shly burnished helmets were to follow the procession of motor cars,
and behind them motor omnibuses with the nurses.

Marigold, although his attendance on me precluded him from taking part
in the parade of Volunteers, appeared in full grey uniform with all his
medals and the black patch of ceremony over his eyeless socket. I must
confess to regarding him with some jealousy. I too should have liked to
wear my decorations. If a man swears to you that he is free from such
little vanities, he is more often than not a mere liar. But a
broken-down old soldier, although still drawing pay from the
Government, is not allowed to wear uniform (which I think is
outrageous), and he can't go and plaster himself with medals when he is
wearing on his head a hard felt hat. My envy of the martial looking
Marigold is a proof that my mind was not busied with sterner
preoccupations. I ate my breakfast with the serene conscience not only
of a man who knows he has done his duty, but of an organiser confident
in the success of his schemes. The abominable weather of snows and
tempests from which we had suffered for weeks had undergone a change.
It was a mild morning brightened by a pale convalescent sort of sun,
and there was just a little hope of spring in the air. I felt content
with everything and everybody.

About eleven o'clock the buzz of the library telephone disturbed my
comfortable perusal of the newspaper. I wheeled towards the instrument.
Sir Anthony was speaking.

"Can you come round at once? Very urgent. The car is on its way to you."

"What's the matter?" I asked.

He could not tell me over the wires. I was to take it that my presence
was urgently needed.

"I'll come along at once," said I.

Some hitch doubtless had occurred. Perhaps the War Office (whose ways
were ever weird and unaccountable) had forbidden the General to take
part in such a village-pump demonstration. Perhaps Lady Laleham had
insisted on her husband coming down like a uniformed Lord Lieutenant on
the fold. Perhaps the hero himself was laid up with measles.

With the lightest heart I drove to Wellings Park. Marigold, straight as
a ramrod, sitting in front by the chauffeur. As soon as Pardoe, the
butler, had brought out my chair and Marigold had settled me in it, Sir
Anthony, very red and flustered, appeared and, shaking me nervously by
the hand, said without preliminary greeting:

"Come into the library."

He, I think, had come from the morning room o