“I knew he was bound to be one of the first,” said Mrs. Bunce triumphantly. “Why, he’ve a-been out there ever since the war broke out. Two year and seven month he’ve a-been there--and the hardships he’s been through, and the fightin’ he’s done! There, I can’t think how ever the Government had the heart to keep en out so long.” “There’s others what have been out jist same as he have,” returned her neighbour plaintively. “My Jan now--such a good boy as he be, too!--well, he’ve a-been out there months and months, and he’ve a-been in hospital!” “As for fightin’,” put in the shrewd-faced little man who formed the third party to the discussion, and whose opinion carried weight in the neighbourhood, for his vocation of carrier enabled him to pick up many items of news during his daily round, “as for fightin’, Mrs. Bunce, I don’t mean to make little o’ your husband, but there bain’t nothin’ wonderful about him doin’ a lot o’ fightin’. They all done that--’twas what they were sent out for, and not a bit more credit to any of ’em nor for me to go joggin’ along behind the wold horse here.” Both women reddened, and turned upon him angrily. “If ye do think such things, ye did ought to be ashamed to say ’em,” cried Mrs. Andrews. “’Eroes--’tis what they be every man of ’em, Mr. Bright; and you did ought to know it, seein’ as ’twas wrote up plain over the very Corn Exchange the day as peace was declared. ‘All Honour to Our ’Eroes,’ it said, in them little coloured lamps so ’andsome as it could be; and bain’t there a song about ‘they’re ’eroes every one’?” “And I’m sure ye can’t say,” chimed in little Mrs. Bunce, nodding her curly head emphatically, “as it be the same thing for a man to sit snug in his cart behind the quietest old harse in Darset as it is to leave your wife and your home and--and everything, and to go riskin’ your life among Boers and Blacks in them wild parts out abroad.” “E-es,” agreed her neighbour, making common cause with her against the enemy, “e-es, indeed, Mrs. Bunce. And your little boy wasn’t so much as born when his dada was took away, was he? Many a time, I dare say, you did think to yourself as he’d never see the face of his child. I d’ ’low he thought the same hisself goin’ off, poor fellow! Ye’ll agree that was a bit hard on the man, Mr. Bright, so little credit as ye be willin’ to allow our soldiers. Ye’ll agree ’twas hard on the man to go off, leavin’ his missus to get through her trouble alone, and the child the first child, too, mind ye.” “If it had been the tenth you wouldn’t pity him so much,” said the carrier, with a dry chuckle. “There’s some as don’t think so much o’ them things. Jim Marshall, now--says I to Jim t’other day, ‘Jim,’ I says, ‘I hear you’ve got an increase to your family’; and poor Jim, he looks at me and says, ‘E-es,’ he says, ‘more hardship’.” Chuckling sardonically, he gathered up his reins and jogged on again, the women looking after him with indignant faces.