dark bright hazel eyes that shone so lovingly upon his mother were the same colour as her own, and his hair grew as crisply. More open in his affection than her daughters, Frank charmed Mary by his frequent hugs and kisses, and many a smack was left unadministered because the knowing young rogue disarmed his mother with his blandishments.
'Make the most of him while he's yours,' observed Francis, watching the toddler on his mother's lap. 'He'll break plenty of hearts, I reckon, before he goes off to settle down and leave you.'
'You won't leave your mum, will you, my love?' said Mary, dancing him up and down.
Although she had learnt of the advent of the baby with mixed feelings, the joy which she felt in this boy lay largely in the feeling of future security which he brought, although Mary herself was unconscious of this. The girls would, marry, Francis might die first: a son was an insurance against want and loneliness, a joy to her now and a comfort for her old age.
When, in the autumn of 1899, the Boer War broke out, she looked upon her three-year-old and gave thanks that he was so young. Several young men from Beech Green had joined the army to escape from hard times and to seek adventure. Some were now in South Africa and Mary knew the anxiety which gnawed at the hearts of their mothers. She prayed that her Frank would never have to endure the dangers of war, nor she the heartbreak of those who wait for news.
Christmas that year was a sad one, overshadowed by the reverses of the army in South Africa. At the manor, the Evans family were dressed in heavy mourning for the eldest son, who had been shot from Iris horse whilst attempting to relieve Ladysmith with General Buller's forces. The village was stunned. This seemed to bring the war very near, and people concerned themselves with the direction of the hostilities with real anxiety. Should General Buller have suggested to White that he surrendered Ladysmith? It seemed a terrible tiling for an Englishman to think of giving in. But then look at the loss of lives? Look at poor Algy Evans and the Willett boy from Fairacre and the Brown twins from Caxley! So the tongues wagged, and wagged still faster when they heard that Buller had been replaced by Lord Roberts who had lost his only son in the same battle that took their own Algy Evans.
Queen Victoria was reported as saying at this time: 'Please understand that there is no one depressed in
this
house. We are not interested in the possibilities of defeat: they do not exist.' These brave words were heartening, but did not completely quell the fears that shook her less heroic subjects' hearts.
When Dolly visited the Davis' cottage one day, just after Christmas in 1899, she found it clamorous with dismay. Albert, the eldest son, had just announced that his New Year resolution was to join the army. Some of the family took his part, but his mother hotly attacked him. Dolly watched amazed the change in this smiling little Jenny-wren of a woman to a blazing fury.
'It's always what
you
wants,' she flared at the white, silent boy. 'Thinks yourself a hero, all dressed up in this newfangled khaki to catch the girls' eyes! What about us? How's the family going to manage with your wages cut off?'
The boy began to explain haltingly, but was overborne. Dolly's heart bled for him as his mother's wrath gradually evaporated into self-pity.
'And what about a mother's feelings? Here I've brought you up from a baby, sat up nights when you was ailing, give you all you wanted, and what do I get in return? You fair break my heart, you do. You can't love me if you treats me like this.' She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and mopped the hot tears that coursed down her face. It was the old man of the house who opposed her most bravely. As he shook his blackgloved fist at her, his roars overcame the furious sobbing.
'You let 'un go. He's old enough to know what 'e wants, and you should be proud he's got the guts to want to fight. Don't
'Make the most of him while he's yours,' observed Francis, watching the toddler on his mother's lap. 'He'll break plenty of hearts, I reckon, before he goes off to settle down and leave you.'
'You won't leave your mum, will you, my love?' said Mary, dancing him up and down.
Although she had learnt of the advent of the baby with mixed feelings, the joy which she felt in this boy lay largely in the feeling of future security which he brought, although Mary herself was unconscious of this. The girls would, marry, Francis might die first: a son was an insurance against want and loneliness, a joy to her now and a comfort for her old age.
When, in the autumn of 1899, the Boer War broke out, she looked upon her three-year-old and gave thanks that he was so young. Several young men from Beech Green had joined the army to escape from hard times and to seek adventure. Some were now in South Africa and Mary knew the anxiety which gnawed at the hearts of their mothers. She prayed that her Frank would never have to endure the dangers of war, nor she the heartbreak of those who wait for news.
Christmas that year was a sad one, overshadowed by the reverses of the army in South Africa. At the manor, the Evans family were dressed in heavy mourning for the eldest son, who had been shot from Iris horse whilst attempting to relieve Ladysmith with General Buller's forces. The village was stunned. This seemed to bring the war very near, and people concerned themselves with the direction of the hostilities with real anxiety. Should General Buller have suggested to White that he surrendered Ladysmith? It seemed a terrible tiling for an Englishman to think of giving in. But then look at the loss of lives? Look at poor Algy Evans and the Willett boy from Fairacre and the Brown twins from Caxley! So the tongues wagged, and wagged still faster when they heard that Buller had been replaced by Lord Roberts who had lost his only son in the same battle that took their own Algy Evans.
Queen Victoria was reported as saying at this time: 'Please understand that there is no one depressed in
this
house. We are not interested in the possibilities of defeat: they do not exist.' These brave words were heartening, but did not completely quell the fears that shook her less heroic subjects' hearts.
When Dolly visited the Davis' cottage one day, just after Christmas in 1899, she found it clamorous with dismay. Albert, the eldest son, had just announced that his New Year resolution was to join the army. Some of the family took his part, but his mother hotly attacked him. Dolly watched amazed the change in this smiling little Jenny-wren of a woman to a blazing fury.
'It's always what
you
wants,' she flared at the white, silent boy. 'Thinks yourself a hero, all dressed up in this newfangled khaki to catch the girls' eyes! What about us? How's the family going to manage with your wages cut off?'
The boy began to explain haltingly, but was overborne. Dolly's heart bled for him as his mother's wrath gradually evaporated into self-pity.
'And what about a mother's feelings? Here I've brought you up from a baby, sat up nights when you was ailing, give you all you wanted, and what do I get in return? You fair break my heart, you do. You can't love me if you treats me like this.' She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and mopped the hot tears that coursed down her face. It was the old man of the house who opposed her most bravely. As he shook his blackgloved fist at her, his roars overcame the furious sobbing.
'You let 'un go. He's old enough to know what 'e wants, and you should be proud he's got the guts to want to fight. Don't
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