Part 42 (2/2)
He put his head on one side, in a comical seriousness. ”I've been thinking--since I talked to you, Miss Wilson--that my senior cla.s.s could stand a little.” Another hoot! ”Oh, good-bye!” he exclaimed, in an extraordinary fl.u.s.ter, as he picked up the things he had dropped, and made a bolt for the stairs. Winnie watched him running down the steps that led through the garden to the landing-stage.
”I think the senior cla.s.s can stand a little, don't you, General?”
”You're over-young to be in it, my dear.”
She turned to him. ”I'm not unhappy, and I don't reckon myself unfortunate, because I think that, to some extent at least, I can learn.
The only really unhappy people are people who can't learn at all, I think. Fancy going through it all and learning absolutely nothing!”
A longer, more insistent hoot! Bertie Merriam sauntered on to the balcony. No observer would have guessed that the hoot meant anything to him or that he had any farewell to make. The General held out his hand to Winnie. ”I'll take the steps gently--Bertie can overtake me. _Au revoir_, Miss Winnie, in London!”
Bertie Merriam came to her. ”You slept well?” he asked.
”Oh yes. Why not? I was so at peace. Say nothing this morning. We said good-bye last night.”
”Yes, I know, but----” He was obviously embarra.s.sed. ”But I want to ask you one thing. It'll seem jolly absurd, I know, and rather conceited.”
”Will it?” asked Winnie, with bright eyes glistening.
”Well, if there should be any little row in India--I know people at home don't take much notice of them--any little expedition or anything of that kind, could you keep your eye on it? Because we might have the luck to be in it, and I should like you to know how the regiment shows up.”
”If you've the luck to be getting killed, I'll read about it,” said Winnie. She smiled with trembling lips. ”It's really the least I can do for a friend, Major Merriam.”
”Killed? Oh, rot! Just see first how near to full strength we turn out--that's my great test--and then, if you read of any other fellows showing us the way, you might let me know, and I'll inquire about it--because we don't reckon to let it happen very often. Hullo, that whistle really sounds as if she meant business!” He gripped her hand tightly and looked into her eyes. ”Here's the end, Winnie!”
”I wouldn't have had it not happen; would you?”
”I shall often wonder if I did right.”
She smiled. ”You needn't. What you did would have made no difference--only you'd have been a little less loyal to your duty.”
”I wish I knew what was going to become of you.”
”I'm not afraid any more. G.o.d bless you, dear.”
He waited one moment longer. ”You've no grudge against me?”
Winnie turned sharply away, and leant over the balcony. ”Oh, please, please!” she stammered.
When she saw him again, he was half-way down to the landing-stage. He turned, waved his hand, and so pa.s.sed out of sight--and out of life for Winnie Maxon.
CHAPTER XXV
”PERHAPS!”
”Good gracious!” exclaimed Mrs. Ladd, laying down her knife and fork.
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