The Long Walk continued . . . .

Next morning dad said, "I think we will call on a man I know. He once said he would help me if the need arose."

I cannot recall what the man's name was. I believe it was 'Day' so shall I call him Day, it matters not.

We walked around a little until dinner time was passed and then made our way to Mr Day's house. A tap on the door to be opened by the man himself.

"Good afternoon, sir. I am Joseph Beeson who worked here for my uncle, the village Blacksmith."

"Yes, I remember you."

I was sent into the garden while the two men exchanged views.

Soon Mr Day called out, "Albert, come into tea."

"Wash you hands in the kitchen."

A plain tea was set of good food and I was encouraged to eat, drink, and be merry.

My dad delayed leaving the house as long as possible. He had his reasons.

"Where are you staying tonight?" said Mr Day. Dad said:

"With friends at Abbots Langley."

Away we went, passing 'The Griffin Inn' through the meadow, passing Kings Langley station toward Abbots Langley.

Our friends were the birds and the beautiful sunset, our bed a partly built haystack. It began to dawn on me what my dad meant when he told Mr Day we were 'staying with friends'.

Soon we were fast asleep with our boots off.

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