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Updated: May 12, 2025
Poor boy! I believe he sometimes wishes he had never won that embarrassing decoration." "What's his name?" "Val Stafford. Why do you remember him?" "Er yes, I do," said Lawrence. He took out his cigar case and turned from Laura to light a cigar. "I knew a lot of the Dorchesters. . . Amiable-looking, fair boy, wasn't he?" "Middle height, and rather sunburnt. But that description fits such dozens!
And Laura says he was out there when the Wintons were in the next bit of trench north of the Dorchesters. He was there when when you were wounded." Such was Val Stafford's modesty that in the family circle it was not in etiquette to refer in other terms to that famous occasion.
In the night when he was dying another chap in our regiment, that had been lying up all day between the lines with a bullet in his ribs, crawled across for him. The Boches opened fire but he got Dale off and started back. Three quarters of the way over they found a third casualty, a subaltern in the Dorchesters. This chap wasn't hurt but he was weeping with fear.
I'm not asking Val anything about himself, am I? Val can't possibly mind telling me about another man in another regiment. You eat your eggs, there's a good boy, before they get cold. Laura says the Dorchesters dined the Winchesters once when they were in billets. Was that when you and Mr. Hyde were there?" "Captain Hyde," Val corrected his young sister. "Yes, we both graced the festive board.
"Possibly," said Val. "Was he in the Dorchesters?" asked Rowsley much more interested than his brother, no doubt because he was not so hungry as Val, who was giving all his attention to his supper. "No, in the Winchesters," said Isabel. "Do I mean the Winchesters, Val? What was Major Clowes' old regiment?" "Clowes was in the Wintons." Isabel nodded. "Then so was the cousin.
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