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THREE:Joseph Backfield was buried four days later. His body was carried to the church in a hay-waggon, drawn by the meek horses which had drawn his plough. Beside it walked Blackman, the only farm-hand at Odiam, in a clean smock, with a black ribbon tied to his hat. Five men from other farms acted with him as bearers��they were volunteers, for old Joseph had been popular in the neighbourhood, dealing sharply with no man.

FORE:For the first time they noticed something of the cracked falsetto of old age in his voice, generally so firm and ringing. Their hearts smote them, but the instinct of self-preservation was stronger than pity. They knew now for certain that if they stayed Odiam would devour them, or at best they would escape maimed and only half alive. Either they must go at once��in time, like Richard, or go in a few years��too late, like Caro. Besides, the war called to their young blood; they[Pg 412] thought of guns and bayonets, camp-fires and battlefields, glory and victory. Their youth called them, and even their father's game and militant old age could not silence its bugles and fifes. FORE:"Oh, landscapes mostly. That's mine"��and she pointed to a little water-colour sketch of a barn.