It was the morning of the 18th of August—exactly a fortnight, that is, since England’s declaration of war on Germany. Coming down to breakfast, Mrs. Otway suddenly realised what a very, very long fortnight this had been—the longest fortnight in her life as a grown-up woman. She felt what she very seldom was, depressed, and as she went into the dining-room she was sorry to see that there was a sullen look on old Anna’s face.
“Good morning!” she said genially in German. And in reply the old servant, after a muttered “Good morning, gracious lady,” went on, in a tone of suppressed anger, “Did you not tell me that the English were not going to fight my people? That it was all a mistake?”
Mrs. Otway looked surprised. “Yes, I feel sure that no soldiers are going abroad,” she said quietly. “The Dean says that our Army is to be kept at home, to defend our shores, Anna.”
She spoke rather coldly; there was a growing impression in Witanbury that the Germans might try to invade England, and behave here as they were behaving in Belgium. Though Mrs. Otway and Rose tried to believe that the horrible stories of burning and murder then taking place in Flanders were exaggerated, still some of them were very circumstantial and, in fact, obviously true.
Languidly, for there never seemed any real news nowadays, she opened wide her newspaper. And then her heart gave a leap! Printed right across the page, in huge black letters, ran the words:
“BRITISH EXPEDITIONARY FORCE IN FRANCE.”
And underneath, in smaller type:
“Landed at Boulogne without a Single Casualty.”
Then Major Guthrie had been right and the Dean wrong? And this was why Anna had spoken as she had done just now, in that rather rude and injured tone?
Later in the morning, when she met the Dean, he showed himself, as might have been expected, very frank and genial about the matter.