Arthur Pitts of Hermitage died that autumn and so did Marlowe, the sexton, whose two boys had been killed, one in France and one at sea. Sam and Joannie Potter lost their youngest, a baby of eighteen months, and Cissie Potter, now Cissie Bellchamber, lost the child sired by Jem, the Bideford Goliath. Before that, however, there was a brief season of hope, when the country rang with news of the collapse of the famous Hindenburg Line and it really did begin to look as if the end might be round the corner. Then, just as the harvest was being gathered in, the Valley folk noticed a stricken look on the face of the Squiress and could only suppose that she had received confirmation of Squire’s death and, for some reason, was loath to broadcast the news. They were not long in discovering the truth. The latest telegram to reach the Valley concerned not the Squire but his protégé, the boy whom they remembered him treating as a son from the days of his first coming among them, and although most of them were fond of Ikey they were none the less slightly relieved, for there was still hope that Squire would turn up, just as old Smut had returned from the dead a year or so ago.
