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."