Lady Churchill's Rosebud Wristlet No. 20 Read Online Free PDF Page A

Prince of Wales. A Snorklepine in the Lords Gallery at Parliament. Then, a portrait of the young lancer again, the Snorklepine sitting beside him.
    "Who's that?” she asked.
    "I ..... forget,” said the Snorklepine, his voice trailing off. “It was a long time ago, and one tries so hard to remember, but ....."
    "But?"
    "There was a war. In Africa. One tries to do one's best, you know. End of slavery, teach the Boers a lesson about fair play, but .....” And the Snorklepine broke down, sobbing quietly into his robe as he curled up.
    "I'm sorry,” she said, feeling uncomfortable. “I'll leave you alone now."
    "I did my best,” the Snorklepine called out through its tears after her. “He didn't run with the others. He knew what to do. I did my best. When they ran, he stayed ."
    That night, Death came for the Snorklepine. He wore a fashionable suit of black, as was his custom, and he held in his right hand a long ebony cane, gold at the handle, bleached bone at the tip.
    The Snorklepine was alone in the guest room that had been set aside for him, miserably flipping through his collection of old newspaper clippings.
    "Good evening,” said Death. “I promised you I would find you, and now I have. If you will kindly come with me?"
    The Snorklepine turned with a start and adjusted his pince-nez.
    "I do not wish to go with you, sir."
    "You are the last of your kind. You are forgotten, little creature. You do not belong in this world. Come with me."
    Again, the Snorklepine adjusted his spectacles. “Sir, I do not wish to go."
    "There is nothing for you here. You are a fantasy, a dream. The things you and your forebears worked for are long dead and gone. Only monuments remain, and only the birds acknowledge them. Everything you loved is gone."
    The Snorklepine looked very gravely at Death. “That, sir, is not the point."
    "So you say.” Then, almost conversationally, “You know, that boy died because of what you taught him."
    "I beg your pardon, sir?” The Snorklepine's tiny body shook with constrained rage.
    "All of your nonsense about duty and honour and fighting to the last man that you filled his young head with. You might as soon hand a boy a loaded revolver and tell him to place it against his head as send him off to war with notions like that. It wasn't even his fight."
    "It was everyone's fight,” said the Snorklepine, angrily. “Britannia called him, and he went. I never told him to be a hero, and I certainly never told him to die. That was the choice he made when the time came. He died for his friends."
    "They certainly weren't interested in staying to die for him."
    "That is their shame, not his. He was not forgotten, though."
    "A medal named after a Queen who died before the war was over? Who never even visited all the corners of her empire? A mention in a few old musty books? What kind of memory is that? Tell me, please do."
    "I remember him,” said the Snorklepine. “Not just when he was brave and true and held the line, but when he was a boy and had nightmares and needed a bedtime story, and when he played with his tin soldiers and needed a second-in-command. I remember how proud his father and mother were of him when he took a first in school. I remember when he joined his regiment, and how proud he was to serve, and how his mother cried and how his father begged him to reconsider. I have never forgotten."
    "A dead thing remembering other dead things, now all dust. Come with me. It is time for you to leave all of this behind."
    "Sir, with respect, I will not go .” The Snorklepine's eyes flashed defiantly. “There are still older laws and higher powers in this world than you, and although they owe me and mine many debts, none of us has called them to account. Touch me at your peril, sir. There is the strength of an Empire in me yet.” And the Snorklepine seemed to grow bigger and older as he spoke, and his voice caused the room to shake. “I warn you sir, there is the strength of an Empire in me