The family all appeared downstairs by half past eight, except Agnes who took longer to dress and was usually some minutes late; Teddy and Molly had been out for an hour, she among the rabbits, he to the silver foxes. Teddy was twenty-two and lived at home. Peter was still at Oxford.
They breakfasted together in the morning room. Mrs. Last sat at one end of the table; her husband at the other; there was a constant traffic from hand to hand to and fro between them of cups, plate, honey jars and correspondence.
Mrs. Last said, “Molly, you have rabbit feed on your head again.”
“Oh well, I shall have to tidy up anyway before the jamboree.”
Mr. Last said, “Jamboree. Is nothing sacred to you children?”
Teddy said, “Another casualty at the stinkeries. That little vixen we bought from the people at Oakhampton got her brush bitten off during the night. Must have got it through the wire into the next cage. Tricky birds, foxes.”
Agnes came next; she was a neat, circumspect child of twelve, with large, grave eyes behind her goggles. She kissed her father and mother and said, “I'm sorry if I'm late.”
“If you're late …” said Mr. Last tolerantly.
“How long will the show last?” asked Teddy. “I've got to run over to Bayton and get some more rabbits for the foxes. Chivers says he's got about fifty waiting for me. We can't shoot enough here. Greedy little beggars.”
“It will be all over by half past eleven. Mr. Tendril isn't going to preach a sermon. It's just as well really. He's got it into his head that cousin Tony died in Afghanistan.”
“There's a letter here from Cousin Brenda. She's very sorry but she can't get down for the dedication.”
“Oh.”
There was a general silence.
“She says that Jock has a three line whip for this afternoon.”
“Oh.”
“She could have come without him,” said Molly.
“She sends her love to us all and to Hetton.”
There was another pause.
“Well I think it's a jolly good thing,” said Molly. “She couldn't show much widowly grief. It didn't take her long to get hitched up again.”
“Molly.”
“And you know you think the same.”
“I will not allow you to talk like that about Cousin Brenda, whatever we think. She had a perfect right to marry again and I hope she and Mr. Grant-Menzies are very happy.”
“She was always jolly decent to us when she used to live here,” said Agnes.
“Well I should hope so,” said Teddy. “After all it's our place.”
The day was still fine at eleven o'clock, though the wind had got up, fluttering the papers on which the order of the service was printed and once threatening to unveil the memorial prematurely. Several relatives were present, Lady St. Cloud, Aunt Frances, and the family of impoverished Lasts who had not profited by Tony's disappearance. All the household and estate servants were there, several tenants and most of the village; there were also a dozen or so neighbours, among them Colonel Inch — Richard Last and Teddy had hunted regularly that season with the Pigstanton. Mr. Tendril conducted the brief service in his clear, resonant voice that was clearly audible above the blustering wind. When he pulled the cord the flag fell away from the memorial without mishap.
It was a plain monolith of local stone, inscribed:
ANTHONY LAST OF HETTON
EXPLORER
BORN AT HETTON, 1902
DIED IN BRAZIL, 1934
When the local visitors had left and the relatives had gone into the house to be shown the new labour saving arrangements, Richard Last and Lady St. Cloud remained for a short time on the gravel.
“I'm glad we put that up,” he said. “You know, I should have never thought of it, if it had not been for a Mrs. Beaver. She wrote. to me as soon as the news of Tony's death was published. I didn't know her at the time. Of course we knew very few of Tony's friends.” .
“It was her suggestion?”
“Yes, she said that as one of Tony's closest friends she knew he would wish to have some monument at Hetton. She was most considerate — even offering to arrange with the contractors for it. Her own plans were more ambitious. She proposed that we should have the Chapel redecorated as a chantry. But I think this is what he would have preferred. The stone comes from one of our own quarries and was cut by the estate workmen.”
“Yes, I think he would have preferred this,” said Lady St. Cloud.
Teddy had chosen Galahad for his bedroom. He disengaged himself from the family and hurried up to change out of his dark clothes. Within ten minutes he was in his car driving to Chivers' farm. Before luncheon he was back with the rabbits. They were skinned and tied round the feet into four bundles.
“Coming to the stinkeries?” he asked Agnes.
“No, I'm looking after Cousin Frances. She got rather on mother's nerves through crabbing the new boiler.” The silver fox farm was behind the stables; a long double row of wire cages; they had wire floors covered with earth and cinders to prevent the animals digging their way out. They lived in pairs; some were moderately tame but it was unwise to rely upon them. Teddy and Ben Hacket — who helped with them — had been badly bitten more than once that winter. They ran up to the doors when they saw Teddy come with the rabbits. The vixen who had lost her brush seemed little the worse for her accident.
Teddy surveyed his charges with pride and affection. It was by means of them that he hoped one day to restore Hetton to the glory that it had enjoyed in the days of his Cousin Tony.
THE END.