lanting, neatly thatched
eave, while below ran a little shelf on which there were three vases
filled with fresh flowers.

Timmy Tosswill struck a match and held it up, far above his little head.
And Radmore saw flash out the gilded words:--

ROLL OF HONOUR, 1914-1918.
PASS, FRIEND. ALL'S WELL.

The first name was "Thomas Ingleton," then came "Mons, 22nd August,
1914." Immediately below, bracketed together, came "Peter and Paul
Cobbett," followed, in the one case, by the date October 15, 1915, and in
the other, November 19, 1915. And then, in the wavering light, there
seemed to start out another name and date.

Radmore uttered an exclamation of sharp pain, almost of anger. He did
not want the child to see his shocked, convulsed face, but he said
quickly:--"Not George? Surely, Timmy, not _George_?"

Timmy answered, "Then you didn't know? Dad and Betty thought you did, but
Mum thought that perhaps you didn't."

"Why wasn't I told?" asked Radmore roughly. "I should have thought,
Timmy, that you might have told me when you answered my first letter."

He took the box of matches out of Timmy's hand, and himself lighting a
match, went up quite close to the list of names. Yes, it was there right
enough.

"When did he, George, volunteer?" he asked.

"On the seventh of August, two days after the War began," said Timmy
simply. "He was awfully afraid they wouldn't take him. There was such a
rush, you know. But they did take him, and the doctor who saw him
undressed, naked, you know, told Daddy"--the child hesitated a moment,
then repeated slowly, proudly--"that George was one of the finest
specimens of young manhood he had ever seen."

"And when did he go out?"

"He went out very soon; and we used to have such jolly times when he came
back, because, you know, he did come back three times altogether, and the
second time--Betty hadn't gone to France then--they all went up to London
together and had a splendid time. I didn't go; Mum didn't think it worth
the expense that I should go, though George wanted me to."

Hardly conscious that he was doing so, Radmore turned round, and began
walking quietly on along the dark road, with Timmy trotting by his side.
"What I believed," he muttered, half to himself, "was that George was
safe in India, and probably not even allowed to volunteer."

"George never went to India," said Timmy soberly. "Betty wasn't well, I
think, and as they were twins, he didn't like to go so far aw