"There's our Shrine," he exclaimed.
"If you'll give me the box of matches, I'll strike some while you look at
the names."
Radmore stared up to where Timmy pointed, but, for a moment or two, he
could see nothing. Then, gradually, there emerged against the high hedge
a curious-looking wooden panel protected by a slanting, 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.
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