‘Fatigued! what are they over there?’ replied Lesbia solemnly, pointing with one hand to the ocean horizon, whence the sullen roar boomed on, while she laid the other on the head of her bicycle and led it out again. She was very stiff and lame, and was made more so by a mismount, catching in her saddle and tipping down on the bruised side; but she picked up and went at it again with a will, and after a wobble or two across the road, was bowling along at the same risky pace as before.
‘I believe that girl wishes she were in the battle herself,’ said Mrs Whyte, looking after her. ‘She might almost as well be.’
Arrived a third time in Stratton—it was now half-past two in the afternoon—she found that a further despatch was in the mouths of the criers. ‘Gallant Attack along the whole line! The Enemy repulsed from left of his position with Heavy Loss! The Battle continues!”
This raised the spirits of the very young people, and they gave vent to cheers. But to others the sobering reflection occurred that nothing could be counted upon so early in the day, and it was known that the British had to deal with a superior force.
Four o’clock. Another despatch cried. ‘Terrible Fighting and Severe Loss! Lord Redhill still maintains his position! The Reserve called up! The Battle continues!’
This looked very bad, Lesbia thought. Still maintains his position! Is that the fruit of the gallant attack along the whole line, and the partial victory on the right wing? Why call up the reserve? And never a word about Admiral St George and the fleet, although it was known that he had been engaged from the first! Bad! bad! Still these telegrams might be garbled by speculators. And giving two-pence to a boy to take charge of her bicycle, she moved restlessly about, talking with various groups, who, of course,
