Chapter 4

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.