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Updated: May 24, 2025
Higgins has joined the army, and so has Day's eldest boy, while you have been going on like a confounded pro-German." "You've no right to say that, Major Meredyth." "Not when you go over to Godbury" the surging metropolis of the County some fifteen miles off "and tell a pack of fools to strike because this is a capitalists' war?
But when you are not sure whether it is a fact or not, what are you to do? Perhaps I had better narrate what happened and tell you afterwards why I hesitate. Marigold had driven me over to Godbury, where I had business connected with a County Territorial Association, and we were returning home. It was a moist, horrible, depressing August day. A slimy, sticky day.
Everything had been finally settled. The station hung with flags and inscriptions. A guard of honour and a band in the station-yard, with a fleet of motor cars in waiting. Troops lining the route from station to Town Hall. More troops in the decorated Market Square, including the Godbury School O.T.C. and the Wellingsford and Godbury Volunteers.
Betty, who lived on the Godbury Road, was quite familiar with Flowery End. Mid-June did its best to justify the name.
Flowery End was the poetic name of the mean little row of red-brick houses inhabited exclusively by Mrs. Tufton and her colleagues at the mills. To get to it you turn off the High Street by the Post Office, turn to the right down Avonmore Avenue, and then to the left. There you find Flowery End, and, fifty yards further on, the main road to Godbury crosses it at right angles.
Sir Anthony Fenimore in his civic capacity, a staff-officer with red tabs, a wounded soldier, an elderly, eloquent gentleman from recruiting headquarters in London, and one or two nondescripts, including myself, were on the platform. A company of a County Territorial Battalion and the O.T.C. of the Godbury Grammar School gave a semblance of military display.
We must wait for assistance. When I had been transferred into the vehicle of a passing Samaritan, it was time enough for the manhandling. Fate brought the Samaritan very quickly. A car coming from Godbury tooted violently, then slowed down, stopped, and from it jumped Leonard Boyce.
So did the munitions workers of Godbury. This, of course, upset our plans, which had all to be reconsidered from the beginning. "Who is giving the reception?" cried Lady Fenimore, who could stand upon her dignity as well as anybody. "The County or Wellingsford? I presume it's Wellingsford, and, so long as I am Mayoress, that dreadful Laleham woman will have to take a back seat."
It was for the Committee to make the necessary arrangements. We corresponded far and wide in order to obtain municipal precedents. We had interviews with the military and railway authorities. We were in constant communication with the local Volunteer Training Corps; with the Godbury Volunteers and the Godbury School O.T.C., who both desired to take a part in the great event.
"There's nothing decent nearer than Godbury," he said. "Twenty-three miles. There's an inn at Hurley of a sort. There's no town there to speak of, you know. It's only a junction." "Oh! well, I'll risk the inn at Hurley for one night," I said. "What about your things?" he asked. "Blast!" was my only comment. "Rummest go I ever heard of," Banks interjected thoughtfully.
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