A statue of Thrush Green’s famous son Nathaniel Patten has graced the village green for years, but little is actually known of him among present-day residents until an unexpected letter arrives. "For the fans, another deep dream of peace--in the doings of that Cotswold English village of Thrush Green, endearingly chronicled as civil neighbors enjoy little pleasures and major satisfactions. In this roughly 42nd tribute to utopian village life (Thrush Green, Fairacre, or Lulling), retired gentleman Harold Shoosmith- -who once in Africa had admired the mission school founded in 1892 by Nathaniel Patten, a Thrush Green native, and had caused a statue in his honor to be erected in Thrush Green--is thrilled when Vicar Charles Henstock receives word that a packet of letters from Patten has been found. Ah, the excitement, the flurry! A dinner party is planned for the man who found the letters and for a young woman who is a direct descendent of Patten's (they're both single--ah, how things work out!). There are plans for a joint celebration of both Patten's contributions and Thrush Green's own schoolhouse centenary. Along the way, there are also, of course, vibrations from former teachers Dorothy and Agnes, and contributions for the mission present-day are meager until.... Meanwhile: Winnie Bailey has an operation; Dotty Harmer is writing a book about her fierce schoolmaster father; and there's the usual hubbub at Christmas. A bedtime soother of remarkable potency for the following. Again, the illustrations by John S. Goodall have a neat, affectionate intimacy." Kirkus Reviews Miss Read (1913-2012) was the pseudonym of Mrs. Dora Saint, a former schoolteacher beloved for her novels of English rural life, especially those set in the fictional villages of Thrush Green and Fairacre. The first of these, Village School , was published in 1955, and Miss Read continued to write until her retirement in 1996. In the 1998, she was awarded an MBE, or Member of the Order of the British Empire, for her services to literature.  Celebrations at Thrush Green By Miss Read, John S. Goodall Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company Copyright © 1992 Miss Read All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-0-618-88443-8 Contents Title Page, Contents, Copyright, Dedication, Frontispiece, One Wet Day, The Search Begins, A Memorable Evening, Harold Is On The Trail, New Light On Old Times, Hard Weather, Comings and Goings, Plans Go Ahead, Getting Ready, Celebration, About the Author, Connect with HMH, CHAPTER 1 One Wet Day One wet November morning, Winnie Bailey stood at her bedroom window and surveyed the rain-drenched view of Thrush Green. Usually at this time of the morning, a little past nine o'clock, things were stirring. One or two late arrivals at the school across the green would be running in breathlessly. Percy Hodge's milk float would be making its slow way from house to house. A few housewives would be hurrying downhill to the shops in Lulling, baskets in hand. But today there was little movement. A wet umbrella passed below, its carrier hidden from Winnie's view. A duster flapped from an upstairs window of the Two Pheasants across the green, hard by the school, and two excited dogs cavorted by the deserted and dripping children's play area. Winnie Bailey had lived at Thrush Green for over fifty years, ever since she arrived as the bride of young Dr Bailey. He had died some years before, but Winnie stayed on in the house she loved, sharing it with Jenny, her friend, companion and maid. She could hear Jenny now, singing some unrecognizable tune as she washed up the breakfast things. And here she was, Winnie told herself briskly, supposed to be dusting bedrooms, and instead she was idling her time away gazing at the rain! She was about to turn to her duties when she saw a small black car moving decorously along the road opposite, skirting the Two Pheasants and the school and finally drawing up outside Harold Shoosmith's house. Surely, it was the rector's car, thought Winnie, peering again through the rain-spotted window, dusting forgotten. A small chubby man emerged from the driver's seat and hurried through the downpour to the shelter of the Shoosmiths' porch. The Reverend Charles Henstock, rector of Thrush Green and vicar of Lulling, was paying an early morning call on his old friend. Winnie took up her duster again, and speculated. 'Come in! Come in!' cried Harold. 'Good grief, man, haven't you got a raincoat?' 'I didn't think I'd need it,' replied Charles. 'Let's have your jacket,' said his host, stripping it from the rector's back and shaking it energetically. 'Isobel's away for two nights, in Sussex. Come into the kitchen, it's warmer.' The two men settled at the kitchen table. Outside the rain lashed at the window, and gurgled in the gutter. A pigeon sat hunched on the bird-table, presumably seeking shelter rather than food, raindrops dripping from the little roof above it. 'Coffee?'