II
Twenty-four hours elapsed.
During this time Upworthy celebrated the return of a hero, for as such the fathers of the hamlet regarded John Exton. Much ale, some of it pre-war strength, was drunk in his honour. At the Chandos Arms, upon the afternoon following, the gaffers toasted him again and again. He had to tell the tale of his adventures and misadventures in Flanders and France. Everybody knew that he was engaged to Agatha.
It was well after five when John escaped from his entertainers and returned to Timothy’s cottage. Crossing the green he noticed that the sky was thunderously overcast. Agatha hurried out of the cottage as he approached it. All trace of anger and disappointment had vanished. She greeted her lover delightfully.
“I heard the cheers, Johnnie. I’m ever so proud of you.”
He nodded modestly.
“I asked ’em not to follow me because of your aunt. How is she?”
“A bit better, we fancy. Mr. Grimshaw is with her. He sent me out for a whiff of air. Perhaps he saw you crossing the green.”
John pointed to the tree and its comfortable encircling bench. He sat down, fanning his heated brow with his cap.
“Sultry, ain’t it? I say, Aggie, guess what bucks me most?”