Free Winter in Thrush Green by Miss Read

found consolation with Doctor Bailey's new junior partner.
    'What a long time since we've met, Ruth,' said Dimity, sitting down beside the girl. 'And how pretty you look in that pink blouse! I like the way you young things wear your blouses loose over your skirts or trousers. It's really most becoming. And I really believe you are putting on a little weight, my dear, which suits you so well.' She patted Ruth's knee encouragingly.
    'It's only to be expected, Dimity,' replied Ruth, smiling. 'You know we're looking forward to a baby at Christmas-rime. That's why I'm in this enormous smock. Nothing else fits!'
    Dimity's eyes grew round and she grew pink with pleasure and embarrassment.
    'How perfectly lovely, my dear! Do you know, I hadn't heard a word of it. Now isn't that extraordinary? But I do so hope the men didn't hear me making such thoughtless remarks to you/ She looked anxiously towards the other end of the room where the men stood in a cloud of blue tobacco smoke making an immense amount of noise.
    'Don't worry,' said Ruth. 'They're far too engrossed. Now, you must promise to be one of the very first to see the baby. I shall look forward to seeing you particularly.'
    Dimity nodded delightedly and, looking conspiratorial, went to see how the men were faring.
    ***
    'It was one of the reasons why I chose Thrush Green to live in,' Harold Shoosmith was saying. 'I've the greatest admiration for Nathaniel Patten, and to find a house for sale in his birthplace seemed too good a chance to miss.'

    'A wonderful person,' agreed the rector. The round blue eyes in his chubby face gazed up at his new parishioner's great height. The rector of Thrush Green bore a striking resemblance to the cherubs which decorated his church and his disposition was as child-like and innocent as theirs. He was a man blessed with true humility and warm with charity. From the top of his shining bald head to the tips of his small black shoes he radiated a happiness that disarmed all comers. Thrush Green was rightly proud of the Reverend Charles Henstock, and watched his tubby little figure traversing his parish, with much affection.
    'You know, of course,' said Harold Shoosmith, to the group at large, 'that it's the hundredth anniversary of Nathaniel's birth next March.'
    'I didn't know,' said Edward Young honestly.
    'Nor me,' said Doctor Lovell. 'Tell me, who was the old boy?'
    'Now that's quite shocking,' chided old Doctor Bailey laughingly. 'Nathaniel Patten is a public figure. He was a most zealous missionary. Am I right?' he appealed to Harold Shoosmith.
    'Indeed you are,' said he. 'He founded a wonderful mission station in the town where I worked overseas. They were making great plans for all kinds of festivities in March. They hope to add a wing to their hospital on the occasion.'
    'We really should do something ourselves,' said the rector, wrinkling his brow. 'I must confess I hadn't given it the thought I should, though I certainly intended to put a brief note in the parish magazine for that month.'
    'He was an amazingly fine person,' said Harold Shoosmith.
'It seems a pity if his anniversary goes by unnoticed in his birthplace. It won't elsewhere, I can assure you.'

    'We might consider putting up a small plaque,' suggested Edward Young. 'In the church perhaps, or on his house.' He looked suddenly thoughtful. 'If anyone knows which house he was born in,' he added doubtfully.
    'I think you'll find it is one of the cottages by "The Two Pheasants," ' said Harold Shoosmith. 'Doesn't the sexton live in one there somewhere?'
    'Indeed he does,' agreed the rector. 'I must find out more about Nathaniel Patten. It is shameful to know so little about Thrush Green's most distinguished son.'
    'I've collected a few notes about him,' said the newcomer. 'Call in any time and I'll let you have them. I do feel that it would be an excellent thing to remind Thrush Green of Nathaniel's place in the world. I should be very glad to do anything to help in the way of