They walked back to Henry’s with me, where my pride and hospitality got the better of my judgment.
Wouldn’t they come in and have a little cordial before going along?
Certainly!
We went inside—the cordials were ordered—I laid down three francs.
“Four francs, fifty, Mr. Rice,” said George, who had come to know me by name from having served me my breakfast in bed.
I picked up the three francs, put them in my pocket and said, “Please put it on my bill, George.” It is really terrible to be apparently well-to-do and not have any money to do it with.
Hillyer and his friend said “Good-night,” and I promptly went to bed. It was a little past midnight I think and I had been fast asleep for some time, back at Verdun with the bursting shells and scurrying and scurrilous rats, when I suddenly became conscious of the fact that a firm hand was resting on each one of my shoulders. I awoke with a start and there stood Ned Townsend smiling broadly.
“Get up,” he said. “Don’t you know it is your turn out to post?” At the foot of the bed stood “Red” Day. They had just reached Paris and informed me they had come on from the front to cheer me up a bit. “Farney” was with them too.
Why say I was glad to see them all? They sat on the side of the bed and told me about the banquet at Bar le Duc and Ned told me that “Red” and “Farney” were slated for the Croix de Guerre, which was very good news.
Townsend had received the Croix de Guerre a long time before.