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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wee Macgreegor Enlists, by J. J. Bell
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Wee Macgreegor Enlists
+
+Author: J. J. Bell
+
+Release Date: May 5, 2004 [EBook #12269]
+Last updated: July 22, 2011
+Last updated: May 5, 2012
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WEE MACGREEGOR ENLISTS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines
+
+
+
+
+WEE MACGREEGOR ENLISTS
+
+
+By
+
+
+J.  J.  BELL
+
+
+
+1916
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+MY WIFE
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+ CHAP.
+
+     I ARMS AND THE MAID
+    II BREAKING IT GENTLY
+   III FIRST BLOOD
+    IV THE RING
+     V IN UNIFORM
+    VI MRS. McOSTRICH ENTERTAINS
+   VII WILLIE STANDS UP
+  VIII CORRESPONDENCE
+    IX THE FAT GIRL
+     X THE ALARM
+    XI AN INVITATION
+   XII A TEA-PARTY
+  XIII MISS TOD RETURNS
+   XIV AUNT PURDIE INTERVENES
+    XV THE FAT GIRL AGAIN
+   XVI CONSCIENCE AND A COCOA-NUT
+  XVII 'FONDEST LOVE FROM MAGGIE'
+ XVIII PITY THE POOR PARENTS!
+   XIX A SERIOUS REVERSE
+    XX THE REAL THING AT LAST
+   XXI 'HULLO, GLESCA HIELANDERS!
+  XXII NO HERO, YET HAPPY
+
+
+
+
+ARMS AND THE MAID
+
+Through the gateway flanked by tall recruiting posters came rather
+hurriedly a youth of no great stature, but of sturdy build and
+comely enough countenance, including bright brown eyes and fresh
+complexion.  Though the dull morning was coldish, perspiration
+might have been detected on his forehead.  Crossing the street,
+without glance to right or left, he increased his pace; also, he
+squared his shoulders and threw up his head with an air that might
+have been defiance at the fact of his being more than an hour late
+for his day's work.  His face, however, betrayed a certain
+spiritual emotion not suggestive of anticipated trouble with
+employer or foreman.  As a matter of fact, the familiar everyday
+duty had ceased to exist for him, and if his new exaltation wavered
+a little as he neared the warehouse, fifteen minutes later, it was
+only because he would have to explain things to the uncle who
+employed him, and to other people; and he was ever shy of speaking
+about himself.
+
+So he hurried through the warehouse without replying to the
+chaffing inquiries of his mates, and ran upstairs to his uncle's
+office.  He was not afraid of his uncle; on the other hand, he had
+never received or expected special favour on account of the
+relationship.
+
+Mr. Purdie was now a big man in the grocery trade.  He had a cosy
+private room with a handsome desk, a rather gorgeous carpet and an
+easy-chair.  He no longer attended at the counter or tied up
+parcels--except when, alone on the premises late in the evening, he
+would sometimes furtively serve imaginary customers, just for auld
+lang syne, as he excused to himself his absurd proceeding.
+
+'But what kep' ye late, Macgreegor?' he inquired, with a futile
+effort to make his good-humoured, whiskered visage assume a stern
+expression.  'Come, come, oot wi' it!  An 'unce o' guid reasons is
+worth a pun' o' fair apologies.'
+
+'The recruitin' office,' said Macgregor, blushing, 'wasna open till
+nine.'
+
+'The recruitin' office!  What--what--guidsake, laddie! dinna tell
+me ye've been thinkin' o' enlistin'!'
+
+'I've enlisted.'
+
+Mr. Purdie fell back in his chair.
+
+'The 9th H.L.I.,' said Macgregor, and, as if to improve matters if
+possible, added, 'Glesca Hielanders--Kilts.'
+
+The successful grocer sat up, pulled down his waistcoat and made a
+grimace which he imagined to be a frown.  'Neither breeks nor
+kilts,' he declared heavily, 'can cover deceit.  Ye're under age,
+Macgreegor.  Ye're but eichteen!'
+
+'Nineteen, Uncle Purdie.'
+
+'Eh?  An' when was ye nineteen?'
+
+'This mornin'.'
+
+Mr. Purdie's hand went to his mouth in time to stop a guffaw.
+Presently he soberly inquired what his nephew's parents had said on
+the matter.
+
+'I ha'ena tell't them yet.' 'Ah, that's bad.  What--what made ye
+enlist?'
+
+Macgregor knew, but could not have put it in words.
+
+'Gettin' tired o' yer job here?'
+
+'Na, Uncle Purdie.'
+
+'H'm!' Mr. Purdie fondled his left whisker.  'An' when--a--ha'e ye
+got to--a--jine yer regiment?'
+
+'The morn's mornin'.  I believe we're gaun into camp immediately.'
+
+'Oho!  So ye'll be wantin' to be quit o' yer job here at once.
+Weel, weel, if ye feel it's yer duty to gang, lad, I suppose it's
+mines to let ye gang as cheery as I can.  But--I maun tell yer
+aunt.' Mr. Purdie rose.
+
+Macgregor, smiled dubiously.  '_She'll_ no' be pleased onyway.'
+
+'Aw, ye never can tell what'll please yer aunt.  At least, that's
+been ma experience for quarter o' a century.  But it'll be best to
+tell her--through the 'phone, of course.  A handy invention the
+'phone.  Bide here till I come back.'
+
+In a few minutes he returned suppressing a smile.
+
+'I couldna ha'e presumed frae her voice that she was delighted,' he
+reported; 'but she commanded me to gi'e ye five pound for
+accidental expenses, as she calls them, an' yer place here is to be
+preserved for ye, an' yer wages paid, even supposin' the war gangs
+on for fifty year.'
+
+With these words Mr. Purdie placed five notes in his astonished
+nephew's hand and bade him begone.
+
+'Ye maun tell yer mither instanter.  I canna understan' what way ye
+didna tell her first.'
+
+'I--I was feart I wud maybe be ower wee for the Glesca Hielanders,'
+Macgregor explained.
+
+'Ye seem to me to be a heid taller since yesterday.  Weel, weel.
+God bless ye an' so forth.  Come back an' see me in the efternune.'
+
+Macgregor went out with a full heart as well as a well-filled
+pocket.  It is hardly likely that the very first 'accidental
+expense' which occurred to him could have been foreseen by Aunt
+Purdie--yet who shall discover the secrets of that august lady's
+mind?
+
+On his way home he paused at sundry shop windows--all jewellers'.
+And he entered one shop, not a jeweller's, but the little
+stationery and fancy goods shop owned by Miss M. Tod, and managed,
+with perhaps more conscience than physical toil, by the girl he had
+been courting for two years without having reached anything that
+could be termed a definite understanding, though their relations
+were of the most friendly and confidential nature.
+
+'Mercy!' exclaimed Christina, at his entrance at so unusual an
+hour; 'is the clock aff its onion, or ha'e ye received the sack?'
+
+He was not quick at answering, and she continued: 'Ye're ower
+early, Mac.  Yer birthday present'll no be ready till the evenin'.
+Still, here's wishin' ye many happies, an' may ye keep on
+improvin'.'
+
+He smiled in a fashion that struck her as unfamiliar.
+
+'What's up, Mac?' she asked, kindly.  'Surely ye ha'ena cast oot
+wi' yer uncle?'
+
+'I've enlisted,' he softly exploded.
+
+She stared, and the colour rose in her pretty face, but her voice
+was calm.  'Lucky you!' said she.
+
+He was disappointed.  Involuntarily he exclaimed: 'Ye're no a bit
+surprised!'
+
+'What regiment?'
+
+He told her, and she informed him that he wouldn't look so bad in
+the kilt.  He announced that he was to report himself on the
+morrow, and she merely commented, 'Quick work.'
+
+'But, Christina, ye couldna ha'e guessed I was for enlistin',' he
+said, after a pause.
+
+'I was afraid--I mean for to say, I fancied ye were the sort to dae
+it.  If I had kent for sure, I wud ha'e been knittin' ye socks
+instead o' a silly tie for yer birthday.'
+
+'Ha'e ye been knittin' a tie for me?'
+
+'Uh-ha--strictly platonic, of course.'
+
+She had used the word more than once in the past, and he had not
+derived much comfort from looking it up in the dictionary.  But now
+he was going--he told himself--to be put off no longer.  Seating
+himself at the counter, he briefly recounted his uncle's kindness
+and his aunt's munificence.  Then he attempted to secure her hand.
+
+She evaded his touch, asking how his parents had taken his
+enlistment.  On his answering----
+
+'Dear, dear!' she cried, with more horror than she may have felt,
+'an here ye are, wastin' the precious time in triflin' conversation
+wi' me!'
+
+'It's you that's daein' the triflin',' he retorted, with sudden
+spirit; 'an' it's your fau't I'm here noo instead o' at hame.'
+
+'Well, I never!' she cried.  'I believe I gave ye permission to
+escort me from these premises at 8 p.m.,' she proceeded in her best
+English, which he hated, 'but I have not the slightest recollection
+of inviting ye to call at 10 a.m.  However, the 8 p.m.  appointment
+is hereby cancelled.'
+
+'Cancel yer Auntie Kate!' he rejoined, indignant.  'Hoo can ye
+speak like that when dear knows when I'll see ye again?'
+
+'Oh, ye'll no be at the Front for a week or so yet, an' we'll hope
+for the best.  Still, I'll forgive ye, seein' it's yer nineteenth
+birthday.  Only, I'm thinkin' yer parents 'll be wantin' ye to keep
+the hoose the nicht.'
+
+Macgregor's collar seemed to be getting tight, for he tugged at it
+as he said: 'I'll tell them I'm gaun oot to see _you_.'
+
+'That'll but double the trouble,' she said, lightly.
+
+Their eyes met, and for the first time in their acquaintance,
+perhaps, hers were first to give way.
+
+'Christina,' he said, abruptly, 'I want to burst that five pound.'
+
+'Ye extravagant monkey!'
+
+'On a--a ring.'
+
+'A ring!  Ha'e ye enlisted as a colonel?'  But her levity lacked
+sparkle.
+
+As for Macgregor, he had dreamed of this moment for ages.  'Ye'll
+tak' it, Christina?' he whispered.  'Gi'e me yer size--a hole in a
+bit pasteboard. . . .'  Speech failed him.
+
+'Me?' she murmured--and shook her head.  'Ye're ower young, Mac,'
+she said, gently.
+
+'I'm a year aulder nor you . . .  Christina, let's get engaged
+afore I gang--say ye will!'
+
+She moved a little way up the counter and became engrossed in the
+lurid cover of a penny novel.  He moved also until he was directly
+opposite.
+
+'Christina! . . .  Yer third finger is aboot the same as ma wee
+yin.'
+
+'Ay; but ye needna remind me o' ma clumsy han's.'
+
+'Play fair,' he said.  'Will ye tak' the ring?'
+
+'I dinna ken, Mac.'
+
+But her hand was in his.
+
+Too soon they heard Miss Tod stirring in the back room.
+
+'If ye spend mair nor a pound on a ring,' said Christina, 'I'll
+reconsider ma decision!'
+
+'Ye've decided!' he almost shouted.
+
+'No yet,' she said, with a gesture of dismissal as Miss Tod entered.
+
+
+
+
+BREAKING IT GENTLY
+
+The quest of the right ring occupied the whole of the forenoon, and
+Macgregor reached his home in bare time for the family dinner.  He
+desired to break his news as gently as possible, so, after making,
+to his mother's annoyance, a most wretched meal, he said to his
+father, who was lighting his pipe, in a voice meant to be natural:
+
+'I got five pound frae Aunt Purdie the day.'
+
+'Ye what!'  Mr. Robinson dropped the match, and shouted to his
+wife, who, assisted by their daughter, was starting to wash up.
+'Lizzie!  Did ever ye hear the like?  Macgreegor's got five pound
+frae his Aunt Purdie!  Dod, but that's a braw birthday----'
+
+'She said it was for accidental expenses,' stammered the son.
+
+Lizzie turned and looked at him.  'What ails ye the day, laddie?'
+
+'Uncle Purdie's gaun to keep ma place for me,' he floundered.
+
+'Keep yer place for ye!' cried John.  'What's a' this aboot
+accidental expenses?  Ha'e ye got hurt?'
+
+Mrs. Robinson came over and laid a damp hand on her boy's shoulder.
+'Macgreegor, ye needna be feart to tell us.  We can thole it.'  She
+glanced at her husband, and said, in a voice he had not often
+heard: 'John, oor wee Macgreegor has growed up to be a; sojer'--and
+went back to her dishes.
+
+Later, and just when he ought to be returning to his work, Mr.
+Robinson, possibly for the mere sake of saying something, requested
+a view of the five pounds.
+
+'Ay,' seconded Lizzie, cheerfully, whilst her hand itched to grab
+the money and, convey it to the bank, 'let's see them, laddie.'
+And sister Jeannie and small brother Jimsie likewise gathered round
+the hero.
+
+With a feeble grin, Macgregor produced his notes.
+
+'He's jist got three!' cried Jimsie.
+
+'Whisht, Jimsie!' whispered Jeannie.
+
+'Seems to ha'e been a bad accident already!' remarked John,
+laughing boisterously.
+
+'John,' said Lizzie, 'ye'll be late.  Macgreegor'll maybe walk a
+bit o' the road wi' ye.'
+
+They were well on their way to the engineering works, where Mr.
+Robinson was foreman, when Macgregor managed to say:
+
+'I burst the twa pound on a ring.'
+
+'Oho!' said John, gaily; then solemnly, 'What kin' o' a ring,
+Macgreegor?'
+
+'An engagement yin,' the ruddy youth replied.
+
+Mr. Robinson laughed, but not very heartily.  'Sae lang as it's no
+a waddin' ring. . . .   Weel, weel, this is the day for news.' He
+touched his son's arm.  'It'll be the young lass in the stationery
+shop--her that ye whiles see at yer Uncle Purdie's hoose--eh?'
+
+'Hoo did ye ken?'
+
+'Oh, jist guessed.  It's her?'
+
+'Maybe. . . .  She hasna ta'en the ring yet.'
+
+'But ye think she will, or ye wudna ha'e tell't me.  Weel, I'm sure
+I wish ye luck, Macgreegor.  She's a bonny bit lass, rael clever, I
+wud say, an'--an' gey stylish.'
+
+'She's no that stylish--onyway, no stylish like Aunt Purdie.'
+
+'Ah, but ye maunna cry doon yer Aunt Purdie----'
+
+'I didna mean that.  But ye ken what I mean, fayther.'
+
+'Oh, fine, fine,' Mr. Robinson replied, thankful that he had not
+been asked to explain precisely what _he_ had meant.  'She bides wi'
+her uncle an' aunt, does she no?' he continued, thoughtfully.  'I'm
+wonderin' what they'll say aboot this.  I doobt they'll say ye're
+faur ower young to be thinkin' o' a wife.'
+
+It was on Macgregor's tongue to retort that he had never thought of
+any such thing, when his father went on----
+
+'An' as for yer mither, it'll be a terrible surprise to her.  I
+suppose ye'll be tellin', her as sune's ye get back ?'
+
+'Ay. . . .   Are ye no pleased about it?'
+
+'Me?'  Mr. Robinson scratched his head.  'Takin' it for granted
+that ye're serious aboot the thing, I was never pleaseder.  Ye can
+tell yer mither that, if ye like.'
+
+Macgregor was used to the paternal helping word at awkward moments,
+but he had never valued it so much as now.  As a matter of fact, he
+dreaded his mother's frown less than her smile.  Yet he need not
+have dreaded either on this occasion.
+
+He found her in the kitchen, busy over a heap of more or less
+woolly garments belonging to himself.  Jimsie was at afternoon
+school; Jeannie sat in the little parlour knitting as though life
+depended thereby.
+
+He sat down in his father's chair by the hearth and lit a cigarette
+with fingers not quite under control.
+
+'I'll ha'e to send a lot o' things efter ye,' Lizzie remarked.
+'This semmit's had its day.'
+
+'I'll be gettin' a bit leave afore we gang to the Front,' said
+Macgregor, as though the months of training were already nearing an
+end.
+
+'If ye dinna get leave sune, I'll be up at the barracks to ha'e a
+word wi' the general.'
+
+'It'll likely be a camp, mither.'
+
+'Aweel, camp or barracks, see an' keep yer feet cosy, an' dinna
+smoke ower mony ceegarettes.'  She fell to with her needle.
+
+At the end of a long minute, Macgregor observed to the kettle: 'I
+tell't fayther what I done wi' the twa pound.'
+
+'Did ye?'
+
+'Ay.  He--he was awfu' pleased.'
+
+'Was he?'
+
+Macgregor took a puff at his cold cigarette, and tried again.  'He
+said I was to tell ye he was pleased.'
+
+'Oh, did he?'
+
+'Never pleaseder in his life.'
+
+'That was nice,' commented Lizzie, twirling the thread round the
+stitching of a button.
+
+He got up, went to the window, looked out, possibly for
+inspiration, and came back with a little box in his hand.
+
+'That's what I done,' he said, dropped it on her sewing, and
+strolled to the window again.
+
+After a long time, as it seemed, he felt her gaze and heard her
+voice.
+
+'Macgreegor, are ye in earnest?'
+
+'Sure.'  He turned to face her, but now she was looking down at the
+ring.
+
+'It'll be Mistress Baldwin's niece,' she said, at last.
+
+'Hoo did ye ken?'
+
+'A nice lass, but ower young like yersel'.  An' yet'--she lifted
+her eyes to his--'ye're auld enough to be a sojer.  Does she ken
+ye've enlisted?'
+
+He nodded, looking away.  There was something in his mother's
+eyes. . .
+
+'Aweel,' she said, as if to herself, 'this war'll pit auld heids on
+some young shouthers.'  She got up, laid her seam deliberately on
+the table, and went to him.  She put her arm round him.  'Wi' yer
+King an' yer Country an' yer Christina,' she said, with a sort of
+laugh, 'there winna be a great deal o' ye left for yer mither.  But
+she's pleased if you're pleased--this time, at ony rate.'  She
+released him.  'I maun tell Jeannie.' she said, leaving the kitchen.
+
+Jeannie came, and for once that sensible little person talked
+nonsense.  In her eyes, by his engagement, her big brother had
+simply out-heroed himself.
+
+'Aw, clay up, Jeannie,' he cried at last, in his embarrassment.
+'Come on oot wi' me, an' I'll stan' ye a dizzen sliders.'
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+FIRST BLOOD
+
+Macgregor, his countenance shining with lover's anticipation and
+Lever's soap, was more surprised than gratified to find Willie
+Thomson awaiting him at the close-mouth.  For Willie, his oldest,
+if not his choicest friend, had recently jeered at his intention of
+becoming a soldier, and they had parted on indifferent terms,
+though Willie had succeeded in adding to a long list of borrowings
+a fresh item of twopence.
+
+Willie and prosperity were still as far apart as ever, and even
+Willie could hardly have blamed prosperity for that.  He had no
+deadly vices, but he could not stick to any job for more than a
+month.  He was out of work at present.  Having developed into a
+rather weedy, seedy-looking young man, he was not too proud to
+sponge on the melancholy maiden aunt who had brought him up, and
+whose efforts at stern discipline during his earlier years had
+seemingly proved fruitless.   Macgregor was the only human being he
+could call friend.
+
+'Ye're in a hurry,' he now observed, and put the usual question:
+'Ha'e ye a fag on ye?'
+
+Macgregor obliged, saying as kindly as he could, 'I'll maybe see ye
+later, Wullie.'
+
+'Thon girl again, I suppose.'
+
+'So long,' said Macgregor, shortly.
+
+'Haud on a meenute.  I want to speak to ye.  Ha'e ye done it?'
+
+'Ay, this mornin'. . . .  An' I'm gey busy.'
+
+'Ye should leave the weemen alane, an' then ye wud ha'e time to
+spare.'
+
+'What ha'e ye got to speak aboot?' Macgregor impatiently demanded,
+though he was in good time for his appointment.
+
+'I was thinkin' o' enlistin',' said Willie.
+
+'Oh!' cried his friend, interested.  'Ye've changed yer mind,
+Wullie?'
+
+'I've been conseederin' it for a while back.  Ye needna think _you_
+had onything to dae wi' it,' said Willie.
+
+'Ye've been drinkin' beer,' his friend remarked, not accusingly,
+but merely by way of stating a fact.
+
+'So wud you, if ye had ma aunt.'
+
+'Maybe I wud,' Macgregor sympathetically admitted.
+
+'But ye couldna droon her in twa hauf pints.  Ach, I'm fed up wi'
+her.  She startit yatterin' at me the nicht because I askit her for
+saxpence; so at last I tell't her I wud suner jine Kitchener's nor
+see her ugly face for anither week.'
+
+'What did she say?'
+
+'Said it was the first guid notion ever I had.'
+
+'Weel,' said Macgregor eagerly, after a slight pause, 'since ye're
+for enlistin', ye'd best dae it the nicht, Wullie.'
+
+'I suppose I micht as weel jine your lot,' said Willie, carelessly.
+
+Macgregor drew himself up.  'The 9th H.L.I, doesna accep' onything
+that offers.'
+
+'I'm as guid as you--an' I'm bigger nor you.'
+
+'Ye're bigger, but ye're peely-wally.  Still, Wullie, I wud like
+fine to see ye in ma company.'
+
+'Ye've a neck on ye!  _Your_ company! . . .  Aweel, come on an' see
+me dae it.'
+
+In the dusk Macgregor peered at his watch.  It told him that the
+thing could not be done, not if he ran both ways.  'I canna manage
+it, Wullie,' he said, with honest regret.
+
+'Then it's off,' the contrary William declared.
+
+'What's off?'
+
+'I've changed ma mind.  I'm no for the sojerin'.'
+
+At this Macgregor bristled, so to speak.  He could stand being
+'codded,' but already the Army was sacred to him.
+
+'See here, Wullie, will ye gang an' enlist noo or tak' a hammerin'?'
+
+'Wha'll gi'e me the hammerin'?'
+
+'Come an' see,' was the curt reply.  Macgregor turned back into the
+close and led the way to a small yard comprising some sooty earth,
+several blades of grass and a couple of poles for the support of
+clothes lines.  A little light came from windows above.  Here he
+removed his jacket, hung it carefully on a pole; and began to roll
+up his sleeves.
+
+'It's ower dark here,' Willie complained.  'I canna see.'
+
+'Ye can feel.  Tak' aff yer coat.' Willie knew that despite his
+inches he was a poor match for the other, yet he was a stubborn
+chap.  'What business is it o' yours whether I enlist or no?'  he
+scowled.
+
+'Will ye enlist?'
+
+'I'll see ye damp first!'
+
+'Come on, then!' Macgregor spat lightly on his palms.  'I've nae
+time to waste.'
+
+Willie cast his jacket on the ground.  'I'll wrastle ye,' he said,
+with a gleam of hope.
+
+'Thenk ye; but I'm no for dirtyin' ma guid claes.  Come on!'
+
+To Willie's credit, let it be recorded, he did come on, and so
+promptly that Macgregor, scarcely prepared, had to take a light tap
+on the chin.  A brief display of thoroughly unscientific boxing
+ensued, and then Macgregor got home between the eyes.  Willie,
+tripping over his own jacket, dropped to earth.
+
+'I wasna ready that time,' he grumbled, sitting up.
+
+Macgregor seized his hand and dragged him to his feet, with the
+encouraging remark, 'Ye'll be readier next time.'
+
+In the course of the second round Willie achieved a smart clip on
+his opponent's ear, but next moment he received, as it seemed, an
+express train on the point of his nose, and straightway sat down in
+agony.
+
+'Is't bled, Wullie?' Macgregor presently inquired with compunction
+as well as satisfaction.
+
+'It's near broke, ye----!' groaned the sufferer, adding, 'I kent
+fine ye wud bate me.'
+
+'What for did ye fecht then?'
+
+'Nane o' your business.'
+
+'Weel, get up.  Yer breeks'll get soakit sittin' there.'  The
+victor donned his jacket.
+
+'Ma breeks is nane o' your business, neither.'
+
+'Ach, Wullie, dinna be a wean.  Get up an' shake han's.  I've got
+to gang.'
+
+'Gang then!  Awa' an' boast to yer girl that ye hut a man on his
+nose behind his back----'
+
+'Havers, man!  What's wrang wi' ye?'
+
+'I'll tell ye what's wrang wi' you, Macgreegor Robi'son!'  Willie
+cleared his throat noisily.  'Listen!  Ye're ower weel aff.  Ye've
+got a dacent fayther an' mither an' brither an' sister; ye've got a
+dacent uncle; ye've got a dacent girl. . . .  An' what the hell
+ha'e I got?  A rotten aunt!' Maybe she canna help bein' rotten, but
+she is--damp rotten!  She wud be gled, though she wud greet, if I
+got a bullet the morn.  There ye are!  That's me!'
+
+'Wullie!' Macgregor exclaimed, holding out his hand, which the
+other ignored.
+
+'I'm rotten, tae,' he went on, bitterly.  'Fine I ken it.  But I
+never had an equal chance wi' you.  I'm no blamin' ye.  Ye've aye
+shared me what ye had.  I treated ye ill aboot the enlistin'.  But
+I wasna gaun to enlist to please you, nor ma aunt, neither.' He
+rose slowly and picked up his shabby jacket.  'But, by ----, I'll
+enlist to please masel'!'  He held out his hand.  'There it is, if
+ye want it, Macgreegor. . . .  Ha'e ye a match?  Weel, show a
+licht.  Is ma nose queer-like?'
+
+'Ay,' Macgregor unwillingly replied, and, with inspiration, added
+consolingly, 'But it was aye that, Wullie.'
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+THE RING
+
+'Wha' was chasin' ye?' Christina inquired, as Macgregor came
+breathless to the counter, which she was tidying up for the night.
+
+'I was feart I was gaun to be late.' he panted.
+
+'I wud ha'e excused ye under the unique circumstances,' she said
+graciously.  'Sit doon an' recover yer puff.'
+
+He took the chair, saying: 'It was Wullie Thomson.  He's awa' to
+enlist.'
+
+'Wullie Thomson!  Weel, that's a bad egg oot the basket.  Hoo did
+ye manage it, Mac?'
+
+'It wasna me,' Macgregor replied, not a little regretfully.  'He's
+enlistin' to please hissel'.  He says he's fed up wi' his aunt.'
+
+'She's been feedin' him up for a lang while, puir body.  But ye're
+a queer lad,' she said softly, 'the way ye stick to a fushionless
+character like him.  I was tellin' Miss Tod,' she continued,
+'aboot----'
+
+'Oor engagement!' he burst out, scarlet.
+
+'Whist, man!--ye've a wild imagination!--aboot ye enlistin'.  She's
+been in a state o' patriotic tremulosity ever since.  Dinna be
+surprised if she tries for to kiss ye.'
+
+'I wud be mair surprised,' said Macgregor, with unexpected
+boldness, 'if you tried it.'
+
+'Naething could exceed ma ain amazement,' she rejoined, 'if I did.'
+
+'I've got the ring,' he announced, his hand in his pocket.
+
+'Order!  Remember, I'm still at the receipt o' custom--three
+bawbees since seeven o'clock.'
+
+'I hope ye'll like it,' he said, reluctantly withdrawing his hand
+empty.  'Miss Tod canna hear us, can she?'
+
+'Ye never can tell what a spinster'll hear when she's interested.
+At present she's nourishin' hersel' on tea--her nineteenth cup for
+the day; but she'll be comin' shortly to embrace ye an' shut the
+shop.  I micht as weel get on ma hat. . . .  An' 'what did yer
+parents say to ye?'
+
+'They said ye was an awfu' nice, clever, bonny, handsome lassie----'
+
+'Tit, tit!  Aboot the enlistin', I meant.  But I'll no ask ye that.
+They wud be prood, onyway.'
+
+'Ma uncle's raised ma wages, an' they're to be payed a' the time
+I'm awa'.'
+
+'Shakespeare!  That's a proper uncle to ha'e!  But dinna be tempted
+to stop awa' till ye're a millionaire.  Oh, here's Miss Tod.  Keep
+calm.  She'll no bite ye.'
+
+The little elderly woman who entered had made the acquaintance of
+Macgregor in his early courting days, especially during the period
+wherein he had squandered his substance in purchases of innumerable
+and unnecessary lead pencils, etcetera, doubtless with a view to
+acquiring merit in her eyes as well as in her assistant's.
+
+She now proceeded to hold his hand, patting it tenderly, while she
+murmured 'brave lad' over and over again, to his exquisite
+embarrassment.
+
+'But ye'll bate the nesty Rooshians, dearie--I meant for to say the
+Prooshians, Christina--an' ye'll come marchin' hame a conductor or
+an inspector, or whatever they ca' it, wi' medals on yer breist an'
+riches in yer purse----'
+
+'An' rings on his fingers an' bells----'
+
+'Noo, noo, lassie, ye're no to mak' fun o' me!  Whaur's his case?'
+
+Christina handed her an aluminium cigarette case--the best in the
+shop--and she presented it to Macgregor, saying: 'Ye're no to gang
+an' hurt yer health wi' smokin'; but when ye tak' a ceegarette,
+ye'll maybe gi'e a thocht to an auld body that'll be rememberin'
+ye, baith mornin' an' nicht.'
+
+'If he smokes his usual, he'll be thinkin' o' ye every twinty
+meenutes,' remarked the girl, and drawing on her gloves, she came
+round to the door in order to close an interview which threatened
+to become lugubrious for all parties.
+
+     *     *     *     *     *
+
+'Everybody's terrible kind,' Macgregor observed, when he found
+himself alone with Christina on the pavement.  'Will ye look at the
+ring noo?'
+
+She shook her head and stepped out briskly.
+
+After a little while he revived.  'I hope ye'll like it, Christina.
+It's got pearls on it.  I hope it'll fit ye.'  A long pause.  'I
+wish ye wud say something.'
+
+'What'll I say?'
+
+'Onything.  I never heard ye dumb afore.'
+
+'Maybe I'm reformin'.'
+
+'Christina!'
+
+'That's ma name, but ye needna tell everybody.'
+
+'Dinna tease.  We--we ha'e awfu' little time.  Tak' aff yer glove
+an' try the ring.  Naebody'll notice.  Ye can look at it later on.'
+
+'I'm no in the habit o' acceptin' rings frae young men.'
+
+'But--but we're engaged.'
+
+'That's news, but I doobt it's no official.'
+
+'At least we're near engaged.  Say we are, Christina.'
+
+'This is most embarrassing, Mr. Robinson.'
+
+'Aw, Christina!' said the boy, helplessly.
+
+She let him remain in silent suspense for several minutes, until,
+in fact, they turned into the quiet street of her abode.  Then she
+casually remarked:
+
+'Ma han's gettin' cauld wantin' its glove, Mac.'
+
+He seized it joyfully and endeavoured to put the ring on.  'It's
+ower wee!' he cried, aghast.
+
+'That's ma middle finger.'
+
+It fitted nicely.  Triumphantly he exclaimed: '_Noo_ we're engaged!'
+
+She had no rejoinder ready.
+
+'Ye can tak' ma arm, if ye like,' he said presently, just a little
+too confidently.
+
+'I dinna feel in danger o' collapsin' at present,' she replied,
+regarding the ring under the lamp they were passing.  'Ye're an
+extravagant thing!' she went on.  'I hope ye got it on appro.'
+
+'What--dae ye no like it?'
+
+'I like the feel o' it,' she admitted softly, 'an' it's real bonny;
+but ye--ye shouldna ha'e done it, Mac.'  She made as if to remove
+the ring.
+
+He caught her hand.  'But we're engaged!'
+
+'Ye're ower sure o' that,' she said a trifle sharply.
+
+He stared at her.
+
+'Firstly, I never said I wud tak' the ring for keeps,' she
+proceeded.  'Secondly, ye ha'ena seen ma uncle yet----'
+
+'I'm no feart for him--if ye back me up.  Him an' yer aunt'll dae
+onything ye like.'
+
+'Thirdly, ye ha'e never. . . .'  She broke off as they reached the
+close leading to her home.
+
+'What ha'e I no done, Christina?'
+
+'Never heed. . . .  Leave go ma finger.'
+
+'Will ye keep the ring?'
+
+'Hoo can I keep the ring when ye ha'e never. . .'  Again the
+sentence was not completed.  She freed her hand and stepped within
+the close.
+
+'Tell me, an' I'll dae it, Christina,' he cried.
+
+She shook her head, smiling rather ruefully.
+
+'Tell me,' he pleaded.
+
+'I canna--an' maybe ye wouldna like me ony better if I could.'  She
+took off the ring and with a wistful glance at it offered it to him.
+
+He took it, and before she knew, it was on her finger again.
+
+'Ye've jist got to keep it!' he said, desperately.  'An' Christina,
+I--I'm gaun to kiss ye!'
+
+'Oh, mercy!'
+
+But he had none. . . .
+
+'Are we engaged or no?' he whispered at last.
+
+'Let me get ma breath.'
+
+'Hurry up!'
+
+She laughed, though her eyes were wet.  'Oh, dear,' she murmured,
+'I never thought I wud get engaged wi'oot a--a . . .'
+
+'A what?'
+
+Suddenly she leaned forward and touched his cheek.  'Dinna fash
+yersel', Mac.  Bein' in war-time, I suppose the best o' us has got
+to dae wi'oot some luxury or ither--sich as a proper High-Class
+Proposal.'
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+IN UNIFORM
+
+There happened to be a little delay in providing the later batches
+of recruits with the garb proper to their battalion, and it was the
+Monday of their third week in training when Privates
+Robinson--otherwise Macgregor--and Thomson saw themselves for the
+first time in the glory of the kilt.  Their dismay would doubtless
+have been overwhelming had they been alone in that glory; even with
+numerous comrades in similar distress they displayed much
+awkwardness and self-consciousness.  During drill Willie received
+several cautions against standing in a semi-sitting attitude, and
+Macgregor, in his anxiety to avoid his friend's error, made himself
+ridiculous by standing on his toes, with outstretched neck and
+fixed, unhappy stare.
+
+As if to intensify the situation, the leave for which they had
+applied a few days previously was unexpectedly granted for that
+evening.  Before he realized what he was saying, Macgregor had
+inquired whether he might go without his kilt.  Perhaps he was not
+the first recruit to put it that way.  Anyway, the reply was a curt
+'I don't think.'
+
+'I believe ye're ashamed o' the uniform,' said Willie, disagreeable
+under his own disappointment at the verdict.
+
+'Say it again!' snapped Macgregor.
+
+Willie ignored the invitation, and swore by the great god Jings
+that he would assuredly wear breeks unless something happened.  The
+only thing that may be said to have happened was that he did not
+wear breeks.
+
+As a matter of fact, Macgregor, with his sturdy figure, carried his
+kilt rather well.  The lanky William, however, gave the impression
+that he was growing out of it perceptibly, yet inevitably.
+
+Four o'clock saw them started on their way, and with every step
+from the camp, which now seemed a lost refuge, their kilts felt
+shorter, their legs longer, their knees larger, their person
+smaller.  Conversation soon dried up.  Willie whistled tunelessly
+through his teeth; Macgregor kept his jaw set and occasionally and
+inadvertently kicked a loose stone.  Down on the main road an
+electric car bound for Glasgow hove in sight.  Simultaneously they
+started to run.  After a few paces they pulled up, as though
+suddenly conscious of unseemliness, and resumed their sober
+pace--and lost the car.
+
+They boarded the next, having sacrificed twelve precious minutes of
+their leave.  Of course, they would never have dreamed of
+travelling  'inside'--and  yet . . .  They ascended as gingerly as
+a pretty girl aware of ungainly ankles surmounts a stile.  Arrived
+safely on the roof, they sat down and puffed each a long breath
+suggestive of grave peril overcome.  They covered their knees as
+far as they could and as surreptitiously as possible.
+
+Presently, with the help of cigarettes, which they smoked
+industriously, they began to revive.  Their lips were unsealed,
+though conversation could not be said to gush.  They did their best
+to look like veterans.  An old woman smiled rather sadly, but very
+kindly, in their direction, and Macgregor reddened, while Willie
+spat in defiance of the displayed regulation.
+
+As the journey proceeded, their talk dwindled.  It was after a long
+pause that Willie said:
+
+'Ye'll be for hame as sune as we get to Glesca--eh?'
+
+'Ay. . . .  An' you'll be for yer aunt's--eh?'
+
+'Ay,' Willie sighed, and lowering his voice, said: 'What'll ye dae
+if they laugh at ye?'
+
+'They'll no laugh,' Macgregor replied, some indignation in his
+assurance.
+
+'H'm! . . .  Maybe _she'll_ laugh at ye.'
+
+'Nae fears!'  But the confident tone was overdone.  Macgregor,
+after all, was not quite sure about Christina.  She laughed at so
+many things.  He was to meet her at seven, and of late he had lost
+sleep wondering how she would receive his first appearance in the
+kilt.  He dreaded her chaff more than any horrors of war that lay
+before him.
+
+'Aw, she'll laugh, sure enough,' croaked Willie.  'I wud ha'e
+naething to dae wi' the weemen if I was you.  Ye canna trust them,'
+added this misogynist of twenty summers.
+
+Macgregor took hold of himself.  'What'll ye dae if yer aunt
+laughs?' he quietly demanded.
+
+'Her?  Gor!  I never heard her laugh yet--excep' in her sleep efter
+eatin' a crab.  But by Jings, if she laughs at me, I--I'll gang oot
+an' ha'e a beer!'
+
+'But ye've ta'en the pledge.'
+
+'To ----!  I forgot aboot that.  Weel, I--I'll wait an' see what
+she's got in for the tea first. . . .  But she _canna_ laugh.  I'll
+bet ye a packet o' fags she greets.'
+
+'I'll tak' ye on!'
+
+It may be said at once that the wager was never decided, for the
+simple reason that when the time came Willie refused all
+information--including the fact that his aunt had kissed him.
+Which is not, alas, to say that his future references to her were
+to be more respectful than formerly.
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+At three minutes before seven Macgregor stood outside Miss Tod's
+little shop, waiting for the departure of a customer.  It would be
+absurd to say that his knees shook, but it is a fact that his
+spirit trembled.  Suspended from a finger of his left hand was a
+small package of Christina's favourite sweets, which unconsciously
+he kept spinning all the time.  His right hand was chiefly occupied
+in feeling for a pocket which no longer existed, and then trying to
+look as if it had been doing something entirely different.  He
+wished the customer would 'hurry up'; yet when she emerged at last,
+he was not ready.  He was miserably, desperately afraid of
+Christina's smile, and just as miserably, desperately desirous to
+see it again.
+
+Solemnly seven began to toll from a church tower.  He pulled
+himself up.  After all, why should she laugh?  And if she
+did--well. . . .
+
+Bracing himself, he strode forward, grasped the rattling handle and
+pushed.  The little signal bell above the door went off with a
+monstrous 'ding' that rang through his spine, and in a condition of
+feverish moistness he entered, and, halting a pace within, saw in
+blurred fashion, and seemingly at a great distance, the loveliest
+thing he knew.
+
+Christina did smile, but it was upon, not at, him.  And she said
+lightly, and by no means unkindly:
+
+'Hullo, Mac! . . .  Ye've had yer hair cut.'
+
+From sheer relief after the long strain, something was bound to
+give way.  The string on his finger snapped and the package,
+reaching the floor, gaily exploded.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+MRS. McOSTRICH ENTERTAINS
+
+'I'm fed up wi' pairties,' was Macgregor's ungracious response when
+informed at home of the latest invitation.  'I dinna ask for leave
+jist for to gang to a rotten pairty.'
+
+'Ay, ye've mair to dae wi' yer leave,' his father was beginning,
+with a wink, when his mother, with something of her old asperity,
+said:
+
+'Macgreegor, that's no the way to speak o' pairties that folk gi'e
+in yer honour.  An' you, John, should think shame o' yersel'.  Ye
+should baith be sayin' it's terrible kind o' Mistress McOstrich to
+ask ye what nicht wud suit yer convenience.'
+
+Macgregor regarded his mother almost as in the days when he
+addressed her as 'Maw'--yet not quite.  There was a twinkle in his
+eye.  Evidently she had clean forgotten he had grown up!  Possibly
+she detected the twinkle and perceived her relapse, for she went on
+quickly--
+
+'Though dear knows hoo Mistress McOstrich can afford to gi'e a
+pairty wi' her man's trade in its present condeetion.'
+
+'She's been daft for gi'ein' pah-ties since ever I can mind,' Mr.
+Robinson put in, 'an' the Kaiser hissel' couldna stop her, Still,
+Macgreegor, she's an auld frien', an' it wud be a peety to offend
+her.  Ye'll be mair at hame there nor ye was at yer Aunt Purdie's
+swell affair.  Dod, Lizzie, thon was a gorgeous banquet!  I never
+tasted as much nor ett as little; I never heard sich high-class
+conversation nor felt liker a nap; I never sat on safter chairs nor
+looked liker a martyr on tin tacks.'
+
+Macgregor joined in his father's guffaw, but stopped short, loyalty
+revolting.  Aunt Purdie had meant it kindly.
+
+'Tits, John!' said Lizzie, 'ye got on fine excep' when ye let yer
+wine jeelly drap on the carpet.'
+
+'Oho, so there was wine in 't!  I fancied it was inebriated-like.
+But the mistak' I made was in tryin' to kep it when it was
+descendin'.  A duke wud jist ha'e let it gang as if a wine jeelly
+was naething to him.  But, d'ye ken, wife, I was unco uneasy when I
+discovered the bulk o' it on ma shoe efter we had withdrew to the
+drawin' room----'
+
+'Haud yer tongue, man!  Macgreegor, what nicht 'll suit ye?'
+
+'If ye say a nicht, I'll try for it; but I canna be sure o' gettin'
+a late pass.'  He was less uncertain when making appointments with
+Christina.
+
+And Mr. Robinson once more blundered and caused his son to blush by
+saying: 'He wud rayther spend the evenin' wi' his intended--eh,
+Macgreegor?'
+
+'But she's to be invited!' Lizzie cried triumphantly.  'So there ye
+are!'
+
+'Ah, but that's no the same,' John persisted, 'as meetin' her
+quiet-like.  When I was courtin' you, Lizzie, did ye no prefer----'
+
+Lizzie ignored her man--the only way.  'What aboot Friday, next
+week?'
+
+'If we're no in Flanders afore then,' reluctantly replied the
+soldier of seven weeks' standing.
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+Happily for Mrs. McOstrich's sake Macgregor was able to keep the
+engagement, and credit may be given him for facing the wasted
+evening with a fairly cheerful countenance.  Perhaps Christina,
+with whom he arrived a little late, did something to mitigate his
+grudge against his hostess.
+
+Mrs. McOstrich was painfully fluttered by having a real live kiltie
+in her little parlour, which was adorned as heretofore with
+ornaments borrowed from the abodes of her guests.  Though Macgregor
+was acquainted with all the guests, she insisted upon solemnly
+introducing him, along with his betrothed to each individual with
+the formula: 'This is Private Robi'son an' his intended.'
+
+While Macgregor grinned miserably, Christina, the stranger, smiled
+sweetly, if a little disconcertingly.
+
+Then the party settled down again to its sober pleasures.
+Macgregor possessed a fairly clear memory of the same company in a
+similar situation a dozen years ago, but the only change which now
+impressed itself upon him was that Mr. Pumpherston had become much
+greyer, stouter, shorter of breath, and was no longer funny.  And,
+as in the past, the prodigious snores of Mr. McOstrich, who still
+followed his trade of baker, sounded at intervals through the wall
+without causing the company the slightest concern, and were
+likewise no longer funny.
+
+After supper, which consisted largely of lemonade and pastries, the
+hostess requested her guests, several being well-nigh torpid, to
+attend to a song by Mr. Pumpherston.  No one (excepting his wife)
+wanted to hear it, but the Pumpherston song had become traditional
+with the McOstrich entertainments.  One could not have the latter
+without the former.
+
+'He's got a new sang,' Mrs. Pumpherston intimated, with a
+stimulating glance round the company, 'an' he's got a tunin' fork,
+forbye, that saves him wrastlin' for the richt key, as it were.
+Tune up, Geordie!'
+
+Mr. Pumpherston deliberately produced the fork, struck it on his
+knee, winced, muttered 'dammit,' and gazed upwards.  Not so many
+years ago Macgregor would have exploded; to-night he was occupied
+in trying to find Christina's hand under the table.
+
+'Doh, me, soh, doh, soh, me, doh,' hummed the vocalist.
+
+Christina, who had been looking desperately serious, let out a
+small squeak and hurriedly blew her nose.  Macgregor regarded her
+in astonishment, and she withdrew the little finger she had
+permitted him to capture.
+
+'It's a patriotic sang in honour,' Mrs. Pumpherston started to
+explain----
+
+'Ach, woman!' cried her spouse, 'ye've made me loss ma key.'  He
+re-struck the fork irritably, and proceeded to inform the
+company--'It's no exac'ly a new sang, but----'
+
+'Ye'll be lossin' yer key again, Geordie.'
+
+With a sulky grunt, Mr. Pumpherston once more struck his fork, but
+this time discreetly on the leg of his chair, and in his own good
+time made a feeble attack on 'Rule, Britannia.'
+
+'This is fair rotten,' Macgregor muttered at the third verse,
+resentful that his love should be apparently enjoying it.
+
+'Remember ye're a sojer,' she whispered back, 'an' thole.'  But she
+let him find her hand again.
+
+The drear performance came to an end amid applause sufficient to
+satisfy Mrs. Pumpherston.
+
+'Excep' when ye cracked on "arose," ye managed fine,' she said to
+her perspiring mate, and to the hostess, 'What think ye o' that for
+a patriotic sang, Mistress McOstrich?'
+
+'Oh, splendid--splendid!' replied Mrs. McOstrich with a nervous
+start.  For the last five minutes she had been lost in furtive
+contemplation of her two youthful guests, her withered countenance
+more melancholy even than usual.
+
+Ten o'clock struck, and, to Macgregor's ill-disguised delight,
+Christina rose and said she must be going.
+
+Mrs. McOstrich accompanied the two to the outer door.  There she
+took Christina's hand, stroked it once or twice, and let it go.
+
+'Macgreegor has been a frien' o' mines since he was a gey wee
+laddie,' she said, 'an' I'm rael prood to ha'e had his intended in
+ma hoose.  I'll never forget neither o' ye.  If I had had a laddie
+o' ma ain, I couldna ha'e wished him to dae better nor Macgreegor
+has done--in every way.' Abruptly she pressed something into
+Christina's hand and closed the girl's fingers upon it.  'Dinna
+look at it noo,' she went on hastily.  'It's yours, dearie, but
+ye'll gi'e it to Macgreegor when the time comes for him to--to
+gang.  Ma grandfayther was a dandy in his way, an' it's a' he left
+me, though I had great expectations.'
+
+Gently she pushed the pair of them forth and closed the door.
+
+At the foot of the stair, under a feeble gas-jet, Christina opened
+her hand, disclosing an old-fashioned ring set with a blood-stone.
+
+'Ye never tell't me she was like that,' the girl said softly, yet a
+little accusingly.
+
+'I never thought,' muttered he, truthfully enough.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+WILLIE STANDS UP
+
+It is not the most roughly nurtured of us who will rough it the
+most cheerfully.  Willie Thomson, of harsh and meagre upbringing,
+was the grumbler of his billet.  He found fault with the camp fare,
+accommodation and hours in particular, with the discipline in
+general.  Yet, oddly enough, after a fortnight or so, he seemed to
+accept the physical drill at 7 a.m. with a sort of dour
+satisfaction, though he never had a good word to say for it.
+
+His complaints at last exasperated Macgregor, who, on a certain wet
+evening, when half the men were lounging drearily within the
+billet, snapped the question:
+
+'What the blazes made ye enlist?'
+
+The answer was unexpected.  'You!'
+
+'Ye're a leear!'
+
+With great deliberation Willie arose from the bench on which he had
+been reclining.  He spat on the floor and proceeded to unbutton his
+tunic,
+
+'Nae man,' he declared, as if addressing an audience, 'calls me
+that twicet!'
+
+'Wudna be worth his while,' said his friend, carelessly.
+
+'I challenge ye to repeat it.'
+
+The tone of the words caused Macgregor to stare, but he said calmly
+enough: 'Either ye was a leear the nicht ye enlisted, or ye're a
+leear noo.  Ye can tak' yer choice.'
+
+'An' you can tak' aff yer coat!'
+
+'I dinna need to undress for to gi'e ye a hammerin', if that's what
+ye're efter.  But I'm no gaun to dae it here.  We'd baith get into
+trouble.'
+
+'Ye're henny,' said Willie.
+
+Macgregor was more puzzled than angry.  Here was Willie positively
+asking for a punching in public!
+
+'What's wrang wi' ye, Wullie?' he asked in a lowered voice.  'Wait
+till we get oor next leave.  The chaps here'll jist laugh at ye.'
+
+'It'll maybe be you they'll laugh at.  Come on, ye cooard!'
+
+By this time the other fellows had become interested, and one of
+them, commonly called Jake, the oldest in the billet, came forward.
+
+'What's up, Grocer?' he inquired of Macgregor, who had early earned
+his nickname thanks to Uncle Purdie's frequent consignments of
+dainties, which were greatly appreciated by all in the billet.
+
+'He's aff his onion,' said Macgregor, disgustedly.
+
+'He says I'm a leear,' said Willie, sullenly.  Jake's humorous
+mouth went straight, not without apparent effort.
+
+'Weel,' he said slowly, judicially, 'it's maybe a peety to fecht
+aboot a trifle like that, an' we canna permit kickin', clawin' an'
+bitin' in this genteel estayblishment; but seein' it's a dull
+evenin', an' jist for to help for to pass the time, I'll len' ye ma
+auld boxin' gloves, an' ye can bash awa' till ye're wearit.  Sam!'
+he called over his shoulder, 'fetch the gloves, an' I'll see fair
+play. . . .  I suppose.  Grocer, ye dinna want to apologeeze.'
+
+Macgregor's reply was to loosen his tunic.  He was annoyed with
+himself and irritated by Willie, but above all he resented the
+publicity of the affair.
+
+With mock solemnity Jake turned to Willie.  'In case o' yer
+decease, wud ye no like to leave a lovin' message for the aunt
+we've heard ye blessin' noo an' then?'
+
+'To pot wi' her!' muttered Willie.
+
+A high falsetto voice from the gathering' audience cried: 'Oh, ye
+bad boy, come here till I skelp ye!'--and there was a general
+laugh, in which the hapless object did not join.
+
+'Ach, dinna torment him,' Macgregor said impulsively.
+
+While willing hands fixed the gloves on the combatants the
+necessary floor space was cleared.  There were numerous offers of
+the services of seconds, but the self-constituted master of
+ceremonies, Jake, vetoed all formalities.
+
+'Let them dae battle in their ain fashion,' said he.  'It'll be
+mair fun for us.  But it's understood that first blood ends it.
+Are ye ready, lads?  Then get to wark.  Nae hittin' ablow the belt.'
+
+By this time Macgregor was beginning to feel amused.  The sight of
+Willie and himself in the big gloves tickled him.
+
+'Come on, Wullie,' he called cheerfully.
+
+'Am I a leear?' Willie demanded.
+
+'Ye are!--but ye canna help it.'
+
+'I can if I like!' yelled Willie, losing his head.  'Tak' that!'
+
+A tremendous buffet with the right intended for Macgregor's nose
+caught his forehead with a sounding whack.
+
+Thus began an extraordinary battle in which there was little
+attempt at dodging, less at guarding and none at feinting.  Each
+man confined his attentions to his opponent's face and endeavoured
+to reached the bull's eye, as it were, of the target, though that
+point was not often attained, and never with spectacular effect.
+Ere long, however, Macgregor developed a puffiness around his left
+eye while Willie exhibited a swelling lip.  Both soon were pouring
+out sweat.  They fought with frantic enthusiasm and notable waste
+of energy.
+
+The audience laughed itself into helplessness, gasping advice and
+encouragement to each with a fine lack of favouritism.
+
+'Wire in, wee yin!  Try again, pipeshanks!  Weel hit, Grocer!  That
+had him, Wullie!--ye'll be a corporal afore yer auntie!  Haw, Mac,
+that was a knock-oot, if it had struck!  Cheer up, Private Thomson;
+gi'e him the kidney punch on his whuskers!  Guid stroke.
+Grocer!--fair on his goods' entrance!  We'll be payin' for to see
+ye in pictur' hooses yet--the Brithers Basher!  Gor, this is better
+nor a funeral!  Keep it up, lads!'  And so forth.
+
+But it was far too fast to last.  A few minutes, and both were
+utterly pumped.  As though with mutual agreement, they paused
+panting.  Neither had gained any visible advantage.
+
+'Nae blood yet,' remarked some one in tones of regret mingled with
+hope.
+
+'Never heed,' interposed Jake, humanely Tak' aff their gloves.
+They've done enough.  We'll ca' it a draw--or to be conteenued in
+oor next dull evenin'--whichever they like.  I hope you twa lads
+'ll never learn scienteefic boxin'.  There's ower little fun in the
+warld nooadays.'
+
+Neither offered any resistance to the removal of the gloves.
+
+'Shake han's, lads,' said Jake.
+
+To Macgregor's surprise, Willie's hand was out before his own.
+
+'I'm a leear if ye like,' said Willie, still panting, 'but I can
+stan' up to ye noo!'
+
+'So ye can,' Macgregor admitted--a little reluctantly perhaps, for
+he had long been used to being the winner.
+
+'If I wasna teetotal,' Willie added in a burst of generosity, 'I
+wud stan' ye a drink.'
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+CORRESPONDENCE
+
+_Macgregor to Christina_
+
+MY DEAR CHRISTINA,--
+
+I was looking for your letter the whole of yesterday, but it did
+not come till this morning at 8.35 a.m., and I am sorry to say it
+is not near as nice as I expected.  Some parts is niceish, but
+others is rotten.  What for do you ask me if I have spotted many
+pretty girls here, when you know I would not be for taking the
+troubble of spoting any girl in the world but you, and besides they
+are all terrible ugly here.  Yesterday I seen 2 that made me feel
+sick.  Willie said they was on for being picked up, and he give a
+wink at one of them, and she put out her tongue at him, but no more
+happened.  They was quite young girls, though hiddeous, but Willie
+did not seem to mind their faces ['mugs' scored out].
+
+Willie is greatly changed since the last few weeks.  You would
+scarcely know him, he is that fond of exercises.  He is near as
+strong as me.  They are telling him he will be a corporal before
+his aunt, and he gets huffy.  He spoke too much about his aunt at
+the beginning, cursing and swearing like, and now he can't get away
+from it, poor sole.  It is a pity she does not send him some small
+presents now and then.  He is awful jealous of the chaps that get
+things from home; you can tell it by his face and the bad language
+he uses about the billet and the Zeppelins for 2 hours after.  So
+just for fun, when I was writing to Uncle Purdie, I said please
+send the next parcel addressed to Pte. Wm. Thomson.  Willie got it
+last night.  He never let on he was pleased, but he was.  He was
+freer nor I expected him to be with the groceries, but he eat a tin
+of salmon all by his lone, and in the middle of the night, at 3.15
+a.m., he was took horrid bad, and 7 of the chaps made him take
+their private meddicines, and he could not turn out for physical
+exercise in the morning, but is now much better, and has made a
+good tea, and is eating 1 lb. cokernut lozenges at this very
+minute.
+
+I have no more news.  But, dear Christina, I am not well pleased
+with your letter at all.  I am quite disconsoled about it.  It
+makes me feel like wet cold feet that has no hopes of ever getting
+dry and cosy again.  When I seen yourself last Friday night I was
+not feared for anything, for you was that kind and soft-hearted,
+and you laughed that gentle and pretty, and your words did sound
+sweet even when they was chaffing-like.  But now I am fearing
+something has gone wrong.  Are you offended?  I did not mean to do
+so.  Have you got tired of me?  I would think _yes_ at once, if you
+was the common sort of girl, but you are the honest sort that would
+tell me straight, and not with hints in a letter.  So if you are
+not offended, I think you must have catched a cold in your head, or
+got something wrong with your inside.  Colds in the head is very
+permanent [? prevalent] in the billet for the present, and the
+chaps with them are ready to bite your nose off if you say a word
+to them.
+
+Dear, dear Christina, please tell me what is the matter.  I will
+not sleep well till I hear from you.  The stew for dinner to-day
+was better than the stew yesterday, but I could not take my usual.
+I am fed up with anxiousness.  Kindly write by return.  Why do you
+never put any X X X in your letters?  Do you want me to stop
+putting them in mine?
+
+  Your aff. intended,
+    M. ROBINSON.
+
+P.S.--It is not to be the Dardanelles, but we are likely going to
+Flanders next week.  Excuse writing and spelling as usual.  X X X
+Please write at once.
+
+
+_Christina to Macgregor_
+
+DEAR SIR,--
+
+Your esteemed favour duly to hand and contents noted.  I deeply
+regret that my last communication did not meet with your
+unmitigated approval, but oh, dear wee Mac, I could not write a
+lovey-dovey letter to save my only neck.  In my youth, when penny
+novels were my sole mental support, I used to see myself pouring
+forth screeds of beauteous remarks to an adoring swine 6 1/2 ft.
+high x 2 3/4 ft. broad.  But now it can't be done.  Still, I am
+sorry if my letter hurt you.  It was never meant to do that, lad.
+You must learn to take my chaff and other folks' unseriously.
+Honest, if I had been really thinking of you along with other
+girls, I would not have mentioned it.  I'm not that sort of girl,
+and I'm not the sort that gets cold in the head, either, thanking
+you all the same for kind enquiries.  But I'm by no means
+faultless.  I get what the novelists call flippant when I am
+feeling most solemn.  I was a bit down-hearted when I wrote last,
+for your letter had said 'Dardanelles.'  Now you say 'Flanders,'
+which is no better, but I am not going to cry this time.  Surely
+they won't send you away so soon, dear.
+
+Glad to hear Willie is greatly changed, and I hope he will keep on
+changing, though I could never admire a man that ate a whole tin of
+salmon in once.  I'm sure the two girls were not so dreadfully
+plain as you report.  Had they got their hair up?  Girls don't
+usually put out their tongues at young men after their hair is up,
+so I presume they were _very_ young.  It was like you to ask your
+uncle to send Willie the parcel.
+
+Miss Tod is not so brisk just now.  The doctor says she must either
+drink less tea or become a chronic dyspeptomaniac.  She prefers the
+latter.  Poor old thing, her joys are few and simple!  Trade is not
+so bad.  A new line in poetical patriotical postcards is going
+well.  The poetry is the worst yet.
+
+I am sending you some cigarettes with my uncle's best wishes and a
+pair of socks with mine.  Perhaps you have enough socks from home
+already.  If so, give them to W. T., and ask him from me to
+practise blushing.  He can begin by winking at himself in a mirror
+thrice daily.
+
+When are you going to get leave again?  Miss Tod says I can get
+away at 6, any night I want to.  No; I don't want you to stop
+putting those marks in your letters.  If you can find one in this
+letter, you may take it, and I hope it will make you half as happy
+as I want you to be.  Good-night.
+
+  CHRISTINA.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+THE FAT GIRL
+
+Never a day passed without its camp rumour.  If Macgregor was
+disposed to be over-credulous, his friend Willie was sceptical
+enough for two.
+
+'I hear we're for the Dardanelles next week,' the former observed
+one afternoon.
+
+Willie snorted.  'What the ---- wud they send us yins to the
+Dardanelles afore we ken hoo to fire a rifle?'
+
+'I heard it for a fac',' Macgregor returned imperturbably.  'They
+want us yins for begnet wark, no for snipin'.'
+
+'Begnet wark!  I'll bet ye fifty fags I get a dizzen Turks on ma
+begnet afore ye get twa on yours!'
+
+Macgregor let the boastful irrelevance pass.  'I wonder,' he said,
+thoughtfully, 'if we'll get extra leave afore we gang.'
+
+'Plenty o' leave!  Keep yer mind easy, Macgreegor.  It's a million
+in gold to a rotten banana we never get a bash at onybody.  It's
+fair putrid to think o' a' the terrible hard wark we're daein' here
+to nae purpose.  I wisht I was deid!  Can ye len' 'us a bob?'
+
+'I ha'ena got it, Wullie; honest.' Willie sadly shook his head.
+'That moll o' yours,' said he, 'is awfu' expensive.  Ye've nae
+notion o' managin' weemen.  Listen, an' I'll tell ye something.  Ye
+mind last Monday?  Weel, I had a late pass that nicht, an' I thocht
+I wud miss seein' ma aunt's ugly for wance--though it meant missin'
+a guid meal forbye.  So when I got to Glesca I picked up thon fat
+girl we used to fling rubbish at when we was young.  An', by Jings,
+she was pleased an' prood!  She stood me ma tea, includin' twa hot
+pies, an' she gi'ed me a packet o' fags--guid quality, mind
+ye!--an' she peyed for first-class sates in a pictur' hoose!
+That's hoo to dae it, ma lad!' he concluded complacently.
+
+'An' what did you gi'e her?' Macgregor inquired, after a pause.
+
+'Ma comp'ny, likewise some nice fresh air fried in naething, for I
+took her for a short walk.  I could manage wi' ninepence.'
+
+'Ach, I didna think ye was as mean as that, Wullie!  Was--was she
+guid-lookin'?'
+
+'I didna notice her face a great deal; but she's a beezer for
+stootness.  I'm gaun to meet her again on ma next leave.  If I tell
+her we've orders for the Dardanelles, there's nae guessin' what
+she'll dae for me.'
+
+'She maun be unco saft,' Macgregor commented pityingly.
+
+'Maybe the kilt had something to dae wi' it,' Willie modestly
+allowed.  'They a' adore the kilt.  Can ye no spare saxpence . . .
+weel, thruppence?'
+
+'I could spare ye a bat on the ear, but I'll tell ye what I'll dae.
+I've got some money comin' the morn, an' I'll present ye wi' twa
+bob, if ye'll tak' yer oath to spend them baith on gi'ein' the fat
+yin a treat.'
+
+Willie gasped.  'D'ye think I'm completely mad?'
+
+There's something wrang wi' ye when ye can sponge aft a girl, even
+supposin' she's fat.  So ye can tak' ma offer or a dashed guid
+hammerin' when the first chance comes.'
+
+'Dinna be sae free wi' yer hammerin's, ma lord!  Remember, it was a
+draw the last time.'
+
+'I wasna angry, an' I had gloves on.' Willie considered for a
+moment and decided to compromise.
+
+'I'll burst a bob on her to please ye.'
+
+'Twa--or a hammerin'.'
+
+'But what ---- guid is the siller gaun to dae me, if I squander it
+a' on her?  Ye micht as weel fling it in the Clyde.  She's no
+wantin' that sort o' kindness frae me.  She prefers a bit cuddle.'
+
+'Did ye cuddle her?' Macgregor asked with an interest indifferently
+concealed.
+
+'Some o' her.  But she's earnin' guid money at the ----'
+
+'I dinna suppose she wud ha'e treated ye excep' she had mair money
+nor brains.'
+
+'She wud pairt wi' her last farden for ma sake!'
+
+'Ach, awa' an' eat grass!  It's weel seen that men are scarce the
+noo.'
+
+'Mind wha ye're insultin'!'
+
+'I'm gaun up to the billet.' Macgregor said, shortly, and walked
+off.
+
+Presently, Willie, a new idea in his busy brain, overtook him.
+
+'Macgreegor, if ye len' me thruppence the noo, I'll ca' it a
+bargain aboot the twa bob.'
+
+He got the pennies then, and on the following day a florin, upon
+which he took a solemn oath.  But as he fingered the silver later
+he smiled secretly and almost serenely.  If the fat girl had stood
+him a substantial meal, cigarettes and a picture entertainment for
+nothing, what might not he expect as a return for the squandering
+of two shillings?
+
+As for Macgregor, his motives were probably not unmixed: the
+pleasure which he foresaw for the poor, fat girl was contingent on
+the agony of Willie while spending good money on a person other
+than himself.
+
+However, Willie was not long in securing a late pass, and went upon
+his jaunt in an apparently chastened state of mind, though in the
+best possible humour.
+
+He returned in the worst possible.
+
+'Twa bob clean wasted,' he grunted, squatting down by Macgregor's
+bed.  'I wish to ---- I had flung it in the Clyde when we was
+crossin' the brig.'
+
+'What gaed wrang?' inquired Macgregor, rubbing his eyes.  'Did she
+no like yer treat?'
+
+'I'll warrant she did!'
+
+'What did ye buy her wi' the twa bob?'
+
+Willie sniffed at his recollections.  'Like a ---- goat,' said he,
+'I askit her what she wud like best for twa bob, me thinkin'
+naterally she wud say a feed to stairt wi'.  I was ready for a feed
+masel'.  But she squeezed ma airm an' shoved her big face intil
+mines, an' said she wud like a sooveneer best.  To blazes wi'
+sooveneers!  An' she dragged me awa' to a shop, an' I had to buy
+her a silly-like wee tie that cost me eichteen-pence-ha'penny; an'
+then she wanted a lang ride on the caur, an' that burst fivepence;
+an' she nabbed the remainin' bawbee for a keepsake.'  The reciter
+paused as if from exhaustion.
+
+'Hurry up!' said Macgregor encouragingly.  'What did she gi'e you?'
+
+'A ---- kiss up a ---- close!  To pot wi' kissin'!  An' then she
+said she was afraid her mither wud be waitin' the ham an' egg
+supper for her, so she wud need to run, an' she was vexed she
+couldna meet me again because she had been hearin' I was a terrible
+bad character.  An' then, takin' advantage o' ma surprise, she done
+a bunk. . . .  An' if ever I ha'e ony mair truck wi' weemen, may I
+be ----'
+
+'She wasna as saft as I fancied she was,' remarked Macgregor in an
+uncertain voice.  'So ye wud jist gang to yer aunt's for yer
+supper, efter a'?'
+
+'Ay!  An' the auld cat was oot at a prayer-meetin'.  I ha'ena had a
+bite in ma mooth since denner-time.  Ha'e ye onything o' yer
+uncle's handy?'
+
+'I can gi'e ye a wee tin o' corned beef, Wullie.  Ye ken whaur to
+find it.'
+
+'Least ye can dae,' Willie growled.  'Thenk Goad it was your money!'
+
+'I'm thinkin' I've got guid value.'
+
+'What?'
+
+'Guid nicht!'  And stuffing some blanket into his mouth, Macgregor
+rolled over and quaked with imprisoned mirth.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+THE ALARM
+
+It came, as Christina would have expressed it in her early days,
+like a 'blot from the blue.'  On a certain fine morning, while
+battalion drill was in progress, a mounted officer dashed upon the
+scene and was forthwith engaged in earnest conversation with the
+colonel.  The news was evidently urgent, and it was received with
+an obvious gravity.  A thrill ran through the ranks; you would have
+fancied you heard breaths of anticipation.
+
+A minute later the companies were making for camp at the double.
+Arrived there they were instructed to repair to billets and, with
+all speed, pack up.  And presently ammunition was being served out,
+a hundred rounds to each man; and, later, 'iron' rations.
+
+'We're awa' noo!' gasped Macgregor, recovering forcibly from
+Willie's greedy clutch a pair of socks knitted by Christina.
+
+'Ay, we're awa'; an' I'll bet ye we're for Flanders,' said Willie,
+no less excited.
+
+'Dardanelles!' shouted Macgregor, above the din that filled the
+billet.
+
+'Flanders!' yelled Willie, wildly, and started to
+dance--unfortunately upon a thin piece of soap.
+
+'Dardanelles!' Macgregor repeated as he gave his friend a hand up.
+
+'Oh ----!' groaned Willie, rubbing the back of his head.  'But
+what'll ye bet?'
+
+'What ha'e ye got?'
+
+'I'll bet ye thruppence--the thruppence ye lent me the day afore
+yesterday.'
+
+'Done!  If ye win, we'll be quits; if ye loss----'
+
+'Na, na!  If I win, ye'll ha'e to pay me----'
+
+'Ach, I've nae time to listen to ye.  I've twa letters to write.'
+
+'Letters!  What aboot the bet?'
+
+'Awa' an' chase yersel'! Are ye no gaun to drap a line to yer aunt?'
+
+'No dashed likely!  She's never sent the postal order I asked her
+for.  If I had got it, I wud ha'e payed what I'm owin' ye,
+Macgreegor.  By heavens, I wud!  I'll tak' ma oath I----'
+
+'Aweel, never heed aboot that,' Macgregor said, soothingly.  'Send
+her a post caird an' let me get peace for three meenutes.'
+
+'Ye canna get peace in this,' said Willie, with a glance round the
+tumultuous billet.
+
+'I can--if ye haud yer silly tongue.' Macgregor thereupon got his
+pad and envelopes (a gift from Miss Tod), squatted on his bed, and
+proceeded to gnaw his pencil.  The voice of the sergeant was heard
+ordering the men to hurry up.
+
+'I'll tell ye what I'll dae,' said Willie, sitting down at his
+friend's elbow.  'I'll bet ye a' I owe ye to a bob it's Flanders.
+Ye see, I'll maybe get shot, an' I dinna want to dee in debt.  An'
+I'll send the auld cat a caird wi' something nice on it, to please
+ye . . . .  Eh?'
+
+'Aw, onything ye like, but for ony sake clay up!  Shift!' cried the
+distracted Macgregor.
+
+'Weel gi'e's a fag . . . .  an' a match,' said Willie.
+
+He received them in his face, but merely grinned as he languidly
+removed himself.
+
+The two scrawls so hastily and under such difficulties produced by
+Macgregor are sacred.  He would never write anything more boyish
+and loving, nor yet more manly and brave, than those 'few lines' to
+his mother and sweetheart.  There was no time left for posting them
+when the order came to fall in, but he anticipated an opportunity
+at one of the stations on the journey south.
+
+Out in the sunshine stood the hundreds of lads whose training had
+been so brief that some carried ammunition for the first time.
+There were few grave faces, though possibly some of the many grins
+were more reflected than original.  Yet there was a fine general
+air of eagerness, and at the word 'attention' the varied
+expressions gave place to one of determination.
+
+Boom! boom! boom! . . .  Boom! boom!  boom!  Dirl and skirl; skirl
+and dirl!  So to the heart-lifting, hell-raising music of pipes and
+drums they marched down to the railway.
+
+At the station it seemed as though they had been expected to break
+all records in military entraining.  There was terrific haste and
+occasional confusion, the latter at the loading of the vans.  The
+enthusiasm was equalled only by the perspiration.  But at last
+everything and nearly everybody was aboard, and the rumour went
+along that they had actually broken such and such a battalion's
+record.
+
+Private William Thomson, however, had already started his
+inevitable grumbling.  There were eight in the compartment, and he
+had stupidly omitted to secure a corner seat.
+
+'I'll bet ye I'm a corp afore we get to Dover,' he bleated.
+
+'That's as near as ever ye'll be to bein' a corporal,' remarked the
+cheerful Jake.  'But hoo d'ye ken it'll be Dover?'
+
+'I'll bet ye ---- Na!  I'll no tak' on ony mair wagers.  I've a
+tremenjous bet on wi' this yin'--indicating Macgregor--'every
+dashed penny I possess--that we're boun' for Flanders.  He says the
+Dardanelles.'
+
+All excepting Macgregor fell to debating the question.  He had just
+remembered something he had forgotten to say to Christina; also, he
+was going away without the ring she was to have given him.  He was
+not sorry he was going, but he felt sad. . . .
+
+The debate waxed furious.
+
+'I tell ye,' bawled Willie, 'we're for Flanders!  The Ninth's been
+there since the----'
+
+A sudden silence!  What the ---- was that?  Surely not--ay, it
+was!--an order to detrain!
+
+And soon the whisper went round that they were not bound for
+anywhere--unless the ---- old camp.  The morning's alarm and all
+that followed had been merely by way of practice.
+
+At such a time different men have different feelings, or, at least,
+different ways of expressing them.  Jake laughed philosophically
+and appeared to dismiss the whole affair.  Willie swore with a
+curious and seemingly unnecessary bitterness, at frequent
+intervals, for the next hour or so.  Macgregor remained in a
+semi-stunned condition of mind until the opportunity came for
+making a little private bonfire of the two letters; after which
+melancholy operation he straightway recovered his usual good
+spirits.
+
+'Never heed, Wullie,' he said, later; 'we'll get oor chance yet.'
+
+Willie exploded.  'What for did ye get me to mak' sic a ---- cod o'
+masel'?'
+
+'Cod o' yersel'?  Me?'
+
+'Ay, you!--gettin' me to send a caird to ma ---- aunt!  What for
+did ye dae it?'
+
+Macgregor stared.  'But ye didna post it,' he began.
+
+'Ay, but I did.  I gi'ed it to a man at the station.'
+
+'Oh! . . .  Weel, ye'll just ha'e to send her anither.'
+
+'That'll no mak' me less o' a cod.'
+
+'What way?  What did ye write on the caird?'
+
+Willie hesitated, muttered a few curses, and said slowly yet
+savagely:--
+
+'"Off to Flanders, wi'--wi' kind love"--_oh, dammit_!'
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+AN INVITATION
+
+After considering the matter at intervals for about thirty years,
+Miss Tod, Christina's employer, decided to take a short change of
+air by accepting the long-standing invitation of an old and aged
+friend who dwelt in the country.  The hour of departure arriving,
+she shed tears, expressed the fear that she was going to her death,
+embraced the girl, handed her the keys of the premises, and
+requested her to make any use she pleased of the rather stuffy
+living-room behind the shop.
+
+Christina had no notion of accepting the offer until, an hour or
+two later, the idea struck her that it would be fun to give a
+little tea party for Macgregor and Willie Thomson.  She knew Willie
+but slightly, but though her respect was no greater than her
+knowledge, she had kept a softish corner for him since the day, two
+years ago, when he had gone out of his way to inform her,
+impudently enough, that his friend Macgregor was not courting a
+certain rather bold and attractive damsel called Jessie Mary.
+
+So she wrote forthwith to Macgregor and enclosed the following
+invitation, in her neatest writing, for his friend:--
+
+  Miss Christina Baldwin requests
+  the unspeakable pleasure of
+  Pte. William Thomson's company
+
+    to T. T. Tea
+
+  on the first evening possible
+  (Sunday excepted) at 5.30
+  precisely till 7 prompt.
+
+    Menu.
+
+  Sandwiches, Sausage Rolls,
+  Hot Cookies, Cream Dittos,
+  Macaroons, Cheesecakes,
+  Currant Cakes, Jam Puffs,
+  Imperial (_nee_ German) Biscuits,
+    And
+  NO BREAD.
+  God Save the King!
+
+  P.S.--Miss C. B. will expect
+  Pte. W. T. to Ask a Blessing.
+
+
+It took time and patience on Macgregor's part to persuade his
+friend that the missive was not a 'cod'; but once convinced of its
+genuineness, Willie took the business seriously.  He swore,
+however, to have nothing to do with the matter of the P.S.
+Nevertheless, in moments of solitude, his lips might have been
+observed to move diligently, and it is possible that he was
+mentally rehearsing 'For what we are about to receive, etc.'  His
+written acceptance was a model in its way.
+
+'Coming with thanks,--Yours truly, W. THOMSON.'
+
+
+By the same post he wrote to his aunt--for cash; but her reply
+consisting of a tract headed with a picture of a young man in the
+remnants of a bath towel dining in a pig-sty, he was compelled once
+more to appeal to Macgregor, who fortunately happened to be fairly
+flush.  He expended the borrowed shilling on a cane and a packet of
+Breath Perfumers for himself, and for Christina a box of toffee
+which, being anhungered while on sentry duty the same night, he
+speedily devoured with more relish than regret.
+
+Unless we reckon evenings spent in Macgregor's home in the small
+boy period, and a funeral or two, Willie's experience of tea
+parties was nil.  Despite his frequently expressed contempt for
+such 'footerin' affairs,' he was secretly flattered by Christina's
+invitation.  At the same time, he suffered considerable anguish of
+mind on account of his ignorance of the 'fancy behaviour' which he
+deemed indispensable in the presence of a hostess whom he
+considered 'awfu' genteel.'  With reluctance, but in sheer
+desperation, he applied to his seldom-failing friend.
+
+'What the blazes,' he began with affected unconcern, 'dae ye dae at
+a tea pairty?'
+
+'Eat an' jaw,' came the succinct reply.
+
+'But what dae ye jaw aboot?'
+
+'Onything ye like--as long as ye leave oot the bad language.'
+
+'I doobt I'll no ha'e muckle to say,' sighed Willie.
+
+'She'll want to hear aboot the camp an' so on,' Macgregor said, by
+way of encouragement.
+
+'But that'll be piper's news to her.  You've tell't her----'
+
+'I've never had the time.'
+
+Willie gasped.  'What the ---- dae you an' her jaw aboot?'
+
+'Nane o' your business!'
+
+'Haw, haw!' laughed Willie, mirthlessly.  'My! but ye're a spoony
+deevil!--nae offence intendit.'  The apology was made hastily owing
+to a sudden change in Macgregor's expression and colour.
+
+Macgregor lit a cigarette and returned his well-stocked aluminium
+case to his pocket.
+
+The silence was broken by Willie.
+
+'Savin' up?'
+
+'Ay.'
+
+'It's a dashed bad habit, Macgreegor.  Dinna let it grow on ye.  If
+naebody saved up, everybody wud be weel aff. . . .  Aweel, what
+maun be maun be.'  And, groaning, Private Thomson drew forth a
+packet which his friend had 'stood' him the previous day.
+'Regairdin' this tea pairty,' he resumed, 'are ye supposed to eat
+a' ye can an' leave what ye canna--if there's onything to leave?'
+
+'She'll expect ye to eat a' ye can.'
+
+'It's easy seen she doesna ken me.'
+
+'Oh, she'll be prepared for the warst, Wullie,' said Macgregor, his
+good-humour returned.  'I can shift a bit masel' when I'm in form.'
+
+Whereat Willie's countenance was illuminated by a happy thought.
+'I'll bet ye a tanner I'll shift mair nor you!'
+
+Macgregor laughed and shook his head.  'If you an' me was gaun oor
+lane to restewrant, I wud tak' ye on; but----'
+
+'Aw, ye mean it wudna be the thing a tea pairty?'
+
+'Hardly.'
+
+'Weel, weel,' said Willie, with sorry resignation, 'honest money's
+ill to earn.  It wud ha'e been a snip for me.  Ha'e ye a match?
+'Having lit up: 'Tell us what else I maunna dae at the pairty.'
+
+Macgregor scratched his head.  'If it had been a denner pairty,' he
+said slowly, thinking doubtless of Aunt Purdie's, 'I could ha'e
+gi'ed ye a queer list; but ye canna gang faur wrang at a tea
+pairty.'
+
+'I dinna want to gang an inch wrang.'
+
+'Weel, then, for instance, some folk objec's to a chap sookin' his
+tea frae his saucer----'
+
+'I'll note that.  Fire awa'!'
+
+'An' if a cream cookie bursts----'
+
+'Dae they burst whiles?'
+
+'Up yer sleeve, as a rule,' said Macgregor very solemnly.
+
+'Guid Goad!  I'll pass the cream cookies.'
+
+'But they're awfu' tasty.'
+
+'Are they? . . .  Weel, what dae ye dae if it bursts?'
+
+'Never let bug.'
+
+'Ay, but--but what aboot the cream?'
+
+'Best cairry an extra hanky an' plug yer sleeve wi' it.'
+
+After a dismal pause, Willie inquired: 'Could ye no get her to
+leave the cream cookies oot o' her programme, Macgreegor?'
+
+Macgregor looked dubious.  'She's gey saft on them hersel', an' she
+micht be offendit if we refused them.  Of course they dinna scoot
+up the sleeve every time.'
+
+'Oh!'--more hopefully.
+
+'Whiles they explode doon the waistcoat--I mean tunic.'
+
+'That's enough!' wailed Willie.  'If the Clyde was handy, I wud
+gang an' droon masel'!'
+
+On the third day following, they obtained late passes.  Willie's
+uneasiness was considerable, yet so was his vanity.  He affected an
+absurdly devil-may-care deportment which so stirred Macgregor's
+sense of pity that he had thoughts of taking back what he had said
+about the cream cookies.  But at the last moment his bootlace
+snapped. . . .
+
+Willie's toilet was the most careful he had ever made, and included
+an application of exceeding fragrant pomade pilfered from his
+corporal's supply and laid on thickly enough to stop a leak.
+Finally, having armed himself with his new cane and put seven
+breath perfumers and a cigarette in his mouth, he approached the
+stooping Macgregor and declared himself ready for the road.
+
+'What's that atrocious smell?' demanded Macgregor, with unwonted
+crustiness.
+
+For once in his life Willie had no answer at hand, and for once he
+blushed.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+A TEA-PARTY
+
+Christina was serving a customer when her two guests entered the
+shop.  Unembarrassed she beamed on both and signed to Macgregor to
+go 'right in.' So Macgregor conducted his friend, who during the
+journey had betrayed increasing indications of 'funk,' into the
+absent owner's living-room, which Christina had contrived to make
+brighter looking than for many a year.
+
+At the sight of the laden table Willie took fright and declared his
+intention of doing an immediate 'slope.'  'Ye didna tell me,' he
+complained, 'there was to be a big compn'y.'
+
+Macgregor grabbed him by the arm.  'Keep yer hair on, Wullie.
+There'll be naebody but the three o' us.  There's nae scrimp aboot
+Christina,' he added with pride.
+
+'I believe ye!' responded the reassured guest.  'Gor, I never seen
+as much pastries in a' ma born days--no but what I'm ready to dae
+ma bit.'
+
+Just then Christina entered, remarking:
+
+'It's an awfu' job tryin' to sell what a person doesna want to a
+person that wants what ye ha'ena got; but I done it this time.
+Evenin', Mac.  Mr. Thomson, I am delighted to meet ye.'
+
+'Aw,' murmured Willie helplessly.
+
+'Dinna terrify him,' Macgregor whispered.
+
+'Sorry,' she said with quick compunction.  'I'm gled to see ye,
+Wullie.  Sit doon an' feel at hame.  The kettle's jist at the bile.
+See, tak' Miss Tod's chair.  She'll like to think that a sojer sat
+in it.  She'll never ha'e been as near to a man.  I was askin' her
+the ither nicht if she had ever had a lad.  The answer was in the
+negative.'
+
+'Maybe,' Macgregor suggested, 'she didna like to tell ye the truth.'
+
+Christina smiled gently, saying, 'Ye've a lot to learn aboot us
+females, Mac.'
+
+'By Jings, ye're richt there!' Willie exploded, and immediately
+subsided in confusion.
+
+'Ay,' she agreed placidly; 'he's no a connoisseur like you, Wullie.
+Talkin' o' females, hoo's yer aunt keepin'?'
+
+'Rotten--at least she was fine the last time I seen her ugly.'
+
+'The decay seems to ha'e been rapid.  But, seriously, it's a peety
+ye canna love yer aunt better----'
+
+Love her! Oh, help!'  The 'p' was sounded just in time, and Willie
+glanced at Macgregor to see whether he had noticed the stumble.
+
+Macgregor, however, had forgotten Willie--unless, perhaps to wish
+him a hundred miles away.  Christina was wearing a new white blouse
+which showed a little bit of her neck, with a bow of her favourite
+scarlet at the opening.
+
+'D'ye ken what ma aunt done to me the ither day?' Willie proceeded,
+craving for sympathy.  'I was terrible hard up, an' I wrote her a
+nice letter on a caird wi' a view o' Glesca Cathedral on it,
+includin' the graveyaird--cost me a penny; an' what dae ye think
+she sent me back?  A bl--oomin' trac'!'
+
+At that moment the kettle boiled, and Christina, exclaiming 'Oh,
+mercy!' sprang to the hearth.  Over her shoulder she said in a
+voice that wavered slightly:
+
+'That was hard cheese, Wullie, but ye maun send her a cheerier-like
+caird next time.  I'll stand ye an optimistic specimen afore ye
+leave the shop.'
+
+'Thenk ye!  A--of course we'll ha'e to draw the line at picturs o'
+folk dookin' in the sad sea waves or canoodlin' on the shore----'
+
+Christina, teapot in one hand, kettle in the other, burst out
+laughing.
+
+'Mind ye dinna burn yersel'!' cried Macgregor, starting into life.
+
+'Haud the kettle, Mac,' said she.  'It's no fair o' Wullie to be
+sae funny.'
+
+'I wasna funny!' Willie protested.
+
+'It's yer notion o' the optimistic that tickled me,' she said.
+'Pour, Mac; I'm steady noo.  But ye're quite richt, Wullie.  We
+canna be ower discreet when cash is involved.  I'll get some
+high-class cairds for ye to inspect till the tea's infused.'
+
+Macgregor would dearly have liked to follow her into the shop.
+
+'She's a clinker,' observed Willie under his breath.
+
+'Eh?'
+
+'Naething.'
+
+Which was all the conversation during the absence of the hostess.
+
+She returned with a tray.  Willie was tempted by a card with the
+'V.C.' emblazoned on it, but feared it would look 'swanky' on his
+part.  Though hampered by the adverse criticisms of Macgregor, who
+naturally wanted to hold Christina's hand under cover of the table
+as long as possible, he succeeded at last in choosing one entitled
+'The Soldier's Return,' depicting a bronzed youth running to
+embrace an old lady awaiting him in a cottage porch.
+
+'If that doesna touch the spot,' said Christina, 'I'm a duchess.'
+
+They sat down to tea.
+
+Much to Willie's relief, Christina apparently forgot all about a
+blessing.  Anxious to please, he expressed admiration at the
+abundance of good things.
+
+'I like to see a table groanin',' said the hospitable hostess.
+
+'There'll be mair nor the table groanin' afore lang,' observed
+Macgregor.
+
+They all laughed like happy people, especially Willie, until with a
+start he remembered the cream cookies and his omission to bring an
+extra hanky.  All the same, he proceeded to enjoy himself pretty
+heartily, and did the agreeable to the best of his ability,
+furnishing sundry anecdotes of camp life which were as new to
+Macgregor as they probably were to himself.  At last--
+
+'Try a cream cookie,' said Christina.
+
+But he could not face it.  'Cream,' he said mournfully, 'doesna
+agree wi' me.  The last time I had cream--ma aunt had got it in for
+her cat that had the staggers--I lay in agony for three days an'
+three nichts an' several 'oors into the bargain.  Ma aunt feared I
+was gaun to croak ma last.'
+
+Macgregor made a choking sound, while Christina gravely hoped that
+the cat had also recovered, and passed the macaroons.
+
+'Thenk ye,' said Willie, and readily resumed operations.  But he
+was not a little disgusted to note presently that Christina and
+Macgregor enjoyed their cream cookies without the slightest mishap.
+
+His geniality was not fully restored until, at the end of the meal,
+Christina laid a box of superior cigarettes between her two guests.
+
+'May I drap deid in five meenutes,' he declared, 'if ever I was
+treated like this afore!  Macgreegor, ye're jist a damp lucky
+deevil!'
+
+'Oh, whisht!' said Christina smiling.
+
+'Ye should get a girl, Wullie,' Macgregor remarked with the air of
+an old married man.
+
+'I ha'ena your luck, ma lad.  If I was trustin' a girl, I'll bet ye
+a bob she wud turn oot to be yin o' the sort that pinches a chap's
+wages afore they're warmed in his pooch, an' objec's to him smokin'
+a fag, an' tak's the huff if he calls her fig-face.'
+
+'I'm afraid ye're a pessimist,' Christina said.  'I used to dae a
+bit in that line masel'.  Ma favourite motto was: "Cheer up--ye'll
+soon be deid!"  But I got past that, an' so will you.'
+
+With a sardonic smile Willie shook his head and took another
+cigarette; and just then Christina had to go to attend to a
+customer.
+
+Willie turned to his friend.   'Thon was a dirty trick aboot the
+cookies.  I've a guid mind to bide here as lang as you.'
+
+'I didna think ye wud hae been feart for a cookie, Wullie.  Of
+course, I'll never tell her.'
+
+'Weel, I accep' yer apology.  Can ye len' us thruppence?  I want to
+purchase some War Loan. . . .  By Jings, ye're no a bad sort,
+Macgreegor. . . .  Hoo dae ye think I behaved masel'?'
+
+'No that bad.'
+
+'Weel, I want ye to tell her I ha'end enjoyed masel' sae much since
+ma Uncle Peter's funeral, ten year back.'
+
+'Tell her yersel'.'
+
+Willie pocketed a few of the superior cigarettes, and rose.  'It's
+sax-thirty,' he said.  'Her an' you'll be nane the waur o' hauf an'
+'oor in private.  See?  So long!  She's a clinker!'
+
+And before Macgregor realized it, Willie had bolted through the
+shop and into the street.
+
+Christina returned, her eyes wide.  'What gaed wrang wi' him, Mac?'
+
+'Come here an' I'll tell ye.'
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+MISS TOD RETURNS
+
+'It was awfu' dacent o' Wullie to clear oot,' Macgregor remarked
+happily, as he moved his chair close to the one on which Christina
+had just seated herself.
+
+Christina's chin went up.  'It wud ha'e been dacenter o' him to
+ha'e waited till the time he was invited to wait.'
+
+'But he meant weel.  I'm sure he didna want to gang, but he fancied
+it wud be nice to let you an' me ha'e a--a . . .'
+
+'I beg yer pardon?'
+
+'Ach, ye ken what I mean.  He fancied we wud enjoy a wee whiley
+jist by oorsel's.'
+
+'Speak for yersel'! I'm thinkin' it was exceedingly rude o' him to
+slope wi'oot tellin' me he had enjoyed his tea.'
+
+'He asked me to tell ye that he hadna enjoyed hissel' sae weel
+since his uncle's funeral, ten year back.'
+
+Christina gave a little sniff.  'That's a nice sort o' compliment.
+Funeral, indeed!'
+
+'Christina! what's vexin' ye?'
+
+'Wha said I was vexed?'
+
+'I've seen ye lookin' happier.'
+
+'Are ye a judge o' happiness?'
+
+'I ken when I'm no happy--an' that's the noo.  But I warn ye, I'm
+no gaun to stick it!'
+
+'What's made ye unhappy?' she coldly inquired.
+
+'You !'
+
+'Dear me!'--ironically.
+
+'Ay, jist dear you!'  And with these words he caught her round the
+shoulders and kissed her.
+
+Breathless and rather ruffled she exclaimed, 'If ye dae that again,
+I'll----'
+
+He did it again.
+
+'Ye're gettin' terrible forward,' she said, half angry, half amused.
+
+'High time!'
+
+She regarded him with amazement.
+
+Suddenly he said: 'Ye're as much mines as I'm yours.  Deny it, if
+ye can.'
+
+For perhaps the first time in her life Christina temporized.  'Can
+ye sweer ye didna arrange wi' Wullie to leave early?'
+
+'Eh?'
+
+The note of innocence satisfied her.  'Weel,' she said graciously,
+'I forgive ye.'
+
+'What for?'
+
+'Takin' liberties.'
+
+Her lips wavered to a smile and he could not refrain from kissing
+them once more.
+
+'Here, hauf time!' she cried, and burst out laughing.
+
+'This is the best yet,' he said jubilantly.  'Three goals in twa
+meenutes!  In future I'll kiss ye as often as I like.'
+
+'We'll see aboot that. . . .  The sojerin' has changed ye a lot,'
+she added thoughtfully.
+
+'D'ye no like the improvement?'
+
+'I'll tell ye when I observe it.  Noo sit still an' behave yersel',
+an' tell me the latest camp rumours.'
+
+Just then the bell over the door in the shop went off.
+
+'Oh, dash yer customers!' said Macgregor.
+
+Christina was moving from the room when----
+
+'Are ye there, dearie?' called a familiar female voice.
+
+'Holy Moses!' she whispered.  'It's Miss Tod, hame three days afore
+her time.'
+
+'Oh, criffens!' gasped Macgregor.  'What'll I dae?'
+
+'Ye can either hide in the coal bunker, or bide whaur ye are--like
+a sojer.  She'll no devour ye.'
+
+Christina then ran out to receive her employer, which she did
+without embarrassment.
+
+'What a peety ye're ower late for ma wee tea-pairty.  An' hoo are
+ye?' Macgregor heard her saying.
+
+'Aw, I was sweirt to disturb ye wi' yer' frien's, lassie,' replied
+Miss Tod, who had been advised by postcard of Christina's doings,
+'but I _couldna_ bide in thon place anither nicht.'
+
+'Dear, dear!' the girl said sympathizingly.  'Did ye no get on wi'
+yer auld frien', or did the poultry attack ye?  Come ben, come ben.
+There's jist Macgreegor left, an' he hasna consumed absolutely
+everything.  I'll get ye a cup o' fresh tea in a jiffy.'
+
+Smiling faintly but kindly, Miss Tod greeted Macgregor, apologized
+for disturbing him, and subsided into her old chair.
+
+'Oh, I'm thenkfu' to be hame,' she sighed, while Christina flew to
+her hospitable duties.  'Ye've got the room awfu' nice, dearie.'
+
+'Does the smell o' the ceegarettes annoy ye?' inquired Macgregor,
+now more at ease, though still ashamed of his recent panic.
+
+'Na, na; it's jist deleecious,' she protested, 'efter the smell o'
+the country.'
+
+'Did ye no like the country, Miss Tod?'
+
+'Maybe I could ha'e endured it till the week was up, if it hadna
+been for ma auld frien'.  Ye see, the puir body couldna speak or
+think o' onything excep' airyplanes fleein' through the air an'
+drappin' bombs on her dwellin' hoose an' her hen-hoose, no
+forgettin' her pig-hoose.  Mornin', noon an' nicht, she kep'
+speirin' at me if I was prepared to meet ma Maker, maybe wantin' a
+leg.  Oh, I was rale vexed for her, I tell ye, but when she took
+the mattress aff ma bed to protect her sewin' machine frae bombs, I
+says to masel': 'If I've got to dee, I wud like to dae it as
+comfortable as I can, an' I'm sure ma Maker'll no objec' to
+that . . .  an' so, at last, I jist tied up ma things in the broon paper,
+an' said I had enjoyed masel' fine, but was anxious aboot the
+shop--a terrible falsehood, dearie!--an' gaed to catch the sax
+o'clock train, an' catched the yin afore it. . . .  An' here I am.
+I wud ha'e let ye enjoy yer pairty in peace, but what wi' the
+forebodin's o' ma auld frien' an' the scent o' the hens an' pigs, I
+could thole nae longer.'
+
+'In short,' Christina brightly remarked, 'ye was completely fed up.
+Weel, weel, ye'll sune forget aboot yer troubles in the joys o'
+pursuin' pastries.  We'll fetch the table close to ye so as ye can
+fall to wi'oot unduly streetchin' yer neck.  Mac, get busy!  Toast
+this cookie.'
+
+'She's a great manager,' Miss Tod said, smiling to Macgregor.  'But
+she'll mak' ye a rael guid wife when ye come back frae the wars----'
+
+'Oh, whisht, Miss Tod!' cried Christina.  'Ye'll cause him to
+blush.'  Which was rather a mean way of diverting attention from
+her own complexion.
+
+However, at that moment the bell rang, and exclaiming, 'Anither
+boom in trade!' she darted into the shop.
+
+The customer seemed to be in a great hurry, for almost immediately
+she reappeared in the sitting-room.  She was smiling and carried a
+small package in her hand.
+
+'Guess wha it was,' said she.
+
+'The meenister,' replied Miss Tod, who for some mysterious reason
+always guessed the reverend gentleman, who happened to be a
+customer.
+
+'On the contrary,' said Christina.
+
+'Wullie Thomson,' said Macgregor, suddenly remembering the borrowed
+threepence.
+
+'Up dux!  Ye deserve a sweetie.'  She presented the bag, open.
+'What sort are they?'
+
+He laughed and answered--'War Loan Lozengers.'
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+AUNT PURDIE INTERVENES
+
+The battalion was not an hour returned from the longest, hottest,
+dustiest and most exhausting route march yet experienced.
+Macgregor was stretched on his bed, a newspaper over his face, when
+an orderly shook him and shoved a visiting card into his hand.
+
+'She's waitin' ootside,' he said and, with a laugh, departed.
+
+Macgregor rubbed his eyes and read:
+
+  MRS. ROBERT PURDIE.
+  13, _King's Mansions, W_          _3rd Wednesday._
+
+'Oh, criffens!' he groaned.  'Ma aunt!' And proceeded with more
+haste than alacrity to tidy himself, while wondering what on earth
+she had come for.
+
+Willie, scenting profit in a rich relation, though not his own,
+proffered his company, which was rather curtly refused.
+Nevertheless, he followed his friend.
+
+Macgregor joined his aunt in the blazing sunshine.   Her greeting
+was kindly if patronizing.
+
+'Sorry to keep ye waitin', Aunt Purdie,' he said respectfully.  'If
+I had kent ye was comin'----'
+
+'I understood a good soldier was always prepared for any
+emergency----'
+
+'Excep' when he's aff duty, mistress.' This from Willie, who had
+taken up his position a little way behind Macgregor, an
+ingratiating grin on his countenance.
+
+Aunt Purdie drew up her tall, gaunt, richly-clad figure and
+examined Private Thomson through eye-glasses on a long
+tortoise-shell handle.
+
+'Macgregor, who is this gentleman?'
+
+'It's jist Wullie Thomson,' said Macgregor, annoyed but reluctant
+to hurt his friend's feelings.  'D'ye no mind him?'
+
+'I have a very exclusive memory for faces. . .  Dear me, he is
+going away!'
+
+It was so.  Either the glasses, or being called a gentleman, or
+both, had been too much even for Willie.
+
+'Is the colonel in the vicinity?' Aunt Purdie demanded, recalling
+Macgregor's wondering gaze from the retreating figure.
+
+'I couldna say.   He's liker to be in a cauld bath.'
+
+'You have, of course, informed him who your uncle is?'
+
+'Me an' the colonel ha'ena done much hob-nobbin' as yet,' Macgregor
+said, smiling.
+
+'His mother used to obtain her groceries from your uncle.  If you
+could have presented the colonel to me--well, never mind.  I
+presume the major is on the _quee vive_.'
+
+'He'll be ha'ein' a wash an' brush up, I wud say.'
+
+'But why are you not being drilled or digging up trenches or firing
+guns----'
+
+'We're a' deid men this efternune.  Had a big rout mairch the day.'
+
+'Oh, indeed!  Well, when does the band play?'
+
+'The baun's burstit wi' the rout mairch.  It couldna blaw the ash
+aff a ceegarette.  I'm rael sorry----'
+
+'I would like to inspect the apartments you live in.  Pray conduct
+me----'
+
+'Some o' the chaps is cleanin' theirsel's.  If ye like, I'll tell
+them to hurry up or get ablow the blankets.'
+
+'Certainly not!' said Mrs. Purdie with decision.  'Is there no
+tea-room adjacent?'
+
+'Jist the canteen.   I doobt I couldna I tak' ye inside, but I
+could fetch ye oot a drink--something T. T., I suppose?'
+
+She waved the offer away.  'Is there nothing to be perceived or
+observed in this camp?' she inquired with some impatience.
+
+Her nephew scratched his head.  'Weel,' he said at last, 'there's
+the view frae this end, an' there's the view frae the ither end.
+I'm sorry ye've come when there's naething daein'.'
+
+'So am I.  However, it is not the time to indulge in
+discriminations.  Your uncle thought it was better for me to come
+than to write a letter.'
+
+'Is onything wrang wi' ma uncle?' Macgregor asked anxiously.
+
+'Barring an invidious bunion, he is in his usual health.  But we
+are going to Aberdeen to-morrow, for a fortnight, and we have
+invited your intended to come with us.  She----'
+
+'Christina!  But she canna gang awa' to Aberdeen when----'  He
+stopped short, at a loss.  He had an appointment with Christina for
+the following evening.  Surely----
+
+'I arranged with Miss Tod this morning.  Christina will be writing
+to you, I presume.'
+
+'She--she's gaun wi' ye?'
+
+'Certainly--D.V., of course.'
+
+'For a--a fortnicht?'
+
+'The change will be good for her.  You must not be selfish.  Your
+uncle was afraid you might be put out: that is why I came to
+explain.  But apart from the beneficial change, Christina, as I
+observed to your uncle, ought to see the world while she is young.'
+
+Macgregor answered nothing.  Possibly he did not catch her latter
+remarks.  Christina going away for a fortnight, and he might be
+ordered abroad at any moment!
+
+'Come,' said his aunt, kindly enough, 'don't be huffy.'
+
+Mercifully, just then an officer passed.  In the action of saluting
+Macgregor regained self-control.
+
+'I hope ye get guid weather at Aberdeen,' he managed to say, and
+his aunt admired him even more than at the hour of his enlistment.
+
+'Yer uncle an' me jist wishes ye was free to jine us,' she said
+with unwonted warmth and homeliness of accent.  Her hand went to
+the fastening of her purse, and hesitated.  No!  Something told her
+this was not the moment for a gift, however splendid.
+
+'Well, I must be going,' she remarked, stiffening again.  'Kindly
+conduct me to the exit.  I thought there would have been more to
+inspire the mind in this place. . . .  Good-bye.  We will take good
+care of Christina.'
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+Never in his life had Macgregor been so deeply hurt and
+angered--not even in the old days by Aunt Purdie, who was not now
+the object of his resentment.
+
+Willie, who always tried to make the best of things, insults not
+excepted, approached presently with a hopeful appeal for a loan.
+
+'Gang to blazes!' was the response.
+
+Willie could scarce believe his ears.  'Macgreegor! did she no
+cough up onything?'
+
+Macgregor walked on.
+
+'An' she fancies hersel' for a ---- swell!' exclaimed Willie
+viciously.
+
+'Anither word an' I'll knock the face aff ye!'
+
+It was Willie's turn to feel resentment.
+
+In the evening came a note from Christina, hurriedly written.  She
+was terribly busy getting ready for the morning train.  It was most
+kind of Mrs. Purdie.  Her own uncle must have let drop to Mr.
+Purdie that a summer outing this year was not possible, and Mr.
+Purdie must have told Mrs. Purdie.  . . .  Of course, she,
+Christina, would never have dreamed of going away otherwise.  But
+the time would soon pass, Mac, and she intended to enjoy it
+thoroughly. . . .
+
+If only she had left out that last sentence!  But what true lover
+has not been stabbed by something very like it in his time?
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+THE FAT GIRL AGAIN
+
+Macgregor dropped his reply to Christina's unsatisfactory note into
+the pillar-box and, half wishing he had destroyed it instead,
+rejoined the faithful Willie Thomson.  He still looked so gloomy
+that Willie once more demanded to be told what the ---- was up with
+him.  Receiving no response, Willie remarked:
+
+'If ye tak' a face like that to yer girl, she'll be wantin' to play
+a tune on it.'
+
+Macgregor held his peace.  They had just arrived in Glasgow, but
+without a trace of the usual eagerness on his part.
+
+'I believe,' said Willie, with an inspiration, 'her an' you ha'e
+cast oot.'
+
+'Clay up!  She's awa' her holidays.'
+
+'Save us!  Awa' her holidays!' cried Willie, uttering, unawares,
+his friend's bitterest thought--'an' we may get oor mairchin'
+orders ony meenute!  Weel, weel, preserve me frae the female sect!
+I suppose ye'll be for gi'ein' yer ain folk a treat for a change.'
+
+'They're a' at Rothesay, at Granpaw Purdie's,' Macgregor returned
+shortly, now half glad that he had let the letter go.
+
+It was not a harsh letter, yet neither was it a humble one.  In
+effect, it informed Christina that she was welcome to disport
+herself even though the writer lay dead in a trench.  While
+intended to be freezing, it had been written in considerable heat,
+physical and mental.
+
+'Then what are ye gaun to dae the nicht?' Willie pursued, his mind
+simmering with curiosity.  Macgregor had been very queer since his
+aunt's visit of the previous afternoon, and the arrival of a
+letter, eagerly grabbed, had by no means mitigated the queerness.
+Willie was convinced that something had gone wrong between
+Macgregor and Christina.  He would not be sorry to see the
+engagement broken.  Macgregor would have more time and cash to
+spend on his friends.  On the other hand, Christina was undoubtedly
+a 'clinker' in her way, and Willie could do with more hospitality
+like hers.  Well, there was no saying what might happen if she were
+free and Macgregor attached to another girl. . . .
+
+'What are ye gaun to dae the nicht, Macgreegor?' he repeated,
+rousing himself as well as his friend.
+
+'Dear knows,' came the dreary answer.  'I think I'll awa' back to
+the camp.'  Yet if he did not greatly desire Willie's company, he
+desired his own less.
+
+'Cheer up for ony favour,' said Willie.  'If I could afford it, I
+wud stan' ye a feed.'
+
+The hint was not taken, and they strolled on, aimlessly so far as
+Macgregor was concerned.
+
+About six o'clock, and while they were passing a large drapery
+warehouse, Willie gave his friend a violent nudge and hoarsely
+whispered:
+
+'Gor!  See thon!'
+
+'What?'
+
+'Thon girl!'--pointing to a damsel in a dark skirt and pink blouse,
+who had just emerged from the warehouse.
+
+'What aboot her?' said Macgregor impatiently,
+
+'It's her--the fat yin--the girl I burst the twa bob on!'
+
+'She's no that fat,' Macgregor remarked without interest.  Then
+suddenly--'Here!  What are ye efter?'
+
+'Her!  She's fat when ye're close to her.  Come on!  I'll
+introjuice ye.'
+
+'Thenk ye!  I'm no takin' ony.'
+
+'Jist for fun.  I want to see her face when she sees me again.'
+
+'Weel, I'll no prevent ye.  So long.' At that moment the girl was
+held up at a busy crossing.
+
+'Hullo, Maggie!' said Willie pertly.
+
+'I'm off,' said Macgregor--but his arm was gripped.
+
+The girl turned.  'Hullo,' she said coolly; 'still livin'?'
+Catching sight of Macgregor, she giggled.  It was not an unpleasing
+giggle.  Lean girls cannot produce it.
+
+'This is Private Macgreegor Robi'son,' said Willie, unabashed.
+
+She smiled and held out her hand.  After a moment she said to
+Willie: 'Are ye no gaun to tell him ma name, stupid?'
+
+'I forget it, except the Maggie.'
+
+'Aweel,' she said good-humouredly, 'Private Robi'son'll jist ha'e
+to content hissel' wi' that, though it's a terrible common name.'
+She did the giggle again.
+
+The chance of crossing came, and they all moved over; on the
+crowded pavement it was impossible to proceed three abreast.
+
+'Never mind me,' said Willie humorously.
+
+'Wha's mindin' you?' she retorted.
+
+'Gettin' hame?' said Macgregor with an effort at politeness, while
+fuming inwardly.
+
+'Jist that.  Awfu' warm weather, is't no?  It was fair meltin' in
+the warehoose the day.  I'm fair dished up.'  She heaved a sigh,
+which was no more unpleasing than her giggle.  'It's killin'
+weather for you sojer lads,' she added kindly.
+
+Macgregor experienced a wavelet of sympathy.  'Wud ye like a
+slider?' he asked abruptly.
+
+'Ye're awfu' kind.  I could dae wi' it fine.'
+
+Presently the three were seated in an ice-cream saloon.  The
+conversation was supplied mainly by the girl and Willie, and took
+the form of a wordy sparring match.  Every time she scored a point
+the girl glanced at Macgregor.  He became mildly amused by her
+repartee, and at last took a cautious look at her.
+
+She was certainly stout, but not with a clumsy stoutness; in fact,
+her figure was rather attractive.  She had dark brown hair, long
+lashed, soft, dark eyes, a provocative, mobile mouth, and a nice
+pinky-tan colouring.  At the same time, she was too frankly forward
+and consistently impudent for Macgregor's taste; and he noticed
+that her hands were not pretty like Christina's.
+
+She caught his eye, and he smiled back, but absently.  He was
+wondering what Christina was doing and how she would take his
+letter in the morning. . . .  He consulted his watch.  A long,
+empty evening lay before him.  How on earth was he to fill it?  He
+wanted distraction, and already his companions' chaff was getting
+tiresome.
+
+On the spur of the moment--'What aboot a pictur hoose?' he said.
+
+'That's the cheese!' cried Willie.
+
+But Maggie shook her head and sighed, and explained that her mother
+was expecting her home for tea, and sighed again.
+
+'Ha'e yer tea wi' us,' said the hospitable Macgregor.
+
+She glanced at him under lowered lashes, her colour rising.  'My!
+ye're awfu' kind,' she said softly.  'I wish to goodness I could.'
+
+'Scoot hame an' tell yer mither, an' we'll wait for ye here,' said
+stage-manager William.
+
+'I wudna trust _you_ . . .  but I think I could trust _him_.'
+
+'Oh, we'll wait sure enough,' Macgregor said indifferently.
+
+'I'll risk it!' she cried, and straightway departed.
+
+Willie grinned at his friend.  'What dae ye think o' fat Maggie?'
+he said.
+
+'Naething,' answered Mac, and refused to be drawn into further
+conversation.
+
+Within half an hour she was back, flushed and bright of eye.  She
+had on a pink print, crisp and fresh, a flowery hat, gloves
+carefully mended, neat shoes and transparent stockings.
+
+'By Jings, ye're dressed to kill at a thoosan' yairds!' Willie
+observed.
+
+Ignoring him, she looked anxiously for the other's approval.
+
+'D'ye like hot pies?' he inquired, rising and stretching himself.
+
+
+An hour later, in the picture house a heartrending, soul thrilling
+melodrama was at its last gasp.  The long suffering heroine was in
+the arms of the long misjudged, misfortune-ridden, but ever
+faithful hero.
+
+'Oh, lovely!' murmured Maggie.
+
+Macgregor said nothing, but his eyes were moist.  He may, or may
+not, have been conscious of a plump, warm, thinly-clad shoulder
+close against his arm.
+
+Hero and heroine vanished.  The lights went up.  Macgregor blew his
+nose, then looked past the fat girl to make a scoffing remark to
+Willie.
+
+But Willie's seat was vacant.
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+Maggie laid her ungloved hand on the adjoining seat.  'It's warm,'
+she informed Macgregor.  'He canna be lang awa'.'
+
+'Did he no say he was comin' back?' Macgregor asked rather
+irritably.
+
+'He never said a word to me.  I didna notice him gang: I was that
+ta'en up wi' the picturs.  But never heed,' she went on cheerfully;
+'it's a guid riddance o' bad rubbish.  I wonder what's next on the
+prog----
+
+'But this'll no dae!  He--he's your frien'.'
+
+'Him!  Excuse me for seemin' to smile.  I can tell ye I was
+surprised to see a dacent-like chap like you sae chummy wi' sic a
+bad character as him.'
+
+'Aw, Wullie Thomson's no near as bad as his character.  A' the
+same, he had nae business to slope wi'oot lettin' us ken.  But
+he'll likely be comin' back.  We'll wait for five meenutes an' see.'
+
+Maggie drew herself up.  'I prefer no to wait where I'm no
+welcome,' she said in a deeply offended tone, and made to rise.
+
+He caught her plump arm.  'Wha said ye wasna welcome?  Eat yer
+sweeties an' dinna talk nonsense.  If ye want to see the rest o'
+the picturs, I'm on.  I've naething else to dae the nicht.'
+
+After a slight pause.  'Dae ye want me to bide--Macgreegor?'
+
+'I'm asking ye.'
+
+She sighed.  'Ye're a queer lad.  What's yer age?'
+
+'Nineteen.'
+
+'Same as mines!'  She was twenty-two.  'When's yer birthday?'
+
+'Third o' Mairch.'
+
+'Same again!'  She had been born on the 14th of December.  'My!
+that's a strange dooble coincidence!  We ought to be guid frien's,
+you an' me.'
+
+'What for no?' said Macgregor carelessly.
+
+Once more the house was darkened.  A comic film was unrolled.  Now
+and then Macgregor chuckled with moderate heartiness.
+
+'Enjoyin' yersel'?' she said in a chocolate whisper, close to his
+ear.
+
+'So, so.'
+
+'Ye're like me.  I prefer the serious picturs.  Real life an' true
+love for me!  Ha'e a sweetie?  Oh, ye're smokin'.  As I was sayin',
+ye're a queer lad, Macgreegor.' She leaned against his arm.  'What
+made ye stan' me a slider, an' a champion tea, an' they nice
+sweeties, an' a best sate in a pictur hoose--when ye wasna extra
+keen on ma comp'ny?'
+
+'Dear knows.'
+
+She drew away from him so smartly that he turned his face towards
+her.  'Oh, crool!' she murmured, and put her handkerchief to her
+eyes.
+
+'Dinna dae that!' he whispered, alarmed.  'What's up?'
+
+'Ye--ye insulted me.'
+
+'Insulted ye!  Guid kens I didna mean it.  What did I say?'
+
+'Oh, dear, I'll never get ower it.'
+
+'Havers!  I'll apologize if ye tell me what I said.  Dinna greet,
+for ony favour.  Ye'll ha'e the folk lookin' at us.  Listen,
+Mary--that's yer name, is't no?'
+
+'It's Maggie, ye impiddent thing!'
+
+'Weel, Maggie, I apologize for whatever I said, whether I said it
+or no.  I'm no ma usual the nicht, so ye maun try for to excuse me.
+I certainly never meant for to hurt yer feelin's.'
+
+She dropped the handkerchief.  'Ha'e ye got a sair heid?'
+
+'Ay--something like that.  So let me doon easy.'
+
+She slid her hand under his which was overhanging the division
+between the seats.
+
+'I'm sorry I was silly, but I'm that tender-hearted, I was feart ye
+was takin' yer fun aff me.  I'm awfu' vexed ye've got a sair heid.
+I suppose it's the heat.  Ony objection to me callin' ye
+Macgreegor?'
+
+'That's a' richt,' he replied kindly but uneasily.
+
+Her fingers were round his, and seemingly she forgot they were
+there, even when the lights went up.  And he hadn't the courage
+--shall we say?--to withdraw them.
+
+The succeeding film depicted a throbbing love story.
+
+'This is mair in oor line,' she remarked confidentially.
+
+Every time the sentiment rose to a high temperature, which was
+pretty often, Macgregor felt a warm pressure on his fingers.  He
+had never before had a similar experience, not even in the
+half-forgotten days of Jessie Mary; for Jessie Mary had not become
+the pursuer until he had betrayed anxiety to escape from her toils.
+And he had been only seventeen then.
+
+The warm pressure made him uncomfortable, but not physically
+so--and, apart from conscience, perhaps not altogether spiritually
+so.  For, after all, it's a very sore young manly heart, indeed,
+that can refuse the solace, or distraction, offered in the close
+proximity of young womanhood of the Maggie sort and shape.  In
+other words, Macgregor may have been conscientiously afraid, but he
+had no disposition to run away.
+
+
+About nine-thirty they came out.  While he looked a little dazed
+and defiant, she appeared entirely happy and self-possessed, with
+her hand in his arm as though he had belonged to her for quite a
+long time.  But at the gorgeous portals she stopped short with a
+cry of dismay.  It was raining heavily.
+
+'I've nae umburella,' she said, piteously regarding her fine
+feathers.  'Ma things'll be ruined.'
+
+'I'll get ye a cab,' he said after some hesitation induced less by
+consideration of the expense than by the sheer novelty of the
+proceeding.  Ere she could respond he was gone.  Not without
+trouble and a thorough drenching he discovered a decrepit
+four-wheeler.
+
+Maggie had never been so proud as at the moment when he handed her
+in, awkwardly enough, but with a certain shy respectfulness which
+she found entirely delicious.
+
+He gave the man the address, learned the fare, then came back to
+the door and handed the girl the necessary money.
+
+'Na!' she cried in a panic, 'I'll no gang unless ye come wi' me.
+I--I wud be feart to sit ma lane in the cab.  Come, lad; ye've
+plenty time.'
+
+He had no more than enough, but he got in after telling the man to
+drive as quickly as possible.
+
+'Sit here,' she said, patting the cushion at her side.
+
+He obeyed, and then followed a long pause while the cab rattled
+over the granite.  She unpinned and removed her hat and leaned
+against him heavily yet softly.
+
+'Ye're no sayin' a great deal,' she remarked at last.  'What girl
+are ye thinkin' aboot?'
+
+'Ach, I'm dashed wearit,' he said.  'I didna sleep a wink last
+nicht.'
+
+'Puir sojer laddie!'  Her smooth, hot cheek touched his.  'Pit yer
+heid on ma shouther. . . .  I like ye because ye're shy . . .  but
+ye needna be ower shy.'
+
+Suddenly he gave a foolish laugh and thrust his arm round her
+waist.  She heaved a sigh of content.
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+By making all haste Macgregor managed to get back to the camp in
+advance of Willie.  He was in bed, his eyes hard shut, when his
+friend appeared in the billet.
+
+Willie, who was unusually flushed, bent over him and, sniggering,
+asked questions.  Getting no response, he retired grinning and
+winking at no one in particular.
+
+Macgregor did not sleep well.  If you could have listened to his
+secret thoughts you would have heard, among other dreary things--
+
+'But I didna kiss her; I didna kiss her.'
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+CONSCIENCE AND A COCOA-NUT
+
+With one thing and another Christina, during her first evening in
+Aberdeen, had no opportunity of sending her betrothed more than a
+postcard announcing her safe arrival; but she went to bed with
+every intention of sending him on the morrow the longest and
+sweetest letter she had ever written.  The receipt of Macgregor's
+letter, with all its implied reproaches, however, not only hurt her
+feelings, but set her pride up in arms.  'He had nae business to
+write as if I was a selfish thing; as if I had nae right to decide
+for masel'!'  As a matter of fact, her sole reason for accepting
+Mrs. Purdie's invitation had been a fear of offending Macgregor's
+important relatives by a refusal.  Heaven knew she had not wanted
+to put 150 miles between her lad and herself at such a time.
+
+Still, as Macgregor might have known by now, it was always a
+mistake to try to hustle Christina in any way.  Her reply
+condescended neither to explanations nor defence.  Written in her
+superior, and rather high-flown English, which she was well aware
+he detested, it practically ignored his epistle and took the form
+of an essay on the delights of travel, the charm of residence in
+the Northern City, the kindliness and generosity of host and
+hostess.  She was not without compunction, especially when Uncle
+Purdie expressed the hope that she was sending the lad something to
+'keep up his pecker,' but she let the letter go, telling herself
+that it would be 'good for him.'
+
+The postcard was received by Macgregor after an uneasy night and a
+shameful awakening.  The meagre message made him more miserable
+than angry.  In the circumstances it was, he felt bound to admit,
+as much as he deserved.  Mercifully, Willie had such a 'rotten
+head' that he was unable to plague his unhappy friend, and the day
+turned out to be a particularly busy one for the battalion.  Next
+morning brought the letter.  Macgregor was furious, until
+Conscience asked him what he had to complain about.
+
+Willie, his mischievous self again, got in a nasty one by inquiring
+how much he had paid for the cab the night before last.
+
+'Ye dirty spy!' cried Macgregor.  'What for did ye hook it in the
+pictur' hoose an' leave her wi' me?  She was _your_ affair.'
+
+'I never asked her to spend the evening',' Willie retorted,
+truthfully enough, 'Twa's comp'ny.'
+
+Macgregor felt his face growing hot.  With an effort he said
+coldly: 'If ye had stopped wi' us ye wudna ha'e been back at the
+beer an' broke yer pledge.'
+
+'Wha tell't ye I was at the beer?'
+
+'Yer breath, ye eediot!'
+
+'Ho! so ye was pretendin' ye was sleepin' when I spoke to ye!
+Cooard to smell a man's breath wi' yer eyes shut!'
+
+Macgregor turned wearily away.  'It's nae odds to me what ye
+drink,' he said.
+
+'Ye should think shame to say a thing like that to a chap that
+hasna tasted but wance for near a year--at least, for several
+months,' said Willie, following.  'But I'll forgive ye like a
+Christian. . . .  For peety's sake ten' us a tanner.  I ha'ena had
+a fag since yesterday.  I'll no split on ye.'  He winked and nudged
+Macgregor.  'Maggie's a whale for the cuddlin'--eh?'
+
+It was too much.  Macgregor turned and struck, and Willie went
+down.  Then Macgregor, feeling sick of himself and the whole world,
+assisted the fallen one to his feet, shoved a shilling into his
+hand, and departed hastily.
+
+He wrote a long, pleading letter to Christina and posted it--in the
+cook's fire.  Next day he tried again, avoiding personal matters.
+The result was a long rambling dissertation on musketry and the
+effect of the wind, etcetera, on one's shots, all of which, with
+his best love, he forwarded to Aberdeen.  In previous letters he
+had scarcely ever referred to his training, and then with the
+utmost brevity.
+
+The letter, quite apart from its technicalities, puzzled Christina;
+and to puzzle Christina was to annoy her.  To her mind it seemed to
+have been written for the sake of covering so much paper.  Of
+course she wanted Macgregor to be interested in his work, but not
+to the exclusion of herself.  She allowed the thing to rankle for
+three days.  Then, as there was no further word from him, she
+became a little alarmed.  But it was not in her to write all she
+felt, and so she sought to break the tension with something in the
+way of a joke.
+
+Thus it came about that on the fifth morning, Macgregor received a
+postcard depicting a light-house on a rocky coast and bearing a few
+written words, also an oddly shaped parcel.  The written words
+were:--
+
+'Delighted to hear you are doing so well at the shooting.  Sending
+prize by same post.
+
+This was better!--more like Christina herself.  All was not lost!
+Eagerly he tore off the numerous wrappings and disclosed
+a--cocoa-nut!  In his present state of mind he would have preferred
+an infernal machine.  A cocoa-nut!  She was just laughing at him!
+He was about to conceal the nut when Willie appeared.
+
+'My! ye're the lucky deevil, Macgreegor!  Frae yer uncle, I
+suppose.  I'll help ye to crack it.  I'll toss ye for the milk--if
+there's ony.'
+
+'I'm no gaun to crack it the noo, Wullie,' Macgregor said,
+restraining himself.
+
+'At nicht--eh?'
+
+'I'll see.'
+
+By evening, however, Willie was not thinking of cocoa-nuts or,
+indeed, of anything in the nature of eatables.  His first
+experience in firing a rifle had taken place that afternoon and had
+left him with an aching jaw and a highly swollen face.  On the
+morrow he was not much better.
+
+'I'll no be able to use ma late pass the nicht,' he said bitterly.
+
+'I'm no carin' whether I use mines or no,' Macgregor remarked from
+the depths of his dejection.
+
+Willie gave him a grostesque wink, and observed: 'I believe ye're
+feart to gang into Glesca noo.  Oh, they weemen!'
+
+'If ye hadna a face for pies already, I wud gi'e ye yin!'
+
+'Ah, but ye daurna strike a man that's been wounded in his
+country's service.  Aw, gor, I wisht I had never enlisted!  What
+country's worth a mug like this? . . .  Which girl are ye maist
+feart for, Macgreegor?'
+
+Macgregor fled from the tormentor.  He had not intended to use his
+late pass, but Willie's taunt had altered everything.  Afraid?  He
+would soon show Willie!  Also he would show Maggie!  Likewise he
+would show--Well, Christina had no business to behave as if she
+were the only girl in the world, as if he were a fool.  He had a
+right to enjoy himself, too.  He had suffered enough, and the
+cocoa-nut was the limit! . . .
+
+'Are ye for Glesca?' Willie persisted when Macgregor was giving
+himself a 'tosh up' in the billet.
+
+'Ay, am I!' he snapped at last.
+
+'Hurray for the hero!  Weel, gi'e Maggie yin on the squeaker frae
+me, an' tell her no to greet for me, because I'm no worthy o' her
+pure unselfish love, etceetera.  I doobt the weather's gaun to be
+ower fine for cabs the nicht, but dinna despair; it's gettin' dark
+fairly early noo.  Enjoy yersel' while ye're young.'
+
+'That's enough,' said Macgregor.  'Ye needna think ye're the only
+chap that kens a thing or twa!'  And he left William gaping as
+widely as his painful jaw would permit.
+
+On the way to town he decided to leave the whole affair to chance;
+that is to say, he would not arrive at the warehouse where the fat
+girl was employed until _after_ the usual closing hour of six.  If
+she had gone, no matter; if she was still there, well, he couldn't
+help it.
+
+He arrived at 6.3, and she was there--in her fine feathers, too.
+She could not have expected him, he knew, but evidently she had
+hoped.  He felt flattered and soothed, being unaware that she had
+had another swain in reserve in case he should fail her.
+
+'Fancy meetin' you!' she exclaimed, with a start of surprise.
+'Where's the bad character?'
+
+'Gumbile,' answered Macgregor, who would not for worlds have
+betrayed his friend's lack of skill with the rifle.
+
+'Lang may it bile!'  she remarked unfeeling.  'Wha are ye chasm'
+the nicht, Macgreegor?'
+
+'You!' he replied more boldly than brightly.
+
+'My! ye're gettin' quite forward-like,' she said, with that
+pleasant giggle of hers.
+
+'High time!' said he, recklessly.
+
+After tea they went west and sat in the park.  It was a lovely,
+hazy evening.
+
+'Wud ye rayther be in a pictur' hoose, Maggie?'
+
+'What's a pictur' hoose to be compared wi' this?  If Heaven's like
+this, I'm prepared to dee.'  With three rose-flavoured jujubes in
+her mouth, she sighed and nestled against him.
+
+In silence his arm went round her waist.
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+While waiting for the car back to camp he wrote on a picture
+postcard--'Cocoanut received with thanks.  I wish I was dead,'--and
+dropped it into a pillar box.
+
+About the same hour, in the billet, Willie was disposing of the
+cocoa-nut by raffle, tickets one penny each.
+
+'A queer-like present to get frae yer aunt,' said some one.
+
+'Ay; but she's a queer-like aunt,' said Willie, pocketing the
+useful sum of tenpence.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+'FONDEST LOVE FROM MAGGIE'
+
+Morning brought no letter from Christina, but at breakfast time
+Macgregor received the astounding intimation that he was granted
+three days' leave, the same to commence with the very next hour.
+
+'What's the guid o' leave wi' a jaw like this?' wailed the
+lop-sided William who, with several other members of the billet,
+had been included in the dispensation.
+
+'I'll tell ye what it means, onyway,' said Lance-corporal Jake; 'it
+means that we'll be gettin' a move on afore we're mony days aulder.'
+
+Macgregor did not enter into any of the discussions which followed.
+Having hurriedly made himself as smart as possible, he took car for
+Glasgow, and there caught the ten o'clock train for Aberdeen.  He
+spent the ensuing four hours in wondering--not so much what he
+should say to Christina as what she would say to him.  For himself,
+he was determined to make a clean breast of it; at the same time,
+he was not going to absolve Christina of all responsibility.  He
+had behaved like a fool, he admitted, but he still had a just
+grievance.  Yet it was with no very stout heart that he alighted in
+the big station, where everything was strange except the colour of
+khaki, and found his way to the quiet hotel where his friends had
+rooms.
+
+And there on the steps was Uncle Purdie sunning himself and smoking
+a richly-banded cigar--by order of his spouse.
+
+'Preserve us!' exclaimed Uncle Purdie in sheer astonishment at the
+sight of his nephew.  'Preserve us!' he repeated in quite another
+tone--that of concern.  'But I'm rael glad to see ye, lad,' he went
+on somewhat uneasily, 'an' yer aunt'll be unco pleased.  Come awa'
+in, come awa' in!  Ye've gotten a bit leave, I preshume.  An' ye'll
+be needin' yer denner--eh?  But we'll sune see to that.  'Mphm!
+Ay!  Jist so!  Eh--I suppose ye hadna time to write or wire--but
+what's the odds?  Ye're welcome, Macgreegor, rael welcome.'
+
+'Jist got leave this mornin'--three days,' Macgregor explained, not
+a little relieved to have found his uncle alone to begin with.
+
+'So I catched the first train I could.'
+
+'Jist that, exactly so,' said Mr. Purdie with a heavy sigh that
+seemed irrelevant.  'Weel, ma lad,' he resumed hurriedly, 'if ye
+tak' a sate here, I'll awa' up the stair an' get yer aunt.  She
+generally has a bit snooze aboot this time--efter her meal, ye
+ken--but----'
+
+'Dinna fash her aboot me, Uncle Purdie.'
+
+'Oh, but it--it's necessary to get her doon here.  She'll maybe be
+able to break--I meant for to say----'  Mr. Purdie stopped short
+and wiped perspiration from his face.
+
+'Jist a meenute,' he said abruptly, and bolted upstairs.
+
+Macgregor gazed after the retreating burly figure.  Never before
+had he seen his uncle nervous.  Was Aunt Purdie not so well?  It
+was news to hear of her napping in the middle of the day.  Then a
+likelier explanation dawned on Macgregor, and he smiled to himself.
+Uncle Purdie had been too shy to mention it, and now he had retired
+simply to allow of Christina's coming down by herself.  So
+Macgregor prepared to meet his love.
+
+And while he meditated, his aunt and uncle appeared together.
+
+'Yer aunt'll explain,' said Mr. Purdie, looking most unhappy.  'I
+couldna dae it.'
+
+'How do you do, Macgregor?' said Aunt Purdie, shaking hands with
+stiff kindliness.  'I am delighted to perceive you in Aberdeen.
+But what a deplorable catastrophe!--what a dire calamity!--what an
+ironical mishap!----'
+
+'She means----' began Mr. Purdie, noting his nephew's puzzled
+distress.
+
+'Hush, Robert!  Allow me.  I must break it gently to the boy.  What
+a cruel fiascio!--what a vexatious disappintment!----'
+
+'Whaur's  Christina?' Macgregor demanded.
+
+'Courage, boy!' said Aunt Purdie in lofty tones.  'Remember you are
+a sojer--soldier--of the Queen--or rather, King!'
+
+'But----'
+
+'Christina left for Glasgow per the 1.10 p.m. train, one short hour
+before you arrived.'
+
+'Weel, I'm----'
+
+'She decided very suddenly this morning.  She did not hand me the
+letter, or p.c., for my perusual, but I understood her to observe
+that Miss Tod was not feeling so able and desired her presence.  We
+were real sorry to let her go----'
+
+'Ma impression,' Mr. Purdie put in, 'is that she was wearyin' for
+her lad.  But for ill-luck this is the maist confounded,
+dampest----'
+
+'Robert, behave yourself!'
+
+'Weel, it's a fair sickener.  But there's nae use talkin' aboot it.
+Come awa', lad, an' ha'e something to eat.  Ye canna keep up yer
+heart on a toom kyte.'
+
+They were very kind to him and pressed him to remain overnight, but
+he was bent on leaving by the 3.40 express, which is due at Glasgow
+about 7.30.  With good luck, he told himself, he might catch
+Christina at Miss Tod's.  Meanwhile youth and health compelled him
+to enjoy his dinner, during which Aunt Purdie insisted on refunding
+the cost of his futile journey.
+
+'Ye're ower guid to me,' he said awkwardly.
+
+'Not at all, not at all, Macgregor.  It is quite unmentionable,'
+she returned with a majestic wave.  'Robert, give Macgregor some of
+your choice cigars.'
+
+In the train he smoked one of them, but finding it a trifle heady,
+preserved the rest for presentation to his sergeant, whom he
+greatly admired.
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+At 5.30 Christina was in Glasgow.  Mrs. Purdie had commissioned her
+to deliver two small parcels--'presents from Aberdeen'--to
+Macgregor's sister and little brother, and she decided to fulfil
+the errand before going home.  Perhaps the decision was not
+unconnected with a hope of obtaining some news of Macgregor.  His
+postcard had worried her.  She felt she had gone too far and wanted
+to tell him so.  She would write to him the moment she got home,
+and let her heart speak out for once.  Pride was in abeyance.  She
+was all tenderness.
+
+At the Robinson's house she received a warm welcome.  Mrs. Robinson
+had almost got over her secret fear of her future daughter-in-law.
+Jeannie admired her intensely, and wee Jimsie frankly loved her.
+Aunt Purdie's were not the only gifts she delivered.
+
+'Ye're hame suner nor ye intended,' said Mrs. Robinson, during tea,
+which was partaken of without Mr. Robinson, who was 'extra busy'
+over munitions.  'Was Miss Tod wantin' ye?'
+
+'Macgreegor was wantin' her,' piped Jimsie.  'So was I.'
+
+'Whisht, Jimsie,' Jeannie murmured, blushing more than Christina.
+
+'We jist got hame frae Rothesay last nicht,' said Mrs. Robinson,
+'so we ha'ena seen the laddie for a while.'
+
+'He hasna wrote this week,' remarked Jeannie.  'But of course
+_you'll_ ha'e heard frae him, Christina'--this with respectful
+diffidence.
+
+'He's been busy at the shooting' Christina replied, wishing she had
+more news to give.
+
+'I wisht I had a gun,' observed Jimsie.  'I wud shoot the whuskers
+aff auld Tirpy.  Jings, I wud that!'
+
+'Dinna boast,' said his mother.
+
+'What wud you shoot, Christina, if you had a gun?'
+
+'I think I wud practise on a cocoa-nut, Jimsie,' she said, with a
+small laugh.
+
+After tea Mrs. Robinson took Christina into the parlour while
+Jeannie tidied up.  Presently the door bell rang, and Jimsie rushed
+to meet the postman.
+
+'It's for Macgreegor,' he announced, returning and handing a parcel
+to his mother.
+
+'I wonder wha's sendin' the laddie socks,' she said, feeling it.
+'I best open it an' put his name on them.  Maybe they're frae
+Mistress McOstrich.'  She removed the string and brown paper.
+'Vera nice socks--- a wee thing to the lairge side--but vera nice
+socks, indeed.  But wha----'
+
+'Here's a letter!' cried Jimsie, extracting a half-sheet of white
+paper from the crumpled brown, and giving it to his dear Christina.
+
+In bold, untidy writing she read--
+
+'With fondest love from Maggie.'
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+PITY THE POOR PARENTS!
+
+'It's a peety Macgreegor didna see his intended the nicht,' Mr.
+Robinson observed when his son, after a couple of hours at the
+parental hearth, had gone to bed, 'but we canna help trains bein'
+late.'
+
+Mrs. Robinson felt that it was perhaps just as well the two young
+people had not met that night, but refrained from saying so.  'Hoo
+dae ye think Macgreegor's lookin,' John?' she asked after a pause.
+
+'I didna notice onything wrang wi' him.  He hadna a great deal to
+say for hissel'; but that's naething new.  Queer hoo a noisy,
+steerin' wean like he was, grows into a quiet, douce young man.'
+
+'He's maybe no as douce as ye think,' said Lizzie under her breath.
+
+'What's that?'
+
+'Naething, John.' She sighed heavily.
+
+'What's wrang, wife?'
+
+'I was wishin' we had a niece called Maggie. . . .  I suppose it's
+nae use askin' if ye ever heard o' Macgreegor ha'ein' an
+acquaintance o' that name.'
+
+'Maggie?  Weel, it's no what ye would call a unique name.  But
+what----'
+
+'Listen, John.  When Christina was here the day, a wee paircel cam'
+for Macgreegor, an' when I opened it, there was a pair o' socks
+wi'--wi' fondest love from Maggie.'
+
+'Hurray for Maggie!
+
+'But, John, Christina read the words!'
+
+'Oho!' John guffawed.  'She wudna like that--eh?'
+
+'Man, what are ye laughin' at?  Ye ken Christina's terrible prood.'
+
+'No ony prooder nor Macgreegor is o' her.  Lizzie.'
+
+'That's no what I meant.  Christina wud never put up wi' Macgreegor
+lookin' at anither lass.'
+
+'Weemen was born jealous; but it's guid for them.'
+
+'John Robi'son! ha'e ye the face to tell me ye wud approve o'
+Macgreegor cairryin' on wi' anither lass when he's engaged to
+Christina?'
+
+'Of course I wudna exac'ly approve o' it.'  Mr. Robinson scratched
+his head.  'But surely ye're raisin' an awfu' excitement ower a
+pair o' socks.'
+
+'It wasna the socks, ye stupid: it was the fondest love!'
+
+John laughed again, but less boisterously,
+
+'Maggie's no blate, whaever she is.  Did ye no speir at Macgreegor
+aboot her?'
+
+'Oh, man! ha'e ye nae sense?'  I jist tied up the paircel again an'
+left it on his bed.'
+
+'Weel, that ends it,' John said comfortably.  'But'--with a
+wink--'let it be a lesson to ye never to tamper wi' yer son's
+correspondence.  Ye're pretty sure to find mair nor ye expec'.'
+
+Mrs. Robinson clasped her hands.  'Oh, dear! hoo can ye joke aboot
+it?  What if Christina breaks her engagement.'
+
+'What?' he cried, suddenly alarmed.  'Break her engagement!  Surely
+ye dinna mean that!  Did she say onything?  Did she seem offended?
+Did she----'
+
+'Never a word--but her look was different.  But whatever stupid
+thing the laddie may ha'e done, his heart's set on Christina.  It
+wud break his heart if----'
+
+'This is bad,' said John, all dismayed.  'I didna think it wud be
+that serious.  But I'll tell ye what I'll dae, Lizzie.  I'll gang
+the morn and see Christina an' tell her----'
+
+'What'll ye tell her?'
+
+'Dear knows!  What wud ye say yersel'?'
+
+'Neither you nor me can say onything.  Macgreegor'll ha'e to
+explain--if he can.'
+
+Mr. Robinson groaned, then brightened.  'I yinst had a cousin
+called Maggie,' he said; 'unfortunately she's been deid for fifteen
+year.  Still----'
+
+'It's time ye was in yer bed, John.  Ye canna dae onything, ma man,
+excep' hope for the best.'
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+At dead of night--
+
+'Lizzie!'
+
+Silence.
+
+'_Lizzie_!'
+
+'Eh?--what is 't, John?'
+
+'I was thinkin', wife; I was thinkin' it's no sae bad since her
+name's Maggie.  Ye see, if it had been Henrietta, or Dorothea,
+or----'
+
+'Mercy!  Are ye talkin' in yer sleep?'
+
+'I was gaun for to say that a Henrietta an' so forth wud be easier
+traced nor a Maggie, Maggies bein' as common as wulks at Dunoon,
+whereas----'
+
+'D'ye imagine Christina--oh, dinna be silly, man!'
+
+'But, Maggie--I mean Lizzie----'
+
+'Oh, for ony favour gang to sleep an' rest yer brains.'
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+When Macgregor, alone save for the slumbering Jimsie, had opened
+the parcel he muttered savagely: 'Oh, dash it!  I wish she had kep'
+her rotten socks to hersel'!'--and stuffed the gift behind the
+chest of drawers.  The message he tore into a hundred fragments.
+Then he went to bed and slept better, perhaps, than he deserved.
+He expected there would be a letter in the morning, for Christina
+had left no message with his mother.
+
+But there was no letter, so, after breakfast, he made a trip to the
+camp on the chance, and in the hope, that one might be lying there.
+Another blow!  Managing to dodge Willie, he hurried home to meet
+the second morning delivery.  Nothing again! . . .  His mother's
+anxious questions as to his health irritated him, and he so far
+lost his temper as to ask his sister why she was wearing a face
+like a fiddle.  Poor Jeannie!  For half the night she had been
+weeping for her hero and wishing the most awful things for the
+unknown Maggie.
+
+'Ye'll be back for yer denner, laddie?' his mother called after him
+as he left the house.
+
+'I dinna ken,' he replied over his shoulder.
+
+Mrs. Robinson felt that her worst forebodings were about to be
+realized.
+
+'Never again!' she muttered in the presence of her daughter, who
+was helping her with the housework.
+
+'What, mither?'
+
+'Never again will I open a paircel that's no addressed to me.'
+
+'But it--it might ha'e been a--a fish,' said Jeannie, who would
+have sought to comfort the most sinful penitent in the world. 'Some
+girls,' she went on, 'dinna mean onything special by "fondest
+love." They dinna mean onything mair nor "kind regairds."'
+
+Mrs. Robinson sighed.  'I wud gi'e something if it had been a fish
+wi' kind regairds.  I wonder what he did wi' the socks.'
+
+'I got them at the back o' the chest o' drawers.  Weel, mither,
+that proves he doesna care for her.'
+
+'That's no the p'int, dearie.'  Mrs. Robinson paused in her work.
+'I'm beginnin' to think I should ha'e tell't him aboot the paircel
+bein' open when Christina was here. It's maybe no fair to let him
+gang to her----'
+
+'I'll run efter him,' said Jeannie promptly.  'I'll maybe catch him
+afore he gets to Miss Tod's shop.'
+
+'Ay; run, Jeannie; run as quick's ye can!'
+
+So Jeannie threw off her apron, tidied her hair with a couple of
+touches, and flew as though a life depended on her speed.
+
+And, panting, she came in sight of Miss Tod's shop just in
+time--just in time to see the beloved kilted figure disappear into
+the doorway.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+A SERIOUS REVERSE
+
+The fact that Christina had not written was a paralyzing blow to
+Macgregor's self-confidence and left him altogether uncertain of
+his ground.  For the time being his sense of guilt as well as that
+of injury was almost swamped by the awful dread that she had simply
+grown tired of him.  He entered the shop with foreboding--and
+received another blow.
+
+A smartly dressed young man was lounging at the counter, apparently
+basking in Christina's smiles.  As a matter of fact, the young man
+was merely choosing a notebook, and until the moment of Macgregor's
+entrance had been treated with the slightly haughty politeness
+which Christina made a point of administering to males under fifty.
+But with amazing abruptness she became so charming that the young
+man, a sensitive, susceptible creature, decided that an ordinary
+penny note-book would not do.
+
+'Well,' said Christina sweetly, 'here are some at twopence,
+threepence and sixpence.  The sixpenny ones are extremely reliable.'
+
+After some desultory conversation in low tones, during which
+Macgregor writhed with frequently averted gaze, the young man chose
+a sixpenny one and put down a florin, regretfully remarking that he
+had to catch a confounded train.
+
+With a delicious smile Christina handed him his change, and with a
+graceful salute he fled without counting it.  Immediately the door
+had closed Christina realized that she had given him one and
+ninepence.  A small matter at such a time, yet it may have been the
+last straw.  She had no word for Macgregor as he came to the
+counter, his uncertainty increased by that delicious smile given to
+another.
+
+'Weel, ye've got back,' was all he could utter, and her attitude
+stopped him in the first movement of offering his hand.
+
+'Yesterday afternoon,'  she returned coldly.
+
+'Ay, I ken.  I wish ye had sent me word,' he managed to say after a
+slight pause.
+
+'It did not seem necessary.  I suppose your mother told you.'
+
+'I heard it first frae Aunt Purdie.  I missed ye by less nor an
+'oor.  It was gey hard lines.'
+
+Christina stared.
+
+'I got leave yesterday mornin' an' catched the first train to
+Aberdeen----'
+
+'Oh! . . .  What on earth took you to Aberdeen?'
+
+'Christina,' he exclaimed, 'dinna speak like that!  I gaed to
+Aberdeen because I couldna thole it ony mair.'
+
+'Thole what?'
+
+'Oh, ye ken! . . .  Maybe I had nae business to be vexed at ye for
+gaun wi' Aunt Purdie, but oh, Christina dear, I wisht ye hadna
+gaed.'
+
+He dropped his gaze and continued: 'I'm tellin' ye I gaed to
+Aberdeen because something seemed to ha'e come betwixt us, because
+I----'  He stuck.  Confession in the face of stern virtue is not so
+easy, after all.
+
+'Pity you had the long journey,' she said airily, 'but you ought to
+have stopped for a day or two when you were there.  Aberdeen is a
+delightful city.'  She turned and surveyed the shelves above her.
+
+His look then would have melted the heart of any girl, except this
+one who loved him.
+
+'Christina,' he said piteously, 'it wasna a' ma fau't.'
+
+Leisurely she faced him.
+
+'May I ask what you are referring to?'
+
+'Ye never said ye was sorry to leave me; yer letters wasna like ye,
+an' I didna ken what to think.  An' then the cocoa-nut fairly put
+the lid on.  I tell ye, a chap has to dae _something_ when a girl
+treats him like that.'
+
+'Has he?'
+
+He winced.  'But I forgive ye----'
+
+'Thanks!'
+
+'--because I'm gaun to tell ye a' aboot it, Christina, an' ask ye
+kindly to forgive me.  Ay, I'm gaun to tell ye
+everything--everything!  But I canna think,' he blundered on, 'I'm
+sayin', I canna think hoo I happened to get yer monkey up to begin
+wi'----'
+
+'Excuse me!' she cried, indignant.  'My monkey up, indeed!'
+
+'Weel, maybe it wasna exac'ly yer monkey up; but I want to ken what
+way ye didna write a nicer letter afore ye gaed awa'.  Nae doobt ye
+was in a hurry, but it jist seemed as if ye didna care a button for
+me.  Maybe ma letter to you wasna the thing, either, but I was that
+hurt when I wrote it, an' ye might ha'e understood hoo I was
+feelin'.  Christina, tell me what was wrang that ye gaed awa' like
+yon.  Was ye--was ye fed up wi' me?'
+
+Christina took up a pencil and began to spoil it with a patent
+sharpener.  'Really, it is not worth while discussing,' she said.
+
+'What?  No worth while?  Oh, hoo can ye say a thing like
+that! . . . But maybe I best tell ye ma ain story first.'
+
+'Many thanks.  But I'm afraid I'm not deeply interested in any
+story of yours.' She was almost sorry the next moment.  It was just
+as if she had struck him.
+
+Presently he recovered a little.  'Christina,' he said quietly,
+'that's no true.'
+
+'Hoo daur ye!' she cried, forgetting her 'fine English' as well as
+her haughty pose.
+
+'If it was true, it wud mean that ye've been judgin' me unfair,
+kennin' it was unfair, an' I'll never believe ye wud dae
+that. . . . So, Christina dear, listen to me an' gi'e me a chance.'
+
+'Oh, what's the use,' she sighed with sudden weariness, 'what's the
+use o' pretendin', Macgreegor?'
+
+'Wha's pretendin'?'
+
+'You! What's the use o' pretendin' ye're hurt?  Fine ye ken I'm no
+the--the only girl in the world.'
+
+'There's no anither like ye!'
+
+'Weel,' she said drily, 'that means variety, does it no?'  She drew
+a long breath and moved back from the counter.  'I want to be as
+fair as I can, so perhaps I'd best ask ye a straight question.'
+
+'Ask it!' he said eagerly.
+
+'Wha's Maggie?'
+
+He was taken aback, but less so than she had expected, and possibly
+that increased her bitterness.
+
+'She's a girl,' he began.
+
+'I could ha'e guessed that much.  What sort o' girl?' she demanded,
+and wished she had held her tongue.
+
+'She--she's kin' o' fat----'
+
+'Fat!'  Christina uttered the word with as much disgust as she
+would have evinced had she been handed a pound of streaky bacon
+without the paper.  'How delightful!  Anything else in the way of
+charms?'
+
+'Christina, gi'e me a chance, an' I'll tell ye a' aboot it.'
+
+'Not another word!  How long have you enjoyed the young lady's
+acquaintance?'
+
+'Only a couple o' evenin's, but----'
+
+'Case of love at first sight, I suppose!'
+
+He flared up.  'If ye hadna left me I wud never ha'e met her.  If
+ye had wrote me a dacent letter----'
+
+'Whisht, man!' she said in momentary pity.  'Ye're talkin' like a
+wean.'
+
+'I canna help it.  I'm that fond o' ye.  An' it's no as if I had
+done a black crime.  It was a pure accident----'
+
+'Jist like a penny novel,' she interrupted merciless again.  'Weel,
+I'm sure ye're welcome to ha'e as mony girls as ye like--only,
+ye'll ha'e to leave me oot.  That's a'!'  She took out her purse
+and from it something small which, stepping forward, she laid on
+the counter near him.  Her engagement ring!
+
+After a moment of strained silence--'Christina!' he gasped;
+'Christina! ye canna mean it serious!'
+
+'Good-bye,' she said stiffly, stepping back.
+
+'But--but ye ha'ena heard ma story.  It's no fair----'
+
+'Oh,' she cried harshly, 'dinna keep on at that tune!'
+
+All at once he drew himself up.  'Noo I see what ye mean,' he said
+in an almost even voice.  'Ye had made up yer mind to be quit o'
+me.  Still, it wud ha'e been honester to say ye was fed up to ma
+face.  Weel, I'm no blamin' ye, an' I canna force ye to listen to
+ma story, no that it wud be worth ma while noo to shame masel' wi'
+the tellin'.  I'll no even ask ye hoo ye cam' to hear aboot Maggie.
+Maggie's jist an or'nar' girl, an' I'm jist an or'nar' chap that
+done a stupid thing because he couldna think what else to dae.
+Weel, ye'll sune forget me, an' maybe I'll sune forget you--wi' the
+help o' a bullet----'
+
+'Oh, dinna!' she whispered.
+
+'An' as for this'--he picked up the ring and let it drop on the
+floor--'to hell wi' sich nonsense!'--and ground it under his heel.
+'So long!' he said, and went out quickly.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+THE REAL THING AT LAST
+
+For an appreciable number of seconds after the door had closed
+Christina continued to gaze in its direction, her head well up, her
+face stern and rather pale.  Then, quite suddenly, her bosom gave a
+quick heave, her lips parted, trembling, her eyes blinked, her
+whole attitude became lax.  But she was not going to cry; certainly
+not!  She was far too angry for tears; angry with herself no less
+than Macgregor.  He had actually departed without being dismissed;
+worse still, he had had the last word!  An observer--the thought
+struck her--would have assumed that she, weak wretch, had humbly
+allowed him to go and leave her in the wrong!  Her maiden pride had
+somehow failed her, for she ought to have sent him forth crushed.
+And yet, surely, she had hurt, punished, humiliated him.  Oh, no
+doubt of that!  And for a moment her illogical heart wavered.  She
+drew out her hanky, muttering 'how I hate him!'--and blew her
+pretty nose.  Then she clenched her hands and set her teeth.  Then
+she went lax again.  Then--oh, dear! he had even insulted her by
+leaving her to pick up the cast-off ring!--for, of course, she
+could not leave it there for Miss Tod or a customer to see.
+
+Haughtily she moved round the counter and with scornful finger-tips
+took up the tiny wreckage of a great hope.  The gold was twisted
+and bruised, the little pearls were loose in their places.  All at
+once she felt a horrid pain in her throat. . . .
+
+Miss Tod appeared, fresh from the joys of strong tea.
+
+'Oh, lassie, ha'e ye hurted yersel'?'
+
+Christina choked, recovered herself and cried: 'I've sold a
+blighter a sixpenny notebook for threepence, an' I'll never get
+over it as long as I live.  B--but I hope that'll no be long!'
+
+Just then Heaven sent a customer.
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+And perhaps Heaven sent the telegram that Macgregor found on his
+return home, rather late in the afternoon.  The war has changed
+many things and people, but mothers most of all.  Mrs. Robinson
+made no mention of the 'extra special' dinner prepared so vainly in
+her son's honour.  'Yer fayther missed ye,' was her only reference
+to his absence from the meal.
+
+The telegram was an order to return to duty.  The mother and sister
+saw his eyes change, his shoulders stiffen.
+
+'Maybe something's gaun to happen at last,' he said; and almost in
+the same breath, though in a different voice--'Christina's finished
+wi' me.  It was ma ain fau't.  Ye needna speak aboot it.  I--I'm no
+heedin'--greatly.'  He cleared his throat.  'I'll awa' up to the
+works an' say guid-bye to father.  Jimsie can come, if he likes.
+Ye needna tell him the noo--what I tell't ye.'
+
+Jimsie, summoned from play, was proud to go with his big brother.
+He was ill next day owing to a surfeit of good things consumed at
+high pressure, but not too ill to discuss what he would purchase
+with the half-crown that seemed to have stuck to his hot little paw.
+
+Back from the works, Macgregor found tea awaiting him.  His mother
+and sister were not a little relieved by his cheerfulness, though
+they were to doubt its sincerity later.  But the boy had never made
+a greater effort for the sake of those who loved him than in that
+little piece of dissembling.
+
+The parting was brief.  An embrace, a kiss, a word or two that
+meant little yet all--and he was out of the home.
+
+His laugh, slightly subdued, came up the well of the
+staircase--'Maybe it's anither false alarm!'
+
+'They looked over the rail, mute but trying to smile, and saw the
+last of him--a hurrying sturdy, boyish figure, kilt swinging and
+hand aloft in final farewell.
+
+His route took him through the street of Miss Tod's shop.  It was
+characteristic of Macgregor that he did not choose another and less
+direct course.  He neither hesitated nor looked aside as he marched
+past the shop.  The sense of injustice still upheld him.  'She
+never gi'ed me a chance!' . . .  And so back to Duty.
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+Not more than five minutes later Private William Thomson came along
+in hot haste and banged into the shop.
+
+'Macgreegor no here?' he demanded, and looked astounded.
+
+'No,' answered Christina, without laying down the book she had been
+trying to read.
+
+'Jist left ye?'
+
+'No.'
+
+'When did ye see him?'
+
+'This morning.'
+
+'Gor!  I could ha'e bet onything I wud ha'e catched him here.  He
+had jist left the hoose when I----'
+
+'Why are you so excited?' she coldly inquired.
+
+'Me?  I'm no excited.  Jist been canoodlin' wi' ma aunt.  She
+sprung five bob!  Come oot an' I'll stan' ye a slider.'
+
+'I regret I cannot accept your kind invitation.'
+
+'Haw, haw! It's you for the language!  But I say!'  He leaned over
+the counter.  'What way are ye no greetin'?'
+
+She flushed hotly, wondering how much he knew or guessed, but
+replied coolly enough: 'I have nothing to weep about.  Have you?'
+
+'Plenty, by Jings!  I expected to see yer eyes an' nose rid,
+onyway, Christina.'
+
+'Indeed!  Is that how it affects you?'
+
+He looked hard at her.  'My! ye're a game yin!' he said admiringly.
+'Weel, I maun slope,' he went on, with a sigh that sounded absurd,
+coming from him.  'I suppose ye've nae message for
+Macgreegor--something ye forgot to say at the last meenute?  Eh?'
+
+Christina was at a loss.  Apparently he knew nothing, yet his
+manner was odd.
+
+'No message, thank you,' said she slowly.
+
+'Then I'll bid ye guid-bye--an' I could bet ye a bob ye'll never
+see me again.  So I'll tell ye something.'  His words came with a
+rush.  'Ye're aboot the nicest girl I ever kent, Christina.
+Macgreegor's a luckier deevil nor he deserves.  But I'll look efter
+him for ye in Flanders.  Trust me for that.  Noo that we're really
+boun' for the Front, in a day or so, things is different--at least
+I'm feelin' different.  Dinna laugh!  I--I dinna want to ha'e ony
+enemies but the Germans.  I've jist been an' kissed ma
+aunt--dammit!  An' noo'--he caught her hand, pulled her to
+him--'I'm gaun to kiss _you_!  There!' He turned and bolted.
+
+Christina's hand went to her cheek, and fell back to her side.  Her
+colour ebbed as swiftly as it had flowed.  She began to shake.
+'Bound for the Front, in a day or so.' . . .
+
+Later she went to the sitting-room where her employer was once more
+absorbing comfort from a cup.  'Miss Tod,' she said quietly, 'I
+want to gang hame.'
+
+In the evening she posted a small package with this note enclosed--
+
+
+'I am sending the ring Mrs. McOstrich said I was to give you when
+the time came for you to go.  I hope it will bring you good luck.
+God bless you.
+
+  'CHRISTINA.'
+
+
+She lay awake most of the night, wondering if she might not have
+written more, wondering what answer he would send,
+wondering--wondering. . . .
+
+And as she fell asleep in the grey of morning, hours before the
+package would be delivered at the camp, a long train, at an
+outlying station, started on its way south, and six hundred eager
+lads shouted in the face of all things.
+
+'We're awa' this time, by Goad!' yelled Willie in his friend's ear.
+
+And Macgregor laughed wildly and wrung his friend's hand.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+'HULLO, GLESCA HIELANDERS!'
+
+Like a trodden, forgotten thing Private Macgregor Robinson lay on
+the Flanders mud, under the murk and rain.  A very long time it
+seemed since that short, grim struggle amid the blackness and
+intermittent brightness.  The night was still rent with noise and
+light, but the storm of battle had passed from the place where he
+had fallen.  He could not tell whether his fellows had taken the
+enemy's trench or retired to their own.  He had the vaguest ideas
+as to where he was.  But he knew that there was pain in his left
+shoulder and right foot, that he was athirst, also that he had
+killed a man--a big stout man, old enough to have been his father.
+He tried not to think of the last, though he did not regret it: it
+had been a splendid moment.
+
+He was not the only soldier lying there in the mud, but the others,
+friend or foe, were quite still.  The sight of them in the flashes
+distressed him, yet always his gaze drifted back to them.  His mind
+was a medley of thoughts, from the ugliest to the loveliest.  At
+last, for he was greatly exhausted, his head drooped to his
+uninjured arm, his eyes closed.  For a while he dozed.  Then
+something disturbed him, and he raised himself and peered.  In the
+flicker of a distant flare he saw a shape approaching him, crawling
+on hands and knees, very slowly, pausing for an instant at each
+still figure.  It made Macgregor think of a big dog searching for
+its master--only it wore a helmet.  Macgregor, setting his teeth,
+drew his rifle between his knees and unfixed the bayonet. . . .
+
+'Hist!  Is that you, Macgreegor?'
+
+'Wullie!'
+
+'Whisht, ye----!'
+
+'Oh, Wullie'--in a whisper--'I'm gled to see ye!'
+
+'I believe ye!' gasped Willie, and flattened out at his friend's
+side, breathing heavily.  At the end of a minute or so--'Ha'e ye
+got it bad, Macgreegor?' he inquired.
+
+'So, so.  Arm an' leg.  I'm feelin' rotten, but I'm no finished
+yet.  Ha'e ye ony water?  Ma bottle's shot through.'
+
+'Here ye are. . . .  Feelin' seeck-like?'
+
+'I'm seeck at gettin' knocked oot at the vera beginnin.'
+
+'Never heed.  Did ye kill yer man?'
+
+'Ay.'
+
+'Same here. . . .  In the back. . . .  Ma Goad!'
+
+'Ha'e we ta'en their trench?'
+
+'Ay; but no enough o' us to haud it.
+
+We're back in the auld place.  Better luck next time.  No safe to
+strike a match here; could dae fine wi' a fag.'
+
+There was a silence between them, broken at last by Macgregor.
+
+'Hoo did ye find me, Wullie?  What way are ye no back in the
+trench?'
+
+'Wasna gaun back wi'oot ye--I seen ye drap--even if ye had been a
+corp. . . .  Been snokin' aroun' seekin' ye for Guid kens hoo lang.
+I'm fair hingin' wi' glaur.'
+
+'. . . I'm obleeged to ye, Wullie, but ye shouldna ha'e done it.
+Whauraboots are we?'
+
+'I wisht I was sure.  Lost ma bearin's.  I doobt we're nearer the
+Germans nor oor ain lot.  That's the reason I'm weerin' this
+dish-cover.  But it's your turn to weer it.  Ye've been wounded
+a'ready.'
+
+'Na, na, Wullie!'
+
+'Dae what I tell ye, ye ----!'  Willie made the exchange of
+headgear. . . .  'I say, Macgreegor!'
+
+'What?'
+
+'This is Flanders.  Ye mind oor bet?  Weel, we're quits noo.  I'm
+no owin' ye onything--eh?'
+
+Macgregor grinned in spite of everything.  'Ay, we're quits noo,
+Wullie, sure enough.'
+
+'If ever we get oot o' this, will ye len' us dew francs?'
+
+''Deed, ay. . . .  Wullie, ye're riskin' yer life for me.'
+
+'Awa' an' chase yersel'!  I wonder what that girl o' yours is
+thinkin' aboot the noo--if she's no sleepin'.'
+
+There was a pause till Macgregor said awkwardly:  'Christina's
+finished wi' me.'
+
+'Eh?'
+
+'I couldna tell ye afore; but she had got wind o' Maggie.'
+
+'Maggie!  Oh, hell!  But no frae me, Macgreegor, no frae me!  Ye
+believe that?'
+
+'Oh, ay.'
+
+Willie let off sundry curses.  'But I suppose I'm to blame,' he
+said bitterly.
+
+'Naebody to blame but masel'.'
+
+'But did ye no explain to Christina?  A' ye did was to canoodle wi'
+the wrang girl, pro tem.--a thing that happens daily.  I couldna
+fancy a girl that naebody had ever wanted to cuddle; an' if I was a
+girl I couldna fancy a chap that----'
+
+'Nae use talkin' aboot it, Wullie,' Macgregor said sadly, wearily.
+
+'Aw, but her an' you 'll mak' it up afore ye're done.  If ye dinna,
+I'll want to kill masel' an' Maggie forbye.  A' the same, I wisht
+fat Maggie was here the noo.  I could dae fine wi' a bit squeeze.'
+
+'My! ye're a fair treat!' said Macgregor, chuckling in his misery.
+
+''_Sh_!  Keep still!  Something comin'!'
+
+The distant gun-fire had diminished.  There were appreciable
+silences between the blasts.  But during a flash Macgregor detected
+a helmeted crawling shape.  Willie's hand stole out and grasped the
+bayonet.
+
+'Number twa!' he muttered, with a stealthy movement.  'I maun get
+him!'
+
+But Macgregor's ears caught a faint sound that caused him to grip
+the other's wrist.
+
+'Wait,' he whispered.
+
+The helmeted shape came on, looking neither to right nor left, and
+as it came it sobbed.  And it passed within a few yards of them,
+and into the deeper gloom, sobbing, sobbing.
+
+'Oh, Christ!' sighed Willie, shuddering.
+
+'Put yer arm roun' me, Mac.  I'm feart.'
+
+Five minutes later he affected to jeer at himself.  'Weel, I'm
+rested noo,' he continued, 'an' it's time we was gettin' a move on.
+Mornin's comin', an' if we're spotted here, we're done for.  Can ye
+creep?'
+
+Macgregor tried and let out a little yelp.
+
+'Na, ye canna.  Ye'll jist ha'e to get on ma back.'
+
+'Wullie, gang yersel'----'
+
+'Obey yer corporal!'
+
+'Ye're no a corp----'
+
+'If they dinna mak' me a corporal for this, I'll quit the service!
+Onyway, I'm no gaun wi'oot ye.  Same time, I canna guarantee no to
+tak' ye to the German lines.  But we maun risk that.  Ye'll ha'e to
+leave yer rifle, but keep on the dish-cover till I gi'e ye the
+word. . . .  Noo then!  Nae hurry.  I'll ha'e to creep the first
+part o' the journey.  Are ye ready?  Weel, here's luck to the twa
+o' us!'
+
+There is no authentic description of that horrible journey save
+Willie's, which is unprintable.
+
+It was performed literally by inches.  More than once Willie
+collapsed, groaning, under his burden.  Macgregor, racked as he
+was, shed tears for his friend's sake.  Time had no significance
+except as a measure of suspense and torture.  But Willie held on,
+directed by some instinct, it seemed, over that awful
+shell-fragment-studded mire, round the verges of shell-formed
+craters, past dead and wounded waiting for succour--on, on, till
+the very guns seemed to have grown weary, and the rain ceased, and
+the air grew chillier as with dread of what the dawn should
+disclose, and the blackness was diluted to grey.
+
+'Drap the ---- dish-cover,' croaked Willie, and halted for a
+minute's rest.
+
+Then on again.  But at long last Willie muttered: 'I think it's oor
+trench.  If I'm wrang, fareweel to Argyle Street!  I'll ha'e to
+risk gi'ein' them a hail in case some silly blighter lets fly in
+this rotten licht.  Slip doon, Mac--nae hurry--nae use hurtin'
+yersel' for naething.  I'll maybe ha'e to hurt ye in a
+meenute. . . .  N' for it!' He lifted up his voice.  'Hullo,
+Glesca Hielanders!'
+
+It seemed an age until--
+
+'Right oh!' came a cheerful response.
+
+'Hurray!' yelled Willie, and rose stiffly to his feet.
+
+Then with a final effort, he gave Macgregor the 'fireman's lift,'
+and staggered and stumbled, amid shots from the other side, into
+safety.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+NO HERO, YET HAPPY
+
+Christina was arranging the counter for the day's business when the
+postman brought her a letter in a green envelope with the imprint
+'On Active Service'.  Her heart leapt only to falter as her eyes
+took in the unfamiliar writing.  Then under the 'Certificate' on
+the left-hand side she perceived the signature--'W. Thomson.'
+Something dreadful must have happened!  She sat down and gazed at
+the envelope, fingering it stupidly.  At last she pulled herself
+together and opened it.  The letter was dirty, ill-written, badly
+spelt; but so are many of the finest-spirited letters of these days.
+
+
+'If you are wanting a perfeck man, by yourself a statute from the
+muesum.  Then you can treat him cold and he will not nottice other
+girls when you leav him for to enjoy yourself.  Mac was not for
+haveing anny when he first seen Maggie, but he was vext at you, and
+I eggged him on with telling him he was feared, and he took her in
+a cab becaus it was poring, and maybe he gave her a bit sqeese, I
+do not no for certin, but it is more like she began it, for Maggie
+woud rather take a cuddel nor a good dinner anny day.  Likewize
+there is times when a chap must sqeese something.  It is no dash
+use for a girl to expeck her intended to keep looking at her when
+she is not there, unless she makes it worth his while with nice
+letters and so fourth.  He gets soon fed up on cold nothings.  Mac
+does not care a roten aple for Maggie, but you left him nothing
+better, and she is a nice girl and soft with a man, so God forgive
+you as I will not till I hear you are reddy to kiss him again.  Mac
+is wounded in 2 places, but not mortle.  He got wounded saveing my
+life.  I am not wounded yet.  He garded my back, which saved me.
+Probly you will see him soon, so prepare to behave yourself.
+Remmember you alowed me to kiss you???  Hopping you will take this
+good advice more kindly nor usual.
+
+  Yours resp.
+    W.  THOMSON,
+      Lce. Corp. 9th H.L.I.
+
+P.S.--If you was less proud and more cuddelsom, you woud not loss
+much fun in this world.--W. T., Lce. Corp. 9th H.L.I.
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+Macgregor was in a small hospital not far from London.  While not
+to be described as serious, his wounds were likely to keep him out
+of action for several months to come.  He was comfortable, and the
+people were very kind.  Their English speech puzzled him almost as
+much as his Scotch amused them.
+
+More tired than pained, he lay idly watching the play of light on
+his old-fashioned ring, the gift of Mrs. McOstrich.  It had reached
+him just before he was borne from France, too late, he thought, to
+bring him luck.  But the only luck he wanted now was Christina.  He
+had her brief note by heart.  There was kindness but no comfort in
+the words; forgiveness, maybe, but no promise of reconciliation.
+Truly he had made a horrid mess of it; nevertheless he rebelled
+against taking all the blame.  Christina could not have cared much
+when she would listen to no explanations. . . .  Now he had a great
+longing for the touch of his mother and the smile of his father,
+the soft speech of Jeannie and the eager pipings of wee Jimsie.
+Also, he wondered, with a sort of ache, how Willie was faring.
+
+A nurse appeared, sorted his pillow, chatted for a moment, then
+went and drew down the blinds against the afternoon sun.  And
+presently Macgregor dropped into a doze.
+
+He awoke to what seemed a dream.  Of all people, Aunt Purdie was
+seated at his bedside.
+
+In a hesitating way, quite unlike her, she put out her hand, laid
+it on his and patted gently.
+
+'What's up?' he exclaimed in astonishment.
+
+'How do you do, Macgregor?' she said formally yet timidly.
+
+'Fine, thenk ye,' he answered from sheer force of habit.
+Then--'Ye've come a lang road to see me,' he said, gratitude
+asserting itself.
+
+'It _is_ a conseederable distance,' she returned, with some
+recovery of her old manner.  'Your uncle said I must go the moment
+he heard where you were, and I quite homologated him.  We was all
+copiously relieved to hear of the non-seriosity of your wounds.  I
+have letters for you from your parents and sister, forbye your
+brother James.  Your mother was anxious to come, too, but decided
+to wait for my report, your condeetion not being grave.  All well
+at home and proud of you, but I was en rout before I heard the most
+gratifying news.'  She cleared her throat with an important cough,
+and Macgregor hoped none of the other chaps in the ward were
+listening.  'I am exceedingly proud of you, Macgregor!'
+
+'Me?  What for?'
+
+'Ah, do not distimulate, my boy; do not be too modest.  You have
+saved a comrade's life!  It was magneeficent!'
+
+'Eh?'
+
+'Oh, I know all about it--how you protected your friend William
+with your wounded body----'
+
+Macgregor's hand went to his head.  'I suppose I'm sober,' he
+muttered.  'Wha was stuffin' ye wi' a' this, Aunt Purdie?'
+
+Aunt Purdie's manner was almost sprightly as she whispered--
+
+'Your betrothed!'
+
+'Ma what?'
+
+'Christina, her own self, told me.  So there you are, young man!'
+
+Macgregor's head wagged feebly on the pillow.  'There's a bonny
+mix-up somewhaur,' he said; 'it was Wullie saved ma life.'  Then,
+with an effort--'When did ye see her?'
+
+'Now understand, Macgregor, there must be no excitement.  You must
+keep calm.  I am doing my best to break it gently.  H'm, h'm!  As a
+matter of fac', I seen--saw--your fiancy about ten minutes ago.
+She is without!'
+
+'Wi'oot what?'
+
+'She is in an adjacent apartment.'
+
+'Here?'
+
+'I am going to despatch her to you now,' said Aunt Purdie, enjoying
+herself thoroughly.  'But mind!--no deleterious excitement!'  She
+rose with a look on her gaunt face which he had never seen before.
+
+'Aunt Purdie,' he whispered, 'did she _want_ to come?'
+
+'My dear nephew, without exaggeration I may say that she fairly
+jamp--jumped--at my invitation!  Well, I'll see you subsequently.'
+
+'God bless ye,' he murmured, and closed his eyes till he felt she
+had gone from the ward.
+
+He knew when Christina came in, but did not look directly at her
+till she was beside him.  By that time she had controlled the
+quiver at her mouth.  And when he looked he realized that he had no
+defence whatsoever in the Maggie affair.  Nothing was left him but
+love and regret.
+
+She touched his hand and seated herself.  'I couldna help comin','
+she said, smiling.  'Are ye feelin' better?'
+
+'Oh, ay.  But I maun tell ye the truth.'
+
+'No a word, Mac, noo or ever.  I'll no listen.'
+
+'But it's a' nonsense aboot me savin' a comrade.  Wullie Thomson
+saved me.  I canna think hoo ye heard sic a story, but it's got to
+be stopped.  An' though I'm terrible gled to see yer face again,
+I'm vexed ye cam' a' that lang road thinkin' I was a hero.  Still,
+there's a chap in the next bed that's gaun to get a medal for----'
+
+'We'll talk aboot it later,' she interrupted gently.  'But I'll
+jist tell ye that a' I took the journey for was to see a lad that
+was wounded.  An' I think'--a faint laugh--'I've got a wound o' ma
+ain.'
+
+He sighed, his eyes on his ring.  'Ye had aye a kind heart,
+Christina.  I'm obleeged to ye for comin'. . .  I wud like to tell
+ye something--no as an excuse, for it wud be nae excuse, but jist
+to get quit o' the thing--aboot the time when ye was in
+Aberdeen----'
+
+'Oh, never!'
+
+'Jist that.  Weel, I'll no bother ye,' he said, with hopeless
+resignation.  Next moment he was ashamed of himself.  He must
+change the subject.  He actually smiled.  'Hoo did ye leave Miss
+Tod?  Still drinkin'?'
+
+Christina may not have heard him.  She was surveying the ward.
+Macgregor's only near neighbour was apparently sound asleep, and
+the only patient sitting up was intent on a game of draughts with a
+nurse.  But had all been awake and watching, she would still have
+found a way.
+
+She passed her handkerchief lightly across her eyes and put it in
+her sleeve.  Then with the least possible movement she knelt down
+by the bedside.
+
+'Christina!' he exclaimed under his breath, for her face was near
+to his.
+
+Her fingers went to the neck of her white blouse and drew out a
+narrow black ribbon.  From it hung, shining, the tiny wreckage of
+her engagement ring.
+
+'Mac, dear,' she whispered, 'can--can we no ha'e it mended?'
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wee Macgreegor Enlists, by J. J. Bell
+
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