Part 42 (2/2)
IV
Early in December he wrote to Mabel:
”A most extraordinary thing has happened. I'm coming home! I shall be with you almost on top of this. It's too astonis.h.i.+ng. I've suddenly been told that I'm one of five men in the battalion who have been selected to go home to an Officer Cadet battalion for a commission. Don't jump to the conclusion that I'm the Pride of the Regiment or anything like that. It's simply due to two things: one that this is not the kind of battalion with many men who would think of taking commissions; the other that both my platoon officer and the captain of my company happen to be Old Tidburians and, as I've told you, have often been rather decent to me. So when this chance came along the rest was easy. I know you'll be glad. You've never liked the idea of my being in the ranks. But it's rather wonderful, isn't it? I hope to be home on the third and I go to the Cadet battalion, at Cambridge, on the fifth.”
Two days later he started, very high of spirit, for England. As he was leaving the village where the battalion was resting--his immediate programme the adventure of ”lorry-jumping” to the railhead--the mail came in and brought him a letter from Mabel. It had crossed his own and a paragraph in it somehow damped the tide of his spirits.
”I was very much annoyed with Miss Bright yesterday. I had been kept rather late at our Red Cross Supply Depot owing to an urgent call for accessories and when I came home I found that Miss Bright had actually taken what I consider the great liberty of ordering up tea without waiting for me. I considered it great presumption on her part and told her so. I find her taking liberties in many ways. It's always the way with that cla.s.s,--once you treat them kindly they turn on you. However, I have, I think, made it quite clear to her that she is not here for the purpose of giving her own orders and being treated like a princess.”
It clouded his excitement. His thought was, ”d.a.m.n it, I hope she isn't bullying Effie.”
He had the luck almost at once to jump a lorry that would lift him a long bit on his road, and the driver felicitated him with envious cheerfulness on being off for ”leaf.” He would have responded with immense heartiness before reading that letter. With Mabel's tart sentences in his mind a certain gloom, a rather vexed gloom, bestrode him. Her words presented her aspect and her att.i.tude and her atmosphere with a reminiscent flavour that took the edge off his eagerness for home. On the road when the lorry had dropped him, on the interminable journey in the train, on the boat, the feeling remained with him.
England--England!--merged into view across the water, and he was astonished, as his heart bounded for joy at Folkestone coming into sight, to realise from what depression of mind it bounded away. He was ashamed of himself and perturbed with himself that he had not more relished the journey: the journey that was the most glorious thing in the dreams of every man in France. He thought, ”Well, what am I coming home to?”
The train went speeding through the English fields,--dear, familiar, English lands, sodden and bare and unspeakably exquisite to him in their December mood. He gazed upon them, flooding all his heart out to them.
He thought, ”Why should there be anything to make me feel depressed? Why should things be the same as they used to be? But dash that letter....
Dash it, I hope she's not been bullying that girl.”
V
He made rather a boisterous entry into the house on his arrival, arriving in the morning before breakfast. He entered the hall just after eight o'clock and announced himself with a loud, ”Hullo, everybody!” and thumped the b.u.t.t of his rifle on the floor. An enormous crash in the kitchen and a shriek of ”It's the master!” heralded the tumultuous discharge upon him of High Jinks and Low Jinks. Effie appeared from the dining room. He was surrounded and enthusiastically shaking hands.
”Hullo, you Jinkses! Isn't this ripping? By Jove, High--and Low--it's famous to see you again. Hullo, Effie! Just fancy you being here! How jolly fine, eh? High Jinks, I want the most enormous breakfast you've ever cooked. Got any kippers? Good girl. That's the stuff to give the troops. Where's the Mistress? Not down yet? I'll go up. Low Jinks--Low Jinks, I'm dashed if you aren't crying! Well, it is jolly nice to see you again, Low. How's the old bike? Look here, Low, I want the most boiling bath--”
He broke off. ”Hullo, Mabel! Hullo! Did you get my letter? I'm coming up.”
Mabel was in a wrapper at the head of the stairs. He ran up. ”I'm simply filthy. Do you mind?” He took her hand.
She said, ”I never dreamt you'd be here at this hour. How are you, Mark?
Yes, I got your letter. But I never expected you till this evening. It's very annoying that nothing is ready for you. Sarah, something is burning in the kitchen. I shouldn't stand there, Rebecca, with so much to be done; and I think you've forgotten your cap. Miss Bright,--oh, she's gone.”
Just the same Mabel! But he wasn't going to let her be the same! He had made up his mind to that as he had come along with eager strides from the station. She turned to him and they exchanged their greetings and he went on, pursuing his resolution, ”Look here, I've got a tremendous idea. When I get through this cadet business I shall have quite a bit of leave _and_ my Sam Browne belt. I thought we'd go up to town and stick up at an hotel--the Savoy or somewhere--and have no end of a bust.
Theatres and all the rest of it. Shall we?”
That chilly, vexed manner of hers, caused as he well knew by the uproar of his arrival, disappeared. ”Oh, I'd love to. Yes, do let's. Now you want a bath, don't you? I'm annoyed there was all that disturbance just when I was meeting you. I've been having a little trouble lately--”
”Oh, well, never mind that now, Mabel. Come and watch me struggle out of this pack. Yes, look here, as soon as ever I know for certain when the course ends we'll write for rooms at the Savoy. I hear you have to do it weeks ahead. We'll spend pots of money and have no end of a time.”
She reflected his good spirits. Ripping! He splashed and wallowed in the bath, singing l.u.s.tily one of the songs out there:
”Ho, ho, ho, it's a lovely war!”
VI
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