Part 22 (1/2)

”Now, now!” She shook a playful forefinger at him. ”I was a mother to my husband's regiment, Captain Garrett, I a.s.sure you. Quite. I used to say to all our subalterns, 'Now, remember that this house is open to you at any time.' I felt that they were so far from their own homes. 'Bring your troubles to me,' I would say, 'and let us straighten them out together.'”

”And did they?” Garrett asked.

”They understood me. They knew I wanted to help them. And my husband encouraged them to come.”

”Takes some encouragin', the subaltern of the present day, unless it's to tennis and two-step,” said Colonel West.

”But such dear boys! I felt their mothers would have been so glad.

And our regiment had quite a name for nice subalterns. There is something so delightful about a subaltern--so care-free.”

”By Jove, yes!” said Colonel West. ”Doesn't care for anything on earth--not even the adjutant!”

”Now, Algernon----” But at that moment dinner was announced, and the rest of the sentence was lost--which was an unusual fate for any remark of Mrs. West's.

It was Norah's first experience as hostess at her father's dinner-table--since, in this connexion, Billabong did not seem to count. No one could ever have been nervous at Billabong. Besides, there was no butler there: here, Allenby, gravely irreproachable, with Sarah and Bride as attendant sprites, seemed to intensify the solemnity of everything. However, no one seemed to notice anything unusual, and conversation flowed apace. Colonel West did not want to talk: such cooking as Miss de Lisle's appeared to him to deserve the compliment of silence, and he ate in an abstraction that left Garrett free to talk to Norah; while Mrs. West overwhelmed Mr. Linton with a steady flow of eloquence that began with the soup and lasted until dessert. Then Norah and Mrs. West withdrew leaving the men to smoke.

”My dear, your cook's a poem,” said Mrs. West, as they returned to the drawing-room. ”_Such_ a dinner! That _souffle_--well, words fail me!”

”I'm so glad you liked it,” Norah said.

”It melted in the mouth. And I watched you help it; your face was so anxious--you insinuated the spoon with such an expression--I couldn't describe it----”

Norah burst out laughing.

”I could,” she said. ”The cook was so anxious about that _souffle_, and she said to do it justice it should be helped with a hot spoon.

So I told Allenby to stand the spoon in a jug of boiling water, and give it to me at the very last moment. He was holding it in the napkin he had for drying it, I suppose, and he didn't know that the handle was nearly red-hot. But I did, when I took it up!”

”My dear child!” exclaimed Mrs. West. ”So your expression was due to agony!”

”Something like it,” Norah laughed. ”It was just all I could do to hold it. But the _souffle was_ worth it, wasn't it? I must tell Miss de Lisle.”

”Miss de Lisle? Your cook?”

”Yes--it sounds well, doesn't it?” said Norah. ”She's a dear, too.”

”She is certainly a treasure,” said Mrs. West. ”Since the regiment went out I have been living in horrible boarding-houses, where they half-starve you, and what they do give you to eat is so murdered in the cooking that you can hardly swallow it. Economical for the management, but not very good for the guests. But one must take things as they come, in this horrible war.” She paused, the forced smile fading from her lips. Somehow Norah felt that she was sorry for her: she looked suddenly old, and worn and tired.

”Come and sit in this big chair, Mrs. West,” she said. ”You must have had a long day.”

”Well, quite,” said Mrs. West. ”You see, I went to take my husband from the hospital at twelve o'clock, and then I found that your father had made this delightful arrangement for us. It seemed too good to be true. So I had to send Algernon to his club, and I rushed back to my boarding-house and packed my things: and then I had to do some shopping, and meet them at the station. And of course I never could get a taxi when I wanted one. I really think I am a little tired.

This seems the kind of house where it doesn't matter to admit it.”

”Of course not--isn't it a Home for Tired People?” Norah laughed.

Sarah entered with coffee, and she fussed gently about her guest, settling her cus.h.i.+ons and bringing her cup to her side with cream and sugar.

”It's very delightful to be taken care of,” said Mrs. West, with a sigh. The affected, jerky manner dropped from her, and she became more natural. ”My children are all boys: I often have been sorry that one was not a girl. A daughter must be a great comfort. Have you any sisters, my dear?”

”No. Just one brother--he's in Captain Garrett's regiment.”

”And you will go back to Australia after the war?”