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?"