Butler’s Pantry — 1918
The house was finally dark and quiet. The machine-gun-rat-a-tat of the clerk’s typewriter was at long last stilled. Captain Blackwell stared at the sheet of paper before him.
“18 August, 1918
“My dear Mrs. Culbertson,
“It is with heavy heart that I must inform you of the death of Private John William Culbertson today of the influenza. Pvt. Culbertson was….”
Was what? Blackwell had barely known the lad.
There was a brisk rap on the door. Blackwell turned to espy Mrs. Lowell, the manor’s housekeeper, holding a tray with tea and a few sandwiches.
“I thought you might want some refreshment, Captain, seeing how you’re working so hard and so late.”