"So, what's this about?" asked Elsie Hughes. It seemed that in her career as housekeeper, the word referee should be added to her job description. Daisy was red eyed and teary, Beryl red with fury. Elsie was sorely tempted to pour herself a glass of sherry. This was going to be stiff and difficult. Thankfully, she took the pot of tea with her. There was a cup, and Elsie poured herself a cup, and it was admitted that she took the tea with a rather unladylike slug.

"All right, Mrs. Patmore. Tell us." Elsie said.

"The War Office had written to Daisy telling her she was entitled to a widow's pension. But she doesn't want to take it." Beryl said in a huff.

"Why not, Daisy?" asked Elsie.

"I—I can't explain...but it wouldn't be fair on William."

"How so?" Elsie asked Daisy.

"I can't be false to a dead man," sniffed Daisy, the tears coming back.

"Oh, I'm sure William wouldn't want you to be alone forever. Has some other lad's eye caught yours?"

"No. No Mrs. Hughes. But—but...Wi—William and I married under different circumstances." Daisy blurted out. Elsie Hughes' eyes nearly went out of their sockets.

"Good heavens girl! Has he..." Elsie exclaimed and clamped her hand over her mouth. Daisy shook her head. "No! He hasn't...he hasn't done anything. But it's different."

"What is it about, then?" Elsie persevered.

"I—I am terribly fond of him, but I didn't love him."

Elsie felt that a blacksmith's anvil had fallen over her head.

"Well—well, not in the way he loves me." Daisy said, in a near whisper. Ah, Elsie thought. The crux of the matter. "So, in essence, you refused to apply for the pension because you felt it was dishonest?" Elsie patiently prodded Daisy, who nodded. "Yes—I wasn't too sure if I should, and part of me says I can, but I thought that it wouldn't be fair on William."

"Since Daisy was dithering, I applied for the pension on her behalf. And this miss here didn't like it at all." Beryl huffed again.

"I need time to think about it," Daisy said, in a hiccup.

Elsie, however, was gentler. In a strange way, she understood the girl, and her heart went out to the young widow. The war has made widows and orphans of many, she thought. And Daisy is one of them. Daisy wasn't technically young, she turned twenty-one on January. But to Elsie, Daisy seemed young. She looked young too. Any casual observer might take the girl for seventeen, since Daisy was small and delicately pretty. She wouldn't be surprised if another lad would pay court to her. Elsie sighed. William was like a son to her—such a dear, tender-hearted lad. He loved Daisy so much, that he wanted to provide for her, even after his death. She looked at Daisy again. The girl looked a little older than she did last year. Probably the deathbed wedding forced her to grow up.

"Well, Daisy, time isn't what His Majesty's government could give. I'm certain they would have to meet a certain deadline to make sure those who would benefit would receive the money in time."

Daisy gulped. Now she saw she was being a bit unreasonable. She would have to eat humble pie later on. "I see," she whispered.

"And Mrs. Patmore, thank you for acting on Daisy's behalf. One day she'll thank you for it," Elsie nodded at Beryl approvingly. "But certainly not this evening," Beryl sniffed rather indignantly. All her efforts and she would get this from Daisy!

"I suppose Daisy should apologise to Mrs. Patmore, there's a good girl."

Daisy sighed. Both women were right, as always. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Patmore," Daisy apologised meekly. "And...and thank you." To her surprise, the cook had tears in her eyes. "I suppose I was a bit hasty," she admitted. "But Mrs. Hughes and I, we want to know that you are taken care of. William asked us both to promise that."

"He did?" Daisy was surprised.

"Yes," Elsie chuckled. She thought that after a year, she could laugh about it now. "What's important, Daisy, is that he loved you so much. He said that he fell in love with you the day he walked on in your fourteenth birthday."

Daisy stared helplessly. Elsie continued. "And a few days before he died, William told me how he loved you. The day he went for the interview—that was your fourteenth birthday party, wasn't it?" Daisy nodded. "He told me that seeing you for the first time was like having a brick thrown at his head, and it clearly knocked him over." Elsie smiled at Daisy. "My dear child. There are many different ways of love. Maybe you do love him, but you just didn't know it." Daisy couldn't say anything. "Give yourself time to think about it."

"What about the pension?" Beryl was instantly practical.

"Well, it doesn't have to be in your hands all the time, Daisy," Elsie reflected. "Well, you could have an account at the post office. The checks could be in deposit, and you can get money when you need it," she concluded.

But Daisy was still a bit unwilling to digest this. "Let's...let's talk about this when the pension comes." Elsie nodded in agreement. "Agreed. But you'll think about it, won't you, Daisy?"

Daisy nodded, and exited Elsie's sitting room.

"Well, at least she's going to," Beryl said rather ominously, after Daisy was out of earshot, and closed the door of the sitting room.

"Now, now, Beryl." Elsie giggled.