Part 43 (1/2)

”_Isn't_ a small boy!” protested Michael furiously. ”Daddy said I was 'normous.”

”So you are, best-beloved,” laughed Norah, catching him up. ”Now the submarine commander has on clean clothes, and you'd better get ready to go on duty.” Geoffrey dashed back to the bath with a shout of defiance to the airs.h.i.+p, and the destruction of the Ark proceeded gaily.

”There!” said Mrs. Hunt, putting Geoffrey's garments into a tub.

”It's just as well to have them washed, but I really don't think there's any need to worry.”

”I don't think you need, indeed!” said Norah, laughing, as a medley of sound came from the bathroom.

It was an ”off” day for Norah. With Miss de Lisle she had potted and preserved every variety of food that would lend itself to such treatment, and now the working season was almost over. For the first time the Home for Tired People had not many inmates, owing to the fact that leave had been stopped for several men at the Front who had arranged to spend their holiday at Homewood. They had with them an elderly colonel and his wife; Harry Trevor and another Australian; a silent Major who played golf every hour of daylight, and read golf literature during the other part of the day; and a couple of sappers, on final leave after recovering from wounds. To-day the Colonel and his wife had gone up to London; the others, with the exception of Major Mackay, who, as usual, might be seen afar upon the links, had gone with Mr. Linton to a sale where he hoped to secure some unusually desirable pigs; the sappers, happy in ignorance, promised themselves much enjoyment in driving them home. Left alone, therefore, Norah had gone for the day to Mrs. Hunt, ostensibly to improve her French and needlework, but in reality to play with the babies. Just how much the Hunt babies had helped her only Norah herself knew.

”I'm asked to a festivity the day after to-morrow,” Mrs. Hunt said that afternoon. They were having tea in the pleasant sitting-room of the cottage; sounds from the kitchen indicated that Eva was giving her celebrated performance of a grizzly bear for the benefit of the children. The performance always ended with a hunt, and with the slaying of the quarry by Geoffrey, after which the bear expired with lingering and unpleasant details. ”Douglas's Colonel is in London on leave, and he and his wife have asked me to dine and go to a theatre afterwards. It would mean staying in London that night, of course.”

”So of course you'll go?”

”I should love to go,” Mrs. Hunt admitted. ”It would be jolly in itself, and then I should hear something about Douglas; and all he ever tells me about himself might be put on a field postcard. If the babies are quite well, Norah, do you think you would mind taking charge?”

Norah laughed. She had occasionally come to sleep at the cottage during a brief absence on Mrs. Hunt's part, and liked nothing better.

”I should love to come,” she said. ”But you'd better not put it that way, or Eva will be dreadfully injured.”

”I don't--to Eva,” smiled Mrs. Hunt. ”She thinks you come over in case she should need any one to run an errand, and therefore permits herself to adore you. In fact, she told me yesterday, that for a young lady you had an uncommon amount of sense!”

”Jim would have said that was as good as a diploma,” Norah said, laughing.

”I rather think so, myself,” Mrs. Hunt answered. ”What about Wally, Norah? Have you heard lately?”

”Yesterday,” Norah replied. ”He decorated his letter with beautiful people using pen-wipers, so I suppose he is near Ypres. He says he's very fit. But the fighting seems very stiff. I'm not happy about Wally.”

”Do you think he isn't well?”

”I don't think his mind is well,” said Norah. ”He was better here, before he went back, but now that he is out again I believe he just can't bear being without Jim. He can't think of him happily, as we do; he only fights his trouble, and hates himself for being alive. He doesn't say so in words, but when you know Wally as well as Dad and I do, you can tell form his letters. He used to write such cheery, funny letters, and now he deliberately tries to be funny--and it's pretty terrible.”

She paused, and suddenly a little sob came. Mrs. Hunt stroked her hand, saying nothing.

”Do you know,” Norah said presently, ”I think we have lost Wally more than Jim. Jim died, but the real Jim is ever close in our hearts, and we never let him go, and we can talk and laugh about him, just as if he was here. But the real Wally seems to have died altogether, and we've only the sh.e.l.l left. Something in him died when he saw Jim killed. Mrs. Hunt--do you think he'll ever be better?”

”I think he will,” Mrs. Hunt said. ”He is too fine and plucky to be always like this. You have to remember that he is only a boy, and that he had the most terrible shock that could come to him. It must take time to recover.”

”I know,” Norah said. ”I tried to think like that--but it hurts so, that one can't help him. We would do anything to make him feel better.”

”And you will, in time. Remember, you and your father are more to him than any one else in the world. Make him feel you want him; I think nothing else can help him so much.” Mrs. Hunt's eyes were full of tears. ”He was such a merry lad--it breaks one's heart to think of him as he is.”

”He was always the cheerfullest person I ever saw,” said Norah. ”He just laughed through everything. I remember once when he was bitten by a snake, and it was hours before we could get a doctor. We were nearly mad with anxiety, and he was in horrible pain with the tourniquet, but he joked through it all in the most ridiculous way.

And he was always so eager. It's the last thing you could call him now. All the spring has gone out of him.”

”It will come back,” Mrs. Hunt said. ”Only keep on trying--let him see how much he means to you.”

”Well, he's all we have left,” said Norah. There was silence for a moment; and then it was a relief when the children burst into the room.

They all went to the station two days later to see Mrs. Hunt off for her excursion. Michael was not to be depended upon to remain brave when a train actually bore his mother away, so they did not wait to see her go; there were errands to be done in the village, and Norah bundled them all into the governess-cart, giving Geoffrey the reins, to his huge delight. He turned his merry face to his mother.