence. Fancy, engrossed by +her own thoughts, did not speak till they entered the cottage. Then she +said, hesitatingly:</p> + +<p>"'Tis strange. We talked of lean souls the first day Alfie brought me +to see you."</p> + +<p>"Ay—so we did."</p> + +<p>"And afterwards I asked Mr. Hamlin to tell me what 'lean souls' +meant."</p> + +<p>"Did 'ee? He never looked once at me this marning."</p> + +<p>"Why should he?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam answered heavily:</p> + +<p>"I dunno. But I'd a notion that he had me in mind. 'Twas a notable +sermon, but——"</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"He ain't been tried as I have."</p> + +<p>She went upstairs slowly to take off her bonnet and shawl.</p> + +<p>Upon the following Wednesday, the sermon assumed a fresh importance +and significance.</p> + +<p class="p5">Edward Hamlin was killed in action.</p> + +<h3><a name="Ch16"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h3> + +<h4>SAINT WILLUM</h4> + +<p class="p2">It was a blow over the heart to Nether-Applewhite. Master +Teddy, as everybody called him, had grown to man's estate amongst the +villagers, but he was remembered as a boy, full of pranks, a bit of a +scapegrace, with a smile that Uncle affirmed to be "so good as +sixpence." Uncle assumed a band of crêpe, and said to Susan Yellam:</p> + +<p>"Master Teddy be taken, and us useless old sticks be left. I taught +'un to set night lines. He'd a tang o' the poacher, he had, but allers +ready to give away what trout he catched out o' old Captain's water. +Bold as brass, too, wi' rich or poor. And a good fighter. He fit 'No +Account Harry' back o' village pound, and licked 'un, too, a boy +bigger'n older'n he. A pleasant word for all, and fair bustin' wi' fun +and kindness. I tell 'ee this, I be so sorrowful as if I'd lost a son, +but there's rejoicing where he be gone. I can see Saint Peter a-openin' +wide the gate to let 'un in."</p> + +<p>Greater orators have declaimed less sincere funeral orations.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam said little. Her troubled face made Fancy unhappy. But +when she spoke of Edward Hamlin, Mrs. Yellam cut her short:</p> + +<p>"He be gone. It don't bear speaking of. Why should such as he be +sacrificed to atone for our sins?"</p> + +<p>"If God gave His Only Son——!"</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! That be it. <i>If....</i>"</p> + +<p>"Mother!"</p> + +<p>"You be shocked, and no wonder. But unless I speaks what I feels to +'ee, I must hold my tongue. And more decent, too. I be mazed beyond +words. I be losing my grip o' this world and the next."</p> + +<p>Fancy met Hamlin two days afterwards as she was leaving Pomfret +Court. She quickened her step, but he stopped still. She said +simply:</p> + +<p>"I be so grieved about Mr. Edward. He was so full of life."</p> + +<p>Hamlin took her hand.</p> + +<p>"Thank you. The sympathy of all of you is much to me, more than you +think." He paused adding slowly: "He may be fuller of life, Fancy, where +he is now."</p> + +<p>She went her way, strangely comforted. Her time was approaching. Soon +she must remain at home, awaiting her ordeal. She confronted that with +the courage which is so often the attribute of physically frail women. +The month before the wonderful event would be happily occupied in making +the <i>layette</i> or such of it as Mrs. Yellam couldn't provide; and +Fancy had in mind the lining and trimming of a baby-basket fit for a +tiny prince. She intended to embroider a broad blue riband with this +legend: "To my little son." She made absolutely certain that the child +would be a son. Already she had envisaged his life from the cradle to +the grave. She wouldn't allow him to play too rough games, but he must +be a <i>Man</i>; she shrank from what he would have to go through before +he attained his sire's stature; she rehearsed a prayer suitable for +babbling lips; she arrayed him in knickerbockers and despatched him to +school, with many injunctions not to play truant, or pull the hair of +small girls, or be pert to his teacher. Of course, he would be just such +a son to her as Alfred was to his mother. She went so far in mental +vagabondage as to choose a wife for him, a very practical young woman +with a reassuring physique, quite unlike herself. Being his father's +son, every inch of him, it was certain that he would have "affairs" with +other young women before he chose the "One and Only." Fancy meant to +deal faithfully with such flirtations. One of them would nearly capture +the youth. He would be saved from a too audacious baggage by his mother! +She hoped that he would not be too good, but full of fun, like Mr. +Edward. He would be a carrier, because all wars would be over and done +with after this war.</p> + +<p>These were her day-dreams.</p> + +<p>At night, she was not so happy. At night she thought much of Mrs. +Yellam. That troubled face formed itself in the dark, mutely entreating +comfort and counsel which Fancy could not evoke out of her eagerness to +help a sorely-stricken creature.</p> + +<p>Why did Mrs. Yellam borrow trouble?</p> + +<p>Why did she believe that God had forsaken her? What a terrible notion +this of Satan supreme and triumphant in Nether-Applewhite! But she had +faith in God's mercy. He would lift this black cloud from a poor old +woman's heart.</p> + +<p>About two weeks after Edward Hamlin's death, unexpected balm, very +precious spikenard, was poured upon Mrs. Yellam's lacerated feelings. +William Saint had got his desire and leanness of soul withal. Alfred's +good business was his. When he drove past the Yellam cottage, Mrs. +Yellam turned her face from the window, if she happened to be there. She +told Uncle that she discerned a mocking smile, a contemptuous upper lip, +upon that hard, yellow face. Uncle nodded, saying nothing. But leaving +his sister's house, he laid a couple of fingers upon his biceps as he +contracted the muscles of it. He smiled genially. His biceps still +swelled hard and big as a cricket ball. And only the day before he had +been out running with the hounds. William Saint did not run. He walked +to his objectives, the sort of tortoise, Uncle reflected, who wins +prizes from the more nimble hare.</p> + +<p>He was so pleasant with Jane that she suspected a frontal attack upon +her money-box. Uncle, however, impetrated no loan. Later in the +afternoon, when she went to the fowl-house to collect eggs, she +surprised her lord and master, with his coat off, vigorously punching a +sack of bran in the shed that adjoined the chicken-run.</p> + +<p>"Whatever be you doing?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Uncle grinned.</p> + +<p>"I be working off some ale, Jane. So thin stuff it be that I wants to +get rid of it quick."</p> + +<p>"I thought you was gone mad."</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! Others may think that afore we be much older."</p> + +<p>To her further amazement, Uncle remained at home that evening instead +of going to the <i>Sir John Barleycorn</i>. She wondered if he were +sickening for an illness. Possibly, the Parson's sermon on lean souls +had affected him. Presently Uncle's earnest words lent colour to this +possibility. He observed didactically:</p> + +<p>"Hate be bad for the body. Parson got that notion from me. A man as +hates his feller-men, and lies awake nights plottin' and plannin' evil, +bain't never a fighter."</p> + +<p>"How about they Proosians?"</p> + +<p>Uncle riposted gaily:</p> + +<p>"I hain't one to misparage the enemy, but from what I hears, and you +knows I hears more than most, they Proosians fights wi' wallopin' big +guns, not wi' fisteses."</p> + +<p>"Who's talking o' fisteses?"</p> + +<p>"I be. I reckons as a man past sixty might well stand up to a +Proosian not more'n thirty."</p> + +<p>"You ain't never thinking of enlisting, Habakkuk?"</p> + +<p>"No, no. I couldn't leave 'ee, Jane."</p> + +<p>"You takes keer o' yourself for my sake. I knows that. What be you +thinking of?"</p> + +<p>"You'll know soon enough, old girl. I minds that time when I bruised +meself so bad slidin' off a slippery roof bang on to a stone wall. You +rubbed in some wonnerful stuff. Any of it left?"</p> + +<p>"Lard help us! I knew you'd miss your ale. You bain't never thinking +o' drinking Helliman's Embrocation?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. Have you the bottle handy?"</p> + +<p>Jane nodded; Uncle relapsed into silence, broken by rumblings and +chucklings. He went to bed early and slept soundly.</p> + +<p>Next afternoon, at four, he entered the sanded bar of Saint's tavern. +Saint drove his 'bus to Salisbury upon alternate days. He had a man to +take his place upon the other days when business kept him at home. +Behind the bar stood a fresh-coloured young woman, quick of tongue and +hand, floridly good-looking, with very alert eyes. Gossip affirmed that +she was secretly engaged to Saint. Jane Mucklow remarked that the hussy +ought to be, if she wasn't. Uncle greeted her pleasantly, nodded to +those present, called for a tankard of ale, and enquired tenderly after +Saint Willum. The young woman frowned. Then she said sharply:</p> + +<p>"I've a mind to tell you something."</p> + +<p>The company present pricked ears. Uncle smiled, drawing himself up, +inflating his chest, quite ready for a preliminary spar.</p> + +<p>"You tell it, my girl. 'Tis crool to think o' what wimmen-folk suffer +from allers holding their tongues."</p> + +<p>"Your tongue is too sharp. Mr. Saint is civil to you. Be civil to +him. That's all."</p> + +<p>She drew his ale, and handed it to him.</p> + +<p>Uncle looked at her with twinkling eyes. She was making things easy +for him, and he felt quite grateful to her. She had fired the first +shot. This might or might not be used as a <i>casus belli</i>. He said, +meaningly:</p> + +<p>"Be that advice or a warning like?"</p> + +<p>"Take it as both, Mr. Mucklow."</p> + +<p>"I will. Now, tell me this, my girl; be you speaking for yourself, or +for your master? If you be speaking for yourself, I be minded to tell +'ee that you be paid to serve customers, and not to improve their +manners. If you be speaking for Willum Saint, I thanks you very kindly +and passes no more remarks."</p> + +<p>This, it will be admitted, was a crafty speech on Uncle's part, and +pleased him mightily. The girl was sure to resent a rebuke before +others, and already the gaffers were grinning at her. If she shifted +responsibility to Saint Willum, a <i>casus belli</i> had been +established. The young woman lacked Uncle's <i>finesse</i>. She answered +sullenly:</p> + +<p>"I spoke up for Mr. Saint, because he's not here to speak for +himself."</p> + +<p>Uncle felt that this was not satisfactory enough, although +promising.</p> + +<p>"You means," he said incisively, "that you speaks words which your +master bain't man enough to speak for hisself, either to my face or +behind me back?"</p> + +<p>The derisive intonation placed upon "master" brought a flush to the +girl's cheek. Her eyes sparkled. And she believed Saint to be a man.</p> + +<p>"If you want it straight," she retorted, "the words I used have been +spoken by Mr. Saint and others."</p> + +<p>"Thank 'ee," said Uncle, lifting his tankard. "I drinks to your good +health, miss. Cheer oh! as our dear lads say."</p> + +<p>He buried his nose in the tankard. But he drank little in it, +carrying it to the stout oak table near the fire. The gaffers testified +afterwards, that Uncle's talk, before Saint came in, was even more +genial and easy than usual. And Saint's face, when he appeared, was in +marked contrast to Uncle's rubicund cheerful countenance. Obviously +Saint was out of temper. He had been cited to appear before the local +tribunal again, and exemption might not be granted twice. "Comb-out" +articles were appearing in the daily press. And Saint, who tapped +private sources of information, was well aware that Captain Davenant, +Chairman of the Board, had expressed a strong opinion that Saint, a +Class A fellow, b'George! ought to be kicked into the ranks. Saint had +just begun to realise, also, that he was hoist with his own petard. +Alfred Yellam, as carrier, set a precedent, shewing that carriers could +find less able-bodied men to transact necessary local business.</p> + +<p>Uncle looked hard at him.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong, Saint Willum?" he asked, in the drawling tone that +always provoked a cackle from the gaffers.</p> + +<p>Saint looked hard at Uncle. He had good reason for knowing that Uncle +saw eye to eye with the Captain. Before entering the bar, the landlord +of the <i>Sir John Barleycorn</i> had drunk some whisky from a bottle +which he kept locked up in his bedroom. In a word, he was ripe for a +quarrel.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong?" he repeated viciously. "You are. I'm fed up with your +insolence. You take yourself off to the <i>Pomfret Arms</i>. The +landlord there may want your money and your sauce. I've had enough of +both."</p> + +<p>The young woman smiled. If, as she expected, and not without good +reason, William Saint became her husband, he might turn out, with +discreet handling, a docile helpmeet. Within twenty-four hours, she had +urged him to "out" Habakkuk Mucklow at the first opportunity. Saint had +hesitated, observing angrily that he detested Uncle, and would gladly +attend his funeral. At the same time, the man brought custom to the +tavern. If he left it, some of his cronies might leave with him. +Whereupon the young woman remarked scornfully: "If you can stick it, +I've nothing more to say." And then she had eyed him slowly from heel to +head, as if taking stock of an animal not quite sound. Saint knew that +his manhood had been challenged by a woman who was becoming +indispensable to him.</p> + +<p>Uncle rose, tankard in hand. His smile was so disarming that Saint, +probably, believed him to be harmless. Accordingly he scowled the more +fiercely as Uncle slowly approached him. An expert of the prize ring, +comparing the two men physically, would have said, off-hand, that age +could never fight youth on equal terms. Saint was stoutly built, heavy +in the shoulder, with good underpinning. He may have lacked two inches +of Uncle's height.</p> + +<p>Uncle feigned nervousness, luring Saint on. Had the landlord been +perfectly sober, he might have suspected guile. Whisky had inflamed his +mind and paralysed his judgment.</p> + +<p>"Don't 'ee talk that way, Mr. Saint. I be old enough to be your +father. And not the man I was."</p> + +<p>Saint exploded.</p> + +<p>"If you don't walk out, I'll kick you out."</p> + +<p>Uncle almost cooed at him.</p> + +<p>"What brave words to an old gaffer past sixty! And before ladies, +too."</p> + +<p>The sly emphasis on "ladies" provoked a titter from a granfer warmed +by hot ale.</p> + +<p>Saint sprang to the attack. Now, Uncle, the sly old campaigner, had +foreseen this opening. He knew well enough the advantage of a first +blow. He knew, also, that Saint, out of condition as he was, might end a +fight at close quarters in thirty seconds. Within one minute, so Uncle +reckoned, Saint would have lost fifty per cent of energy and endurance. +With a gay laugh he dashed the ale he had so valiantly refrained from +drinking in Saint's face.</p> + +<p>"That'll cool 'ee," said Uncle, as he side-stepped as gracefully as a +dancing-master.</p> + +<p>Saint was half-blinded, but now well aware that Uncle meant business. +He must "finish" him at once, inflict a "knock-out" blow. He charged +again, head down, like an infuriated bull. Sober reflection might have +warned him that Uncle's arms were longer than his. Uncle raised the +tankard and brought it down hard upon a thick skull. Saint fell to the +floor, stunned. The young woman screamed out:</p> + +<p>"You've killed him!"</p> + +<p>Uncle laughed pleasantly:</p> + +<p>"Not me. I only tapped 'un. Don't 'ee be afeard, my dear. He'll live +to make 'ee miserable. I hopes as I ain't hurt this handsome tankard." +He examined it. "No. 'Tis ale-tight yet. I sees a dent though. 'Twill +serve, like rosemary, for remembrance. Ah-h-h! He be comin' to."</p> + +<p>Saint raised his head, but remained huddled up on the sanded floor, +rubbing his head and staring at the grinning faces about him. Uncle +addressed him with courtesy.</p> + +<p>"Willum Saint, I be a marciful man. There be many here as could +testify and swear by the Book as you assaulted and batteried me, but I +won't have the law on 'ee. More, never again will I call 'ee Saint +Willum. For why?—your immortial soul be too lean. I means to call +'ee, after this memorable day, Mr. Sinner. And now, Mr. Sinner, I takes +myself off to the <i>Pomfret Arms</i>, and my friends go wi' me."</p> + +<p>Three out of the five other men rose solemnly, and called for their +reckoning. The two that remained might have done so had they possessed +cash in their pockets.</p> + +<p>Uncle took off his hat to the young woman, and bowed politely:</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, miss. If he become too rampagious, do 'ee whisper +'tankard' to 'un."</p> + +<p>Uncle did not walk straight to the <i>Pomfret Arms</i>; he fetched a +compass, calling upon Mrs. Yellam. He told his tale without +embellishment. Susan threw back her head and laughed. Then she kissed +her brother.</p> + +<p>"Habakkuk," she said solemnly, "'twas a gert victory for you, <i>and +for me</i>, over Satan."</p> + +<p>Next day, by the luck of things, Saint met Uncle face to face in the +village street.</p> + +<p>"You downed me last night, because I wasn't sober."</p> + +<p>"Drunk <i>and</i> disorderly!" exclaimed Uncle, raising his voice so +that others might hear. "What would Squire say, if so be as you came +afore the Bench?"</p> + +<p>Saint was perfectly sober and smugly self-possessed.</p> + +<p>"You couldn't down me this morning."</p> + +<p>"I be willing to try," said Uncle, perceiving that he had room for +side-stepping. "You takes your coat off and I takes off mine, and we +goes at it, here and now, slam-bang."</p> + +<p>Saint declined this cordial invitation. He scowled at Uncle, and went +his way.</p> + +<p>Next Sunday Mrs. Yellam's responses were half a second ahead of the +congregation. On the Saturday Fancy had received a long letter from +Alfred. He was out of the danger zone again, and in a rest camp with his +men, who "groused" at "fatigues" imposed upon them unreasonably. Alfred +reported himself sound of left arm, and, as <ins title="'usuel' in the +original">usual</ins>, "in the pink." William Saint did not attend +Divine Service, thinking, possibly, that a large strip of plaster across +his head might distract the attention of the congregation. In this he +was needlessly thoughtful, inasmuch as everybody in the parish knew what +had happened in the sanded tap-room, and acclaimed Uncle as the true +sire of a valorous son. Uncle sat in his pew, as upright as Mrs. Yellam, +inviting inspection with an upward cock of one eyebrow, as much as to +say:</p> + +<p>"Look at me, neighbours. Not a mark on me!"</p> + +<p>You may be sure that the Squire had the epic pat from the lips of +Captain Davenant, to whom Uncle had recited it when shooting in the New +Forest. More, the Captain made it clear to the Autocrat how insidiously +Alfred Yellam had been undermined by "Mr. Sinner." Finally, it was +decided between them that William Saint would serve his country to +better advantage away from Nether-Applewhite, and the Squire, gravely +affected by Susan Yellam's troubles, swore that he would personally see +to it that Alfred's carrying business should be resurrected. On Monday +morning, Mrs. Yellam, upon arrival at the Court, was informed that Sir +Geoffrey wished to see her in his room. For a terrible moment, she +feared that the Squire might be about to break bad news of Alfred. A +glance at his jolly face reassured her.</p> + +<p>"Sit you down, Susan. Make yourself comfortable. What about a glass +of port?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam associated port with funerals. She declined any liquid +refreshment, very politely. The Squire stood upon the hearth-rug, +beneath the portrait of his father, and thrust his hands in his +breeches' pockets.</p> + +<p>"Now, Susan, where is Alfred's 'bus?"</p> + +<p>"In Salisbury, Sir Geoffrey."</p> + +<p>"Out of dry dock? Ready for the road—um?"</p> + +<p>"I believe so, Sir Geoffrey, but Willum Saint has the business; and I +don't know where to turn for a man."</p> + +<p>"That's going to be my affair. I should have made it my affair, if +you had come to me without my sending for you. Alfred has been treated +abominably. All the facts never reached my ears till yesterday, when I +heard about Uncle and the tankard."</p> + +<p>He laughed, and Susan laughed with him. The Squire waxed +confidential.</p> + +<p>"Just between us, let it go no further, William Saint will be called +up."</p> + +<p>"The Lard be praised! This be heartsome news, Sir Geoffrey. If you +gets me a man, trade'll come back."</p> + +<p>"You rest easy. I repeat, all this is my affair. I'm still Squire of +Nether-Applewhite. Have you seen my grandson lately?"</p> + +<p>"No, Sir Geoffrey."</p> + +<p>"You come along with me to the nursery, and we'll have a squint at +him. He's a whopper."</p> + +<p>And thus the sun shone bright once more in Mrs. Yellam's heaven. The +Squire proved even better than his word. What he said in private to +William Saint was never known. Sir Geoffrey found, for Mrs. Yellam, a +reliable driver, an ex-soldier discharged from the army but not +disabled, with a merry eye and a persuasive tongue. Saint's 'bus went to +the station, as before, not to Salisbury.</p> + +<p>You may think of this time as the St. Martin's Summer of Mrs. +Yellam's life. The dull November days drifted by, bringing with them +mist and rain and wind; the trees were stripped of their leaves; Nature +sang her requiem for the dying year; but Pentecostal joys filled Mrs. +Yellam's heart.</p> + +<p>And this Feast of Rejoicing affected Fancy and her child. The Yellam +cottage became a heat-centre. From it radiated warming beams. Susan, at +work in her kitchen, could hear Fancy's clear voice singing "Abide with +Me."</p> + +<div class="poem"> + <span class="i0">Hold Thou Thy Cross before my closing eyes;</span> + <span class="i0">Shine through the gloom, and point me to the + skies:</span> + <span class="i0">Heaven's morning breaks, and earth'svain shadows + flee;</span> + <span class="i0">In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me!</span> +</div> + +<p class="p5">If it were only so, reflected Mrs. Yellam, how rich and +happy life would be, with all its ups and downs. She remained +obstinately convinced that she wanted the Lord to abide with her. It was +He Who left her so mysteriously. And then, of course, Satan took the +vacant place. She examined herself rigorously. She dealt justly with her +neighbours; she loved mercy; she read her Bible each day. What more +could she do? Really and truly, she demanded so little of +Omnipotence—not wealth, not even health, for, at her age, she must +expect aches and pains; just peace, only that, and Alfred.</p> + +<h3><a name="Ch17"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h3> + +<h4>FOOL-WISDOM</h4> + +<p class="p2">Fancy's approaching confinement aroused no apprehensions +in the mind of Mrs. Yellam. She took it for granted that nothing +untoward would happen. Probably, the doctor in attendance would make +things appear more serious than they were. Deep down in her heart lay +the conviction that doctors, in their own interests, pursed up lips and +bent frowning brows over sick-beds, because when their patients pulled +through the greater credit attached itself to them. Her own confinements +had been reasonably easy, so she told Fancy.</p> + +<p>Both women wondered whether Alfred would get his Christmas leave and +his Christmas present at the same time. That double event, however, lay +upon the knees of the gods.</p> + +<p>Leave or no leave, Mrs. Yellam told herself that Alfred was safe till +the Spring. Why this conviction came to her she did not explain. Had you +asked her, she would have replied, probably, that the wounded boys at +the Court affirmed nothing to be doing in mid-winter. The sight of +William Saint in khaki nearly made her break into song. The banns of his +approaching marriage to the young person behind the bar were called in +Nether-Applewhite Church, none too soon, according to Jane Mucklow. +Uncle was heard to whisper, "And sarve 'un right!" by neighbours in +adjoining pews. He assured his cronies that Mr. Sinner's punishment was +to come. Susan rejoiced, also, in the notable fact that +Nether-Applewhite harboured no conscientious objectors. Ocknell, the +next parish, was not so fortunate.</p> + +<p>In fine, the first half of December glided by swiftly and pleasantly. +Alfred's business became firmly re-established, and, with Saint no +longer competing, more remunerative than ever. Mrs. Yellam said to +Fancy:</p> + +<p>"Your child, seemin'ly, may be rich."</p> + +<p>She refused to speak of the child as a son. But Fancy's conviction +about that remained impregnable.</p> + +<p>"I ought to know, Mother."</p> + +<p>"Maybe. But you don't. Nobody knows."</p> + +<p>"Alfred wants him to be a girl."</p> + +<p>"Do he? I wonders why."</p> + +<p>"He said a little maid would traipse so nicely after you. I promised +him to call her Lizzie. She'll be the next."</p> + +<p>"Lizzie! Ah-h-h! Alferd be a good son. Fancy his thinkin' o' that. +Lizzie<span style="white-space:nowrap;">——</span>!"</p> + +<p>She spoke the name almost under her breath. A moment later, she +removed her spectacles, and wiped them. The two women were sitting in +the kitchen by the hearth, after supper. A basket held the logs. The +cradle was upstairs in Mrs. Yellam's room. In that room, despite Fancy's +protests, Alfred's child would be born. In that room Susan Yellam's +first baby had wailed his regret at finding himself in a wicked world. +In that room her husband had died. Everything lay ready to hand; the +monthly nurse lived only a quarter of a mile away; the doctor had been +advised that he might be wanted at any minute.</p> + +<p>Fancy loved to sit over the fire, listening to the wind talking to +the chimney, telling that stay-at-home the tale of many wanderings. She +liked to make-believe that the winds were real persons, although she had +never heard of Æolus and his rebellious prisoners. She hated to pick +flowers because they must feel so unhappy out of their own garden. Of +course, they died of loneliness in mid-Victorian vases. She held +inviolate her faith in fairies, beneficent and malevolent. She assured +Mrs. Yellam that Solomon could see pixies dancing in their rings. How +else could you account for his stopping in the middle of a field and +barking?</p> + +<p>Of her mother and the four Evangelists she said nothing.</p> + +<p>Uncle and she became great friends.</p> + +<p>Three days out of the week (as has been mentioned), from October to +the end of January, Uncle served as "beater" to Captain Davenant, when +that veteran went shooting in the New Forest. Returning home, about +five, Uncle liked to wander into Mrs. Yellam's cottage and drink a cup +of tea instead of marching up to the <i>Pomfret Arms</i>, where his +supremacy as a talker and man of the world might be disputed by certain +bagmen in that inn, which prided itself upon being "more class" than the +<i>Sir John Barleycorn</i>. Fancy paid homage to Uncle, as the favourite +brother of Mrs. Yellam, ministering to his love of creature comforts, +making hot buttered toast and putting cream into his tea, which he never +got at home. Whenever Jane happened to be "miffed" her husband +tactically retreated to what he now termed "Fancy's rest camp." He found +her alone there, because Mrs. Yellam was now on duty at Pomfret Court +from two till seven. Fancy and Uncle would sit by the fire and talk.</p> + +<p>Between Uncle's house and the Yellam cottage stood a clump of firs, +near the river. Each year, during the annual migration, ospreys, +probably southward bound from Scotland, would roost for one night only +in these firs. Uncle had watched them many a time. They would circle +three times round the firs and then alight upon them. Always the young +birds, that year's nestlings, would come first. The parent birds +followed, perhaps two days later. The sense of direction, the triple +circling round the same trees, on the part of young birds, who preceded +their parents, filled Fancy with astonishment. Being urban, she +delighted in Uncle's Arcadian lore. She asked him to explain this +amazing performance.</p> + +<p>"Birds be wiser than we, my girl."</p> + +<p>Alfred had made the same remark about water-rats.</p> + +<p>"How do they find their way, Uncle?"</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! How does a young hound find his way back to kennels, when he +be taken to a distant meet by train, to new country never seen afore? +You answer me that."</p> + +<p>"I can't. Can you?"</p> + +<p>"I thinks I can. 'Tis fool-wisdom. Wimmenfolk has it, because they be +nearer to the animals than we men."</p> + +<p>Fancy wondered whether this was to be taken as a compliment. Uncle +continued:</p> + +<p>"Fool-wisdom comes from God A'mighty. We be told that He don't forget +one sparrer. I never liked sparrers too well, because they interferes +crool wi' the house-martins, pore lil' dears. Yas—God A'mighty +guides they young ospreys. I've a notion that He'd guide us if so be as +we weren't so set on guiding ourselves. That be the main trouble wi' my +dear sister."</p> + +<p>Fancy opened her eyes wide.</p> + +<p>"What are you saying, Uncle?"</p> + +<p>"I be fool-wise, my girl. I sees that you be mazed. Fool-wisdom be +what we read on in the Holy Book, the sart that God A'mighty gives to +babes and sucklings. My dear sister be full o' man's wisdom, just so +clever as a man can be. She takes credit to herself for every big onion +in her garden."</p> + +<p>Fancy said slily:</p> + +<p>"But, Uncle, you took credit for George getting the Victoria +Cross."</p> + +<p>"So I did. A sharp 'un you be, for sartain. 'Tis true. Where would +pore Garge be if I hadn't begotten 'un? And 'twas my brave will as sent +'un to Salisbury to enlist. But I gives the Lard the credit for pickin' +such a man as I be for Garge's father. And Garge's valorous deed was a +marvellous miracle upsides wi' they young ospreys findin' their way to +our clump o' firs."</p> + +<p>"You ought to be a preacher, Uncle."</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! 'Tis easy for me to preach, allers was; but practisin' be +the devil. Me and Pa'son be o' the same mind about that. But how I be +wanderin' from my text! We was talkin' of fool-wisdom and your dear +mother-in-law."</p> + +<p>"She's my mother now."</p> + +<p>"Ay. And I bain't fit to black her boots when it comes to practisin'. +I knows that. But she ain't got fool-wisdom, as I calls it."</p> + +<p>Fancy considered this attentively. Uncle puffed at his pipe, glancing +at Fancy's pensive face. He saw that he had puzzled her, and pulled +himself together for another effort.</p> + +<p>"'Tis like this. Susan be proud because she thinks as she walks wi' +God A'mighty. She takes credit for that, pore soul! Now, I be proud and +so humble as a bee when the Lard sees fit to walk wi' me. That be my +fool-wisdom, Fancy."</p> + +<p>"I see."</p> + +<p>And she did. Uncle's naïve remarks were illuminating. She could look +back, by the light of fool-wisdom, and sort out innumerable, +half-forgotten trifles, unconsidered at the time, which corroborated, +almost disconcertingly, this—what could she call it? +Yes—vaingloriousness on the part of Mrs. Yellam. Another word, in +every-day use amongst the "boys," bustled into her mind—"swank." +She smiled. It seemed a wicked word to apply to such a majestic woman, +and yet it was just right. Mrs. Yellam did "swank" whenever she talked +of herself or Alfred. She had won first prize for the best village +garden at the annual Flower Show, discontinued since the outbreak of +war, because, so she told Fancy, she tended her vegetables herself. +Alfred's robust health, his sobriety, his capacity for steady work, his +churchgoing, his pleasant manners with neighbours—all these were +feathers in Mrs. Yellam's cap, placed there by herself! She was set on +guiding herself and others, admittedly a leader. Uncle was right. His +dear sister did not walk humbly with the Lord. Hamlin's sermon had not +been forgotten by Fancy. His son's death had made it an imperishable +memory. And Mrs. Yellam, it will be recalled, had shrewdly suspected +that the Parson had aimed a shaft or two at her. Had he? Could it be +possible that this wonderful old woman's soul was lean? Naturally Fancy +shrank from such a conclusion.</p> + +<p>To lighten her mind, and with the intention of extracting more +fool-wisdom from Uncle, she said mischievously:</p> + +<p>"Uncle——?"</p> + +<p>"Yas, my dear——?"</p> + +<p>"What takes a man to the <ins title="not hyphenated in the +original">ale-house</ins>? Fool-wisdom?"</p> + +<p>Uncle threw back his handsome head and roared with laughter. But +fool-wisdom told him that this was the right way to tackle a backslider. +What a pity that Jane disdained indirect methods! He shook a long +forefinger in a smiling face.</p> + +<p>"You lil' besom——! Now, if Alferd ever takes a notion to +drink more ale than be strictly needful to slake a pleasant thirst, you +poke just such fun at 'un, and smile at 'un, as you be smilin' at an old +sinner this minute. My wife be a good, faithful 'ooman, but vartue wi' +her be turned sourish, like that there clarety wine, the only liquor as +never did lie easy on my good stomach. Maybe I married her latish in +life. And cooks, from stewin' over fire, do seem to overbake their +livers and lights. Anyways, hard looks drive a man to <ins title="not +hyphenated in the original">ale-house</ins>; smiles keep 'un at home. I +admits to you, Fancy, but never a word to Jane, mind 'ee, that ale be my +weakness. 'Twould be blasphemious to say that the Lard ever walked wi' +me <i>to</i> an ale-house, except on one very notable occasion, but 'tis +a fact that in His Marcy He have walked wi' me <i>from</i> the <i>Sir +John Barleycorn</i>. And now you has it."</p> + +<p>"Tell me about the notable exception."</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! You knows. The Lard walked wi' me when I downscrambled +Willum Saint. I gives He the credit. He put the notion into my head o' +flingin' Willum's ale into Willum's face, and bashin' 'un wi' his own +tankard. I tell 'ee that notion come to me bang from Kingdom Come. My +own notion was different. I calkilated on a stand-up fight. Willum might +ha' downed me, being so young and strong a man. And I tells 'ee more, a +lil' secret, seein' as you has the trick o' squeezin' secrets out o' +sinners: the Lard walks wi' me when I comes here to see you. And I be +drinkin' less ale in consekence."</p> + +<p>With that he kissed Fancy and took his leave.</p> + +<p>Solomon jumped into the warm, cushioned arm-chair. But, instead of +curling himself up, he walked three times round the chair, and then sat +up, with his head on one side glancing interrogatively at Fancy, as much +as to say:</p> + +<p>"If you want fool-wisdom, why not tap it at its source?"</p> + +<p>Fancy eyed him reflectively. All day, the dog had behaved strangely. +He never left Fancy for a moment. But, till now, he had seemed +disinclined for conversation. And he had hardly touched his dinner. +Again and again he had walked round the kitchen, whining a little. +Fancy, supposing that he wished to go outside, had opened the door, but +he remained with her, staring up at her, as if he had some message to +deliver. Finally, she jumped to the conclusion that the dog must be +feeling unwell, or, possibly, cats lay heavy on his conscience.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Solomon?"</p> + +<p>He whined.</p> + +<p>"Got a pain, Solly?"</p> + +<p>He regarded her sorrowfully. Till that moment Fancy had been happy +and light-hearted. Uncle had cheered her up. And his parting remark was +uplifting and unmistakable. God had seen fit to use her, Fancy Yellam, +as a humble instrument whereby Uncle's thirst for ale became less +importunate. A warm glow suffused her small body.</p> + +<p>And now, suddenly, she felt chilled, uneasy, unhappy, merely because +a dog gazed mournfully at her, as if he, the wicked little sinner, were +grieving for her. Did he know that pain was coming to her inexorably? As +the thought assailed her mind, so swiftly that she winced, Solomon's +tail flickered. Not in joyousness. She divined that. In some uncanny +fashion he was encouraging her to accept this thought of pain, to +confront it valiantly, not to shrink from it.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, Sol?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>His tail flickered again. He leaped into her lap, and laid his head +upon her bosom. She could feel his heart beating; her own heart beat +with it.</p> + +<p>Was this another amazing proof of fool-wisdom?</p> + +<p>Peace came back to her. Humbly, she committed herself to the keeping +of Omnipotence, thinking intently of her mother. Solomon never moved. +She was intimately sensible that this dumb creature comforted her. She +glanced into the shadows of the kitchen. Had her mother's face and +figure formed themselves out of those shadows, she would not have been +surprised or frightened. She expected to see her. The conviction stole +slowly upon her that the mother stood near her, invisible, but a +powerful protector. And from her would radiate hope and faith and love. +She would be with her in her travailings....</p> + +<p>Presently, another thought stole upon her. As Mrs. Yellam said, Fancy +had never seen her mother in the flesh. It seemed so cruel that she +should have been taken at a moment when tiny lips were wailing for what +she alone could give. From a child she had wanted her mother. To-night, +for the first time, it flashed into her mind that, perhaps, her mother +had wanted her—desperately. Just as she wanted her child. How +bitter a disappointment it must be to forego the tender ministrations, +the sweet services which only women know, and which, in their +fool-wisdom, they count dearer than anything the world can bestow.</p> + +<p>If—if anything went wrong, she would join her mother....</p> + +<p>Solomon lay motionless, but his heart went on throbbing.</p> + +<p>Why?</p> + +<p>A last thought, the greatest, seemed to float direct from her +mother's mind to hers. Alfred was facing death, daily, with a laugh, +facing, too, the possibility of grinding pain. As a soldier's wife, she +must try to be brave, like him....</p> + +<p>Solomon moved restlessly, and then sprang to the floor. He wagged his +tail briskly, as he took up a commanding position near the door. Mrs. +Yellam was approaching the cottage. If Fancy opened the door and looked +out, she would not see her because it was dark. But she would not hear +her, either. And if she called, Mrs. Yellam would not answer, being, as +yet, too far away.</p> + +<p>But Solomon knew.</p> + +<p>Within five minutes, Susan Yellam entered, bringing with her an +exhilarating atmosphere of keen, fresh air. Her cheeks were red; her +eyes sparkled.</p> + +<p>"Frost be coming, and maybe snow. I likes to see God A'mighty's world +white and clean come Christmastide."</p> + +<p>The old woman bustled about cheerfully, commanding Fancy to sit +still. She had brought with her a fat hen-pheasant, a gift from the +Squire to Alfred's wife.</p> + +<p>"Folks are very kind," said Fancy.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, 'tis easy to be kind when we be happy. Captain Pomfret +walked wi' one crutch to-day. And they be drinking champagne for dinner. +'Tis the work o' that Lunnon doctor, so they say, a very wonnerful chap +wi' electrics, bridlin' the lightnin', so to speak. And they perfarms +miracles wi' men's faces, manufacturin' noses and what-not just so easy +as pats o' butter. Such fellers must be proud o' theirselves."</p> + +<p>"Maybe Mr. Hamlin'll return thanks in church, next Sunday."</p> + +<p>"More'n likely. I never thought o' that."</p> + +<p>"I wonder," said Fancy, "how it all comes to them, inventions, such +as wireless and—and chloroform as takes away pain."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam chided her, very pleasantly:</p> + +<p>"Now, don't 'ee flustrate yourself wi' thoughts o' chloryform. I +allows that I can answer your question. Inventions comes to they as +works hard for 'un. 'Tis hard work, and nothing else."</p> + +<p>"Uncle would call it—fool-wisdom."</p> + +<p>"Fool-wisdom?"</p> + +<p>Fancy explained. Mrs. Yellam listened attentively, shaking her head +from time to time. Uncle's position, to-day, would be as financially +sound as her own, had he worked hard at his calling, and spent less time +on crack-brained speculations and less good money on ale. She said as +much, derisively. Fancy said:</p> + +<p>"How does Solly know when you turn the corner by the mill?"</p> + +<p>"Dog's instinct."</p> + +<p>"Maybe 'tis the same thing."</p> + +<p>"Fiddle!"</p> + +<p>Fancy refrained from pressing the point, but something told her that +Uncle was right, and his clever, practical sister wrong. One thing was +delightfully certain. Happiness had made Mrs. Yellam kind. And it filled +her with piety. She walked proudly with the Lord, carrying a high head. +She had forgiven William Saint his trespasses, and expressed a trenchant +conviction that Satan had removed his headquarters from +Nether-Applewhite to Ocknell. And she was equally sure that Alfred would +be home for Christmas, because her troubles had come in battalions at +midsummer.</p> + +<p>"Turn and turn about be only fair," she told Fancy.</p> + +<p>Fancy said hesitatingly:</p> + +<p>"The cards told true before, didn't they?"</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! I don't pin my faith to they, child. I be weather-wise, not +fool-wise. We has spells o' wet and spells o' dry. It be dry now, and +likely to remain so, I reckons."</p> + +<p>Fancy nodded, quite willing to believe that the Yellam barometer +would stay, for a long spell, at "Set Fair."</p> + +<p>After supper, when the kitchen was in perfect order, Mrs. Yellam sat +knitting beside Fancy. Solomon lay at the feet of his mistress. The logs +burned briskly, another evidence of coming frost. Sparks burst out of +them, dazzling scintillations, miniature fireworks. Mrs. Yellam was +impressed by this pyrotechnic display.</p> + +<p>"It minds me of when Master Lionel come of age. I hopes they logs'll +burn like that when Alferd is sittin' here, wi' a baby on his knee."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam appeared so satisfied with life in general that Fancy +hesitated to disturb the peace, but impulse was too strong for her.</p> + +<p>"Solly acted very queer all day."</p> + +<p>"Did he now?"</p> + +<p>"Hardly touched his nice dinner."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, times he takes a notion to scrummage in dustheaps, the +lil' scavenger! 'Tis the male in him, I reckons. And far-seein'. He do +take a squint into the future, seemin'ly."</p> + +<p>Fancy stared at Mrs. Yellam, slightly startled.</p> + +<p>"He buries bones and beastliness all over my garden. I caught 'un wi' +a cod's head, and cuffed his, I did."</p> + +<p>"I took the notion that he was worrying about—about me."</p> + +<p>"Did 'ee, now? Natural enough. You bide so ca'm as I be. Worry brings +peevish children into this world. You sing a hymn, if you think it'll +hearten you up. 'Onward, Christian Soldiers,' be my fav'rite."</p> + +<p>"I do love 'Abide with Me.'"</p> + +<p>"You sing what you've a mind to. You be near your time, and must +please yourself. Singin' helped me, but it druv my pore man to the +ale-house. So I quit hymns, for his sake."</p> + +<p>"Was Mr. Yellam with you when your first baby was born?"</p> + +<p>"My, no! What a queer lil' thing you be! He was carrier, wi' business +to attend to. Men bain't wanted at such times."</p> + +<p>"I should like to have Alfred."</p> + +<p>"No, you wouldn't. Take that from me. I've a mind to give 'ee a sip +o' currant wine."</p> + +<p>Fancy declined this, with many thanks. The talk became desultory, and +died down. Fancy dozed off quietly. Mrs. Yellam laid down her knitting +and gazed keenly at the pale face bent upon the thin bosom. +<i>Spindlin'!</i> Her own word came back to her. She saw that a faint +smile curved the girl's lips. Evidently she was dreaming happily. Of +what? Solomon rose, stretched himself, and stood beside his mistress. He +whined a little. Mrs. Yellam recalled what Fancy had said about his +"acting queer."</p> + +<p>"She bain't too strong," she muttered.</p> + +<p>Solomon whined again and lay down.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam's face hardened. The same thought that had assailed Fancy +attacked her, burying fangs in her heart.</p> + +<p>If things went wrong——?</p> + +<p>Resolutely, she put this thought from her. God's ways might be +mysterious, but surely, surely He would stand by this frail creature, +and temper the wind to her. Even to ask Him to do so seemed impertinent. +Prayer came to her lips and fluttered away. She closed them tightly. All +would go well, because of those four graves in the churchyard. She had +visited them on the previous Sunday. They were certainly a credit to +her. She washed the marble cross upon Lizzie's grave twice a year, and +planted flowers on each plot. Coming out of church, strangers would +pause to look at the Yellam reservation. If they read the +carefully-selected inscriptions, Mrs. Yellam would feel much uplifted. +In her square, brass-cornered desk, lay a sealed paper containing +instructions concerning her own funeral. A plain slab would tell other +strangers the date of her birth and death, her name, and her +destination. "Gone Home" was to be chiselled upon grey granite, and +filled in with leaded letters. Death had never dismayed her. When her +work was done, she would be called.</p> + +<p>Fancy woke up, still smiling.</p> + +<p>"You had a nice doze, dear. Pleasant dreams, too."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Fancy. But she couldn't remember her dreams.</p> + +<p>As she got out of her chair to go upstairs, she said:</p> + +<p>"This has been a happy day, Mother. I must remember it. What is the +day of the month?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam answered promptly:</p> + +<p>"It be the fifteenth of December. Only ten days to Christmas."</p> + +<p class="p5">Mrs. Yellam never forgot this date. Word came to her some +days later. On the fifteenth of December, a night attack was made upon +German trenches, an affair of small importance, not even mentioned in +the papers. When the men returned to their dug-outs, Sergeant Yellam was +reported—<i>Missing</i>.</p> + +<h3><a name="Ch18"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h3> + +<h4>MISSING!</h4> + +<p class="p2">Everybody assured Mrs. Yellam that Alfred had been taken +prisoner. Uncle was doubtful whether any nephew of his could be taken +prisoner, but he did not say this before his sister. The Squire, good +fellow, spent time and money over telegrams to the Colonel commanding +Alfred's battalion. And the answer confirmed popular opinion that +Alfred, by now, was in Germany, where prisoners of war—so Sir +Geoffrey assured Mrs. Yellam, received more humane treatment. The dead +and wounded, after the night attack, had been brought in. Alfred was not +amongst them. And therefore a prisoner. His Colonel, without a word from +Sir Geoffrey, expressed that as his positive belief.</p> + +<p>Fancy, very white and anxious, hugged such belief to her small bosom. +She said to Mrs. Yellam:</p> + +<p>"Alfred will come back."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam kissed her, muttering:</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. You be a brave lil' 'ooman."</p> + +<p>But Susan Yellam was dissembling. Iron had entered her soul again, +iron and ice. To Uncle and Solomon she admitted this.</p> + +<p>"He be dead, Habakkuk. I knows it. They Proosians 'd never take +Alferd alive. He be dead, and so be I."</p> + +<p>Poor Uncle fell back upon fool-wisdom.</p> + +<p>"Now, Susan, in these high matters, the truth be revealed to simple +minds, like Fancy's. Me and you, dear, be too clever. I've often thought +that gert brains, like yours, be a crool burden in such times as these. +You be too far-seein'. Fancy be wise as a bird. If she sticks to it as +Alferd be comin' back, come back he will, whatever you thinks."</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Yellam refused to be comforted.</p> + +<p>Next Sunday her pew was empty. Many charitably assigned this to +Fancy's condition. Hamlin and Uncle knew better. And they took counsel +together.</p> + +<p>"Can anything be said or done, Uncle?" asked the Parson.</p> + +<p>Uncle answered wisely:</p> + +<p>"She be past man's help, sir. Me and you has seen this a-comin' from +afar. The pore soul can guide herself so well as any 'ooman I knows, but +she do hate to be guided. Allers, she walked wi' the Lard in health, but +not in sickness. 'Tis wondersome, but it works t'other way about wi' me. +In health I seems to wander from the Lard, do what I will."</p> + +<p>"I tried once before—and failed."</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! You be a faithful shepherd, Mr. Hamlin; we all knows that. +If you ask my advice, sir——"</p> + +<p>"I do. I do."</p> + +<p>"Leave her in the Lard's Hands. None can deny that she be a faithful +servant o' His. He'll take pity on the pore dear in His good time."</p> + +<p>Hamlin seldom asked for advice from his fellow-men. He nodded his +head, shook Uncle's horny hand, and went back to his study.</p> + +<p>The great sacrifice demanded of him had strained his faith. Nobody +would ever know that. For a few hours he had sat alone, stunned by +sorrow. He told himself fiercely that he could have spared any one of +his sons except Teddy. The worldly ambitions which this man had +renounced for himself bloomed more vigorously for Teddy. He had all the +qualities which carry a young man far on any road: robust health, +excellent brains, untiring energy, and a kind heart. His jolly laugh, as +Hamlin knew, had secured him advancement, quite apart from his ability. +Others had ability. The happy combination of laughter and energy had +fetched four hundred a year in the open market. And Hamlin knew, none +better, what such men are worth to the world, what a stimulus a cheery +word and smile may be to the weary and sad. Why had Teddy been +taken?</p> + +<p>Ultimately, he answered that question.</p> + +<p>He must be wanted elsewhere. Hamlin held definite opinions about a +future life. He believed that death involved little change. He believed, +further, that the conflict between good and evil went on upon the Other +Side, that souls expanded or diminished over there just as here. Upon +that belief he had built up his philosophy of life. It explained and +justified apparent injustices and inequalities very perplexing to him as +a young man. He believed, also, that good or evil inspired all human +endeavour. The clay was informed by the spirit. Great writers, +influencing millions, were merely the mouthpiece, the megaphone, of +invisible spirits, guardian angels, to use the homely nursery +expression, who whispered their message to the vessel appointed to +receive it. Nobody, for many years, had heard him praise +enthusiastically an individual. He praised the work that each had been +inspired to do. In Nether-Applewhite, there happened to be a village +idiot, whose great lolling head and vacuous eyes excited terror in +children and often revulsion in adults. And the man was past middle age, +helpless and gibbering from birth. Hamlin never passed him without +reflecting that death would release an imprisoned soul destined, +perhaps, to an undreamed-of development hereafter, the greater because +it had been denied expression on earth. And, inversely, when he met, as +he did occasionally, men pre-eminent in science, or art, or industry, he +seemed to see clearly the man standing sharply apart from his work, +often a very ordinary person, undistinguished save for the amazing fact +that he had been selected, out of millions, to accomplish something +vital to the progress of the world.</p> + +<p>He had found Authority for this personal belief in the New +Testament.</p> + +<p>Hamlin sat still by his fire and thought of Mrs. Yellam. He desired +to help her with an intensity which few would have suspected. Her empty +pew, as before, stood out in his mind as a vacuum which he abhorred. Not +because he was a parson. Churchgoing, in one sense, the sense in which +William Saint regarded it, touched his humour. To go to church because +it was respectable and pleased the Squire, to mumble prayers, to +preserve a smug deportment, and rattle coins into an offertory plate, +approximated closely to comic opera! Mrs. Yellam attended church to +worship her Maker. Her abstention from Divine Service indicated loss of +faith, the most grievous loss that can be imposed upon human beings. +Faith filled Mrs. Yellam's pew; faithlessness emptied it. And if she, +the strong woman, the helper in so many good works, stayed away from +God's House, what would be the effect on the faith of others who looked +up to her as a pattern and example?</p> + +<p>His fighting instincts were strongly stirred. But Uncle was right. +For the moment, Susan Yellam stood alone, beyond man's help.</p> + +<p>He went to see her as a friend. As before, she received him with +perfect self-possession, answered his questions quietly, and assured him +that her own health caused her no anxiety. Hamlin thought of a chapel +standing by itself upon a high hill near Abbotsbury, in perfect +condition without, stripped within, an empty and deserted temple. +Presently Fancy came in, and Mrs. Yellam went out. After the first +greeting, Fancy exclaimed eagerly:</p> + +<p>"I know that Alfred will come back. I feel it here."</p> + +<p>She touched her bosom.</p> + +<p>He perceived, with poignant regret, the ravages wrought by suspense. +But this, he soon discovered, was not due to apprehension concerning +herself. She was worrying because Alfred would not get enough to eat. +She talked confidently of his escape from bondage. Alfred was a man of +resource, quick to seize opportunity. Dozens had got through to Holland. +Why not he?</p> + +<p>Then she spoke of the war. What did it all mean, this never-ending +slaughter? Was God angry with the world?</p> + +<p>Hamlin felt more at ease with this softer specimen of womanhood, who +had served him faithfully. He admitted frankly, despite the evidence of +the Old Testament, that he could not conceive of Omnipotence as "angry." +Then he appealed to her imagination, evoking out of his own hopes and +hypotheses a new world of nations, linked together by a nobler and wider +humanity, poorer in material things, richer in faith and charity. He +sketched for her prehistoric man concerned only with self-preservation. +He passed from this ape-man to his successor informed by love of his own +family. From him again to the chief concerned with the welfare of his +tribe. And thence to the monarch and his nation.</p> + +<p>"We must come, sooner or later, to Universal Brotherhood. That, I +think, Fancy, may come sooner because of this war. The gain to those who +are not yet born may be ten thousand times greater than our loss."</p> + +<p>Her pale cheeks flushed.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to think that." She paused, adding modestly: "Although my +thoughts don't matter."</p> + +<p>"But they do," he hastened to say. "This war is forcing people to +think, who have never thought before. Perhaps we preachers and teachers +have been unwise in asking others to accept our thoughts, instead of +encouraging them to think for themselves. Don't be afraid of thinking +things out. And when it comes to matters of religion, of faith...."</p> + +<p>He paused, trying to find simple words, struck by the intensity of +her glance, knowing that what he might say would be pondered over by a +quick intelligence.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir——?"</p> + +<p>"There would seem to be two kinds of faith, Fancy; the faith that +falls like the dew from heaven upon some little children, a free gift +from God; and the faith which we have to work for, and suffer for, and +fight for with every fibre of our being. I have had to work for my +faith; I have had to dig down and down till I came at last to some rock +upon which I could stand. I could hardly bear the cruelty of these +times, if I had not found that rock."</p> + +<p>"What is that rock, sir?"</p> + +<p>"A conviction that this life is only a part, a small part of a +tremendous whole which our finite minds are unable to grasp. That +conviction comes from experience. It is independent of what is called +revealed religion, although it has been revealed by all religions, +inasmuch as it must come from within to be of any real value and +comfort. It must be worked for, as I say, and paid for. The reward, when +that rock is reached, is very great."</p> + +<p>"What is it, sir?"</p> + +<p>"The peace that passes understanding. And now, Fancy, in the trial +that awaits you, trust in that first faith of which I spoke, the faith +that I am sure is yours. God knows what is best for us. We all try to +make Him walk in our ways, instead of walking humbly in His."</p> + +<p>She said shyly: "Thank you, sir; you have made things easier for +me."</p> + +<p>It was late when Hamlin left the Yellam cottage and bitterly cold. He +walked to Pomfret Court, and found the Squire in his room. In that room +hard words had passed between Squire and Parson. To-day they were +friends, working together. And the marriage of their children did not +adequately account for this. It was one of the unexpected results of the +war.</p> + +<p>"Dinner in five-and-twenty minutes," said Sir Geoffrey. "I'm +delighted to see you, my dear fellow."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could stop. I need your help."</p> + +<p>The Squire rang the bell. When the butler came, dinner was postponed +a quarter of an hour. Another straw to indicate a change in domestic +currents. Before the war, dinner at Pomfret Court had been regarded as a +sacred function, never postponed merely because the Parson wanted a word +with the Squire.</p> + +<p>"I want you to pull more strings," said Hamlin, after telling his +story at some length. "You know swells at the Foreign Office. It must be +possible to find out through some kind neutral at The Hague whether a +prisoner of the name of Alfred Yellam was taken upon the night of the +fifteenth. Very few prisoners have been taken lately; that would make +the enquiry comparatively simple."</p> + +<p>"I'll draw that cover to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>Hamlin thanked him and hurried away. The Squire was amazing. To +travel to London in this bitter weather meant the sacrifice of what the +genial Autocrat ranked high—comfort. He would go, like a terrier +to a fox, straight to a Mandarin and bark at him, worry him, stick to +him, till a pledge was extracted.</p> + +<p>He thought of the trains congested by Christmas travel, the lack of +porters and taxis. Obviously, the Squire recked nothing of this in his +hot desire to do a kind turn to a humble neighbour.</p> + +<p>Hamlin reflected that Christmas would be the cosier to the Autocrat +after a cold excursion. He remembered hearing him say that he never +appreciated his own fireside so much as after a bad day's hunting, when +the wind blew chill from the north and hounds wouldn't run a yard.</p> + +<p>Thoughts of hunting distracted the Parson as he strode back to his +lonely Vicarage. What a master passion it was in everybody! The Squire +hunted foxes in all weathers, regardless of weather conditions. Nothing +stopped him but a hard frost. His Parson hunted men and women, a more +arduous chase, hounding them out of covers where dirt, ignorance, +poverty and vice hid them from view. A hard frost, such as had settled +on Susan Yellam, stopped him. Others hunted fame, money, position, just +as ardently. And a hard frost, like this war, stopped them.</p> + +<p>When would the thaw set in for Mrs. Yellam?</p> + +<p>Upon Christmas Eve Fancy's ordeal began.</p> + +<p>Hamlin hoped and believed that tiny hands would melt the ice in an +old woman's heart. Everybody knew that Susan Yellam loved children, and +that her rather grim face inspired no terrors in them. She kept the +large green bottle full of bull's-eyes, simply because it lured +pattering feet to her door. If they trotted up too often, rebukes, not +bull's-eyes, were forthcoming. A sure way to her favour, as little girls +soon discovered, was to ask for a flower out of the garden. Farseeing +women, over-busy on washing-days, popped torn pinafores onto their +toddlers, knowing that Mrs. Yellam would be sure to take her needle and +repair the damage. She could always be called upon to sit up with a sick +child, provided—<i>bien entendu</i>—that she was permitted +to administer her own simple medicines. Grateful mothers, with an eye +upon further favours, would say to Mrs. Yellam in the presence of +neighbours:</p> + +<p>"Susan Yellam saved my Daisy's life."</p> + +<p>And then Mrs. Yellam would nod majestically, accepting such artful +homage as her just due.</p> + +<p>To Mrs. Yellam's great relief, Fancy suffered less than she had +feared and expected. Nature was kind to this soft-boned little woman, +and chloroform assuaged the fiercer pangs. But the baby seemed loath to +enter so cold a world. There were long and exasperating intermittencies, +which Fancy endured very patiently. Throughout these periods, when Fancy +wished to talk about Alfred, Mrs. Yellam dissembled. She even went so +far, in her eagerness to please and distract the patient, that she +accepted the sex of the tardy infant, speaking of it as "him," to +Fancy's great gratification.</p> + +<p>Finally, "He" was born at two o'clock upon Christmas Day.</p> + +<p>And, alack! the cards had not told true. <i>He</i> was a +<i>She</i>.</p> + +<p>Fancy did not know this for some time. Too exhausted to ask +questions, she lay silent and still, a faint smile upon her white face, +till she dozed off into a dreamless sleep.</p> + +<p>In the parlour downstairs, where a fire had been lighted in the +doctor's honour, Mrs. Yellam received another blow. There had been no +complications in the case; the baby was perfectly formed and normal in +every way. Nevertheless, the doctor looked worried and refused such +refreshment as had been provided. Obviously, too, he was in a hurry to +be gone, but he lingered.</p> + +<p>"She is very weak," he said, in a low, impressive voice.</p> + +<p>"That's natural."</p> + +<p>"Keep her as quiet as possible. I shall return about ten. The nurse +has my instructions. Great lack of vitality is indicated. Needless to +say, there is no question of her nursing the child. You are a strong, +sensible woman, Mrs. Yellam, and able to hide any anxiety you may feel +from the patient."</p> + +<p>The poor heart, just beginning to thaw, felt an icy hand closing +about it.</p> + +<p>"I know how to behave," she muttered.</p> + +<p>"I must prepare you for a possible change—not for the +better."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>She spoke so calmly, that the doctor glanced at her keenly. Was she +indifferent? It might be so. Relations, as he well knew, were often +strained between elderly women of strong character and their sons' +wives. He knew that Alfred had been reported missing. The monthly nurse +might be regarded as a professional, like himself, willing and able to +do her duty. More than this might be required. He reflected swiftly that +he must make the situation even plainer to this somewhat hard-faced, +hard-eyed woman.</p> + +<p>"She might sink from anæmia, Mrs. Yellam."</p> + +<p>"I understand, sir."</p> + +<p>He slipped on his heavy coat, picked up hat and gloves and turned to +leave the room. His motor was gently purring outside. Mrs. Yellam prided +herself upon her manners. But she never moved to open the door, till the +doctor had his hand upon it.</p> + +<p>"Sir——?"</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>She approached him. Her face remained calm, but he saw that her +strong, capable hands were twitching. Her voice, too, quavered a +little.</p> + +<p>"She be very dear to me, so dear that I be ready to fight for her +life harder than I would for my own. That's all."</p> + +<p>The doctor, ashamed of too hasty conclusions, took both her hands in +his.</p> + +<p>"That is much," he said gravely; "and it may make all the difference. +Good-night, Mrs. Yellam."</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, sir," she admonished him.</p> + +<p>Left alone, she sat down, palsied by despair.</p> + +<p>And this was Christmas Day!</p> + +<p>Upon the table, near the window, the big Bible caught her eye. She +stared at it, thinking of the page upon which, soon, she might be called +upon to make three entries—two deaths and one birth. Heavy +antimacassars embellished the horsehair-covered sofa and the armchairs. +Mrs. Yellam rose up, snatched three antimacassars from their +abiding-place and covered the Bible with them. Then she sat down again, +looking about her, glaring at the familiar objects, so eloquent of the +past. Upon each side of a large mirror, with its gilt frame protected by +muslin from flies that had never dared to enter the room, hung two +enlarged photographs of herself and her husband, taken some +five-and-twenty years ago. They seemed to stare unblushingly and +aggressively at her, as if they were rude strangers overbrimming with +self-importance, smug with prosperity.</p> + +<p>"Fools," said Mrs. Yellam, scornfully.</p> + +<p>She looked at the other photographs, each in turn, portraits of the +children who lay in the churchyard.</p> + +<p>"You be the lucky ones," she said, in the same derisive tone.</p> + +<p>There were many photographs of Alfred in all stages of development: +Alfred sucking his thumb with an expression upon his year-old +countenance as if he were thinking regretfully of something more +nourishing; Alfred in a much be-ribanded frock; Alfred in +knickerbockers; Alfred in a kilt; Alfred in trowsers, evidently on good +terms with himself and all the world; Alfred as he appeared in his +Sunday best, about to take the air with an audacious parlourmaid; and, +lastly, Alfred in khaki and Fancy, arm in crook.</p> + +<p>She glanced hastily at other photographs, of Sir Geoffrey and Lady +Pomfret and Master Lionel. They smiled so pleasantly that she frowned. +How dared they smile?</p> + +<p>She was not needed yet upstairs. So she sat on in the gate of her +sorrows, alone in the valley of Achor.</p> + +<p>She heard Solomon scratching at the door. She had left him asleep in +his basket, always placed each night by the kitchen hearth. Mrs. Yellam +let the dog scratch, but when he began whining she let him in, because +Fancy might be disturbed, not because she wanted her dog.</p> + +<p>Solomon looked at her, and knew.</p> + +<p>He governed himself accordingly. Mrs. Yellam had returned to her +chair. Solomon lay down at her feet. When she wanted to talk to him, she +would do so. He kept one ear cocked for the first word.</p> + +<p>During twenty minutes no word was said. The nurse was in charge of +Fancy and the baby. Mrs. Yellam had looked forward to assisting at these +first rites. The expected pleasure had turned into a grinding pain.</p> + +<p>Fancy was going, drifting out of life. Probably her baby would not +survive her many days. But she, the old woman, would remain. She gazed +down the long perspective of the years to come, cold, dull days without +one gleam of sunshine, full of inevitable pain.</p> + +<p>"I can't bear it," she said aloud. "It be too much for me."</p> + +<p>Solomon heard. He knew, of course, that the long-awaited words were +not addressed to him, but they sounded a clarion note of distress.</p> + +<p>He laid his head against her knee.</p> + +<p>She looked at him, meeting his clear young eyes. They seemed to be +full of interrogation.</p> + +<p>"If you want to talk, why not talk to me instead of to yourself?"</p> + +<p>She patted his head, and let her hand rest upon it. According to +Uncle, fool-wisdom in dogs warned them of impending disaster. Mrs. +Yellam knew that Solomon had behaved strangely upon the fifteenth of +December. Uncle had drawn conclusions from this which he shared with +Fancy and his sister. If fool-wisdom on the part of dogs could be +interpreted by man, and he held that he was the man to do it, why, then, +the fact of Solomon acting "queer" during the day of the fifteenth +surely indicated fore-knowledge of Alfred's danger. But the attack had +taken place at night. And the dog had exhibited no "queerness" after +sundown. Fancy had been much impressed. In his heart, however, Uncle +could not envisage Alfred as a prisoner. And we know that Mrs. Yellam +shared this view. At the same time, with her loss of faith in the mercy +of Omnipotence, and filling the vacuum which Hamlin so abhorred, came +the old craving to clutch at "signs." It is quite likely that if the +cards had "told true," and if a boy were now lying in the cradle +upstairs, that Mrs. Yellam would have fought despair more valiantly. She +might have persuaded herself that Fancy would "pull through" and that +Alfred would come back.</p> + +<p>At this moment she was at a low ebb mentally, although physically +able to confront any emergency. Despair destroys <i>morale</i>, as +soldiers know, and, paralysing action, heightens sensation. Mrs. +Yellam's overwrought brain refused to function normally.</p> + +<p>Solomon, she reflected, was not acting "queer."</p> + +<p>If Uncle were right——! If fool-wisdom could be +trusted——!</p> + +<p>She asked Solomon a question.</p> + +<p>"How be you feeling, my dog?"</p> + +<p>Solomon left her tired mind in no doubt on that point. He wagged his +tail, wriggling convulsively, ready to bark with any encouragement.</p> + +<p>"Shush-h-h! Don't 'ee bark, till I gives leave. What do 'ee think +about Fancy? Be she so bad as Doctor makes out?"</p> + +<p>Solomon tried to lick her hand.</p> + +<p>"That bain't an answer, Solly."</p> + +<p>He wagged his tail.</p> + +<p>Astounding as it may seem, this comforted Mrs. Yellam. She went +upstairs, peeped into her former room, perceived that Fancy was asleep, +and said to the nurse:</p> + +<p>"She be in a be-utiful sleep. Let's see the baby."</p> + +<p>The two women looked at the baby, and agreed that it was a fine +specimen. Mrs. Yellam said impressively:</p> + +<p>"Pore dear soul! She thinks it a He. Maybe 'twill be best not to +undeceive her."</p> + +<p>"She'll find out, Mrs. Yellam."</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! A crool shock. I allows that it be my duty to prepare +her."</p> + +<p>"She's low," said the nurse, in a professional tone. Mrs. Yellam knew +that the doctor, before leaving, had given the nurse instructions. The +nurse, however, made light of apprehension, saying incisively:</p> + +<p>"We'll pull her through, Mrs. Yellam. Nothing needed but constant +care for the first few days. Doctors always scare the gizzards out of us +because they think that we won't be careful unless they do."</p> + +<p>This was comforting. After more talk, Mrs. Yellam prevailed upon the +nurse to lie down. She proposed to sit by Fancy. The baby could be +trusted to be quiet, being a She, and, seemingly, blessed with a +pleasant temper.</p> + +<p>Fancy still slept.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam took the chair by the bedside. If nothing but care and +vigilance were needed, they should be forthcoming. She vowed to herself +that she would fight, tooth and nail, for this life, neglect no +precaution, run no risk. Physically, she braced herself for the combat. +Long ago, she had fought for the life of a child—and won! Doctor +and mother had despaired. It was a case of pneumonia. Hour after hour +Mrs. Yellam had applied hot cloths to the child's breast. And she had +willed fiercely that the child should live. Her strong will <i>had</i> +saved it. Everybody admitted that, even the doctor.</p> + +<p>Fancy slept for some hours. She awoke refreshed, free from pain, but +pitifully feeble. After obediently swallowing some food, she asked to +see the "boy."</p> + +<p>"All in good time," said Mrs. Yellam blandly.</p> + +<p>"But I may drop off to sleep again."</p> + +<p>"And a very good thing, too. The baby is asleep."</p> + +<p>"Has he blue eyes?"</p> + +<p>"Baby's eyes be allers blue at first."</p> + +<p>"Is he like Alfred?"</p> + +<p>"The living image. Now, don't 'ee talk."</p> + +<p>"If you bring him to me, I'll be ever so quiet."</p> + +<p>"I'll bring the child directly minute. 'Tis a lil' beauty, and a real +credit to 'ee. Alferd'll be tickled to death. Unbeknownst to yourself, +dear, you bore him what he wanted, and what I wanted. Now, I'll bring +her in."</p> + +<p>"Her——!"</p> + +<p>Fancy closed her eyes. Mrs. Yellam watched her anxiously. She saw two +tears trickle down the disappointed mother's cheeks. But she was +smiling, quick to see the joke against herself.</p> + +<p>She gave a little laugh, an attenuated sound, but the genuine +article.</p> + +<p>"Let's see her, Mother."</p> + +<p class="p5">The Beauty was brought in.</p> + +<h3><a name="Ch19"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h3> + +<h4>SUSPENSE</h4> + +<p class="p2">Sir Geoffrey returned home on Saturday, the 23rd, having +achieved his purpose. From The Hague, within twenty-four hours, discreet +enquiries would be made concerning Sergeant Yellam. But the answer might +be delayed a week.</p> + +<p>On Sunday and on Christmas Day Mrs. Yellam's pew was empty, but +everybody knew that she was in attendance upon Fancy.</p> + +<p>Hamlin preached what Uncle called a "very upliftin'" discourse, and +Uncle made it his business to drop down to the Yellam cottage during the +afternoon to learn how Fancy fared and to give his sister a synopsis of +the morning's sermon. By the luck of things, the nurse had just got up, +and was able to sit with Fancy, whilst Uncle talked with Susan in the +kitchen.</p> + +<p>"She be low, Habakkuk, but I be fighting for her. Oh, me! there's so +little of her. And no milk for the baby."</p> + +<p>"Lard preserve her dear life!"</p> + +<p>Susan frowned.</p> + +<p>"'Tis milk that be wanted."</p> + +<p>"You be right. Bottle-babies suffer crool wi' colic."</p> + +<p>"Not if I wash the bottles. Fancy have chosen the names."</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! Susan be one of 'em; I'll lay a crown-piece on that."</p> + +<p>"You'd lose your money. Lizzie Alfreda be the name."</p> + +<p>Uncle considered this, and commended the choice. Then he squared his +shoulders and inflated his big chest.</p> + +<p>"You missed a rare treat this marning, Susan."</p> + +<p>"Did I?"</p> + +<p>She spoke with indifference. Uncle believed in "gentling" refractory +horses and women. Conviction had descended upon him during the sermon +that he might be the Lord's instrument to lead Susan Yellam back to her +pew.</p> + +<p>"Pa'son preached about the Babe of Bethlehem, as was right and +proper, but I makes bold to say as he was thinking of 'ee, Susan, and of +Lizzie Alfreda, bless 'un."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam felt strangely bored. But she knew that it was hopeless +to try to stop Uncle. What did it matter what any parson said? She was +wondering whether she could apply for milk to Mr. Fishpingle, at the +Home Farm. Village cows, grazing by the roadside, might pick up any +noxious weed.</p> + +<p>Uncle continued solemnly:</p> + +<p>"Me and Pa'son sees eye to eye about babes. And times, when he do +drop out o' sky and walks the green earth with mortial men, I feel sure +that fool-wisdom be his as 'tis mine. We sucked 'un in wi' mother's +milk."</p> + +<p>Susan said abruptly:</p> + +<p>"I've a notion, Habakkuk, that the milk from they Freesian-Holsteen +cows bain't too rich for a baby's stomach."</p> + +<p>Uncle stared at her, anxiously. With difficulty, he assimilated her +thoughts, abandoning, for the moment, his own.</p> + +<p>"Quantity they gives, Susan, not quality. If I was lookin' after lil' +Lizzie Alfreda, dang me, if I wouldn't give 'un pure cream."</p> + +<p>"I'll be bound you would. Or old ale."</p> + +<p>She smiled grimly. Uncle really thought that the thaw had set in. He +continued joyously:</p> + +<p>"You listen to me, Susan; I've an upliftin' message for 'ee, and it +consarns what your thoughts be dwellin' on—the baby upstairs. +Pa'son made that plain this marning to us old sticks. The Babe of +Bethlehem brought good cheer and peace to a wicked world ten thousand +years ago, and the peace o' this world, seemin'ly, lies wi' the little +'uns. And we be bound to take extry good care o' they. I tell 'ee, +Pa'son talked so warm about babes that I felt it in me to raise another +family."</p> + +<p>"On pure cream?" asked Susan. But, at last, he had challenged her +attention.</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! You has your joke. But babes be goin' to be our salvation. +'Tis a brave, true notion. What makes a pack o' hounds, Susan? The young +drafts. If they be lackin' in bone and blood, they turns out skirters, +and presently the pack be streamin' all over country, runnin' riot, +chasin' everything and catchin' nothing. And so, old girl, when you sets +your gert mind on what milk to give lil' Lizzie, you be sarvin' the Lard +and your country."</p> + +<p>Encouraged by Susan's softer expression, Uncle went on, embroidering +his theme with pardonable exaggeration, setting forth prodigious +statistics. Millions of babes died for lack of proper care, millions +survived infancy to become rickety, misformed, wretched children. And +the war was going to change all this. A nation bled white of its men +must make the care of children its first and paramount consideration. +When he had finished, Susan was so impressed that she said +commandingly:</p> + +<p>"'Tis true. And your duty be plain, Habakkuk."</p> + +<p>"Meanin', Susan,——?"</p> + +<p>"You step up so brisk as may be to Home Farm. You see Mr. Fishpingle. +You tell 'un that my gran'child needs pure milk, and, if you don't get +it, your powers o' speech bain't what you crack 'em up to be."</p> + +<p>"Come wi' me, Susan. 'Twill blow some cobwebs out of 'ee."</p> + +<p>"No; I sets in this house till——"</p> + +<p>"Till when, you broody old hen?"</p> + +<p>"Till Fancy be better."</p> + +<p>After some protest, Uncle went his way alone, but he whistled as he +strode along, the jolly optimist. Next Sunday he would see Susan in her +pew. Soon there would be a christening, and word would come from Alfred. +Uncle now shared with the Squire the conviction that Alfred, probably +rushing ahead of his men, had been surrounded by Proosians and +overpowered.</p> + +<p>Upon the Tuesday, the Squire received a telegram from London, which +he shewed to his wife:</p> + +<p>"Yellam not a prisoner."</p> + +<p>The telegram was signed by one of the most honoured names in +England.</p> + +<p>Lady Pomfret sighed. The Squire fussed and fumed, detesting +mystery.</p> + +<p>"What does it mean, Mary? If he isn't a prisoner, where the dooce is +he? I have his Colonel's word for it that all the dead and wounded were +brought in. This telegram is equally reliable. I ask you, where is +Alfred Yellam?"</p> + +<p>"Shell-shock affects some of them very strangely."</p> + +<p>"What d'ye mean by that, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"You remember John Boyce?"</p> + +<p>The Squire was not likely to forget John Boyce, one of the quietest, +gentlest, and pluckiest of the many wounded men who had passed through +Pomfret Court. He had been a sufferer from shell-shock and gas, but +otherwise sound of limb. One morning, as the Squire was lathering his +face, word came to him that John Boyce had gone mad. Without pausing to +remove the lather, wearing pyjamas and slippers, the Squire had rushed +out of his dressing-room, downstairs, and into a corridor, where Boyce +stood at bay, with a valiant V. A. D. in front of him. He had escaped +from the ward, and happened to be close to Lionel's sitting-room. Into +this room the Squire led Boyce, trying to calm him down. The poor fellow +was possessed of suicidal mania. He had lost his chums and his health. +He demanded a rifle and permission to go into the garden and "end it." +It was piteous to hear him. As yet he had exhibited no violence. But in +Lionel's room, where swords were hanging on the wall, Boyce, with his +congested eyes on the naked steel, struggled desperately to get hold of +a sword. The Squire was a very powerful man, and Boyce undersized, but +insanity nearly mastered sanity. Suddenly, Boyce's body relaxed. All +violence went out of him. Soon he went back to the saloon, quite himself +again. Later, he was taken to Netley Hospital, where he recovered +completely.</p> + +<p>Lady Pomfret said slowly:</p> + +<p>"Just between ourselves, Geoffrey, is it possible that poor Alfred, +slightly wounded in the head, perhaps, is wandering somewhere in +France?"</p> + +<p>The Squire opened his mouth.</p> + +<p>"My dear Mary, are you hinting at—desertion?"</p> + +<p>"If he were not himself, like John Boyce?"</p> + +<p>The Squire had to admit that this was possible. Alfred must be +somewhere. Upon him would be his identification-disk. The number of this +had been sent to The Hague.</p> + +<p>"I must see Hamlin."</p> + +<p>He did. Hamlin told him that Fancy was fluttering between life and +death. Under the circumstances, it might be expedient to say nothing +about the telegram. To this the Squire warmly agreed. Nobody knew what +was in the <ins title="'telgram' in the original">telegram</ins>, except +Lady Pomfret and themselves. Nobody would know till Fancy had turned the +corner, one way or t'other, poor little dear!</p> + +<p>Within twenty-four hours all Nether-Applewhite knew.</p> + +<p>Somebody at the telegraph-office must have babbled.</p> + +<p>What followed may be imagined. Dick told Tom, and Tom told Harry, +till verisimilitude—to quote Gilbert—attached itself to an +otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative. Ultimately, the tale reached +the ears of Uncle. Alfred Yellam was a deserter—such a deduction +from the telegram might be considered crude, but on that very account +likely to be gobbled by gaffers—with a price set upon him, alive +or dead. King Garge on his throne knew it.</p> + +<p>Poor Uncle became distraught. If it were true, he could never carry a +high head again. Stoutly he refused to believe it, breathing strange +oaths and threatening violence to all and sundry. If such a wicked lie +reached Fancy's ears, it would kill her. He strode into the forest to +cool himself. Could he face his fellow-men in church? He beheld two +empty pews, and gnashed his teeth.</p> + +<p>Returning from the forest, somewhat easier in mind, he decided that +Susan must be warned. Very wisely he went to Hamlin first, who confirmed +the telegram, agreeing with Uncle that Mrs. Yellam should be told the +truth and what it had been twisted into by wagging tongues. Sensible of +Uncle's excitement and indignation, he said quietly:</p> + +<p>"You must rise above this gossip. It is not unnatural and not +ill-natured."</p> + +<p>"I begs your pardon, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Sir Geoffrey says that Alfred must be somewhere. For my part, I +prefer to think of him in the care, perhaps, of some friendly French +peasant, tending a man who may not remember his own name."</p> + +<p>"That be a mort o' comfort. Twice in my long life, I minds forgetting +my own name. I took a notion that I were the village idiot. Bad ale's +tricksy stuff. But desartion be a tarr'ble word."</p> + +<p>Hamlin clapped him hard on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Nobody who knows Alfred, or his mother, or you, would credit such a +monstrous perversion of the truth."</p> + +<p>Uncle, much heartened, betook himself to his sister's cottage, where +the surprise of his life awaited him. Susan literally jumped at this new +hypothesis. She burst into excited speech.</p> + +<p>"If Squire thinks that, 'tis so. Parson be a wonnerful man, but, as +you says, Habakkuk, sky-high above we. Squire be clay, a gert human +bein' wise wi' the wisdom that I understands. If he holds that my Alferd +be wanderin', pore dear, in France, 'tis so. I feels a different 'ooman +to-night. And Fancy be better, too, wi' some sart o' appetite for her +victuals. I be fightin' hard for her life, Habakkuk, and I believes +to-night that all will be well. 'Tis queer, Fancy keeps on a-sayin' to +me: 'Alferd'll come back.'"</p> + +<p>"Maybe he will, maybe he won't. Pa'son be prayin' in church for +Alferd. 'Twould seem more respectful-like if you jined in wi' your loud +voice."</p> + +<p>At once Mrs. Yellam's face hardened.</p> + +<p>"I bide at home till Alferd comes back."</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h! You be set as never was on guidin' yourself, Susan. Now, +what about tellin' Fancy?"</p> + +<p>"I tells her the moment you be gone. 'Twill perk her up, better'n +ginger-brandy. And what do I keer what they says in village? Let 'un +talk. Squire be right. Alferd must be somewheres."</p> + +<p>Fancy was told within the hour. It will never be known whether the +news affected her for good or ill. Mrs. Yellam lacked imagination. +Fancy, we may believe, conjured up a lamentable picture of her Alfred, +bereft of his wits, wandering in a strange land, homeless and +half-starving, at the mercy of the elements in mid-winter. But she +repeated the main clause in her creed:</p> + +<p>"Alfred'll come back."</p> + +<p>Napoleon has assured us that repetition is the greatest figure of +rhetoric. The stone is worn away by the ever-falling drop of water. +Fancy's reiterated phrase fell persistently upon the ice in Susan +Yellam's heart and melted some of it, not all.</p> + +<p>Upon the Thursday morning the Squire received a letter from the +Colonel commanding Sergeant Yellam's battalion. He read it to Lady +Pomfret.</p> + +<p class="blockquote">"My dear Sir:</p> + +<p class="blockquote">"With deep regret I have to inform you of the +death of Sergeant Alfred Yellam upon the night of the fifteenth of +December. All the facts have come to light, beyond dispute. One of our +wounded men has been lying unconscious in our receiving hospital. Last +night he became conscious. It seems that Yellam was close to him when a +shell from a trench howitzer burst literally upon poor Yellam. According +to the evidence of the wounded man Yellam disappeared. That was the last +indelible impression of the only witness, who was struck by a splinter +from the same shell, and lost consciousness immediately afterwards.</p> + +<p class="blockquote">"Sergeant Yellam had earned the affection and +confidence of all ranks. He was the type of man we value most, cool in +danger, modest at all times, cheerful, energetic and capable. Peace be +with him!</p> + +<p class="quotesig2">"Yours faithfully,</p> + +<p class="quotesig1">"Courtenay Tring.</p> + +<p class="blockquote">"P. S.—The official communication will reach +Sergeant Yellam's widow in due course. This letter will precede it, and +I leave it to your discretion what to do."</p> + +<p>"What shall we do?" groaned the Squire.</p> + +<p>Before telling the news to anybody else, Sir Geoffrey walked to the +Vicarage. Hamlin read the letter.</p> + +<p>"Susan Yellam must be told," he said slowly. "She can intercept the +official communication. Such news would kill Fancy."</p> + +<p>"Who will tell Susan?"</p> + +<p>"I will take the letter to her."</p> + +<p>The Squire looked at his face. He wondered why Hamlin was so +affected. The Parson had sat down, as if he had received a personal +blow. He rested his austere face upon his hand, thinking not of the +young wife, so full of faith and courage, but of the old woman. Sir +Geoffrey said impulsively:</p> + +<p>"I wish that you could be spared this, Hamlin."</p> + +<p>"So do I."</p> + +<p>"You might let Jane Mucklow do it, or Uncle."</p> + +<p>"Susan Yellam is my parishioner. God's hand lies heavy on +her—how heavy I am unable to determine. I have never felt, +Pomfret, so conscious of my disabilities, of anæmic faith in such cases +as this."</p> + +<p>The Squire stood confounded.</p> + +<p>"I wish I had your faith, Hamlin."</p> + +<p>"What is faith?" asked Hamlin, almost fiercely. "Is it merely a +belief that satisfies and helps oneself? The faith that burned in the +Apostles was more than that. It saved others. Virtue, at a touch, went +out of the faithful into the faithless. If I could touch this poor old +woman——!"</p> + +<p>"You will," said the Squire, with assurance.</p> + +<p>"No. And that is why I wish that I could be spared +another—failure."</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards he left the Vicarage, and, passing the church, paused +a moment. He went in and stood near the Font, staring at the Christmas +decorations and then at the Pomfret achievements emblazoned upon many of +the windows. The decorations served to remind the smallest child in his +congregation that another Child had been born into the world; the +achievements reminded the more sophisticated of the Pomfrets who had +died. The Child had been born to save others; the Pomfrets, many of them +worthy, God-fearing persons, had been mainly concerned in preserving +their own bodies and souls.</p> + +<p>"He saved others; Himself He cannot save."</p> + +<p>The wonderful line came into his mind, as his thoughts dwelt upon the +millions of seemingly righteous, respectable men and women bent on +saving their own souls, with but little regard for the souls of others. +The Salvation Army, so derided and condemned by Church and State when he +was a boy, had accomplished work which could not be ignored by priest +and prelate, work undertaken by labourers with no outshining +qualifications except faith in their ability to convince others, others +as humble in condition as themselves, who stood, for the most part, +beyond the pale of organised charity and richly-endowed religious +denominations.</p> + +<p>Did this war, in relation to such thoughts, assume a new +significance? Could regeneration, reconstruction come from below, from +the masses, for example, out of which General Booth had enlisted his +soldiers? Would a privilege, the noblest in the world, the sacrosanct +prerogative to touch others to finer issues, emanate from the +unprivileged? Hamlin could not answer the question. Or, as seemed more +likely, would light shine from above, from a purified aristocracy, +purged of self-interest by sacrifice, proud and eager to remove +intolerable burdens from their less fortunate fellow-men? Or, a happier +hypothesis than either, would the complex problem be solved by +co-operation of masses and classes made one by sorrow and suffering, +born anew through blood and tears? It might well be so.</p> + +<p>He left the church, and walked through the village. Much rain had +fallen. He noticed that the Avon was swollen, and ready to overflow its +banks. The wind blew cold upon his cheeks. The sun moved behind heavy +clouds ready to discharge vast accumulations of moisture. In short, a +raw, drizzling day, one of the last of an unhappy year.</p> + +<p>When Hamlin reached the cottage, a small girl, who came in during the +morning to do house-work, the scrubbing and cleaning so dear to Susan, +told the Parson that Mrs. Yellam was upstairs. She believed that Mrs. +Alfred had passed a nice night. The baby was doing "lovely."</p> + +<p>Susan appeared within a minute. A glance at Hamlin's face was enough +for her. In silence he took her hand and pressed it.</p> + +<p>"You has news of Alferd, sir?"</p> + +<p>Her voice was perfectly calm, calmer than his.</p> + +<p>"I have a letter from his Commanding Officer. Sit down, and read +it."</p> + +<p>They were alone in the parlour. The antimacassars had been taken from +the big Bible and replaced. But no fire burned in the grate. To Hamlin +the room stood for all that he detested and assailed in English life and +character. In its humble way, it positively exuded pretension. The +carpet, a crudely-coloured body Brussels, the ornaments on the +mantel-shelf, the enlarged photographs, the horse-hair and mahogany +furniture, the prim bookcase, glazed and glaringly varnished, +imprisoning, under lock and key, books that nobody read or could read, +the mirror, the velveteen curtains with imitation lace under-curtains, +all had been bought to impress neighbours! It was pathetic to reflect +that Mrs. Yellam thought this hideous parlour a thing of beauty, whereas +her kitchen, a joy to behold, was merely regarded as utilitarian. And +yet the kitchen expressed sincerely all that was finest in Mrs. Yellam; +the parlour set forth blatantly the defects of her strong +personality.</p> + +<p>She read the letter.</p> + +<p>"May I keep it, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Colonel Tring tells us, Mrs. Yellam, what we all know here. +Alfred was a son to be proud of."</p> + +<p>Her face remained impassive. She agreed respectfully that it would be +unwise to tell Fancy the truth till some measure of strength returned to +her. Hamlin had thought out a score of simple sentences. He said none of +them. In all his long life he had never realised so acutely the +illimitable space which may divide two human beings. At this moment +Parson and Parishioner stood far apart as the poles. He had intended to +allude to his own son. But she might fling in his teeth the cutting +reminder that he had others and a daughter. And in this cold, ugly room, +looking upon her frozen face, sympathy congealed at its source. He +withheld condolence, because it must hurt instead of help. In silence he +commended her soul to God, and went away.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam unlocked her brass-cornered desk, and placed the letter +amongst other papers. Then, idly, she looked out of the window, which +faced the road and river. Before Hamlin came, she had stood at the +window upstairs, staring out upon the same familiar landscape. And she +had asked for a sign. She had looked at the heavy clouds even as Fancy +had looked at her cards. If light shone through them, she might believe +that for her spring and summer would bloom again.</p> + +<p>The sign had not been vouchsafed.</p> + +<p>Now, she stood at the window again, with features slightly relaxed. +Such an expression informed her face as may be seen, sometimes, on the +faces of steerage passengers upon trans-Atlantic boats taking leave for +ever of their native land.</p> + +<p>She turned from the window and went, heavily, into the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Had she waited a minute longer, she would have seen a sign. Through +the falling rain shone a strange light, palely amber. It illuminated the +dull water-meadows, evoking colour—iridescent, opaline +tints—where colour had ceased to be. It transmuted, magically, the +sombre lead of the swollen river into sparkling gold. And then, swiftly, +the light failed, the vision splendid vanished like a mirage, leaving +behind a desert.</p> + +<p>She went up stairs. Fancy said eagerly:</p> + +<p>"What does Mr. Hamlin say, Mother?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam hesitated, for one second only. She was unprepared for +this question; she had forgotten the small maid who had scuttled into +the room, saying that the Parson wanted to see Mrs. Yellam. With a +tremendous effort she lied superbly, this woman who loathed lies +because, in her masculine wisdom, she knew that lies made all ordinary +matters worse instead of better.</p> + +<p>She held up her finger.</p> + +<p>"You be much too curious, my girl. Mr. Hamlin dropped in, very +friendly-like, to ask me about the baby's christening. He be a oner for +gettin' the lambs into the fold so quick as may be."</p> + +<p>Fancy was quite satisfied.</p> + +<p>"I told 'un," continued Mrs. Yellam placidly, embroidering her theme +after a fashion which surely would have provoked envy and commendation +from Uncle, "that you'd be up and about in no time. We passed a few +cheerful remarks about this be-utiful weather, and then off he +goes."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to wait for Alfred," murmured Fancy. "I've a notion that +he'll come before the New Year. If he ain't a prisoner, he will come. I +wonder if he knows how bad I want him."</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h!" She paused, and then added sharply: "If wanting 'd bring +Alferd, he'd be here now. You eat more and think less, and then we'll +all be happy."</p> + +<p class="p5">With that Mrs. Yellam went abruptly out of the room.</p> + +<h3><a name="Ch20"></a>CHAPTER XX</h3> + +<h4>THE TRAVELLER RETURNS</h4> + +<p class="p2">Throughout the day, Mrs. Yellam hovered in and out of +Fancy's room, instinctively conscious that her patient was less strong, +but obstinately determined to fight that instinct. Outwardly, there was +no change. Fancy lay quiet, thinking and talking of Alfred. Lizzie +Alfreda, happily, evoked no maternal anxiety. Colic did not disturb the +infantile slumbers. She smiled ineffably at a bottle which contained +Frisian-Holstein milk drawn from prize-winners, and judiciously blended +with lime-water. On this mild tipple the child thrived amazingly. The +monthly nurse now retired to her own cottage at night, returning in the +morning. Susan Yellam slept upon a small bed made up in Fancy's room. +The doctor had expressed gratification at the increasing vitality of his +patient. And on the Wednesday, he said that he should not call again for +three days, unless he were sent for. He congratulated Susan upon her +devotion and skill with unmistakable sincerity.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon, the morning's drizzle became a downpour, and the +Avon escaped from its banks. If such rain continued, the Yellam cottage +would soon become an island. Susan was not disturbed by this. Nothing +mattered; nothing distracted her save the overpowering determination to +put Fancy on her feet again. Fancy would assume control of her child. +And then an old woman would sit down, fold her hands, and await the end. +Her premature conviction that Fancy would die and that she would live +had been modified on reflection. Susan held theories about life and +work. Before the war she had contended that folks were called when their +work was done. A few rotten apples might stick to the tree, but they +proved the general rule. Fruit fell to the ground when ripe.</p> + +<p>Satisfied in her mind that she would save Fancy by her own undivided +efforts, Mrs. Yellam contemplated with grim satisfaction her approaching +decease. She regarded herself as dead. She could survey with detachment +what was left of the Susan who rose early, waited diligently upon Fancy, +ate her meals (without any pleasure in them) and lay down to troubled +sleep. So chilled was she in mind, soul and body, that she noticed +without regret that Solomon, the faithful Solomon, too affectionate, too +demonstrative to a hard old flint, had transferred his allegiance to +Fancy. The dog lay at the foot of her bed night and day. Fancy talked to +him about Alfred, not about Lizzie Alfreda, because Solomon was jealous. +When Lizzie Alfreda came in, Solomon went for a run in the garden, and +heartened himself up by sniffing at various food-stuffs in a delightful +state of decomposition. But, oddly enough, he never wandered farther +afield. Within half an hour—Lizzie Alfreda's visits were +drastically curtailed—he would patter up the wooden stairs, +scratch at the door, whine, and be admitted. In a jiffy he was on the +bed again, staring hard at Fancy, as if he were a doctor contemplating a +change of treatment.</p> + +<p>It had been agreed between Hamlin and Mrs. Yellam that Alfred's death +should be kept a secret from the villagers till the official +notification appeared in the newspapers. But when Uncle walked into the +cottage at tea-time, full of cheer despite the weather, and cracking +many small jokes about boats and swimmers, Mrs. Yellam simply could not +bear it. She said with startling abruptness:</p> + +<p>"Habakkuk, I'd break bad news to 'ee gently, if I could. But 'tisn't +in me to do it. Alferd be dead."</p> + +<p>Poor Uncle could not take it in.</p> + +<p>"But, Susan, Alferd be lost."</p> + +<p>"'Twas a shell. They couldn't find 'un, because there was nothing to +find."</p> + +<p>To her dismay, Uncle bowed his head upon his hands and wept like a +woman, shedding the copious tears that might have softened the hard eyes +steadily regarding him. He had loved Alfred. Susan knew this. He could +have better spared one of his own sons rather than this kindly, +affectionate nephew. She rose quietly and fetched the letter, giving him +time to recover his self-control. As she held out the letter, he raised +a face to hers so seamed by grief and pain that almost, almost her heart +melted within her. He read the letter and returned it. She put it away, +and took a chair upon the other side of the hearth. Uncle gazed about +him, noting, as men do upon such occasions, trifles that escape notice +in happier times. The coffin stools stood in their old place against the +wall. Uncle pointed at them, with trembling finger:</p> + +<p>"Fancy be dead, too."</p> + +<p>"No. She be more like herself to-day, although tarr'ble weak. They +stools be for me, Habakkuk. The sooner I goes the better."</p> + +<p>No inflection of resignation tempered this statement. Uncle, like +Hamlin, realised the futility of condolence, but silence imposed too +great a burden upon him.</p> + +<p>"You has the baby," he suggested.</p> + +<p>"She belongs to Fancy. I bain't afeard for they two."</p> + +<p>"Be you afeard for yourself, Susan?"</p> + +<p>She eyed him, sensible of an ever-increasing aversion to questions. +Was he thinking of punishment hereafter, of Hell's fires?</p> + +<p>"I bain't afeard o' Hell, and I bain't going to Heaven. For why? +Heaven and Hell be here on earth—and nowheres else."</p> + +<p>"Susan——!"</p> + +<p>"Ay, you be mazed, and no wonder. But I be come to that. I believed +in God A'mighty; I believed in Satan—for sixty long years. But +such belief be clean gone."</p> + +<p>"You be wrong, Susan. It ain't in me to argufy wi' 'ee, and, maybe, +tear both our hearts. But you be wrong. The swallers knows better'n +that. Who gave 'em their wisdom? I says no more but this: God sent His +Own People into the wilderness, where you be, and He brought 'em +out."</p> + +<p>She shook her head. Uncle stood up.</p> + +<p>"'Tis rainin' crool hard, but I be off to the Forest. You won't want +Jane fussin' about 'ee? No. Or anybody else. I allers allowed as misery +loved company, but I be so miserable this day that I wants to be alone, +as you does."</p> + +<p>He kissed her cold cheeks and went out into the rain.</p> + +<p>She sat on for a minute, but the thought that worried her most was +the regret that he had not had his tea. The day was failing fast. In a +moment she would have to light a lamp and carry it upstairs. But +something remained to be done, a duty neglected since the morning.</p> + +<p>She went into the parlour, where the light was better, but not good; +good enough, she reflected, for her purpose. She lifted the Bible, +placed it upon the middle table, and opened it at the fly-leaf. Then she +took pen and ink from her desk and a clean sheet of blotting-paper. She +took out her spectacles, wiped them carefully, put them on, and sat +down. Against Alfred's name she made the necessary entry, "<i>Killed in +Action</i>," adding the date. Her hand never trembled; the writing was +characteristic; firm, bold, with the words neatly spaced, indicating +love of order. What she had willed herself to be, she was: a flint +embedded in sterile soil. She took off her spectacles and placed them in +their case, rising as she did so. Upon second thoughts, she decided to +let the ink dry upon the page. Suddenly, an irresistible impulse gripped +her. She glanced about her furtively, defiantly, as if challenging +unseen powers to thwart her determination. Hastily with fingers that +trembled this time, she snatched up the pen, dipped it into the ink, and +wrote against her name, Susan Yellam, these words:</p> + +<p>"<i>Died. December 28th, 1916.</i>"</p> + +<p>As hastily, she placed the sheet of blotting-paper above the entries, +closed the Bible, and replaced it upon its table.</p> + +<p>Having shut up the parlour, she lit a lamp and carried it upstairs. +The baby was asleep. The nurse went home for the night. Then Mrs. Yellam +told Fancy, in a cheerful voice, that she would bring up tea in a few +minutes.</p> + +<p>"I thought I heard Uncle," said Fancy.</p> + +<p>"Yes; he looked in and made some stupid jokes, he did, about gettin' +the miller's boat."</p> + +<p>"Whatever for?"</p> + +<p>"Like as not we may be on an island afore nightfall."</p> + +<p>Fancy smiled.</p> + +<p>"I'd love to ride in miller's boat again. Alfred popped the question +in that. I did tease him first. 'Twas rare fun. I suppose Uncle was in +fine fettle, as usual?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I never seen him so gay and joyous. Now, you lie so quiet as +any mouse whilst I gets tea."</p> + +<p>It might have been so delightful a meal. Outside, the wind roared and +the rain fell in sheets; inside, the logs crackled in the fireplace, the +warm curtains were drawn, and the lamp shone upon Mrs. Yellam's best +tea-things. Everything that could tempt a capricious appetite was there: +fragrant tea, cream, jam, honey, and little scones which warranted the +belief that Susan Yellam had secreted somewhere a bag of white +flour.</p> + +<p>Susan had to sustain the burden of talk, and soared to heights. Fancy +must be entertained—the doctor's injunction. The old woman's +amazing will surmounted all obstacles. And who shall say that this +heart-breaking effort to beguile Fancy was not the most selfless +achievement of Mrs. Yellam's long life? She described passages in +Uncle's early career; anecdotes about Jane, anecdotes about her own +Lizzie and Alfred. As a boy, it seemed, Alfred had been very untidy. He +never kept his own little attic in order. Finally his mother said to +him:</p> + +<p>"Alferd, your room bain't a boy's room, nor a dog's kennel, nor a +pig's stye. 'Tis the habitation of a lunatic."</p> + +<p>Fancy smiled, because the mother must have spoken at the time, and +again now, with such inimitable seriousness.</p> + +<p>After tea, Fancy was commanded to rest. But before doing so, she +caught hold of her entertainer's hand, and said earnestly:</p> + +<p>"How good you are to me, Mother! How good and kind you always are to +sick folk. Such a wondersome woman! I hope my lil' maid will grow up +just like you."</p> + +<p>"If you talk such outrageous nonsense, I'll—I'll spank Lizzie. +That'll larn 'ee."</p> + +<p>But Fancy refused to be gagged. She went on, in her soft, feeble +tones, expatiating upon Mrs. Yellam's many virtues and excellencies. +Time was when Susan would have listened to this praise with smug +complacency. Fancy did but state the facts. And the mere recital of them +exasperated the listener beyond endurance. Steel striking +flint—and praise had become steel—provoked sparks.</p> + +<p>"I be real vexed wi' 'ee, Fancy."</p> + +<p>She bustled off with the tea-things, and remained absent so long that +Fancy began to fear that she had really offended her. Solomon, however, +reassured her on this point. They exchanged pleasant chat about Alfred. +Fancy felt jealous because Solomon would know when Alfred was coming at +least five minutes before she did.</p> + +<p>"You'll jump off the bed and bark."</p> + +<p>Solomon wagged his tail.</p> + +<p>"My! Won't he get wet if he comes to-night, Solly? Are you expecting +him to-night, you wise little dog?"</p> + +<p>Solomon put a cold nose into her hand. Mrs. Yellam's step was heard +on the stairs. Solomon retired to his end of the bed, well aware that +prolonged talk had been forbidden after tea.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam, seeing that Fancy was awake, said impressively:</p> + +<p>"We be an island at this minute."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam assured her that it had often happened before. The +cottage itself stood high above the encroaching waters. At highest flood +they were not more than two feet deep.</p> + +<p>"Alfred'll get so wet."</p> + +<p>"Ay. I never thought o' that. I think, Fancy, that you did ought to +put this strange notion of Alferd's coming out of your dear lil' head. +'Tis most onlikely. I dunno' how such a queer idea got into it."</p> + +<p>"Because he promised me that he would come."</p> + +<p>"But, Lard bless 'ee, he meant so be as he got leave. If 'tis true +that he be safe in France——"</p> + +<p>"I know he be safe."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam glanced at her anxiously. Was the girl light-headed? She +must know that if Alfred were missing, owing—as Fancy had been +discreetly told—to some injury to his head which had caused him to +stray from the British lines, his first steps, when he became himself +again, would be directed back to his battalion. Wisely, she busied +herself about the room, entreating her patient to compose herself to +sleep. Presently Fancy dozed off, and Mrs. Yellam, softly approaching +the bed, examined her critically. She looked startlingly pretty. A faint +colour tinged lips and cheeks; her skin was translucently clear; her +hair, regularly brushed by Mrs. Yellam, lay thick and lustrous above her +forehead.</p> + +<p>It was almost impossible to behold her as a widow.</p> + +<p>For the first time since she had dedicated all her energies to +fighting for this frail life doubt assailed Mrs. Yellam. Fancy's hand +lay upon the white counterpane. Mrs. Yellam laid her hand beside it and +compared the two.</p> + +<p>All her experience of life as it is lived by people who cannot afford +servants, the endless bondage to manual labour, the washing, scrubbing +of floors and pots and pans, the cooking, the mending, rose up in her +ample mind, and filled it with poignant misgiving. Could this attenuated +hand, soft and weak as a child's, fend for Lizzie if—if Death came +at the despairing call of Susan Yellam?</p> + +<p>She clenched her own hand, nearly as large and powerful as a man's +fist. Fancy <i>must</i> live to mother her child. She had no claim on +Death, this young, pretty creature, so easily pleased with life, so +happy with simple things, so contented with what she possessed, +incapable of envying those above her in station. Time would be kind to +her. Time would enshrine Alfred in her heart as the man who had taught +her to love, who had given her a fidelity and tenderness rarely found in +cottages or palaces. She might marry again. Why not? It says much for +Susan Yellam's essential wisdom that she could visualise such a +possibility, however remote, without a pang.</p> + +<p>A couple of hours passed.</p> + +<p>Lizzie Alfreda was fed and washed, with Fancy looking on, and +replaced in her cradle. Mrs. Yellam mended the fire, and went down to +the kitchen to prepare supper. Fancy seemed to be refreshed after her +nap, but some inflection of her voice warned an obstinate old woman that +strength was departing, very slowly, almost imperceptibly, as the +hour-hand moves round the dial.</p> + +<p>After supper she took her knitting and sat by the bed. To her great +relief, Fancy never mentioned Alfred. She prattled artlessly about +Lizzie. And then, gradually, during the intermittancies of silence, Mrs. +Yellam knew that the victory, for which she had fought so desperately, +which she had believed to be won, was unachievable. Afterwards, she was +unable to say when this conviction seized her. She admitted, however, to +Uncle that she knew because Fancy must have known. And Fancy believed +that she was cunningly hiding this knowledge. It leaked from her lips, +as she talked about Lizzie Alfreda to her grandmother, conjuring up a +picture of youth ministering to age, a picture so vivid, so true to +life, that something told Susan Yellam that it must come to pass. Fancy +was going. And when her own time came, she would lie in this bed, and +Alfred's child would close her eyes. Fancy foreshadowed no such scene. +But she spoke of Mrs. Yellam teaching Lizzie Alfreda how to use her +needle and instructing her in other domestic tasks. The thought of doing +this, of playing mother in her old age, softened indurated tissues, but +the original hardness remained. Susan turned desperately for comfort to +a flesh-and-blood grandchild; she turned as desperately from any faith +in a wise and merciful God.</p> + +<p>Outside, the rain went on falling; the wind wailed through the firs +where the ospreys found sanctuary on their flight south. Solomon slept +comfortably at the foot of the bed. Presently, it became time to prepare +Fancy for the night. Face and hands were washed with soap which Mrs. +Yellam had never applied to her weather-beaten countenance. Fancy's hair +was brushed and plaited in two coils.</p> + +<p>"Put on fresh ribands to-night, mother."</p> + +<p>"What an idea! You be so vain as any twoad."</p> + +<p>"Are toads vain? I'd like blue ribands."</p> + +<p>Grumblingly, Mrs. Yellam went to a drawer and produced new ribands. +When she had finished her patient's toilet, she said:</p> + +<p>"My! But you look pretty to-night."</p> + +<p>"Do I? I'm glad of that."</p> + +<p>Lizzie Alfreda woke up, clamouring for Frisian-Holstein milk. She lay +beside Fancy till the bottle was finished. Then she was taken back to +her cradle in the next room.</p> + +<p>It was fully time now for Mrs. Yellam to prepare for the night, but +she didn't do so. Fancy had closed her eyes. The faint colour had gone +from her cheeks. She had fallen asleep. Susan laid her finger upon the +pulse; she could just feel it beating, but not regularly. A wild impulse +surged through her to rush into the night, to send Uncle for the doctor. +But she dared not leave her patient. And, after all, there was so little +change; the child had talked too much after tea; strength would return +in the morning.</p> + +<p>She made up the fire again, slipped off her austere black gown, and +put on a dressing-gown, an ancient garment known to many mothers in +Nether-Applewhite. Draped in this, with list sandals on her feet, you +might have taken Susan for a Roman matron. Hamlin, who had seen her thus +arrayed, nearly addressed her as "Cornelia."</p> + +<p>An hour or more may have passed, during which time the gale began to +rage itself out. Lulls succeeded roaring blasts. Mrs. Yellam felt no +inclination to sleep; she became, instead, sensible of alertness, a +quickening of sensibilities and senses. Her hearing, still acute, became +painfully so. The patter of the rain upon the windows irritated her; +when it stopped, she missed it, and wanted it to begin again.</p> + +<p>And then a strange thing happened, strange only when taken in +connection with what followed. Solomon woke up, jumped lightly from the +bed, and went to the door. He had been let out, as usual, some two hours +previously. Mrs. Yellam held up a finger, enjoining silence. Solomon lay +down, head up, staring at the door, alert, as Mrs. Yellam was, +expectant, with ears cocked as if he heard something or somebody.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Solly?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>He paid no attention.</p> + +<p>If the cottage had not been surrounded by water, Mrs. Yellam might +have considered the probability of tramps trying to find shelter in the +barn. She would not have been alarmed. Her cottage was tramp-proof and +at this moment an island fortress. At the same time, she knew that her +heart was beating faster; an indefinable fear assailed her, something +she had never experienced before.</p> + +<p>She started violently. Fancy was sitting up in bed, her cheeks +flushed with colour, her eyes dancing, her arms outstretched.</p> + +<p>"I hear him," she exclaimed. "Don't you, Mother?"</p> + +<p>"Lie down, child; lie down."</p> + +<p>"It's Alfred. Let him in!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam did not move. Fancy, she decided, was light-headed. She +hesitated, fearing to excite her, willing to humour her, provided she +made no attempt to leave her bed.</p> + +<p>"He's coming upstairs."</p> + +<p>She no longer looked at Mrs. Yellam; her eyes remained upon the +bedroom door. So strange a light shone in those eyes that Mrs. Yellam +began to question her own sanity, not Fancy's.</p> + +<p>Solomon never moved.</p> + +<p>The suspense became unendurable. But Mrs. Yellam remained in her +chair, ready to spring to her feet, if Fancy left the bed.</p> + +<p>Solomon got up, whined, turned from the door, and jumped into Mrs. +Yellam's lap. He was trembling. At the same moment she heard Fancy's +voice, strong and exultant:</p> + +<p>"Alfie!—I knew you'd come."</p> + +<p>Her speech became broken and faltering:</p> + +<p>"I did want you, as never was. It was awful going through it without +you. And it's a She—what you wanted. How lovely you look! Kiss me +again! Hold me tight! If you don't, I—I may slip off...."</p> + +<p>Her voice died away in sighs; her eyes closed; her head fell back +upon her pillow. Mrs. Yellam put Solomon down, rose to her feet, and +hurried to the bed. In an instant her strong arms were encircling the +wasted body, clutching it to her, trying to hold Fancy back, but knowing +that she was, as she said, slipping away. Fancy spoke again, very +faintly:</p> + +<p>"However did you manage to come back?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yellam listened, waiting, hoping, and almost believing, that an +answer would be forthcoming. Her son, according to Colonel Tring, had +been killed by a shell—killed and obliterated. She had known that +death must have been painless.</p> + +<p>Fancy answered for Alfred, in a whisper that seemed to come from an +immense distance.</p> + +<p>"I hear you, plain as plain. What? A—<i>shell</i>—! Did +it hurt, Alfie? It didn't. But because of that you were able to come. +You had to come for both our sakes—Mother's and mine. And such a +night! You ain't a bit wet, neither.... Afraid, Alfie...? With you +holding me tight as tight.... Oh, no."</p> + +<p>Susan Yellam heard a trickle of laughter. After that Fancy sighed +twice, and then her small body relaxed.</p> + +<p>She had slipped away.</p> + +<p class="center">* * * * *</p> + +<p>Dawn was stealing into the kitchen when Mrs. Yellam went +downstairs.</p> + +<p>She was still curiously alert in mind, although very weary in body. +After she had closed Fancy's eyes and performed the last services, she +sat down by the bed to think. Dying people, as she knew, might entertain +hallucinations. And Fancy, in health, exercised a lively imagination. +That she should believe that she saw Alfred, so long and ardently +desired, just before breath left her body, was not remarkable in +itself.</p> + +<p>But, speaking for Alfred, repeating, as it were, information, Fancy +had used the word "shell."</p> + +<p>Was this mere coincidence?</p> + +<p>Again, according to Alfred—admitting that he had come +back—his return in the spirit was due not only to solicitude for +his wife, but for his mother. She heard Fancy's feeble voice—"for +both our sakes." And she had spoken of his appearance as "lovely."</p> + +<p>Susan Yellam's strong brain considered these three facts together +with the uncanny behaviour of Solomon, now peacefully asleep in the next +room. As yet, she had shed no tears, but, slowly, the ice about her +heart was melting.</p> + +<p>Her thoughts turned to the form beneath the spotless sheet. It seemed +so cruel that Fancy should be dead. Why was life given to young things +and then taken away? But this gentle creature had not lived in vain. She +had accomplished a task that had baffled Jane Mucklow and herself. Fancy +had drawn Habakkuk from the ale-house, beguiled him from his cronies +with soft words and smiles, made a better man of him. She had made a +better man of Alfred.</p> + +<p>She thought of Alfred and Fancy together.</p> + +<p>Almost she believed that Alfred had come back.</p> + +<p>Hovering upon the brink of this conviction, she heard a wail from the +baby, the pitiful appeal of helplessness to strength. She hurried into +the next room, and took the child into her arms, clutching it to her +bosom.</p> + +<p>Lizzie Alfreda was hers, her very own. Till that moment she had +regarded the tiny creature, not with indifference, but apathetically, a +grandchild by whom she would do her duty. And we know that she had +forced herself to believe that Fancy would live to fend for her own +child. Could so frail a woman have done so properly? If her wish had +been granted, if Death had taken Susan instead of Fancy Yellam, and if +Fancy had risen from her bed an enfeebled, anæmic woman, subject to all +those maladies which wait on physical debility, could she have "fended" +for Lizzie Alfreda?</p> + +<p>The ice was melting fast now.</p> + +<p>She fed Lizzie Alfreda and replaced her in the cradle, but the baby +still wailed a little, staring at Susan Yellam. She took her up—an +action against her principles—soothed her, and immediately the +child stopped crying. Susan crooned to her a lullaby which she thought +she had forgotten, which had served, long ago, when her own Lizzie was +wakeful. And the simple, droning song brought back, vividly, past +pleasures. Age dropped from her; she became for a moment a young mother +anticipating joyously all that "fending" implied. Soon the child +slept.</p> + +<p>And then the tears came, washing away ice, doubt, despair, cleansing +anew a humble and contrite heart.</p> + +<p>From that undiscovered country, whose existence she had obstinately +denied, a traveller had returned.</p> + +<p>After lighting the kitchen fire, Susan Yellam entered the parlour. +She pulled up the blinds and drew the curtains. From her desk, she took +a sharp penknife, and tried its edge upon her thumb. Then, reluctantly, +as if ashamed, she opened the Bible, intending to erase carefully the +last presumptuous entry.</p> + +<p>She glanced at it, and a sharp exclamation escaped her trembling +lips. She put on her spectacles and stared, open-mouthed, at the page in +front of her. "Died, December 28th, 1916," was written not, as she had +supposed, against the name of Susan Yellam, but against the name of +Fancy Yellam.</p> + +<p>And then she remembered that, in her blind haste to record her own +death, she had forgotten to put on her spectacles.</p> + +<p>And the light, at the time, was failing.</p> + +<p>The Light was not failing now.</p> + +<p>She fell upon her knees, bowing her head over the Book.</p> + +<p class="p5">Next Sunday she was in her pew.</p> + +<p class="p5 center">THE END</p> + +<hr class="thick" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">the novels of</span><br /> +MARY ROBERTS RINEHART</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center smaller"><b>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for +Grosset & Dunlap's list.</b></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="u">"K."</span> Illustrated.</p> + +<p>K. LeMoyne, famous surgeon, drops out of the world that has known +him, and goes to live in a little town where beautiful Sidney Page +lives. She is in training to become a nurse. The joys and troubles of +their young love are told with that keen and sympathetic appreciation +which has made the author famous.</p> + +<p class="u">THE MAN IN LOWER TEN.</p> + +<p>Illustrated by Howard Chandler Christy.</p> + +<p>An absorbing detective story woven around the mysterious death of the +"Man in Lower Ten." The strongest elements of Mrs. Rinehart's success +are found in this book.</p> + +<p class="u">WHEN A MAN MARRIES.</p> + +<p>Illustrated by Harrison Fisher and Mayo Bunker.</p> + +<p>A young artist, whose wife had recently divorced him, finds that his +aunt is soon to visit him. The aunt, who contributes to the family +income and who has never seen the wife, knows nothing of the domestic +upheaval. How the young man met the situation is humorously and most +entertainingly told.</p> + +<p><span class="u">THE CIRCULAR STAIRCASE.</span> Illus. by Lester +Ralph.</p> + +<p>The summer occupants of "Sunnyside" find the dead body of Arnold +Armstrong, the son of the owner, on the circular staircase. Following +the murder a bank failure is announced. Around these two events is woven +a plot of absorbing interest.</p> + +<p class="u">THE STREET OF SEVEN STARS.</p> + +<p>Illustrated (Photo Play Edition.)</p> + +<p>Harmony Wells, studying in Vienna to be a great violinist, suddenly +realizes that her money is almost gone. She meets a young ambitious +doctor who offers her chivalry and sympathy, and together with +world-worn Dr. Anna and Jimmie, the waif, they share their love and +slender means.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, +New York</span></p> + +<hr class="thick" /> + +<hr class="thick p4" /> + +<p class="center">BOOTH TARKINGTON'S NOVELS</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center smaller"><b>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for +Grosset & Dunlap's list.</b></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="u">SEVENTEEN.</span> Illustrated by Arthur William +Brown.</p> + +<p>No one but the creator of Penrod could have portrayed the immortal +young people of this story. Its humor is irresistible and reminiscent of +the time when the reader was Seventeen.</p> <p><span +class="u">PENROD.</span> Illustrated by Gordon Grant.</p> + +<p>This is a picture of a boy's heart, full of the lovable, humorous, +tragic things which are locked secrets to most older folks. It is a +finished, exquisite work.</p> + +<p><span class="u">PENROD AND SAM.</span> Illustrated by Worth +Brehm.</p> + +<p>Like "Penrod" and "Seventeen," this book contains some remarkable +phases of real boyhood and some of the best stories of juvenile +prankishness that have ever been written.</p> + +<p><span class="u">THE TURMOIL.</span> Illustrated by C. E. +Chambers.</p> + +<p>Bibbs Sheridan is a dreamy, imaginative youth, who revolts against +his father's plans for him to be a servitor of big business. The love of +a fine girl turns Bibb's life from failure to success.</p> <p><span +class="u">THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA.</span> Frontispiece.</p> + +<p>A story of love and politics,—more especially a picture of a +country editor's life in Indiana, but the charm of the book lies in the +love interest.</p> + +<p><span class="u">THE FLIRT.</span> Illustrated by Clarence F. +Underwood.</p> + +<p>The "Flirt," the younger of two sisters, breaks one girl's +engagement, drives one man to suicide, causes the murder of another, +leads another to lose his fortune, and in the end marries a stupid and +unpromising suitor, leaving the really worthy one to marry her +sister.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><i>Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular +Copyrighted Fiction</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, +New York</span></p> + +<hr class="thick" /> + +<hr class="thick p4" /> + +<p class="center">KATHLEEN NORRIS' STORIES</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center smaller"><b>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for +Grosset & Dunlap's list.</b></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="u">MOTHER.</span> Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.</p> + +<p>This book has a fairy-story touch, counterbalanced by the sturdy +reality of struggle, sacrifice, and resulting peace and power of a +mother's experiences.</p> + +<p class="u">SATURDAY'S CHILD.</p> + +<p>Frontispiece by F. Graham Cootes.</p> + +<p>Out on the Pacific coast a normal girl, obscure and lovely, makes a +quest for happiness. She passes through three stages—poverty, +wealth and service—and works out a creditable salvation.</p> + +<p class="u">THE RICH MRS. BURGOYNE.</p> + +<p>Illustrated by Lucius H. Hitchcock.</p> + +<p>The story of a sensible woman who keeps within her means, refuses to +be swamped by social engagements, lives a normal human life of varied +interests, and has her own romance.</p> + +<p class="u">THE STORY OF JULIA PAGE.</p> + +<p>Frontispiece by Allan Gilbert.</p> + +<p>How Julia Page, reared in rather unpromising surroundings, lifted +herself through sheer determination to a higher plane of life.</p> + +<p class="u">THE HEART OF RACHAEL.</p> + +<p>Frontispiece by Charles E. Chambers.</p> + +<p>Rachael is called upon to solve many problems, and in working out +these, there is shown the beauty and strength of soul of one of +fiction's most appealing characters.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted +Fiction</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, +New York</span></p> + +<hr class="thick" /> + +<hr class="thick p4" /> + +<p class="center">SEWELL FORD'S STORIES</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center smaller"><b>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for +Grosset & Dunlap's list.</b></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="u">SHORTY McCABE</span>. Illustrated by Francis Vaux +Wilson.</p> + +<p>A very humorous story. The hero, an independent and vigorous thinker, +sees life, and tells about it in a very unconventional way.</p> + +<p class="u">SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY.</p> + +<p>Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson.</p> + +<p>Twenty skits, presenting people with their foibles. Sympathy with +human nature and an abounding sense of humor are the requisites for +"side-stepping with Shorty."</p> + +<p class="u">SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB.</p> + +<p>Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson.</p> + +<p>Shorty McCabe reappears with his figures of speech revamped right up +to the minute. He aids in the right distribution of a "conscience fund," +and gives joy to all concerned.</p> + +<p class="u">SHORTY McCABE'S ODD NUMBERS.</p> + +<p>Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson.</p> + +<p>These further chronicles of Shorty McCabe tell of his studio for +physical culture, and of his experiences both on the East side and at +swell yachting parties.</p> + +<p><span class="u">TORCHY</span>. Illus. by Geo. Biehm and Jas. +Montgomery Flagg.</p> + +<p>A red-headed office boy, overflowing with wit and wisdom peculiar to +the youths reared on the sidewalks of New York, tells the story of his +experiences.</p> + +<p><span class="u">TRYING OUT TORCHY</span>. Illustrated by F. Foster +Lincoln.</p> + +<p>Torchy is just as deliriously funny in these stories as he was in the +previous book.</p> + +<p><span class="u">ON WITH TORCHY</span>. Illustrated by F. Foster +Lincoln.</p> + +<p>Torchy falls desperately in love with "the only girl that ever was," +but that young society woman's aunt tries to keep the young people +apart, which brings about many hilariously funny situations.</p> + +<p><span class="u">TORCHY, PRIVATE SEC</span>. Illustrated by F. Foster +Lincoln.</p> + +<p>Torchy rises from the position of office boy to that of secretary for +the Corrugated Iron Company. The story is full of humor and infectious +American slang.</p> + +<p><span class="u">WILT THOU TORCHY</span>. Illus. by F. Snapp and A. W. +Brown.</p> + +<p>Torchy goes on a treasure search expedition to the Florida West +Coast, in company with a group of friends of the Corrugated Trust and +with his friend's aunt, on which trip Torchy wins the aunt's permission +to place an engagement ring on Vee's finger.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, +New York</span></p> + +<hr class="thick" /> + +<hr class="thick p4" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">the novels of</span><br /> WINSTON +CHURCHILL</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="u">THE INSIDE OF THE CUP</span>. Illustrated by Howard +Giles.</p> + +<p>The Reverend John Hodder is called to a fashionable church in a +middle-western city. He knows little of modern problems and in his +theology is as orthodox as the rich men who control his church could +desire. But the facts of modern life are thrust upon him; an awakening +follows and in the end he works out a solution.</p> + +<p><span class="u">A FAR COUNTRY</span>. Illustrated by Herman +Pfeifer.</p> + +<p>This novel is concerned with big problems of the day. As <i>The +Inside of the Cup</i> gets down to the essentials in its discussion of +religion, so <i>A Far Country</i> deals in a story that is intense and +dramatic, with other vital issues confronting the twentieth century.</p> + +<p><span class="u">A MODERN CHRONICLE</span>. Illustrated by J. H. +Gardner Soper.</p> + +<p>This, Mr. Churchill's first great presentation of the Eternal +Feminine, is throughout a profound study of a fascinating young American +woman. It is frankly a modern love story.</p> + +<p><span class="u">MR. CREWE'S CAREER</span>. Illus. by A. I. Keller and +Kinneys.</p> + +<p>A new England state is under the political domination of a railway +and Mr. Crewe, a millionaire, seizes a moment when the cause of the +people is being espoused by an ardent young attorney, to further his own +interest in a political way. The daughter of the railway president plays +no small part in the situation.</p> + +<p><span class="u">THE CROSSING</span>. Illustrated by S. Adamson and L. +Baylis.</p> + +<p>Describing the battle of Fort Moultrie, the blazing of the Kentucky +wilderness, the expedition of Clark and his handful of followers in +Illinois, the beginning of civilization along the Ohio and Mississippi, +and the treasonable schemes against Washington.</p> + +<p><span class="u">CONISTON</span>. Illustrated by Florence Scovel +Shinn.</p> + +<p>A deft blending of love and politics. A New Englander is the hero, a +crude man who rose to political prominence by his own powers, and then +surrendered all for the love of a woman.</p> + +<p><span class="u">THE CELEBRITY</span>. An episode.</p> + +<p>An inimitable bit of comedy describing an interchange of +personalities between a celebrated author and a bicycle salesman. It is +the purest, keenest fun—and is American to the core.</p> + +<p><span class="u">THE CRISIS</span>. Illustrated with scenes from the +Photo-Play.</p> + +<p>A book that presents the great crisis in our national life with +splendid power and with a sympathy, a sincerity, and a patriotism that +are inspiring.</p> + +<p><span class="u">RICHARD CARVEL</span>. Illustrated by Malcolm +Frazer.</p> + +<p>An historical novel which gives a real and vivid picture of Colonial +times, and is good, clean, spirited reading in all its phases and +interesting throughout.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, +New York</span></p> + +<hr class="thick" /> + +<hr class="thick p4" /> + +<p class="center">JACK LONDON'S NOVELS</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center smaller"><b>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for +Grosset & Dunlap's list.</b></p> + +<hr /> <p><span class="u">JOHN BARLEYCORN</span>. Illustrated by H. T. +Dunn.</p> + +<p>This remarkable book is a record of the author's own amazing +experiences. This big, brawny world rover, who has been acquainted with +alcohol from boyhood, comes out boldly against John Barleycorn. It is a +string of exciting adventures, yet it forcefully conveys an unforgetable +idea and makes a typical Jack London book.</p> + +<p><span class="u">THE VALLEY OF THE MOON</span>. Frontispiece by George +Harper.</p> + +<p>The story opens in the city slums where Billy Roberts, teamster and +ex-prize fighter, and Saxon Brown, laundry worker, meet and love and +marry. They tramp from one end of California to the other, and in the +Valley of the Moon find the farm paradise that is to be their +salvation.</p> + +<p><span class="u">BURNING DAYLIGHT</span>. Four illustrations.</p> + +<p>The story of an adventurer who went to Alaska and laid the +foundations of his fortune before the gold hunters arrived. Bringing his +fortunes to the States he is cheated out of it by a crowd of money +kings, and recovers it only at the muzzle of his gun. He then starts out +as a merciless exploiter on his own account. Finally he takes to +drinking and becomes a picture of degeneration. About this time he falls +in love with his stenographer and wins her heart but not her hand and +then—but read the story!</p> + +<p><span class="u">A SON OF THE SUN</span>. Illustrated by A. O. Fischer +and C. W. Ashley.</p> + +<p>David Grief was once a light-haired, blue-eyed youth who came from +England to the South Seas in search of adventure. Tanned like a native +and as lithe as a tiger, he became a real son of the sun. The life +appealed to him and he remained and became very wealthy.</p> + +<p><span class="u">THE CALL OF THE WILD</span>. Illustrations by Philip +R. Goodwin and Charles Livingston Bull. Decorations by Charles E. +Hooper.</p> + +<p>A book of dog adventures as exciting as any man's exploits could be. +Here is excitement to stir the blood and here is picturesque color to +transport the reader to primitive scenes.</p> + +<p><span class="u">THE SEA WOLF</span>. Illustrated by W. J. +Aylward.</p> + +<p>Told by a man whom Fate suddenly swings from his fastidious life into +the power of the brutal captain of a sealing schooner. A novel of +adventure warmed by a beautiful love episode that every reader will hail +with delight.</p> + +<p><span class="u">WHITE FANG</span>. Illustrated by Charles Livingston +Bull.</p> + +<p>"White Fang" is part dog, part wolf and all brute, living in the +frozen north; he gradually comes under the spell of man's companionship, +and surrenders all at the last in a fight with a bull dog. Thereafter he +is man's loving slave.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, +New York</span></p> + +<hr class="thick" /> + +<hr class="thick p4" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">novels of frontier life +by</span><br /> WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE<br /> <span +class="smcap">handsomely bound in cloth. illustrated.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center smaller"><b>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for +Grosset & Dunlap's list.</b></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="u">MAVERICKS.</p> + +<p>A tale of the western frontier, where the "rustler," whose +depredations are so keenly resented by the early settlers of the range, +abounds. One of the sweetest love stories ever told.</p> + +<p class="u">A TEXAS RANGER.</p> + +<p>How a member of the most dauntless border police force carried law +into the mesquit, saved the life of an innocent man after a series of +thrilling adventures, followed a fugitive to Wyoming, and then passed +through deadly peril to ultimate happiness.</p> + +<p class="u">WYOMING.</p> + +<p>In this vivid story of the outdoor West the author has captured the +breezy charm of "cattleland," and brings out the turbid life of the +frontier with all its engaging dash and vigor.</p> + +<p class="u">RIDGWAY OF MONTANA.</p> + +<p>The scene is laid in the mining centers of Montana, where politics +and mining industries are the religion of the country. The political +contest, the love scene, and the fine character drawing give this story +great strength and charm.</p> + +<p class="u">BUCKY O'CONNOR.</p> + +<p>Every chapter teems with wholesome, stirring adventures, replete with +the dashing spirit of the border, told with dramatic dash and absorbing +fascination of style and plot.</p> + +<p class="u">CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT.</p> + +<p>A story of Arizona; of swift-riding men and daring outlaws; of a +bitter feud between cattle-men and sheep-herders. The heroine is a most +unusual woman and her love story reaches a culmination that is fittingly +characteristic of the great free West.</p> + +<p class="u">BRAND BLOTTERS.</p> + +<p>A story of the Cattle Range. This story brings out the turbid life of +the frontier, with all its engaging dash and vigor, with a charming love +interest running through its 320 pages.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, +New York</span></p> + +<hr class="thick" /> + +<hr class="thick p4" /> + +<p class="center">ZANE GREY'S NOVELS</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center smaller"><b>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for +Grosset & Dunlap's list.</b></p> + +<hr /> <p class="u">THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS</p> + +<p>A New York society girl buys a ranch which becomes the center of +frontier warfare. Her loyal superintendent rescues her when she is +captured by bandits. A surprising climax brings the story to a +delightful close.</p> + +<p class="u">THE RAINBOW TRAIL</p> + +<p>The story of a young clergyman who becomes a wanderer in the great +western uplands—until at last love and faith awake.</p> + +<p class="u">DESERT GOLD</p> + +<p>The story describes the recent uprising along the border, and ends +with the finding of the gold which two prospectors had willed to the +girl who is the story's heroine.</p> + +<p class="u">RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE</p> + +<p>A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when Mormon +authority ruled. The prosecution of Jane Withersteen is the theme of the +story.</p> + +<p class="u">THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN</p> + +<p>This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo +Jones, known as the preserver of the American bison, across the Arizona +desert and of a hunt in "that wonderful country of deep canons and giant +pines."</p> + +<p class="u">THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT</p> + +<p>A lovely girl, who has been reared among Mormons, learns to love a +young New Englander. The Mormon religion, however, demands that the girl +shall become the second wife of one of the Mormons—Well, that's +the problem of this great story.</p> + +<p class="u">THE SHORT STOP</p> + +<p>The young hero, tiring of his factory grind, starts out to win fame +and fortune as a professional ball player. His hard knocks at the start +are followed by such success as clean sportsmanship, courage and honesty +ought to win.</p> + +<p class="u">BETTY ZANE</p> + +<p>This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beautiful +young sister of old Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers.</p> + +<p class="u">THE LONE STAR RANGER</p> + +<p>After killing a man in self defense, Buck Duane becomes an outlaw +along the Texas border. In a camp on the Mexican side of the river, he +finds a young girl held prisoner, and in attempting to rescue her, +brings down upon himself the wrath of her captors and henceforth is +hunted on one side by honest men, on the other by outlaws.</p> + +<p class="u">THE BORDER LEGION</p> + +<p>Joan Randle, in a spirit of anger, sent Jim Cleve out to a lawless +Western mining camp, to prove his mettle. Then realizing that she loved +him—she followed him out. On her way, she is captured by a bandit +band, and trouble begins when she shoots Kells, the leader—and +nurses him to health again. Here enters another romance—when Joan, +disguised as an outlaw, observes Jim, in the throes of dissipation. A +gold strike, a thrilling robbery—gambling and gun play carry you +along breathlessly.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="u">THE LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS,</span><br /> By Helen +Cody Wetmore and Zane Grey</p> + +<p>The life story of Colonel William F. Cody, "Buffalo Bill," as told by +his sister and Zane Grey. It begins with his boyhood in Iowa and his +first encounter with an Indian. We see "Bill" as a pony express rider, +then near Fort Sumter as Chief of the Scouts, and later engaged in the +most dangerous Indian campaigns. There is also a very interesting +account of the travels of "The Wild West" Show. No character in public +life makes a stronger appeal to the imagination of America than "Buffalo +Bill," whose daring and bravery made him famous.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, +New York</span></p> + +<hr class="thick" /> + +<hr class="thick p4" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">stories of rare charm by</span><br +/> GENE STRATTON-PORTER</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center smaller"><b>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for +Grosset & Dunlap's list.</b></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="u">MICHAEL O'HALLORAN</span>. Illustrated by Frances +Rogers.</p> + +<p>Michael is a quick-witted little Irish newsboy, living in Northern +Indiana. He adopts a deserted little girl, a cripple. He also assumes +the responsibility of leading the entire rural community upward and +onward.</p> + +<p><span class="u">LADDIE</span>. Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer.</p> + +<p>This is a bright, cheery tale with the scenes laid in Indiana. The +story is told by Little Sister, the youngest member of a large family, +but it is concerned not so much with childish doings as with the love +affairs of older members of the family. Chief among them is that of +Laddie and the Princess, an English girl who has come to live in the +neighborhood and about whose family there hangs a mystery.</p> + +<p><span class="u">THE HARVESTER</span>. Illustrated by W. L. +Jacobs.</p> + +<p>"The Harvester," is a man of the woods and fields, and if the book +had nothing in it but the splendid figure of this man it would be +notable. But when the Girl comes to his "Medicine Woods," there begins a +romance of the rarest idyllic quality.</p> + +<p><span class="u">FRECKLES</span>. Illustrated.</p> + +<p>Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in which +he takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the great +Limberlost Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets him succumbs to +the charm of his engaging personality; and his love-story with "The +Angel" are full of real sentiment.</p> + +<p><span class="u">A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST</span>. Illustrated.</p> + +<p>The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant, loveable type +of the self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and kindness +towards all things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the sheer beauty of +her soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from barren and +unpromising surroundings those rewards of high courage.</p> + +<p><span class="u">AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW</span>. Illustrations in +colors.</p> + +<p>The scene of this charming love story is laid in Central Indiana. The +story is one of devoted friendship, and tender self-sacrificing love. +The novel is brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature, and +its pathos and tender sentiment will endear it to all.</p> + +<p><span class="u">THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL</span>. Profusely +illustrated.</p> + +<p>A love idea of the Cardinal bird and his mate, told with delicacy and +humor.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, +New York</span></p> + +<hr class="thick" /> + +<hr class="thick p4" /> + +<p class="center">MYRTLE REED'S NOVELS</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center smaller"><b>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for +Grosset & Dunlap's list.</b></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="u">LAVENDER AND OLD LACE.</p> + +<p>A charming story of a quaint corner of New England, where bygone +romance finds a modern parallel. The story centers round the coming of +love to the young people on the staff of a newspaper—and it is one +of the prettiest, sweetest and quaintest of old-fashioned love +stories.</p> + +<p class="u">MASTER OF THE VINEYARD.</p> + +<p>A pathetic love story of a young girl, Rosemary. The teacher of the +country school, who is also master of the vineyard, comes to know her +through her desire for books. She is happy in his love till another +woman comes into his life. But happiness and emancipation from her many +trials come to Rosemary at last. The book has a touch of humor and +pathos that will appeal to every reader.</p> + +<p class="u">OLD ROSE AND SILVER.</p> + +<p>A love story,—sentimental and humorous,—with the plot +subordinate to the character delineation of its quaint people and to the +exquisite descriptions of picturesque spots and of lovely, old, rare +treasures.</p> + +<p class="u">A WEAVER OF DREAMS.</p> + +<p>This story tells of the love-affairs of three young people, with an +old-fashioned romance in the background. A tiny dog plays an important +role in serving as a foil for the heroine's talking ingeniousness. There +is poetry, as well as tenderness and charm, in this tale of a weaver of +dreams.</p> + +<p class="u">A SPINNER IN THE SUN.</p> + +<p>An old-fashioned love story, of a veiled lady who lives in solitude +and whose features her neighbors have never seen. There is a mystery at +the heart of the book that throws over it the glamour of romance.</p> + +<p class="u">THE MASTER'S VIOLIN.</p> + +<p>A love story in a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old German +virtuoso consents to take for his pupil a handsome youth who proves to +have an aptitude for technique, but not the soul of an artist. The youth +cannot express the love, the passion and the tragedies of life as can +the master. But a girl comes into his life, and through his passionate +love for her, he learns the lessons that life has to give—and his +soul awakes.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, +New York</span></p> + +<hr class="thick" /> + +<p class="p4"></p> + +<div class="tnote"> <h3>Transcriber's Note:</h3> + +<p>Punctuation has been made consistent.</p> + +<p>Dialect, alternate and obsolete +spellings were not changed. Words ending in '-ise' and '-sing' instead +of the more usual '-ize' and '-zing' were not changed, e.g. realise +instead of realize.</p> +<p>The remaining changes are indicated by +dotted lines under the text. Scroll the mouse over the word and the +original text will <ins title="Original reads 'apprear'"> +appear</ins>.</p> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUL OF SUSAN YELLAM***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 36428-h.txt or 36428-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/4/2/36428">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/4/2/36428</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a> + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** +</pre> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/36428-h/images/logo.png b/36428-h/images/logo.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e50013e --- /dev/null +++ b/36428-h/images/logo.png diff --git a/36428.txt b/36428.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bdcf6cd --- /dev/null +++ b/36428.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11143 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Soul of Susan Yellam, by Horace Annesley +Vachell + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Soul of Susan Yellam + + +Author: Horace Annesley Vachell + + + +Release Date: June 14, 2011 [eBook #36428] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUL OF SUSAN YELLAM*** + + +E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Carol Brown, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +THE SOUL OF SUSAN YELLAM + +by + +HORACE ANNESLEY VACHELL + +Author of +Some Happenings, Quinneys, +Blinds Down, Loot, etc. + + + + + + + +[Illustration: printer's decoration] + +New York +Grosset & Dunlap +Publishers + +Copyright, 1918, +By George H. Doran Company + +Printed in the United States of America + + + + + TO THE MEMORY OF + MY SON + RICHARD TANFIELD VACHELL + CAPTAIN, FIFTH FUSILIERS + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I MOTHER AND SON 11 + + II FANCY BROOMFIELD 27 + + III INTRODUCING MRS. MUCKLOW 42 + + IV LE PAYS DU TENDRE 57 + + V UNCLE 70 + + VI FIRST IMPRESSIONS 86 + + VII SECOND IMPRESSIONS 101 + + VIII RECRUITING 116 + + IX PARSON'S METHODS 130 + + X FANCY'S ORDEAL 144 + + XI THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS 160 + + XII THE EMPTY PEW 174 + + XIII FANCY CONSULTS THE CARDS 190 + + XIV HYMENEAL 203 + + XV LEANNESS OF SOUL 217 + + XVI SAINT WILLUM 234 + + XVII FOOL-WISDOM 248 + + XVIII MISSING! 263 + + XIX SUSPENSE 279 + + XX THE TRAVELLER RETURNS 294 + + + + +THE SOUL OF SUSAN YELLAM + + + + +THE +SOUL OF SUSAN YELLAM + + + + +CHAPTER I + +MOTHER AND SON + + +The village church at Nether-Applewhite has been described as an +interesting chapter in ecclesiastical architecture. It stands a little +apart from the cottages upon a hill which presents something of the +appearance of a tumulus. Part of the church is Norman, but to the +uninstructed the outside has been mellowed by time and weather into a +charming homogeneity. It was embellished early in the eighteenth century +by the addition of a brick tower. The inside is likely to challenge even +the uncritical eye. The transept is as long as the nave, and two large +galleries arrest attention in the west end. Overlooking the chancel is +the Squire's pew, a sort of royal opera-box, provided with chairs, a +table, and a fireplace, not to mention a private entrance. Opposite to +this, across the chancel, stands a three-decker pulpit of +seventeenth-century woodwork, with a fine hexagonal canopy. On the north +side of the steps to the chancel is a mutilated fifteenth-century +screen. + +Squire and parson can see every member of the congregation. + +There are large pews in nave and transept occupied by the gentry and +farmers, and many small pews which--although the seats in the church are +spoken of as "free"--have been used habitually by certain cottagers. One +of these pews in the nave was known as the Yellam pew. Sunday after +Sunday, rain or shine, Susan Yellam sat bolt upright in her pew. Her +son, Alfred, sat beside her. Mother and son were never guilty of missing +a response, or of looking behind them, or of failing to contribute +something in copper to the offertory plate. If a stranger happened to be +conducting the service, and if he was so lost to a sense of duty as to +display unseemly haste, Mrs. Yellam's voice might be heard, loud and +clear, setting the proper pace. At the end of every prayer, her "Amen" +came to be accepted, even by the young and thoughtless, as a grace and +benediction. Always she wore decent black, as became a woman who had +buried--in the churchyard outside--a husband and three children. But her +Easter bonnet had a touch of mauve in it. + +Her clothes were not the least part of a tremendous personality. +Children believed that she went to bed in her black gown. Authority +exuded from every pore of her skin. Probably Boadicea was cast in just +such a generous mould. She possessed, as will be seen presently, that +British cocksureness which so endears us to foreigners. Her particular +views upon religion, politics, ethics and agriculture (she tended her +own garden admirably)--views constantly aired for the benefit of her +neighbours--had become indurated by use. They had stood, as she informed +all and sundry, the test of time and experience. The Parson, Mr. Hamlin, +observed of her that she was temperamentally incapable of detecting the +defects of her great qualities. She supported Squire and Parson in all +that they said or did, and after the gracious lady of the manor was the +most respected woman in Nether-Applewhite. + +Upon a certain Sunday in June, 1914, Susan Yellam sat as usual in her +pew. Across the aisle, higher up, sat the Squire's servants, and behind +them the Parson's three maids. Before the service began, Mrs. Yellam +noticed that one of the maids was a stranger and not country-bred. The +girl flaunted no finery, but the cut of her modest skirt and jacket +proclaimed her urban. Mrs. Yellam guessed that this was Mr. Hamlin's new +parlourmaid from Old Sarum. She might be described as pretty, but +"peaky" and "spindling." The Squire preached eugenics, in and out of +season, and upon the subject of young females as potential mothers Mrs. +Yellam saw eye to eye with that genial autocrat. However, she consoled +herself with the reflection that Nether-Applewhite air and good plain +food would accomplish a much needed change. She hoped that the girl +would not smirk or giggle if old Captain Davenant read the lessons, an +infallible test in propriety for strangers. And she wondered vaguely +what Alfred would think of her. For a season, Alfred had "walked out" +with this young woman's predecessor, a bouncing, red-cheeked lass of the +village. Nothing had come of such perambulations. Alfred was what the +French term "un celebataire endurci." And he was made extremely +comfortable at home. But he had passed his thirtieth year, and of late +his mother had hinted discreetly that her cottage, larger than most, +could accommodate three persons--or more. + +Her thoughts were distracted from the new parlourmaid by the arrival of +the Squire and his party. All eyes in the church were concentrated upon +the Squire's only son, Lionel, who brought with him his young wife, +Joyce, the daughter of Mr. Hamlin. Mrs. Yellam knew that this had been a +love-match, brought to a happy issue against opposition. It was known, +also, that Master Lionel had left his regiment, the Rifle Brigade, and +was installed as his sire's land agent. Tongues had wagged freely +concerning a young soldier's competence for such a position. But Mrs. +Yellam had firm faith in the lords of the soil. Master Lionel, in her +opinion, had done the real right thing, both in his choice of a wife and +of a calling. Perhaps to her the call of the land sounded a more clarion +note than any other. + +Mr. Hamlin and the choir filed in. The congregation rose. In the days of +Mr. Hamlin's predecessor, nobody budged from his comfortable seat when +the parson bustled out of the vestry. Mr. Hamlin had changed all that. +He put down billing and cooing in the galleries, and the sucking of +peppermints. At first he was regarded with hostile eyes as an innovator, +but gradually it became known that he had restored forms and ceremonies +which presented definite meaning to the instructed. Villagers love forms +and ceremonies when they are discreetly led to understand them. + +Old Captain Davenant read the lessons, and the new parlourmaid emerged +triumphant from the ordeal. Mrs. Yellam noticed, too, that she joined in +the responses, and sang the hymns in a modestly restrained, clear, +musical voice. Later, she listened attentively to the sermon. So far, so +good. At the same time, it became obvious to the mother that her son, +even more than herself, was impressed by the deportment and behaviour of +this pretty stranger. During the psalms Alfred's eyes strayed too often +across the narrow aisle, and at sounds of a soft, beguiling voice he +opened his mouth and left it open for a significant space of time. + +After church, Mrs. Yellam walked home by herself, exchanging sober +greetings with her neighbours. Alfred lingered in the churchyard, as was +his custom, because, being a carrier, he captured a little extra trade +thereby. Also, although a confirmed bachelor, he liked to bandy +pleasantries with the women, young and old, who were indeed his +principal customers. + +Mrs. Yellam, having curtsied respectfully to the Squire and his lady, +moved majestically along the village street. As she passed the baker's a +savoury odour of baked meats assailed her nostrils. It is said that +smell affects the memory potently. So long as she could remember, Susan +Yellam had connected this smell of baked meat with Divine Service. As a +child she had fetched her Sunday dinner from the grandfather of the +present baker, and, always, as a reward, her mother had given her a +large lollipop. After she married, her Sunday dinner was cooked for her +in the same oven and carried to her cottage by a small maid, who, then +and there, received and consumed an immense bull's-eye. And it seemed to +Mrs. Yellam a very fitting and proper thing that on Sunday the flesh +should be as adequately nourished as the spirit. Invariably, also, on +passing the baker's, she experienced a mournful pleasure in recalling +her late husband's remarkable appetite. Alfred, as a trencherman, was no +degenerate son of such a sire. + +When she reached the bend of the road, which skirts the placid Avon, she +saw her cottage and smiled pleasantly. It was thatched, and on that +account beloved by elderly spinsters who drew in water-colour, and +frowned upon by sanitary inspectors. The thatch, a masterpiece of +craftsmanship, surmounted whitewashed walls held together by stout oak +beams black as the Ace of Spades. Generations of Yellams had lived and +died in this cottage. Some might have lived longer--so said the sanitary +inspectors--if the Avon, inconsiderate stream, had never overflowed its +banks, making thereby an island of the cottage and its garden. + +She entered her house, and walked into the parlour, rarely used. Upon a +round table near the window was an immense family Bible. Mrs. Yellam +placed her prayer-book beside it, and turned to go into the kitchen, +which served as a living-room for herself and her son. Suddenly she +paused, went back to the table, and opened the Bible. It had belonged to +Alfred's great-grandfather. Upon a fly-leaf were many names and +dates--births, marriages and deaths. Her eyes lingered upon Alfred's +name. + +Alfred Habakkuk Yellam, born November 19th, 1883. + +Alfred's father had objected to the name Habakkuk. But Alfred's mother +had her way. A favourite brother had been so christened. + +She closed the Book. Yes; it was fully time that Alfred should marry. +She wondered what name would be inscribed beside his. + +At the kitchen door she found waiting a small Hebe carrying a beef-steak +pudding in a basin done up in a white napkin. Mrs. Yellam took the +pudding from the child, placed it in the oven, after removing the +napkin, and said wonderingly: + +"Whatever be you waiting for?" + +Hebe grinned. Young children love old jokes. Mrs. Yellam took from a +shelf a large green bottle, shook it, and produced the expected +bull's-eye. Hebe opened wide her mouth. Mrs. Yellam popped in the sweet. +Hebe raced away to her own dinner. Mrs. Yellam, holding the bottle in +her hand, stood still for a minute, watching the diminutive, diminishing +figure till it was lost to sight. Then she turned and contemplated her +garden smiling beneath a June sun. The midsummer heat still held +deliciously the freshness of spring. The pervasive charm of the glorious +month was at its highest pitch. And this stout, red-cheeked woman, +nearing her sixtieth year, was subtly conscious of this, although +incapable of putting thoughts into words. But dominating her sense of +the beauty of things there remained an even more immeasurable +satisfaction common to all women when they survey their belongings, +great or small, a fundamental pride in possession which Tory statesmen, +denying the vote to these supermen, have failed to take into wise +account. Women are basically conservative, even the humblest of them. +They cling to property, to tradition; they love the deep lanes, the very +ruts along which they move; they clutch to their bosoms all that is +truly theirs, beginning, of course, with their own children. + +At this moment, the Squire of the parish, Sir Geoffrey Pomfret, happened +to be surveying his domain as seen from his own front door. And he had +less reason behind a pride in great possession than Susan Yellam, +inasmuch as his broad acres were an inheritance. Every vegetable and +flower in the Yellam garden had been planted and tended by the +proprietress. They were perfect in her eyes because of this. She had +precisely the same feeling about Alfred, her son, whom she perceived +leisurely approaching the comfortable home that she had made for him. + +She went indoors and busied herself with preparations for the most +substantial meal of the week. + +Alfred quickened his pace as he approached the small stable which held +his two serviceable horses and the van which plied regularly between +Nether-Applewhite and Old Sarum. He, too, on entering the stable, paused +to survey his possessions, but not with the same complacency which might +have been seen upon his mother's face. Alfred loved his horses, and his +roomy van balked dearer to him than he would have cared to admit, +certainly as dear as the full-length Reynolds portrait in the +dining-room of Pomfret Court was to the Squire. Both Sir Geoffrey and he +knew that portrait and van must be sacrificed upon the altar of +necessity. Sir Geoffrey needed twenty thousand pounds to reduce a +crippling mortgage; Alfred, if he intended to keep and improve a good +business, must advance with the times to the rattle of a motor. And, of +late, whenever his mind had grappled with this insistent problem, he had +noticed that the old van creaked more than usual, as if in protest. + +Alfred fed his horses, patted their shining necks, and went into the +cottage to "clean up." Splashing mightily, he smelt the beef-and-kidney +pudding. Five minutes afterwards, Mrs. Yellam said grace. Mother and son +ate in silence till the meal was nearly over. Then Mrs. Yellam asked a +question: + +"What be the name, Alferd, o' the new maid over to Vicarage?" + +"Fancy Broomfield." + +"Fancy! Wherever did she come by such a finical name as that?" + +"I don't know, Mother." + +Mrs. Yellam continued, in a slightly aggressive tone: + +"I never was one to hold with queer onChristian names. It's silly, too, +to call girls by names o' flowers. Look at Lily Pavey!" + +"I never do," affirmed Alfred. + +"Dark-complected, and no better than she should be. An' that there Rose +Mucklow--! More like a gert carrot, seemin'ly." + +Alfred, having enjoyed "advantages," did not use the dialect of +Wiltshire, seldom heard now except from the elderly villagers. As became +a carrier accustomed to pick his way through country lanes, he seldom +argued with his mother, partly because he knew that her tongue was +sharper than his, partly, also, because he travelled, mentally, along +lines of less resistance. On this occasion, he said curtly: + +"I like Fancy." + +"The name or the maid?" asked his mother quickly. + +"Both. The name seems to match the maid." + +"Why, Alferd, whatever do 'ee know about her?" + +"I brought her from Salisbury. A rare talker; she sat beside me, she +did, and talked free and pleasant, as--as a throstle sings." + +His mother eyed him sharply. Alfred, as a rule, disdained flowers of +speech. She proceeded more warily: + +"If so be as you know all about her, let's hear what's to tell. I'll say +this, she behaves herself in church." + +This commendation loosened Alfred's tongue, as was intended. Very +leisurely, between immense mouthfuls of bread and cheese, he told an +artless tale. Fancy, it appeared, was the youngest daughter of a small +farrier in Salisbury, and the first of three daughters to take service. +Her father enjoyed poor health. At this Mrs. Yellam sniffed. She held +strong opinions, like the Squire, upon eugenics. If put to it, she might +have admitted that ill-health was apportioned by Providence to the less +deserving. Dissenters, in her experience, suffered more from mysterious +ailments than Church-people. Draughty, jerry-built Chapels were +handicraft of Satan. Alfred continued. Fancy had chosen a country place, +because she was none too robust. + +"Peaky and spindlin'," remarked Mrs. Yellam. "Is her mother alive?" + +"The pore soul gave up the ghost when Fancy was born." + +"That's very bad, Alferd." + +Alfred, no pessimist, answered cheerfully: + +"Might have been worse, Mother." + +"Eh?" + +Alfred grinned. + +"She might have died before Fancy was born, and then there'd be one +pretty maid the less in Nether-Applewhite to-day." + +"Gracious! She do seem to find favour with 'ee. 'Tis wicked to wager +money on't, but I'll lay a pound o' good butter, Alferd, that you +disremember Mr. Hamlin's text this marning." + +"You'd win that bet, Mother. I'm bothered and moithered to death." + +"About this white-faced maid, Alferd?" + +"About my old van. About the horses, too. I'm far-seeing, Mother. Get +that from you, I reckon. Yesterday, in Salisbury, I did take upon myself +the very hateful job of looking at a motor-'bus." + +Mrs. Yellam sighed. Fancy flew out of her capacious mind. + +"What be us coming to, Alferd!" + +"I don't know. But I'm always one to make a guess. My son, maybe, 'll be +a carrier, like his father and granfer before him; likely as not he'll +want to sell the motor-'bus and buy a flying-machine. We all march on +and on." + +"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" + +Mrs. Yellam gazed mournfully at her son. As a Christian soldier she +believed devoutly in "marching on," but such marching implied a +leisurely procession, not excess speed. She hated motors, because they +rushed by, covering the foot-passengers with dust or mud according to +the season. She had, too, an inchoate aversion to all machinery, because +it minimised and mocked at human labour, which she respected +inordinately. Machinery had driven able-bodied men overseas to return no +more. She had seen certain cunning handicrafts wither and die. For +instance, how many thatchers were left? Machinery, so she believed, had +raised the cost of living; machinery--the ubiquitous locomotive--linked +together disastrously town and country, filling the minds of maids with +what she called "flummery" and covering their bodies with cheap finery. +Machinery, had you probed her heart to its depths, manufactured free +thought, and everything else that lured God-fearing persons from the old +ways. It was, indeed, hateful to think of her Alfred driving a +motor-'bus. + +She exclaimed impulsively: + +"Alferd, don't 'ee sell the horses and van." + +Alfred scratched his head, looking sheepishly at his mother. He +understood her very well, and shared most of her cut-and-dried opinions, +cherishing even her admonitions. All his life he had had good reason to +respect and admire her sterling common sense, less rare amongst +Arcadians than is generally supposed. He replied uneasily: + +"That means losing good business, Mother. Folks want more and more +nowadays, and they want it in a hurry." + +"Leave well alone, Alferd." + +"Suppose well can't be left alone? I ain't one to complain; I'm grateful +to the Lord for His blessings, but if another likely young feller +started a motor-'bus, he'd down-scramble me." + +"I allow you knows best about that." + +She sighed again. He could see that she was profoundly affected. He went +on very slowly, thinking as he spoke: + +"And there's others.... You rub it well into me that this cottage'd hold +more than a man and his mother. If I bring the others here, I must think +of them. I'd like to do handsomely by them as come after us. Mother," +his voice trembled a little, "it's more to me than you think for, but +the old van must go. Our folk won't stay homealong. I'll do a big +business carrying people instead of parcels." + +Mrs. Yellam rose. + +"If you give me they others, Alferd, I'll put up with this wondersome +change. God's ways be our ways, if we look humbly into 'em. I did hear +tell t'other day of a motor-hearse. Don't 'ee carry me to my grave in +one!" + +Alfred solemnly reassured her, and began to fill his pipe. + +As a rule, he took a Sunday nap after dinner, whilst his mother was +washing up. At three, he would stroll along the village street, +combining business with pleasure, picking up gossip and booking orders +for the coming week. Later, he might walk in the park with a companion, +not always of the opposite sex. He liked a wit-sharpening talk with a +man, sensible, perhaps, that his own wits had not too sharp an edge to +them. The women of the village were unanimous in pronouncing him a true +Yellam. All the men of his family were good to look on--stoutly-built +fellows, broad-sterned and broad-shouldered, slow of speech and +movement, slow, too, to wrath, patient under adversity and modest under +prosperity, solid and stolid, kind to animals and children, and racy of +the soil. + +Upon this particular Sunday, Alfred took the high-road earlier than +usual. Fate, rather than inclination, directed his steps towards the +Vicarage. For the moment his van and a pair of horses filled his mind. +Back of these lay a pleasant wish to pass the time of day with Fancy +Broomfield. No doubt she was feeling very homesick. He wondered what she +would have to say upon the subject of motor-'buses. He divined in her a +vein of sentiment, which appealed to him the more strongly because it +was absent in the red-cheeked, bouncing girl whom he had considered, +temporarily, as a future wife. From her he had escaped--thank the Lord! + +Alfred reached the village in five minutes. It was a source of pride to +his mother and himself that their cottage was isolated. Such isolation +carried with it a certain distinction, an immunity from derisive comment +upon the Monday's washing, and the shrill voices of scolding wives, and +the howling of babies. The Yellams' cottage always smelled sweet. There +were no neighbours to pop in at unseasonable hours to borrow +unconsidered trifles which they had no intention of returning. + +Nether-Applewhite was regarded by the Squire as a model village, +delightfully old-fashioned in appearance but brought up-to-date by a +judicious expenditure of time and money. The passing traveller admired +the width of the main street which meandered north and south, following +the course of the Avon. Some of the cottages had been built in the +sixteenth century, or, possibly, at an even earlier date. Some were, as +obviously, modern, but not, on that account, unpleasing to the more +critical, for harmony had been aimed at and achieved. The high note--_la +note qui chante_--was the curious thatching of the roofs, some of them +miracles of cunning craftsmanship. The tiny gardens blazed with colour, +because the lady of the manor loved flowers and bestowed handsome +prizes, each year, upon the most successful of many competitors. Stocks, +red-hot-pokers, larkspur, polyanthus, peonies and dahlias caught the eye +which was lured back to the humbler beauties of mignonette, +forget-me-not, love-in-idleness, and a generous profusion of roses. + +Few villagers were abroad, but Alfred Yellam bagged a brace of orders +and exchanged banter with half-a-dozen young men loafing near the main +bridge across the Avon. Amongst these happened to be a soldier, looking +very smart in a kilt and white spats. Soldiers were not too highly +esteemed in Nether-Applewhite. This particular specimen was the son of a +notorious poacher, and till now regarded by the fathers of the hamlet as +a ne'er-do-well. To-day, he carried himself handsomely, turning a bold, +bronzed face upon all beholders. He spoke civilly to Alfred and enquired +after his mother. He had just come back from India with his regiment, +and was entertaining an appreciative audience with Eastern tales spiced +like the breezes that blow from Ceylon. + +Alfred listened to him, marvelling at the change in the man. Presently, +he essayed a mild jest: + +"You were a rare runner after the petticoats, Harry, but I never thought +you'd live to wear 'em." + +Bucolic laughter greeted this sally. Harry laughed as gaily as the +others. + +"You may come to it, Alfred Yellam, if what I hear tell of comes true." + +"And whatever might that be, Harry?" + +"War, Alfred, war such as you fellers never dreamed of." + +"What a tale!" + +Harry surveyed the group critically: + +"A bit o' drill'd make men o' some of 'ee." He broke into a lusty +barrack-room ditty-- + + "It's One--Two--ten times a day, + And now that you 'ave got it, + Don't yer give it away--! + ONE--TWO--ten times a day, + When I was in the timid, orkard squad, boys." + +Alfred said solemnly: + +"I ain't one to deny that wars may come. And you were always a good +fighter, Harry, but we are men o' peace." + +"Ay," said one of the group, "I never did fancy soldierin'." + +Alfred said slily: + +"William ain't yet forgiven a Hampshire redcoat who walked out and off, +by Golly! with his girl." + +Having fired this shot, Alfred walked on. In his mind he turned over the +thought of war, such a war as he, indeed, had never dreamed of in +maddest nightmare. And the words and tune of the barrack-room ditty +echoed through the cells of his brain. He wondered vaguely whether he +could stick such dire discipline--ten times a day. Wouldn't he up and +smite the sergeant to mother earth with his big fists, which clenched +themselves at the mere thought of such a treadmill? Then he reflected +comfortably that England's fleet sailed gloriously between him and such +a possibility. The Squire belonged to the blue-water school. So did the +Parson. Alfred muttered to himself: + +"They talk that way because they know no better, pore souls!" + +A carrier had other things to worry about. + +Approaching the Vicarage by the back way, he heard a woman's voice. He +stood still. Tender modulations fluttered, like doves of peace, out of +the pantry window. Alfred smiled. + +"'Tis she, the pretty dear! Talks and sings just like a throstle." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +FANCY BROOMFIELD + + +Fancy Broomfield left Salisbury for Nether-Applewhite with a heavy heart +not hidden by a pathetic smile. Possibly Alfred Yellam had a glimpse of +unshed tears, when she took her place beside him in his van. And his +ears may have caught a poignant note of distress quavering now and again +beneath her prattle. Country folk are observant, although they keep +their observations to themselves. Fancy had been happy at home. When she +took a place in Salisbury, in the time-honoured Cathedral Close, she saw +her people frequently. As she moved farther from Salisbury, she was +grievously conscious of what separation from her father included. The +fact that he was failing in health, and therefore in fortune, punctuated +her misgivings. Alfred won her confidence with a few curt words about +her new place and its master. He did not mention her bouncing +predecessor, but he talked of the Parson and his household with the +incisive tones of one who knew. What he said was reassuring. Most +maidservants approach a new place with justifiable apprehensions +concerning the mistress. In this case there was no mistress. Possibly +disagreeable fellow-servants may arouse even livelier forebodings. A +cook, for example, holds the keys of Heaven and Hell in her hands. Fancy +had envisaged an immense cook with a great red face, and a liver swollen +to atrabiliar disproportions. She was pleased to learn that the autocrat +of the Parson's kitchen was not much larger than herself and +consistently amiable. + +"Parson preaches against sour faces," said Alfred. "No yapping and +snarling in his house. From your looks, you ain't one to come +slummicking in after hours with a silly tale about being took all over +queer when out walking." + +"My! no," affirmed Fancy. + +Alfred digested this in silence. Fancy had already told him much about +her family, but she had not mentioned others. Presently, Alfred said +abruptly: + +"Have you got a young man in Salisbury?" + +Fancy laughed for the first time, a silvery trickle of laughter. + +"Why should you think I have, Mr. Yellam?" + +"It seems to me likely." + +"Well, I am fond of one boy. He's too sweet for anything." + +"Is he?" + +"Yes, I'd like you to meet him. Maybe I'll show you his photograph one +fine day. It's in my trunk. He's a sailor-boy, and at sea." + +"Ah. At sea, is he? My mother says that a woman is silly to marry a +sailor. Why? Because, if you love him, he is always at sea, and if you +hate him, he bides at home." + +Fancy laughed again. + +"Then my boy, after he marries, will be always at sea. How miserable for +his wife!" + +"It is a fair warning." + +"For me, Mr. Yellam?" + +"I mean, if you marry your sailor-boy." + +"But I can't marry my own dear brother." + +And then Alfred laughed, Homerically. + +Soon afterwards, he left her and a modest box at the Vicarage. She +thanked him demurely, asking how much she owed him. Alfred was tempted +to demand a kiss in payment, but a glance at a virginal face restrained +him. He said, "One shilling, please, miss," and she slipped the coin +into his ample palm, adding: "It's a new one. That brings luck, don't +it?" Alfred indulged in no speculations on this point, but when he found +himself alone, he examined the loose change in his pocket, and picking +out a new shilling, transferred it to another pocket, wondering +furtively if he were making a fool of himself. He whistled gaily as he +drove on. + +Fancy was shown to a small room, which pleased her immensely, because no +other maid shared it with her. From a casemented window, she could see +the park of Pomfret Court, with its clumps of fine trees and its herds +of dappled deer. She felt that she would be happy in such a quiet place. +The room was very simply but comfortably furnished, spotlessly clean and +fresh. She admired the wall-paper, white with small sprigs of pink roses +on it. What a lucky girl to have such a nice room! And, approaching the +Vicarage, she had fallen in love with the many-gabled house standing +amongst beeches, a warm-looking house of time-mellowed brick, built +substantially, happily situated below the church and just above the +village. As she was unpacking, the house-maid, Molly, brought her a cup +of tea. Being her first day, Fancy was not expected to wait at dinner, +but Molly told her that after dinner she would be sent for, and that she +might expect a five-minute chat with her master. + +"Is he masterful?" she asked. + +Molly nodded, adding confidentially: + +"Such a pair of eyes as never was. Gimlets! It ain't no fun lying to +him, and no use either. He can look bang through a pore girl, and tell +her what she's had for dinner." + +"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Fancy. + +"Don't you worry! 'Tis an easy place. No SHE poking and prying about. +Only we have to be good girls here, and then we're happy." + +"I do hope I shall be happy," said Fancy, adding hastily, "I look such a +fright when I ain't." + +After dinner she was duly sent for, and found the Parson walking up and +down his study. He regarded her austerely, bidding her welcome to his +house. Fancy noticed at once the keenness of his glance, and the still +more penetrating quality of his voice. First impressions count +enormously with sensitive creatures, and young women in Fancy's station +of life are not much concerned with shades and gradations. To most of +them men are angels or devils, black or white. Fancy had encountered +what she called "devils" in Salisbury, rough fellows with Rabelaisian +jests upon their thick lips. From such she shrank instinctively. Happily +for her, she had met the other sort in and out of the Cathedral Close. +Instantly, she acclaimed Mr. Hamlin as angel, a rather terrible angel, +such as she imagined Saint Michael to be, pitiless to the wicked, +smiting them hip and thigh with a flaming sword. Her second impression, +not quite so vivid, was more agreeable. The Parson's clothes were +shabby, and his study, which, indeed, reflected truthfully the man's +personality, presented a somewhat bleak aspect. It looked a workshop +rather than a comfortable room. The cocoanut matting was worn; plain +deal shelves held innumerable cheaply-bound books; pamphlets were piled +upon the floor; the chairs, with one exception, were not upholstered. +She blushed a little as the thought came to her that she, the new +parlourmaid, not yet in working kit, was the smartest object in her +master's room. + +Mr. Hamlin asked her a few questions. Fancy had good references; she was +a Churchwoman; she had been confirmed by Sarum himself. She belonged to +the Girls' Friendly Society. Did she like her work? Yes. Mr. Hamlin +smiled. For a moment Saint Michael vanished and a less terrifying +personage stood in his place. + +"I like _my_ work," said the Parson incisively. "That is a vital matter. +Perhaps it is the most vital matter in the world. Each of us has his or +her work, and if we do it gladly it is well with us. You don't look very +strong." + +"I'm much stronger than I look, sir." + +Her soft, deprecating voice brought another smile to the Parson's lips. +He said abruptly: + +"Good. Women need all their strength and reserves of strength. Your work +here will not be too hard. Spare yourself whenever you reasonably can, +and so you will serve me and yourself the better. Good-night." + +Fancy went away, slightly awed, but feeling much more comfortable. +Before going to bed, she wrote a short letter to her father, telling him +that she liked her place. She added a postscript: "Mr. Yellam, the +carrier, was ever so kind to me." + +She slept well in a comfortable bed. + +She came to Nether-Applewhite on a Thursday. On the following Sunday, as +Alfred Yellam had foreseen, she was feeling homesick, because she had +never failed to see her own people on that day. After luncheon, to +hearten herself up, she sang hymns in the pantry. + +Her face brightened, when she perceived Alfred at the door of the +pantry. After asking her how she fared, and learning that the other +maids were "out," he said, in business-like tones: + +"Any orders for the carrier?" + +Fancy smiled demurely. She was alone in the house. The Parson had a +Children's Service at three. She guessed that, as a rule, carriers did +not call for orders at such an hour. + +"Not as I know of, Mr. Yellam. Do you generally call for orders on +Sunday afternoon?" + +By this time she had been informed of Alfred's perambulations with her +predecessor. It might be an honoured custom in Nether-Applewhite for the +carrier to walk out with the Vicarage parlourmaid. Alfred gave a guffaw. + +"Well, no; I took a notion to drop in, casual-like, to pass the time of +day." + +"What would the Vicar say to that?" + +"Parson ain't the fearsome man you take him to be. A very human +gentleman, always welcome in our house. And I make bold to tell you that +I'm heartily welcome in his." + +"If that is so," said Fancy, politely, "won't you sit down, Mr. Yellam?" + +She indicated a chair into which Alfred bumped massively, with the air +of one not to be budged from an impregnable position. Fancy was getting +ready some dainty tea-things. + +"Expecting company, miss?" + +"Yes. Mr. Lionel Pomfret and Mrs. Pomfret. A nice tea. Master's orders." + +Alfred nodded. He eyed Fancy with ever-increasing approval. A black +gown, with snowy apron, bib, and cap, became her admirably. Beneath the +cap her soft brown hair lay in shining ripples; the bib lent extra +fulness to a too thin bosom; her big hazel eyes sparkled with animation; +her pale cheeks had a tinge of pink in them. Alfred contrasted her +delicate features with the exuberant comeliness of the late parlourmaid. +Charm was not a word very distinctly defined in his vocabulary. But he +became conscious of Fancy's charm, although he would have called it by +another name. Certainly she was sweetly pretty, like a rose-leaf which a +rough wind might blow away. More than aught else, too, he was struck by +her little hands, which moved deftly and swiftly. He made sure that she +was a good needlewoman. Such hands could make light pastry. All this +pleased him tremendously. Fancy prattled on about the company expected, +telling Alfred what he knew already, but he listened in silence, +captivated by her voice. She cut dexterously some thin slices of brown +bread-and-butter, as she spoke of the love-match between Squire's son +and Parson's daughter. + +"I am looking forward to waiting on them," she declared. + +"Yes--a very handsome, notable couple. Squire'll be a granfer before he +knows where he is." + +"What things you do say, Mr. Yellam!" + +"Ah-h-h! In my common way, I say what I think, never meaning offence, +particularly to young maids, but 'tis a fact Sir Geoffrey is fair aching +for grandchildren, the more the merrier. 'Twould be terrible if his +house and lands passed to some measly next-of-kin. But we won't think of +that." + +"No. Not yet, at any rate." + +Alfred felt reproved but not disconcerted. It might be politic to change +the talk to motor-'buses, so he said abruptly: + +"I'm in a fair sweat, Miss Fancy." + +"Mercy me! Shall I fetch you a glass of water?" + +"Figure of speech, miss. It's like this, if you'll excuse me talking of +my own affairs." + +"Why, I like that. It's so--so friendly of you, Mr. Yellam." + +"I'm standing betwixt the devil and the deep sea." + +"Well, I never!" + +He gazed so earnestly at Fancy that she wondered if she were the deep +sea, and that the devil was an allusion to the late parlourmaid. Alfred +continued: + +"The world, miss, goes round and round for true lovers, but it don't +stand still for anybody, leastways not for carriers. We must push along +with the times, eh?" + +He glanced at her anxiously. She was quick to perceive that he wanted +counsel and much flattered thereby. She eyed him as keenly as he, just +now, had eyed her. Being so frail and attenuated herself, his massive +form and square head attracted her strangely. She admired his big chin +and too heavy nose. And her eyes lingered with appreciation upon the +bulging biceps and deltoids shewing strongly beneath his thin summer +jacket. What a sad pity that her dear father had not been cast in such a +mould! To his anxious question, she replied with a little bob of her +head. + +"My father and granfer were carriers before me. Van and horses was good +enough for them. And good enough for me, too. It tears me to scrap 'em." + +"Scrap them?" + +"Ay. When you go back home, how'd it suit you to ride in a motor-'bus?" + +"It would be grand," said Fancy. + +Alfred rubbed his hands; his red face beamed. + +"Dang me, if that don't put the lid on it." + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Yellam?" + +"I was half hoping you'd say what you did. Yes--it would be grand. A +nice 'bus--red and yaller--'d make the neighbours yap a bit. Do you know +what they call my old van?" + +"It's a nice comfortable van." + +"So 'tis. But would-be funny folks call it 'Flash o' Lightnin'.'" + +Fancy laughed. Alfred decided that it was a treat to hear her laugh. + +"Are you angry with me for laughing?" + +"Lord--no! A laugh like yours warms the cockles of my heart. Laugh away, +miss. All the same, there's a meaning in what neighbours say. I do move +slow, when I've a load. And in winter-time, when roads are heavy, I just +crawl along. You're right. A motor-'bus _is_ grand. And I can pay cash +for one, I can." + +He spoke with pride, opening his large hands. Fancy, having finished +cutting the bread-and-butter, sat down opposite to Alfred. With some +difficulty he mastered the impulse to invite this bird-like creature to +perch on his knee. Her air of aloofness both pleased and exasperated +him. She sat very still, with her hands folded upon her lap, just as +good girls sat in church. Alfred talked with gusto about motor-'buses. + +"Can you drive a motor?" asked Fancy, when he paused to mop his forehead +with a huge red bandana. + +"No, miss. But if I say it as shouldn't, I can do most anything when I +try. They'll teach me in Salisbury--free, gratis and for nothing, if I +buy the 'bus." + +"I do hope you'll be careful, Mr. Yellam." + +Alfred was delighted at this mark of solicitude. For the moment nothing +more was to be said. He searched his mind for another suitable topic of +conversation. Already he had decided to ask Fancy to walk out with him, +but he feared a rebuff. It was "up" to him to shew her his paces. Any +premature love-making might be disastrous. Nevertheless, it behoved him +to waste no time in making himself agreeable. Half-a-dozen likely young +fellows would be fluttering about Fancy before the week was out. First +come, first served. He essayed a fresh flight: + +"Coming through village, miss, I met a soldier--'No Account Harry' we +used to call him. Back from the Indies, and spruced up wonderful." + +Fancy exhibited lively interest. + +"A soldier, Mr. Yellam! I do like soldiers, because--because----" Her +voice melted on a silence; her cheeks shewed a deeper pink. + +"Do tell, miss. Why do you like--soldiers?" + +"You'll think me such a silly." + +"Not me. I'm no mumbudgetter. What you tell me I'll keep to myself." + +Her eyes dwelt steadily on his. In a lower voice, she asked: + +"Do you believe in fortune-telling, Mr. Yellam?" + +"I don't know as I do. But I don't know as I don't." + +"I do. And--maybe the Vicar wouldn't like this--I can tell fortunes +myself with cards." + +"Well, I never!" + +"Yes. About three months ago, a lady came to Salisbury and lodged near +us. She told fortunes with cards; she taught me. She didn't do it for +money. Now, if you laugh, I'll never forgive you...." + +Alfred became portentously solemn. + +"The lady told me that I should marry a soldier." + +Alfred looked perturbed, but his shrewd sense sustained him. + +"Did she? Likely as not she'd seen you walking out with one." + +"I have never walked out with a soldier." + +Alfred looked unhappy. He thought of the well-set-up Highlander. He +beheld Fancy hanging on his arm, gazing upward into a bronzed, +devil-may-care face, listening to strange tales of the Orient. Jealousy +ravaged him. His dejection deepened when he discovered that his tongue +had lost the trick of speech. He yearned to speak lightly and +facetiously about soldiers. But he could think of nothing better than +this: + +"Soldiers are soldiers." + +Fancy read him easily. Her father distrusted soldiers, who loved and ran +away. He had warned her against their beguilements. But Fancy had read +English history, more intelligently than most girls of similar +upbringing. She knew what soldiers had done for England. Also, she had +eye for a bit of colour. Soldiers appealed to her imagination. She put +sailors first, the jolly tars. Tommy came next, with his swagger cane, +his jaunty walk, and his cap cocked on one side, shewing a "quiff" +beneath. + +"Why do men, like you, Mr. Yellam, despise soldiers?" + +Alfred wriggled, impaled upon this barbed hook. He had wit enough to +realise that serious issues impended. He might easily offend Fancy. And +no answer rose pat to his tongue. Why did he despise soldiers? He was +too honest to deny the indictment. Yes; he did despise soldiers. He +answered stolidly: + +"There are soldiers and soldiers. 'Tis sober truth, miss, that the best +men in these parts don't enlist. The pay is bad, and the work hard. The +wrong 'uns take the shilling only when they're driven to it. It may be +different in Salisbury." + +"I don't know that it is. I can understand why men like you, Mr. Yellam, +don't enlist. Why should you? But that doesn't change my feelings about +soldiers. Whatever they may have been, whatever they are, I think of +this: At any moment, with their hard work, with their poor pay, they may +be called upon to give their lives for--us." + +Her soft voice faltered. Perhaps Alfred was already in love. He may have +been. When her voice failed, and he beheld her for the first time as a +woman of sensibilities, tender for others, pleading for the less +fortunate, all that was best in him leaped into being. Nothing but his +disability to find words for his thoughts prevented him from avowing his +feelings. He realised instantly that here sat the girl for him, the wife +he wanted. His experiments in courtship, if you could term it that, +confirmed his conviction that he had remained single so long simply +because Fancy was waiting for him. She was absolutely right because the +others had been as absolutely wrong. + +"That's true," he heard himself saying. + +Fancy went on in a livelier tone: + +"Have you read Kipling, Mr. Yellam?" + +"I seem to have heard tell of Mr. Rudyard Kipling in the newspapers." + +"I want to tell you what he said about soldiers." + +She quoted slowly: + + "It's Tommy this, and Tommy that, and Tommy--go away! + But it's--Thank you, Mr. Atkins, when the band begins to play." + +Alfred was visibly impressed. He recalled the Highlander's words about +war, such a war as he had never dreamed of. What if the band did begin +to play? More, it surprised him that Fancy should quote Kipling. +Obviously, she had enjoyed educational advantages denied to him. She +spoke like the quality. He began to measure the distance between them, +conscious of shrinkage in himself. To gain time he repeated her last +words: + +"When the band begins to play! 'No Account Harry' spoke of that, yes, he +did. But war is for kings and potentates, not for us. As I came along +river, I says to myself: 'We have peace here, glory be to our noble +Fleet!' It gives me a mort of comfort thinking of our mighty ships. And +I remember what Parson said not so long ago. 'You working-men,' he says, +'are the backbone of England.' And, by Golly! I stiffened myself +accordingly." + +Fancy smiled, and said no more. She glanced at the pantry clock. Alfred +rose. His face was redder than usual, as he held out his hand. It +consoled him mightily to reflect that "No Account Harry," by virtue or +vice of an unsavoury record, would hardly dare to stick his tip-tilted +nose into the Vicarage. + +"So long, Miss Fancy. Would it be called presumption, if I made so bold +as to ask you to take the air with me next Sunday? 'Tis wonderful pretty +in the Park, and I'd like to shew you the fat bullocks." + +Fancy blushed, for he was squeezing her small hand. + +"I should like it very much," she replied simply. + +Alfred asked for no more, wise man! He had squeezed her hand, and she +had not resented it, although her slim fingers lay calm and cool within +his ardent clasp. She accompanied him to the back door. In the lapel of +his jacket Alfred sported one of his mother's roses. He presented it to +Fancy in silence--and fled. As he passed into the park, intending to map +out a pilgrimage for the following Sunday, he thought complacently: + +"I'm a forcible man. Neighbours say that, and 'tis so. She's a dinky +maid, bless her!" + +With eager strides he mounted the gentle slope of the long escarpment +between Pomfret Vicarage and Pomfret Court, keeping to the right of the +main drive. The path he followed meandered through a plantation. +Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of a pair of lovers strolling arm in +crook, with love in their eyes and laughter on their lips. He recognised +Lionel Pomfret and his bride. Alfred plunged into the hazels and let +them pass. When the coast was clear he took the path again, skirting the +Court and the Home Farm, and, ultimately, debouching upon the downs. +Warmed by his walk, he removed his hat and fanned himself with it. Then +he sat down and let his eyes wander across the landscape. + +How fair it was upon that midsummer's afternoon! + +A soft haze slightly obscured the water meadows. Through it he could see +the Avon, a silvery riband. In the far distance the finest spire in the +world soared into palely blue skies. The breeze from the land had died +down. Presently the breeze from the sea would stir, tremulously, the +grasses at his feet. Sheep were grazing hard by. Some of them rested in +the shade of the yews which fringed the top of the down. Immediately +below him stretched the park. Under the clumps of beeches stood the +fallow deer. Beyond were the lawns of Pomfret Court, flanked by ancient +elms and oaks and horse-chestnuts. Between the masses of translucent +foliage, the facade of the house glowed faintly red as if the sunbeams +penetrating the bricks during nearly four hundred years were now +radiating from them. + +All this to Alfred--and to how many others--was the outward and visible +sign of peace, a peace sanctified by time and the labour of countless +hands. That such a peace could be imperilled passed the understanding of +wiser men than the carrier. Surely it would endure till the end, till +eternity. + +For ever and ever--Amen! + + + + +CHAPTER III + +INTRODUCING MRS. MUCKLOW + + +Susan Yellam rarely left her cottage, and, during week-days, was not too +cordial to chance visitors. On Sunday afternoon, however, she was at +home to friends, and hospitably glad to offer them the best cup of tea +in Nether-Applewhite, and some hot buttered toast which waited for +nobody. If a too nice stomach disdained buttered toast, the pangs of +hunger could be alleviated with bread and honey (from the hives in the +garden) or bread and jam (of Mrs. Yellam's own making). A rich cake was +in cut. + +Mrs. Yellam had been a Mucklow. And her favourite brother, Habakkuk, had +married a Rockley--all of Nether-Applewhite. Mrs. Mucklow generally +dropped in on Sunday afternoons, bringing a grievance with her. The +Mucklows had not prospered like the Yellams and Rockleys. And this was +the more remarkable because the Mucklow men were fine upstanding +fellows, reasonably sober, and God-fearing Churchgoers. The ancients of +the village affirmed that the brains of the family had been served out +in one lump, and given to Susan Yellam. + +Upon the Sunday following Alfred's visit to the Vicarage, Mrs. Mucklow, +wearing black silk and a bonnet, dropped into the cottage. She was +taller than her sister-in-law, and very thin. Invariably she disagreed +with everything said by Mrs. Yellam, and yet, oddly enough, the two +women remained friends, partly because Susan believed devoutly in the +ties of blood, and partly because Jane's rather fatuous contradictions +shed searchlights upon Susan's commonsense. Wisdom is comfortably +bolstered by the folly of others. + +"Well, Jane, how be you?" + +Mrs. Mucklow answered dolorously: + +"I be no better than I was las' Sunday." + +"That's bad." + +"No, it ain't. I expected to be worse. Very soon I shall be lying along +o' Mother. She suffered wi' her innards, pore soul, just as I do." + +"She got comfort out of it, too, just as you do, dear. Sit you down, and +let's hear the news." + +Jane Mucklow sighed, and sat down. Unlike her sister-in-law, she strayed +daily into the cottages of her neighbours, picking up gossip, and +repeating it with embellishments of her own. As she removed white cotton +gloves, she said sharply: + +"I want your news first, Susan." + +"But I haven't any, Jane; nothing, that is to say, which you don't well +know already." + +"Maybe. But I wanted it from your own lips." + +"Bless the woman! Whatever do 'ee want?" + +"What you prides yourself on giving--information. Don't sit there so +genteel, and pretend to me that you don't know what your Alferd be up to +this very minute!" + +"I don't--and nor do you." + +"Yas, I do. Your Alferd was over to Vicarage las' Sunday. To-day, he's +traipsin' the Park with Miss Fancy Broomfield." + +From her pronunciation of the name, it was quite evident that the young +person in question was not what diplomats call _gratissima_ to Mrs. +Mucklow. And the sniff that followed was aggressive. Mrs. Yellam poured +out a large cup of tea with an impassive face. Inwardly, she winced. +Alfred had kept his plans to himself, doing so, moreover, in accordance +with advice well rubbed into him ever since he had affairs of his own to +attend to. But a mother--and such a mother--might be deemed an exception +to a golden rule. Mrs. Yellam said calmly: + +"Is he? Who is your Rose walking out wi'?" + +The question was ungrammatical and unkind. Rose, large, plain, and +red-headed, sighed for swains who did not walk out with her. She might +have been comfortably married to Alfred at this minute. The older +families in Nether-Applewhite fancied intermarriage, much to the +exasperation of Sir George Pomfret. And so far--the stock being +exceptionally sound--no great evil had come of this. Within the year +Prudence Rockley had married her first cousin. In Mrs. Mucklow's opinion +marriages between near of kin were preferable to alliances with +outsiders. Town girls, she regarded, not without reason, as hussies. + +"My Rose be a good girl, and well you knows it." + +"Maybe you have something agen this Fancy Broomfield? If so, Jane, out +wi' it." + +"Townbred girls be all alike." + +Mrs. Yellam replied tranquilly: + +"I bain't an upholder o' they, but I keep faith in my Alferd's good +sense and judgment. He's walked out wi' a baker's dozen o' maids afore +this 'un, and why not? I've allers told Alferd to pick an' choose." + +Mrs. Mucklow attacked the buttered toast almost viciously. + +"'Tis true, I suppose, that his father's van ain't good enough for +_your_ son?" + +Inwardly Mrs. Yellam winced again. Alfred had made his decision "on his +own." But she answered as tranquilly as before: + +"Seemin'ly it ain't. God A'mighty knows what us be coming to, and He +don't tell. As a Christian woman I bows afore Him." + +Poor Mrs. Mucklow, continually contrasting the prosperity of Alfred with +the ill-luck, as she deemed it, of her own three sons, sniffed again. +Not long since the three Mucklows had contemplated emigration to Canada. +They had been anchored in Nether-Applewhite by Mr. Fishpingle, sometime +butler to Sir Geoffrey, now bailiff at the Home Farm. They happened to +pursue avocations such as hurdling, spar-making, hedging and ditching, +which were precariously dependent upon a demand that varied +tremendously, a demand that, year by year, shewed inexorable signs of +failing. And Mrs. Mucklow was uneasily conscious that her sons' ill luck +was regarded by her sister-in-law as part of a Divine dispensation. In +the same complacent spirit the good-luck of Alfred became, in Susan +Yellam's eyes, a mark of Divine favour. It may be imagined how this +rankled in the heart of a woman who held herself to be as good a +Christian as her neighbours, and perhaps better. Mrs. Mucklow retorted +tartly: + +"You be allers shovin' your Christian feelin's down our throats, Susan. +But I say this--you ain't been tried as I hev." + +Mrs. Yellam dealt with this drastically. + +"I be thankful for God's mercies. I might be less thankful if so be as I +mixed up my victuals as you do. Faith in A'mighty God have more to do +wi' the stomach than most folks think on. As for being tried--I tend +four graves in churchyard to your one." + +Mrs. Mucklow's small beady eyes softened. + +"Yas--you've had your sore trials, Susan. And the graves be a credit to +'ee. But I've said it afore, and I say it again, small fam'lies make for +righteousness. Keepin' my childern in shoe-leather alone took a deal o' +saintliness out o' me. Be that cake?" + +"I hopes so. Have a slice?" + +"Your rich cake allers lies heavy on my pore stomach, but 'twould be +ungenteel to refuse." + +Mrs. Yellam cut a large slice. As Mrs. Mucklow consumed it, Mrs. Yellam +said impressively: + +"I'll tell 'ee something, Jane, as betwixt us two. I ain't one to brag +unduly, and 'tis true that I be proud o' my Christian feelings. For why? +Because, long ago, I come mighty near to losing 'em." + +Mrs. Mucklow gasped; a piece of cake stuck in her throat. + +"I never did! Come near to losin' 'em, did 'ee?" + +"Yas." Mrs. Yellam's voice became solemn. "When I buried my pore +husband...." + +"That was a rare funeral, Susan. Squire and my lady there, flowers from +the Hall, a very moving set-out. Was I interrupting of 'ee?" + +"You was, Jane, but never mind. As I laid my husband to rest, I says to +myself: 'The Lard gave and the Lard ha' taken away.'" + +"Very proper." + +"The pore man suffered so bad with rheumatics that it seemed God's mercy +to take 'un. He'd no pleasure in life onless he were talking of his +aches and pains. And allers the misery o' telling me what he'd like to +eat an' drink--and couldn't. That fair tore him, and me. He was a rare +doer, like Alferd. When he was taken, I did not rebel." + +Mrs. Mucklow was so interested that she suspended operations with the +cake, awaiting the climax of an astounding tale, arrested by a strange +expression upon her sister-in-law's face. The pupils of Mrs. Yellam's +eyes seemed to contract; her lips became set. She continued very +impressively: + +"When my children died, 'twas different. Seemed to me like as if I was +buryin' part o' myself. 'Twere bad enough when the two boys went, but +when Lizzie sickened, my own lil' maid, why then, Jane, I did rebel." + +"And no wonder!" + +"I watched her slippin' away, and I says, 'No more churchgoin'.'" + +Mrs. Mucklow repeated the words: + +"No more churchgoing--! That, from you? I be shaken to my beam ends." + +Mrs. Yellam went on, in the same cold, incisive voice: + +"We be told, Jane, that the Lard chastens him whom He loves, but we read +elsewhere in the holy Book that He chastises them as He hates. When +Lizzie died I'd the blasphemeous notion that God A'mighty hated me. And +then my faith went a-flutterin' out o' winder. I lay in bed two Sundays, +because I dassn't go into my pew. I never spoke to nobody. Yas--I lay +abed, fighting Satan. He tempted me rarely." + +Mrs. Mucklow nodded. + +"Ah-h-h! You be tellin' a wondersome tale, Susan. Satan nearly had me, +near as no matter, when I was a maid. He came gallivantin' along in a +red coat...." + +"A soldier?" + +"No, a fox-hunting young gentleman. 'Tis a subject I don't care to think +about. How did Satan tempt you, Susan?" + +"Wi' a brandy-bottle. It stood there makin' eyes at me...." + +"For all the world like my young gentleman." + +"What saved you, Jane?" + +"I dunno'. It might ha' been God A'mighty's grace. It might ha' been +fear o' consequences.' + +"Them two things saved me, Jane. But I calls it one thing. God +A'mighty's grace made both on us think o' consequences. I says to +myself: 'What will Alferd do if his mother don't go churchalong? What'll +happen to him, if his mother be known as a drunkard?' And, there and +then, Jane, my pore faith come a-flutterin' back, a-shaking its +feathers, like a hen after a storm o' rain. And the storm was over, too. +It's been warm and sunny for me ever since. Now you know why I be proud +o' my Christian feelings." + +Mrs. Mucklow nodded and finished her cake. She had begun her second cup +of tea, when steps were heard upon the stone flags which led from the +front wicket to the back door. + +"'Tis Alferd," said Mrs. Yellam. + +"And Miss Fancy Broomfield," added Jane Mucklow. "Come to ask your +blessing, Susan." + +"Fiddle!" replied Mrs. Yellam sharply. + +Within a minute, however, it became plain that Alfred wanted nothing +more exciting than a cup of tea for himself and his companion. They had +climbed to the top of the down, after visiting Mr. Fishpingle at the +Home Farm. Miss Broomfield, formally presented to the elder women and as +formally received, looked pale and tired. Possibly, she divined +hostility the more penetrating because suppressed. Mrs. Yellam said +magnificently: + +"Please excuse me for welcoming you, Miss Broomfield, in my kitchen." + +Fancy smiled. + +"What a pretty kitchen!" + +The kitchen--as Mrs. Yellam was complacently aware--deserved the +adjective. It boasted, what is never found in modern cottages, an open +hearth and ingle-nook. Hams and flitches of bacon were smoked in the +wide chimney. After such treatment, the hams were hung in a row from a +big black beam. By the side of the hearth stood a small stove large +enough to bake modest joints. The window, with diamond-paned casements, +was deeply recessed, with a red-cushioned seat running round it. The +dresser, opposite to the hearth, exhibited pewter and some +willow-pattern pottery. Upon the oak panelling on each side of the +hearth hung gleaming brass, including an immense warming-pan. The table +in the middle of the room had been stoutly built of deal. Removing the +table-cloth, you would have seen a surface scrubbed white as the linen +cloth. Along the window-sill were pots of geraniums. Even Mrs. Mucklow +admitted that Queen Mary could eat her dinner off the red tiles of the +floor. + +Mrs. Yellam nodded. Alfred brought a chair for Fancy, but she declared +her intention of sitting upon one of two stools against the wall. + +To her amazement, Alfred said sharply: + +"Don't sit on that!" + +"Why ever not, Mr. Yellam?" + +"'Tis a coffin stool." + +Fancy sat down upon the chair he placed for her. Mrs. Mucklow said +mournfully: + +"I wonders, Susan, why you keep they stools in your kitchen." + +"And so do I," added Alfred. + +Mrs. Yellam answered simply: + +"They mind me, Alferd, that in the midst o' life we be wise to think, +now and again, o' death. Will you remove your hat, Miss Broomfield?" + +Fancy did so, slipping off her gloves first. Mrs. Yellam frightened her +a little. Not quite at ease, she minded her table manners, and behaved +with a gentility quietly noted and silently commended by the elder +women. On such occasions, when a stranger happened to be present, Mrs. +Yellam loved to lead the talk, choosing a subject likely to improve the +minds of her listeners. The captious may regard this as an unpleasing +trait. Mrs. Yellam believed that it was more blessed to give than to +receive instruction. But, listening to Parson or Squire, she imbibed +such wisdom as fell from their august lips with an attention and an +intelligence which she exacted from others when she held the floor. Her +first duty, as hostess, was to see that her guest made a good tea, the +sort of tea, obviously, that she did not get at home. Fancy, however, +trifled with her food, being overtired, and positively refused to eat +cake. Mrs. Yellam said majestically: + +"My son tells me that you be a reader, Miss Broomfield." + +"I like books," replied Fancy. "I have not read many, Mrs. Yellam." + +"I don't hold wi' reading," observed Mrs. Mucklow; "leastways, not for +pore folks as has no time to waste." + +This was a sly thrust at Susan Yellam, one of the few villagers who took +in and read a halfpenny paper. + +"Nor do I, Jane, for such as you means. Parson says you find in a book +just what you bring to 'un. There's folks in Nether-Applewhite as brings +nothing, nothing at all." + +Mrs. Mucklow helped herself to a second slice of cake. Alfred lit his +pipe, hoping that Fancy would stand her ground when his mother opened +fire. Mrs. Yellam smiled graciously at her guest. She might be +"spindling," but she looked intelligent. Nevertheless, she distrusted +intelligence in very young women. Undisciplined, it might turn a modest +maid into a militant suffragette. From all such, Good Lord, deliver us! +A Nether-Applewhite girl, at the head of her class in school, had joined +the Salvation Army, and now banged a tambourine in Southampton. +Sometimes she wondered whether her own Lizzie mightn't have turned out a +handful. Such a possibility almost resigned her to the loss of a child +very precocious and with a strong will of her own. You will understand +the temperament and character of Susan Yellam better if you grasp the +fact that she endeavoured, habitually, to explain the mysterious +workings of Providence both to herself and to her neighbours. She had +been a devoted wife and mother, but, marking as she did the +disconcerting changes in young women of her acquaintance, she was forced +to the conclusion that many mothers profited by losing their prayers. +God Almighty knew best. She addressed Fancy again: + +"You live in Salisbury?" + +"I do, Mrs. Yellam." + +"My son tells me that there be many radicals in the town." + +"I daresay." + +"Be you true blue or yaller?" + +"I don't quite understand." + +"Be you Conservative or Radical?" + +"My father is a Liberal." + +Alfred looked uneasy. As a carrier, seeking business where he could find +it, and dealing impartially with all, he eschewed politics, and +deprecated the discussion of controversial themes. He would have been +amazed had a stranger informed him that his outlook on life was +panoramic in comparison with his mother's. Coming to the rescue of +Fancy, he said encouragingly: + +"So is Mr. Hamlin. He ain't the worse parson for that. As Mother knows." + +Mrs. Yellam nodded. A slight acerbity informed her voice as she answered +her son: + +"Mr. Hamlin be a good man in parish, Alferd. 'Tis a square sound peg in +a square hole. And I say this for 'un. He don't talk politics wi' me." + +Mrs. Mucklow interpolated slily: + +"Ah-h-h! Parson be a wise man too." + +Mrs. Yellam ignored this superbly. She looked at Alfred, but her remarks +were addressed to Fancy. + +"We all knows that Mr. Hamlin is Radical, and 'tis a sore point wi' +Squire and many others. I hold wi' the old ways, I do. I've no patience +wi' mischief-makers, a-settin' class agen class, stirrin' up strife, and +a-puttin' beggars on horseback. As for they jumped-up folks, sanding +their sugar yesterday an' to-day peacocking along pretending to be +quality, I fair hates the sight o' 'em. I wouldn't let a maid o' mine +take service wi' such. All this talk about equality be foolish and +contrary to Scrupture. There be gentle, and simple, rich and pore. And I +takes it that pore means more nor poverty--pore o' purse, pore o' mind, +pore o' body...." + +"And poor of soul," said Fancy. + +Mrs. Yellam turned sharply. But there was no offence in the girl's quiet +voice. She lay back in her chair, listening attentively, obviously +interested. Mrs. Yellam nodded. + +"And pore o' soul. You don't look, Miss Broomfield, as if you was +ashamed o' service." + +"I ain't," said Fancy. + +"And I reckons you hold wi' me that folks should rest content in their +proper station o' life, eh?" + +Fancy answered politely: + +"I heard a sermon preached on that in our cathedral." + +"Did 'ee now?" + +"Yes. Till I heard that sermon, Mrs. Yellam, I was never quite able to +understand about doing my duty in that state of life unto which it +should please God to call me." + +"'Tis plain as plain to me," said Mrs. Yellam. + +Fancy hesitated. She desired to please Alfred's mother. She was quick to +realise how easily she might displease her. Being innately sincere, she +continued bravely: + +"It seemed to me to be wrong not to want to better oneself, to rise +higher...." + +As she paused, at a loss for words, Mrs. Mucklow interrupted with a hard +laugh. + +"Right or wrong, we all feels that way. Susan Yellam don't fancy motors, +but she'd like to ride in her carriage an' pair, and would too, if so be +as a convict uncle from Australia left her a fortin'." + +Alfred said uneasily: + +"Now, Aunt Jane, you know we ain't got convict uncles t'other side of +the world. What will Miss Broomfield be thinking of us?" + +To his astonishment and delight Fancy, not his mother, answered Mrs. +Mucklow. + +"But that is what the preacher made so plain and comfortsome. He said +that we were not to be content with the station to which we might be +born, but content in that unto which God might call us. He might call us +to a higher position, or to a lower. He might give carriages and horses, +or take them away." + +Her gentle voice, so persuasive, so sincere, carried with it an +extraordinary conviction. This simple explanation of a text familiar to +anybody who has learnt the Catechism became instantly adequate. + +Mrs. Yellam, quite as sincere as Fancy, said quickly: + +"'Tis true. I never thought on't just that way. And 'tis fair, too. Let +God's Will be done, whate'er betide." Her face brightened. She said +almost joyously: "I shall ride in Alferd's new motor-'bus wi' proper +pride now, feeling sure that God A'mighty called me to do so." + +Alfred beamed. Fancy, he perceived, had "made a hit." It might be +prudent to take her away, and run no risks. If he and she resumed their +walk, the elder women would discuss her handsomely. A favourable first +impression might become indelible. He got up: + +"If you feel good and ready, Miss Broomfield, we might take the road +again." + +"She be tired out," declared Mrs. Yellam. "Anybody but a man'd see that. +You let Miss Broomfield bide along wi' us, Alferd; she can bide so long +as she's a mind to." + +This was disconcerting both for Alfred and Fancy. Happily for them, Mrs. +Mucklow espied an opening for contradiction. She exclaimed derisively: + +"What a notion, askin' a young maid to bide along wi' two old women, +when every bird i' the trees is a-singing to his mate. But 'tis true, +Miss Broomfield be leg-weary, after climbing our hills. Take her down +river, Alferd. Do 'ee borrow the miller's boat." + +"That I will," said Alfred. "And glad he'll be to oblige me, too. Come +on, miss. 'Tis only a step to the mill." + +The pair vanished. The elder women looked at each other. + +Mrs. Mucklow said slowly: + +"I be flambergasted, Susan." + +"So be I." + +"A very pretty, modest maid." + +"Alferd might do worse; I allows that." + +"So do I, Susan." + +Mrs. Yellam hesitated, and then said slowly: + +"Alferd be fair daffy about her, that's a fact. Miffed as I may well be +at his choosin' a sweetheart who looks, seemin'ly, as if a puff o' +wind'd blow her bang out o' parish, I sticks to what I says, the boy +might ha' done worse." + +"Boy, indeed! He be a man." + +"'Tis true. And the multiplication-table, one might say, be made for him +rather than her. Alfred did tell me las' night that an auntie, on her +mother's side, bore twins twice. But as to that, we women be all in God +A'mighty's hands." + +"Then Alferd have told 'ee as he wants her?" + +"Don't 'ee repeat it. He have." + +"Then he'll get her. A big strong feller like that feels wonnerful +cuddlesome when he comes acrost they delicate, abstemious females. 'Tis +as sartain as we be sitting here that he'll put the question in his own +good time." + +Mrs. Yellam sighed. + +"We be on the skirts o' great happenings. If 'tis the Lard's Will, I +have nothing to say." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +LE PAYS DU TENDRE + + +During the month that followed, Fancy was very happy. Time stands still +for true lovers. Past and future seem immensely remote; the present, +with its rosy hours, holds captive the happy prisoners. Alfred, it is +true, had not yet put his fate to more than the touch. He had encircled +a slender waist with a reassuringly strong arm--no more. Being a Yellam +and a carrier, he disdained haste. Fancy was well content to stroll arm +in crook towards the altar. Indeed, upon more than one occasion she had +checked Alfred when about to explode into speech. Behind this +procrastination lay a maiden's quickening sense of the passion she had +provoked. Men whom she regarded as "devils" had accused her of being +prim and cold. She happened to be neither, but it delighted her to think +that she inspired restraint in her lover, that he treated her with a +delicacy less rare in big strong men than is generally supposed. His dry +humour appealed to her, and the rude Doric of this remote Wiltshire +village brought many a smile to lips that grew redder as kissing-time +drew near. As yet Alfred had not kissed her, although he had kissed the +_others_ many times. She gleaned this information from her fellow-maids, +who were very sympathetic and, apparently, more impatient for a +satisfactory consummation than the protagonists themselves. + +Meanwhile, Alfred was learning how to drive a motor, and becoming +acquainted, very slowly but surely, with the "insides" of the great +beast. Already he regarded it as human, and of the same sex as Fancy. He +would say: + +"She was ramping and roaring yesterday afternoon and spitting black +smoke at me. But when I coax her, she purrs sweet as any pussy-cat." + +Lively chaff was exchanged between the lovers upon fortunes told by real +ladies, which turned out wrong. Fancy, however, still pinned her faith +to an old pack of cards in her possession, and to appease her Alfred +began to speak of himself as a soldier. When Fancy confided this to +Molly, she said maliciously: "Soldier, eh? Well, he ain't one o' the +'onward' sort, is he?" Fancy divined that Alfred would speak when the +motor-'bus was delivered; and there were moments when she asked herself +anxiously which of the two "hers" he loved the better. + +Toward the end of July, her mind was set at rest upon this point. After +the first walk to the downs, Alfred discovered that Fancy tired easily, +although her alert little mind remained active and indefatigable. His +own brains moved slowly; frequently he was unable to follow the maid's +divagations and speculations. For example, he had asked her soberly what +she intended to mean by the expression a "poor soul," an expression used +by him in an entirely different sense. + +"You came nigh upsetting Mother," he told her. "Dang me, if she didn't +think 'twas a biff at her." + +"I meant a lean soul." + +"Whatever may that be, dear?" + +Always, when these problems presented themselves for solution, Fancy +would hesitate and blush a little, which hugely delighted Alfred, who +set himself the pleasant task of framing questions during his drives to +and from Salisbury to be answered on the next Sunday. + +Having taken time to collect her powers of speech, Fancy said solemnly: + +"Some rich people as well as poor have lean souls." + +"Rich people? Do you know any rich people?" + +"No, but David says so." + +"David? You don't mean David Mucklow? He's a pore soul, sure enough." + +"I was speaking of King David, who wrote the Psalms. When people's +bodies wax fat with riches, their souls grow lean." + +Alfred nodded, feeling slightly uncomfortable. He weighed an honest +fifteen stone. + +"Ah-h-h! They wax so fat that they stick in the Narrer Gate?" + +"Yes; I suppose so." + +Alfred considered this, frowning. Then his face brightened. + +"I see you slipping through that Gate like a lozenge." + +"Oh, please don't say that! 'Tis a figure of speech, Mr. Yellam. Thin +people may have lean souls. I sometimes think that my soul is lean, when +I lie awake thinking of--of----" + +"Of what, dear?" + +"Of myself, and what I want for myself." + +"What do you want?" + +"Lots and lots of things." + +She evaded further questions, arousing a keener curiosity. Her +elusiveness frightened him. He couldn't understand anybody lying awake +after an honest day's toil. He tried to picture her lying sleepless, +with her luminous eyes gazing into the darkness. Did she think of him? +Did she really want him as he wanted her? The mere thought of her frail +little body aroused a strange reverence. His mother was right. A puff of +wind would blow her out of parish, blow her out of sight, blow her bang +through the Narrow Gate. And feeling this, with the stabbing, +ever-recurring reflection that she was the least fleshly of mortal women +whom he knew, he would not willingly have added half a cubit to her +stature or half a pound to her weight. In his eyes, she was just right. + +Upon a never-to-be-forgotten Sunday, much rain had fallen. Fancy, who, +like most servants, wore too thin shoes, perpetrated a mild joke: + +"'Twill be dryer on the river than on land, Alfred." + +For some time they had called each other by their Christian names. + +"You're right, Fancy." + +The motor-'bus, gloriously red-and-yellow, shining like a sunset, had +been brought homealong the night before. Alfred shewed it to Fancy, +expatiating upon its superlative merits and beauties till Fancy's +jealousy was kindled afresh. Oddly enough, urban though the girl was and +advanced in her ideas, she felt as Mrs. Yellam did about machinery. +Whirring wheels and roarings and rampings aroused queer qualms in her. +Alfred took out the heavy silver watch which had belonged to his father, +and balanced it on the radiator. Then he proceeded to "race" the engine, +although he had been advised not to do so. The watch never quivered, but +Fancy did. She put her hands to her small ears, and ejaculated: + +"O-h-h!" + +"What's the matter?" + +When the engine was purring gently, Fancy confessed that noise upset +her. Pistols, for example, discharged suddenly in places of +entertainment, made her jump. Alfred said derisively: + +"What a rare wife for a soldier!" + +"I thought 'twas going to explode, yes, I did." + +"Not she. 'Tis a beautiful 'bus, and, maybe, she'll carry me and +mine"--he glanced at her now pensive face--"to fame and fortune." + +With this hope animating his heart and voice, Alfred spoke at length, +and with impressive deliberation, mapping out a golden future. Already +he had made arrangements to transport passengers to Salisbury, likely +boys and girls anxious to attend the High School. He predicted an +ever-increasing traffic and the almost immediate necessity of running +two 'buses and engaging an assistant. + +"Maybe such a job would suit a young woman I know, Miss Fancy +Broomfield." + +Fancy hastened to assure him that such ambitions soared high above her +disabilities. Alfred continued, waxing very eloquent, letting loose +amazing phrases, setting forth prospects which must please and allure +his listener, talking at her so persistently that Fancy became +frightened. + +"Alfred," she said, entreatingly, "don't make so sure of things." + +"'Tis in my hand." + +"I mind poor Father's plans, and that makes me nervous when you race on +so." + +"What about his plans?" + +"He'd a nice business, shoeing the carriage horses of the quality. He +never did fancy rough work. But it went to bits, when motoring came in. +That lay back of his poor health. We never know what'll happen." + +"I say we do. God Almighty helps them as helps themselves. I'm helping +myself to a large spoonful, but I can down it, and more too." + +Undeterred and undismayed by her protestations, he rushed on gaily, as +if driving his 'bus at excess speed. To Fancy he seemed to be whirling +out of sight altogether. Nevertheless she guessed that this +nerve-racking, soul-jolting excursion into the future was presented as a +joy-ride for her. + +"If you ain't careful," she warned him, "you'll fetch up in Buckingham +Palace." + +At this derisive quip, he jammed on brakes, regaining her sympathy with +the grim remark: + +"Or in a ditch. You're right, my girl. 'Tis a fool as toots his own +horn. Let's say good-bye to the old van." + +The van stood derelict at the back of the shed; the stout horses had +been sold at a fair price. Alfred locked up the door of the shed and +glanced dubiously at the grey skies. The afternoon promised fine +weather, but the grass in the park was sopping. Being a true Yellam, +Alfred had made elaborate plans; he had chosen the spot where he meant +to propose, a bosky nook in one of the smaller plantations, hard by a +tiny stream, where ferns grew luxuriantly. In this sanctuary Fancy might +be persuaded to take off her hat and gloves. Then, after due +preliminaries, the man would have his way with the maid. He felt full of +poetry, and quite incapable of expressing it. + +"Wet as water it be underfoot," he growled. + +And then Fancy made her small joke. Alfred jumped at the suggestion. +Twenty minutes later, they were floating upon the quiet bosom of the +Avon, where the river widened above the mill. + +"Perfectly lovely," murmured Fancy. + +Alfred nodded, with a heart too full for speech. The sight of his red +face amused the maid. She knew well enough what was simmering beneath a +too stolid exterior. He pulled up-stream with short, jerky strokes, +effective but not elegant. His jacket lay across Fancy's knees, a +protection against splashings. White shirt-sleeves bulged with big +muscles. They were heading for a small willow-covered eyot, really--as +Alfred reflected--a more secluded spot than the bosky dell. He could +push the boat through the reeds and bulrushes and find snug harbourage +under the willows. + +He did so. + +Secure from prying eyes, they sat together, side by side, at the bottom +of the boat. Alfred slipped an arm round Fancy's waist, and pressed her +to him. He wondered whether she would remain cool and calm, when the +burning question was asked. With huge satisfaction he noticed that her +bosom just heaved beneath her thin blouse. On this blouse rested a tiny +gold locket which held the portrait of her sailor brother. Alfred had +never seen this locket palpitate before. His own heart thumped almost +indecorously at the sight. Stealing a glance at her face, he saw that +she was blushing. The silence was so delicious that he hated to break +it--and didn't. Certain carefully-prepared phrases whirled out of his +mind. + +"My!" exclaimed Fancy. + +"What is it, dear?" + +"A big water-rat!" + +"So 'tis. I don't blame him for wishing to have a look at you." + +The rat behaved charmingly, peering down at them from the bank, ready to +dive into his hole, if the trespassers upon his domain moved. + +"He ain't afraid," said Alfred; "but I am." + +Fancy said hastily: + +"Don't move! What bright eyes he has, to be sure." + +"No brighter than others I know." + +"Shush-h-h! There! He's gone. I wanted to see him stroke his whiskers. I +wonder whether he be a gentleman rat or a lady rat?" + +This happy remark provided a new opening. Alfred said with authority: + +"He's a buck rat. He didn't feel frightened, but I reckon he'd told his +missis and the little 'uns that he'd just take a squint at a notable +couple, and come back. I'll wager a new hat, he's telling 'em a fine +tale." + +"For all you know he may be an old bachelor." + +"Ah! Rats are wiser than we. And Nature is kinder to them. 'Tis no big +business for them to get to house-keeping. When they're good and ready, +they go at it--slam bang." + +"Yes. Animals don't want much." + +Alfred pressed her a little closer. + +"Take off hat and gloves, Fancy." + +"Why?" + +"'Tis a notion I have." + +She smiled faintly, and obeyed. Alfred eyed the hat, a simple affair, +home-made. The gloves were of white silkette. Everything she wore seemed +to be part of herself, dainty, ephemeral, easily crushed and soiled. + +"Put your dear head on my shoulder. 'Twill be more cosy." + +She hesitated, and did so. Her palely-pink cheek lay close to his lips. +He said solemnly: + +"I mind what you said, Fancy, about lying awake nights, wanting lots and +lots of things. Tell me about the things you want." + +"I c-c-can't." + +Her voice had sunk to an attenuated whisper. He realised that she was +trembling, and his own pulses throbbed with hers. He continued, more +fluently, pressing her tighter to him: + +"Are you wanting grand things?" + +"Oh, no. Whatever made you think so?" + +"Because, dear, there is something grand about you. It mazes me, when I +think on't in my everyday way. You're Parson's parlourmaid, thank the +Lord! and I'm a plain carrier, with no book-learning and rough manners. +'Tis like this, Fancy. I'm of the earth, and you're a lil' angel. +'Twouldn't surprise me to find wings growing on your dear back." + +He touched her back gently, to make sure. It was satisfactory to find +that wings, as yet, had not sprouted. + +"I'm only a silly girl, Alfred." + +He repeated obstinately: + +"You're grand. I reckon 'tis your soul which comes nigh to busting your +dinky body. Now, Fancy, what do you think about, nights?" + +Direct in all things, it never occurred to Alfred that a modest girl +might shrink from answering such a question in the sincere spirit which +put it. She smiled sweetly: + +"When we talked about that, Alfred, I was thinking amongst other things +of...." + +"Yes, dear?" + +"That hat." She pointed a slim finger at it. "I wanted that hat ever so, +because I saw one very like it on the pretty head of Mrs. Lionel +Pomfret. I wrote a long letter to Father, telling him where to buy the +straw and the trimmings. You like it, don't you?" + +"I never saw a prettier hat, but I like best the head as bobs under it." + +"It cost me four-and-eight; not a penny more." + +"Wonderful you be with your needle. Go on, Fancy. I reckon that hats +ain't all you think about." + +"I think about Willie, tossing in his great ship." + +A consuming envy of Willie, the sailor brother, assailed Alfred, but no +suitable phrase occurred to him. Fancy continued: + +"Most of the time, Alfred, my thoughts are with poor Father. He does +miss me." + +"I'll be bound he does." + +"He enjoys such miserable health. He's a real farrier, doctors horses as +well as shoes 'em. And he takes his own medicine. I used to water it +down, unbeknown to him." + +"Horse medicine? That's moving stuff. Looks as if your thoughts, dear, +never rambled far from the family." + +"Oh, yes, they do. I think a lot, Alfred, about the future." + +This was more encouraging. + +"So do I; so do I." + +"If anything happened to Father or Willie, where would I be?" + +Alfred replied happily: + +"I don't know where you would be, but I can tell you where you might +be." + +His eager voice beguiled her, but she resisted its pleading. + +"I might be almost alone in the world. My two sisters are married. They +live in small houses. There wouldn't be room for me. I like this place, +but, oh, dear! some places be awful. It's selfish to think of myself, +but I can't help it." + +"'Tis a heartsome thing to think about. I think about you, Fancy, when I +drive slow along our roads. You fill my mind, you do." + +He hoped fervently that she would say what he wanted and confess +outright that she let some of her thoughts dwell on him. But again the +poor fellow was grievously disappointed. She murmured confusedly: + +"How funny!" + +"Funny be damned!" + +"Alfred----!" + +"I don't care. I'm moved as if I'd taken your father's horse medicine. +You're raking me up with a small tooth-comb. If I think of you all the +time, 'twould seem fair that you'd think of me some of the time." + +"Perhaps I do." + +"Ah-h-h! That's better. We're coming to grips." + +As if contradicting this, the aggravating witch raised her head. Alfred +grew desperate. Had he been browsing in a fool's paradise? The thought +palsied speech. He spoke angrily: + +"I see how 'tis. You lie awake shaking with laughter, thinking what I +fool I am." + +"Gracious! If you talk like that, I shall think so." + +"I am a fool about you. 'Tis a fact. I ain't ashamed on't." + +"Folks say...." She hesitated; her eyes twinkled demurely, but he +couldn't see them. + +"Well, what do folks say?" + +"That you're a oner with girls, on and off like." + +"On and off? You're throwing big Eliza at my head. If I was a true +soldier man, always bragging about my victorious marches with women, I +might tell you 'twas t'other way about. Being only a timorsome carrier, +and a lover of God Almighty's truth, I say this. Eliza scairt the +gizzard out of me, she did. I fair ran away from her audacious, +ungenteel attacks. Now you have it." + +Fancy laughed. Alfred fumed on, beside himself with love and impatience. + +"I've walked out with many maids, some not so maidenly as might be. I'm +a picker and chooser, getting that much sense from my mother. I never +walked long with any of 'em. If you'd happened along fifteen years ago, +when the first petticoat hit me in eye, I'd have remained true and +faithful to you--so help me God!" + +She remained silent, twisting her fingers. He said hoarsely: + +"I want you desperately for my wife, Fancy Broomfield. And you know it, +being a clever maid. Now--don't you want me?" + +He felt her body relaxing, almost slipping from him. Then, very slowly, +she lifted her eyes to his, and he read in their luminous depths the +blessed answer which her quivering lips withheld. + +He kissed her reverently and tenderly. + +To his surprise and delight, she kissed him, clinging to him, and +whispering pantingly: + +"You'll be kind to me, Alfred; I know you will. I'm such a poor wife for +the likes of you. Your mother thinks so, and your Aunt Jane." + +"You can twist them round your lil' finger." + +"I believe you love your motor-'bus more than me." + +"What a notion! Now I'm going to kiss such foolishness out of you. If it +ain't gone when I've given you the first big dose, why, I must begin all +over again." + +The river lapped its approval against the sides of the old boat. A sedge +warbler looked on with his tiny head on one side. The tall reeds nodded. +The sun peeped from behind a cloud and shot a golden shaft upon the +pair. Why do we think of the orbed maiden, the Moon, as being kinder to +lovers than the great god of day, which warms and fructifies? Upon this +artless pair he poured generously his vivifying beams. Suddenly the +willows sparkled with diamonds, the grey river became a sheet of silver, +the sedge warbler fluted his hymeneal note, and other warblers joined in +the chorus. + +And, far away, in a great palace, men were bending frowning brows over a +vast war-map, gesticulating fiercely, plotting and planning Armageddon. + +But the lovers had their hour. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +UNCLE + + +Everybody in Nether-Applewhite called Habakkuk Mucklow Uncle. + +In all villages remote from what we call civilisation there may be found +men like him, loose-limbed, loose-tongued, easy, pleasure-loving, +quick-witted in what concerns others, strangely slow to grapple with +their own opportunities, always at the mercy of their wives and genially +dependent upon them. Uncle was the best thatcher in the countryside. He +might have been busy all the time, but it was known that he refused +disdainfully the more primitive forms of his work; he never touched +barns or stacks. On the other hand, he was artistically eager to tackle +the decorative thatching which is still to be found in Wiltshire. +Although he was older than his sister, Mrs. Yellam, and past sixty, he +still ran afoot with the hounds, and earned handsome tips as an +independent harbourer of deer. During many years, also, he had been +"beater" to old Captain Davenant, who took out a Forest License from the +Crown which afforded him three days' rough shooting a week, from October +till the end of January. Nobody, in those parts, knew the northern half +of the New Forest better than Habakkuk Mucklow. + +Like all his family, he was an upstanding fellow, a six-footer, and +finely proportioned, with a cheerful red face, cleanly-shaven save for a +wisp of grey whisker which he sported high on his cheek after the +fashion adopted by the Iron Duke, whom Habakkuk venerated as the +greatest of Englishmen. Had you told him that his hero came from +Ireland, he would not have believed it. + +Uncle loved creature comforts, and could carry more strong ale without +showing it than any man in the parish. Very wisely he had married Jane +Rockley who, in her time, had served a long apprenticeship at Pomfret +Court as scullery-maid and then kitchen-maid, becoming, finally, cook in +that handsome establishment. Jane Mucklow ruled Habakkuk through his +stomach, and he was well aware of this, and rebelled constantly against +what he considered to be an abuse of power. + +"Womenfolk," he would remark, "don't wage honourable warfare. They hits +below the belt, they do. When my old 'ooman gets miffed wi' me, I +notices a tremenjous difference in my victuals." + +Uncle had pipeclay in his marrow. During his hot youth he had taken the +Queen's shilling after a poaching affair, and served some five years +with the colours of the county regiment. He had not seen active service, +but he allowed strangers to believe that he was a great warrior. +Possibly, the discipline of the parade ground had made him swear to take +life easily for the rest of his days. + +Captain Davenant spoke of him as a "character." The word "card" was not +known in Nether-Applewhite. + +Uncle loved two persons nearly as much as himself--his sister, Susan, +and his nephew, Alfred. When the news of Alfred's engagement became +known to him, he expressed great interest and pleasure, drinking the +health of prospective groom and bride in much ale and cider. Alfred +brought the blushing Fancy to Uncle's cottage, and received the +felicitations which the good looks of the young woman warranted. + +Uncle had sentimental views about the married state not shared by his +wife. As he kissed Fancy, he said solemnly: + +"'Tis a great venture. We all likes a dip into the lucky bag. And it do +seem to me, Alferd, as you've pulled a prize." + +Mrs. Mucklow sniffed. She, too, kissed Fancy, but uttered a warning +note: + +"Marriage ain't what some folks crack it up to be, my girl. But I've not +a word agen courtship. Your uncle, as is to be, follered me about like a +dog for three years, and I own up truthful 'twas the happiest time o' my +life." + +Uncle laughed cheerily. + +"I be your old dog still, Jane, and allers ready for a bone." + +Mrs. Mucklow nodded, looking whimsically at Fancy. + +"You hear that, my girl? 'Tis the bone they look for. A man's heart lies +in his stomach. Feed up Alferd so long as he behaves himself. I says +nothing about the power o' prayer, seein' as generally speaking my most +powerful prayers ain't been answered as I could wish, but fasting do +wonnerful work, especially wi' men." + +Uncle laughed again. + +Marriage, however, seemed reasonably remote. Fancy wished to "make good" +in her new place. Alfred, very comfortable at home, intended to work +hard for a year at least, laying the solid foundations of a business +likely to be bigger than he had ever dreamed it to be. Mrs. Yellam, +moreover, had spoken plainly and sensibly to her son. + +"She be a sweet maid, Alferd, but tarribly spindlin', a slip o' muslin, +and young for her years." + +"Twenty-two, Mother." + +"I knows that. And I minds that her mother died, pore soul, when Fancy +was born. A bottle-baby; and I never did hold wi' that. Don't 'ee look +so glum. She be plumper a'ready. Pa'son give his maids good plain food, +and our air blowing over downs be better nor strong ale for such as +she." + +"You do love her, Mother?" + +"In course I do, and I'm doing my duty by her and you when I tells 'ee +that she ain't marriage-ripe, nor likely to be for many months to come. +If I was only thinking o' myself, my son, I'd be laying out your wedding +sheets this day. Squire and me has many things in common, and this afore +all: we likes to see red-cheeked little 'uns coming on." + +"You're a wonderful, farseeing woman. Fair aching I am for her, the +pretty dear, but wait we must for matrimonial joys, and wait we shall. +That's certain." + +To his surprise, she laid her strong hands upon his shoulder and kissed +him solemnly: demonstrations rare indeed with her, which provoked +surprise. + +"Why, Mother!" + +She said slowly: + +"You be all I have, Alferd, and a son to be proud of as never was. I be +farseein'. 'Tis a gift o' God. Biding for happiness, in the right +Christian spirit, generally brings it, but not allers, not allers." + +With a sigh she turned to her daily work, and he went, thoughtfully, to +his. + +July glided away peacefully. Wars and rumours of wars reached few ears +in Nether-Applewhite. The possibility of civil war in Ireland disturbed +Mr. Hamlin and provoked to wrath Sir Geoffrey Pomfret; the villagers +remained blandly indifferent to anything outside the sphere of their own +interests and activities. + +With the one exception of Uncle. + +Perhaps that old war-horse--for so he deemed himself to be--nosed from +afar the coming battles. More than likely, he picked up chance words +dropped by Captain Davenant, once a Guardsman, who rented two miles of +fishing on the Avon, preserves under Uncle's watchful eye. The Captain +predicted war with Germany as inevitable. Uncle, like his wife, could be +trusted to repeat what he heard with sundry additions peculiarly his +own. In the ale-house, he told his cronies what he knew and much more. + +"'Twill be a nice bloody how-dy-do; and it mads me to think that time, +as the saying goes, have laid me by the heels. The Kayser be bent on the +job, and have been ever since they ancient days, which I recalls right +well, when he licked the Frenchies. A rare doin' he give 'em, to be +sure." + +An old gaffer answered promptly, voicing, unwittingly, the general +opinion: + +"'Tain't none of our affair. I be sick to my stomach wi' such +flustratious talk. We English be the mightiest people on earth because +we minds our own business. I don't think nothing o' foreigners; they be, +one and all, so wonderful peevish." + +Uncle smiled genially. + +"Minds our own business, do us? I bain't so cocky-sure o' that, old +friend. Speaking up for myself, and bigger fools have spoken in this +ale-house, I be sartain sure that good money comes my way through +minding other folks' business. I was never one to think of myself." + +"What a tale!" + +"The Captain be a dry old stick, but cracklin' wi' ripe wisdom, as I be. +And he's seen the world, as I have. Stay-at-home folk never look further +than their back-yards. I takes a very wide view. Me and Lord Roberts +have sized up this yere Kayser for what he be, a very bumptious, +slambang, bold pirate, a Grab-all as must be put in his place by we. And +why? Because 'tis our duty and privilege to keep proper order. We had to +down Krooger." He trolled out lustily: + + "Good old Krooger's dead. + He cut 'is throat + Wi' a piece o' soap. + Good old Krooger's dead." + +"I'll drink one more glass o' ale afore I go homealong. Yes, my +respectable, church-goin' friends, we be on the eve o' such battles as +never was. And I couldn't hold up head amongst proper men, if I thought +old England'd keep out o' the scrap. I practises what I preaches. I've +three big sons--fair whoppers. If wanted, I'll see to it that they be +amongst the first to go, and wi' all my honest, generous soul I wish I +could go along wi' en." + +The publican, William Saint, who served the ale, said sharply: + +"Your sons, Uncle, may have something to say about that." + +Uncle stared at him disdainfully. William Saint was of +Nether-Applewhite, but he had begun a prosperous career as a footman at +Pomfret Court. Uncle despised lackeys in his heart. And he detested what +he termed "quality talk" from people who were not quality. William Saint +spoke mincingly, which indicated cant and prosperity. He was accused, +not without reason, of holding radical views, although, being a +time-server, he voted Conservative in accordance with the Squire's +wishes. Nevertheless, Saint was not a man to be ignored or taken +lightly. His tavern, the _Sir John Barleycorn_, did not engross all his +activities. He had many small irons in the fire, bought and sold horses, +dealt in corn and hay, and farmed a few acres of land. In appearance, he +somewhat resembled Napoleon: the same massive jaw, the thin lips, the +pale complexion and brooding brow. Under his management a small +ale-house was becoming a rival of the principal inn, the _Pomfret Arms_. +He catered for a better class of customer than his predecessor. And he +saw possibilities in a tavern, happily situated in the middle of the +village, overlooking the Avon, a comfortable house of call, clean +outwardly and within, heavily-thatched, picturesque enough to catch the +eye and beguile the fancy of the ubiquitous motorist. + +Uncle drank his ale before he answered Saint. The mighty draught +restored his good-humour. + +"May be. I listens to all men, and suffers fools and knaves as gladly as +King Solomon. The Kayser be spoiling for a big fight wi' we. You be on +the side o' peace, William Saint, and there's many to keep 'ee company. +I don't blame 'ee. 'Tis your ignorance. The country be full o' just such +men as you, wi' their eyes glued to their own tills, and counters, +mindin' their own business, pore souls! and puffed up wi' conceit." He +paused and concluded impressively: "We be tee-totally unprepared, and +there be millions over yonder a-waiting and a-longing to stick us like +so many fat hogs. I wish 'ee, one and all, good-night." + +Uncle cocked his bowler--a genuine Billy Coke hat, with Lock's +historical name on a much-soiled lining (the bowler had belonged to +Captain Davenant)--at a martial angle, and strode to his cottage, +whistling Garryowen. When out with the fox-hounds, he wore a stained red +coat, another sometime hartog of the Captain's, surmounting well-cut +breeches and gaiters, once again part of a generous employer's wardrobe. +He was wearing the breeches and gaiters to-day, but his mind had +wandered from sport to war. Tremendous military ardour possessed him. By +the luck of things, on leaving the ale-house, he encountered Lionel +Pomfret returning from fishing. Lionel had a great affection for Uncle, +although he knew him to be a poacher on the sly. Uncle hailed him with +respectful geniality, reasonably assured that five minutes' talk with +t'young Squire meant more war news and a shining half-crown. On such +occasions he employed a formula, rarely known to fail to open either +hearts or purses. + +"How well 'ee look, Master Lionel! And Lard bless 'ee, I was thinkin' of +'ee as you turned carner. Any fish this fine evening?" + +Lionel Pomfret opened his creel and displayed a nice brace and a half. +But Uncle was in no mood to talk of trout. He had more notable fish to +fry. + +"What be they Frenchies doing, sir?" + +Lionel answered gravely: + +"I hear that twenty thousand Germans have been repulsed at Nancy, but I +don't believe it, Uncle." + +"No more don't I, Master Lionel. These be troublous times." + +Lionel nodded. + +"Be we coming in?" + +"Damn it, we can't keep out." + +"What I says exzactly. The Rads be kickin' up a fine hullabaloo--a very +dirty, timorsome lot. And bound to crawl down the pole bimeby." + +"France is invaded," said Lionel. + +"Quick work, sir." + +"Quick? After forty years' elaborate preparation? This thing is horribly +serious, Uncle. I'm wondering what they think about it in the village." + +"I can tell 'ee, no man better. 'Tis none o' their business, they +thinks. Such shameless ignerunce makes wiser folk value their wisdom. I +happened into the _Sir John Barleycorn_ just afore seein' you, sir. I'd +a matter o' business wi' William Saint." + +Not for wealth untold would Uncle have admitted that he visited an +ale-house to drink ale. Lionel smiled. He knew his man. + +"Very thirsty evening, too, Uncle." + +"I bain't denying that, Master Lionel. And I did take a glass o' what +they calls ale there for the good o' the house. We fell to talkin'. I +made bold to tell 'em what me and Lord Roberts felt about that there +Kayser. And it miffed 'em. I could see that. And the less they pore +souls says the more they thinks. They be chewin' my cud now. But what do +'ee really think, sir?" + +Lionel laughed, not wholeheartedly. He was a six months' bridegroom. + +"I think, Uncle, that inside of a fortnight I shall be at my depot in +Winchester, drilling recruits." + +"Lard save us! And you wi' so young and be-utiful a wife!" + +"Sir Geoffrey thinks as I do. There is going to be a terrific strain on +the manhood of this country. Will it stand that strain?" + +"I thinks it will, Master Lionel, so be as they chin-wobblin' +politicians keeps their dirty fingers out o' pie. I'd like to march wi' +'ee to Winchester, and overseas, too, by Jo'!" + +Lionel nodded. A minute later Uncle strode on his way with the expected +half-crown snug in his breeches' pocket. He told himself that he had +earned it. + +When he reached his cottage, he found George, the youngest of his three +sons, just back from the woods, where he worked as a hurdler at this +time of year. The other sons were married and established in cottages of +their own. Jane Mucklow was busy preparing the eight o'clock hot supper. +An agreeable odour filled the kitchen. Uncle kicked the dust off his +boots and entered the house, with George at his heels. The good smell of +baked pork provoked, as usual, a pleasant word. Indeed, Habakkuk Mucklow +had discovered very early in life that soft words do butter parsnips. + +"Well, Mother, you looks very sanitary, and what a colour!" + +"Got, as you well knows, from stewin' over a fire. Been painting your +nose wi' ale, or worse, I reckons." + +Uncle stroked his nose. + +"'Tis a very handsome feature, Jane, and allers a true friend to your +good cookin'. I met Master Lionel in village street, and let 'un know +what a wise man was thinking about the times. Agreed wi' every word, he +did. I told 'un he'd be called to jine up again in Winchester inside o' +fortnit. Like as not Garge here'll be wearin' out shoe-leather in some +barrack-yard afore he's much older." + +Mrs. Mucklow stared at him, paralysed by astonishment. George, being the +most interested party, said heavily: + +"Not if I knows meself." + +"I say, Garge, as you'll enlist if they want 'ee." + +"They won't want the likes o' me." + +Jane Mucklow said sharply: + +"Don't you go upsettin' the boy wi' your ridiculous war-talk, Father. He +come nigh on leavin' us to freeze to death in Canady. Why should we +fight to save they Frenchies?" + +Uncle grinned and chuckled. + +"Ah-h-h! I've a notion about that. I told 'un to the old Captain, and he +said 'twas a very notable remark. Fight we shall and must to save our +own souls and bodies." + +George opened a wide mouth; his mother laughed scornfully. + +"Never heard o' the British Fleet, I suppose?" + +Uncle smiled. Such a smile might have been seen upon the face of Ulysses +after his wanderings, when Penelope asked foolish question. + +"Mother, I've seen they mighty ships o' war, which is what you can't +brag on. But more'n our Fleet were wanted afore, in the days o' +Bonaparty, and will be again. You mind that bit o' pork, and leave young +Garge to me." + +He gave undivided attention to George; the pleasant smile faded from his +face. His likeness to his sister came out. + +"Be you afeard, Garge?" + +George pulled himself together. + +"I be bold as brass, except wi' maids." + +"That any son o' mine should own up to that! Afeard wi' maids! What a +gert booby! I be afeard _for_ maids, if so be as they Proosians come +rampin' into France. And 'tis true they be over the line a'ready." + +"How do 'ee know that?" asked his wife. + +"Never you mind, Mother. I picks up my information as you does, here and +there. I told Master Lionel as how France was invaded, and he gave me +half-a-crown, he did." + +Uncle produced the half-crown as confirmation strong. George was much +impressed. + +"You earns money in wondersome ways, Father." + +"I do. Now, Garge, I tell 'ee, fair and square, the likes o' you'll be +wanted bad, and, mark my words, my lad, if you don't go willin' they'll +take 'ee whether or no. I forgot to mention it to Master Lionel, but +talk o' conscription be in the air." + +"Stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Mucklow. + +Uncle, fully alive to the advantage of leaving people to chew the cud of +his wisdom, went outside to smoke a pipe before supper. He walked down +the village street, carrying a high head and assuming the port of Mars. +Bugles sounded in his ears, and the steady tramp of marching men. He had +picked up the significant and terrifying word "conscription" from +Captain Davenant, who asked for nothing better. Uncle had agreed with +the Captain heartily, being very sensible of what drill had accomplished +for himself, much as he hated it at the time. He thought of George as +clay to the hand of a sergeant, not as cannon fodder. "Afeard wi' +maids!" What a confession! + +He was not in the mood to engage others in talk, lumping all his +neighbours together as a flock of silly snivelling sheep, sadly in need +of a shepherd. For the first time in his life he paid the penalty of +being a prophet, and felt strangely alone and unhonoured. + +Suddenly he bethought him of his sister Susan. He had half-an-hour to +spare before supper. She would be busy in her kitchen, but never too +busy to exchange a word with him. Alfred would be still on the road. He +strode along more briskly. Susan was the one person living with whom +Uncle was really himself, at best or worst a very simple, +straightforward soul. He had never posed before her and--what a tribute +to her character!--in her rather austere presence he avoided those +whimsical perversions of the truth which so exasperated his wife. To a +woman of brains he bowed the knee. Also, he was gratefully aware of +Susan's enduring affection for him. + +He wondered how she would take his news, for news it would be, that the +Squire and Master Lionel were grimly confronting the certainty of +England declaring war upon Germany. Susan read her _Daily Mail_, but not +with any great faith in what newspaper men said. Having a singularly +retentive memory, she prided herself upon collating contradictory +statements made by irresponsible writers. Such critical powers were not +exercised upon the Bible. Apparent discrepancies in the Holy Book could +be, and were (so she held) reconciled by surpliced commentators. + +Susan, so Uncle reflected, would deal out strong doses of commonsense, +which her brother, after due absorption, could in his turn distribute +generously amongst the weak-kneed. There were moments when pity for his +fellow-men overbrimmed in Uncle's heart, and filled him with an +amorphous, inherent melancholy. He could rise to giddy heights of mirth +and fall from them into unplumbed depths of depression. Susan, as he +knew, stood solidly between these extremes. + +He was in the melancholy mood when he entered her kitchen. + +"Well, Susan, there be a nice bit o' pork frizzlin' in our oven, but I +be in sore need o' spiritual nourishment." + +"Whatever ails 'ee, Habakkuk?" + +"'Tis the crool thought o' weepin' maids and mothers throughout the +land, as robs me o' my appetite." + +For the moment Uncle spoke with absolute sincerity. The thought of a +nation in mourning had not entered his mind till he crossed the +threshold of the Yellam cottage. But he accepted it as illuminating. +And, instantly, his imagination draped the idea in deepest crepe. + +"Be you speaking o' French maids and mothers?" + +"Being the man I am, I counts 'em all in wi' us. 'Tis cut-and-dried, as +the saying goes. Old England takes the field." + +Susan Yellam said drily: + +"Old England takes the field. Well, dearie, you take a chair and tell us +all about it." + +Incredulity was written plain upon her face. Uncle opened fire at +point-blank range. + +"Sir Gaffrey says so, Susan. Master Lionel be hot-foot for Winchester, +to drill recruities." + +The shot went home. Mrs. Yellam's florid face paled. She had +deliberately put from her the dreadful possibility. But if Sir Geoffrey +said so, it was so. The blood left her face, because her first thought +had been for the gracious lady of the Manor, and the young wife, two +women very dear to her. As the colour came back to her cheeks, she +reflected that she, personally, was not involved in these fearful +issues. Mr. Lionel was a professional soldier. Wife or no wife, a +Pomfret would do his duty. England's army might have to fight side by +side with the French, and England's army was invincible. + +She said gravely: + +"We be in God A'mighty's hands." + +Uncle sat down, assuming a funereal expression which sat oddly upon his +somewhat comical countenance. He did not share his sister's faith in an +All-wise and Merciful Providence. Strong ale, perhaps, had weakened it, +and over-indulgence in flesh-pots. But he dared not contradict his +sister. + +He fired another shot. + +"Captain Davenant be sartain sure that our noble army be too small for +such a tremenjous affair. He goes further than that, Susan. I wouldn't +deceive 'ee or try to frighten 'ee for a barrel o' ale, but he be +flustratingly positive that we be drawn into the bloodiest war as never +was, and he do say that God A'mighty fights on the side o' the biggest +army. His tarr'ble words, Susan, not mine. There be millions o' +Proosians marchin' into France this very day, and the Captain says they +Frenchies bain't ready for 'em." + +He expected a cooling stream of comfort and a rebuttal of what the +Captain said. If anybody could stand up against so redoubtable a +personage it would be Susan Yellam. She said slowly: + +"The Captain says that our army be too small! The King'll have to call +for--millions?" + +Uncle nodded dolorously. To his utter amazement and confounding, Susan +raised her apron, and covered her face with it. + +The abomination of coming desolation overwhelmed both of them. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +FIRST IMPRESSIONS + + +Uncle was quick, like all practised orators, to realise the effect of +his words not only upon a sister, but upon himself. He emerged from the +depths, as a swimmer after a dive, shaking his head and opening his +mouth to the ambient air. A happy thought occurred to him. + +"Susan," he said, in a more cheerful voice, "I be mazed as you be, but +things bain't so dark as they seem, and I've Squire's own word for it +that figures lie to beat Satan hisself." + +Mrs. Yellam looked at him interrogatively. + +"I be allers, so to speak, a very calkilatin' man, rampaged by Fortin +into makin' sixpence do duty for a shillin'. Now, I asks you this, and I +means to put the question, fair and square, to Captain Davenant +to-morrer marning. 'Tis a common saying that one Englishman be so good +as ten Frenchies in a stand-up fight. That be a very comfortsome +thought, old girl." + +"Which I don't hold wi', for one." + +"Don't 'ee? I wager the half-crown Master Lionel gi' me that you be the +equal o' ten Frenchwomen, and, old as I be, I'd fair scorn to turn back +on any 'arf-dozen furriners. If so be as my calkilatin' ain't out o' +whack, our noble army o' two hundred thousand valiant souls be more'n +equal o' two million Frenchies. And, if that be so, the Germans be up +agen four millions in all. Leastways, if I bain't out in my figurin'." + +Mrs. Yellam smiled faintly. + +"Your figures, Habakkuk, be Satan's figures. I allows that one true +Englishman can down three Frenchies, not more. Men'll be wanted--and +soon." + +Uncle remarked mournfully: + +"Such talk takes away my appetite for cracklin'. I go my ways, dear, +leavin' this mossel o' comfort behind me: they won't be askin' for +widows' only sons. Good-night to 'ee." + +After Uncle's departure Mrs. Yellam busied herself with her work, +pausing now and again to sigh deeply. If Sir Geoffrey Pomfret said that +England was coming in, why, England was in. A doubtful hypothesis became +certainty. And some widows' sons, if she knew her countrymen, would +fight for England, tooth and nail, even if they were not directly asked +to do so. + +Presently Alfred appeared, sharp-set after a good day's business. He +repeated the gossip of the market-place. Russia was going to surprise +the world. England must come in. A greengrocer, on intimate terms with a +lady of quality, had told him as a secret that the Guards were already +embarking for Belgium. Alfred concluded cheerfully: + +"In Salisbury, Mother, 'tis agreed that six weeks'll see the end on't." + +"Captain Davenant be talkin' o' conscription, Alferd." + +"Let him talk. He's a sour man. I put my faith in God Almighty, not in +the likes of him." + +"Ah-h-h!" + +"I say to myself, in all Christian humility, that God Almighty in His +wisdom is fair fed up with the Proosians. Such talk as they use, all +spitting and choking, is quite enough to sicken ordinary folks. 'Tis the +swelled head that this Kayser has. However, wiser men prophesy a rare +uplifting move in trade." + +"Alferd--don't talk o' that. 'Tis more than I can bear to hear o' folks +makin' money out o' the miseries o' others." + +He stared at her, noticing at last her drawn expression. + +"You ain't got the headache, Mother?" + +"No." + +"Wouldn't own up to it, if you had. Something's gnawing at you." + +Very gravely she told him about the young Squire. Alfred's face fell, +thinking of Joyce Pomfret, and then of Fancy. What would that pretty +dear be feeling, if her Alfred was on the march? The light faded from +his rubicund face. Till that moment the possibility of going had never +occurred to him. If England did take a hand in the mighty game, surely +her Army and Fleet would suffice for all eventualities. Suddenly, he +banged the table with his clenched fist, startling his mother. + +"Alferd--!" she exclaimed irritably. + +Alfred hastened to apologise. A confounding thought had begotten a +thoughtless action. He said earnestly: + +"Fancy is a oner for telling fortunes with cards." + +Mrs. Yellam frowned. Cards she held to be playthings of Satan, expressly +invented by him together with strong drink and bad women. Alfred +continued hastily: + +"A lady in Salisbury, real quality, Mother, told Fancy's fortune." + +"Did she? Better be using her needle, I says." + +"No doubt. 'Tis a very odd thing, and food for sober thought, but the +lady did foretell as Fancy'd marry a soldier." + +"A very foolish, mischievous notion to put i' the maid's head." + +Alfred nodded. Then he said portentously: + +"It might come true, Mother, if the pessimists be right." + +"Pessimists?" + +"'Tis a new word to me, and means--crokers, as looks on the dark side of +the cloud." + +"Well, what do they tell 'ee?" + +"'Twas a solitary he. A shoemaker by trade, and a radical. The smell of +leather be enough to account for his politics and gloomy views. When I +take shoes to him, we always pass time o' day, and I come away thinking +'tis just before dawn on a cold, drizzling, November morning. He says to +me: 'My lad, these Proosians may be drinking ale in Salisbury before +this war's over.' I laughed at him. And he told me I'd laugh t'other +side of my face in six months." + +Mrs. Yellam made no comment, a strange abstention. Her firm jaws set +beneath strongly-marked brows, her eyes glowered into the future. Mother +and son finished the meal in silence. + +These things were talked over on Monday, the 2nd of August. + +On the Wednesday all England knew that we were at war with Germany. + +The first effect of this stupendous happening was comical. The banks +were closed; many people found themselves without money and unable to +borrow it. Fishpingle, the bailiff at the Home Farm, had to lend Lionel +Pomfret five pounds to take him to Winchester. Some pessimists predicted +a financial panic. The foreign stock exchanges transacted no business. +All this affected Nether-Applewhite but mildly; tongues wagged a little +faster than usual; very few believed that an Expeditionary Force would +be sent to France. Sir Geoffrey Pomfret walked down to the village and +talked with his people. His jolly face and hearty voice indicated +immense relief. He--and thousands like him--had been tormented by the +fear that a nation stigmatised as shopkeepers would place self-interest +before honour. He writhed when he recalled the cynical gibe of the +Russian to England's ambassador at a time when England did "keep out." +Old Captain Davenant and the Squire were types of men whom the more +Radical press derided as reactionary and fire-eaters. Let the verdict of +history speak for such after the war. Few, to-day, will deny that the +privileged classes with most at stake stood shoulder to shoulder in +their determination to scrap everything except scraps of paper bearing +England's sign-manual. + +The villagers listened agape to Sir Geoffrey and Captain Davenant. Then +each went his way perfectly satisfied that others would dance to war's +pipings and alarums, whilst they "carried on" as before. + +Old Gilbert Parish, a great-granfer, was convinced that war had been +declared with the hereditary foe. He asked Mr. Hamlin shrilly, holding +hand to ear: + +"What I wants to know, Pa'son, be this--whatever shall we do wi' they +Frenchies when us have beat'h 'em?" + +Mr. Hamlin answered gravely: "I suppose we shall have to eat them, +Master Gilbert." + +The nonagenarian displayed toothless gums. + +"Ah-h-h! That's what the Dook said at Waterloo. 'Up, Guards, and eat +'en,' he says. _And they did!_" + +"Was you there, Granfer, on that notable day?" asked a bystander. + +The old fellow cackled joyously. + +"'Tis so far back along, I disremembers. To speak sober truth, my lad, +the Dook won that gert battle wi'out me. 'Tis a fact beyond gainsayin' +that I be here, and hale and hearty, because, maybe, I was not there." + +His humour so tickled him that he hobbled forthwith to the _Sir John +Barleycorn_ to wet a still serviceable whistle. Many followed his +example; the two taverns sold much ale. + +In a miraculously short time village life ambled on as before. The small +boys played at soldiers; some of the more prescient mothers laid in +stores. Lionel Pomfret returned from Winchester with the assurance, hot +from the mouth of the officer commanding the depot, that every regular +would be sent abroad. The Squire was absorbed in the details. Each +officer would be allowed thirty pounds of kit, such kit to be snugly +packed in a pale-green carry-all. It comprised one change, two blankets, +a few surgical dressings, a folding-lamp, a pair of wire-cutters, and +under-linen. The Territorials and Yeomanry would defend our shores. +According to experts, invasion might be deemed practicable, if unlikely. +Next day Lionel went to London, to the War Office. He came back with a +Captain's commission. + +The Government had taken over the railroads, and, at first, trains were +inconveniently belated. Liege was covering herself with imperishable +glory, holding up hordes of Germans. In the rural districts the +comforting impression prevailed that the All-Highest War Lord had gone +stark, staring mad, and that a peace-loving nation would kick him and +his out of the country. Hamlin, reading feverishly papers and reviews, +neglecting, for the first time in his life, parochial duties, rejoiced +in the premature conclusion that there burned no hate in English hearts +against the German people to whom civilisation owed so much. He +adumbrated peace before Christmas, and believed that a world-war would +end war. For a parish priest, he might be reckoned, intellectually, far +above the average. Men of keener and bigger brains shared his views. Sir +Geoffrey Pomfret, as might be expected, thought otherwise. There is no +pessimist like your optimist when he finds that the prognostications of +his less robust moments have come to pass. He said almost truculently to +his wife: + +"It is some comfort to reflect, my dear Mary, that _we_ were right, and +all these axe-grinding demagogues wrong. I could hang Haldane with my +own hand. And I feel in my bones that this is going to be a long +business--a full year at least." + +The Squire was sorely taken aback, when Lord Kitchener trebled this +estimate. He cursed politicians of his own party when Namur fell. +Indeed, he blamed politicians and publicists of every colour and creed, +pinning his faith to Army and Navy, sorely disgruntled with the Foreign +Office and the Diplomatic Service. No more unhappy man gazed across his +broad acres wondering miserably whether they would be his in three +years' time. + +There ensued, as will be remembered, an amazing epidemic of national +apathy, which aroused trenchant criticism in neutral countries. People +bought maps and pins, and forgot to move the pins. Small things became +again of paramount importance. The King had demanded half a million more +regulars. But business went on as usual. A famous scribe has chronicled +the supreme event of this transition period. Carpentier defeated +Bombadier Wells! Possibly, the general indifference, an indifference +largely due to ignorance, was superficial. It is significant that +thousands of holiday-makers returned quietly to their own homes. + +Lionel Pomfret and his wife moved to Winchester, where Lionel was kept +busy at the depot. For the moment, his own battalion of the Rifle +Brigade was in India. Another battalion had joined the Expeditionary +Force. Lionel might be called upon to join it at twenty-four hours' +notice. Joyce Pomfret, his wife, perceived that he wanted to do so. + +An American, with the liveliest powers of observation, visiting +Nether-Applewhite, and talking, let us say, to Mrs. Yellam and Fancy, +would have gone away convinced that both these women, each the +antithesis of the other, were unconcerned with the war. Really the +thought of it obsessed them night and day. But they rarely spoke of it. +Mrs. Yellam deliberately put from her the possibility of losing her son, +partly because she had a positive assurance from the Parson that Alfred, +as a public carrier, would be exempted from military service if +conscription became necessary, and partly because the fact that she +tended four graves in the churchyard must surely be taken into account +by an All-wise and Merciful Providence. Like most of us, she had +constructed her own particular statute of limitations and liabilities. +She had endured more than her proper share of bludgeonings. Accordingly, +her mind dwelt upon the war as affecting others. She grieved for Lady +Pomfret and the Squire. If Master Lionel were taken--! The only son and +heir to such a fine property--! + +Fancy, sister of a beloved brother serving in a battleship, fell a prey +to more intimate and poignant considerations. As the child of a delicate +mother who had died in giving her birth, pre-natal influence, perhaps, +had endowed her with sensibilities common to all women who are +physically weaker than they should be, with minds and imaginations more +active than their bodies. From her tenderest years Fancy had indulged in +meditations concerning angels. Her father habitually spoke of his wife +as an angel hovering close to one whom she had never held in her arms. +Fancy believed him absolutely. Darkness had no terrors for the child, +when she went to bed, because, in addition to her mother, the four +evangelists guarded her cot. She was quite positive that she had seen +her mother, clothed in shining tissues, with wings like a dove. Matthew, +Mark, Luke and John became personal friends with whom the mite affirmed +solemnly that she talked and played. Her father, a dreamer rather than a +doer, encouraged these fancies, which justified his selection of her +Christian name in obstinate defiance of the wishes of his family. + +The first effect of the war upon Fancy, apart from her sisterly +anxieties, was a tightening of the bond between master and maid. Mr. +Hamlin held strong democratic opinions, a source of friction between +himself and Sir Geoffrey Pomfret. He desired ardently a more equable +distribution, not merely of wealth, but of health and intelligence. He +believed absolutely in the equality of souls before God, and he +recognised with ever-increasing satisfaction the potentialities of +bodies and minds, if taken in hand early in life. His disabilities as a +teacher shewed themselves in a too direct manner of speech, an +abruptness caused by an excess rather than a lack of sympathy and +perception. As Man and Priest, he shunned those easy by-paths beloved by +many of us when we have disagreeable duties to perform. He marched +straight to his objectives, regardless of objections. + +At first sight, Mr. Hamlin recognised in his parlourmaid qualities of +which she herself was delightfully unconscious. As parson of a country +parish which outwardly and inwardly had changed but little since the +eighteenth century, he had fought desperately against the mental and +spiritual apathy of his flock, seizing any weapon that lay to his hand. +He worked with people for people, using Peter to convert Paul, +constantly disappointed but rarely discouraged. He had been offered +preferment; his sermons challenged interest outside Nether-Applewhite +but he had no personal ambition beyond the consuming desire to help +those whom he knew and loved to help themselves. Sir Geoffrey Pomfret +supported him in this, but Parson and Squire worked upon diametrically +opposing lines. All the instincts of the lord of the manor were +protective. To that end he had made and was prepared to go on making +personal sacrifices of leisure, pleasure and money. According to Hamlin, +this encouraged helplessness and ignorance. Poverty held out eager hands +for doles, displaying that comical form of gratitude which has been +defined as a lively sense of favours to come. + +Hamlin, in common with most sincere reformers, divided the world into +two classes--the helpers and hinderers. Between these lay, of course, a +No Man's Land, where each class wandered aimlessly; the helpers, like +the Squire, became hinderers and hinderers, like Uncle, might become, +unexpectedly, helpers. Fancy, he acclaimed as a helper in or out of the +debateable territory. Insensibly, her refinement and modesty would raise +the tone in his kitchen, and radiate purer beams from a house hospitably +accessible to all his congregation. From time to time, when he was alone +at meals, he would ask the maid odd questions, and listen attentively to +her replies. Such questions were disconcerting to Fancy, but, as was +intended, they provoked intelligence to answer them. Ever since +ordination, Hamlin had realised the almost insuperable barriers +interposed by tradition, by training, by a thousand and one conditions +and consequences, between the privileged and unprivileged classes. From +the first he had set himself the task of breaking down such barriers. He +candidly admitted that most of his parishioners were liars and +hypocrites when it came to dealing with them frankly as between man and +man, and still more so as between man and woman. They said, +respectfully, what each felt that the Parson wished them to say, +repeating the old shibboleths and sesames which opened, possibly, purses +but not hearts. + +After the fall of Namur, he said to Fancy: + +"Do you feel patriotic?" + +The question of patriotism had been raised (and not laid) by a publicist +in one of the current reviews, but the writer had presented a point of +view coloured and discoloured by intimate knowledge of industrial +England. He had not touched upon his theme as it affected the rural +districts. + +"I hope so, sir," replied Fancy. + +"How far, I wonder, would your patriotism carry you?" + +He knew that Fancy was engaged to Alfred Yellam, and had congratulated +her sincerely. He knew, also, that she had no intention of getting +married for some time to come. + +Fancy stood at attention, much perplexed, but flattered. She had wit +enough to realise that her master put the question in certain faith that +she would endeavour to answer it truthfully. + +"I can't tell," she faltered. "Sounds silly, don't it, sir?" + +"Not at all. I am wondering how far my patriotism would carry me. What +is patriotism, Fancy?" + +"Love of country, sir." + +"Why do we feel it?" + +His keen eyes rested quietly on hers. + +Fancy grappled with this, struggling to rise adequately to the occasion. + +"I suppose 'tis gratitude, sir." + +"Good. But gratitude is imponderable." For an instant he had forgotten +that he was talking to his parlourmaid. Beholding a wrinkle, he said +quickly: "I mean, that gratitude is not easy to weigh or measure. It is +immense," he smiled at her, "when it marches hand in hand with +self-interest. It shrinks horribly when self-interest marches or runs in +the opposite direction. Do you follow me?" + +"Yes, sir; thank you, sir." + +"Don't thank me," he said, with a touch of irritation. He continued +quietly: "We must all try to weigh our patriotism, because every one of +us will be asked to exercise it. Leaving out the men able to bear arms, +I am thinking for the moment of the women, young and old. An immense +burden is about to be imposed on them. That is why I am speaking to you. +I held the mistaken view that this war would soon be over. But it is +plain that we are fighting an enemy overwhelmingly strong, who is +setting all laws, human and divine, at defiance. I want to measure our +patriotism, my own, yours, everybody's; but I do so in fear and +trembling." + +Fancy, outwardly calm, presenting the impassive mask of the well-trained +servant, became conscious of tingling and throbbing pulses. A strong man +appeals most strenuously to the sympathy of a woman, when he permits her +to have a glimpse of his weakness. She spoke impulsively, quite +forgetting her "place," as she told herself afterwards. + +"You be thinking of Mr. Edward." + +It was a flash of intuition. + +The Parson had four stout sons, but Teddy, the youngest, was his +Benjamin. Teddy and Joyce had inherited from Mrs. Hamlin joyous +temperaments. The other sons resembled their father. All of them were +"doing well" in a worldly sense. The eldest was a don at Cambridge, +Fellow and Tutor of his College. The others were in business, climbing +hand over hand the commercial ladder. Teddy, with not so good a start as +his brothers, had entered the Railway Service. Since Fancy's arrival at +the Vicarage he had spent a too short holiday at home. His jolly, +unaffected ways captivated Fancy instantly. Life, as the maids put it, +entered a dull house and filled it with sunshine. Teddy brought with him +to Nether-Applewhite wonderful news. He had been offered and had +accepted a billet worth four hundred a year--startling advancement for +so young a man. His unaffected joy in his own good fortune warmed all +sympathetic hearts. + +The Parson looked up sharply. + +"Yes," he answered curtly. He had finished breakfast, but still sat at +table. Fancy saw that he was nervously crumbling a small piece of bread. + +"But Mr. Edward won't have to go, sir." + +Hamlin hesitated. But, inviting confidence, he was not the man to +withhold it churlishly. He said slowly: + +"Between ourselves, Fancy, Mr. Edward wishes to go. I have a letter from +him this morning, asking for my advice on the subject. It means, for him +and me, a great sacrifice." + +Fancy gasped. + +"Oh, dear! You'll never let him go--surely?" + +Hamlin rose, a tall, gaunt figure. + +"My patriotism," he said grimly, "is not quite so lively, Fancy, as it +was last night." + +He went out of the room. Fancy began to clear away the breakfast things, +much troubled, sorely perplexed, alive to her finger-tips with the +dismal consciousness that life had become suddenly confoundingly +difficult. If Alfred took a notion to enlist, and if he consulted her +about it, as surely he would, to what sort of strain would her +patriotism be subjected? She, too, approached the question in fear and +trembling. At the moment "things," as she vaguely expressed it, were +going better and better for Alfred. War seemed to have oiled all +commercial wheels. On Sundays her happy swain soared into an empyrean of +prosperity and opulence where he sat enthroned high above her, talking +exuberantly of a future she dared not envisage. The good fellow assured +her that the Germans would soon be on the run, with English sabres +hewing them down, with English bayonets in their fat backs. Would such a +man, travelling at excess speed into Tom Tiddler's Ground, fingering +daily larger and ever larger pieces of silver and gold, stop suddenly +and abandon everything? + +He might. + +If patriotism seized him, as it had seized Mr. Edward, the strangling +grip would choke ambition, self-interest, and woman's love. + +She told herself miserably that Mr. Edward would go. More, his father +would not raise a finger to stop him. As the Parson left the +dining-room, she guessed that his decision had been made already. + +Within a week it became common knowledge in the village that Mr. Edward +Hamlin had enlisted in the Guards. He would appear amongst his father's +parishioners in a private's kit, and salute respectfully his old friend, +Captain Pomfret. + +He was the first "gentleman" in those parts to relinquish fortune at the +call of duty. And his shining example, so his father perceived, had +moved mountains of too solid flesh. As yet the great recruiting campaign +had not begun. + +Two days afterwards George Mucklow followed the parson's son into the +ranks. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +SECOND IMPRESSIONS + + +August--with its stupefying surprises, disappointments, and +acrimonies--drew to a close. The black Sunday, at the end of the month, +will never be forgotten by those who happened to be in London at the +time. For a few terrible hours it was said that our Expeditionary Force +had been annihilated. In the evening an official contradiction lifted +the town out of a pea-soup fog of despair. + +Day by day, the Hun hordes advanced. Sir Geoffrey devoured his morning +papers, talked over the immeasurable possibilities with his wife and +Fishpingle, and finally determined to tap fresh information at its +source. He went up to London, spent three days at his clubs, and +returned to Nether-Applewhite an angry and disillusioned man. Having +many friends in high places, some of them old schoolfellows and kinsmen, +who had become pale and anxious Cabinet Ministers, he buttonholed them +all, demanding the truth in his jovial, autocratic fashion. + +"A damned lot of Mandarins," he told his wife, "nodding their confounded +heads and saying nothing. At the club, by Jove! I felt as if I were in a +submarine with the periscope shot away. Every other fellow I met was +'credibly informed' about something or t'other, and I could have made a +pot of money, my dear, laying odds against their precious bits of +information. The Government is scared stiff, at the mercy of the +Labourites. Out of the welter of talk and twaddle I collared this +conviction: the England we love has vanished never to return. Kitchener +says that we shall be bled white, and the best will be the first to go." + +Lady Pomfret smiled faintly. + +"George Mucklow has gone." + +"Has he? I shall give Uncle a sovereign. Now, Mary, sick as I feel about +the incompetence and crass stupidity of the people who have got us into +this mess, I shall carry a stiff tail in the village." + +"I am sure you will, dear." + +"Yes. I asked 'em at the War Office what I could do. Get recruits, they +told me. I shall mug up a lecture, dealing with military terminology. My +people don't know the difference between a brigade and an army-corps. +Coming down in the train, I thought out some useful diagrams. And, Mary, +unless a miracle happens, the slaughter will be appalling. We must turn +our dear old house into a Red Cross Hospital." + +"I had thought of that, Geoffrey. We are quite ready." + +"Get your staff together, a competent, professional nurse, and the pick +of the women in the village." + +"Susan Yellam has promised to help." + +"None better! The sooner we get to work and stop jawing and fuddling our +wits over newspapers, the less miserable we shall be." + +"Yes, yes." + +After dinner, the autocrat of Nether-Applewhite felt less unhappy. + +Upon the following morning, bright and early, Squire and Parson put +their heads together at the Vicarage. Since the marriage of Hamlin's +daughter to Lionel Pomfret, the somewhat strained relations between the +two fathers had pleasantly relaxed. Hamlin had this advantage over the +Squire. He could see and understand the autocrat's lordly point of view. +The Squire was, and always would be, incapable of standing in the +Parson's shoes. Possibly, the war had modified their extreme opinions. +The Squire read and approved the leading articles in _The Morning Post_; +the Parson read omnivorously papers and reviews, but he would have +admitted candidly that _The Westminster Gazette_ embodied most +accurately his ideas and judgments. + +Both men were uncomfortably conscious that grave blunders had been +perpetrated by Authority. + +When they had lit their after-breakfast pipes, Sir Geoffrey laid before +Hamlin a synopsis of what he had gleaned in London, and his impressions +thereon, but he spoke temperately, perceiving whimsical gleams in his +Parson's eyes. + +"A lot of fools believe that Russians are pouring through this country. +An old pal and myself tried to investigate on our own. We went to +Euston. By Jove! we dropped on to a porter who swore that he'd seen +thousands of 'em passing through Willesden, big bearded men in queer +uniforms, at dead o' night. To show the ignorance of these fellows, +Hamlin, I'll repeat to you what was said in answer to my questions. The +porter affirmed positively that he had seen six hundred thousand of 'em! +_Six hundred thousand!_ I asked him, then, if he knew how many soldiers +could be packed into one train. He scratched his head at that. Finally, +he admitted that he could swear to three trains full of these bearded +warriors. When I told him, as an old soldier, that three trains might +carry three thousand troops he absquatulated. A man at the War Office, +whose name I can't mention, told me, next day, that no Russians from +Russia were passing through England. A few, coming from America to +Russia, have aroused this ridiculous gossip." + +Hamlin nodded. + +"I told my wife last night that knowledge is simply unachievable, +because the biggest men don't know yet the temper of the country. Nobody +knows. But I'll tell you this: the Government is afraid of the +Industrials, terrified of strikes, terrified of Ireland, terrified, of +course, of being kicked out. A sort of mental palsy has 'em by the +throat. They are putting out feelers, tentatively approaching everybody. +It's a sorry business. The bright spot is the response from our +Colonies; India is behaving well. That must be a rare sell for the +Kayser. Well, well; I've let off a little steam. Let's consider +ourselves and what we can do. Men must be got. In this village your dear +boy has set a glorious example." + +"George Mucklow enlisted three days ago." + +"So my wife tells me. I propose to give a lecture in the school-house on +elementary military dispositions, so that our people will be able to +read their papers with some sort of intelligence." + +"They don't read papers--much." + +"I want you to fill the school-house for me." + +"With pleasure." + +"We shall open a Red Cross Hospital as soon as may be, at the Court." + +Hamlin promised cordial co-operation. He had never doubted the Squire's +willingness or capacity to "do his bit." And very mournfully he told +himself that, making due allowance for Sir Geoffrey's reactionary +sentiments and hatred of politicians the indictment brought by him +against the Mandarins was in the main justified. He said quietly: + +"Most of my considered judgments are in the melting-pot." + +"Bless my soul! I never expected to hear you say that. So are mine. The +main question for all of us is this: will the country rise to this +stupendous emergency? I suppose the mere mention of conscription gives +you a fit?" + +"I carry an open mind about it." + +"You amaze me, Hamlin. We were both 'blue-water school' men." + +"Yes. You use the past tense. I am humbly sensible that what I have felt +and acted upon, principles and theories essentially rooted in peace and +for peace, is of the past. I shall leave them there. The needs of the +present are obsessing." He paused a moment; when he spoke again his +voice held conviction: "Out of the darkness, I see light." + +Sir Geoffrey asked eagerly: + +"What light?" + +"The light of a happier civilisation, of a broader and more sympathetic +internationalism. The ashes of this conflagration may fertilise anew the +whole earth. It must be so." + +He had surprised Sir Geoffrey a moment back; it was the Squire's turn to +surprise him. Hamlin expected a wail from the many-acred lord of the +manor, a Jeremiad personal and embittered. Inevitably the men of large +estates, with little outside their domains to support them, must suffer +cruelly. It was difficult, indeed, to envisage the Squire of +Nether-Applewhite without his shooting and hunting, with a much-reduced +establishment, constrained to cheese-paring, entertaining wounded +Tommies instead of county magnates. Sir Geoffrey answered as humbly as +the Parson: + +"God send it may be so, Hamlin. This is a war between autocracy and +democracy; and I don't believe in democracies, as you know." + +Hamlin remained silent. The Squire continued, more vehemently: + +"Can you mention one country that is a democracy? Is America a +democracy?" + +"We shall know soon." + +"Is it a democracy to-day? Uncle Sam says so. But isn't America governed +by the few and for the few? Do you call France a democracy after the +revelations of this Caillaux trial? Are we a democracy, in the true +sense? Perhaps Switzerland comes nearer the standard mark, but I know +nothing about Switzerland. I have always distrusted profoundly the mob." + +"That may be at the root of the trouble. Distrust breeds distrust. If +this war should open all eyes, if men should learn to see each other as +they are--much alike in the mass--and not, not, as they blindly believe, +essentially different, why, then this war will not have been waged in +vain." + +Sir Geoffrey wrestled valiantly with these words. + +"I grope, Hamlin, I grope. It sounds humiliating when one is past +sixty." + +Hamlin nodded. He was groping, too, but he had greater faith in human +nature. He said hesitatingly: + +"The result of all wars, according to history, has been this: the poor +emerge poorer; the rich richer. I hope that it will not be so after this +world-war. And our energies should be directed to that end, Pomfret:--a +more generous distribution of material wealth, a happier understanding +between all classes, a breaking-down of barriers everywhere, not only as +between man and man, but as between nation and nation." + +Sir Geoffrey jumped up, holding out his hand. + +"You are a good fellow, Hamlin, sound at core. I have often misjudged +you in the past. Forgive me! The past, as we knew it, is dead. We will +work together in the present." + +Hamlin rose quickly, grasping the outstretched hand. After discussing +practical details concerning the lecture, they separated. The Squire +strode on to the village, much heartened. The Parson sat down at his +desk to write the Sunday morning sermon. For a time, he put no pen to +paper. He leaned head upon hand, thinking deeply. Out of the dump-heap +which was left of his pet theories, he tried to piece together some sort +of mosaic pavement upon which he could stand. It was difficult to +realise the change in himself, more difficult to realise the change in +the Squire. But the change had taken place. What would be the effect on +his parishioners? Who would help? Who would hinder? If this war meant +the regeneration and reconstruction of the world, all were involved. He +thought of the dead Pope, who had passed away without exciting a ripple +of excitement outside the Vatican. What part would his successor play? +Would the Church of England grasp a tremendous opportunity? Would the +Nonconformists gird up their loins for the spiritual battle? + +Consider Armageddon how he might and did, from every point of view which +presented itself to an active and prescient brain,--the material outlook +of diplomatists struggling to adjust the balance of European powers, of +monarchs gazing at tottering thrones, of politicians still grabbing +loaves and fishes, of business men thinking of their tills, of the rank +and file in all countries working apathetically for their daily +bread,--this thought rose up and dominated others. To him and men like +him, ardently concerned with the potentialities of souls, ordained +teachers of God's Word, called upon to interpret, so far as they could, +the mysterious designs of Omnipotence, the issues shone clearly forth. +Evil was arrayed against Good. The pomps and vanities of the world were +marshalled against the powers of the Spirit. + +And, in the end, the Spirit would triumph. + +He began his sermon. + +The Squire, meanwhile, was approaching the _Sir John Barleycorn_ tavern, +intending to have a word with William Saint, and, later on, with Susan +Yellam and others, whom he regarded as aides-de-camp. Not being a very +judicious reader of character, indolently disposed (because he was so +busy himself) to accept his own people as they appeared to be, he +regarded William Saint as a respectable, intelligent publican, who had +been an excellent servant as first footman at the Court. He counted upon +William as a likely "whipper-in" in the hunt for recruits. The Boniface +of the _Pomfret Arms_, the larger of the two Nether-Applewhite taverns, +happened to be stout and scant o' breath. He seldom stirred out of his +snug bar-parlour. William Saint scoured the countryside, a very +energetic, enterprising fellow. + +"Morning, William." + +"Good morning, Sir Geoffrey." + +The Squire removed his hat and wiped an ample brow. He had found Saint +in the sanded tap-room, overhauling supplies. He noted the man's drab +complexion, and wondered whether he consumed too much of his own beer. +The publican asked his old master deferentially if he would drink a +glass of ale. Time was when the Squire never refused such invitations. +To-day, he declined the ale, saying trenchantly: + +"No, no. We shall have to tighten our belts, William. Take my word for +it. You must reckon with being hit. We shall all be hit in our purses +and our stomachs." + +William Saint agreed politely. He had no intention of being hit in +either place, but he kept that to himself. Already he was secretly +enrolled amongst the would-be profiteers, and resolutely determined to +extract good from an ill wind. Sir Geoffrey stated the nature of his +errand. The village must set an example to less beatified hamlets, such +as Ocknell, for example. Did William think the younger men would come +forward with enthusiasm? William was doubtful about the enthusiasm. With +discreet pressure from Authority, they might be induced to follow the +example of George Mucklow. The Squire slapped his thigh. + +"I am very pleased with George Mucklow. A snug billet shall be kept for +him." + +William smiled, not very pleasantly. + +"His father, Sir Geoffrey, used pressure." + +"Did he, b'Jove? And very proper, too. Uncle is one of the right sort. +Even his weaknesses are endearing. The truth is, William, in such +damnable times as these we must keep an eye peeled for the good in our +fellow-men, and wink the other discreetly." + +Perhaps William profited by this advice, and winked the eye farthest +from Sir Geoffrey. After more conversation, dealing strictly with +recruiting methods to be applied to a community essentially +peace-loving, Sir Geoffrey walked off and on, very well satisfied with +his talk with an old servant. William apostrophised his diminishing +figure in language never printed nowadays. + +As the Squire walked down village he, too, like the Parson, thought +seriously of what he should say to his people when he met them in the +school-house. He was not concerned with spiritual issues. As a former +M.F.H., he went a-hunting recruits with the same ardour and resource +formerly consecrated to foxes. With profoundest sincerity he wished that +he were of an age to bear arms. Indeed, he had offered himself, as an +ex-Guardsman, quite ready to tackle a new drill-manual, to an old +schoolfellow, now a general at the War Office. Sound advice had been +tendered him. + +"You can serve your country, Pomfret, on your own pitch. We shall want +men and food. Food may become the more difficult problem." + +Hence the allusion to tightened belts. + +Sir Geoffrey walked briskly, reflecting complacently upon his excellent +physical condition. He might be slightly dazed in mind, but fit as a +fiddle in body. An odd expression that! What constituted a "fit" fiddle? +Obviously, an instrument tuned to the right pitch. He felt taut all +over. What had kept him fit at an age when many men of his acquaintance +were falling into the sere and yellow stage of life? Sport. To scrap +sport filled him with apprehension. So far, sport in England went on as +usual. When he visited Euston to make enquiries concerning Russians, he +had seen many cheery-looking fellows on their way north, bent on slaying +grouse and stags, reasonably convinced in their own simple minds that, +Germans or no Germans, the world must wag on as before. Sir Geoffrey was +not so optimistic. He knew much better. Already the supreme sacrifice of +an only son had been demanded of him and made instantly. Other +sacrifices bulked larger and larger in the immediate future. Standing in +his fine hall, with the portraits of dead-and-gone Pomfrets looking down +upon him, he had smelt anticipatingly the pungent odours of carbolic +acid and iodoform. The stately saloon must be turned into a ward--! The +mere thought was hateful, but he never flinched from it. Let the poor +boys come! He would welcome them with courtesy and geniality. A Mandarin +predicted a five-shilling-in-the-pound income tax! The Squire had +responded generously to the Prince of Wales's Fund. + +The situation could be summed up in one all-embracing word--Hell! + +Little girls curtsied, small boys touched their caps, as the Autocrat of +Nether-Applewhite passed them by with a kindly word and glance for each. +He reflected: "The little 'uns are out of it, bless 'em!" He wondered +whether respectful salutations would last his time. They were dear to +him, outward and visible signs of the respect paid to Authority. Would +they be scrapped? The Government had taken over the railroads. If the +Labourites came into power, the land might be grabbed ruthlessly. + +Sir Geoffrey walked less briskly, as the possibility obtruded itself. + +He stopped first at Uncle's cottage. Mrs. Mucklow received him. Uncle, +it appeared, was at work, thatching a dormer window, which exacted his +particular skill. Yes, George, poor boy, had gone for a soldier. His +father had insisted upon it. + +"Quite right," said the Squire heartily. + +Jane Mucklow sniffed. She dared not contradict the Squire, but a sour +face betrayed her feelings. The Squire laid a sovereign on the +mantelpiece, saying that it was for Uncle, with the donor's compliments. +Jane thanked him, wondering whether the piece of gold could be +despatched, surreptitiously, to George. Always, Uncle got credit for +what more deserving individuals accomplished. An exasperating thought! A +recital of her own aches and pains, however, provoked the promise of a +bottle of port. Sir Geoffrey shook hands with his former cook on +leaving, and said graciously: + +"Now, remember, Jane, if George gets leave and comes home, I want to see +him. Send him up to the Hall." + +"Thank you kindly, sir." + +Sir Geoffrey went his way. As he approached the Yellam cottage, he +muttered half audibly: + +"Good people. Good people." + +If he had known the truth--! At this moment Jane Mucklow was reviling +him, because she laid her George's approaching death at the Squire's +door. She made quite sure--and so did George--that he would be killed in +his first action. With much reluctance we present these two old servants +of the Autocrat smiling deferentially to his face and cursing him behind +his back! And he believed so absolutely in their honesty and sincerity. + +Five minutes later, Mrs. Yellam dusted a chair which needed no dusting. +The Squire sat down upon it. He liked and respected Susan Yellam, and +she--you may be sure--was well aware of that. No insincerity lurked +behind her welcoming smile. But, in justice to the unhappy Jane Mucklow, +it must be stated that Susan happened to be independent of the Autocrat. +Many times and oft had Uncle been "behindhand" with his rent. More than +once Sir Geoffrey had remitted that rent altogether, simply because +Uncle was so knowledgeable about foxes and deer, and such a +wrath-disarming scallywag even in his cups. Mrs. Yellam paid her rent +punctually, and possessed independent means. She had never been in +service. She exercised brains, rare in any village, which enabled her to +apprehend something withheld from the unprivileged classes, to +wit:--that position carried with it crushing responsibilities and +disabilities. Mr. Fishpingle, so near and dear to Sir Geoffrey, a friend +and servant of fifty years, had often pointed out to her the sacrifices +made by the Squire for his people. And she had kept eyes and ears open +to these, deducing inferences from them. + +For some minutes Sir Geoffrey talked about the Red Cross Hospital, +enlisting Susan's sympathies. Co-operation had been promised already to +Lady Pomfret. + +"My lady be none too strong," observed Mrs. Yellam. + +The Squire was not of Mrs. Yellam's opinion, but he didn't say so. He +mentioned his proposed lecture, and solemnly invited her considered +views on the recruiting campaign. She was not enthusiastic. + +"Be they wanted real bad, Sir Geoffrey?" + +"Of course they are." + +"Wanted as soldiers more than they be wanted on the land?" + +The Squire frowned. He had not weighed the pros and cons of a question +hardly raised as yet even by far-seeing men. + +"Lord Kitchener asks for them." + +"I be afeard they'll hang back. 'Tain't easy to believe that us is at +war. My Alferd be doing wonnerful well; trade stimulated as never was." + +"I hear that Alfred is engaged to be married. Tell me all about it." + +At such moments the Squire was at his best, keenly interested, avid for +details, always ready to assume sponsorial obligations for the unborn, +and promising five pounds if the little strangers appeared in couples. +Mrs. Yellam spoke of Fancy. + +"Bless my soul! She opened the Vicarage door to me this morning. A very +pretty girl, on the thin side, but modest and intelligent. I shall +congratulate her. Your Alfred is a very sterling fellow. He deserves the +right sort of wife. By the way, we shan't want him. You can tell him so +from me." + +Mrs. Yellam said gravely: + +"Alferd be my only son, and I tells him that others should go first." + +"Um! What does he say to that?" + +"Nothing--not a word." + +"Well, Susan, I want Alfred to help me. As a carrier he is constantly +meeting young men and young women. Let him talk to both." + +"Yes, Sir Geoffrey. Alferd be a very forcible man, wi' plenty o' brave +words and thoughts. Certainly this war be a marrer-stirring affair. I +hopes as how Master Lionel be enjoyin' good health, and his dear lady?" + +Sir Geoffrey chuckled. + +"Captain, Susan, Captain. And only yesterday, I remember, he came +sneaking in here, always sure of a bull's-eye." He glanced at his watch. +"Time, confound it, is always hurrying on. I'm due at the Home Farm. +Before I go, one word in your faithful ear. It will travel no further +for the present, hey?" + +"You knows that, Sir Geoffrey." + +They both stood up, a fine couple. The Squire patted Mrs. Yellam's +substantial shoulder. Then he lowered his jolly voice: + +"You asked about Mrs. Pomfret. After Christmas I am expecting the sort +of present I want badly. You understand----?" + +"Lard bless 'ee, Sir Geoffrey, and her too. Tis gert news." + +"Isn't it? But mum's the word!" + +He went on to the Home Farm, whither we need not follow him. But it may +be added, incidentally, that the translation of Benoni Fishpingle from +the position of butler at Pomfret Court to the more responsible post of +Bailiff had worked greatly to the Squire's advantage and happiness. He +returned home to luncheon in reasonably high spirits, having prodded the +sides of many fat bullocks. He found Lady Pomfret on the terrace facing +the park. From her face he divined instantly that something of +importance had happened. She came up to him, with her slow, measured +walk, holding out a telegram. It was from Lionel. + +"Expect Joyce and me to-night. I go to France this day week." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +RECRUITING + + +The Squire's lecture was an immense success. The village school-house +overbrimmed with his "people." With a big blackboard behind him, and +chalk in hand, the lecturer talked simply and convincingly upon a +subject at that time unfamiliar to his audience, a subject vital to any +understanding of military movements. He explained the nature of +platoons, companies, battalions, brigades, divisions and army corps. He +presented, in short, an army in being. Loud applause greeted this first +half of the lecture. The second half was devoted to the urgent cause of +recruiting, and was not, perhaps, quite so enthusiastically acclaimed. +The Squire, abandoning chalk and blackboard, thrust his hands in his +pockets, and spoke trenchantly. We need not chronicle what he said. Men +like him, all over the country, used the same arguments, almost exactly +the same words. Such speakers forgot what had been said by Tweedledum +and Tweedledee during the piping times of peace. Men and women, herded +together, were invited to scrap the slow judgments and convictions of +their lives. They had been assured again and again by politicians of +variegated complexions that a mighty navy was fully adequate to defend +our Empire against attack. Need it be added that such assurance, +embodying as it did the accumulated wisdom and experience of +generations, could not be cast incontinently as rubbish to the void. +English politicians--using the word in the strongest antithesis to +statesmen--have never realised the temper of the country towards +themselves, the curious and striking indifference of the average man, +engrossed in his own avocation, to any policy that he has not the wits +or leisure to assimilate thoroughly. The confidence of this average man +in the government of the moment has always been poignantly touching, a +confidence stolidly based upon a belief in the fundamental common sense +of the nation as a whole. Upset that belief, and the average man becomes +at once helplessly befogged. + +After the Squire had spoken, old Captain Davenant said a few words in a +more Cambyses' vein. Unhappily, the Captain lacked the geniality and +persuasiveness of Sir Geoffrey. He believed in the choleric word, +snapped out viciously. He spoke as he had often spoken in the +barrack-yard, or in the hunting-field when some heavy-witted yokel had +headed a fox. Probably he was shrewd enough to realise that this fox of +recruiting might be headed, and governed himself accordingly. The +Captain read the lessons on Sunday in the same peremptory tones, raising +a rasping voice and glaring at the congregation--a very mirth-provoking +performance. Uncle embodied the Nether-Applewhite verdict on such +readings of the Scriptures: + +"'Tis a rare lark to hear 'un!" + +Fancy and Alfred attended the lecture together, and Alfred accompanied +his sweetheart to the Vicarage _au clair de la lune_. They had sat at +the back of the school-house amongst the younger people, and had +listened attentively to sundry comments. Alfred, of course, accepted as +gospel whatever the lord of so goodly a manor might be gracious enough +to say. Being a carrier, and passing daily through many manors, he had +made obvious comparisons between his Squire and others to the advantage +of Sir Geoffrey Pomfret. Remember, also, that as yet, although he kept +silence on the point, he had not considered the possibility of England +wanting him, a widow's only son, actively engaged in the prosecution of +a business vital to the needs and necessities of a prosperous village. +He hadn't a doubt in his mind, after listening to a burning harangue, +that the younger men ought to down tools of peace and shoulder rifles at +the word of command. Some of the half-whispered comments disturbed him. + +"Are they cowards?" he demanded of Fancy. + +"Oh, I can't think that, Alfie." + +"You heard them growling like a lot of cantankerous hounds. I'd a strong +notion to speak my mind, I had. 'Twas lucky for them that Uncle Habakkuk +was sitting quiet and peaceful amongst the quality. I'll be bound he +picked up a shilling or two, being the happy father of the hero. George, +pore soul, stands higher than I ever expected to see him. 'Tis a sad +pity the boy ain't able to hear the brave words as was said to-night by +Squire and Captain. He's standing on a giddy pinnacle, to be sure, and I +mind me, in cricket-field, how he'd shut both eyes when a ball came at +his legs. I see him like that, quavering, on the field of battle." + +Alfred chuckled. Fancy squeezed his arm, whispering fears not for George +Mucklow, but for a better man: + +"Alfie, please don't joke about that." + +"Ah, well, Fancy, 'tis a fact that many of our boys are like George. +Shifting manure's their proper job, and they do that so slow that I get +weary watching 'em. Young Master Teddy is the real right sort. What he's +done, giving up a grand position, fills me nose-high with pride. And too +little was said about him,--a very notable oversight." + +"That was because Mr. Teddy is quality." + +"You're right, my pretty maid. Are you aware, Miss Broomfield, that your +fingers are playing the piano on my ribs?" + +Love-making put to flight the less agreeable theme. + +Mrs. Yellam and Jane Mucklow went home side by side. Jane, as the mother +of the hero, maintained an aggressive silence. Susan Yellam said, with a +faint inflection of interrogation: + +"You be a proud 'ooman to-night, Jane?" + +"You be wrong, as usual. I bain't nothing of the sart." + +"Squire and old Captain spoke up so handsome about your Garge." + +"Be I the old fool they takes me for? 'Twas soft soap, Susan, ladled out +in a big spoon; flimflam I calls it. Habakkuk can ha' the pride, and +welcome. He be fair swollen wi' that and ale as Garge is payin' for." + +"I listen to no ill talk about my brother, Jane." + +"Then you'd better walk wi' some one else, Susan Yellam. You sees God +A'mighty's hand i' this; I don't." + +She stamped along home in a silence Mrs. Yellam was too wise to break. +Jane was a Christian and a churchgoer. But chronic dyspepsia seemed to +have affected her conscience and principles. + +She had predicted aright. At the _Sir John Barleycorn_ Uncle was +drinking much ale paid for, indirectly, by the hero of the hour. The +gaffers and married men, including George's married brothers, listened +approvingly. Uncle "understudied" the Squire as he addressed his +friends, thrusting his hands into his pockets and standing very upright. + +"'Twas a notable evening, neighbours, but not a thing fresh to me, you +understand? Me and Squire went over his so heart-stirrin' remarks two +days ago, and me and old Captain had talk together this very marning. +Far be it from me to say as they used my own words egzactly; I bain't a +scollard, although I can an' do hold me own wheresomedever I finds +myself. And I tell 'ee, just as Squire did to-night, 'tis our duty to +cry 'Forrard' and keep on a-hollerin' so long as breath be left in our +dear bodies. We got to jine in the hunt, boys, and roll our big buck +over in open. I means, some way, to be in at death, and 'twould be a +grand privilege to slit his royal throat. I tell 'ee, one and all, that +the eyes o' the world be on Nether-Applewhite." + +Uncle drank some ale, amidst much applause. An old gaffer piped up: + +"Neighbours and true friends, this be a wondersome time, but I makes +bold to say that we country fellers bain't properly esteemed in Lunnon +town. I minds me when I jined what they called a deppitation to that +gert city. I'd no stomach to go along, seein' as I'd no better clothes +than I stands up in to-day. But I was out-talked, sonnies, as has +happened to me by my own wife, time and time agen. We marched very +proper down such a noble street as I'd reckoned might be found in +Kingdom Come and nowheres else. And marchin' along so proud and joyous +as never was, a tremenjous, red-faced man, a-settin' top side of a 'bus, +wi' the reins in his hand, sings out: 'Halt!' Well, neighbours, we comes +to a full stop, a-lookin' up at he, and, dang me, if he don't ask a very +ridic'lous and shameless question." + +The old man paused solemnly, looking about him. Some had heard the story +before; one of the others said curiously: + +"Whatever did he say?" + +"He says this, sonnies, loud and clear: 'Tell me this,' he says, 'how do +they keep the crows off the wheat when you fellers comes to town?' +Neighbours, they was his words. And it struck me all of a heap as we +wasn't, so to speak, properly esteemed in Lunnon town; and, more, 'tis +hard to believe that what Habakkuk Mucklow here says is true. There be +too much i' the world, neighbours all, for it to be gapin' at we." + +Uncle felt that he had overstrained a figure of speech. But he dealt +faithfully with his aged interrupter. + +"What did 'ee up and reply to 'un, Granfer?" + +The old gaffer gazed around. + +"Ah-h-h! I says nothing at the time, Habakkuk Mucklow, but a very +forcible remark comes into my mind just one week too late, when I was +makin' spars in Hollywell Wood. I could ha' downscrambled 'un. 'Twas in +the month o' November that we marched so gay adown that there Regency +Street. And in November ther bain't no wheat to keep crows off. 'Twas a +shameless and very ignerunt remark." + +He cackled joyously as a good Samaritan refilled his glass. William +Saint, feeling cautiously the pulse of his customers, hazarded a remark: + +"The likely young fellers sat together at the end of the room, and they +kept together afterwards. I see none of them here with us to-night. What +does that mean?" + +"I'll tell 'ee," replied Uncle promptly, "and in duty bound, being so +moral a man, I means to tell Squire to-morrow marning. They be afeard, +as my Garge was, till I talked to 'un. Such talk as mine, soul-stirrin', +upliftin' words, be wanted bad in Nether-Applewhite. The young fellers +has got to fight for they as brought 'un into this wicked world. I +fought in my time, as you all knows." + +"Where?" asked William Saint. + +Uncle replied scornfully: + +"Never you mind where, Willum Saint. I can fight still, let me tell 'ee. +If you doubts that, take off your coat and come wi' me to stable-yard." + +William Saint declined politely the invitation. + +"Why, Uncle, I meant no offence. We all want to fight the Germans, not +to quarrel amongst ourselves. You have a glass o' ale with me." + +Harmony was restored. Those present, who could hardly be expected to +fight, agreed cordially that others must do the job for them. The +youngsters needed encouragement. + +"Wi' the end of a boot," concluded Uncle. + +The lecture had taken place at seven. At nine the port circulated round +Sir Geoffrey's mahogany. Hamlin was present and Lionel Pomfret. How +sadly one recalls the chatter of those early days, the high hopes, the +confidence that Might would crumble away against Right, the belief in +the steam-roller--Russia. On paper, a swift result seemed assured. The +Squire had thrown off London vapours. His own words had intoxicated him. +He admitted that recruiting might hang fire in villages like Ocknell, +but not amongst _his_ people. Lionel backed him up. Lady Pomfret and +Joyce said nothing. The Parson hoped that it would be so. When Sir +Geoffrey had said everything to be said, twice over, he turned as usual +to his wife for an approving nod strangely withheld. + +"Well, my dear Mary, you agree with me?" + +"About the necessity of getting men--yes. But I am not so sanguine as +you, Geoffrey, about the patriotism in our village." + +"Bless my soul!" + +"I think Mr. Hamlin shares my apprehensions." + +"I do," admitted the Parson gravely. + +Lady Pomfret continued gently: + +"I was talking, this afternoon, with Susan Yellam. She looks ahead. She +faces facts, as we do. But she knows the village better than we do." + +"My dear----!" + +"I have been talking, too, with Ben." + +"So have I, Mary; so have I." + +Lady Pomfret smiled. + +"Are you quite sure, Geoffrey, that you have been talking with Ben, and +not at him? He is too courteous to interrupt you and too kind to +contradict you." + +"What does old Ben say to you?" + +"What Susan Yellam says. The villagers, generally, believe that our +present army and navy can beat a world in arms against us. You disabused +them of that this evening, but Captain Davenant undid some of your +stitches." + +The Squire fumed a little. + +"The old boy let them have it straight from the shoulder." + +"Exactly. Personally, I deplore such methods." + +"Sheep have to be yapped into the fold." + +"I wonder if Mr. Hamlin thinks so?" + +Thus challenged, Hamlin spoke--tentatively. + +"I have never been able to regard men and women as animals. I admit a +superficial similarity. Dogs are nearest to us, but what an Atlantic +stretches between us and them! Would any training turn a Pekinese into a +pointer? Or a pug into a greyhound? But you can train any child, of any +nationality, into what you reasonably please, provided always that you +are dealing with a sound mind in a sound body. Sheep, under certain +conditions, have to be yapped into folds, because they are sheep. The +Prussian system yaps men into the ranks. I would sooner try other +methods." + +The Squire inclined his handsome head. + +"Try your own methods, Hamlin, and good luck to you." + +He answered quietly: "I shall try them next Sunday." + +"You don't say so? From the pulpit?" + +"Why not?" + +"I approve with all my heart." + +For the moment it rested there. Lionel began to talk of his coming +campaign. The elder men and both the women, wife and mother, listened to +his young, eager voice. How keen he was! How sure of himself and of his +men, particularly the men. He talked persistently of Mr. Thomas Atkins, +of his artful divagations in peace and his whole-souled valour in war. +Hamlin reflected that it was good to listen to such talk, good to be +young and valiant, at such a time, good even to die, if the supreme +sacrifice were demanded, clean of limb and mind, leaping joyously +upward, unfettered by disease or vice, _fit_--to use the boy's own +word--for the greatest adventure of all. + +He heard his own boy speaking, just such another! Britain had thousands +of them, the fine flower of careful training, of a courtesy constantly +exercised, of a courage sharpened to finest edge by the grindstone of +games and sports, of an intelligence not quite so keenly tempered, but +alert enough in moments of stress, of a "morale" which nothing could +dismay. + +Surely they would be invincible? + +When Lionel waxed anecdotal, Hamlin's thoughts wandered to the women. He +had been a stalwart champion of the "Cause," till the militant +suffragettes took to smashing windows and smacking policemen. One effect +of the war, and no inconsiderable national asset, was the subsidence of +these tempestuous petticoats, never to flutter again, so he hoped. From +women this essentially virile parson had always expected and exacted +great things. The true prosperity of any country, so he held, flowed +from them and culminated in them. He had recognised, even at college, +their immeasurable potentialities--a favourite word of his. To ignore +their claims, politically, he contended in and out of print, was a +colossal blunder. But, quite apart from the granting or withholding of +female suffrage, he desired ardently to see women doing intelligently +and thoroughly the work peculiarly their own, whether as matrons or +spinsters. The death-rate amongst babies appalled him; the physique of +young girls overworked in over-crowded, over-heated factories and shops +roused this austere parish priest to fever-heat. He had marvelled at the +astigmatic insight displayed by sincere statesmen and philanthropists, +an insight ludicrously so-called, which overlooked women as the +mightiest lever to raise and regenerate a nation. + +And now, in the dim twilight of a world in gloom, he perceived a beacon +steadily shining. The women would have their opportunity. One could +adumbrate triumph or disaster by the effort, sustained or otherwise, +made by them. The men would play their part, if the inspiration of the +women lay behind them. And in the inevitable dislocations of all human +enterprise, both during and after the war, he beheld women stimulating +the men either upward or downward, for good or ill, according to the +spirit which burned within them. + +He gazed at Lady Pomfret and his daughter Joyce, as their eyes dwelt +upon the son and husband about to sail for France. He could guess what +sensibilities lacerated their hearts. Outwardly, each remained calm. +They would be so when the moment of parting came, speeding their warrior +on his way with smiles, keeping back the tears till he was out of sight. + +Hamlin walked home across the park, and let himself into the Vicarage +with his latch-key. It was past eleven, and, to his surprise, Fancy had +not gone to bed. As she lit his candle he chided her with the touch of +testiness which had ceased to frighten her. + +She said quickly: + +"I wanted to see you, sir." + +"See me at nearly midnight? What about? Surely to-morrow morning would +do?" + +"I wanted to sleep well to-night." + +Without a word, he led the way into his study, and lighted two more +candles. + +"Sit down," he commanded. "You look tired." + +"I feel excited like, sir." + +He examined her more attentively, noticing the dilation of her pupils, +so marked as to alter her expression. Big black eyes seemed to be +burning out of a white face, but he attributed this seeming pallor to an +ill-lit room. + +"What excites you, Fancy?" + +"I sat with Alfred Yellam at the back of school-house amongst the young +fellows." + +"Well?" + +"Before Alfred left me, he told me to tell you, sir, that the young +fellows was not too well pleased with what Captain Davenant said. Alfred +was real vexed at their remarks. He thought you did ought to know." + +"I'm much obliged to Alfred for a timely hint. But couldn't this have +kept till the morning?" + +"There's something else, sir." + +"Out with it!" He smiled more encouragingly. + +"After Alfred went, Molly told me as everybody in village was saying as +how George Mucklow's father _made_ him go, and that upset the other +young men.... And then...." + +Her soft voice faltered and died away. + +"And then...?" + +"Molly and me fell to talking about Mr. Edward." + +The sympathy in her voice was almost too much for the Parson. He shaded +his eyes with his hand. She continued in a lower tone: + +"Excuse me, sir, for asking you something, but I do want to know so +bad." + +"Ask your question, Fancy." + +"Did you tell Mr. Edward to go?" + +"No." + +"Ah! He wanted to go, and you didn't raise a finger to prevent him. If +you had, maybe he'd have stayed." + +"I--I don't think so." + +The Parson's voice was not too steady. How sorely he had been tempted to +raise that finger none would ever know. Fancy went on, breathlessly: + +"Molly and me thinks that those who can least be spared may have to go, +if--if the others hold back." + +"I see. You are thinking of your Alfred?" + +He lowered his hand, looking straight at her. + +"If you please, sir. He be terrible put out at the others hanging back." + +"I give my opinion for what it is worth, Fancy. In these deep matters +none can speak for another. I do not presume to speak for Alfred. But +Lord Kitchener, if he were here, would assure you that Alfred is +certainly not needed yet, nor likely to be for a long time." + +"Thank you, sir. That does hearten me. But, if he should want to go, and +if--if he left it to me, what should I do? What ought I to do?" + +Her big eyes were flaming with interrogation. The Parson dared not +temporise with her. All his thoughts concerning women seemed to have +become focussed on this individual case. All that the finest gentlewomen +in the Empire were feeling expressed itself poignantly from the mouth of +his parlourmaid. All his convictions concerning the potentialities of +the soul became fortified. They burst suddenly into full flower. Yet he +answered curtly, distrustful of sentiment when tremendous issues were at +stake. + +"You will tell him, Fancy, to act according to the dictates of his own +conscience." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Do you mean that you will tell him that, regardless of your own +feelings?" + +"Yes, sir." + +She got up, begging his pardon for keeping him out of bed. As he rose +from his chair, he wondered what he could say to comfort her; some word +of solace that might woo sleep to her tired brain. They went together +into the small hall. He took her hand. + +"Have courage and faith. Pray that these may be vouchsafed to you and to +all of us. Something tells me that you have both already. And if so, +Fancy, it is well with you. Good-night." + +"Good-night, sir." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +PARSON'S METHODS + + +Next day, immediately after breakfast, Sir Geoffrey summoned his two +footmen and the odd man, so called because he does odd jobs in a big +establishment and works harder for less pay than any other servant +except, possibly, the scullery-maid. The first footman, Alfred Rockley, +had married recently his cousin, Prudence, and, for the moment, the +Squire regarded him as ineligible for service elsewhere. Charles, the +second footman, was held by the Squire to be an oaf, sadly in need of +barrack-yard discipline; the odd man had been taken from the Home Farm, +and felt more at home in a barn than in the pantry. + +They had attended the lecture of the previous evening. + +Sir Geoffrey marshalled them in front of him, as he sat at his desk, and +said genially: + +"Now, Alfred, what do you think about joining up?" + +The gallant fellow answered promptly: + +"I'm ready to enlist with Captain Pomfret, Sir Geoffrey." + +"So he told me, and it warmed the cockles of my heart. But you have a +wife and----" + +"Somebody else coming, Sir Geoffrey," added a true son of +Nether-Applewhite. + +"Yes, yes; a hint of that reached me, and I was much pleased. Babies, +b'Jove, ought to command premiums nowadays. Under the circumstances, +Alfred, you can go back to the pantry. Single men must march first." + +Alfred thanked the Autocrat, and withdrew. Charles happened to be the +Squire's godson, and not a credit to his sponsor. Sir Geoffrey stared at +his bovine face, now exhibiting a grin which might be seen at funerals +and on all momentous occasions, a grin indicating nervousness and +apprehension. If Sir Geoffrey could have looked through a very massive +desk, he would have reprimanded Charles for standing on one foot and +scratching his calf with the other. + +"What do you propose to do, Charles?" + +"I be thinking, Sir Gaffrey." + +"Good. I want my people to exercise such thought as God has given to +'em. What conclusion have you come to--hey?" + +"Mother don't fancy me going for a soldier." + +"Possibly not. But this is a case for your conscience, not for your +mother's fancy." + +He spoke with increasing testiness. + +"I be thinking, Sir Gaffrey," he repeated, with a still broader grin. + +"Very well. Off with you! Think hard for the next twenty-four hours, and +I'll see you again." + +"Yas, Sir Gaffrey." + +Charles withdrew, still grinning, and joined Alfred in the pantry, where +he used encarmined language which provoked a rebuke from the middle-aged +butler who had stepped into Fishpingle's shoes. + +Sir Geoffrey eyed the odd man. + +"What have you to say, my lad?" + +"I ain't going to the wars, I ain't." + +"Oh, you ain't going to the wars? Why not?" + +"Because I'm quite satisfied with my place, sir." + +"By the way, what's your name?" + +"William Busketts." + +"To be sure. Unmarried?" + +"I'm walking out with Jemima Pavey, a very respectable young woman." + +"What does Jemima Pavey say about it?" + +"She thinks with me, sir. Most of us think the same, as we ain't ready +to go to furrin' parts. If the Kayser invades Old England, I'm ready to +shoulder gun, stand behind a tree, as brave as my neighbours, and take a +true shot at 'un." + +Sir Geoffrey stared at him. Did all the young men in his beloved village +think this? And, if so, how was Authority going to deal with such a lot +of damned fools? He said slowly: + +"Has it occurred to you, my lad, that if able-bodied men like you refuse +to enlist willingly, they will be made to do so? Willy-nilly----!" + +"Ah-h-h, you're talking of conscription, sir. Old England won't never +stand that. 'Tis devilish Proosianism, so they tell me." + +"Who has told you that? Answer me!" + +"I have heard William Saint say so." + +Sir Geoffrey suppressed an oath. That William Saint, a former servant of +his own, a tenant, a trusted friend, b'Jove! should so poison men's +minds at such a time seemed incredible. If this were true, the world was +indeed upside down. He fidgeted in his chair; his face flushed; wrath +bubbled within him. He began to despair of his fellow-countrymen. +However, he choked down his rising rage and said freezingly: + +"You can go, sir." + +"Where to?" + +"Back to your work for the present." + +William Busketts retreated, slightly moithered, but more at ease. He had +expected an explosion, followed by the "sack." + +Sir Geoffrey leaned back in his chair, sorely discomfited. It would be +pleasant to record that happier fortune awaited him in his stables, in +his gardens, and at the Home Farm; but truth will leap from her well on +rare occasions. Out of all the young men interviewed upon this memorable +morning, young men more or less dependent upon the will and whim of +their interlocutor, only one promised to enlist forthwith. The others +touched their caps, bobbed their heads, and professed themselves willing +to do anything except bear arms for their country. + +Luncheon at Pomfret Court, accordingly, was not a very cheery meal. The +Squire sat silent and abstracted; the troubles in his brain upset his +appetite. + +In the afternoon, he called upon Captain Davenant, whom he found +apoplectic with indignation. The Captain had a modest establishment, but +he had discharged two men who--so the Captain affirmed--preferred to +guzzle ale when a unique opportunity for sticking pig was held out to +them. + +"Country's rotten," concluded the Captain. "It may be saved by the +gentlemen, by God! sir, but not by our yokels." + +The Squire protested against this, saying, mildly for him: + +"Perhaps, Davenant, our methods are at fault." + +"That be damned!" roared the Captain. + +"Well, well, it's fairly obvious that so far our recruiting campaign has +not been an overwhelming success. Hamlin means to have a go at 'em on +Sunday. I haven't a notion how he'll tackle the job, but there it is. +What is your opinion of William Saint?" + +"A very shifty fellow, Pomfret, with a face the colour of skilly. He +licks your boots. I wouldn't let him black mine. By the way, I've +promised Habakkuk Mucklow half-a-sovereign for every cove he collars." + +"That we should have come to such a pass!" + +"Light a fresh cigar, and we'll go to the stables. When I'm fed up with +mankind, I always take a squint at my gees." + +"So do I, Davenant. But they'll have to go, too." + +"Mine are ready for 'em." + +This talk took place in mid-September, at a moment when an astrologer, +doing a roaring trade not far from Piccadilly Circus, predicted +confidently that the final disappearance of the All-Highest would take +place upon the twenty-fifth day of October, 1914! Many believed him. And +the mere sight of our splendid regulars route-marching over country +roads, singing "Tipperary" as they swung along, deepened in the hearts +of those who beheld them the conviction that French's Army was quite +sufficient to stem the Hun tide, and, later on, sweep it back to Berlin. +The pacifist press was widely read by men who had never looked at a +newspaper before. + +Unspeakable atrocities had begun in prostrate Belgium. Some refused to +credit them. Others shrugged their shoulders and remarked blandly that +war was not five o'clock tea. Out of the seething mass of +contradictions, affirmations, exaggerations and recriminations, men in +the rural districts who could hardly read and write were invited to step +forward and abandon the beaten tracks. Can one blame them, to-day, that +they shrank at first from a desperate plunge into the unknown? + +Upon the following Sunday, Nether-Applewhite Church was crowded to the +galleries. + +All over the country, churches were filling up or emptying according to +the virtue that emanated from the preachers of God's Word. One wonders +whether ministers of the Gospel apply this numerical test to themselves. +It is certain, however, that those, like Hamlin, whether in Church or +Chapel, who laid aside for the moment merely Biblical exegesis and the +expounding of doctrine and dogma, and concentrated spiritual and +intellectual energies upon dealing faithfully with the problem of human +conduct as affected by a catastrophic war, had no reason to complain +that they addressed empty pews. + +Captain Davenant read the Lessons as if he were declaiming the Riot Act. +The good man believed that the young men present were shirking hounds to +be rated and whipped up to their Master. Under the lash of his rasping +voice, even Mrs. Yellam, louder in fervent response than usual, winced +and frowned. The Parson, in his three-decker, wondered whether a +discreet hint would serve to tone down the zeal of this militant +Christian, who positively wallowed in the slaughters and comminations of +the Old Testament. The Captain, as a stout upholder of Church and Crown, +must be handled delicately; a dry old stick breaks so easily. Uncle sat +with his wife in the Mucklow pew, half-way down the nave. He carried a +high head, and thought of the half-sovereigns soon to be rattling in and +out of his pocket. Jane sat beside him, sniffing audibly. Alfred Yellam +and Fancy Broomfield were opposite to each other, with the aisle between +them. + +Hamlin ascended the pulpit. + +He chose for his text a maxim of Bishop Berkeley: + +"Where the heart is right, there is true patriotism." + +The shuffling of skirts and occasional coughs soon died down. Sir +Geoffrey, from his coign of vantage in the chancel, perceived with some +astonishment that Hamlin had a script on the cushion in front of him. As +a rule he preached without notes. The Squire inferred rightly that the +Parson deemed his theme to be of such paramount importance that he +distrusted the effect of one careless, unconsidered word. Hamlin, +however, possessed long sight. He could read his typewritten sheets +without lifting them. Few in the congregation were aware of them. + +He began with the curt statement that the actual word "patriotism" is +not to be found in the Bible. This challenged attention immediately. The +Squire fidgeted. He considered that Hamlin had made a shockingly bad +start. A weapon had been thrust into the hands of recalcitrants. This +apprehension, however, vanished as the preacher set forth convincingly, +in words that children could understand, the obsessing love of country, +of the Promised Land, which informed and sustained God's Chosen People +during forty weary years in the wilderness. With a swift transition, he +passed to the New Testament, dwelling, with more insistence, upon the +love that had inspired simple, obscure men to forsake home, country and +kindred, to fight God's battles in new and strange countries. When he +paused, before touching his real theme, he had the ears of his +congregation. He indulged in no gestures, his familiar tones fell +quietly. So far, what he had said was preparatory, novel neither in +theme nor treatment. None knew better than he how sadly his parishioners +were lacking in imagination. His success, as a preacher, had not been +gained by dealing with abstractions or by inviting ill-educated persons +to transplant themselves to surroundings and conditions which the wisest +of moderns find difficulty in apprehending. Hamlin believed in the +personal appeal. + +He leaned forward out of his pulpit, gazing keenly at the faces upturned +to his. + +"I am wondering," he said slowly, "how many of you young unmarried men +will be here a few Sundays from now?" + +He paused again. His voice was gentler: + +"I am wondering, also, what the mothers and sisters and sweethearts of +these young men are thinking to-day, and what part they mean to +play--to-morrow." Then he said austerely: "Where the heart is right, +there is true patriotism." + +Many hearts began to beat faster, as he went on, picking his way, +pausing again and again, but never faltering. The Squire, upright in his +comfortable chair, became conscious of the man's grip upon everybody +present, gentle and simple. He could see their tense faces. + +"I have never doubted one great thing. I believe in the soul and its +immortality. In God's sight all souls are equal, because they are part +of Him. From birth that soul is struggling to inform the body, in all +its functions. It never tires; it never despairs. I dare to affirm that +it is most active when body and mind are fighting against it, spurning +it, denying, perhaps, its very existence or power. I affirm, further, +that this quickening spirit within us may be least potent to achieve its +purpose when body and mind are stagnant, steeped in apathy, content with +the things of this earth, food, drink, clothes, money and--pleasure. + +"Try to believe, for a moment, that your souls are omnipotently right. +In the text I have chosen, Bishop Berkeley uses the word 'heart.' I take +it that he meant mind. Are your minds right? Are they working in harmony +with your souls? Each of you is called upon to answer that question in +relation to this world-war, and what that war may demand of each of us. +It is the duty of some of you to go, not grudgingly, not because +pressure is brought to bear upon you, not because you want to pose +before others as more valiant than they are, not for any selfish reason +whatever, but in the same spirit which informed the apostles, men like +yourselves, hard workers, absorbed, as you are, in their own affairs, +who abandoned everything with one unswerving purpose before them--the +regeneration of a world in pain. + +"A great Cause is animating all of us. + +"This war may inspire some of you to actions undreamed of in days of +peace, to a valour which you cannot measure if you would, because the +hour provoking it has not yet come. Sooner or later that hour comes to +the greatest and the humblest. And the manner of our rising to it may +shape anew our lives and other lives, and determine our progress here +and hereafter. From the cradle to the grave, each of us carries a +sleeping energy capable of immense expansion, which wakes when the great +opportunity presents itself. + +"Some of you, I daresay, are unconscious of this latent power. We don't +expect much of a child, do we? A child eats and plays and sleeps. But +children of the tenderest years have performed amazing, incredible +deeds. Why? Because of this Divine fund of spiritual force. And we who +are past middle-age; how difficult it is to say, with any certainty, how +early we began, resolutely, to exercise what is called the human will. + +"I ask you again, are your hearts right? I repeat again that your souls +are right. Obey the voice of conscience, and it will be well with you. +It is the duty of some of us to stay here in Nether-Applewhite. I wish +with all my heart that I could go, but I must stay. A very solemn +obligation rests with the women. I have never doubted the immense +influence consciously or unconsciously exercised by you women over men. +Are your hearts right? Do you realise, thinking, as you must do, of your +dependence upon your bread-winners, that you may be hindering instead of +helping those whom you love; that, in urging them to stay at home, you +may be taking from them an opportunity to rise to their full stature, +never to be offered again? + +"What does Bishop Berkeley mean by _true_ patriotism? + +"Are the Germans true patriots? Let us admit that they are passionate +lovers of their Fatherland. But their patriotism would seem to be an +insensate fury of self-interest, shrinking from no outrage to be +inflicted on others, provided only that the material end be +accomplished--world-dominion. I cannot bring myself to speak, before +young women and children, of the atrocities deliberately wreaked upon +helpless Belgians. They are so abominable that details are unprintable +in clean newspapers. + +"Is, then, their form of patriotism true? + +"What form will your patriotism take? Will it be true, springing to life +and strength, out of a right mind inspired by the soul; or will it +pattern itself after the Prussian model, concerning itself with material +gain regardless of spiritual loss? + +"Ask yourself these things. + +"Before I close I want to say this. For many years I have worked amongst +you, in sickness and in health, in prosperity and adversity, and your +welfare is dear to me. Sometimes I have felt discouraged, acutely +sensible of failure and disappointment. For many of you I have cherished +ambitions, and some of these have been realised. And it is this which +has sustained and fortified me in the dark hours which none can escape. +What one can do may be done by another; not in the same way, perhaps, +but in the same direction--upward and onward. I believe, with all the +faith that is in me, that you will rise, with right and steadfast +hearts, to meet this stupendous emergency. I am at your service. My +house is open to you when I am in it. If you want counsel, if you feel +perplexed, as you may well do, come to me, and together we will attempt +to find a way. I shall not appeal to any one of you, personally." + +The congregation filed out of the church. Many walked home in silence. +Alfred Yellam booked no orders in the churchyard on that Sunday. Susan +Yellam smelt no odour of baked meats as she passed the baker's. Uncle, +after greeting them not so exuberantly as usual, said with conviction: + +"A very moving and proper discourse. 'Tis strange that me and Pa'son do +think just alike. I felt as I might ha' been preaching that upliftin' +sermon myself. His motter be mine--upward and onward! He be counting on +me to play my part, and I shan't disapint 'un." + +His wife said tartly: + +"There be one preacher you'll never disappoint, Habakkuk." + +"You means Pa'son?" + +"I means--yourself." + +Uncle laughed, patting her shoulder. + +"Old dear, I've heard 'ee make more foolish remarks." + +Mrs. Yellam said no word about the sermon till the midday meal was over. +When Alfred had lighted his pipe, she came and sat near him. + +"Alferd?" + +"Yes, Mother?" + +"There be moments when Mr. Hamlin do soar, so to speak, high above me. I +be a very unhappy 'ooman this day." + +Alfred opened his mouth and left it open, gaping with amazement. The +Parson's sermon had moved him to the marrow, particularly the references +to the women, because he was well aware of the influence exercised over +him by his mother and Fancy, the more percolating because he never +admitted it except to himself. Nevertheless he knew that his mother was +subject to moods and tenses which no ordinary man could conjugate. She +held herself strictly to account upon matters affecting conduct, +somewhat complacently aware that less robust spirits cited her as a +model. Her cocksureness about others, oddly enough, accentuated +pitifully her private opinion about Susan Yellam. From time to time +Alfred alone was privileged to behold this strong woman self-shorn of +her strength. He could remember well a terrible fortnight after Lizzie +died, when Mrs. Yellam lay in bed and refused even his efforts to +console her. The remembrance of her grim, set face came back to him now, +as he stared mutely at her, wondering what he ought to say, and +miserably conscious that the situation lay far beyond him. + +Why should his mother be unhappy? + +Had he been a student of history, he might have reflected that Boadicea, +possibly, ruled wisely everybody except herself. + +Mrs. Yellam continued: + +"I have the notion that Mr. Hamlin expects too much o' me." + +"What a queer, upsetting idea!" + +"I be asking myself if my heart be right. It bain't." + +"Maybe 'tis your stomach, Mother." + +"No, Alferd. I be no true patriot." + +"Well, I never! If such a woman as you are is bogged down, where are we, +I ask?" + +"You be in the right path, Alferd. 'Tis some comfort to think o' that. +Now, let me bide wi' my own thoughts. Fancy be waiting for 'ee. Be kind +to the maid, Alferd, if so be as you find her, like me, down on beam +ends after this marning's sermon." + +"Fancy'll be all right, I wager." + +"Maybe. I tell 'ee this: we women be fearfully and wonnerfully made--a +puzzle to ourselves and all mortal men. That be a fact, my son. I knows +this too hard for any man to understand. If you stayed on here wi' me, +wi' the whole-souled notion o' comforting an unhappy 'ooman, I should +wax peevish wi' 'ee. God forgive us! We be cruel to they we love, when +life goes wrong wi' us." + +Alfred wisely had a squint at his motor-'bus to hearten himself up, and +then took the road to the Vicarage. + +Mrs. Yellam cleared away the dinner-things and washed them up. It was +too early, as yet, to expect visitors. She went into the parlour and +opened the big Bible, staring at Alfred's name and her own. She had rid +herself of him cleverly. Had he stayed, she would have broken down. She +wanted to make him swear to remain in Nether-Applewhite. She had made up +her mind to do so that very morning. Every word spoken by the Parson +seemed to be directed at her; his chance shafts quivered in the heart +that was not right. + +She closed the Bible. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +FANCY'S ORDEAL + + +Parson's methods bore fruit. Within the week several young men came +forward, and certain young women, on their own initiative, formed a +small society to encourage enlistment. Uncle claimed two or three +half-sovereigns from Captain Davenant to which, possibly, he was not +entitled. The Captain raised a protest against one case, having specific +information that female influence had been diligently at work. Uncle +laughed. + +"Ah-h-h! That be true, Captain. But 'twas me as talked first to the +young 'ooman, training her, so to speak, and puttin' my brave words into +her pretty mouth. But I bain't one to keer about money. Everybody knows +that. I be working as never was for my whole Sovereign, King Garge, not +for half 'uns." + +Captain Davenant paid the extra half-sovereign. Uncle's disarming grin +proved irresistible. + +Ultimately, Nether-Applewhite did better than contiguous villages. In +Ocknell, with an impoverished squire and a nonentity for a parson, no +young men came forward during the first three months. + +About Christmas, George Mucklow returned home on leave, hardly +recognisable. Nether-Applewhite was impressed by his martial bearing, +when he strode down the village street, cocking his head at a +much-admired angle, with his buttons shining in the sun. Young Hamlin, +with a corporal's stripes upon his arm, had leave at the same time. +George and he received an ovation, wandering in and out of the cottages, +talking and laughing as if war were the greatest lark in the world. +Recruiting was much stimulated. The girls liked to be seen with a "boy" +in khaki. + +Meanwhile, Lionel Pomfret had been with the gallant Seven Divisions, +sharing their hardships and glories. He wrote home in good spirits, +making light of what he had endured, but a postscript in a letter +received in early December was illuminating. + +"At present I feel that when I return to Nether-Applewhite I shall never +want to leave it again. All the German prisoners taken by our men are +fatly content. One chap, formerly a barber at Nottingham, told me that +he'd been looking for us ever since he joined up!" + +Perhaps the proudest moment of Lady Pomfret's life came to her when she +visited a wounded Green Jacket at Netley, who had been in Lionel's +company. The man said to her: + +"During the retreat from Mons, my lady, the Captain kept up all our +spirits, laughing at us and chaffing us. We loved him." + +So far, Lionel had not been touched, but, much to the anxiety of his +mother, he never mentioned his own health. She knew how delicate his +lungs were. Would they stand the cruel rigours of the trenches in +mid-winter? + +She was now established as the Commandant of the Red Cross Hospital, and +wore a red uniform which became her vastly well. For three months, +preceding Christmas, wounded Belgians were cared for and entertained by +the devoted band of women who rallied round the lady of the manor. Jane +Mucklow cooked for the wounded; Susan Yellam was installed as +bottle-washer in chief. Sir Geoffrey would march through the Long Saloon +and wonder where he was. All the beautiful furniture and porcelain had +been put away. Nine cots on each side of the stately room stood side by +side. In the centre was a large table covered with puzzles and +paraphernalia for indoor games. At smaller tables the convalescents +played interminably at cards, piquet and ecarte. They amused each other +very well, not so dependent upon their entertainers as the Tommies who +succeeded them. One man sang beautifully; another wrote admirable verse. +Before the war, the versifier had been on the staff of a Brussels +newspaper. All these men were unanimous about one thing--an _idee fixe_. +They hoped and prayed that they might never be asked to fight again. +Some declared their intention of remaining for ever and ever in England. +It was heart-breaking to listen to their accounts of ravished and +pillaged Belgium. + +Above them hung the famous French prints. Beautiful, laughing dames and +exquisite cavaliers looked down upon bandaged heads and shattered limbs. +The contrast never failed to strike Sir Geoffrey. His prints stood for +life as he had known it, gay, easy, refined, cultivated, essentially +aristocratic. Was the Old Order, which he loved, passing inexorably out +of sight? Would life, after the war, cease to be leisurely and easy for +the upper classes? Would the payment of a stupendous National Debt fall +upon them? And, if so, how would it be met? Would a triumphant democracy +divide up the big estates? Could they be run properly upon diminished +rent-rolls? + +He confronted these questions ill at ease inwardly. Outwardly, as he had +assured his wife, he carried "a stiff tail." The politeness of the +Belgians oppressed him. If he came into the ward and addressed a man +lying in bed, the poor fellow would struggle to sit up and salute him. +One cheery-faced boy, with eight wounds, passed the time laughing and +crying; then he would fall asleep, smiling in his sleep like a child. + +But recruiting had been damped down by Authority, because housing and +equipment were so short. Sir Geoffrey was not encouraged to stump the +county--as he offered to do--and deliver his lecture. His old +school-fellow at the War Office gave him a hint: + +"We want the men, but not too many at once." + +In the village, women not engrossed with Red Cross work sewed feverishly +upon shirts and pyjamas, and knitted comforters. The Squire examined +some of the pyjamas, and exclaimed: + +"Thank God! I don't have to wear them." + +Shooting and hunting and football went on much as usual, to the +amazement of our French Allies. Some of our cavalry regiments in France +wanted to import a pack of hounds. The French Mandarins forbade it. + +Early in January, a curt telegram from the War Office reached Sir +Geoffrey, as he stood in the hall, after a day in his coverts, shooting +cock-pheasants. + +"Lionel Pomfret wounded, degree not stated." + +Next morning, Sir Geoffrey hastened to London and to the War Office. No +details were forthcoming. The men he saw were kind and sympathetic. +Captain Pomfret might be badly wounded, but the odds were against that. +The anxious father couldn't find out where his son was, or even where he +was likely to be. He engaged rooms at a hotel and spent a wretched +afternoon at his club. Twenty-four hours dragged themselves by. He was +wondering how much longer he could bear the strain, when the second +telegram reached him. + +"Arrived Southampton. Destination unknown. Love. LIONEL." + +The Squire, you may be sure, shared these good tidings with many +friends, who congratulated him warmly. Obviously, the wound must be +light. Exasperations followed, thick and fast. Sir Geoffrey hurried to +the War Office, and thence to the Admiralty, and finally to Waterloo, +where, eventually, he had the joy of seeing his son step out of a train, +with a much-bandaged head, but apparently fit and in the highest +spirits. A bit of shrapnel had knocked him down, inflicting a +superficial scalp-wound, which was healing rapidly. Across his overcoat +was a perfectly-defined cut made by a bullet which had missed him and +killed the man at his side. He shewed his father a scar upon his neck, +where another bullet had grazed him. Lionel talked fast and fluently. He +had been in innumerable small actions since Mons, and had seen whole +regiments cut to bits. + +His destination for the moment was a private hospital for officers in +Belgrave Square. There his wound was dressed, and Sir Geoffrey talked +persuasively to the Sister-in-charge and Surgeon, who, under pressure, +allowed their patient to dine with his father quietly at a club. + +Sir Geoffrey never forgot that dinner. + +War, as soldiers see it, was brought vividly home to him by a young man +who talked of indescribable horrors as if they were negligible. +Everything was accepted by Lionel as part of the "show." The father +listened, thinking of the pin-pricks which, since August, had so +irritated his sensitive skin, and felt grievously ashamed of himself. +But, in Lionel's place, with Lionel's amazing experience, he, too, was +sensible that he would talk coolly. That was part of the tradition of +the Service. Tremendous issues must be so faced. + +He took his son back to Belgrave Square at half-past nine. + +Lionel slept soundly. The Squire lay awake most of the night. Throughout +dinner, he had suppressed his feelings. And on the threshold of the +nursing-home, the father had found no other words than these: + +"It's jolly to have you back again, old chap." + +That was all, and, perhaps, enough. + +In bed, the Squire had no inclination to sleep. He wanted to think +things out. He wanted to adjust past and present conditions, to strike +some happy mean between them. Could he interpret the significance of +this never-ending slaughter? Lionel had told him of a German regiment +pushing too far ahead, and annihilated, not a man left. That had been +described, also, as a "show." + +More--and worse--Lionel ridiculed the suggestion of an early peace. +Kitchener was under the mark. The war was quite likely to last five +years. + +Five years! + +Men such as his son, decent, quiet, sport-loving chaps, admitted with a +laugh--with a laugh!!!--that the enemy was "hot stuff," and that +attrition would determine the end--and nothing else. + +Attrition. + +He attempted to envisage what attrition meant where millions were +engaged. Put the lot at twenty millions. How many would perish? What +Divine Purpose could be accomplished by such a holocaust? + +But his boy was safe for the next few weeks. + +Two days later he brought him back to Pomfret Court. + +Lionel received a soul-warming reception from gentle and simple within +and without a five-mile radius of his home. Apart from the young man's +personal charm and good looks, he happened to be the first officer to +return home wounded. The fact that the wound was not serious, that he +treated it as a convenient peg upon which to hang three weeks' leave, +made no difference. Indeed, it increased rather than diminished his +influence in Nether-Applewhite so far as recruiting was concerned. His +gay voice, his happy inconsequence, the vitality that radiated from him +as he moved briskly from cottage to cottage, or rode up to talk to men +working upon the property, achieved effects so far-reaching that +possibly Hamlin was the only man in the parish able to measure them. The +Squire and Davenant had appealed trenchantly for volunteers, using the +time-worn arguments of Authority and believing sincerely enough that +deaf ears might hear their message if it were shouted loud enough. The +Parson, wiser man, had appealed to those same ears believing, with +greater conviction, that noise and violence, veiled threats, bribery in +any form, would defeat their ends. Right action, he contended, would +come from within, at the persuasive, insistent call of conscience. +Lionel Pomfret hit the trail--to use the Western expression--which +wanders between the high road and the low. Looking at the gallant +fellow, sitting erect on his horse, it seemed clear even to eyes dimmed +by living in the twilight of unintellectual surroundings, that he +impersonated something which captivates the rural mind more than +anything else--excitement. Lionel told the labourers, none of whom had +been farther afield than Salisbury or Southampton, stories of France +bubbling over with humour and high spirits. And if this +light-heartedness had astonished his father, we can imagine what +bewilderment it begat in simpler minds. Many of them realised that in +holding back they were missing _fun_! One hardly dares to use such a +word. But it burst, like a bomb, from the lips of a man who had been +"out there," who had been "through it," who bore scars, and who laughed +at them. + +Many joined up; more held back. + +Laugh as he did about everything that concerned his own adventures and +misadventures, Lionel became intensely serious concerning the main +issue, trembling still in the balance. Kitchener of Khartoum must have +more and more men. Otherwise, the sacrifices made and the hardships +endured by the splendid Seven Divisions would be in vain, and, +ultimately, directly or indirectly, the enemy would triumph. + +Charles, the second footman, and the odd man, enlisted within a week of +Lionel's return home. Their places in the establishment were taken by +maids. + +Upon the first Sunday in February fill-dyke, Alfred Yellam walked out, +as usual, with Fancy. She had noticed, during the Morning Service, that +Mrs. Yellam's responses were not quite so fervent as usual, and the +sermon, a good one, seemed to fail to hold Alfred's attention. +Servant-maids are acute observers where their interests are concerned. +They divine a frown before the master's forehead is wrinkled; they +anticipate a harsh word before it is spoken by the mistress. Alfred +walked beside Fancy in silence. This, taken by itself, was not +disturbing. The more privileged classes often wonder why humbler couples +sitting upon benches in the parks, or walking aimlessly amongst the +trees, appear to be so satisfied with a silence which they stigmatise as +stupidity. If, on the other hand, curiosity led our Olympians to +interrogate the more thoughtful of these couples, they might be +astonished to discover that the never-ending chatter in our +drawing-rooms provokes much the same indictment from those whom they +regard as far below them. The shrill screams of laughter, the +parrot-house babble, fox-trotting, and the bacchantic waving of arms +bare to the shoulder are often summed up as--"monkey-shines." To men and +women who work desperately hard throughout the week, the silences of +Sunday steal unawares, lapping them to a rest which is real refreshment. +Fancy, for example, loved to stroll beside Alfred, feeling his sturdy +arm about her waist, and knowing from its convincing pressure that his +thoughts were dwelling upon her as hers dwelt upon him, revelling in a +future which would bring them closer together. + +But, to-day, somehow, his silence was not so reassuring. + +For the time of year, the weather happened to be mild. Spring was abroad +in the land. Fancy heard her voice in the bleating of the new-born +lambs; she beheld her in the snow-drops; Spring's sweet breath beat upon +a pink cheek when the south-west breeze sighed in the yews and +pine-tops. + +And yet, misgivings assailed the maid. + +They had walked from the Vicarage, through Nether-Applewhite, and past +Mrs. Yellam's cottage whither they would return for tea. Fancy had +learnt to love the village with its general air of sleepy, comfortable +prosperity. She would be perfectly content to live here all her days. +Occasional jaunts to Sarum or to the exciting side-shows of Boscombe and +Bournemouth could only serve to enhance the more solid charms of home. +Alfred had spoken once, at the moment when they left the _Sir John +Barleycorn_ tavern behind them. + +"Do you like William Saint, Fancy?" + +"No." + +"Why?" + +"I don't know, Alfie. I ain't never spoken to him, nor him to me. 'Tis +his face, I suppose." + +"Mother thinks he's a danger to me." + +"Gracious!" + +"William moves with the times, a far-seeing man. And snug, with money in +bank and credit, too. Mother says he's after my business. I got ahead by +buying my motor-'bus. Yes--William Saint might have sneaked my good +business. He knows folk far and wide, as I do. That's bread and cheese +to a carrier. And he knows how to tickle 'em with pleasant words. That's +cakes and ale." + +He said no more. Fancy felt vaguely troubled. She had taken Alfred's +profitable business for granted. Fellow-servants and villagers had +assured her, with a sub-acid inflection underlying congratulation, that +she was lucky indeed to have got so warm a man as the carrier. Like most +of her class, she entertained nebulous ideas about how money was made, +although she had been constrained all her life to use such money as came +to her thriftily and with a very lively sense of its elusive attributes +in slipping through careless fingers. The slow building-up of a business +had never engrossed her thoughts. But she knew well enough, poor child, +how rapidly such a business may disintegrate, and fall to pieces. That +calamity had been her father's bitter experience. + +They followed the Avon, strolling leisurely up-stream till they reached +a small covert much beloved by hunting-men because it always harboured a +stout fox. + +"Let's go in wood," said Alfred. + +"Won't it be damp, dear?" + +"I want to talk to you." + +Her heart beat faster. Something was coming--What? + +Alfred led the way to a hurdler's hut, a rough shed, where the lovers +sat down upon a heap of dry chips. A delicious smell of bark filled the +air. George Mucklow had worked here often, before he was dragooned into +the Army. With the smell of bark, dominating it, rose the odour of damp +earth, always so significant, bearing its double message. From earth we +have come; to it we must return. Fancy's sensitive nose could detect yet +another odour. An ancient coat, much soiled by time and weather, had +been thrown upon the pile of chips. In an olfactory sense the coat was +eloquent of labour, of long perspiring hours and all that such hours +hold. Fancy's nostrils were not offended. But she refused to sit on it. +Alfred, wearing his Sunday best, was not so particular. + +He wasted little time in preliminaries. And he spoke with a geniality +assumed, as Fancy guessed, for her benefit. + +"The young Captain," he began, "has stirred us all up with his pleasant +tongue. Now don't jump! Let me tell my tale." + +He told it simply. Upon the previous Friday, it appeared, Alfred had +fallen into talk with the Pavey boys, who worked on a farm between +Nether-Applewhite and Salisbury. The Paveys were reckoned by Sir +Geoffrey to be stout specimens of sound breeding. Jemima Pavey, it may +be recalled, "walked out" with William Busketts, the odd man. It is +likely, therefore, that the enlistment of William affected profoundly +Jemima's brothers, both single, both of military age. Alfred, urged on, +no doubt, by Lionel Pomfret, had taken upon himself the task of +persuading the Paveys to follow William to the wars. According to +Alfred, a hot discussion had ensued. The Paveys were regarded by the +Squire as sound in body but weak and plastic of mind. Wiser men than the +Autocrat of Nether-Applewhite consistently underrated the intelligence +of young men like the Paveys, abnormally acute when stimulated by +self-interest. Ultimately, so Alfred said, the Paveys had twitted him +offensively upon the fact that he preached what he did not practise. +And, oddly enough, poor Alfred was not prepared for this sudden turning +of tables. He, too, was single and of military age. The fact that he +happened to be engaged in a lucrative business served to sharpen railing +tongues. At long last, after much vituperation (as Alfred admitted) on +both sides, the Paveys had delivered a momentous ultimatum. They pledged +themselves to enlist at once, if Alfred agreed to join them. More, they +were prepared to answer for half-a-dozen others. To gain time for +thought, Alfred invited them to obtain some similar pledge from these +others. And, before Service that morning, the pledge had been +forthcoming. In time, if Alfred donned khaki, eight of the best would +follow so striking an example. Alfred concluded pleasantly: + +"You see, Fancy, that I'm up against it." + +Engrossed with his own exciting narrative, he had failed to notice her. +From the beginning of the tale to the end, she never moved. The +impending sword had fallen upon her frail body, lacerating cruelly every +fibre of her being. All fears, all sensibilities which from birth had +differentiated her from more robust young women, sensibilities which +dwelt upon things spiritual rather than material, sensibilities which +had been further quickened by her father's unmerited misfortunes, +constraining her early in life to envisage the future as likely to hold +more pain than pleasure, these rose up and choked utterance. Had Alfred +looked at her, at this poignant moment, his decision--not as yet +reached---might have been different. He looked away from her, staring +through the open side of the hut, seeing the rows and rows of trees, +standing like soldiers, awaiting the inevitable axe. + +Presently Fancy said quietly: + +"Have you spoken to your mother? Does she know?" + +Alfred turned, taking her hand. But the supreme moment had passed. Fancy +was now herself again, or rather she had become what her will and +conscience made her to appear--an outwardly calm young woman, who, +having swiftly read her own soul, was seeking to read the soul of the +man beside her. + +Alfred answered hesitatingly: + +"Mother's wonderful. I never quite understand her. I ain't said a word, +but back of her dear mind is something." + +"Are you going to tell her?" + +Alfred squirmed a little, certain that Mrs. Yellam would oppose his +going. And he could not reckon accurately what obedience he owed to a +mother in such a matter. He said gently: + +"Never mind that, Fancy. What do you say?" + +He held her hand tightly, but sat beside her rigid as she was. +Afterwards, again and again, she wondered what her reply would have been +if her lover, at such a crisis, had appealed to her body instead of to +her mind. If he had seized her in his arms, kissing her passionately, +evoking a passionate response from her, exciting her physical senses, +lulling to sleep her conscience, could she have resisted such an appeal? + +It was not made. Did he deliberately leave her free to speak calmly, as +he had spoken? Was he thinking of her? Was he thinking of his mother? +Who could blame him if all thought were focussed upon himself? And his +next words confirmed her suspicion that it was impossible for any man, +at such a time, to wean consideration from issues so personal and so +insistent. + +"That's why I spoke to you about William Saint. If I go, Fancy, I must +find a man to take my place, see? 'Taint likely as I'll find anybody who +knows folk as I knows 'em. And if William Saint sneaks in, maybe I won't +find what I leave when I come back." + +He spoke very earnestly, gripping her hand. Her sympathy for him welled +up, drowning all thoughts of self. Alfred had leapt to heights. She +realised the extent of the sacrifice he might make. And she felt, +instinctively, that the sacrifice would be made. A curious exaltation +possessed her. Alfred had thrilled her soul. If he went, true +patriotism, as Mr. Hamlin interpreted the elusive word, would be behind +his going. And he looked so stolid, dear man, so unconscious of the +spiritual forces stirring within him. + +She said impulsively: + +"You mean to go, Alfie?" + +"If you approve." + +She drew a deeper breath. Then the decision rested with her. If she +burst into tears, if she flung herself into his arms, if she whispered +to him, blushingly, the arguments which come pat to any woman's tongue, +when her happiness is at stake, he would stay. The burden laid upon her +seemed greater than she could bear. Her withers were wrung. In her +perplexity she lurched here and there, staggeringly. She caught at +straws. + +"And if your mother disapproves?" + +"Ah-h-h! Maybe she will." + +"But, if she does--? Answer me, Alfie. I be hanging on your words." + +He said heavily: + +"I ain't one for argument. I only know this, dear, if I go, others will +go, too. And the men are wanted, so Captain Lionel says. And if he says +so, 'tis so. I feel as I ought to go, if you approve. When it comes to +Mother, I'm weak-kneed. If I leave her out, Fancy, 'tis because I know +what's tearing her, the thought of the graves in churchyard. 'Tain't in +Mother as 'tis in you, to stand hand in hand with me, and forget her +dear self." + +Desperately, she clutched at another straw. + +"You may be right, Alfie, about Mr. Saint--I don't like him. I feel, +someway, that he will do as you say, sneak in behind your back, and rob +you of what you have worked so hard for. Could you stand that?" + +"'Twould be a rare twister, Fancy. But the men are wanted." + +He spoke with no fire, no enthusiasm. The men were wanted. That, +apparently, had become an obsession. Dared she temporise any further? +Was this the opportunity, never to be presented again, of which Mr. +Hamlin had spoken? + +"If you feel like that, Alfie, you must go. I--I couldn't lift a finger +to hold you back. I am proud," her voice faltered, "to belong to such a +man." + +The victory was won. + +Reaction followed quickly. They clung to each other. Fancy cried, +knowing that tears would lighten her heart. Alfred kissed them away. He +set himself, resolutely, the task of cheering her up. The war might be +over before he was ready to serve in France. William Saint had his own +business. One that exacted constant attention. No doubt a trusty fellow +could be found to drive the 'bus. + +At tea, no trace of the storm could be discerned on their smiling faces. + +But Mrs. Yellam knew. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS + + +Alfred Yellam enlisted. But only seven out of the eight other young men +enlisted with him. To the amazement of Nether-Applewhite, Adam Mucklow, +a married man, took the place of the shirker. And this was not under +pressure from Uncle, although he tried (and failed) to "touch" old +Captain Davenant for another half-sovereign. Possibly the sight of the +effulgent George--a younger brother not held in the highest esteem by +Adam--had its effect; possibly, also, Adam had been swept off his large +feet by Lionel Pomfret; possibly, again, Hamlin's good seed may have +sprouted in somewhat thin soil. Motives must not be analysed too +closely. + +Susan Yellam and Jane Mucklow said nothing. Susan may have realised that +protest would be wasted; Jane, probably, was just as shrewd. Each woman +cherished a bitter grievance, hiding it grimly from inquisitive eyes. +Each read the heart of the other, and still remained silent. Each, +however, was proud to be the mother of a valiant son. Mrs. Yellam never +knew that a tremendous decision had been left to Fancy. She took for +granted that Fancy felt as she did, and the pale, anxious face of the +girl confirmed this conviction. Alfred, you may be sure, made Fancy +promise to keep silence concerning what passed in the fox-covert. To her +dying day let the mother believe that the son had acted "on his own," +without consulting another. Fancy sighed and consented. What did it +matter? What did anything matter now that Alfred was going? During these +last few days, the spiritual part of her seemed dead. Triumph appeared +to have killed it! But her will prevailed over the weakness of the +flesh. Alfred must see no more tears. Her smile was the most pathetic +memory which he took with him from Nether-Applewhite. + +Before "joining-up," he gave two presents to the women he loved. To his +mother he brought a wire-haired fox-terrier, pure white save for one +round black spot between the ears and an oval black spot upon the loins. +The dog was nine months old and clean thoroughbred, the son of a famous +prize-winner. Alfred paid five pounds for him. Mrs. Yellam was +profoundly moved; and the dog seemed to acclaim her as mistress at +sight, jumping into her ample lap and licking her hand. + +"What shall we call him, Mother?" asked Alfred. + +Mrs. Yellam studied the dog's lineaments. His eyes sparkled as shrewdly +as her own. + +"He looks wonnerful wise," she said. "Wise as Solomon, he be." + +"Then we'll call him--Solomon." + +And it was so. Solomon--soon abbreviated into "Sol"--wagged his short +tail approvingly. + +To Fancy Alfred presented a bicycle, and with it these words: + +"Vicarage is nigh three-quarters of a mile from Mother's cottage. I want +you to see Mother whenever 'tis possible. I know her. She'll keep +herself to herself, thinking her own thoughts, and they'll be hard +thoughts, Fancy. You'll help to soften 'em, dear, won't you?" + +"Indeed I will." + +"Parson'll let you off, afternoons, for an hour, maybe; and the bike'll +make all the difference. I see you nipping down in no time." + +"I shall love that, if Mr. Hamlin can spare me." + +Alfred laughed gaily. + +"I've spoken a word to him. And a kinder gentleman, in spite of his +coldish face, I never met. He shook hands with me, and told me you +should have a whiff of fresh air." + +And thus it was cosily arranged. + +To find a responsible, capable fellow to take his place as village +carrier, and to drive the precious 'bus, was not so easy of achievement. +But this, too, was managed through Mr. Hamlin. Alfred said uneasily: + +"I ask you, sir, to keep an eye on William Saint." + +"William Saint?" + +"He's crafty as any fox, sir, and a rare pusher. Mother fears that he +may push himself into my good business." + +Hamlin promised to bear this possibility in mind. Then Alfred, with +groanings and travailings, delivered himself of the last burden on his +mind: + +"I'm sore troubled about Mother." + +Hamlin held his tongue. + +"She's taking this hard, but not a word does she say, not one. She +thinks, I know, that God Almighty has forsaken her, pore soul. Such a +mort o' trouble as she's had, too. My going seems the last straw. +'Twouldn't be so bad, if all the young men had gone first." + +"I can imagine what she feels, Alfred. This is a time of sore trial to +all of us, and, perhaps, the strongest suffer most. I will do what I can +to comfort her, but I can do so little. In all my life I have never felt +before how cheap mere words are. Now, go your way with a glad heart. Put +these anxieties from you, hopefully, and so you will do your duty the +better. God bless you!" + +Alfred duly departed. + +Before Lionel returned to France, the Squire's ardent desire was +granted. He became the happy grandfather of a stout boy, with his sire's +blue eyes and clear skin--a ten-pounder! + +To celebrate this glorious event, the Squire built a shrine and +dedicated it to the men of Nether-Applewhite who had answered the call +to arms. It took the form of a fountain, with a granite trough for +watering horses. Inside the fountain might be found a great slab of +white marble with the names of the young fellows, in order, inscribed +upon it in dull gold lettering, a very notable monument, as Uncle +observed. It stood below the Church, opposite to the _Pomfret Arms_, in +an open space where roads branched. Folk, from far and near, came to +look at it. + +From the recruiting point of view, the fountain, as was generally +admitted, furnished inspiration together with pure water to thirsty +souls. + +When Lionel went back to France, a drab pall of apathy settled again +upon the village. Mrs. Yellam spent every morning at Pomfret Court, +returning to her cottage after the mid-day meal, which she helped to +serve. Fancy would dash down to see her after five o'clock tea. Within +six weeks Alfred appeared in khaki, with forty-eight hours' leave. He +had joined an infantry regiment, somewhat to his regret, for he had a +leg for a kilt, and remembered the resplendent appearance of "No Account +Harry." + +"The Highlanders were in my mind, Mother. I'd a notion to enlist with +them, but 'twas not to be." + +Susan Yellam said reflectively: + +"I prefer the Grannydeer Guards, to they Seafarin' Highlanders, Alfie." + +"Ah-h-h! I might have gone for a horse-soldier, but when they told me +'twould be my pleasure and duty to keep my horse cleaner than myself, I +thought twice about it. 'Tis a hard life, dear, but I feel wonderful +strong, with a tremendous stomach for my victuals." + +His appearance delighted Fancy. + +They were photographed together, arm in crook, travelling to Salisbury +as passengers in Alfred's 'bus, which provoked many jests. But when +Alfred went back to duty the corners in two hearts seemed more empty +than before. + +Meanwhile, Tommies had taken the place of Belgians at Pomfret Court, +much to the satisfaction of the maids in the village. They were an +amazing set of fellows, so the Squire decided, guests after his own +heart, always ready to crack a joke, grousing about trifles, simply +splendid when they discoursed about the war. Some of them, unlike the +Belgians, were impatient to return to the front. They talked pleasantly +of the enemy whom they spoke of generically as "Fritz." The +kindest-hearted of the first lot, a little Cockney, bubbling over with +fun and high spirits, ever ready to help the "Sisters" in any job that +came to the one hand that had not been left in France, gloried in the +distinction of having been in a bayonet charge. The Squire, much +interested, asked for details, gleefully forthcoming. + +"Yer see red, sir. I got after a fat 'Un. Lord lumme! 'E run a fair +treat, 'e did. But I stuck him to rights. I lost my 'ead though. +Couldn't see nothink nor nobody except 'im. In my silly 'aste I missed +some fine opportoonities." + +"Opportunities?" + +"Wounded 'Uns, sir, lyin' there to me 'and. I might 'ave 'ad +'arf-a-dozen notches on my old rifle, instead of one!" + +"Bless my soul!" exclaimed Sir Geoffrey. + +"Yer see, sir, we knows what they done to women and children." + +By this time. George Mucklow and the first to join were at the front, +and every Sunday, during Morning Service, Mr. Hamlin would stand up, +before the Litany, and read out the names on the Roll of Honour. The +congregation, after Service, remained quietly in the church till the +National Anthem had been sung. + +Mrs. Yellam sat alone in her pew, rigidly upright. + +At home, alone in the evening, she talked to her dog. Solomon would sit +in front of her, staring up into her massive face, with one ear +half-cocked, very alert, very sympathetic. + +"You be a wondersome dog." + +Solomon's tail flickered. + +"You knows more'n they donkeys as walks on two legs." + +Solomon winked. + +"You knows what a hard old flint I be, same as I digs up in garden." + +Solomon laid a protesting paw upon her knee. + +"You knows that I be tried beyond my powers, that I be mazed and dazed +beyond what tongue can tell." + +Solomon leaped into her lap, and attempted to lick her face. + +"No, no, Solly; my kissing days be over." + +Solomon refused to believe this. + +"You knows, too, that my Alferd be going to the wars, and he won't come +back. 'Twill kill that pore white-faced lil' maid. But 'twon't kill me, +I be too tough, Sol. I be getting tougher. And I get no taste out o' +life neither. I be so wicked that, times, I could lift my hand to kill +they who stay behind, guzzling ale, grinning because they think +theirselves so clever! I fair wonders that you can love so wicked an old +'ooman as I be." + +Solomon, as a last reassuring protest, would curl up and fall asleep. +Mrs. Yellam would sit on, staring into the fire, trying to adjust the +workings of the Divine Mind with her own perplexed intelligence. Often +kindly sleep would come to the rescue, and she would wake with a start +to find the fire burnt out and the kitchen cold. But Solomon lay snug +and warm against her. + +Many persons, besides Mrs. Yellam, were mazed and dazed during these +Spring days. At Neuve Chapelle, our cavalry had their feet in stirrup +ready to ride down the enemy, when a thick mist rolled up and balked +them of their prey. Jupiter Pluvius seemed to be fighting against us. +The appalling earthquake in Italy was joyously affirmed by Germans to be +God's judgment upon an ally who had deserted them. Strikes in the +industrial parts, Irish troubles going from bad to worse, seemed to +indicate the chastening hand of Omnipotence. + +But we had accomplished a mighty miracle. + +Five hundred thousand men were in France, and not a life lost during the +perilous operations connected with transport. + +And then came the crushing disaster of the _Lusitania_. A wave of horror +and rage swept over the country. Till now, Lissauer's "Hymn of Hate" had +aroused ridicule, not resentment, amongst English-speaking peoples. The +Belgian atrocities, known in all their horror to very few, had been +accepted as the handiwork of brutes driven mad by drink and blood-lust, +not as the systematic, inspired doctrine of Frightfulness. But when all +Germany rose up to justify the slaughter of helpless women and children, +when streets were beflagged, medals struck, and the schools held +holiday, the nation began, at last, to grasp the truth. Might meant to +stick at nothing. + +Recruiting, in the rural districts, received a sharp stimulus. + +Fancy, lying awake at night, shed many tears, but none before Mrs. +Yellam. The pair, so strangely different, got on well together, because, +so Susan said, the girl was not a chatter-box. Often they would meet and +part without exchanging more than a dozen words. Fancy would help with +the work, the never-ending cleaning and sweeping, or take some sewing +and sit by the kitchen fire in silence. These quiet ways endeared her +more and more to Alfred's mother, and occasionally, very seldom, Fancy +would be vouchsafed a glimpse of an indurated heart. She had noticed +that Mrs. Yellam avoided any direct reference to the Deity, Whose name, +before the war, had been so often on her lips, the personal God, Whose +guiding finger, even in trivial, domestic affairs, could be so plainly +seen. One day, on the eve of Alfred's departure for France, Fancy said +nervously: + +"God will be with Alfred." + +Mrs. Yellam said quickly: + +"He be wi' the Kayser, too, seemin'ly." + +Instantly she closed her lips, as if fearful that more might leak from +them. Fancy remained discreetly silent. She comforted herself with this +reflection: faith in works sustained this unhappy old woman. She +laboured abundantly for others at Pomfret Court, and tended her garden +diligently so that she might have fruit and flowers and vegetables to +bestow upon poorer neighbours. In church, her responses were clear and +regular, her deportment irreproachable, but she never discussed the +sermon, once a favourite mental exercise, and Fancy came to the +conclusion that she no longer listened to it, too much obsessed by her +own perplexities. + +About this time Nether-Applewhite was electrified out of its apathy by +an extraordinary event, something so unexpected that Hamlin himself, who +had foreshadowed such a remote possibility in his sermon on Patriotism, +began to wonder if he had been inspired. + +George Mucklow won the Victoria Cross! + +This heavy, stolid young man, who shut both eyes when his shins were +imperilled by a cricket-ball, who was "afeard wi' maids," who had been +driven to the colours before the toe of a thick boot, performed one of +those deeds that thrill an Empire. Fortunately for him, the tremendous +opportunity of which Hamlin had spoken came at a moment when Authority +was looking on, and able to record what took place. George confessed +afterwards that at the time he didn't know what he did, or how he did +it. Out of some subconscious zone surged the irresistible impulse +blindly obeyed. A shell fell in the trenches at a moment when the +officer on duty was making his rounds. Not an "Archie" or a "Black +Maria" but something smaller than a football. Dozens of men were close +to it. George darted past the officer and hurled himself upon it. + +_It didn't explode!_ + +Within a week, George's photograph was given pride of place in +half-a-dozen newspapers. And then the supreme decoration was conferred. +He returned home on leave; the King pinned to his tunic the bronze +cross; Jane Mucklow and Uncle witnessed the ceremony; George came back +to Nether-Applewhite with his parents, and was the hero of another +function when Sir Geoffrey Pomfret presented him with a gold watch and +chain, a tribute from the Squire of the parish, and a well-lined purse, +the gift of the parishioners. + +The effect on Uncle may be imagined. For ever after he associated +himself with George as owning an undivided half interest in the cross, +and in describing the glorious deed he assumed the royal plural, and +with it some of the attributes of a monarch. + +"Us was standing at attention," he would say, "as I be standing now, +when the dam thing falls slam-bang in front of we. Neighbours, 'twas a +moment as won't bear thinking on. Many souls all unfit for Kingdom Come. +What does we do? We falls atop o' that there cannon-ball--'twas big +enough to blow a thousand fellers to glory--and hugs it to our buzzums. +'Tain't a thing to brag about, but us was in the noospapers, and--and, +well, you knows the end on't--Buckingham Pallis! And, believe me or not, +neighbours, but this be sober truth. Me and King Garge was hobnobbing +together for the space of one mortial minute, just so friendly and kind +as true brothers. I nodded to 'un, as I nods to you, and, by Jo! he nods +back to me." + +Jane Mucklow had believed that George would perish in his first action. +He had come triumphantly through half-a-dozen. And, to-day, he wore the +proudest decoration that England's King can bestow. At a bound, she +became an impassioned optimist. She discerned clearly the hand of +Providence. King George was beheld as the Lord's Anointed. Queen Mary +towered higher than he as the sacrosanct Mother. Mrs. Mucklow had her +tale to tell, and told it with Uncle's unction and satisfaction. + +"Queen Mary looked at my Garge as if 'twas her own dear son. Yes, she +did. And then she smiles sweetly at me. I tell 'ee this--Queeny Mary was +just so proud o' my Garge as I be. A good, kind 'ooman! I allows that, +now and again, I ha' raised my blasphemious voice against they crowned +heads, believing in my every-day way that they wore golden crowns when +we pore folks was a-wearing made-over bonnets. Such wicked thoughts be +clean gone from me. I be fair aching to sing 'God save the Queen' next +Sunday morning." + +A neighbour remarked timidly: + +"Lard bless 'ee, Jane Mucklow, we sings 'God save the King.'" + +Jane answered solemnly: + +"You sings what you please. I began my life singing 'God save the +Queen.' And I means to sing it again next Sunday." + +But the glory that encompassed her nephew's thick head as with a halo +flickered like a farthing dip in the mind of Susan Yellam. Her poor +heart was lacerated by envy and jealousy. If George were indeed chosen +by Providence to wear the Victoria Cross, what decoration would He award +to her Alfred? The press had laid emphasis upon George being amongst the +first to volunteer. If Queeny Mary knew the whole truth, would she have +smiled sweetly at George's mother? Not she! + +She laid the matter before Solomon that same night, after the memorable +function which took place at the Shrine. + +"Solly, my soul be in sore trouble." + +Solomon considered this attentively. + +"Yes, my dog, I be setting in the seat o' the scornful. I be weary o' my +groanings. I ha' conceived sorrow and brought forth ungodliness." + +Solomon whined. + +"Why be this change come upon me, Solly? 'Tis written: Upon the ungodly +He shall rain fire and brimstone, storm and tempest. But, to-day, +seemingly, that be the lot o' the godly and the fatherless. To the +ungodly be given Victoria Crosses." + +Solomon sat up and begged his mistress to be silent. + +She concluded sorrowfully: + +"I be cast down, and they that trouble me will rejoice at it." + +Solomon leapt into her lap, and thrust his nice cold nose against her +cheek. + +Hamlin visited her from time to time, but as friend, not priest. Wisely, +he bided his time to speak, wondering when the right moment would come. +She received him respectfully, answered his questions, enquired after +Mr. Edward, who had just received his Sam Brown belt, and then relapsed +into exasperating silence. + +Meanwhile, Mr. William Saint had not neglected his opportunities. The +man chosen by Hamlin and Alfred to "carry on" during Alfred's absence +was sober and honest, but a poor talker. Saint bought a motor-'bus in +May, which he used at first to take passengers to and from the railway +station, some four miles distant. At the same time, he made arrangements +to entertain summer guests, renting a small house with a garden +overlooking the Avon, which served as an annexe for middle class +trippers, elderly spinsters who drew in water-colours, officers' wives +with children, and professional men seeking a little cheap fishing. +Saint drove the 'bus himself, engaging a good-looking young woman to +take his place in the bar. Now and again he made expeditions to +Salisbury, filling his 'bus with strangers who wished to see the +Cathedral. Before June was out, he started a bi-weekly trip. In July he +began carrying parcels. + +Hamlin, accordingly, said a word to the Squire. But what could be done? +The Squire and he stuck faithfully to the regular carrier. Others +consulted their own convenience. Mrs. Yellam told Fancy that Alfred's +business was steadily diminishing in volume. + +"Have you told Alfred?" asked Fancy. + +"No. And don't 'ee tell him, neither." + +"Not me. Anyways, so long as dear Alfred be safe and well, I shan't +worry about money matters." + +Mrs. Yellam said tartly: + +"Folks wi' no money to lose can allers sleep sound at nights." Then, +realising that she had slapped an innocent cheek, she added in a +pleasanter voice: "If Alferd keep safe and well, he'll downscramble this +raskil so soon as he be homealong." + +Fancy kissed her. + +"He will be homealong soon," she whispered. + +"How do 'ee know? You ain't got a letter saying so?" + +"N-n-no." + +Mrs. Yellam's voice became testy again. + +"Then how do 'ee know?" + +Fancy hesitated, blushing. But Mrs. Yellam pressed her point. Finally, +the girl made confession. When Alfred went to France, she had consulted +the cards. + +Mrs. Yellam exploded. What ridiculous notions young maids got, to be +sure! Cards, indeed! Very scornfully, she informed Fancy of the +existence of a so-called wise woman, half-gypsy, who lived in a +tumble-down cottage at Ocknell. + +"You go and see that old grammer. 'Twill cost 'ee sixpence. For a +shillin' she'll tell 'ee a fine fortin, marry 'ee to a young lord, and +make 'ee the mother o' nine children. I ha' no patience wi' such +tricks." + +Fancy said humbly: + +"Alfred thinks it foolishness, just as you do, but ..." + +"Well?" + +"The lady in Salisbury, as taught me, did say that I should marry a +soldier. Alfred laughed at that, till--till he became one." + +"You bain't married to a soldier yet." + +"No. That's true." + +Fancy sighed. Mrs. Yellam went on with some knitting. Suddenly, she said +sharply: + +"What did they cards say?" + +Fancy smiled faintly. + +"They said that Alfred would come back--soon." + +Mrs. Yellam knitted on. After a long pause, she pronounced a verdict. + +"I bain't one to talk about what I don't understand. If so be as Alfred +comes back soon, and if he marries 'ee, I may own up that cards do tell +truth sometimes." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE EMPTY PEW + + +After her Alfred went to the front, Mrs. Yellam's interest in the +Tommies who had been "over the top" became more acute. She listened to +everything said, regardless of a timely caution from Lionel Pomfret, +who, before he rejoined his battalion, warned her that Mr. Atkins, with +all his glorious qualities, was not too scrupulous a respecter of the +truth. When the wounded men fell to talking amongst themselves, or +before sympathetic females, the hypercritical might have noted a valiant +determination on the part of each speaker to go "one better" than his +predecessor. And the essential fact that these boys, most of them under +twenty-five years of age, laughed at and chaffed each other when +relating horrors merely piled Pelion upon Ossa in the mind of Mrs. +Yellam. It seemed to her--and to how many more mothers?--that none could +escape death or mutilation. One man was dumb from shell-shock. A "Black +Maria" had buried him and ten others. He alone survived, unable to tell +in speech what he had undergone. Mrs. Yellam paid this man particular +attention, because her imagination was lively enough to realise what +loss of speech would mean to herself. She told Jane Mucklow, with +portentous shakings of the head, that the poor lad had lost his tongue +for evermore. What else could be expected? Jane, now in happier mood, +remarked sententiously that miracles still happened. Mrs. Yellam smiled +grimly, wondering whether Jane was thinking of what George had done and +accounted that achievement a miracle. And Jane could afford to take a +rosy view of life, inasmuch as Adam was still in England, and George, +with a view to stimulating recruiting, had been given a snug billet at +the depot of his regiment. All the credit due to George had, by this +time, been assumed by Uncle. He not only took part, as has been said, in +the heart-thrilling exploit, but assured everybody that the valour of +his son had been begotten in him by a sire known far and wide to be +without fear, the Bayard of the countryside! Jane accepted this +hypothesis with creditable derision. She would say in reply to strangers +avid for details: "Do 'ee talk to Garge's father. _He was there!_ Garge +be his father's son from stem to starn. My boy'd ha' behaved hisself +very different. He'd ha' crawled down a rabbit-hole, he would, so be as +one were handy." + +Some strangers, pleased with this whimsical exposition, pressed money +into Jane's hand, which she accepted with a humble and grateful heart, +adding even more slily: "Thank 'ee very kindly. Money be scarce wi' us, +since my dear husband's son won the Victoria Cross, because the father +o' such a notable hero has to drink his brave boy's health so many times +a day." + +One memorable night, when most of the Tommies were asleep in the Saloon, +the dumb man burst into excited speech, and talked for about two hours, +to the delight of seventeen comrades. When Mrs. Yellam heard the +wonderful news next morning, she was immensely comforted. That afternoon +Fancy noticed a change in her, and was emboldened to strike iron when it +happened to be hot. + +"Miracles do happen," she affirmed, with an odd expression upon her pale +little face. + +Mrs. Yellam passed no remark on this. In her opinion, formulated long +before the war, miracles had been wrought long ago in the misty, +prehistoric times of the apostles, and not since. Fancy continued +nervously: + +"A miracle happened to me." + +"What do you say, child? A miracle happened to--_you_?" + +Fancy nodded. As a little girl, during her school-days, she had told her +tale many times with the abominable conviction that it failed to +convince, although it might excite astonishment and sympathy. When she +grew older and more reserved she ceased to tell it, wincing from +incredulity. She hated to tell it to this austere old woman, whose +tongue could be so sharp, but impulse conquered apprehension. + +"I was four years old at the time. And I was playing in the street just +opposite to our house with some other children. A great dog came rushing +down on us, snapping right and left. Folks said afterwards he was mad, +but I don't know. Someway he was killed, so Father told me, before that +was made certain; killed and buried." + +"A mad dog! My!" + +"The other children ran away. I--I didn't." + +"Why ever not?" + +"I couldn't. I stood still, all of a dreadful tremble. And he came bang +at me." + +"What a fearsome tale! You pore lil' maid!" + +Up to this point of the narrative, Fancy had generally received just +such sympathy, particularly when telling the story to mothers. She +paused; her cheeks flushed; but her large eyes rested tranquilly upon +the eyes of Susan Yellam. + +"Well, dear, go on!" + +"When the dog was quite close, I saw Mother." + +Mrs. Yellam gasped. + +"You saw your mother, who was dead!" + +"I never think of Mother as dead. Yes, I saw Mother standing between me +and the dog. She never looked at me; she looked at the dog. And the dog +saw her." + +"I never heard such a tale in all my life." + +"The dog saw her. He stopped of a sudden, turned, and went +back--howling. And I howled, too. Mother turned as the dog turned, and +give me one beautiful look. Then she went." + +Mrs. Yellam grasped the arms of her chair, still staring into Fancy's +artless face. But no outburst of incredulity escaped from her as Fancy +had feared it would. Her logical mind grappled with the facts as +presented. She said, after a long pause: + +"You thought you saw her." + +"No. I did see her--plain as plain." + +"But, Fancy dear, seeing as she died afore you was born, how did 'ee +know 'twas she?" + +"I'd seen Mother ever so often before." + +"When and how?" + +After some hesitation, Fancy narrated, with many details, her psychic +experiences not only with her mother but with the four Evangelists. The +girl's mordant anxiety that the astounding tale should be believed bit +deep into the elder woman's heart. To Fancy's delight no incredulity was +expressed. And Mrs. Yellam's face remained calm and kind. Solomon +listened, also, with singular alertness and an eager intelligence which, +to Fancy, indicated full belief. Indeed, Solomon seemed to be saying to +himself: "Yes, yes, we know about that. We see things every day that +would astonish all of you, if we were allowed to talk about them." And, +in the middle of the story, the dog, that never showed any affection for +others in the presence of his mistress, leapt suddenly into Fancy's lap +and remained there. Long afterwards, Mrs. Yellam admitted that this mark +of confidence upon Sol's part had impressed her. Inwardly she explained +things quite to her satisfaction. She beheld Fancy as a four-year-old, a +tiny mite, all eyes, physically weak, the victim of a perfervid +imagination. Her own little girl, Lizzie, physically robust, would +invent somewhat similar stories about tramps and sweeps quite as +apocryphal as these tales of communings with Matthew and Mark. She +remembered smacking Lizzie, and telling her that she was a little liar. +No doubt, Fancy's father, rather a weakling, has encouraged the mite. +Since Alfred's engagement, Mrs. Yellam had met Mr. Broomfield, and +summed him up trenchantly as half a man. + +However, she kept such thoughts to herself, saying quietly: + +"You be a strange girl, Fancy, but you speaks what you believes to be +sober truth, and I love 'ee." + +Fancy had to be satisfied with this. + +The first year of the war came to an end. + +So far, Nether-Applewhite had been fortunate. None of the young men had +been killed; none had been seriously wounded. And it was generally held +that "Fritz" couldn't stick another winter. Alfred became a sergeant. +Mrs. Yellam appeared in her pew, next Sunday, wearing a new bonnet. But, +coming out of church, she met William Saint, and cut him dead. She now +thought of him, habitually, as a "Prooshian," out for world-dominion. +When her Alfred returned from the wars, he would smash William Saint. +The triumph of such a "sneak" must be short-lived. Like the Kayser, he +had sold himself, body and soul, to Satan. Satan would claim his own in +God A'mighty's good time. Renewed belief in a Personal Deity had crept +back into a heart less indurated. But He remained there, so to speak, on +sufferance. At any moment, He might be driven out, as before. +Omnipotence, so Mrs. Yellam argued during many vigils, could not be +reasonably regarded as such if Satan triumphed unduly. It is to be +feared that a daily motor-'bus service to Salisbury and back under the +auspices of William Saint would have been regarded as a Satanic triumph. +But such a service, as yet, had not been inaugurated. + +Alfred wrote home once a week, alternately to Fancy and his mother. The +life agreed with him. Obviously he accepted rough and smooth +philosophically, regarding himself as a part of a vast machine that +would "rampage" on with or without him. Although he was careful to keep +from his mother and Fancy the horrors which they heard from the wounded +soldiers, now and again some careless phrase would reveal, +illuminatingly, everything that the good fellow wished to suppress. + +"You enjoy your food as never was," he wrote, "when you know that any +square meal may be the last. A chum of mine got it yesterday. And he was +smoking a Woodbine I gave him. The man next him, as told me all about +it, finished the Woodbine. I couldn't help laughing." + +"Sometimes," said Mrs. Yellam, deliberately, "I thinks they be all mad." +She turned almost fiercely upon Fancy. "Why did he laugh, my boy as +hated to kill a fly?" + +Fancy hazarded a conjecture. + +"Men are not so very, very different from us women. I often laugh to +save myself crying." + +Mrs. Yellam admitted that there might be something in this. + +The Squire was busy with his bailiff, fattening bullocks, and, generally +speaking, trying to increase his flocks and herds. In this task, he +found an enthusiastic partner in Fishpingle, who possessed two obsessing +interests: love of the land and love of the Pomfrets. Nobody, except the +Squire and Lady Pomfret knew that this quiet, handsome old man, so +distinguished in appearance, and so choice in his use of words, might +have been lord of the manor, had he marched into life along the broad +highway which leads from the altar. Fate ordained otherwise. Fishpingle +had been constrained to stroll placidly along a by-path. He hoped that +he would so walk till the end. + +His point of view was characteristic. Of the more complex designs of +Providence, which such men as Hamlin were seeking to elucidate, +Fishpingle took no cognisance. He admitted gravely that they lay beyond +his vision. But he was quite certain that the land, the backbone of +England, must and would receive the attention which, before the war, had +been so unwisely withheld. He had always wanted to see his country +independent of necessary supplies--wheat, cattle, sheep and +hogs--imported from other countries. Upon that peg he had hung his +philosophy. And now, towards the close of his days, he believed that +what he had prayed for might come to pass. To that end he was prepared +to consecrate such energies as were left to him. Incidentally, his +enthusiasm served to wean Sir Geoffrey's mind from acrimonious criticism +of politicians. To provide in the present means that might fill the +inexorable demand of the future absorbed the thoughts of Squire and +Bailiff. + +Towards the middle of September, two Nether-Applewhite men were killed +in action. A week later, Lionel Pomfret was reported "severely wounded." +Sir Geoffrey crossed over to France. Lady Pomfret remained at the Court +in command of the hospital. She moved amongst the men with the same +gracious smile upon her lips; courage and faith--those great twin +brethren--sustained her; but the news was very bad, so serious that Mrs. +Yellam hardened once more her heart. Lionel had been shot through the +back, and lay, half-paralysed and in constant pain, in a receiving +hospital. Upon the Sunday after these details reached Nether-Applewhite, +Susan Yellam sat huddled up in her pew, and almost mumbled the +responses. Alone with Fancy, her sorrow broke into words: + +"I be thinking o' keeping away from church next Sunday." + +"Mother--!" + +The dear word escaped from Fancy's lips unconsciously. She had never +used it before, except in her thoughts. + +"What be you callin' me?" + +Fancy knelt beside her, stroking her rough hand. + +"I called you 'Mother.' Do you mind?" + +"No, no; but I bain't worthy to be your mother. If Master Lionel be +taken, Alferd'll go, too. I can't bring myself to look at my lady. I +can't look Pa'son square i' the face, neither. I reads the Bible, Fancy, +and the holy words do seem to mock me. I ain't been near those two pore +souls as ha' lost their boys. For why? I ain't got no comfort for 'em." + +Fancy said desperately: + +"If you keep away from church, others will pass remarks." + +"As if I keered about that!" + +"Wouldn't you care if I stayed away, just because you did?" + +Mrs. Yellam considered this. Her face relaxed. + +"Maybe. Anyways, I'll go next Sunday; But, child, it be sinful to sit in +God's House wi' such a soul as mine." + +Fancy said in a low voice: + +"Your _soul_ is right. You mind what Mr. Hamlin said about that? George +Mucklow won his Cross because our souls are always right." + +Mrs. Yellam shook her head. Then an idea came to her. A faint smile +flickered about her lips. + +"Souls may take a notion to leave us for a spell. My soul seems to have +flown out o' winder, as it did when Lizzie died." + +"But it came back." + +"Yes; that be true; it came back. Forgi' me, child, for shovin' my +wickedness on your lil' shoulders." + +"Dear Mother, you must talk to somebody." + +"When I be alone, evenings, I talks to Solly." + +"Well, I never!" + +"And he understands me, yas, he do. He be very human, and a gert +sinner." + +Fancy laughed; and the pretty trickle of sound may have melted a little +ice. Susan Yellam laughed with her. + +"Solly--a sinner?" + +"Ay. He be a black murderer. He killed a cat day afore yesterday, and +come back to me, all over scratches, and wi' a look as if--as if he'd +been churched." + +"What a naughty hypocrite! I wish he hadn't killed the poor cat." + +"'Twas a vagabond cat, no better than she should be. I scolded Solly, +and told 'un to kill William Saint's tabby, if so be as he couldn't help +breaking the Sixth Commandment. I be no better than Solly." + +Fancy looked round. + +"Where is the naughty dog?" + +"Ah-h-h! He be courtin' some four-legged hussy. I knows 'un. Last night +he come in after bed-time, so pleased as Punch. There be Original Sin in +animals, as ther be in us. And feeling as I does, 'tis easy to forgive +Solly his trespasses. Now you knows nearly everything." + +As the days succeeded each other, slightly better news came from France +about Lionel Pomfret. At the end of the month the Squire brought him +home. He lay upon his back; pain had become intermittent instead of +constant. A great specialist said that he might, in time, recover the +use of his lower limbs. Not a complaint leaked from his lips. Susan +Yellam accepted this partial recovery from what had been deemed a lethal +wound as a sign vouchsafed to her. Jealousy, however, was kindled by the +professional nurse, who kept from her patient an old friend lavish with +bull's-eyes in happier days and doubly anxious on that account to +minister faithfully to him in the unhappy present. + +London was visited by Zeppelins. Nether-Applewhite would have accepted +this fresh proof of Hun "frightfulness" with more Christian resignation, +if one of the villagers had not happened to be present during the +October raid which caused such destruction in the Strand. Uncle heard +the tale at first hand, and repeated it everywhere. Martin Mowland, the +bricklayer, had travelled to London to see his son, who was lying, +desperately wounded, in the Charing Cross Hospital. According to Martin +the Zeppelin had hovered just above his head, about tree-high. Then +bombs had fallen with terrifying explosions. Uncle supplied +supplementary detail to his own audience at the _Sir John Barleycorn_. + +"I says to Martin: 'What did 'ee do, old friend?' And he says to me: +'Uncle,' he says, 'I thought my hour was come, but I legs it away so +fast as I can to my lodgings....'" + +At this point Uncle, being an accomplished _raconteur_, would pause. +Then he would add impressively: + +"Neighbours, I don't blame 'un, although speaking for myself, I knows +that I should ha' stood still, onless, maybe, I'd seen some nice lil' +ale-house handy. Well, Martin, he legs it homealong so fast as if a +hornet's nest were tied to his starn-sheets, and presently he pulls up +like to catch his breath. And then he takes a squint upwards. Dang me, +'tis hard to believe some true stories. But Martin Mowland do take his +oath to this. He'd run the most of a mile, giving tongue, too, I'll +warrant. And when he looks up, as I be a Christian man, that there Zep +had follered he, and was slam bang over his head." + +"Lard preserve us! Whatever did 'un do?" + +Uncle solemnly put the finishing touch to the narrative. + +"What did Martin do? He stands stone-still, and puts up his old +umbrella." + +Many persons in the village believe to this day that Martin Mowland +saved his life by putting up his ancient umbrella. Unquestionably +Providence had stretched forth a Hand to preserve a worthy man who, as +bricklayer, could ill be spared. + +During November, it will be remembered, Conscription was admitted to be +inevitable, and shirkers were adjured to join up before they were +"fetched." Many did so. Near Salisbury was established a vast camp of +Canadians, jolly fellows who swung, route-marching, through +Nether-Applewhite, winking gaily at the girls, and setting an inspiring +example to the young men still clinging to the soil. + +Susan Yellam, spectacles upon nose, read all articles in her paper which +dealt drastically with recalcitrants. + +Would they take William Saint? + +This question obsessed her. William was single and of military age. But +his usefulness in the village could not be gainsaid, even by Captain +Davenant. Of late, William had begun to cough, particularly in his +sanded bar-parlour, or when he happened to be talking to Squire or +Parson. His yellow gills confirmed the general opinion that he enjoyed +poor health. Susan Yellam maintained that Willum was malingering, and +deserved such obloquy as descended upon the empty head of Ezekiel +Busketts, the brother of the sometime "odd man" at Pomfret Court. +Ezekiel, presenting himself for examination before a medical board, had +provided himself with an ancient truss, once the property of a deceased +father. Unfortunately, he adjusted the truss so improperly that +detection and ridicule fell upon him. Uncle, being distantly of kin to +Ezekiel, covered his retreat with no harsher comment than this: + +"'Twas a very sad mishap." + +Susan, to return to William Saint, asked for a "sign," which, if +unfavourable, might be taken to indicate how deeply she had incurred +Divine displeasure. Some people, with greater advantages than Mrs. +Yellam, believe devoutly in signs. Lionel Pomfret's slow recovery had +been thankfully accepted by Susan as a sign that Satan was not having it +all his own way in Nether-Applewhite. If William Saint was removed from +the scene of his time-serving activities, Mrs. Yellam felt that a signal +victory over the powers of Evil would have been achieved. Such a +victory, in a true religious sense, would re-tighten the spiritual +fibres that, before the war, had bound her so closely to Omnipotence. +Nay, more; she dared to presume that if Willum went, her Alfred would +return, and pick up the scattered parcels of his good business as of +yore. + +She confided all this to Solomon, but not to Fancy. + +Uncle furthered her wishes without any "mumbudgetting" between brother +and sister. He disliked Saint, because his ale was watered. But he liked +to meet his cronies at the _Sir John Barleycorn_. Being a brave, candid +fellow, with a half-interest in the V. C., he told Saint to his face +what he thought of the ale. + +"I likes my ale, and I bain't ashamed on't. I see eye to eye wi' this +yere Horatio Bottomley about they pumpuritans, which I make bold to say +includes milkmen" (Saint sold milk) "so well as publicans. Me and +Bottomley do think just alike about knaves, hypocrites, and they as +grinds the face o' the pore. Much o' what I read in Johnny Bull might +ha' been written by me. I comes back to my tankard o' ale." + +"You allers do, Uncle." + +"What I likes about my first tankard be this. If 'tis good ale, such as +used to be set afore a man, I drinks it wi' a grateful heart, a-smackin' +my lips over the tankard to foller. If 'tis wishwash, I nourishes most +onChristian feelin's, and loses my thirst." + +William Saint would reply imperturbably: + +"For a patriotic man, you surprise me, Uncle. The ale is not what it was +because good barley is needed for better purposes." + +"I knows nothing about that." + +"A man with your great knowledge of everything ought to know." + +Uncle marked the irony, and resented it. In argument, as he well knew, +Saint was too much for him. He began to study the publican and his +hollow cough. He noted his manoeuvres: the tiny bit of land ploughed up, +the buying of horses for remount agents, the sale of forage to the same +interested parties, who might be trusted to speak up, when Conscription +came, for an indispensable and indefatigable subject of the King. Uncle +passed some not disagreeable moments speculating concerning the fouling +of a well-lined nest. + +As the season of Peace and Goodwill approached, Lionel Pomfret was just +able to hobble the length of the terrace with the assistance of a pair +of crutches. His campaigning days were over. It was doubtful whether he +would be seen again in the hunting-field. But high spirits remained +inalienably his. He plunged with renewed ardour into schemes for the +more intensive culture of a thin soil, and displayed remarkable +aptitudes fortified by hard grinding at text-books. Hamlin spent many +hours with him. In Lionel he seemed to see a type, the son of an ancient +house, born with the silver spoon in his mouth, cradled in ease and +luxury, popped on a pony to ride through life as soon as he was +short-coated, sent to a great public-school, not to acquire learning, +but manners and skill at games, pitchforked later into a famous +regiment, with a handsome allowance, not to study the stern arts of war, +but to hold his own at polo and pig-sticking. + +Hamlin had deplored such upbringing. But the results confounded him, +forcing him once again to thrust carefully-considered judgments into the +melting-pot. The fact bristled in front of him that Lionel, and +thousands like him, had "made good" against all odds, vindicating an +education which consistently disdained efficiency except at games and +sport. What a gulf yawned between Prussian and English officers! The +Prussians had scrapped everything to attain efficiency. They had got it. +And what an atrocious use had been made of it! But their efficiency had +constrained young men like Lionel to an efficiency greater because the +inspiration of a fine cause lay behind it. That must be the keystone of +any arch--inspiration. Whether for good or evil, it fired men to supreme +endeavour. + +Out of Hamlin's four sons, three were now in the Army. Teddy, however, +was the only one in France. The eldest son, in Orders, was still at +Cambridge; the second, after passing through the O. T. C., had sailed +for Salonika; the third had enlisted as a Bombardier. + +Christmas, therefore, seemed likely to be happy, if not merry. + +Upon Christmas Eve, Mrs. Yellam heard, officially, that Alfred was +wounded. + +Upon Christmas Day, at Morning Service, her pew was empty. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +FANCY CONSULTS THE CARDS + + +On the following Sunday, Mrs. Yellam's pew was empty again, +conspicuously so, in the eyes of Hamlin. After luncheon he said to +Fancy: + +"Is Mrs. Yellam ill?" + +"No, sir." + +Hamlin guessed what had happened. + +"No news is good news, Fancy." + +"That's what the men say, sir. It ain't a mort of comfort to us women." + +She looked very white, with dark, heavy lines beneath her eyes. Hamlin +said a few encouraging words to which she listened attentively, nodding +her head. Hamlin felt reassured. Fancy was unhappy, but she didn't +despair. Before she left the study, she said slowly: + +"I believe as Alfred will come back." + +To the solicitude and sympathy of neighbours Mrs. Yellam exhibited a +frigid indifference. + +"I be just as well as never was," she remarked, when they enquired after +her own health. "Time enough for such as me to fall sick if my Alferd +don't come back." + +No further news had reached her. To Jane Mucklow, now the village +optimist, with George at home on leave for Christmas, Mrs. Yellam spoke +with some bitterness. Jane meant well; her sympathy was sincere, but how +could she, so high in Divine favour, understand? Nothing could shake +Susan's conviction that Alfred lay somewhere in France, mortally +wounded, whilst William Saint, the hypocrite and rascal, knelt among the +Communicants. To kneel with him, feeling as she did, would be, in her +opinion, an act of sacrilege. She reflected miserably that, since +confirmation, she had never missed a Christmas Celebration of the +Eucharist. + +On the Monday, Hamlin came to visit her as parish priest. He had +carefully considered what he should say. The faith that burned within +this strong man had been a plant of slow growth, watered by suffering, +pruned by constant self-analysis, and yet, in its essence, the faith of +a child, a faith independent of dogma, soaring high above +technicalities, resting securely upon a belief in ultimate good. He +could not disguise from himself that the Churches--all of them--had +crippled expectation. There had been no renascence, no uplifting +movement, no real enthusiasm. Political considerations and expediencies +kept the Vatican silent when a voice, thundering as from Sinai, might +have awakened millions to a realisation of the issues at stake. The +Church of England and the Nonconformists remained almost as stagnant, +content, for the most part, with the well-oiled grooves, waiting for and +watching Temporal Power, unable or unwilling to take the lead, to speak +definitely, to act decisively. With rare exceptions, the gospel of Love +had not been authoritatively used to vanquish the gospel of Hate. +Hamlin, need it be said? was no sentimentalist. He believed with Woodrow +Wilson that Prussian militarism must be wiped out. He did not believe +with Wilson that the German nation, as a whole, could be exonerated from +blame. Available evidence justified a different conclusion. Lust for +world-dominion, regardless of consequence, animated and fortified the +Central Powers because popular opinion lay behind them, unanimous save +for a negligible minority. Non-resistance to a catastrophic policy of +aggression, so potent, so meticulously organised threatened not only +Christianity but civilisation. To turn the cheek to these smiting Huns +was an unthinkable proposition to Hamlin. Nor could he find in the New +Testament any injunction of the Master which could be twisted into a +golden rule to be applied to States and nationalities. Christ dealt with +individuals, preaching and practising the power of love as between man +and man, not as between man and mankind. No text that Hamlin could find +would justify forbearance towards a nation determined to inflict +"Shrecklichkeit" upon the human race. On this point his mind was +perfectly clear. + +It was not yet, however, so clear upon issues still to be determined, +such as "After the War" problems. He could not measure the stride about +to be taken, provided militarism was crushed. He wondered constantly, +with ever-increasing apprehension, whether love would triumph in the +end, as he prayed that it might, creating a new world concerned with the +happiness of the many, a world purged of the old insensate vanities and +acrimonies. + +Mrs. Yellam received him, as usual, a shade more formally, perhaps, with +a slight tightening of her lips. Hamlin began as the personal friend of +long standing, assuring the mother that her son, in all probability, was +not severely wounded, that good news might be expected shortly, that +very soon Alfred might be with her, out of the danger zone for a season, +and able to give attention to his business. But he perceived that he was +wasting words and time. She listened respectfully, saying nothing. He +guessed what ebullitions of feeling were suppressed. He had been +tormented by her anxieties, by her doubts. The loss of his wife had been +irreparable. And when his daughter left him alone in the Vicarage, with +nothing to engross him but his work, an odd distaste of life had +assailed him, a slackness which he fought tooth and nail. Till then he +had hardly known fatigue, as it is known to all women, that dull apathy +more mental than physical which questions means and ends, exaggerating +the difficulties of the former and minimising the latter, an apathy +continually whispering the sad words: _cui bono_? He knew how hard Mrs. +Yellam had worked for her husband, her children, and in particular for +Alfred. During the last ten years all ambition, all energies had been +concentrated upon him alone. She had made unconsciously, a God of him. + +Hamlin rose up to deliver his message. Mrs. Yellam rose with him. + +"I missed you in church yesterday, and on Christmas Day." + +"One old 'ooman can't be missed, sir." + +His eyes not his voice softened. + +"You are mistaken, Mrs. Yellam. A woman of your character in this parish +is missed--more than you think, perhaps." + +"If Alferd comes back, you'll see me in my pew again." + +"You have made that rash bargain with your God?" + +She said defiantly: + +"How do I know as He is my God? The Kayser claims Him." + +Hamlin gazed keenly at her. + +"If--if I left the matter there, Mrs. Yellam, in the firm hope and +belief that God's way, inscrutable as they may appear to us when all our +energies are at a low ebb, will in His time be made manifest, may I not +ask you, as your parish priest, to consider the example to others, the +many, possibly, who are wavering in faith as you are?" + +"Fancy Broomfield bid me think of that." + +"Did she? Poor girl, she is distracted with anxiety, like you. But her +faith sustains her. Have you thought of what Fancy told you?" + +She answered him slowly, weighing her words: + +"My faith be gone, sir. It may come back wi' Alferd. And feeling so +bitter as I do about William Saint, who be stealing my boy's business, +who be letting others fight for him, and making a fortin for hisself, +can I kneel at God's Table?" + +"No." + +"What be I to do? Go to church, a whited sepulchre, and pretend that I +be a Christian 'ooman? Do 'ee ask me to do that for sake of others?" + +Hamlin remained silent. She continued, more calmly: + +"I can't bring myself to go church along, although I'd be pleased to +oblige you, sir." + +"It is no question of obliging me, Mrs. Yellam. Aren't you adding to +your heavy burden instead of sharing it with One Who laid it upon you +and Who alone can lighten it?" + +Grievously she shook her head. Hamlin took his leave. As he walked away, +he muttered to himself: "Civil War--devastating Civil War raging in that +poor old heart." + +He returned to the Vicarage with his mind dwelling upon the eternal +conflict, a conflict accentuated by the world-war, because its issues +seemed to enrich or impoverish everybody. By it, without a doubt, Susan +Yellam had been impoverished. He himself was conscious of enrichment. +But--he had not lost a son. He had five children. + +After tea Fancy cycled down, as usual, to the Yellam cottage. Solomon +received her boisterously. She made sure that good news awaited her. A +glance at Mrs. Yellam's set face put to flight her hopes. No news had +come. Mrs. Yellam greeted the girl perfunctorily, and then said sharply: + +"Have you brought 'em?" + +"Yes," said Fancy. + +She took from a small hand-bag a much-used pack of cards. Mrs. Yellam +had cleared a space upon the kitchen-table. + +"Set 'em out," she commanded. + +Fancy sat down, and began to shuffle the pack. Hamlin would have smiled +sorrowfully, had he seen Mrs. Yellam's intent face as the girl's slim +fingers dealt out the cards. So it had come to this. Rejecting the faith +of sixty years, this poor old woman asked for hope and happiness from a +fortuitous arrangement of bits of painted pasteboard! Comedy upon the +underlying tragedy. Hamlin knew, of course, that astrologers, mediums, +crystal-gazers and the like were doing a roaring trade. + +Mrs. Yellam, let it be noted, asked Fancy to bring the cards. Protest +had quivered upon Fancy's lips and stayed there. + +"Well?" + +"It is well, Mother. Alfred will come back. This makes the third time; +and, do you know, when I rode up Sol barked and wagged his tail." + +"Did he? The dog be full o' fun now." + +Fancy went down on her knees; Sol barked at her, and then began to race +round the room, playing what Fancy called "mad dog." He ended by +leaping, panting, into Mrs. Yellam's lap. + +"I believe he knows something, Fancy." + +"I'm sure he does. Would he carry on like that if--if Alfred was real +bad?" + +Thus each woman, in her artless way, consoled the other. + +Upon the Tuesday, details reached Mrs. Yellam. Alfred had been shot in +the arm; the bone was badly broken; his destination was Netley. + +Strings were pulled by Sir Geoffrey. Before the week was out Alfred +arrived at Pomfret Court. He looked much the same, not quite so +rubicund; he carried his left arm in a sling. Upon the following Sunday, +Mrs. Yellam appeared in her pew, and the fervour of her responses +excited some comment. + +She said to Fancy: + +"The cards told true. Now, the sooner you and Alferd becomes man and +wife the better." + +The doctor, who visited Pomfret Court daily, raised no objections. +Alfred's arm would keep him in Nether-Applewhite for many weeks, because +small splinters, from time to time, would have to be extracted, a +tedious process. Mrs. Yellam, when she heard this, said with twinkling +eyes: + +"Alfred, dear, why didn't you get wounded in both arms?" + +To which Alfred replied slily: + +"I kept my right arm, Mother, to slip round Fancy's waist." + +He told many stories to which Fancy and Mrs. Yellam listened entranced, +and he spoke of the enemy with respect and without rancour. Upon one +occasion, as his battalion moved into the trenches, a German had shouted +out in excellent English: + +"Be you the Wiltsheers?" + +A reply in the affirmative provoked a request for "pozzy" (jam). But a +tall sergeant, who stood up to hurl a can of preserve into the German +trench, was shot dead. This aroused tremendous wrath, as quickly allayed +when the same voice shouted again, asking if the sergeant who threw the +jam had been hurt. He was soon satisfied on that point, and, +immediately, a hubbub arose in the enemy trench, and a shot was heard. +Soon afterwards the Wiltshires learnt from the lips of the first speaker +that the man who treacherously slew the sergeant had been "done in." + +"They ain't all bad," said Alfred. + +To Mrs. Yellam's amazement, her son merely laughed when she told him of +Willum Saint's activities. + +"'Tis life, Mother. Down river, if a trout's caught behind an old stump, +another takes his pitch before night." + +Mrs. Yellam, however, noted with satisfaction that although Alfred was +incapacitated from driving his motor-'bus, the business, since his +arrival in Nether-Applewhite, had leaped ahead again with a renewed +impetus. William Saint looked sour. + +Fancy bought her modest trousseau, and, incidentally, put on several +pounds in weight. The weather happened to be bitter, but she never felt +cold when walking out with Alfred. He spoke with enthusiasm of his +officers: + +"They're fine gentlemen, Fancy. And those in the ranks are finest of +all." Then he told her a story about two men in a London regiment, both +privates and chums. One was an East-ender; the father of the other owned +a house in Park Lane. The Cockney asked his chum if he had ever visited +Whitechapel. The other remembered that he had bought a bull-terrier from +a fancier in the Mile End Road. He remembered, also, that he had been +handsomely "done" over the deal. After a pause, the Cockney said with a +grin: "I sold you that dawg, Algy. What a mug you was then!" + +But Fancy remarked one amazing change in her lover. He never spoke of +the future. His enjoyment of the present was unmistakable. This +abstention from a topic which formerly had engrossed him became more and +more significant. The girl realised what Alfred had been through, +although, unlike most of the wounded men at the Court, he recited no +"horrors." Gradually, too, she perceived a change in his face: he had +"fined down"; his eyes were more alert, with a curiously steadfast +expression. She had never talked with him about religion. That was taken +for granted, and might be summed up as a cut-and-dried sense of certain +obligations such as church-going, honourable dealings with neighbours, +loyalty to the Sovereign, and sobriety of conduct. He knew nothing about +the empty pew. + +"Mother took my going awful hard. Did she talk to you about it?" + +Fancy told him what had taken place. Alfred held his tongue till she had +finished. + +"Thought she'd lost her soul, did she? Poor dear!" + +"William Saint doing so well and cutting into your business worried her +dreadful. I think it worries her still that you takes it so easy." + +Alfred meditated upon this. When he answered her, he conveyed to her +mind an extraordinary sense of detachment, as if he, the strong man, so +enterprising as a carrier, so alert for "orders," had become suddenly an +onlooker at the game of life. Perhaps surroundings lent themselves to +this impression. They had climbed slowly to the high downs, and were +standing near a noted landmark, a small tower known as the Pepper Box. A +sharp frost had silvered the downs. The air was very still. Upon each +side of them stretched the uplands, melting into distant woods. No +animals were to be seen, not a sheep, not a bird. They seemed to stand +alone in a beautiful, deserted world. + +"I suppose," he said, "that 'tis like this. Before the war, I might have +felt different towards William Saint. And after the war, Fancy, if I'm +here, I shall try hard to get back my own again. But to-day I'm thinking +of peace. Fed-up with war I am. I want to live quiet with you and +Mother. I talked a lot of foolishness once about making big money. You +didn't cotton much to the notion. Maybe you feared it would take me away +from you?" + +"I did." + +"Well, maybe it would. Money drives some folks apart, and the want of it +brings 'em together. And, out there, plotting and planning seems silly, +because one may be--'next.'" + +She clutched his arm. He smiled at her, continuing slowly: + +"'Tain't so terrible a thought. Most of us fears pain more'n death. I +see more frightened folks in Nether-Applewhite than in the dug outs. +Queer thoughts have come to me, my maid, since we two parted." + +"Tell them to me, Alfie." + +"'Tisn't easy unless a man has the gift of words. Times, especially at +night, when an attack is expected I've lain still as a dormouse, +thinking that 'twas unreal, a dream like, and that soon I should wake up +and find myself somewhere else." + +"I often feel just that way." + +"Ah-h-h! Another queer notion is this: the best seem to go first, Fancy; +some of the young officers. Why? I figure it out that death is a big +prize to such. It does explain things a bit, don't it? They get their +reward---quick! And then I set to figuring who is best. God Almighty +knows. One feller in my platoon, before I got my stripes, was a +right-down scallywag, a gaol-bird." + +"My!" + +"'Twas his notion about death being a prize for the lucky ones. And he +told me that he loved to think how bad he'd been, because he reckoned +himself safe, sure to be one of the last to be called. Next week, he was +blown to a pulp, except his face, and on that was the queerest smile I +ever saw. I helped to carry in what was left." + +She clung closer to him. He said in his ordinary genial tones: + +"I feel myself again in Blighty, dear. But I want no unpleasantness with +William Saint or any one else. I think, night and day, of you, soon to +be my dear wife." + +Love-making rolled on smoothly, as before the war. + +But what Alfred had said remained in Fancy's mind. It explained much +that had puzzled her ever since she was able to think: her father's +ill-health and ill-fortune, her mother's premature death, and the big +casualty-lists. If life was a dream--! If reality lay beyond--! Then all +the mysteries, the inequalities, the apparent injustices, could be +explained. Such an explanation is old as human thought. It can be found +in the Vedas, in the Bible, in the writings of the Gnostics, in some of +the pagan and modern philosophies. Fancy, however, was neither concerned +nor interested in speculations veiled in words she could not understand. +Alfred's queer notions were his and hers, rushlights shining in the +darkness. But terror touched her heart, when she applied the obvious +conclusion to herself. If the best were taken, why then Alfred would be +numbered amongst them. + +As her wedding-day approached, this apprehension grew fainter and then +disappeared for a time. She resolved to live in the present, not in the +shadows of past or future. Such resolution has been a fairy godmother's +gift to young women in Fancy's class of life. They turn their eyes +gratefully to the sun whenever it shines upon them. + +She had never been so happy before. + +It was arranged that part of the honeymoon should be spent in London. +After three days' sight-seeing, the pair would return to Mrs. Yellam's +cottage. Alfred bestowed upon Fancy a black fur stole and muff, a +wrist-watch, and a pair of silver-backed hair-brushes. + +She placed these oblations upon a chair near her bed, so that her eyes +could gloat upon them the last thing at night and the first thing in the +morning. + +Sergeant George Mucklow, V. C., promised to act as best man. + +Mrs. Yellam was nearly as happy as Fancy. One fly settled in her +ointment. Conscription had become the law of the land. But the local +tribunal exempted William Saint. Uncle predicted that he would be called +up later. Jane, of course, contradicted this on general principles. With +Mrs. Yellam she believed that Satan would take good care of his own. + +The men at Pomfret Court gave a sing-song in Alfred's honour upon the +afternoon before he left them. Fancy sat beside the bridegroom-elect +amongst the quality. She liked one new song so much that she clapped her +hands and called out "Encore" before anybody else. The chorus of that +song is now known to every English-speaking soldier in the world. + + There's a long, long trail a-winding + Into the land of my dreams; + Where the nightingales are singing, + And a white moon beams. + There's a long, long night of waiting + Until my dreams all come true; + Till the day when I'll be going down + That long, long trail with you. + +Her dreams had come true; the night of waiting was past. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +HYMENEAL + + +They were married from Mr. Broomfield's house in Salisbury, and, before +returning to Nether-Applewhite, Mrs. Yellam reconsidered her opinion of +Fancy's father. He was more than half a man. Call him three-quarters at +least. The other quarter was woman. Fancy always affirmed that her sire +had played mother to her. Mrs. Yellam, after some intimate conversation +with Mr. Broomfield, believed this to be true. It seemed odd to think of +a farrier--the brawny blacksmith of the village chestnut-tree--helping +to undress dolls and smacking them when they misbehaved themselves. But +Mr. Broomfield was not brawny. He had Fancy's pale face and large, +luminous eyes. He talked about books, not storybooks, which Susan Yellam +disdained as "rubbishy truck," but solid, respectable treatises dealing +with subjects far beyond Susan's ken, such as the better housing of the +poor, communal kitchens, and a more equable wage for the working-man. +About such talk hung a flavour of Radicalism, a whiff of Socialism. Mrs. +Yellam gasped for breath when Mr. Broomfield "blasphemiously" labelled +Christ as Socialist. As a set-off, the man actually believed in fairies! +Mrs. Yellam had never met his like. But she admitted somewhat grudgingly +his charm as a companion. He attended Divine Worship, regularly, +observed the Sabbath, and spoke with enthusiasm of the cathedral. He +could laugh at his own mild jokes. Through him, Mrs. Yellam came to a +subtler understanding of her daughter-in-law. She accepted Fancy, so she +informed Mr. Broomfield, as a daughter, saying trenchantly: "No +'in-laws' for me." But she ceased to regard her as a child. Fancy's +artless ways, she decided, were on the surface. Beneath might be found, +by a diligent delver, a remarkable little woman, sensible, very +affectionate, but queer, like her father. Mr. Broomfield, apparently, +could enjoy a joke against himself. Susan, with a very limited sense of +humour, was incapable of such a feat. Speaking of motors, Mr. Broomfield +said whimsically: + +"What I've lost over 'em, Mrs. Yellam, seems to have been picked up by +Alfred. So--no complaints! Good money remains in the family." + +To Susan this cheerful acceptance of bludgeonings indicated Christian +resignation rather than humour. She told the farrier forthwith all about +William Saint--the "Proosian." Mr. Broomfield listened sympathetically. +He perceived that Mrs. Yellam was disappointed because Alfred had not +"man-handled" a rascal and hypocrite, but he said with an odd chuckle: + +"That makes things harder for this Saint, don't it?" + +"I begs your pardon, Mr. Broomfield--whatever does you mean?" + +She thought for the moment that he was as light in head as in body. +Fancy's father went on chuckling: + +"Well, from what you tell me of Alfred, and seeing what a big, strong +man he is, I expect that William Saint is worrying. Like as not he +looked for a row and wanted to get it over. Now, I reckon, being the +coward you say he is, that he lies awake wondering when he'll catch it. +Once, when I was a boy, I had to wait for a good whipping from Saturday +till Monday. I've forgotten the whipping, Mrs. Yellam, but I remember +that miserable Sunday." + +Mrs. Yellam was much impressed with this point of view, admitting +cautiously that it opened new vistas. Disturbed nights must be William +Saint's portion and punishment. Mr. Broomfield hammered home his nail: + +"'Tis the same way with sinners--and this Saint seems a crafty +sinner--outwardly they look fat and prosperous, but inwardly I reckon +they give uneasy thought to a Day o' Judgment when they won't be invited +to stand amongst the sheep. I've neighbours in this town, Mrs. Yellam, +who have done the dirty on me. I never think of them. It dirties my mind +to do so. I like to think of my friends instead." + +"You be a true Christian man." + +Later, she told Uncle, who set, perhaps, an undue value on +chest-measurements, that Mr. Broomfield was very much of a gentleman, +and repeated what had been said about Saint. Uncle saw the funny side of +it, and smacked his thigh. + +"Saint Willum--! I shall call 'un that in his own bar. 'Tis a rare jest. +Saint Willum living amongst us sheep and knowing full well that he be a +goat. He do act the goat, too, when the sheep be grazin' away from he. I +could tell 'ee stories, Susan...." + +"Don't, Habakkuk! Mr. Broomfield be right. I means to think o' my +friends, and I refuses to dirty my mind wi' listenin' to stories o' +goats." + +Her responses in church became louder and more fervent. Having gained +the shore, after many buffetings, she put from her disagreeable memories +of billows past. + +Fancy and Alfred returned from London town full of high spirits and +overbrimming with talk. Fancy looked prettier than ever hanging upon the +right arm of her sergeant. His left arm still hung in a sling. The +doctor, who examined it periodically, said solemnly: + +"I'm very sorry, Sergeant, but I can't pass you as fit for duty." + +Alfred grinned: + +"You do pull my pore arm about, sir, but don't pull my leg, please." + +The doctor laughed. + +"You may count on six weeks at home, perhaps more." + +The momentary pain of having small splinters of bone extracted was +negligible compared with six weeks of married bliss. + +Fancy's happiness defies analysis. Her naive ecstasies astounded Mrs. +Yellam, to whom marriage had been rather a prosaic affair. She wondered +occasionally if this had been her fault. Why had dull contentment set in +so soon? As a young wife, she may have overbusied herself with domestic +duties. Fancy practised wiles and guiles with Alfred. She planned quaint +little surprises, played dexterously with an imagination which became as +lively as her own. One evening, when Fancy was upstairs, Alfred took +from his pocket some pieces of white paper, all that was left of three +packets of food. Abroad on business, Alfred had lunched under a hedge +by himself, far from home. Upon the paper were pencilings in Fancy's +handwriting. Mrs. Yellam wiped her spectacles and put them on. She +read three sentences:--"Meat sandwiches. Don't gobble 'em! Say +grace and think of Fancy." Upon the next piece of paper this was +scribbled:--"Bread and butter and cheese--and _kisses_." And then the +third:--"Rich cake stolen from Mother by a loving thief. P. S. Another +fat kiss has just started to grow. F. Y." + +Mrs. Yellam returned the papers. Alfred folded them carefully, and +placed them in the inner pocket of his tunic. + +"They go back with me to France," he said quietly. + +Mrs. Yellam sighed. + +"You be a lucky man, Alferd." + +He nodded and went upstairs. Mrs. Yellam heard a tinkle of laughter. She +sat on, thinking; a frown wrinkled her broad forehead. She had never +played the game of love as Fancy played it. It occurred to her that she +had missed something all her life without knowing what it was. It might +be wise to consult Solomon, who was gazing at her interrogatively, with +his head on one side. She did so. + +"Be they a pair o' fools, Solly?" + +Solomon never budged. This might be taken to mean an answer in the +negative. + +"There be wisdom in folly, my dog, and folly in wisdom. You knows that?" + +Solomon wagged his tail. Mrs. Yellam continued: + +"I be learning things, Solly, old as I be. I wish I'd ha' learned 'em +earlier. I might ha' been a happier 'ooman. I might ha' made my man +happier. Why do such knowledge come to us too late?" + +Solomon gazed at his mistress intently. From his expression Mrs. Yellam +divined that all her questions could be answered exhaustively by any dog +able to wag his tongue instead of his tail. + +The war went on. + +Conscription began to dislocate small trades and industries, but +Nether-Applewhite hardly felt the pinch of this. A few of the young +women disappeared, seeking higher wages in munition-works. One or two +returned to the village wearing coney-seal coats, and peacocking into +church with bold eyes challenging attention from wounded heroes. Mrs. +Yellam was much exasperated. All strikes she regarded as sinful. Satan, +and his dark legions, had been the first to rebel against Authority. +Hence--Hell! She envisaged as Hell industrial England, with its +blast-furnaces vomiting flames and smoke day and night, with its black +hordes of angry strikers disgracefully overpaid in comparison with the +pittance doled out to Sergeant Yellam. Coney-seal coats "dirtied" her +mind. Many of them, no doubt, were the obvious wages of sin. She rebuked +Alfred severely, when he proposed to buy one for Fancy. Alfred defended +himself and the wearers of the coats. + +"It's one of the signs of the times, Mother. I thought you were an +'Onward' one." + +"Lard help us! Not 'Onward and downward.'" + +"It's all the result of the war," affirmed Alfred. "Money's scarcer +amongst the quality, but poor folks are richer. Why shouldn't our girls +have a good time? They're working hard for the country." + +Mrs. Yellam retorted viciously: + +"Being a man, wi' an eye for a pretty face, you sticks up for the girls. +But what about they miners, a-smoking silling cigars and a-drinking +champagne, when our boys are dying at one-and-tuppence a day? And some +o' they strikers, so they tells me, 'd as lief live under Kayser Bill as +under King Garge." + +"Is that their fault, Mother?" + +"What do you say? Gracious! Be you telling me that such wickedness be +_my_ fault?" + +Alfred smiled pleasantly. He was not entitled to full credit for his +answer; he had been talking upon the subject with Lionel Pomfret. + +"It's the fault of the quality, Mother." + +"What a tale!" + +Alfred proceeded to explain. Although his brains worked slowly, and +despite the lack of an adequate vocabulary, he could be trusted to +repeat faithfully anything that had made a deep impression. He pointed +out to Mrs. Yellam, in language she could understand, that the weak in +mind and body were ever at the mercy of the strong. The quality, before +the war, had been strong. They had exercised their strength, speaking +generally, at the expense of the weak, fortifying their own impregnable +position. The masses, with rare exceptions, had submitted to imposed +conditions. They struggled on in the gloom, groping here and there for +illumination. Ill-educated, ill-fed, ill-clothed, they became gradually +conscious that things might be better and could hardly be worse. It made +precious little difference to them, poor Bezonians, under which king +they lived or died. The real advantages of living under King George were +patent to others, not to these unhappy prisoners in bondage to their +taskmasters. Alfred informed his mother, in conclusion, that within the +memory of living man children of tenderest years had been driven to work +in deep coal-mines, half-starved and half-naked, and kept at work, under +the lash, in rabbit-holes of passages, because such work by warping +their poor backs enabled them to get coal out of places where the +straight-backed could not go. Conditions had changed for the better +since those days, but not much, not nearly enough. + +Mrs. Yellam was visibly impressed. + +Alfred went on in his own quiet way: + +"I've talked with such fellers in the trenches, Mother. You be sure of +this: they ain't going back to slavery." + +"Slavery, Alfred, in England!" + +"There are slaves in Ocknell, to-day, Mother. Some pore devils had to be +'fetched.' They didn't know enough to get out of their hog-wallows. 'Tis +rank slavery for a man to bring up wife and six little 'uns on fifteen +bob a week." + +"Anyways," replied Mrs. Yellam, tartly, "I don't hold wi' fur coats on +the backs o' hussies whose mothers can't afford decent underlinen. And +that minds me o' the advertisements in my paper. I fair blush to look at +'un. Pictures o' garments that I hangs up to dry out o' sight in my back +yard." + +Alfred laughed loudly. + +"It always seemed to me as if you women hid the things you were ashamed +of. The pretty frillies flutter in the wind, where all can see 'em, and +envy 'em. Nether-Applewhite knew when Rose Mucklow took to nighties +trimmed with real Val." + +Mrs. Yellam sighed, admitting frankly that she couldn't keep in step +with the times. Alfred, conscious, possibly, that some of his mother's +shafts were aimed at him, said tentatively: + +"Are you miffed because I gave Fancy a fur muff and stole?" + +"I don't know as I bain't. A wise man, my son, puts money in bank, not +on back." + +"I see you putting your savings into stockings. Blame the war, Mother, +not me. I aimed to make Fancy happy, and to see her smile, whilst I'm +here to see it. We're both hay-making in these March winds." + +Mrs. Yellam surrendered. + +What Alfred said remained in her ample mind, to be considered carefully +at leisure. She abhorred extravagance. But, in March, she might have +bought a warm muff for herself, had she been told by her doctor that she +would die before June. Insensibly she adopted part of Alfred's new +philosophy. She set before bride and groom the best plain food +procurable; she piled logs on the open hearth; she put the two +coffin-stools into a cupboard. + +And she read her Bible diligently, believing devoutly that she was +basking in heavenly sunshine. + +The six weeks raced by, but Alfred's arm mended less rapidly. He was +given three weeks' more leave. His business had picked up wonderfully +ever since he was able to bestow upon it personal attention. Perhaps +William Saint withdrew tentacles, waiting for better opportunities later +on. Alfred didn't drive his 'bus, but he whipped up old customers, +chaffing them pleasantly, avoiding reproaches. All the women liked his +manners, which were easy without being too free. Fancy felt jealous at +times, and couldn't hide it: a tribute to love which Alfred accepted in +the right spirit. + +"I couldn't be unfaithful to you, if I tried," he whispered to her. "I +love you so dearly that my heart warms to all females. I could kiss the +ugliest just because you're my sweet wife." + +"Oh, Alfie, I couldn't bear that." + +He never left home without finding her on his return hovering about the +wicket-gate, waving her hand as he appeared round the bend of the road, +and hurrying to meet him with outstretched arms. Those spoke eloquently +of the suffering which approaching separation must impose. Each +refrained from mention of France. + +Alfred hoped that she would have something to console her, something +intimately his and hers, when he went back to the front. From the first, +husband and wife had discussed the possibility of children. + +"Are you afraid?" he asked, thinking of her mother. + +"Yes." + +"Ah-h-h. I'm not surprised to hear that." + +"I want to whisper something, Alfie." + +He inclined his head. She kissed his ear, murmuring: + +"I _am_ afraid--afraid it mayn't come. That's the only fear I have." + +He was profoundly moved, sensible that his feelings were the more tender +because, before the war, he would have accepted paternity and all it +implied as an ordinary happening. Till he had suffered himself--his +wound had caused him intense pain--he had never thought of what women +endure every time a child is born into the world. + +"What a brave dear you are!" + +She whispered again: + +"Would you like a He or a She?" + +Alfred insisted that first choice lay with her. + +"I want a boy." + +"I believe I should love a lil' maid best." + +"Better than you love me, maybe?" + +Having answered this in his own way, Alfred said abruptly: + +"If 'tis a maid, you must call her Lizzie. 'Twill please Mother. I can +see the child traipsin' after her." + +Fancy said doubtfully: + +"Lizzie ain't a pretty name, Alfie. I thought of Alfreda--Freda for +short." + +"Been thinking of that already, have you? Let it be Lizzie, Fancy. +Promise me, dear!" + +She promised, and then laughed gaily: + +"Ain't we counting our chicks before they're hatched?" + +"We might be worse employed." + +"And if one comes, Alfie, I know 'twill be a big baby boy." + +"You have it your own way. I allow it concerns you more'n me." + +April was nearly over before Alfred went back. He might have been +transferred to his depot, following the example of the hero. Sir +Geoffrey was quite willing to pull more strings, and hinted as much to +Sergeant Yellam. Alfred refused the kind offer, pledging the Squire to +secrecy. Something he couldn't define, some dominating, irresistible +impulse drew him to his own men. He admitted to the Squire that he was +sorely tempted. + +"I know my job, Sir Geoffrey. And I know how bad we are wanted." + +Upon the eve of departure Fancy told him that she hoped, she believed, +she was almost sure that the wish of both their hearts would be granted. +If he got Yuletide leave, he might be in time for a christening. + +Mother and wife travelled to Southampton to speed the Sergeant on his +way. No tears were shed till his broad back was turned on them at the +dock-gates. They were spared that heart-twisting spectacle, the slow +warping from the wharf of a great transport, the strains of "The Girl he +left behind Him," the long line of faces packed close above the +bulwarks, the interminable wait till the ship became a blur upon the +waters. + +In silence they returned by train to Salisbury, sitting side by side, +gripping each other's hands. A drizzle of rain obscured the landscape. +Fancy told herself that sunshine would have been hard to bear. +Capricious Nature seemed to be mourning with her, dropping soft tears +upon a past four months so enchanting that they seemed, to-day, unreal, +a mirage, too beautiful to be seen again. But Spring laughs through her +showers. Before Nether-Applewhite was reached, the sun shone below the +clouds, setting in a blaze of crimson splendour. Solomon greeted the +women joyously; in the water meadows the Squire's black-and-white +Frisian-Holsteins were grazing quietly; now and again Fancy heard the +bleat of a calf. The plaintive cry seemed to turn her from a girl into a +woman. She realised that never again could she be the girl of yesterday. +Alfred would kiss a matron when he returned. + +After supper, when things were washed up, and Mrs. Yellam had taken up +her sewing, Fancy disappeared for a moment, returning with her pack of +cards. Mrs. Yellam made no comment at first, but she fidgeted in her +armchair. As Fancy shuffled the pack, she said quietly: + +"Don't, dear!" + +"I must, Mother. They told true before." + +"Very well." + +Resolutely she turned her eyes to her needle, not daring to look at +Fancy's face. She found herself wondering whether Fancy would be tempted +to cheat, to shuffle back some card of ill-omen. After an eternity of +suspense, she heard Fancy's clear voice: + +"It's quite all right. He's coming back." + +Mrs. Yellam laid down her sewing, and rose majestically. In a small +cupboard, a special sanctuary to the right of the hearth, she kept some +home-made cordials: mead, currant wine, and ginger-brandy. Upon very +special occasions she would produce such strong waters, and drink one +small glass, not more. Her feelings might be gauged by the cordial +selected. Mead was well enough after village christenings and +churchings; the currant wine was stronger tipple, and very heartening +after a wedding. The ginger-brandy warmed bodies chilled by winter +funerals. + +She took down the currant wine, and fetched two glasses. Having filled +them to the brim, she gave one to Fancy and held up the other. + +"Alferd." + +They clinked glasses and drank, very solemnly. Mrs. Yellam replaced the +bottle of wine and washed the glasses. Returning to her chair, she +perceived that Fancy was re-shuffling the cards. + +"Leave well alone, child." + +"I want to try something else." + +"What, you queer creature?" + +"I'm wondering whether IT will be a He or a She?" + +"What notions you has, to be sure!" + +Fancy laughed and dealt on. Mrs. Yellam sat down, looking into the +smouldering embers, seeing, possibly, the shadowy forms of the children +she had lost. The wooden cradle which had rocked them to sleep stood in +its place to the left of the fireplace--full of logs. It would serve for +Fancy's child, for her own grandchild. And upstairs, in an old chest of +drawers, lay some little things, tiny shifts and frocks with lavender +between them. Once, in a moment of dull despair, she had resolved to +burn them. A kindlier thought had urged her to give them, away. She had +put that thought from her frowningly. How deeply the gain of others +magnifies and distorts our own loss! Happy instinct must have +constrained her to keep these garments made by her own hands, although +at the time she never recked that they might be worn, so long +afterwards, by flesh of her flesh and bone of her bone. + +"Mother...." + +"Ah-h-h! You've settled the affair, have 'ee?" + +"Yes. 'Tis a boy--another Alfred. Ain't you glad?" + +"I be ready to welcome any babe, boy or girl, as belongs to Alferd--and +you." + +Solomon, dreaming blissfully of rats, woke up and wagged his tail. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +LEANNESS OF SOUL + + +Life meandered on in the village. Mrs. Yellam spent her mornings at +Pomfret Court; Fancy took her place in the afternoon; they were together +during the light-lengthening evenings. By this happy arrangement, two +women, not of the same temperament, never saw too much of each other. +They met at supper, glad to exchange the mild gossip of the day. And, +always, after uneasy matutinal hours, Fancy felt a renewed zest in life, +an appetite for work amongst the "boys," and a delightful consciousness +that physical strength--heretofore lacking--was slowly coming to fortify +a frail body against the still far-off ordeal. She learnt much from Mrs. +Yellam, and said so with flattering reiteration. Mrs. Yellam may have +learnt more from her, but she did not say so. That, perhaps, constituted +the essential difference between them. Fancy's thoughts and ideas +bubbled out of her mind, effervescent, like water from a chalybeate +spring. Mrs. Yellam had suppressed her intimate thoughts since +childhood. What she said, indeed, masked her real feelings, conveying to +others an impression of shrewdness, cocksureness and unruffled calm. It +would be grossly unfair to speak of this as a pose. Since girlhood, she +had been shrewd, sure of herself, and calm. Now, when she was past +sixty, these comfortable and admirable attributes deserted her. She +judged herself quite as severely as she judged her neighbours. She knew +that, inwardly, she was questioning her wisdom, her cherished +convictions, and her unruffled deportment. + +"I be a whited sepulchre," she told Solomon. + +Nevertheless, during these Spring days, when May was dancing in the +woods and across the fields, rest and refreshment fell upon Mrs. +Yellam's perplexed mind. By sheer force of will, for her own sake and +for Fancy's sake, she called "Pax" to introspection, and, like a +schoolboy, almost believed that the kindliest dew from heaven had fallen +upon her. During this month, too, Alfred happened to be out of the +danger zone, busy with new drafts who had not yet been under fire. And +everybody in Nether-Applewhite predicted that the war must end soon +because sheer exhaustion, military and economic, affected so +tremendously the belligerents. Upon this _cheval de bataille_ Sir +Geoffrey Pomfret rode over all obstacles. Old Captain Davenant bestrode +just such another charger. Uncle, you may be sure, ran with them, +throwing his tongue, speaking to a breast-high scent. + +"We be nigh the end on't," he told his cronies. "They Proosians be more +fed up wi' mud and blood than us. I talks of what I knows. The slaughter +o' they Huns be so fearsome that Kayser Bill be a-thinkin' night and day +o' polligammy." + +"Polly--who? I never heard tell o' she, Uncle." + +To this interruption Uncle replied with something of his sister's +majesty. + +"Ah-h-h! This war'd be over now, if beastly ignerunce ran mute. +Polligammy be practised, as I told old Captain, by cannibals and such. +For why? Because they eats up the young men, and then there bain't +husbands enough to go round. Polligammy allows a man to marry so many +wives as he's a mind to." + +"Lard preserve our dear lives!" + +"Yes, my sonnies, that's how life be preserved amongst savage tribes. +They Huns be cannibals and worse. When I told Squire as they fellers +used corps to make them tasty Bolony sausages, he couldn't believe me; +but 'tis a fact." + +"How do you know?" asked William Saint. + +"Never you mind how I knows, Saint Willum. I don't never help myself to +what isn't mine. I nourishes meself wi' sober truth, not lies. Where be +I? Ah, yes. Well, neighbours, they be come to that pretty pass, +polligammy. I allows that one wife be enough for me." + +"More than enough, 'tis said, Uncle." + +"You be seldom right, my man, but times you hit the mark. Now, I figures +it out this way. They Huns be savages, but not fools. One wife be more'n +enough for any man, and if so be as Kayser Bill makes polligammy the law +in German land, why, I says they won't stick it. 'Tis the beginning o' +the end." + +An old gaffer was not sure about this. Women in Germany, so he'd been +told, worked with dogs in carts. A farmer with fifty wives might get a +lot of work out of them. The gaffer spoke with some authority, having +buried three wives in his time. All present knew that they had worked +hard for their husband. Uncle, however, after more strong talk and weak +ale, convinced his audience that peace would be declared before October. +Wiser folk held the same opinion. + +The villagers, at last, were beginning to feel the pinch of war. Wages +had risen, greatly to their satisfaction, but prices outstripped them. +The local store closed shutters, because the proprietor was called up. +The baker was baking bread somewhere in the North Sea. On Sundays Mrs. +Yellam and other housewives ate cold victuals for dinner, unless they +stayed away from Morning Service to make hot beef-and-kidney puddings. +Shopping had to be done in Salisbury. This meant increased business for +the carrier. But, unhappily, Alfred's _locum tenens_ lacked the +executive ability to cope successfully with a glut of orders. + +In August, William Saint began a daily service to the county town. Peace +fled, silently, from Mrs. Yellam's pillow. + +In September, worse followed. Fortune, cruel jade, lashed out at Mrs. +Yellam, striking her hard below the belt. Alfred's resplendent 'bus was +knocked into a deep ditch by a huge Government trolley, which rolled +serenely on--undamaged. + +_Et tu, Brute----!_ + +Try to picture Mrs. Yellam's feelings. The 'bus was out of action. That +in itself might be deemed a serious mishap, to use a word often in +Nether-Applewhite mouths, a word applicable to murders, chicken-pox, +frozen water-pipes and other domestic disasters. External and internal +injuries to the car might be set right in six weeks or so. Skilled +mechanics in Salisbury were overworked. No definite promise could be +extracted from the firm that sold the 'bus to Alfred. But the driver, +the middle-aged man whom, with all his faults, Mrs. Yellam had come to +regard as a tower of sobriety and honesty, sustained concussion of the +brain. He soon recovered from this but, alas! his nerve was gone. +Obstinately, deaf to Fancy's coaxing and to Mrs. Yellam's trenchant +protestations, he tendered notice. How could he be replaced? By the time +that the 'bus was in order again--insurance covered all damage--William +Saint would have captured Alfred's faithful customers; the faithless +were his already. + +But what rankled so bitterly in Mrs. Yellam's heart, and would have +provoked the Caesarean apostrophe had she indulged in quotations from the +Swan of Avon, was the tormenting reflection that the Army had dealt her +this parlous blow, the Army she loved, because Alfred was part of it. +Rampaging on, like a ruthless Juggernaut, the trolley had crashed into +the 'bus, wiping it out, killing it and burying it in a ditch. + +Sympathy flowed into the Yellam cottage from all points of the compass, +a generous flood upon which Fancy floated buoyantly. Poor Mrs. Yellam +sank beneath it, helplessly aware of its significance. Everybody, of +course, knew that Alfred's business was bound up in the 'bus, ditched +indefinitely, perhaps forever. The cynical thought obtruded itself, +grinning derisively; help was proffered so eagerly, because it could not +be accepted. + +Satan had triumphed again. + +Uncle was nearly as much upset as the 'bus. The gallant fellow offered +his services to his sister. + +"Look 'ee here, Susan. I be a man o' parts. 'Tis no trick for me to larn +motor-drivin'. To use a figure o' speech, I be a born shover, clever, as +you be, wi' my brain and my fingers. Such a thatcher as Habakkuk Mucklow +be fit for anything. I feel it in me, dear, to command armies. Say the +word, and I'll declare war wi' Saint Willum; I'll downscramble 'un in +two jiffs." + +Mrs. Yellam thanked him, but the word was not said. + +She appeared to accept misfortune with grim resignation. Not even to +Fancy dared she unveil her heart. Alone with Solomon, she permitted a +few words to escape. + +"My faith, Solly, be on the wing again. Why should God Almighty raise +His hand against an old 'ooman? He might ha' seen fit to cripple me wi' +rheumatics. I could ha' borne that wi'out whimpering. But why do He +exalt Willum Saint? That's what tears me, my dog." + +Solomon spared no effort of mind or body in the attempt to assure his +mistress that these high matters were apprehended by all dumb animals. +Conscious of failure, he became very dejected. + +A letter from Alfred heartened her a little. + + "Dear Mother:" (he wrote) "I hope this finds you in the + pink, as it leaves me. Don't worry about the old 'bus! _I + don't, not a bit._ I have a notion that if you worry much + 'twill be bad for Fancy and for Somebody Else, you know who + I mean. As for William Saint, I say this--take a squint at + his face! I wouldn't have his liver for the best carrying + business in the world. If you've set your dear heart on my + punching a rascal's head, I'll do it, so soon as I get back, + and make a job of it, too. Hard blows hurt them as get them; + hard thoughts hurt them as think them. I puzzled that out in + the trenches, where we be making very merry again. You'll + worry too about the loss of money. I say to that--_Napoo_! + That's French. I parleyvoo with the best of them, but when + it comes to buying stuff, they do me in a fair treat...." + +Mrs. Yellam read and re-read the letter. Fancy was at the Court when it +came. Then she said to Solomon: + +"Wherever does that boy o' mine get his Christian principles? Not from +me, Solly, not from me. Wag tail, little man, and I'll tell 'ee for why. +Willum Saint, next Christmas, maybe, 'll take such a head to Salisbury +as never was." + +Sol barked. + +Alfred's sentence about merry-making in the trenches provoked much +thought. Mrs. Yellam had talked freely with scores of wounded Tommies. +They came, they conquered all reserves, they went. Some actually +complained that life in Nether-Applewhite seemed "dull" after the "fun" +in the dug-outs. At first, she suspected "leg-pulling," but she limped +to the slow conclusion that the high spirits of these gallant fellows +came _from_ the trenches, and were not, as she had supposed at first, a +natural result of finding themselves snug and safe after shell-fire. +Possessing the qualities which distinguish a "tufting" hound--a good +nose for a scent, staying powers, and tenacity in sticking to her +quarry, Mrs. Yellam decided, ultimately, that millions of young men and +women were living, like gnats, for the passing hour, buzzing gaily here +and there, utterly regardless of past and future. + +Could she bring herself to so happy a condition of mind? + +"Take no thought for the morrow." + +That injunction couldn't be ignored. Nevertheless, she had ignored it +all her life. Hence, from a material point of view, her sound economic +condition. She was independent of the 'bus. + +Such thoughts were obsessing, also, the parson of the parish. + +Hamlin was quite as handicapped as Mrs. Yellam by principles adopted +long ago which he deemed, before the war, to be bomb-proof. He had +pinned his faith to the masses, dismissing the classes as effete and +lapped in luxury and indifference. All workers appealed to him +irresistibly; men and women of leisure rather exasperated him. He held +with Matthew Arnold that conduct was three-fourths of life, whereas +culture might or might not claim the odd quarter. + +The masses had disappointed him. The classes seemed to have justified +their claim to superiority not in mere education but in a capacity and +willingness to scrap self-interest which astounded him. He had expected, +too, a tremendous upward movement from German Socialists. Indeed, he had +regarded the Socialists of Europe as a band of brothers prepared to +stand shoulder to shoulder against autocracy. + +And they had not done so. + +He could find for the masses, not at the front, all the excuses which +fell so glibly from the lips of Democracy's champions. Strikers +complained of lack of good faith on the part of the Government, of local +injustices, of this and that, but the fact remained that self-interest +swayed them, as it had swayed the privileged classes before the war. The +tables seemed to be turned. Aristocracy, governed possibly by its fine +motto, "_Noblesse oblige_," hurled self-interest to the void; Democracy +picked it up and hugged it. Indisputable evidence exhibited Labour as +rejoicing in an increased wage, and spending pounds a week upon +luxuries, many actually praying that the war might continue, because +they believed that the end of it would mean a return to dull, grinding +pre-war conditions. + +And Hamlin admitted sorrowfully to himself that if the war did end +suddenly, leaving Labour triumphant, insatiate for more and more wealth, +and in a position to dictate terms to Capital, that the country would be +plunged into abysmal depths, depths in which new tyrants would impose a +new slavery without any of the restrictions which culture and tradition +had prescribed upon the former autocrats and plutocrats. + +He envisaged England at the mercy of the mob! + +With pleasure and relief he turned from the Industrials to the Soldiers. +What a fine spirit animated them! With Mrs. Yellam, he had arrived, by a +different road, at the same conclusion. + +Our men of all ranks were facing unspeakable horrors with a laugh. + +How had it come to pass? + +According to Hamlin's teaching, a supreme Sacrifice, a Divine Atonement, +had regenerated the pagan world. Did sacrifice make not only for +regeneration but for joyousness? Lionel Pomfret, still on his crutches, +was joyous. The Squire, after the sale of many heirlooms, was joyous. A +finer humanity informed him, radiating from him. + +The Parson pondered these things in his heart. He might have found +another object-lesson in William Saint. He was unmistakably prospering, +making money hand over fist. But he was not joyous. + +Very reluctantly, Hamlin decided that the time for peace might be far +distant, if the designs of Omnipotence were rightly apprehended by him. +Armageddon would continue till pain had purged the whole world, till +materialism in its hydraheaded forms was slain by spirituality, by a +faith, simple as that preached by the Nazarene, which counted worldly +gain as naught if such gain involved the loss of the soul. + +Faithful to his promise to Alfred, Hamlin kept a watchful eye on Mrs. +Yellam. Her empty pew had affected him poignantly. He thought of empty +pews throughout Europe. They stood mute witnesses against teachers and +preachers, against creeds that crumbled when the cannon thundered. He +respected this old woman for braving gossip by staying at home. She had +moral courage, nearly as rare and even more precious than common-sense. +But when she came back to her pew, when he heard her loud responses, he +realised sadly that her son, not her God, had found this wandering sheep +and led it back to the fold. + +At any moment the pew might be empty again. + +Next Sunday, he took for his text the verse out of the +hundredth-and-sixth Psalm: + +"_And He gave them their desire; but withal He sent leanness into their +soul._" + +No coincidence was involved in this choice of a text. Fancy Broomfield, +before she married, had asked her master to explain "leanness of soul." +He had said a few simple words. Afterwards, he jotted down some notes +and put them away. + +He re-read these notes, thinking of William Saint, whose activities had +not escaped his notice. But he wrote the sermon with a wider +application. And although he had to bear in mind the limited +intelligence of his congregation, what he set down constituted an +indictment of a material, world-wide prosperity. + +Hamlin began by reminding his parishioners of what he had said in his +sermon on patriotism: the soul in its essence was always right. + +"What there is of it," he added impressively. "Some souls are very +lean." + +Jane Mucklow maintained afterwards that the Parson looked hard at Uncle. +Uncle was equally positive that austere eyes dwelt on Jane. Mrs. Yellam +sat bolt upright in her pew with Fancy beside her. William Saint assumed +an air of detachment. He attended church once a week to curry favour +with his Squire and landlord. He held Hamlin in some disdain, because so +able a man had pushed himself no farther along preferment's highway than +Nether-Applewhite. A man who had played cricket for the Gentlemen of +England ought surely to be a dean at least, if he had any gumption in +him. + +Hamlin repeated the text. + +"I want you to notice," he said, in his quiet voice, "that the word +'soul' is used in the singular. God sent leanness into the soul of His +people. Nations, therefore, like individuals, possess souls. + +"Has leanness entered into our national soul? + +"We have prospered exceedingly. We are even richer than our expert +accountants deemed us to be. Some of you may have glanced casually at +the stupendous figures which set forth the wealth and resources of the +British Empire. We forget to consider how this vast wealth is piled up. +It is not my purpose to consider that with you, to-day. But such +consideration is the duty of those who are able to deal intelligently +with these astounding figures. + +"We have been, in short, given our desire. + +"In the text you will note that God gave His people their desire; and +then He sent leanness into their souls. + +"What was their desire? The Psalmist informs us in the context. God's +Chosen People had wandered from Him. They had corrupted themselves, as +we read in Exodus. I will cite one instance known to the youngest child +here: they had set up and worshipped the calf of Horeb, the golden calf, +which has stood forth ever since as the symbol of Mammon, the symbol of +material prosperity. They wanted this golden calf, and God gave it to +them. And then He sent leanness into their soul. + +"To many of us this text presents difficulties. Is it wrong for a nation +to desire worldly prosperity? Is it wrong for an individual, for any one +of us, to desire to better one's condition in life, to rise, as it is +called, in the world? Most certainly not. Such a desire is firmly rooted +in every healthy nation, in every healthy man and woman. It is basic, +the mainspring of human endeavour and human advancement, rooted in +nations and individuals by God. + +"The desire, then, in its simplest form, must be right. Its +accomplishment may be utterly wrong. + +"Desires change their character during accomplishment. Thrift, for +instance, may degenerate into parsimony; temperance, if uncontrolled, +leads to intemperance; the noblest ambitions may become insensate; +proper care of the body, which I have commended to you, may end in +vanity; love, alas! is often deformed into lust. All that is obvious. +Nobody here questions it. + +"Desires, then, face two ways. They may lead us to God or away from Him; +they may enrich or impoverish the soul. + +"But why, you may ask, does God, as in the text, deliberately gratify +soul-impoverishing desires in a nation, with the knowledge and therefore +with the intention of making the soul of that nation lean? + +"The answer is plain. Nations, like individuals, exercise the privilege +of free-will. The choice between good and evil is theirs, as it is mine, +and yours. + +"How can we tell whether the soul of a nation be lean? + +"There is an infallible test, the same test which each of us must apply +to ourselves. Never forget that what we think, we are. What we go on +thinking, we become. By a nation's thoughts, by your own thoughts, the +soul's stature may be measured. If the thoughts of a nation, if your own +thoughts, dwell habitually upon self-advancement and self-indulgence, be +sure that the soul is dwindling instead of expanding. If our thoughts, +collectively or individually, are hard, jealous thoughts concerning +other nations, the soul is growing lean. But when we think of others +with love animating our thoughts, and if that love, in ever-widening +circles, includes not only our friends but all, all who claim from us +pity and consideration, then it is very well with the soul. It is +expanding, and it is capable of an expansion so immense that, like Time +and Space, no finite mind can measure it. Hate impoverishes souls and +bodies. A man under the influence of violent passion is physically the +worse. Any doctor will tell you that. A nation convulsed by hate is +physically weaker. Violence is not strength. It may appear to be so for +a brief time. In a stand-up fight, between two men, the man who loses +his temper is likely to lose the victory. At this moment, a gospel of +hate is convulsing our enemies. We may, and must, hate what they have +done, the atrocious crimes perpetrated by and for Authority, but let us +beware of hating, as they hate, because such rancour eats away the soul. +Let us remember Who said: 'God forgive them, for they know not what they +do!' + +"Let us consider more attentively the desires of a nation and their +direction--upward or downward. I repeat emphatically that the desires of +a nation are the desires of the individual immeasurably multiplied. + +"And, first, I should like to suggest to you that desires concerned with +material ends, such as money, or any other worldly ambition, are +generally gratified, provided we work for them hard enough. + +"When are desires soul-impoverishing? How can we tell when a nation or +an individual, after rising steadily upward, reaches a point from which +they and he, as steadily, descend? + +"The answer may be found in the Book of Micah: 'He hath shewed thee, O +man, what is good, and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do +justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?' + +"In itself a nation can achieve much, so can an individual; but if +self-advancement, in any form, whether modest or far-reaching, relies +upon itself and takes to itself the credit and glory, then we are not +walking humbly with God, but speeding from Him along a road that may +lead to success, as the world interprets success, but which leads, also, +to disappointment, disillusionment, and often at the last--despair. + +"The great conquerors of history have not been happy men. + +"Everything that is done vaingloriously turns to ashes. From that sad +thought we may take this much consolation. Ashes, as you farmers know, +are great fertilisers. I know of no greater proof of God's wisdom and +mercy than this: the ashes of our failures do, so I believe, cause good +to bloom out of evil. + +"If it be true that leanness has been sent into the soul of this nation, +if we have not walked humbly with God, what can be done? The answer is +to be found not only in the Bible, but in every chapter of the world's +history. We must make atonement by sacrifice." + +He paused, and many remembered that pause afterwards. The preacher stood +erect, but his eyes were not on the congregation. They looked out +dreamily into a world in anguish. Tears trickled down Fancy's cheeks. +With her quick sensibilities, she divined that the Parson's thoughts had +flown to France, where his Benjamin was fighting, not in hate, none who +knew the boy could believe that, but inspired by the faith that a +selfless Cause would triumph. Instantly, her own thoughts flew to +Alfred. If--if sacrifice were demanded of her--? She looked up. Some +intuition told her that Hamlin was ready for any sacrifice. His face +appeared calm. But she became aware of tension, as if a far-seeing man +were braced against impending calamity. She recalled stories current in +the village after the _Lusitania_ was torpedoed: stories of men who had +confronted death without a tremor. Surely, at such a moment God stood +with them. + +Would He stand with her, if Alfred did not come back? + +She stole a glance at Mrs. Yellam. + +Her face remained impassive. But again intuition told Fancy that this +outward calmness masked bitter trouble and perplexity. Timidly she +slipped her hand into the hand of the old woman, pressing it gently. The +pressure was not returned, because, perhaps, it may not have been felt. +Mrs. Yellam, Fancy perceived, was staring at a mural tablet to the right +of the pulpit, new and shining brass upon which were inscribed the names +of two nephews of Captain Davenant. He had read the Lessons, as usual, +but in a less rasping voice, so she had thought. She heard Hamlin's +quiet tones: + +"Let us prepare ourselves for greater sacrifices." + +The rest of the sermon was devoted to particular rather than general +ends. The Parson appealed, as was his wont, to the children, and the +younger members of the congregation, the twigs waiting to be inclined. +And to these his appeal was persuasive and suggestive, never didactic or +minatory. He shone best when conducting a children's service, when he +walked amongst them using the simplest words. + +Perhaps he knew that the middle-aged and old could be touched to finer +issues indirectly. In every heart, however worn and tired, there lingers +a subtle fragrance of youth which thought of youth releases. The sad +fact that many of the elder people were mourning may have tempered what +speech he addressed to them, and many of them were aware of this, +shifting uneasily in their pews as they remembered similar words spoken +in the same place by the same man twenty years back. + +Once more, Mrs. Yellam walked home in silence. Fancy, engrossed by her +own thoughts, did not speak till they entered the cottage. Then she +said, hesitatingly: + +"'Tis strange. We talked of lean souls the first day Alfie brought me to +see you." + +"Ay--so we did." + +"And afterwards I asked Mr. Hamlin to tell me what 'lean souls' meant." + +"Did 'ee? He never looked once at me this marning." + +"Why should he?" + +Mrs. Yellam answered heavily: + +"I dunno. But I'd a notion that he had me in mind. 'Twas a notable +sermon, but----" + +"Yes?" + +"He ain't been tried as I have." + +She went upstairs slowly to take off her bonnet and shawl. + +Upon the following Wednesday, the sermon assumed a fresh importance and +significance. + +Edward Hamlin was killed in action. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +SAINT WILLUM + + +It was a blow over the heart to Nether-Applewhite. Master Teddy, as +everybody called him, had grown to man's estate amongst the villagers, +but he was remembered as a boy, full of pranks, a bit of a scapegrace, +with a smile that Uncle affirmed to be "so good as sixpence." Uncle +assumed a band of crepe, and said to Susan Yellam: + +"Master Teddy be taken, and us useless old sticks be left. I taught 'un +to set night lines. He'd a tang o' the poacher, he had, but allers ready +to give away what trout he catched out o' old Captain's water. Bold as +brass, too, wi' rich or poor. And a good fighter. He fit 'No Account +Harry' back o' village pound, and licked 'un, too, a boy bigger'n +older'n he. A pleasant word for all, and fair bustin' wi' fun and +kindness. I tell 'ee this, I be so sorrowful as if I'd lost a son, but +there's rejoicing where he be gone. I can see Saint Peter a-openin' wide +the gate to let 'un in." + +Greater orators have declaimed less sincere funeral orations. + +Mrs. Yellam said little. Her troubled face made Fancy unhappy. But when +she spoke of Edward Hamlin, Mrs. Yellam cut her short: + +"He be gone. It don't bear speaking of. Why should such as he be +sacrificed to atone for our sins?" + +"If God gave His Only Son----!" + +"Ah-h-h! That be it. _If...._" + +"Mother!" + +"You be shocked, and no wonder. But unless I speaks what I feels to 'ee, +I must hold my tongue. And more decent, too. I be mazed beyond words. I +be losing my grip o' this world and the next." + +Fancy met Hamlin two days afterwards as she was leaving Pomfret Court. +She quickened her step, but he stopped still. She said simply: + +"I be so grieved about Mr. Edward. He was so full of life." + +Hamlin took her hand. + +"Thank you. The sympathy of all of you is much to me, more than you +think." He paused adding slowly: "He may be fuller of life, Fancy, where +he is now." + +She went her way, strangely comforted. Her time was approaching. Soon +she must remain at home, awaiting her ordeal. She confronted that with +the courage which is so often the attribute of physically frail women. +The month before the wonderful event would be happily occupied in making +the _layette_ or such of it as Mrs. Yellam couldn't provide; and Fancy +had in mind the lining and trimming of a baby-basket fit for a tiny +prince. She intended to embroider a broad blue riband with this legend: +"To my little son." She made absolutely certain that the child would be +a son. Already she had envisaged his life from the cradle to the grave. +She wouldn't allow him to play too rough games, but he must be a _Man_; +she shrank from what he would have to go through before he attained his +sire's stature; she rehearsed a prayer suitable for babbling lips; she +arrayed him in knickerbockers and despatched him to school, with many +injunctions not to play truant, or pull the hair of small girls, or be +pert to his teacher. Of course, he would be just such a son to her as +Alfred was to his mother. She went so far in mental vagabondage as to +choose a wife for him, a very practical young woman with a reassuring +physique, quite unlike herself. Being his father's son, every inch of +him, it was certain that he would have "affairs" with other young women +before he chose the "One and Only." Fancy meant to deal faithfully with +such flirtations. One of them would nearly capture the youth. He would +be saved from a too audacious baggage by his mother! She hoped that he +would not be too good, but full of fun, like Mr. Edward. He would be a +carrier, because all wars would be over and done with after this war. + +These were her day-dreams. + +At night, she was not so happy. At night she thought much of Mrs. +Yellam. That troubled face formed itself in the dark, mutely entreating +comfort and counsel which Fancy could not evoke out of her eagerness to +help a sorely-stricken creature. + +Why did Mrs. Yellam borrow trouble? + +Why did she believe that God had forsaken her? What a terrible notion +this of Satan supreme and triumphant in Nether-Applewhite! But she had +faith in God's mercy. He would lift this black cloud from a poor old +woman's heart. + +About two weeks after Edward Hamlin's death, unexpected balm, very +precious spikenard, was poured upon Mrs. Yellam's lacerated feelings. +William Saint had got his desire and leanness of soul withal. Alfred's +good business was his. When he drove past the Yellam cottage, Mrs. +Yellam turned her face from the window, if she happened to be there. She +told Uncle that she discerned a mocking smile, a contemptuous upper lip, +upon that hard, yellow face. Uncle nodded, saying nothing. But leaving +his sister's house, he laid a couple of fingers upon his biceps as he +contracted the muscles of it. He smiled genially. His biceps still +swelled hard and big as a cricket ball. And only the day before he had +been out running with the hounds. William Saint did not run. He walked +to his objectives, the sort of tortoise, Uncle reflected, who wins +prizes from the more nimble hare. + +He was so pleasant with Jane that she suspected a frontal attack upon +her money-box. Uncle, however, impetrated no loan. Later in the +afternoon, when she went to the fowl-house to collect eggs, she +surprised her lord and master, with his coat off, vigorously punching a +sack of bran in the shed that adjoined the chicken-run. + +"Whatever be you doing?" she asked. + +Uncle grinned. + +"I be working off some ale, Jane. So thin stuff it be that I wants to +get rid of it quick." + +"I thought you was gone mad." + +"Ah-h-h! Others may think that afore we be much older." + +To her further amazement, Uncle remained at home that evening instead of +going to the _Sir John Barleycorn_. She wondered if he were sickening +for an illness. Possibly, the Parson's sermon on lean souls had affected +him. Presently Uncle's earnest words lent colour to this possibility. He +observed didactically: + +"Hate be bad for the body. Parson got that notion from me. A man as +hates his feller-men, and lies awake nights plottin' and plannin' evil, +bain't never a fighter." + +"How about they Proosians?" + +Uncle riposted gaily: + +"I hain't one to misparage the enemy, but from what I hears, and you +knows I hears more than most, they Proosians fights wi' wallopin' big +guns, not wi' fisteses." + +"Who's talking o' fisteses?" + +"I be. I reckons as a man past sixty might well stand up to a Proosian +not more'n thirty." + +"You ain't never thinking of enlisting, Habakkuk?" + +"No, no. I couldn't leave 'ee, Jane." + +"You takes keer o' yourself for my sake. I knows that. What be you +thinking of?" + +"You'll know soon enough, old girl. I minds that time when I bruised +meself so bad slidin' off a slippery roof bang on to a stone wall. You +rubbed in some wonnerful stuff. Any of it left?" + +"Lard help us! I knew you'd miss your ale. You bain't never thinking o' +drinking Helliman's Embrocation?" + +"Not yet. Have you the bottle handy?" + +Jane nodded; Uncle relapsed into silence, broken by rumblings and +chucklings. He went to bed early and slept soundly. + +Next afternoon, at four, he entered the sanded bar of Saint's tavern. +Saint drove his 'bus to Salisbury upon alternate days. He had a man to +take his place upon the other days when business kept him at home. +Behind the bar stood a fresh-coloured young woman, quick of tongue and +hand, floridly good-looking, with very alert eyes. Gossip affirmed that +she was secretly engaged to Saint. Jane Mucklow remarked that the hussy +ought to be, if she wasn't. Uncle greeted her pleasantly, nodded to +those present, called for a tankard of ale, and enquired tenderly after +Saint Willum. The young woman frowned. Then she said sharply: + +"I've a mind to tell you something." + +The company present pricked ears. Uncle smiled, drawing himself up, +inflating his chest, quite ready for a preliminary spar. + +"You tell it, my girl. 'Tis crool to think o' what wimmen-folk suffer +from allers holding their tongues." + +"Your tongue is too sharp. Mr. Saint is civil to you. Be civil to him. +That's all." + +She drew his ale, and handed it to him. + +Uncle looked at her with twinkling eyes. She was making things easy for +him, and he felt quite grateful to her. She had fired the first shot. +This might or might not be used as a _casus belli_. He said, meaningly: + +"Be that advice or a warning like?" + +"Take it as both, Mr. Mucklow." + +"I will. Now, tell me this, my girl; be you speaking for yourself, or +for your master? If you be speaking for yourself, I be minded to tell +'ee that you be paid to serve customers, and not to improve their +manners. If you be speaking for Willum Saint, I thanks you very kindly +and passes no more remarks." + +This, it will be admitted, was a crafty speech on Uncle's part, and +pleased him mightily. The girl was sure to resent a rebuke before +others, and already the gaffers were grinning at her. If she shifted +responsibility to Saint Willum, a _casus belli_ had been established. +The young woman lacked Uncle's _finesse_. She answered sullenly: + +"I spoke up for Mr. Saint, because he's not here to speak for himself." + +Uncle felt that this was not satisfactory enough, although promising. + +"You means," he said incisively, "that you speaks words which your +master bain't man enough to speak for hisself, either to my face or +behind me back?" + +The derisive intonation placed upon "master" brought a flush to the +girl's cheek. Her eyes sparkled. And she believed Saint to be a man. + +"If you want it straight," she retorted, "the words I used have been +spoken by Mr. Saint and others." + +"Thank 'ee," said Uncle, lifting his tankard. "I drinks to your good +health, miss. Cheer oh! as our dear lads say." + +He buried his nose in the tankard. But he drank little in it, carrying +it to the stout oak table near the fire. The gaffers testified +afterwards, that Uncle's talk, before Saint came in, was even more +genial and easy than usual. And Saint's face, when he appeared, was in +marked contrast to Uncle's rubicund cheerful countenance. Obviously +Saint was out of temper. He had been cited to appear before the local +tribunal again, and exemption might not be granted twice. "Comb-out" +articles were appearing in the daily press. And Saint, who tapped +private sources of information, was well aware that Captain Davenant, +Chairman of the Board, had expressed a strong opinion that Saint, a +Class A fellow, b'George! ought to be kicked into the ranks. Saint had +just begun to realise, also, that he was hoist with his own petard. +Alfred Yellam, as carrier, set a precedent, shewing that carriers could +find less able-bodied men to transact necessary local business. + +Uncle looked hard at him. + +"What's wrong, Saint Willum?" he asked, in the drawling tone that always +provoked a cackle from the gaffers. + +Saint looked hard at Uncle. He had good reason for knowing that Uncle +saw eye to eye with the Captain. Before entering the bar, the landlord +of the _Sir John Barleycorn_ had drunk some whisky from a bottle which +he kept locked up in his bedroom. In a word, he was ripe for a quarrel. + +"What's wrong?" he repeated viciously. "You are. I'm fed up with your +insolence. You take yourself off to the _Pomfret Arms_. The landlord +there may want your money and your sauce. I've had enough of both." + +The young woman smiled. If, as she expected, and not without good +reason, William Saint became her husband, he might turn out, with +discreet handling, a docile helpmeet. Within twenty-four hours, she had +urged him to "out" Habakkuk Mucklow at the first opportunity. Saint had +hesitated, observing angrily that he detested Uncle, and would gladly +attend his funeral. At the same time, the man brought custom to the +tavern. If he left it, some of his cronies might leave with him. +Whereupon the young woman remarked scornfully: "If you can stick it, +I've nothing more to say." And then she had eyed him slowly from heel to +head, as if taking stock of an animal not quite sound. Saint knew that +his manhood had been challenged by a woman who was becoming +indispensable to him. + +Uncle rose, tankard in hand. His smile was so disarming that Saint, +probably, believed him to be harmless. Accordingly he scowled the more +fiercely as Uncle slowly approached him. An expert of the prize ring, +comparing the two men physically, would have said, off-hand, that age +could never fight youth on equal terms. Saint was stoutly built, heavy +in the shoulder, with good underpinning. He may have lacked two inches +of Uncle's height. + +Uncle feigned nervousness, luring Saint on. Had the landlord been +perfectly sober, he might have suspected guile. Whisky had inflamed his +mind and paralysed his judgment. + +"Don't 'ee talk that way, Mr. Saint. I be old enough to be your father. +And not the man I was." + +Saint exploded. + +"If you don't walk out, I'll kick you out." + +Uncle almost cooed at him. + +"What brave words to an old gaffer past sixty! And before ladies, too." + +The sly emphasis on "ladies" provoked a titter from a granfer warmed by +hot ale. + +Saint sprang to the attack. Now, Uncle, the sly old campaigner, had +foreseen this opening. He knew well enough the advantage of a first +blow. He knew, also, that Saint, out of condition as he was, might end a +fight at close quarters in thirty seconds. Within one minute, so Uncle +reckoned, Saint would have lost fifty per cent of energy and endurance. +With a gay laugh he dashed the ale he had so valiantly refrained from +drinking in Saint's face. + +"That'll cool 'ee," said Uncle, as he side-stepped as gracefully as a +dancing-master. + +Saint was half-blinded, but now well aware that Uncle meant business. He +must "finish" him at once, inflict a "knock-out" blow. He charged again, +head down, like an infuriated bull. Sober reflection might have warned +him that Uncle's arms were longer than his. Uncle raised the tankard and +brought it down hard upon a thick skull. Saint fell to the floor, +stunned. The young woman screamed out: + +"You've killed him!" + +Uncle laughed pleasantly: + +"Not me. I only tapped 'un. Don't 'ee be afeard, my dear. He'll live to +make 'ee miserable. I hopes as I ain't hurt this handsome tankard." He +examined it. "No. 'Tis ale-tight yet. I sees a dent though. 'Twill +serve, like rosemary, for remembrance. Ah-h-h! He be comin' to." + +Saint raised his head, but remained huddled up on the sanded floor, +rubbing his head and staring at the grinning faces about him. Uncle +addressed him with courtesy. + +"Willum Saint, I be a marciful man. There be many here as could testify +and swear by the Book as you assaulted and batteried me, but I won't +have the law on 'ee. More, never again will I call 'ee Saint Willum. For +why?--your immortial soul be too lean. I means to call 'ee, after this +memorable day, Mr. Sinner. And now, Mr. Sinner, I takes myself off to +the _Pomfret Arms_, and my friends go wi' me." + +Three out of the five other men rose solemnly, and called for their +reckoning. The two that remained might have done so had they possessed +cash in their pockets. + +Uncle took off his hat to the young woman, and bowed politely: + +"Good-bye, miss. If he become too rampagious, do 'ee whisper 'tankard' +to 'un." + +Uncle did not walk straight to the _Pomfret Arms_; he fetched a compass, +calling upon Mrs. Yellam. He told his tale without embellishment. Susan +threw back her head and laughed. Then she kissed her brother. + +"Habakkuk," she said solemnly, "'twas a gert victory for you, _and for +me_, over Satan." + +Next day, by the luck of things, Saint met Uncle face to face in the +village street. + +"You downed me last night, because I wasn't sober." + +"Drunk _and_ disorderly!" exclaimed Uncle, raising his voice so that +others might hear. "What would Squire say, if so be as you came afore +the Bench?" + +Saint was perfectly sober and smugly self-possessed. + +"You couldn't down me this morning." + +"I be willing to try," said Uncle, perceiving that he had room for +side-stepping. "You takes your coat off and I takes off mine, and we +goes at it, here and now, slam-bang." + +Saint declined this cordial invitation. He scowled at Uncle, and went +his way. + +Next Sunday Mrs. Yellam's responses were half a second ahead of the +congregation. On the Saturday Fancy had received a long letter from +Alfred. He was out of the danger zone again, and in a rest camp with his +men, who "groused" at "fatigues" imposed upon them unreasonably. Alfred +reported himself sound of left arm, and, as usual, "in the pink." +William Saint did not attend Divine Service, thinking, possibly, that a +large strip of plaster across his head might distract the attention of +the congregation. In this he was needlessly thoughtful, inasmuch as +everybody in the parish knew what had happened in the sanded tap-room, +and acclaimed Uncle as the true sire of a valorous son. Uncle sat in his +pew, as upright as Mrs. Yellam, inviting inspection with an upward cock +of one eyebrow, as much as to say: + +"Look at me, neighbours. Not a mark on me!" + +You may be sure that the Squire had the epic pat from the lips of +Captain Davenant, to whom Uncle had recited it when shooting in the New +Forest. More, the Captain made it clear to the Autocrat how insidiously +Alfred Yellam had been undermined by "Mr. Sinner." Finally, it was +decided between them that William Saint would serve his country to +better advantage away from Nether-Applewhite, and the Squire, gravely +affected by Susan Yellam's troubles, swore that he would personally see +to it that Alfred's carrying business should be resurrected. On Monday +morning, Mrs. Yellam, upon arrival at the Court, was informed that Sir +Geoffrey wished to see her in his room. For a terrible moment, she +feared that the Squire might be about to break bad news of Alfred. A +glance at his jolly face reassured her. + +"Sit you down, Susan. Make yourself comfortable. What about a glass of +port?" + +Mrs. Yellam associated port with funerals. She declined any liquid +refreshment, very politely. The Squire stood upon the hearth-rug, +beneath the portrait of his father, and thrust his hands in his +breeches' pockets. + +"Now, Susan, where is Alfred's 'bus?" + +"In Salisbury, Sir Geoffrey." + +"Out of dry dock? Ready for the road--um?" + +"I believe so, Sir Geoffrey, but Willum Saint has the business; and I +don't know where to turn for a man." + +"That's going to be my affair. I should have made it my affair, if you +had come to me without my sending for you. Alfred has been treated +abominably. All the facts never reached my ears till yesterday, when I +heard about Uncle and the tankard." + +He laughed, and Susan laughed with him. The Squire waxed confidential. + +"Just between us, let it go no further, William Saint will be called +up." + +"The Lard be praised! This be heartsome news, Sir Geoffrey. If you gets +me a man, trade'll come back." + +"You rest easy. I repeat, all this is my affair. I'm still Squire of +Nether-Applewhite. Have you seen my grandson lately?" + +"No, Sir Geoffrey." + +"You come along with me to the nursery, and we'll have a squint at him. +He's a whopper." + +And thus the sun shone bright once more in Mrs. Yellam's heaven. The +Squire proved even better than his word. What he said in private to +William Saint was never known. Sir Geoffrey found, for Mrs. Yellam, a +reliable driver, an ex-soldier discharged from the army but not +disabled, with a merry eye and a persuasive tongue. Saint's 'bus went to +the station, as before, not to Salisbury. + +You may think of this time as the St. Martin's Summer of Mrs. Yellam's +life. The dull November days drifted by, bringing with them mist and +rain and wind; the trees were stripped of their leaves; Nature sang her +requiem for the dying year; but Pentecostal joys filled Mrs. Yellam's +heart. + +And this Feast of Rejoicing affected Fancy and her child. The Yellam +cottage became a heat-centre. From it radiated warming beams. Susan, at +work in her kitchen, could hear Fancy's clear voice singing "Abide with +Me." + + Hold Thou Thy Cross before my closing eyes; + Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies: + Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee; + In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me! + +If it were only so, reflected Mrs. Yellam, how rich and happy life would +be, with all its ups and downs. She remained obstinately convinced that +she wanted the Lord to abide with her. It was He Who left her so +mysteriously. And then, of course, Satan took the vacant place. She +examined herself rigorously. She dealt justly with her neighbours; she +loved mercy; she read her Bible each day. What more could she do? Really +and truly, she demanded so little of Omnipotence--not wealth, not even +health, for, at her age, she must expect aches and pains; just peace, +only that, and Alfred. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +FOOL-WISDOM + + +Fancy's approaching confinement aroused no apprehensions in the mind of +Mrs. Yellam. She took it for granted that nothing untoward would happen. +Probably, the doctor in attendance would make things appear more serious +than they were. Deep down in her heart lay the conviction that doctors, +in their own interests, pursed up lips and bent frowning brows over +sick-beds, because when their patients pulled through the greater credit +attached itself to them. Her own confinements had been reasonably easy, +so she told Fancy. + +Both women wondered whether Alfred would get his Christmas leave and his +Christmas present at the same time. That double event, however, lay upon +the knees of the gods. + +Leave or no leave, Mrs. Yellam told herself that Alfred was safe till +the Spring. Why this conviction came to her she did not explain. Had you +asked her, she would have replied, probably, that the wounded boys at +the Court affirmed nothing to be doing in mid-winter. The sight of +William Saint in khaki nearly made her break into song. The banns of his +approaching marriage to the young person behind the bar were called in +Nether-Applewhite Church, none too soon, according to Jane Mucklow. +Uncle was heard to whisper, "And sarve 'un right!" by neighbours in +adjoining pews. He assured his cronies that Mr. Sinner's punishment was +to come. Susan rejoiced, also, in the notable fact that +Nether-Applewhite harboured no conscientious objectors. Ocknell, the +next parish, was not so fortunate. + +In fine, the first half of December glided by swiftly and pleasantly. +Alfred's business became firmly re-established, and, with Saint no +longer competing, more remunerative than ever. Mrs. Yellam said to +Fancy: + +"Your child, seemin'ly, may be rich." + +She refused to speak of the child as a son. But Fancy's conviction about +that remained impregnable. + +"I ought to know, Mother." + +"Maybe. But you don't. Nobody knows." + +"Alfred wants him to be a girl." + +"Do he? I wonders why." + +"He said a little maid would traipse so nicely after you. I promised him +to call her Lizzie. She'll be the next." + +"Lizzie! Ah-h-h! Alferd be a good son. Fancy his thinkin' o' that. +Lizzie----!" + +She spoke the name almost under her breath. A moment later, she removed +her spectacles, and wiped them. The two women were sitting in the +kitchen by the hearth, after supper. A basket held the logs. The cradle +was upstairs in Mrs. Yellam's room. In that room, despite Fancy's +protests, Alfred's child would be born. In that room Susan Yellam's +first baby had wailed his regret at finding himself in a wicked world. +In that room her husband had died. Everything lay ready to hand; the +monthly nurse lived only a quarter of a mile away; the doctor had been +advised that he might be wanted at any minute. + +Fancy loved to sit over the fire, listening to the wind talking to the +chimney, telling that stay-at-home the tale of many wanderings. She +liked to make-believe that the winds were real persons, although she had +never heard of Aeolus and his rebellious prisoners. She hated to pick +flowers because they must feel so unhappy out of their own garden. Of +course, they died of loneliness in mid-Victorian vases. She held +inviolate her faith in fairies, beneficent and malevolent. She assured +Mrs. Yellam that Solomon could see pixies dancing in their rings. How +else could you account for his stopping in the middle of a field and +barking? + +Of her mother and the four Evangelists she said nothing. + +Uncle and she became great friends. + +Three days out of the week (as has been mentioned), from October to the +end of January, Uncle served as "beater" to Captain Davenant, when that +veteran went shooting in the New Forest. Returning home, about five, +Uncle liked to wander into Mrs. Yellam's cottage and drink a cup of tea +instead of marching up to the _Pomfret Arms_, where his supremacy as a +talker and man of the world might be disputed by certain bagmen in that +inn, which prided itself upon being "more class" than the _Sir John +Barleycorn_. Fancy paid homage to Uncle, as the favourite brother of +Mrs. Yellam, ministering to his love of creature comforts, making hot +buttered toast and putting cream into his tea, which he never got at +home. Whenever Jane happened to be "miffed" her husband tactically +retreated to what he now termed "Fancy's rest camp." He found her alone +there, because Mrs. Yellam was now on duty at Pomfret Court from two +till seven. Fancy and Uncle would sit by the fire and talk. + +Between Uncle's house and the Yellam cottage stood a clump of firs, near +the river. Each year, during the annual migration, ospreys, probably +southward bound from Scotland, would roost for one night only in these +firs. Uncle had watched them many a time. They would circle three times +round the firs and then alight upon them. Always the young birds, that +year's nestlings, would come first. The parent birds followed, perhaps +two days later. The sense of direction, the triple circling round the +same trees, on the part of young birds, who preceded their parents, +filled Fancy with astonishment. Being urban, she delighted in Uncle's +Arcadian lore. She asked him to explain this amazing performance. + +"Birds be wiser than we, my girl." + +Alfred had made the same remark about water-rats. + +"How do they find their way, Uncle?" + +"Ah-h-h! How does a young hound find his way back to kennels, when he be +taken to a distant meet by train, to new country never seen afore? You +answer me that." + +"I can't. Can you?" + +"I thinks I can. 'Tis fool-wisdom. Wimmenfolk has it, because they be +nearer to the animals than we men." + +Fancy wondered whether this was to be taken as a compliment. Uncle +continued: + +"Fool-wisdom comes from God A'mighty. We be told that He don't forget +one sparrer. I never liked sparrers too well, because they interferes +crool wi' the house-martins, pore lil' dears. Yas--God A'mighty guides +they young ospreys. I've a notion that He'd guide us if so be as we +weren't so set on guiding ourselves. That be the main trouble wi' my +dear sister." + +Fancy opened her eyes wide. + +"What are you saying, Uncle?" + +"I be fool-wise, my girl. I sees that you be mazed. Fool-wisdom be what +we read on in the Holy Book, the sart that God A'mighty gives to babes +and sucklings. My dear sister be full o' man's wisdom, just so clever as +a man can be. She takes credit to herself for every big onion in her +garden." + +Fancy said slily: + +"But, Uncle, you took credit for George getting the Victoria Cross." + +"So I did. A sharp 'un you be, for sartain. 'Tis true. Where would pore +Garge be if I hadn't begotten 'un? And 'twas my brave will as sent 'un +to Salisbury to enlist. But I gives the Lard the credit for pickin' such +a man as I be for Garge's father. And Garge's valorous deed was a +marvellous miracle upsides wi' they young ospreys findin' their way to +our clump o' firs." + +"You ought to be a preacher, Uncle." + +"Ah-h-h! 'Tis easy for me to preach, allers was; but practisin' be the +devil. Me and Pa'son be o' the same mind about that. But how I be +wanderin' from my text! We was talkin' of fool-wisdom and your dear +mother-in-law." + +"She's my mother now." + +"Ay. And I bain't fit to black her boots when it comes to practisin'. I +knows that. But she ain't got fool-wisdom, as I calls it." + +Fancy considered this attentively. Uncle puffed at his pipe, glancing at +Fancy's pensive face. He saw that he had puzzled her, and pulled himself +together for another effort. + +"'Tis like this. Susan be proud because she thinks as she walks wi' God +A'mighty. She takes credit for that, pore soul! Now, I be proud and so +humble as a bee when the Lard sees fit to walk wi' me. That be my +fool-wisdom, Fancy." + +"I see." + +And she did. Uncle's naive remarks were illuminating. She +could look back, by the light of fool-wisdom, and sort out +innumerable, half-forgotten trifles, unconsidered at the time, which +corroborated, almost disconcertingly, this--what could she call it? +Yes--vaingloriousness on the part of Mrs. Yellam. Another word, in +every-day use amongst the "boys," bustled into her mind--"swank." She +smiled. It seemed a wicked word to apply to such a majestic woman, and +yet it was just right. Mrs. Yellam did "swank" whenever she talked of +herself or Alfred. She had won first prize for the best village garden +at the annual Flower Show, discontinued since the outbreak of war, +because, so she told Fancy, she tended her vegetables herself. Alfred's +robust health, his sobriety, his capacity for steady work, his +churchgoing, his pleasant manners with neighbours--all these were +feathers in Mrs. Yellam's cap, placed there by herself! She was set on +guiding herself and others, admittedly a leader. Uncle was right. His +dear sister did not walk humbly with the Lord. Hamlin's sermon had not +been forgotten by Fancy. His son's death had made it an imperishable +memory. And Mrs. Yellam, it will be recalled, had shrewdly suspected +that the Parson had aimed a shaft or two at her. Had he? Could it be +possible that this wonderful old woman's soul was lean? Naturally Fancy +shrank from such a conclusion. + +To lighten her mind, and with the intention of extracting more +fool-wisdom from Uncle, she said mischievously: + +"Uncle----?" + +"Yas, my dear----?" + +"What takes a man to the ale-house? Fool-wisdom?" + +Uncle threw back his handsome head and roared with laughter. But +fool-wisdom told him that this was the right way to tackle a backslider. +What a pity that Jane disdained indirect methods! He shook a long +forefinger in a smiling face. + +"You lil' besom----! Now, if Alferd ever takes a notion to drink more +ale than be strictly needful to slake a pleasant thirst, you poke just +such fun at 'un, and smile at 'un, as you be smilin' at an old sinner +this minute. My wife be a good, faithful 'ooman, but vartue wi' her be +turned sourish, like that there clarety wine, the only liquor as never +did lie easy on my good stomach. Maybe I married her latish in life. And +cooks, from stewin' over fire, do seem to overbake their livers and +lights. Anyways, hard looks drive a man to ale-house; smiles keep 'un at +home. I admits to you, Fancy, but never a word to Jane, mind 'ee, that +ale be my weakness. 'Twould be blasphemious to say that the Lard ever +walked wi' me _to_ an ale-house, except on one very notable occasion, +but 'tis a fact that in His Marcy He have walked wi' me _from_ the _Sir +John Barleycorn_. And now you has it." + +"Tell me about the notable exception." + +"Ah-h-h! You knows. The Lard walked wi' me when I downscrambled Willum +Saint. I gives He the credit. He put the notion into my head o' flingin' +Willum's ale into Willum's face, and bashin' 'un wi' his own tankard. I +tell 'ee that notion come to me bang from Kingdom Come. My own notion +was different. I calkilated on a stand-up fight. Willum might ha' downed +me, being so young and strong a man. And I tells 'ee more, a lil' +secret, seein' as you has the trick o' squeezin' secrets out o' sinners: +the Lard walks wi' me when I comes here to see you. And I be drinkin' +less ale in consekence." + +With that he kissed Fancy and took his leave. + +Solomon jumped into the warm, cushioned arm-chair. But, instead of +curling himself up, he walked three times round the chair, and then sat +up, with his head on one side glancing interrogatively at Fancy, as much +as to say: + +"If you want fool-wisdom, why not tap it at its source?" + +Fancy eyed him reflectively. All day, the dog had behaved strangely. He +never left Fancy for a moment. But, till now, he had seemed disinclined +for conversation. And he had hardly touched his dinner. Again and again +he had walked round the kitchen, whining a little. Fancy, supposing that +he wished to go outside, had opened the door, but he remained with her, +staring up at her, as if he had some message to deliver. Finally, she +jumped to the conclusion that the dog must be feeling unwell, or, +possibly, cats lay heavy on his conscience. + +"What is it, Solomon?" + +He whined. + +"Got a pain, Solly?" + +He regarded her sorrowfully. Till that moment Fancy had been happy and +light-hearted. Uncle had cheered her up. And his parting remark was +uplifting and unmistakable. God had seen fit to use her, Fancy Yellam, +as a humble instrument whereby Uncle's thirst for ale became less +importunate. A warm glow suffused her small body. + +And now, suddenly, she felt chilled, uneasy, unhappy, merely because a +dog gazed mournfully at her, as if he, the wicked little sinner, were +grieving for her. Did he know that pain was coming to her inexorably? As +the thought assailed her mind, so swiftly that she winced, Solomon's +tail flickered. Not in joyousness. She divined that. In some uncanny +fashion he was encouraging her to accept this thought of pain, to +confront it valiantly, not to shrink from it. + +"Do you know, Sol?" she whispered. + +His tail flickered again. He leaped into her lap, and laid his head upon +her bosom. She could feel his heart beating; her own heart beat with it. + +Was this another amazing proof of fool-wisdom? + +Peace came back to her. Humbly, she committed herself to the keeping of +Omnipotence, thinking intently of her mother. Solomon never moved. She +was intimately sensible that this dumb creature comforted her. She +glanced into the shadows of the kitchen. Had her mother's face and +figure formed themselves out of those shadows, she would not have been +surprised or frightened. She expected to see her. The conviction stole +slowly upon her that the mother stood near her, invisible, but a +powerful protector. And from her would radiate hope and faith and love. +She would be with her in her travailings.... + +Presently, another thought stole upon her. As Mrs. Yellam said, Fancy +had never seen her mother in the flesh. It seemed so cruel that she +should have been taken at a moment when tiny lips were wailing for what +she alone could give. From a child she had wanted her mother. To-night, +for the first time, it flashed into her mind that, perhaps, her mother +had wanted her--desperately. Just as she wanted her child. How bitter a +disappointment it must be to forego the tender ministrations, the sweet +services which only women know, and which, in their fool-wisdom, they +count dearer than anything the world can bestow. + +If--if anything went wrong, she would join her mother.... + +Solomon lay motionless, but his heart went on throbbing. + +Why? + +A last thought, the greatest, seemed to float direct from her mother's +mind to hers. Alfred was facing death, daily, with a laugh, facing, too, +the possibility of grinding pain. As a soldier's wife, she must try to +be brave, like him.... + +Solomon moved restlessly, and then sprang to the floor. He wagged his +tail briskly, as he took up a commanding position near the door. Mrs. +Yellam was approaching the cottage. If Fancy opened the door and looked +out, she would not see her because it was dark. But she would not hear +her, either. And if she called, Mrs. Yellam would not answer, being, as +yet, too far away. + +But Solomon knew. + +Within five minutes, Susan Yellam entered, bringing with her an +exhilarating atmosphere of keen, fresh air. Her cheeks were red; her +eyes sparkled. + +"Frost be coming, and maybe snow. I likes to see God A'mighty's world +white and clean come Christmastide." + +The old woman bustled about cheerfully, commanding Fancy to sit still. +She had brought with her a fat hen-pheasant, a gift from the Squire to +Alfred's wife. + +"Folks are very kind," said Fancy. + +"Ah, well, 'tis easy to be kind when we be happy. Captain Pomfret walked +wi' one crutch to-day. And they be drinking champagne for dinner. 'Tis +the work o' that Lunnon doctor, so they say, a very wonnerful chap wi' +electrics, bridlin' the lightnin', so to speak. And they perfarms +miracles wi' men's faces, manufacturin' noses and what-not just so easy +as pats o' butter. Such fellers must be proud o' theirselves." + +"Maybe Mr. Hamlin'll return thanks in church, next Sunday." + +"More'n likely. I never thought o' that." + +"I wonder," said Fancy, "how it all comes to them, inventions, such as +wireless and--and chloroform as takes away pain." + +Mrs. Yellam chided her, very pleasantly: + +"Now, don't 'ee flustrate yourself wi' thoughts o' chloryform. I allows +that I can answer your question. Inventions comes to they as works hard +for 'un. 'Tis hard work, and nothing else." + +"Uncle would call it--fool-wisdom." + +"Fool-wisdom?" + +Fancy explained. Mrs. Yellam listened attentively, shaking her head from +time to time. Uncle's position, to-day, would be as financially sound as +her own, had he worked hard at his calling, and spent less time on +crack-brained speculations and less good money on ale. She said as much, +derisively. Fancy said: + +"How does Solly know when you turn the corner by the mill?" + +"Dog's instinct." + +"Maybe 'tis the same thing." + +"Fiddle!" + +Fancy refrained from pressing the point, but something told her that +Uncle was right, and his clever, practical sister wrong. One thing was +delightfully certain. Happiness had made Mrs. Yellam kind. And it filled +her with piety. She walked proudly with the Lord, carrying a high head. +She had forgiven William Saint his trespasses, and expressed a trenchant +conviction that Satan had removed his headquarters from +Nether-Applewhite to Ocknell. And she was equally sure that Alfred would +be home for Christmas, because her troubles had come in battalions at +midsummer. + +"Turn and turn about be only fair," she told Fancy. + +Fancy said hesitatingly: + +"The cards told true before, didn't they?" + +"Ah-h-h! I don't pin my faith to they, child. I be weather-wise, not +fool-wise. We has spells o' wet and spells o' dry. It be dry now, and +likely to remain so, I reckons." + +Fancy nodded, quite willing to believe that the Yellam barometer would +stay, for a long spell, at "Set Fair." + +After supper, when the kitchen was in perfect order, Mrs. Yellam sat +knitting beside Fancy. Solomon lay at the feet of his mistress. The logs +burned briskly, another evidence of coming frost. Sparks burst out of +them, dazzling scintillations, miniature fireworks. Mrs. Yellam was +impressed by this pyrotechnic display. + +"It minds me of when Master Lionel come of age. I hopes they logs'll +burn like that when Alferd is sittin' here, wi' a baby on his knee." + +Mrs. Yellam appeared so satisfied with life in general that Fancy +hesitated to disturb the peace, but impulse was too strong for her. + +"Solly acted very queer all day." + +"Did he now?" + +"Hardly touched his nice dinner." + +"Well, well, times he takes a notion to scrummage in dustheaps, the lil' +scavenger! 'Tis the male in him, I reckons. And far-seein'. He do take a +squint into the future, seemin'ly." + +Fancy stared at Mrs. Yellam, slightly startled. + +"He buries bones and beastliness all over my garden. I caught 'un wi' a +cod's head, and cuffed his, I did." + +"I took the notion that he was worrying about--about me." + +"Did 'ee, now? Natural enough. You bide so ca'm as I be. Worry brings +peevish children into this world. You sing a hymn, if you think it'll +hearten you up. 'Onward, Christian Soldiers,' be my fav'rite." + +"I do love 'Abide with Me.'" + +"You sing what you've a mind to. You be near your time, and must please +yourself. Singin' helped me, but it druv my pore man to the ale-house. +So I quit hymns, for his sake." + +"Was Mr. Yellam with you when your first baby was born?" + +"My, no! What a queer lil' thing you be! He was carrier, wi' business to +attend to. Men bain't wanted at such times." + +"I should like to have Alfred." + +"No, you wouldn't. Take that from me. I've a mind to give 'ee a sip o' +currant wine." + +Fancy declined this, with many thanks. The talk became desultory, and +died down. Fancy dozed off quietly. Mrs. Yellam laid down her knitting +and gazed keenly at the pale face bent upon the thin bosom. _Spindlin'!_ +Her own word came back to her. She saw that a faint smile curved the +girl's lips. Evidently she was dreaming happily. Of what? Solomon rose, +stretched himself, and stood beside his mistress. He whined a little. +Mrs. Yellam recalled what Fancy had said about his "acting queer." + +"She bain't too strong," she muttered. + +Solomon whined again and lay down. + +Mrs. Yellam's face hardened. The same thought that had assailed Fancy +attacked her, burying fangs in her heart. + +If things went wrong----? + +Resolutely, she put this thought from her. God's ways might be +mysterious, but surely, surely He would stand by this frail creature, +and temper the wind to her. Even to ask Him to do so seemed impertinent. +Prayer came to her lips and fluttered away. She closed them tightly. All +would go well, because of those four graves in the churchyard. She had +visited them on the previous Sunday. They were certainly a credit to +her. She washed the marble cross upon Lizzie's grave twice a year, and +planted flowers on each plot. Coming out of church, strangers would +pause to look at the Yellam reservation. If they read the +carefully-selected inscriptions, Mrs. Yellam would feel much uplifted. +In her square, brass-cornered desk, lay a sealed paper containing +instructions concerning her own funeral. A plain slab would tell other +strangers the date of her birth and death, her name, and her +destination. "Gone Home" was to be chiselled upon grey granite, and +filled in with leaded letters. Death had never dismayed her. When her +work was done, she would be called. + +Fancy woke up, still smiling. + +"You had a nice doze, dear. Pleasant dreams, too." + +"Yes," said Fancy. But she couldn't remember her dreams. + +As she got out of her chair to go upstairs, she said: + +"This has been a happy day, Mother. I must remember it. What is the day +of the month?" + +Mrs. Yellam answered promptly: + +"It be the fifteenth of December. Only ten days to Christmas." + +Mrs. Yellam never forgot this date. Word came to her some days later. On +the fifteenth of December, a night attack was made upon German trenches, +an affair of small importance, not even mentioned in the papers. When +the men returned to their dug-outs, Sergeant Yellam was +reported--_Missing_. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +MISSING! + + +Everybody assured Mrs. Yellam that Alfred had been taken prisoner. Uncle +was doubtful whether any nephew of his could be taken prisoner, but he +did not say this before his sister. The Squire, good fellow, spent time +and money over telegrams to the Colonel commanding Alfred's battalion. +And the answer confirmed popular opinion that Alfred, by now, was in +Germany, where prisoners of war--so Sir Geoffrey assured Mrs. Yellam, +received more humane treatment. The dead and wounded, after the night +attack, had been brought in. Alfred was not amongst them. And therefore +a prisoner. His Colonel, without a word from Sir Geoffrey, expressed +that as his positive belief. + +Fancy, very white and anxious, hugged such belief to her small bosom. +She said to Mrs. Yellam: + +"Alfred will come back." + +Mrs. Yellam kissed her, muttering: + +"Yes, yes. You be a brave lil' 'ooman." + +But Susan Yellam was dissembling. Iron had entered her soul again, iron +and ice. To Uncle and Solomon she admitted this. + +"He be dead, Habakkuk. I knows it. They Proosians 'd never take Alferd +alive. He be dead, and so be I." + +Poor Uncle fell back upon fool-wisdom. + +"Now, Susan, in these high matters, the truth be revealed to simple +minds, like Fancy's. Me and you, dear, be too clever. I've often thought +that gert brains, like yours, be a crool burden in such times as these. +You be too far-seein'. Fancy be wise as a bird. If she sticks to it as +Alferd be comin' back, come back he will, whatever you thinks." + +But Mrs. Yellam refused to be comforted. + +Next Sunday her pew was empty. Many charitably assigned this to Fancy's +condition. Hamlin and Uncle knew better. And they took counsel together. + +"Can anything be said or done, Uncle?" asked the Parson. + +Uncle answered wisely: + +"She be past man's help, sir. Me and you has seen this a-comin' from +afar. The pore soul can guide herself so well as any 'ooman I knows, but +she do hate to be guided. Allers, she walked wi' the Lard in health, but +not in sickness. 'Tis wondersome, but it works t'other way about wi' me. +In health I seems to wander from the Lard, do what I will." + +"I tried once before--and failed." + +"Ah-h-h! You be a faithful shepherd, Mr. Hamlin; we all knows that. If +you ask my advice, sir----" + +"I do. I do." + +"Leave her in the Lard's Hands. None can deny that she be a faithful +servant o' His. He'll take pity on the pore dear in His good time." + +Hamlin seldom asked for advice from his fellow-men. He nodded his head, +shook Uncle's horny hand, and went back to his study. + +The great sacrifice demanded of him had strained his faith. Nobody would +ever know that. For a few hours he had sat alone, stunned by sorrow. He +told himself fiercely that he could have spared any one of his sons +except Teddy. The worldly ambitions which this man had renounced for +himself bloomed more vigorously for Teddy. He had all the qualities +which carry a young man far on any road: robust health, excellent +brains, untiring energy, and a kind heart. His jolly laugh, as Hamlin +knew, had secured him advancement, quite apart from his ability. Others +had ability. The happy combination of laughter and energy had fetched +four hundred a year in the open market. And Hamlin knew, none better, +what such men are worth to the world, what a stimulus a cheery word and +smile may be to the weary and sad. Why had Teddy been taken? + +Ultimately, he answered that question. + +He must be wanted elsewhere. Hamlin held definite opinions about a +future life. He believed that death involved little change. He believed, +further, that the conflict between good and evil went on upon the Other +Side, that souls expanded or diminished over there just as here. Upon +that belief he had built up his philosophy of life. It explained and +justified apparent injustices and inequalities very perplexing to him as +a young man. He believed, also, that good or evil inspired all human +endeavour. The clay was informed by the spirit. Great writers, +influencing millions, were merely the mouthpiece, the megaphone, of +invisible spirits, guardian angels, to use the homely nursery +expression, who whispered their message to the vessel appointed to +receive it. Nobody, for many years, had heard him praise +enthusiastically an individual. He praised the work that each had been +inspired to do. In Nether-Applewhite, there happened to be a village +idiot, whose great lolling head and vacuous eyes excited terror in +children and often revulsion in adults. And the man was past middle age, +helpless and gibbering from birth. Hamlin never passed him without +reflecting that death would release an imprisoned soul destined, +perhaps, to an undreamed-of development hereafter, the greater because +it had been denied expression on earth. And, inversely, when he met, as +he did occasionally, men pre-eminent in science, or art, or industry, he +seemed to see clearly the man standing sharply apart from his work, +often a very ordinary person, undistinguished save for the amazing fact +that he had been selected, out of millions, to accomplish something +vital to the progress of the world. + +He had found Authority for this personal belief in the New Testament. + +Hamlin sat still by his fire and thought of Mrs. Yellam. He desired to +help her with an intensity which few would have suspected. Her empty +pew, as before, stood out in his mind as a vacuum which he abhorred. Not +because he was a parson. Churchgoing, in one sense, the sense in which +William Saint regarded it, touched his humour. To go to church because +it was respectable and pleased the Squire, to mumble prayers, to +preserve a smug deportment, and rattle coins into an offertory plate, +approximated closely to comic opera! Mrs. Yellam attended church to +worship her Maker. Her abstention from Divine Service indicated loss of +faith, the most grievous loss that can be imposed upon human beings. +Faith filled Mrs. Yellam's pew; faithlessness emptied it. And if she, +the strong woman, the helper in so many good works, stayed away from +God's House, what would be the effect on the faith of others who looked +up to her as a pattern and example? + +His fighting instincts were strongly stirred. But Uncle was right. For +the moment, Susan Yellam stood alone, beyond man's help. + +He went to see her as a friend. As before, she received him with perfect +self-possession, answered his questions quietly, and assured him that +her own health caused her no anxiety. Hamlin thought of a chapel +standing by itself upon a high hill near Abbotsbury, in perfect +condition without, stripped within, an empty and deserted temple. +Presently Fancy came in, and Mrs. Yellam went out. After the first +greeting, Fancy exclaimed eagerly: + +"I know that Alfred will come back. I feel it here." + +She touched her bosom. + +He perceived, with poignant regret, the ravages wrought by suspense. But +this, he soon discovered, was not due to apprehension concerning +herself. She was worrying because Alfred would not get enough to eat. +She talked confidently of his escape from bondage. Alfred was a man of +resource, quick to seize opportunity. Dozens had got through to Holland. +Why not he? + +Then she spoke of the war. What did it all mean, this never-ending +slaughter? Was God angry with the world? + +Hamlin felt more at ease with this softer specimen of womanhood, who had +served him faithfully. He admitted frankly, despite the evidence of the +Old Testament, that he could not conceive of Omnipotence as "angry." +Then he appealed to her imagination, evoking out of his own hopes and +hypotheses a new world of nations, linked together by a nobler and wider +humanity, poorer in material things, richer in faith and charity. He +sketched for her prehistoric man concerned only with self-preservation. +He passed from this ape-man to his successor informed by love of his own +family. From him again to the chief concerned with the welfare of his +tribe. And thence to the monarch and his nation. + +"We must come, sooner or later, to Universal Brotherhood. That, I think, +Fancy, may come sooner because of this war. The gain to those who are +not yet born may be ten thousand times greater than our loss." + +Her pale cheeks flushed. + +"I'd like to think that." She paused, adding modestly: "Although my +thoughts don't matter." + +"But they do," he hastened to say. "This war is forcing people to think, +who have never thought before. Perhaps we preachers and teachers have +been unwise in asking others to accept our thoughts, instead of +encouraging them to think for themselves. Don't be afraid of thinking +things out. And when it comes to matters of religion, of faith...." + +He paused, trying to find simple words, struck by the intensity of her +glance, knowing that what he might say would be pondered over by a quick +intelligence. + +"Yes, sir----?" + +"There would seem to be two kinds of faith, Fancy; the faith that falls +like the dew from heaven upon some little children, a free gift from +God; and the faith which we have to work for, and suffer for, and fight +for with every fibre of our being. I have had to work for my faith; I +have had to dig down and down till I came at last to some rock upon +which I could stand. I could hardly bear the cruelty of these times, if +I had not found that rock." + +"What is that rock, sir?" + +"A conviction that this life is only a part, a small part of a +tremendous whole which our finite minds are unable to grasp. That +conviction comes from experience. It is independent of what is called +revealed religion, although it has been revealed by all religions, +inasmuch as it must come from within to be of any real value and +comfort. It must be worked for, as I say, and paid for. The reward, when +that rock is reached, is very great." + +"What is it, sir?" + +"The peace that passes understanding. And now, Fancy, in the trial that +awaits you, trust in that first faith of which I spoke, the faith that I +am sure is yours. God knows what is best for us. We all try to make Him +walk in our ways, instead of walking humbly in His." + +She said shyly: "Thank you, sir; you have made things easier for me." + +It was late when Hamlin left the Yellam cottage and bitterly cold. He +walked to Pomfret Court, and found the Squire in his room. In that room +hard words had passed between Squire and Parson. To-day they were +friends, working together. And the marriage of their children did not +adequately account for this. It was one of the unexpected results of the +war. + +"Dinner in five-and-twenty minutes," said Sir Geoffrey. "I'm delighted to +see you, my dear fellow." + +"I wish I could stop. I need your help." + +The Squire rang the bell. When the butler came, dinner was postponed a +quarter of an hour. Another straw to indicate a change in domestic +currents. Before the war, dinner at Pomfret Court had been regarded as a +sacred function, never postponed merely because the Parson wanted a word +with the Squire. + +"I want you to pull more strings," said Hamlin, after telling his story +at some length. "You know swells at the Foreign Office. It must be +possible to find out through some kind neutral at The Hague whether a +prisoner of the name of Alfred Yellam was taken upon the night of the +fifteenth. Very few prisoners have been taken lately; that would make +the enquiry comparatively simple." + +"I'll draw that cover to-morrow morning." + +Hamlin thanked him and hurried away. The Squire was amazing. To travel +to London in this bitter weather meant the sacrifice of what the genial +Autocrat ranked high--comfort. He would go, like a terrier to a fox, +straight to a Mandarin and bark at him, worry him, stick to him, till a +pledge was extracted. + +He thought of the trains congested by Christmas travel, the lack of +porters and taxis. Obviously, the Squire recked nothing of this in his +hot desire to do a kind turn to a humble neighbour. + +Hamlin reflected that Christmas would be the cosier to the Autocrat +after a cold excursion. He remembered hearing him say that he never +appreciated his own fireside so much as after a bad day's hunting, when +the wind blew chill from the north and hounds wouldn't run a yard. + +Thoughts of hunting distracted the Parson as he strode back to his +lonely Vicarage. What a master passion it was in everybody! The Squire +hunted foxes in all weathers, regardless of weather conditions. Nothing +stopped him but a hard frost. His Parson hunted men and women, a more +arduous chase, hounding them out of covers where dirt, ignorance, +poverty and vice hid them from view. A hard frost, such as had settled +on Susan Yellam, stopped him. Others hunted fame, money, position, just +as ardently. And a hard frost, like this war, stopped them. + +When would the thaw set in for Mrs. Yellam? + +Upon Christmas Eve Fancy's ordeal began. + +Hamlin hoped and believed that tiny hands would melt the ice in an old +woman's heart. Everybody knew that Susan Yellam loved children, and that +her rather grim face inspired no terrors in them. She kept the large +green bottle full of bull's-eyes, simply because it lured pattering feet +to her door. If they trotted up too often, rebukes, not bull's-eyes, +were forthcoming. A sure way to her favour, as little girls soon +discovered, was to ask for a flower out of the garden. Farseeing women, +over-busy on washing-days, popped torn pinafores onto their toddlers, +knowing that Mrs. Yellam would be sure to take her needle and repair the +damage. She could always be called upon to sit up with a sick child, +provided--_bien entendu_--that she was permitted to administer her own +simple medicines. Grateful mothers, with an eye upon further favours, +would say to Mrs. Yellam in the presence of neighbours: + +"Susan Yellam saved my Daisy's life." + +And then Mrs. Yellam would nod majestically, accepting such artful +homage as her just due. + +To Mrs. Yellam's great relief, Fancy suffered less than she had feared +and expected. Nature was kind to this soft-boned little woman, and +chloroform assuaged the fiercer pangs. But the baby seemed loath to +enter so cold a world. There were long and exasperating intermittencies, +which Fancy endured very patiently. Throughout these periods, when Fancy +wished to talk about Alfred, Mrs. Yellam dissembled. She even went so +far, in her eagerness to please and distract the patient, that she +accepted the sex of the tardy infant, speaking of it as "him," to +Fancy's great gratification. + +Finally, "He" was born at two o'clock upon Christmas Day. + +And, alack! the cards had not told true. _He_ was a _She_. + +Fancy did not know this for some time. Too exhausted to ask questions, +she lay silent and still, a faint smile upon her white face, till she +dozed off into a dreamless sleep. + +In the parlour downstairs, where a fire had been lighted in the doctor's +honour, Mrs. Yellam received another blow. There had been no +complications in the case; the baby was perfectly formed and normal in +every way. Nevertheless, the doctor looked worried and refused such +refreshment as had been provided. Obviously, too, he was in a hurry to +be gone, but he lingered. + +"She is very weak," he said, in a low, impressive voice. + +"That's natural." + +"Keep her as quiet as possible. I shall return about ten. The nurse has +my instructions. Great lack of vitality is indicated. Needless to say, +there is no question of her nursing the child. You are a strong, +sensible woman, Mrs. Yellam, and able to hide any anxiety you may feel +from the patient." + +The poor heart, just beginning to thaw, felt an icy hand closing about +it. + +"I know how to behave," she muttered. + +"I must prepare you for a possible change--not for the better." + +"Yes." + +She spoke so calmly, that the doctor glanced at her keenly. Was she +indifferent? It might be so. Relations, as he well knew, were often +strained between elderly women of strong character and their sons' +wives. He knew that Alfred had been reported missing. The monthly nurse +might be regarded as a professional, like himself, willing and able to +do her duty. More than this might be required. He reflected swiftly that +he must make the situation even plainer to this somewhat hard-faced, +hard-eyed woman. + +"She might sink from anaemia, Mrs. Yellam." + +"I understand, sir." + +He slipped on his heavy coat, picked up hat and gloves and turned to +leave the room. His motor was gently purring outside. Mrs. Yellam prided +herself upon her manners. But she never moved to open the door, till the +doctor had his hand upon it. + +"Sir----?" + +"Yes?" + +She approached him. Her face remained calm, but he saw that her strong, +capable hands were twitching. Her voice, too, quavered a little. + +"She be very dear to me, so dear that I be ready to fight for her life +harder than I would for my own. That's all." + +The doctor, ashamed of too hasty conclusions, took both her hands in +his. + +"That is much," he said gravely; "and it may make all the difference. +Good-night, Mrs. Yellam." + +"Good-morning, sir," she admonished him. + +Left alone, she sat down, palsied by despair. + +And this was Christmas Day! + +Upon the table, near the window, the big Bible caught her eye. She +stared at it, thinking of the page upon which, soon, she might be called +upon to make three entries--two deaths and one birth. Heavy +antimacassars embellished the horsehair-covered sofa and the armchairs. +Mrs. Yellam rose up, snatched three antimacassars from their +abiding-place and covered the Bible with them. Then she sat down again, +looking about her, glaring at the familiar objects, so eloquent of the +past. Upon each side of a large mirror, with its gilt frame protected by +muslin from flies that had never dared to enter the room, hung two +enlarged photographs of herself and her husband, taken some +five-and-twenty years ago. They seemed to stare unblushingly and +aggressively at her, as if they were rude strangers overbrimming with +self-importance, smug with prosperity. + +"Fools," said Mrs. Yellam, scornfully. + +She looked at the other photographs, each in turn, portraits of the +children who lay in the churchyard. + +"You be the lucky ones," she said, in the same derisive tone. + +There were many photographs of Alfred in all stages of development: +Alfred sucking his thumb with an expression upon his year-old +countenance as if he were thinking regretfully of something more +nourishing; Alfred in a much be-ribanded frock; Alfred in +knickerbockers; Alfred in a kilt; Alfred in trowsers, evidently on good +terms with himself and all the world; Alfred as he appeared in his +Sunday best, about to take the air with an audacious parlourmaid; and, +lastly, Alfred in khaki and Fancy, arm in crook. + +She glanced hastily at other photographs, of Sir Geoffrey and Lady +Pomfret and Master Lionel. They smiled so pleasantly that she frowned. +How dared they smile? + +She was not needed yet upstairs. So she sat on in the gate of her +sorrows, alone in the valley of Achor. + +She heard Solomon scratching at the door. She had left him asleep in his +basket, always placed each night by the kitchen hearth. Mrs. Yellam let +the dog scratch, but when he began whining she let him in, because Fancy +might be disturbed, not because she wanted her dog. + +Solomon looked at her, and knew. + +He governed himself accordingly. Mrs. Yellam had returned to her chair. +Solomon lay down at her feet. When she wanted to talk to him, she would +do so. He kept one ear cocked for the first word. + +During twenty minutes no word was said. The nurse was in charge of Fancy +and the baby. Mrs. Yellam had looked forward to assisting at these first +rites. The expected pleasure had turned into a grinding pain. + +Fancy was going, drifting out of life. Probably her baby would not +survive her many days. But she, the old woman, would remain. She gazed +down the long perspective of the years to come, cold, dull days without +one gleam of sunshine, full of inevitable pain. + +"I can't bear it," she said aloud. "It be too much for me." + +Solomon heard. He knew, of course, that the long-awaited words were not +addressed to him, but they sounded a clarion note of distress. + +He laid his head against her knee. + +She looked at him, meeting his clear young eyes. They seemed to be full +of interrogation. + +"If you want to talk, why not talk to me instead of to yourself?" + +She patted his head, and let her hand rest upon it. According to Uncle, +fool-wisdom in dogs warned them of impending disaster. Mrs. Yellam knew +that Solomon had behaved strangely upon the fifteenth of December. Uncle +had drawn conclusions from this which he shared with Fancy and his +sister. If fool-wisdom on the part of dogs could be interpreted by man, +and he held that he was the man to do it, why, then, the fact of Solomon +acting "queer" during the day of the fifteenth surely indicated +fore-knowledge of Alfred's danger. But the attack had taken place at +night. And the dog had exhibited no "queerness" after sundown. Fancy had +been much impressed. In his heart, however, Uncle could not envisage +Alfred as a prisoner. And we know that Mrs. Yellam shared this view. At +the same time, with her loss of faith in the mercy of Omnipotence, and +filling the vacuum which Hamlin so abhorred, came the old craving to +clutch at "signs." It is quite likely that if the cards had "told true," +and if a boy were now lying in the cradle upstairs, that Mrs. Yellam +would have fought despair more valiantly. She might have persuaded +herself that Fancy would "pull through" and that Alfred would come back. + +At this moment she was at a low ebb mentally, although physically able +to confront any emergency. Despair destroys _morale_, as soldiers know, +and, paralysing action, heightens sensation. Mrs. Yellam's overwrought +brain refused to function normally. + +Solomon, she reflected, was not acting "queer." + +If Uncle were right----! If fool-wisdom could be trusted----! + +She asked Solomon a question. + +"How be you feeling, my dog?" + +Solomon left her tired mind in no doubt on that point. He wagged his +tail, wriggling convulsively, ready to bark with any encouragement. + +"Shush-h-h! Don't 'ee bark, till I gives leave. What do 'ee think about +Fancy? Be she so bad as Doctor makes out?" + +Solomon tried to lick her hand. + +"That bain't an answer, Solly." + +He wagged his tail. + +Astounding as it may seem, this comforted Mrs. Yellam. She went +upstairs, peeped into her former room, perceived that Fancy was asleep, +and said to the nurse: + +"She be in a be-utiful sleep. Let's see the baby." + +The two women looked at the baby, and agreed that it was a fine +specimen. Mrs. Yellam said impressively: + +"Pore dear soul! She thinks it a He. Maybe 'twill be best not to +undeceive her." + +"She'll find out, Mrs. Yellam." + +"Ah-h-h! A crool shock. I allows that it be my duty to prepare her." + +"She's low," said the nurse, in a professional tone. Mrs. Yellam knew +that the doctor, before leaving, had given the nurse instructions. The +nurse, however, made light of apprehension, saying incisively: + +"We'll pull her through, Mrs. Yellam. Nothing needed but constant care +for the first few days. Doctors always scare the gizzards out of us +because they think that we won't be careful unless they do." + +This was comforting. After more talk, Mrs. Yellam prevailed upon the +nurse to lie down. She proposed to sit by Fancy. The baby could be +trusted to be quiet, being a She, and, seemingly, blessed with a +pleasant temper. + +Fancy still slept. + +Mrs. Yellam took the chair by the bedside. If nothing but care and +vigilance were needed, they should be forthcoming. She vowed to herself +that she would fight, tooth and nail, for this life, neglect no +precaution, run no risk. Physically, she braced herself for the combat. +Long ago, she had fought for the life of a child--and won! Doctor and +mother had despaired. It was a case of pneumonia. Hour after hour Mrs. +Yellam had applied hot cloths to the child's breast. And she had willed +fiercely that the child should live. Her strong will _had_ saved it. +Everybody admitted that, even the doctor. + +Fancy slept for some hours. She awoke refreshed, free from pain, but +pitifully feeble. After obediently swallowing some food, she asked to +see the "boy." + +"All in good time," said Mrs. Yellam blandly. + +"But I may drop off to sleep again." + +"And a very good thing, too. The baby is asleep." + +"Has he blue eyes?" + +"Baby's eyes be allers blue at first." + +"Is he like Alfred?" + +"The living image. Now, don't 'ee talk." + +"If you bring him to me, I'll be ever so quiet." + +"I'll bring the child directly minute. 'Tis a lil' beauty, and a real +credit to 'ee. Alferd'll be tickled to death. Unbeknownst to yourself, +dear, you bore him what he wanted, and what I wanted. Now, I'll bring +her in." + +"Her----!" + +Fancy closed her eyes. Mrs. Yellam watched her anxiously. She saw two +tears trickle down the disappointed mother's cheeks. But she was +smiling, quick to see the joke against herself. + +She gave a little laugh, an attenuated sound, but the genuine article. + +"Let's see her, Mother." + +The Beauty was brought in. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +SUSPENSE + + +Sir Geoffrey returned home on Saturday, the 23rd, having achieved his +purpose. From The Hague, within twenty-four hours, discreet enquiries +would be made concerning Sergeant Yellam. But the answer might be +delayed a week. + +On Sunday and on Christmas Day Mrs. Yellam's pew was empty, but +everybody knew that she was in attendance upon Fancy. + +Hamlin preached what Uncle called a "very upliftin'" discourse, and +Uncle made it his business to drop down to the Yellam cottage during the +afternoon to learn how Fancy fared and to give his sister a synopsis of +the morning's sermon. By the luck of things, the nurse had just got up, +and was able to sit with Fancy, whilst Uncle talked with Susan in the +kitchen. + +"She be low, Habakkuk, but I be fighting for her. Oh, me! there's so +little of her. And no milk for the baby." + +"Lard preserve her dear life!" + +Susan frowned. + +"'Tis milk that be wanted." + +"You be right. Bottle-babies suffer crool wi' colic." + +"Not if I wash the bottles. Fancy have chosen the names." + +"Ah-h-h! Susan be one of 'em; I'll lay a crown-piece on that." + +"You'd lose your money. Lizzie Alfreda be the name." + +Uncle considered this, and commended the choice. Then he squared his +shoulders and inflated his big chest. + +"You missed a rare treat this marning, Susan." + +"Did I?" + +She spoke with indifference. Uncle believed in "gentling" refractory +horses and women. Conviction had descended upon him during the sermon +that he might be the Lord's instrument to lead Susan Yellam back to her +pew. + +"Pa'son preached about the Babe of Bethlehem, as was right and proper, +but I makes bold to say as he was thinking of 'ee, Susan, and of Lizzie +Alfreda, bless 'un." + +Mrs. Yellam felt strangely bored. But she knew that it was hopeless to +try to stop Uncle. What did it matter what any parson said? She was +wondering whether she could apply for milk to Mr. Fishpingle, at the +Home Farm. Village cows, grazing by the roadside, might pick up any +noxious weed. + +Uncle continued solemnly: + +"Me and Pa'son sees eye to eye about babes. And times, when he do drop +out o' sky and walks the green earth with mortial men, I feel sure that +fool-wisdom be his as 'tis mine. We sucked 'un in wi' mother's milk." + +Susan said abruptly: + +"I've a notion, Habakkuk, that the milk from they Freesian-Holsteen cows +bain't too rich for a baby's stomach." + +Uncle stared at her, anxiously. With difficulty, he assimilated her +thoughts, abandoning, for the moment, his own. + +"Quantity they gives, Susan, not quality. If I was lookin' after lil' +Lizzie Alfreda, dang me, if I wouldn't give 'un pure cream." + +"I'll be bound you would. Or old ale." + +She smiled grimly. Uncle really thought that the thaw had set in. He +continued joyously: + +"You listen to me, Susan; I've an upliftin' message for 'ee, and it +consarns what your thoughts be dwellin' on--the baby upstairs. Pa'son +made that plain this marning to us old sticks. The Babe of Bethlehem +brought good cheer and peace to a wicked world ten thousand years ago, +and the peace o' this world, seemin'ly, lies wi' the little 'uns. And we +be bound to take extry good care o' they. I tell 'ee, Pa'son talked so +warm about babes that I felt it in me to raise another family." + +"On pure cream?" asked Susan. But, at last, he had challenged her +attention. + +"Ah-h-h! You has your joke. But babes be goin' to be our salvation. 'Tis +a brave, true notion. What makes a pack o' hounds, Susan? The young +drafts. If they be lackin' in bone and blood, they turns out skirters, +and presently the pack be streamin' all over country, runnin' riot, +chasin' everything and catchin' nothing. And so, old girl, when you sets +your gert mind on what milk to give lil' Lizzie, you be sarvin' the Lard +and your country." + +Encouraged by Susan's softer expression, Uncle went on, embroidering his +theme with pardonable exaggeration, setting forth prodigious statistics. +Millions of babes died for lack of proper care, millions survived +infancy to become rickety, misformed, wretched children. And the war was +going to change all this. A nation bled white of its men must make the +care of children its first and paramount consideration. When he had +finished, Susan was so impressed that she said commandingly: + +"'Tis true. And your duty be plain, Habakkuk." + +"Meanin', Susan,----?" + +"You step up so brisk as may be to Home Farm. You see Mr. Fishpingle. +You tell 'un that my gran'child needs pure milk, and, if you don't get +it, your powers o' speech bain't what you crack 'em up to be." + +"Come wi' me, Susan. 'Twill blow some cobwebs out of 'ee." + +"No; I sets in this house till----" + +"Till when, you broody old hen?" + +"Till Fancy be better." + +After some protest, Uncle went his way alone, but he whistled as he +strode along, the jolly optimist. Next Sunday he would see Susan in her +pew. Soon there would be a christening, and word would come from Alfred. +Uncle now shared with the Squire the conviction that Alfred, probably +rushing ahead of his men, had been surrounded by Proosians and +overpowered. + +Upon the Tuesday, the Squire received a telegram from London, which he +shewed to his wife: + +"Yellam not a prisoner." + +The telegram was signed by one of the most honoured names in England. + +Lady Pomfret sighed. The Squire fussed and fumed, detesting mystery. + +"What does it mean, Mary? If he isn't a prisoner, where the dooce is he? +I have his Colonel's word for it that all the dead and wounded were +brought in. This telegram is equally reliable. I ask you, where is +Alfred Yellam?" + +"Shell-shock affects some of them very strangely." + +"What d'ye mean by that, my dear?" + +"You remember John Boyce?" + +The Squire was not likely to forget John Boyce, one of the quietest, +gentlest, and pluckiest of the many wounded men who had passed through +Pomfret Court. He had been a sufferer from shell-shock and gas, but +otherwise sound of limb. One morning, as the Squire was lathering his +face, word came to him that John Boyce had gone mad. Without pausing to +remove the lather, wearing pyjamas and slippers, the Squire had rushed +out of his dressing-room, downstairs, and into a corridor, where Boyce +stood at bay, with a valiant V. A. D. in front of him. He had escaped +from the ward, and happened to be close to Lionel's sitting-room. Into +this room the Squire led Boyce, trying to calm him down. The poor fellow +was possessed of suicidal mania. He had lost his chums and his health. +He demanded a rifle and permission to go into the garden and "end it." +It was piteous to hear him. As yet he had exhibited no violence. But in +Lionel's room, where swords were hanging on the wall, Boyce, with his +congested eyes on the naked steel, struggled desperately to get hold of +a sword. The Squire was a very powerful man, and Boyce undersized, but +insanity nearly mastered sanity. Suddenly, Boyce's body relaxed. All +violence went out of him. Soon he went back to the saloon, quite himself +again. Later, he was taken to Netley Hospital, where he recovered +completely. + +Lady Pomfret said slowly: + +"Just between ourselves, Geoffrey, is it possible that poor Alfred, +slightly wounded in the head, perhaps, is wandering somewhere in +France?" + +The Squire opened his mouth. + +"My dear Mary, are you hinting at--desertion?" + +"If he were not himself, like John Boyce?" + +The Squire had to admit that this was possible. Alfred must be +somewhere. Upon him would be his identification-disk. The number of this +had been sent to The Hague. + +"I must see Hamlin." + +He did. Hamlin told him that Fancy was fluttering between life and +death. Under the circumstances, it might be expedient to say nothing +about the telegram. To this the Squire warmly agreed. Nobody knew what +was in the telegram, except Lady Pomfret and themselves. Nobody would +know till Fancy had turned the corner, one way or t'other, poor little +dear! + +Within twenty-four hours all Nether-Applewhite knew. + +Somebody at the telegraph-office must have babbled. + +What followed may be imagined. Dick told Tom, and Tom told Harry, till +verisimilitude--to quote Gilbert--attached itself to an otherwise bald +and unconvincing narrative. Ultimately, the tale reached the ears of +Uncle. Alfred Yellam was a deserter--such a deduction from the telegram +might be considered crude, but on that very account likely to be gobbled +by gaffers--with a price set upon him, alive or dead. King Garge on his +throne knew it. + +Poor Uncle became distraught. If it were true, he could never carry a +high head again. Stoutly he refused to believe it, breathing strange +oaths and threatening violence to all and sundry. If such a wicked lie +reached Fancy's ears, it would kill her. He strode into the forest to +cool himself. Could he face his fellow-men in church? He beheld two +empty pews, and gnashed his teeth. + +Returning from the forest, somewhat easier in mind, he decided that +Susan must be warned. Very wisely he went to Hamlin first, who confirmed +the telegram, agreeing with Uncle that Mrs. Yellam should be told the +truth and what it had been twisted into by wagging tongues. Sensible of +Uncle's excitement and indignation, he said quietly: + +"You must rise above this gossip. It is not unnatural and not +ill-natured." + +"I begs your pardon, sir?" + +"Sir Geoffrey says that Alfred must be somewhere. For my part, I prefer +to think of him in the care, perhaps, of some friendly French peasant, +tending a man who may not remember his own name." + +"That be a mort o' comfort. Twice in my long life, I minds forgetting my +own name. I took a notion that I were the village idiot. Bad ale's +tricksy stuff. But desartion be a tarr'ble word." + +Hamlin clapped him hard on the shoulder. + +"Nobody who knows Alfred, or his mother, or you, would credit such a +monstrous perversion of the truth." + +Uncle, much heartened, betook himself to his sister's cottage, where the +surprise of his life awaited him. Susan literally jumped at this new +hypothesis. She burst into excited speech. + +"If Squire thinks that, 'tis so. Parson be a wonnerful man, but, as you +says, Habakkuk, sky-high above we. Squire be clay, a gert human bein' +wise wi' the wisdom that I understands. If he holds that my Alferd be +wanderin', pore dear, in France, 'tis so. I feels a different 'ooman +to-night. And Fancy be better, too, wi' some sart o' appetite for her +victuals. I be fightin' hard for her life, Habakkuk, and I believes +to-night that all will be well. 'Tis queer, Fancy keeps on a-sayin' to +me: 'Alferd'll come back.'" + +"Maybe he will, maybe he won't. Pa'son be prayin' in church for Alferd. +'Twould seem more respectful-like if you jined in wi' your loud voice." + +At once Mrs. Yellam's face hardened. + +"I bide at home till Alferd comes back." + +"Ah-h-h! You be set as never was on guidin' yourself, Susan. Now, what +about tellin' Fancy?" + +"I tells her the moment you be gone. 'Twill perk her up, better'n +ginger-brandy. And what do I keer what they says in village? Let 'un +talk. Squire be right. Alferd must be somewheres." + +Fancy was told within the hour. It will never be known whether the news +affected her for good or ill. Mrs. Yellam lacked imagination. Fancy, we +may believe, conjured up a lamentable picture of her Alfred, bereft of +his wits, wandering in a strange land, homeless and half-starving, at +the mercy of the elements in mid-winter. But she repeated the main +clause in her creed: + +"Alfred'll come back." + +Napoleon has assured us that repetition is the greatest figure of +rhetoric. The stone is worn away by the ever-falling drop of water. +Fancy's reiterated phrase fell persistently upon the ice in Susan +Yellam's heart and melted some of it, not all. + +Upon the Thursday morning the Squire received a letter from the Colonel +commanding Sergeant Yellam's battalion. He read it to Lady Pomfret. + + "My dear Sir: + + "With deep regret I have to inform you of the death of + Sergeant Alfred Yellam upon the night of the fifteenth of + December. All the facts have come to light, beyond dispute. + One of our wounded men has been lying unconscious in our + receiving hospital. Last night he became conscious. It seems + that Yellam was close to him when a shell from a trench + howitzer burst literally upon poor Yellam. According to the + evidence of the wounded man Yellam disappeared. That was the + last indelible impression of the only witness, who was + struck by a splinter from the same shell, and lost + consciousness immediately afterwards. + + "Sergeant Yellam had earned the affection and confidence of + all ranks. He was the type of man we value most, cool in + danger, modest at all times, cheerful, energetic and + capable. Peace be with him! + + "Yours faithfully, + "Courtenay Tring. + + "P. S.--The official communication will reach Sergeant + Yellam's widow in due course. This letter will precede it, + and I leave it to your discretion what to do." + +"What shall we do?" groaned the Squire. + +Before telling the news to anybody else, Sir Geoffrey walked to the +Vicarage. Hamlin read the letter. + +"Susan Yellam must be told," he said slowly. "She can intercept the +official communication. Such news would kill Fancy." + +"Who will tell Susan?" + +"I will take the letter to her." + +The Squire looked at his face. He wondered why Hamlin was so affected. +The Parson had sat down, as if he had received a personal blow. He +rested his austere face upon his hand, thinking not of the young wife, +so full of faith and courage, but of the old woman. Sir Geoffrey said +impulsively: + +"I wish that you could be spared this, Hamlin." + +"So do I." + +"You might let Jane Mucklow do it, or Uncle." + +"Susan Yellam is my parishioner. God's hand lies heavy on her--how heavy +I am unable to determine. I have never felt, Pomfret, so conscious of my +disabilities, of anaemic faith in such cases as this." + +The Squire stood confounded. + +"I wish I had your faith, Hamlin." + +"What is faith?" asked Hamlin, almost fiercely. "Is it merely a belief +that satisfies and helps oneself? The faith that burned in the Apostles +was more than that. It saved others. Virtue, at a touch, went out of the +faithful into the faithless. If I could touch this poor old woman----!" + +"You will," said the Squire, with assurance. + +"No. And that is why I wish that I could be spared another--failure." + +Soon afterwards he left the Vicarage, and, passing the church, paused a +moment. He went in and stood near the Font, staring at the Christmas +decorations and then at the Pomfret achievements emblazoned upon many of +the windows. The decorations served to remind the smallest child in his +congregation that another Child had been born into the world; the +achievements reminded the more sophisticated of the Pomfrets who had +died. The Child had been born to save others; the Pomfrets, many of them +worthy, God-fearing persons, had been mainly concerned in preserving +their own bodies and souls. + +"He saved others; Himself He cannot save." + +The wonderful line came into his mind, as his thoughts dwelt upon the +millions of seemingly righteous, respectable men and women bent on +saving their own souls, with but little regard for the souls of others. +The Salvation Army, so derided and condemned by Church and State when he +was a boy, had accomplished work which could not be ignored by priest +and prelate, work undertaken by labourers with no outshining +qualifications except faith in their ability to convince others, others +as humble in condition as themselves, who stood, for the most part, +beyond the pale of organised charity and richly-endowed religious +denominations. + +Did this war, in relation to such thoughts, assume a new significance? +Could regeneration, reconstruction come from below, from the masses, for +example, out of which General Booth had enlisted his soldiers? Would a +privilege, the noblest in the world, the sacrosanct prerogative to touch +others to finer issues, emanate from the unprivileged? Hamlin could not +answer the question. Or, as seemed more likely, would light shine from +above, from a purified aristocracy, purged of self-interest by +sacrifice, proud and eager to remove intolerable burdens from their less +fortunate fellow-men? Or, a happier hypothesis than either, would the +complex problem be solved by co-operation of masses and classes made one +by sorrow and suffering, born anew through blood and tears? It might +well be so. + +He left the church, and walked through the village. Much rain had +fallen. He noticed that the Avon was swollen, and ready to overflow its +banks. The wind blew cold upon his cheeks. The sun moved behind heavy +clouds ready to discharge vast accumulations of moisture. In short, a +raw, drizzling day, one of the last of an unhappy year. + +When Hamlin reached the cottage, a small girl, who came in during the +morning to do house-work, the scrubbing and cleaning so dear to Susan, +told the Parson that Mrs. Yellam was upstairs. She believed that Mrs. +Alfred had passed a nice night. The baby was doing "lovely." + +Susan appeared within a minute. A glance at Hamlin's face was enough for +her. In silence he took her hand and pressed it. + +"You has news of Alferd, sir?" + +Her voice was perfectly calm, calmer than his. + +"I have a letter from his Commanding Officer. Sit down, and read it." + +They were alone in the parlour. The antimacassars had been taken from +the big Bible and replaced. But no fire burned in the grate. To Hamlin +the room stood for all that he detested and assailed in English life and +character. In its humble way, it positively exuded pretension. The +carpet, a crudely-coloured body Brussels, the ornaments on the +mantel-shelf, the enlarged photographs, the horse-hair and mahogany +furniture, the prim bookcase, glazed and glaringly varnished, +imprisoning, under lock and key, books that nobody read or could read, +the mirror, the velveteen curtains with imitation lace under-curtains, +all had been bought to impress neighbours! It was pathetic to reflect +that Mrs. Yellam thought this hideous parlour a thing of beauty, whereas +her kitchen, a joy to behold, was merely regarded as utilitarian. And +yet the kitchen expressed sincerely all that was finest in Mrs. Yellam; +the parlour set forth blatantly the defects of her strong personality. + +She read the letter. + +"May I keep it, sir?" + +"Yes. Colonel Tring tells us, Mrs. Yellam, what we all know here. Alfred +was a son to be proud of." + +Her face remained impassive. She agreed respectfully that it would be +unwise to tell Fancy the truth till some measure of strength returned to +her. Hamlin had thought out a score of simple sentences. He said none of +them. In all his long life he had never realised so acutely the +illimitable space which may divide two human beings. At this moment +Parson and Parishioner stood far apart as the poles. He had intended to +allude to his own son. But she might fling in his teeth the cutting +reminder that he had others and a daughter. And in this cold, ugly room, +looking upon her frozen face, sympathy congealed at its source. He +withheld condolence, because it must hurt instead of help. In silence he +commended her soul to God, and went away. + +Mrs. Yellam unlocked her brass-cornered desk, and placed the letter +amongst other papers. Then, idly, she looked out of the window, which +faced the road and river. Before Hamlin came, she had stood at the +window upstairs, staring out upon the same familiar landscape. And she +had asked for a sign. She had looked at the heavy clouds even as Fancy +had looked at her cards. If light shone through them, she might believe +that for her spring and summer would bloom again. + +The sign had not been vouchsafed. + +Now, she stood at the window again, with features slightly relaxed. Such +an expression informed her face as may be seen, sometimes, on the faces +of steerage passengers upon trans-Atlantic boats taking leave for ever +of their native land. + +She turned from the window and went, heavily, into the kitchen. + +Had she waited a minute longer, she would have seen a sign. Through the +falling rain shone a strange light, palely amber. It illuminated the +dull water-meadows, evoking colour--iridescent, opaline tints--where +colour had ceased to be. It transmuted, magically, the sombre lead of +the swollen river into sparkling gold. And then, swiftly, the light +failed, the vision splendid vanished like a mirage, leaving behind a +desert. + +She went up stairs. Fancy said eagerly: + +"What does Mr. Hamlin say, Mother?" + +Mrs. Yellam hesitated, for one second only. She was unprepared for this +question; she had forgotten the small maid who had scuttled into the +room, saying that the Parson wanted to see Mrs. Yellam. With a +tremendous effort she lied superbly, this woman who loathed lies +because, in her masculine wisdom, she knew that lies made all ordinary +matters worse instead of better. + +She held up her finger. + +"You be much too curious, my girl. Mr. Hamlin dropped in, very +friendly-like, to ask me about the baby's christening. He be a oner for +gettin' the lambs into the fold so quick as may be." + +Fancy was quite satisfied. + +"I told 'un," continued Mrs. Yellam placidly, embroidering her theme +after a fashion which surely would have provoked envy and commendation +from Uncle, "that you'd be up and about in no time. We passed a few +cheerful remarks about this be-utiful weather, and then off he goes." + +"I'd like to wait for Alfred," murmured Fancy. "I've a notion that he'll +come before the New Year. If he ain't a prisoner, he will come. I wonder +if he knows how bad I want him." + +"Ah-h-h!" She paused, and then added sharply: "If wanting 'd bring +Alferd, he'd be here now. You eat more and think less, and then we'll +all be happy." + +With that Mrs. Yellam went abruptly out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE TRAVELLER RETURNS + + +Throughout the day, Mrs. Yellam hovered in and out of Fancy's room, +instinctively conscious that her patient was less strong, but +obstinately determined to fight that instinct. Outwardly, there was no +change. Fancy lay quiet, thinking and talking of Alfred. Lizzie Alfreda, +happily, evoked no maternal anxiety. Colic did not disturb the infantile +slumbers. She smiled ineffably at a bottle which contained +Frisian-Holstein milk drawn from prize-winners, and judiciously blended +with lime-water. On this mild tipple the child thrived amazingly. The +monthly nurse now retired to her own cottage at night, returning in the +morning. Susan Yellam slept upon a small bed made up in Fancy's room. +The doctor had expressed gratification at the increasing vitality of his +patient. And on the Wednesday, he said that he should not call again for +three days, unless he were sent for. He congratulated Susan upon her +devotion and skill with unmistakable sincerity. + +In the afternoon, the morning's drizzle became a downpour, and the Avon +escaped from its banks. If such rain continued, the Yellam cottage would +soon become an island. Susan was not disturbed by this. Nothing +mattered; nothing distracted her save the overpowering determination to +put Fancy on her feet again. Fancy would assume control of her child. +And then an old woman would sit down, fold her hands, and await the end. +Her premature conviction that Fancy would die and that she would live +had been modified on reflection. Susan held theories about life and +work. Before the war she had contended that folks were called when their +work was done. A few rotten apples might stick to the tree, but they +proved the general rule. Fruit fell to the ground when ripe. + +Satisfied in her mind that she would save Fancy by her own undivided +efforts, Mrs. Yellam contemplated with grim satisfaction her approaching +decease. She regarded herself as dead. She could survey with detachment +what was left of the Susan who rose early, waited diligently upon Fancy, +ate her meals (without any pleasure in them) and lay down to troubled +sleep. So chilled was she in mind, soul and body, that she noticed +without regret that Solomon, the faithful Solomon, too affectionate, too +demonstrative to a hard old flint, had transferred his allegiance to +Fancy. The dog lay at the foot of her bed night and day. Fancy talked to +him about Alfred, not about Lizzie Alfreda, because Solomon was jealous. +When Lizzie Alfreda came in, Solomon went for a run in the garden, and +heartened himself up by sniffing at various food-stuffs in a delightful +state of decomposition. But, oddly enough, he never wandered farther +afield. Within half an hour--Lizzie Alfreda's visits were drastically +curtailed--he would patter up the wooden stairs, scratch at the door, +whine, and be admitted. In a jiffy he was on the bed again, staring hard +at Fancy, as if he were a doctor contemplating a change of treatment. + +It had been agreed between Hamlin and Mrs. Yellam that Alfred's death +should be kept a secret from the villagers till the official +notification appeared in the newspapers. But when Uncle walked into the +cottage at tea-time, full of cheer despite the weather, and cracking +many small jokes about boats and swimmers, Mrs. Yellam simply could not +bear it. She said with startling abruptness: + +"Habakkuk, I'd break bad news to 'ee gently, if I could. But 'tisn't in +me to do it. Alferd be dead." + +Poor Uncle could not take it in. + +"But, Susan, Alferd be lost." + +"'Twas a shell. They couldn't find 'un, because there was nothing to +find." + +To her dismay, Uncle bowed his head upon his hands and wept like a +woman, shedding the copious tears that might have softened the hard eyes +steadily regarding him. He had loved Alfred. Susan knew this. He could +have better spared one of his own sons rather than this kindly, +affectionate nephew. She rose quietly and fetched the letter, giving him +time to recover his self-control. As she held out the letter, he raised +a face to hers so seamed by grief and pain that almost, almost her heart +melted within her. He read the letter and returned it. She put it away, +and took a chair upon the other side of the hearth. Uncle gazed about +him, noting, as men do upon such occasions, trifles that escape notice +in happier times. The coffin stools stood in their old place against the +wall. Uncle pointed at them, with trembling finger: + +"Fancy be dead, too." + +"No. She be more like herself to-day, although tarr'ble weak. They +stools be for me, Habakkuk. The sooner I goes the better." + +No inflection of resignation tempered this statement. Uncle, like +Hamlin, realised the futility of condolence, but silence imposed too +great a burden upon him. + +"You has the baby," he suggested. + +"She belongs to Fancy. I bain't afeard for they two." + +"Be you afeard for yourself, Susan?" + +She eyed him, sensible of an ever-increasing aversion to questions. Was +he thinking of punishment hereafter, of Hell's fires? + +"I bain't afeard o' Hell, and I bain't going to Heaven. For why? Heaven +and Hell be here on earth--and nowheres else." + +"Susan----!" + +"Ay, you be mazed, and no wonder. But I be come to that. I believed in +God A'mighty; I believed in Satan--for sixty long years. But such belief +be clean gone." + +"You be wrong, Susan. It ain't in me to argufy wi' 'ee, and, maybe, tear +both our hearts. But you be wrong. The swallers knows better'n that. Who +gave 'em their wisdom? I says no more but this: God sent His Own People +into the wilderness, where you be, and He brought 'em out." + +She shook her head. Uncle stood up. + +"'Tis rainin' crool hard, but I be off to the Forest. You won't want +Jane fussin' about 'ee? No. Or anybody else. I allers allowed as misery +loved company, but I be so miserable this day that I wants to be alone, +as you does." + +He kissed her cold cheeks and went out into the rain. + +She sat on for a minute, but the thought that worried her most was the +regret that he had not had his tea. The day was failing fast. In a +moment she would have to light a lamp and carry it upstairs. But +something remained to be done, a duty neglected since the morning. + +She went into the parlour, where the light was better, but not good; +good enough, she reflected, for her purpose. She lifted the Bible, +placed it upon the middle table, and opened it at the fly-leaf. Then she +took pen and ink from her desk and a clean sheet of blotting-paper. She +took out her spectacles, wiped them carefully, put them on, and sat +down. Against Alfred's name she made the necessary entry, "_Killed in +Action_," adding the date. Her hand never trembled; the writing was +characteristic; firm, bold, with the words neatly spaced, indicating +love of order. What she had willed herself to be, she was: a flint +embedded in sterile soil. She took off her spectacles and placed them in +their case, rising as she did so. Upon second thoughts, she decided to +let the ink dry upon the page. Suddenly, an irresistible impulse gripped +her. She glanced about her furtively, defiantly, as if challenging +unseen powers to thwart her determination. Hastily with fingers that +trembled this time, she snatched up the pen, dipped it into the ink, and +wrote against her name, Susan Yellam, these words: + +"_Died. December 28th, 1916._" + +As hastily, she placed the sheet of blotting-paper above the entries, +closed the Bible, and replaced it upon its table. + +Having shut up the parlour, she lit a lamp and carried it upstairs. The +baby was asleep. The nurse went home for the night. Then Mrs. Yellam +told Fancy, in a cheerful voice, that she would bring up tea in a few +minutes. + +"I thought I heard Uncle," said Fancy. + +"Yes; he looked in and made some stupid jokes, he did, about gettin' the +miller's boat." + +"Whatever for?" + +"Like as not we may be on an island afore nightfall." + +Fancy smiled. + +"I'd love to ride in miller's boat again. Alfred popped the question in +that. I did tease him first. 'Twas rare fun. I suppose Uncle was in fine +fettle, as usual?" + +"Yes; I never seen him so gay and joyous. Now, you lie so quiet as any +mouse whilst I gets tea." + +It might have been so delightful a meal. Outside, the wind roared and +the rain fell in sheets; inside, the logs crackled in the fireplace, the +warm curtains were drawn, and the lamp shone upon Mrs. Yellam's best +tea-things. Everything that could tempt a capricious appetite was there: +fragrant tea, cream, jam, honey, and little scones which warranted the +belief that Susan Yellam had secreted somewhere a bag of white flour. + +Susan had to sustain the burden of talk, and soared to heights. Fancy +must be entertained--the doctor's injunction. The old woman's amazing +will surmounted all obstacles. And who shall say that this +heart-breaking effort to beguile Fancy was not the most selfless +achievement of Mrs. Yellam's long life? She described passages in +Uncle's early career; anecdotes about Jane, anecdotes about her own +Lizzie and Alfred. As a boy, it seemed, Alfred had been very untidy. He +never kept his own little attic in order. Finally his mother said to +him: + +"Alferd, your room bain't a boy's room, nor a dog's kennel, nor a pig's +stye. 'Tis the habitation of a lunatic." + +Fancy smiled, because the mother must have spoken at the time, and again +now, with such inimitable seriousness. + +After tea, Fancy was commanded to rest. But before doing so, she caught +hold of her entertainer's hand, and said earnestly: + +"How good you are to me, Mother! How good and kind you always are to +sick folk. Such a wondersome woman! I hope my lil' maid will grow up +just like you." + +"If you talk such outrageous nonsense, I'll--I'll spank Lizzie. That'll +larn 'ee." + +But Fancy refused to be gagged. She went on, in her soft, feeble tones, +expatiating upon Mrs. Yellam's many virtues and excellencies. Time was +when Susan would have listened to this praise with smug complacency. +Fancy did but state the facts. And the mere recital of them exasperated +the listener beyond endurance. Steel striking flint--and praise had +become steel--provoked sparks. + +"I be real vexed wi' 'ee, Fancy." + +She bustled off with the tea-things, and remained absent so long that +Fancy began to fear that she had really offended her. Solomon, however, +reassured her on this point. They exchanged pleasant chat about Alfred. +Fancy felt jealous because Solomon would know when Alfred was coming at +least five minutes before she did. + +"You'll jump off the bed and bark." + +Solomon wagged his tail. + +"My! Won't he get wet if he comes to-night, Solly? Are you expecting him +to-night, you wise little dog?" + +Solomon put a cold nose into her hand. Mrs. Yellam's step was heard on +the stairs. Solomon retired to his end of the bed, well aware that +prolonged talk had been forbidden after tea. + +Mrs. Yellam, seeing that Fancy was awake, said impressively: + +"We be an island at this minute." + +"Oh, dear!" + +Mrs. Yellam assured her that it had often happened before. The cottage +itself stood high above the encroaching waters. At highest flood they +were not more than two feet deep. + +"Alfred'll get so wet." + +"Ay. I never thought o' that. I think, Fancy, that you did ought to put +this strange notion of Alferd's coming out of your dear lil' head. 'Tis +most onlikely. I dunno' how such a queer idea got into it." + +"Because he promised me that he would come." + +"But, Lard bless 'ee, he meant so be as he got leave. If 'tis true that +he be safe in France----" + +"I know he be safe." + +Mrs. Yellam glanced at her anxiously. Was the girl light-headed? She +must know that if Alfred were missing, owing--as Fancy had been +discreetly told--to some injury to his head which had caused him to +stray from the British lines, his first steps, when he became himself +again, would be directed back to his battalion. Wisely, she busied +herself about the room, entreating her patient to compose herself to +sleep. Presently Fancy dozed off, and Mrs. Yellam, softly approaching +the bed, examined her critically. She looked startlingly pretty. A faint +colour tinged lips and cheeks; her skin was translucently clear; her +hair, regularly brushed by Mrs. Yellam, lay thick and lustrous above her +forehead. + +It was almost impossible to behold her as a widow. + +For the first time since she had dedicated all her energies to fighting +for this frail life doubt assailed Mrs. Yellam. Fancy's hand lay upon +the white counterpane. Mrs. Yellam laid her hand beside it and compared +the two. + +All her experience of life as it is lived by people who cannot afford +servants, the endless bondage to manual labour, the washing, scrubbing +of floors and pots and pans, the cooking, the mending, rose up in her +ample mind, and filled it with poignant misgiving. Could this attenuated +hand, soft and weak as a child's, fend for Lizzie if--if Death came at +the despairing call of Susan Yellam? + +She clenched her own hand, nearly as large and powerful as a man's fist. +Fancy _must_ live to mother her child. She had no claim on Death, this +young, pretty creature, so easily pleased with life, so happy with +simple things, so contented with what she possessed, incapable of +envying those above her in station. Time would be kind to her. Time +would enshrine Alfred in her heart as the man who had taught her to +love, who had given her a fidelity and tenderness rarely found in +cottages or palaces. She might marry again. Why not? It says much for +Susan Yellam's essential wisdom that she could visualise such a +possibility, however remote, without a pang. + +A couple of hours passed. + +Lizzie Alfreda was fed and washed, with Fancy looking on, and replaced +in her cradle. Mrs. Yellam mended the fire, and went down to the kitchen +to prepare supper. Fancy seemed to be refreshed after her nap, but some +inflection of her voice warned an obstinate old woman that strength was +departing, very slowly, almost imperceptibly, as the hour-hand moves +round the dial. + +After supper she took her knitting and sat by the bed. To her great +relief, Fancy never mentioned Alfred. She prattled artlessly about +Lizzie. And then, gradually, during the intermittancies of silence, Mrs. +Yellam knew that the victory, for which she had fought so desperately, +which she had believed to be won, was unachievable. Afterwards, she was +unable to say when this conviction seized her. She admitted, however, to +Uncle that she knew because Fancy must have known. And Fancy believed +that she was cunningly hiding this knowledge. It leaked from her lips, +as she talked about Lizzie Alfreda to her grandmother, conjuring up a +picture of youth ministering to age, a picture so vivid, so true to +life, that something told Susan Yellam that it must come to pass. Fancy +was going. And when her own time came, she would lie in this bed, and +Alfred's child would close her eyes. Fancy foreshadowed no such scene. +But she spoke of Mrs. Yellam teaching Lizzie Alfreda how to use her +needle and instructing her in other domestic tasks. The thought of doing +this, of playing mother in her old age, softened indurated tissues, but +the original hardness remained. Susan turned desperately for comfort to +a flesh-and-blood grandchild; she turned as desperately from any faith +in a wise and merciful God. + +Outside, the rain went on falling; the wind wailed through the firs +where the ospreys found sanctuary on their flight south. Solomon slept +comfortably at the foot of the bed. Presently, it became time to prepare +Fancy for the night. Face and hands were washed with soap which Mrs. +Yellam had never applied to her weather-beaten countenance. Fancy's hair +was brushed and plaited in two coils. + +"Put on fresh ribands to-night, mother." + +"What an idea! You be so vain as any twoad." + +"Are toads vain? I'd like blue ribands." + +Grumblingly, Mrs. Yellam went to a drawer and produced new ribands. When +she had finished her patient's toilet, she said: + +"My! But you look pretty to-night." + +"Do I? I'm glad of that." + +Lizzie Alfreda woke up, clamouring for Frisian-Holstein milk. She lay +beside Fancy till the bottle was finished. Then she was taken back to +her cradle in the next room. + +It was fully time now for Mrs. Yellam to prepare for the night, but she +didn't do so. Fancy had closed her eyes. The faint colour had gone from +her cheeks. She had fallen asleep. Susan laid her finger upon the pulse; +she could just feel it beating, but not regularly. A wild impulse surged +through her to rush into the night, to send Uncle for the doctor. But +she dared not leave her patient. And, after all, there was so little +change; the child had talked too much after tea; strength would return +in the morning. + +She made up the fire again, slipped off her austere black gown, and put +on a dressing-gown, an ancient garment known to many mothers in +Nether-Applewhite. Draped in this, with list sandals on her feet, you +might have taken Susan for a Roman matron. Hamlin, who had seen her thus +arrayed, nearly addressed her as "Cornelia." + +An hour or more may have passed, during which time the gale began to +rage itself out. Lulls succeeded roaring blasts. Mrs. Yellam felt no +inclination to sleep; she became, instead, sensible of alertness, a +quickening of sensibilities and senses. Her hearing, still acute, became +painfully so. The patter of the rain upon the windows irritated her; +when it stopped, she missed it, and wanted it to begin again. + +And then a strange thing happened, strange only when taken in connection +with what followed. Solomon woke up, jumped lightly from the bed, and +went to the door. He had been let out, as usual, some two hours +previously. Mrs. Yellam held up a finger, enjoining silence. Solomon lay +down, head up, staring at the door, alert, as Mrs. Yellam was, +expectant, with ears cocked as if he heard something or somebody. + +"What is it, Solly?" she whispered. + +He paid no attention. + +If the cottage had not been surrounded by water, Mrs. Yellam might have +considered the probability of tramps trying to find shelter in the barn. +She would not have been alarmed. Her cottage was tramp-proof and at this +moment an island fortress. At the same time, she knew that her heart was +beating faster; an indefinable fear assailed her, something she had +never experienced before. + +She started violently. Fancy was sitting up in bed, her cheeks flushed +with colour, her eyes dancing, her arms outstretched. + +"I hear him," she exclaimed. "Don't you, Mother?" + +"Lie down, child; lie down." + +"It's Alfred. Let him in!" + +Mrs. Yellam did not move. Fancy, she decided, was light-headed. She +hesitated, fearing to excite her, willing to humour her, provided she +made no attempt to leave her bed. + +"He's coming upstairs." + +She no longer looked at Mrs. Yellam; her eyes remained upon the bedroom +door. So strange a light shone in those eyes that Mrs. Yellam began to +question her own sanity, not Fancy's. + +Solomon never moved. + +The suspense became unendurable. But Mrs. Yellam remained in her chair, +ready to spring to her feet, if Fancy left the bed. + +Solomon got up, whined, turned from the door, and jumped into Mrs. +Yellam's lap. He was trembling. At the same moment she heard Fancy's +voice, strong and exultant: + +"Alfie!--I knew you'd come." + +Her speech became broken and faltering: + +"I did want you, as never was. It was awful going through it without +you. And it's a She--what you wanted. How lovely you look! Kiss me +again! Hold me tight! If you don't, I--I may slip off...." + +Her voice died away in sighs; her eyes closed; her head fell back upon +her pillow. Mrs. Yellam put Solomon down, rose to her feet, and hurried +to the bed. In an instant her strong arms were encircling the wasted +body, clutching it to her, trying to hold Fancy back, but knowing that +she was, as she said, slipping away. Fancy spoke again, very faintly: + +"However did you manage to come back?" + +Mrs. Yellam listened, waiting, hoping, and almost believing, that an +answer would be forthcoming. Her son, according to Colonel Tring, had +been killed by a shell--killed and obliterated. She had known that death +must have been painless. + +Fancy answered for Alfred, in a whisper that seemed to come from an +immense distance. + +"I hear you, plain as plain. What? A--_shell_--! Did it hurt, Alfie? It +didn't. But because of that you were able to come. You had to come for +both our sakes--Mother's and mine. And such a night! You ain't a bit +wet, neither.... Afraid, Alfie...? With you holding me tight as +tight.... Oh, no." + +Susan Yellam heard a trickle of laughter. After that Fancy sighed twice, +and then her small body relaxed. + +She had slipped away. + + * * * * * + +Dawn was stealing into the kitchen when Mrs. Yellam went downstairs. + +She was still curiously alert in mind, although very weary in body. +After she had closed Fancy's eyes and performed the last services, she +sat down by the bed to think. Dying people, as she knew, might entertain +hallucinations. And Fancy, in health, exercised a lively imagination. +That she should believe that she saw Alfred, so long and ardently +desired, just before breath left her body, was not remarkable in itself. + +But, speaking for Alfred, repeating, as it were, information, Fancy had +used the word "shell." + +Was this mere coincidence? + +Again, according to Alfred--admitting that he had come back--his return +in the spirit was due not only to solicitude for his wife, but for his +mother. She heard Fancy's feeble voice--"for both our sakes." And she +had spoken of his appearance as "lovely." + +Susan Yellam's strong brain considered these three facts together with +the uncanny behaviour of Solomon, now peacefully asleep in the next +room. As yet, she had shed no tears, but, slowly, the ice about her +heart was melting. + +Her thoughts turned to the form beneath the spotless sheet. It seemed so +cruel that Fancy should be dead. Why was life given to young things and +then taken away? But this gentle creature had not lived in vain. She had +accomplished a task that had baffled Jane Mucklow and herself. Fancy had +drawn Habakkuk from the ale-house, beguiled him from his cronies with +soft words and smiles, made a better man of him. She had made a better +man of Alfred. + +She thought of Alfred and Fancy together. + +Almost she believed that Alfred had come back. + +Hovering upon the brink of this conviction, she heard a wail from the +baby, the pitiful appeal of helplessness to strength. She hurried into +the next room, and took the child into her arms, clutching it to her +bosom. + +Lizzie Alfreda was hers, her very own. Till that moment she had regarded +the tiny creature, not with indifference, but apathetically, a +grandchild by whom she would do her duty. And we know that she had +forced herself to believe that Fancy would live to fend for her own +child. Could so frail a woman have done so properly? If her wish had +been granted, if Death had taken Susan instead of Fancy Yellam, and if +Fancy had risen from her bed an enfeebled, anaemic woman, subject to all +those maladies which wait on physical debility, could she have "fended" +for Lizzie Alfreda? + +The ice was melting fast now. + +She fed Lizzie Alfreda and replaced her in the cradle, but the baby +still wailed a little, staring at Susan Yellam. She took her up--an +action against her principles--soothed her, and immediately the child +stopped crying. Susan crooned to her a lullaby which she thought she had +forgotten, which had served, long ago, when her own Lizzie was wakeful. +And the simple, droning song brought back, vividly, past pleasures. Age +dropped from her; she became for a moment a young mother anticipating +joyously all that "fending" implied. Soon the child slept. + +And then the tears came, washing away ice, doubt, despair, cleansing +anew a humble and contrite heart. + +From that undiscovered country, whose existence she had obstinately +denied, a traveller had returned. + +After lighting the kitchen fire, Susan Yellam entered the parlour. She +pulled up the blinds and drew the curtains. From her desk, she took a +sharp penknife, and tried its edge upon her thumb. Then, reluctantly, as +if ashamed, she opened the Bible, intending to erase carefully the last +presumptuous entry. + +She glanced at it, and a sharp exclamation escaped her trembling lips. +She put on her spectacles and stared, open-mouthed, at the page in front +of her. "Died, December 28th, 1916," was written not, as she had +supposed, against the name of Susan Yellam, but against the name of +Fancy Yellam. + +And then she remembered that, in her blind haste to record her own +death, she had forgotten to put on her spectacles. + +And the light, at the time, was failing. + +The Light was not failing now. + +She fell upon her knees, bowing her head over the Book. + +Next Sunday she was in her pew. + + +THE END + + + + +THE NOVELS OF +MARY ROBERTS RINEHART + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +"K." Illustrated. + +K. LeMoyne, famous surgeon, drops out of the world that has known him, +and goes to live in a little town where beautiful Sidney Page lives. She +is in training to become a nurse. The joys and troubles of their young +love are told with that keen and sympathetic appreciation which has made +the author famous. + + +THE MAN IN LOWER TEN. + +Illustrated by Howard Chandler Christy. + +An absorbing detective story woven around the mysterious death of the +"Man in Lower Ten." The strongest elements of Mrs. Rinehart's success +are found in this book. + + +WHEN A MAN MARRIES. + +Illustrated by Harrison Fisher and Mayo Bunker. + +A young artist, whose wife had recently divorced him, finds that his +aunt is soon to visit him. The aunt, who contributes to the family +income and who has never seen the wife, knows nothing of the domestic +upheaval. How the young man met the situation is humorously and most +entertainingly told. + + +THE CIRCULAR STAIRCASE. Illus. by Lester Ralph. + +The summer occupants of "Sunnyside" find the dead body of Arnold +Armstrong, the son of the owner, on the circular staircase. Following +the murder a bank failure is announced. Around these two events is woven +a plot of absorbing interest. + + +THE STREET OF SEVEN STARS. + +Illustrated (Photo Play Edition.) + +Harmony Wells, studying in Vienna to be a great violinist, suddenly +realizes that her money is almost gone. She meets a young ambitious +doctor who offers her chivalry and sympathy, and together with +world-worn Dr. Anna and Jimmie, the waif, they share their love and +slender means. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + +BOOTH TARKINGTON'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +SEVENTEEN. Illustrated by Arthur William Brown. + +No one but the creator of Penrod could have portrayed the immortal young +people of this story. Its humor is irresistible and reminiscent of the +time when the reader was Seventeen. + + +PENROD. Illustrated by Gordon Grant. + +This is a picture of a boy's heart, full of the lovable, humorous, +tragic things which are locked secrets to most older folks. It is a +finished, exquisite work. + + +PENROD AND SAM. Illustrated by Worth Brehm. + +Like "Penrod" and "Seventeen," this book contains some remarkable phases +of real boyhood and some of the best stories of juvenile prankishness +that have ever been written. + + +THE TURMOIL. Illustrated by C. E. Chambers. + +Bibbs Sheridan is a dreamy, imaginative youth, who revolts against his +father's plans for him to be a servitor of big business. The love of a +fine girl turns Bibb's life from failure to success. + + +THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA. Frontispiece. + +A story of love and politics,--more especially a picture of a country +editor's life in Indiana, but the charm of the book lies in the love +interest. + + +THE FLIRT. Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood. + +The "Flirt," the younger of two sisters, breaks one girl's engagement, +drives one man to suicide, causes the murder of another, leads another +to lose his fortune, and in the end marries a stupid and unpromising +suitor, leaving the really worthy one to marry her sister. + +_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + +KATHLEEN NORRIS' STORIES + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +MOTHER. Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +This book has a fairy-story touch, counterbalanced by the sturdy reality +of struggle, sacrifice, and resulting peace and power of a mother's +experiences. + + +SATURDAY'S CHILD. + +Frontispiece by F. Graham Cootes. + +Out on the Pacific coast a normal girl, obscure and lovely, makes a +quest for happiness. She passes through three stages--poverty, wealth +and service--and works out a creditable salvation. + + +THE RICH MRS. BURGOYNE. + +Illustrated by Lucius H. Hitchcock. + +The story of a sensible woman who keeps within her means, refuses to be +swamped by social engagements, lives a normal human life of varied +interests, and has her own romance. + + +THE STORY OF JULIA PAGE. + +Frontispiece by Allan Gilbert. + +How Julia Page, reared in rather unpromising surroundings, lifted +herself through sheer determination to a higher plane of life. + + +THE HEART OF RACHAEL. + +Frontispiece by Charles E. Chambers. + +Rachael is called upon to solve many problems, and in working out these, +there is shown the beauty and strength of soul of one of fiction's most +appealing characters. + +_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + +SEWELL FORD'S STORIES + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +SHORTY McCABE. Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson. + +A very humorous story. The hero, an independent and vigorous thinker, +sees life, and tells about it in a very unconventional way. + + +SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY. + +Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson. + +Twenty skits, presenting people with their foibles. Sympathy with human +nature and an abounding sense of humor are the requisites for +"side-stepping with Shorty." + + +SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB. + +Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson. + +Shorty McCabe reappears with his figures of speech revamped right up to +the minute. He aids in the right distribution of a "conscience fund," +and gives joy to all concerned. + + +SHORTY McCABE'S ODD NUMBERS. + +Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson. + +These further chronicles of Shorty McCabe tell of his studio for +physical culture, and of his experiences both on the East side and at +swell yachting parties. + + +TORCHY. Illus. by Geo. Biehm and Jas. Montgomery Flagg. + +A red-headed office boy, overflowing with wit and wisdom peculiar to the +youths reared on the sidewalks of New York, tells the story of his +experiences. + + +TRYING OUT TORCHY. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln. + +Torchy is just as deliriously funny in these stories as he was in the +previous book. + + +ON WITH TORCHY. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln. + +Torchy falls desperately in love with "the only girl that ever was," but +that young society woman's aunt tries to keep the young people apart, +which brings about many hilariously funny situations. + + +TORCHY, PRIVATE SEC. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln. + +Torchy rises from the position of office boy to that of secretary for +the Corrugated Iron Company. The story is full of humor and infectious +American slang. + + +WILT THOU TORCHY. Illus. by F. Snapp and A. W. Brown. + +Torchy goes on a treasure search expedition to the Florida West Coast, +in company with a group of friends of the Corrugated Trust and with his +friend's aunt, on which trip Torchy wins the aunt's permission to place +an engagement ring on Vee's finger. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + +THE NOVELS OF WINSTON CHURCHILL + + +THE INSIDE OF THE CUP. Illustrated by Howard Giles. + +The Reverend John Hodder is called to a fashionable church in a +middle-western city. He knows little of modern problems and in his +theology is as orthodox as the rich men who control his church could +desire. But the facts of modern life are thrust upon him; an awakening +follows and in the end he works out a solution. + + +A FAR COUNTRY. Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer. + +This novel is concerned with big problems of the day. As _The Inside of +the Cup_ gets down to the essentials in its discussion of religion, so +_A Far Country_ deals in a story that is intense and dramatic, with +other vital issues confronting the twentieth century. + + +A MODERN CHRONICLE. Illustrated by J. H. Gardner Soper. + +This, Mr. Churchill's first great presentation of the Eternal Feminine, +is throughout a profound study of a fascinating young American woman. It +is frankly a modern love story. + + +MR. CREWE'S CAREER. Illus. by A. I. Keller and Kinneys. + +A new England state is under the political domination of a railway and +Mr. Crewe, a millionaire, seizes a moment when the cause of the people +is being espoused by an ardent young attorney, to further his own +interest in a political way. The daughter of the railway president plays +no small part in the situation. + + +THE CROSSING. Illustrated by S. Adamson and L. Baylis. + +Describing the battle of Fort Moultrie, the blazing of the Kentucky +wilderness, the expedition of Clark and his handful of followers in +Illinois, the beginning of civilization along the Ohio and Mississippi, +and the treasonable schemes against Washington. + + +CONISTON. Illustrated by Florence Scovel Shinn. + +A deft blending of love and politics. A New Englander is the hero, a +crude man who rose to political prominence by his own powers, and then +surrendered all for the love of a woman. + + +THE CELEBRITY. An episode. + +An inimitable bit of comedy describing an interchange of personalities +between a celebrated author and a bicycle salesman. It is the purest, +keenest fun--and is American to the core. + + +THE CRISIS. Illustrated with scenes from the Photo-Play. + +A book that presents the great crisis in our national life with splendid +power and with a sympathy, a sincerity, and a patriotism that are +inspiring. + + +RICHARD CARVEL. Illustrated by Malcolm Frazer. + +An historical novel which gives a real and vivid picture of Colonial +times, and is good, clean, spirited reading in all its phases and +interesting throughout. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + +JACK LONDON'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +JOHN BARLEYCORN. Illustrated by H. T. Dunn. + +This remarkable book is a record of the author's own amazing +experiences. This big, brawny world rover, who has been acquainted with +alcohol from boyhood, comes out boldly against John Barleycorn. It is a +string of exciting adventures, yet it forcefully conveys an unforgetable +idea and makes a typical Jack London book. + + +THE VALLEY OF THE MOON. Frontispiece by George Harper. + +The story opens in the city slums where Billy Roberts, teamster and +ex-prize fighter, and Saxon Brown, laundry worker, meet and love and +marry. They tramp from one end of California to the other, and in the +Valley of the Moon find the farm paradise that is to be their salvation. + + +BURNING DAYLIGHT. Four illustrations. + +The story of an adventurer who went to Alaska and laid the foundations +of his fortune before the gold hunters arrived. Bringing his fortunes to +the States he is cheated out of it by a crowd of money kings, and +recovers it only at the muzzle of his gun. He then starts out as a +merciless exploiter on his own account. Finally he takes to drinking and +becomes a picture of degeneration. About this time he falls in love with +his stenographer and wins her heart but not her hand and then--but read +the story! + + +A SON OF THE SUN. Illustrated by A. O. Fischer and C. W. Ashley. + +David Grief was once a light-haired, blue-eyed youth who came from +England to the South Seas in search of adventure. Tanned like a native +and as lithe as a tiger, he became a real son of the sun. The life +appealed to him and he remained and became very wealthy. + + +THE CALL OF THE WILD. Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin and Charles +Livingston Bull. Decorations by Charles E. Hooper. + +A book of dog adventures as exciting as any man's exploits could be. +Here is excitement to stir the blood and here is picturesque color to +transport the reader to primitive scenes. + + +THE SEA WOLF. Illustrated by W. J. Aylward. + +Told by a man whom Fate suddenly swings from his fastidious life into +the power of the brutal captain of a sealing schooner. A novel of +adventure warmed by a beautiful love episode that every reader will hail +with delight. + + +WHITE FANG. Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull. + +"White Fang" is part dog, part wolf and all brute, living in the frozen +north; he gradually comes under the spell of man's companionship, and +surrenders all at the last in a fight with a bull dog. Thereafter he is +man's loving slave. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + +NOVELS OF FRONTIER LIFE BY + +WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE + +HANDSOMELY BOUND IN CLOTH. ILLUSTRATED. + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list. + + +MAVERICKS. + +A tale of the western frontier, where the "rustler," whose depredations +are so keenly resented by the early settlers of the range, abounds. One +of the sweetest love stories ever told. + + +A TEXAS RANGER. + +How a member of the most dauntless border police force carried law into +the mesquit, saved the life of an innocent man after a series of +thrilling adventures, followed a fugitive to Wyoming, and then passed +through deadly peril to ultimate happiness. + + +WYOMING. + +In this vivid story of the outdoor West the author has captured the +breezy charm of "cattleland," and brings out the turbid life of the +frontier with all its engaging dash and vigor. + + +RIDGWAY OF MONTANA. + +The scene is laid in the mining centers of Montana, where politics and +mining industries are the religion of the country. The political +contest, the love scene, and the fine character drawing give this story +great strength and charm. + + +BUCKY O'CONNOR. + +Every chapter teems with wholesome, stirring adventures, replete with +the dashing spirit of the border, told with dramatic dash and absorbing +fascination of style and plot. + + +CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT. + +A story of Arizona; of swift-riding men and daring outlaws; of a bitter +feud between cattle-men and sheep-herders. The heroine is a most unusual +woman and her love story reaches a culmination that is fittingly +characteristic of the great free West. + + +BRAND BLOTTERS. + +A story of the Cattle Range. This story brings out the turbid life of +the frontier, with all its engaging dash and vigor, with a charming love +interest running through its 320 pages. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + +ZANE GREY'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list + + +THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS + +A New York society girl buys a ranch which becomes the center of +frontier warfare. Her loyal superintendent rescues her when she is +captured by bandits. A surprising climax brings the story to a +delightful close. + + +THE RAINBOW TRAIL + +The story of a young clergyman who becomes a wanderer in the great +western uplands--until at last love and faith awake. + + +DESERT GOLD + +The story describes the recent uprising along the border, and ends with +the finding of the gold which two prospectors had willed to the girl who +is the story's heroine. + + +RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE + +A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when Mormon +authority ruled. The prosecution of Jane Withersteen is the theme of the +story. + + +THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN + +This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo Jones, +known as the preserver of the American bison, across the Arizona desert +and of a hunt in "that wonderful country of deep canons and giant +pines." + + +THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT + +A lovely girl, who has been reared among Mormons, learns to love a young +New Englander. The Mormon religion, however, demands that the girl shall +become the second wife of one of the Mormons--Well, that's the problem +of this great story. + + +THE SHORT STOP + +The young hero, tiring of his factory grind, starts out to win fame and +fortune as a professional ball player. His hard knocks at the start are +followed by such success as clean sportsmanship, courage and honesty +ought to win. + + +BETTY ZANE + +This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beautiful +young sister of old Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers. + + +THE LONE STAR RANGER + +After killing a man in self defense, Buck Duane becomes an outlaw along +the Texas border. In a camp on the Mexican side of the river, he finds a +young girl held prisoner, and in attempting to rescue her, brings down +upon himself the wrath of her captors and henceforth is hunted on one +side by honest men, on the other by outlaws. + + +THE BORDER LEGION + +Joan Randle, in a spirit of anger, sent Jim Cleve out to a lawless +Western mining camp, to prove his mettle. Then realizing that she loved +him--she followed him out. On her way, she is captured by a bandit band, +and trouble begins when she shoots Kells, the leader--and nurses him to +health again. Here enters another romance--when Joan, disguised as an +outlaw, observes Jim, in the throes of dissipation. A gold strike, a +thrilling robbery--gambling and gun play carry you along breathlessly. + + +THE LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS, By Helen Cody Wetmore and Zane Grey + +The life story of Colonel William F. Cody, "Buffalo Bill," as told by +his sister and Zane Grey. It begins with his boyhood in Iowa and his +first encounter with an Indian. We see "Bill" as a pony express rider, +then near Fort Sumter as Chief of the Scouts, and later engaged in the +most dangerous Indian campaigns. There is also a very interesting +account of the travels of "The Wild West" Show. No character in public +life makes a stronger appeal to the imagination of America than "Buffalo +Bill," whose daring and bravery made him famous. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + +STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY + +GENE STRATTON-PORTER + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +MICHAEL O'HALLORAN. Illustrated by Frances Rogers. + +Michael is a quick-witted little Irish newsboy, living in Northern +Indiana. He adopts a deserted little girl, a cripple. He also assumes +the responsibility of leading the entire rural community upward and +onward. + + +LADDIE. Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer. + +This is a bright, cheery tale with the scenes laid in Indiana. The story +is told by Little Sister, the youngest member of a large family, but it +is concerned not so much with childish doings as with the love affairs +of older members of the family. Chief among them is that of Laddie and +the Princess, an English girl who has come to live in the neighborhood +and about whose family there hangs a mystery. + + +THE HARVESTER. Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs. + +"The Harvester," is a man of the woods and fields, and if the book had +nothing in it but the splendid figure of this man it would be notable. +But when the Girl comes to his "Medicine Woods," there begins a romance +of the rarest idyllic quality. + + +FRECKLES. Illustrated. + +Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in which he +takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the great +Limberlost Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets him succumbs to +the charm of his engaging personality; and his love-story with "The +Angel" are full of real sentiment. + + +A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST. Illustrated. + +The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant, loveable type of +the self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and kindness +towards all things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the sheer beauty of +her soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from barren and +unpromising surroundings those rewards of high courage. + + +AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW. Illustrations in colors. + +The scene of this charming love story is laid in Central Indiana. The +story is one of devoted friendship, and tender self-sacrificing love. +The novel is brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature, and +its pathos and tender sentiment will endear it to all. + + +THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL. Profusely illustrated. + +A love idea of the Cardinal bird and his mate, told with delicacy and +humor. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + +MYRTLE REED'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list. + + +LAVENDER AND OLD LACE. + +A charming story of a quaint corner of New England, where bygone romance +finds a modern parallel. The story centers round the coming of love to +the young people on the staff of a newspaper--and it is one of the +prettiest, sweetest and quaintest of old-fashioned love stories. + + +MASTER OF THE VINEYARD. + +A pathetic love story of a young girl, Rosemary. The teacher of the +country school, who is also master of the vineyard, comes to know her +through her desire for books. She is happy in his love till another +woman comes into his life. But happiness and emancipation from her many +trials come to Rosemary at last. The book has a touch of humor and +pathos that will appeal to every reader. + + +OLD ROSE AND SILVER. + +A love story,--sentimental and humorous,--with the plot subordinate to +the character delineation of its quaint people and to the exquisite +descriptions of picturesque spots and of lovely, old, rare treasures. + + +A WEAVER OF DREAMS. + +This story tells of the love-affairs of three young people, with an +old-fashioned romance in the background. A tiny dog plays an important +role in serving as a foil for the heroine's talking ingeniousness. There +is poetry, as well as tenderness and charm, in this tale of a weaver of +dreams. + + +A SPINNER IN THE SUN. + +An old-fashioned love story, of a veiled lady who lives in solitude and +whose features her neighbors have never seen. There is a mystery at the +heart of the book that throws over it the glamour of romance. + + +THE MASTER'S VIOLIN. + +A love story in a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old German virtuoso +consents to take for his pupil a handsome youth who proves to have an +aptitude for technique, but not the soul of an artist. The youth cannot +express the love, the passion and the tragedies of life as can the +master. But a girl comes into his life, and through his passionate love +for her, he learns the lessons that life has to give--and his soul +awakes. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's note: + + Punctuation has been made consistent. + + Dialect, alternate and obsolete spellings were not changed. + Words ending in '-ise' and '-sing' instead of the more usual '-ize' + and '-zing' were not changed, e.g. apologise instead of apologize. + + Changes made for consistency within the text: + deleted hyphen in 'offertory-plate' + ... copper to the offertory plate.... + deleted hyphen in 'parlour-maid' + ... Mr. Hamlin's new parlourmaid ... + ... from the new parlourmaid ... + 'pollygammy' to 'polligammy' + ... that pretty pass, polligammy.... + added hyphen to ale-house + ... seen some nice lil' ale-house ... + ... takes a man to the ale-house?... + ... drive a man to the ale-house ... + added hyphen to back yard + ... out o' sight in my back-yard." + deleted hyphen in 'country-side' + ... William Saint scoured the countryside ... + + Other changes to text: + 'monagenarian' to 'nonagenarian' ... The nonagenarian displayed ... + 'omniverously' to 'omnivorously' ... the Parson read omnivorously... + 'Nomconformists' to 'Nonconformists' ... the Nonconformists gird ... + 'pallour' to 'pallor' ... seeming pallor in the ill-lit room ... + 'mind' to 'mine' ... I wouldn't let him black mine.... + 'exigesis' to 'exegesis' ... merely Biblical exegesis ... + 'fine' to 'time' ...In time, if Alfred donned khaki ... + 'sentenously' to 'sententiously' ... remarked sententiously that ... + 'immeasureably' to 'immeasurably' ... immeasurably multiplied ... + 'telgram' to 'telegram' ... what was in the telegram,... + deleted hyphen from 'middle-class' ... for middle class trippers ... + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUL OF SUSAN YELLAM*** + + +******* This file should be named 36428.txt or 36428.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/4/2/36428 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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