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Updated: May 6, 2025
For that night a meeting at Mr. Grenfel's home in West Kensington had long been planned. He lived not far from the street in which both Harry and Dick lived. And, as the party broke up, on the other side of Putney Bridge, Dick, voicing the general feeling, asked a question. "Are we to come tonight, sir?" he said. "With this news ?" "Yes yes, indeed," said the scoutmaster.
And there seems to be an idea that the Germans are certain to strike at France through Belgium. I may not be here very long I may have to turn over the troop to another scoutmaster. So I want to have a long talk to-night." There was a dismayed chorus. "What? You going away, sir? Why?" But Harry did not join. He saw the quiet blaze in John Grenfel's eyes, and he thought he knew.
What are you going to do, boy? Going over to Grenfel's, aren't you ?" "Yes, father," said Harry. "All right. Get home early. Good-night!" A good many of the boys were already there when Dick and Harry reached Grenfel's house. The troop the Forty-second, of London was a comparatively small one, having only three patrols.
Old Draygon Grenfel's fortune had been divided among his three sons and herself, for she had been her grandfather's favourite, and she was the only grandchild to whom he had left more than a small reminder of his existence.
She remembered the quick, protecting hands which had wrapped her round with Jasmine Grenfel's cloak, and the great arms in which she had rested, the danger over. "There can't be much wrong with a nature like his, though Adrian hates him so. But, of course, Adrian would.
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