that he himself was no longer a schoolboy, but a man grown.
"What," said he, "are you going to tell mother?"
"I shall tell her that I was too late," said the Reverend Mr. Eaton. "I shall tell her that you had already enlisted. If I told her the truth, there would be no living with her . . . You are going to find that, in this world, a great many honest men have to tell a great many little lies for the sake of peace. I hate lies, John. I hope I do. But I hate some things worse."
Edward remembers that the telegraph agent himself paid them a visit, that he came in a buggy drawn by a white horse, and that he brought a yellow envelope for Dear Mother, and that that was how she got the word that brother John had become a sailor.
Then father came, and with him the first real snowfall of the year. He was not allowed to come into the house until Martha, the housemaid, had brushed the snow from his hat and shoulders and from his shoes. He submitted very patiently to this process. He looked tired, and it didn't seem as if he wanted to come into the house.
There wasn't much said about John in Edward's hearing. Only this:
