T.C. and the
Wellingsford and Godbury Volunteers. I heard that the latter were
very anxious to fire off a feu de joie, but were restrained owing
to lack of precedent. The local fire-brigade in freshly burnished
helmets were to follow the procession of motor cars, and behind
them motor omnibuses with the nurses.
Marigold, although his attendance on me precluded him from taking
part in the parade of Volunteers, appeared in full grey uniform
with all his medals and the black patch of ceremony over his
eyeless socket. I must confess to regarding him with some
jealousy. I too should have liked to wear my decorations. If a man
swears to you that he is free from such little vanities, he is
more often than not a mere liar. But a broken-down old soldier,
although still drawing pay from the Government, is not allowed to
wear uniform (which I think is outrageous), and he can't go and
plaster himself with medals when he is wearing on his head a hard
felt hat. My envy of the martial looking Marigold is a proof that
my mind was not busied with sterner preoccupations. I ate my
breakfast with the serene conscience not only of a man who knows
he has done his duty, but of an organiser confident in the success
of his schemes.
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