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.