Elizabeth was frugal, but resolute, with the Squire's money. She had
leave to spend. But she would not abuse her power; and all through
her work she was conscious of a queer remorseful gratitude towards
the man in whose name she was acting.
Then she bicycled to the School, where a group of girls whom she
had captured for the land were waiting to see her. Their uniforms
were lying ready on one of the schoolroom tables. She helped the
girls to put them on, laughing, chatting, admiring--ready besides
with a dozen homely hints on how to keep well--how to fend for
themselves, perhaps in a lonely cottage--how to get on with the
farmer--above all, how to get on with the farmer's wife. Her
sympathy made everything worth while--put colour and pleasure into
this new and strange adventure, of women going out to break up and
plough and sow the ancient land of our fathers, which the fighting
men had handed over to them. Elizabeth decked the task with honour,
so that the girls in their khaki stood round her at last glowing,
though dumb!--and felt themselves--as she bade them feel--the
comrades-in-arms of their sweethearts and their brothers.
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