Part 17 (2/2)
Major Phillips had Miss Ashwell's hand in his and was clearly paying no attention to Uncle Tom. The line was divided afterwards as to whether he shook her hand eagerly or just held it. The majority favoured the latter opinion, but all agreed that he looked right into her eyes and that his voice was ”as different as anything from what it was before.”
Somehow or other they started on their homeward way with Miss Ashwell and Major Phillips bringing up the rear, for Williams the janitor had magically appeared with the latter's stick, and Uncle Tom thoughtfully made his adieus and departed.
If Major David Phillips hadn't been too ecstatically happy to notice anything except the curve of Miss Ashwell's pink cheek and the length of her eyelashes and a soft little curl which hung in front of her ear, he might have been surprised at the extreme quiet of the forty girls in front of him; they might have been walking to a funeral. What he wouldn't have guessed was that every ear in the line was stretched backwards to catch his slightest word or he might have lowered his voice. As it was at least half the line could hear him:
Yes, he was glad to be back in Canada.
Yes, two months ago.
He'd been delayed in England over the Serbian work.
No, he wasn't in town. He had a cottage, really a little old farmhouse, about ten miles out of the city. His Aunt Joan had died while he was away and had left him ”White Cottage.” He was living there with his batman, who was awfully handy and did the cooking and everything, and between them they had turned the parlour and the spare bedroom into a studio. They had made a great northern window and Jennings was now building a piazza. Elizabeth must come and see it. However, she would have to come soon, as he was going to France in June.
”Elizabeth,” said the line to itself, ”and she didn't call him David?”
They felt they wouldn't have been so behind-hand.
Judith meanwhile, being partnerless, had wormed her way down to the prefects who were leading the line.
”Cathy,” she whispered urgently, ”do go slow, please; he's limping, you know, and don't stop when we get to the cars. Please, please, just walk on slowly, and perhaps Miss Ashwell won't notice. I'll tell you why later. It's awfully important.”
”Right you are, Mr. First Mate,” answered Catherine, and Judith, not without some whispered chaffing, got back within earshot.
Major Phillips was talking about his experiences in the Russian prison and Judy needn't have worried lest Miss Ashwell should notice when they reached the cars; Miss Ashwell was in another world entirely; the line did not exist for her. They walked on and on and Major Phillips's voice became lower. The line began to feel rebellious.
”Fourteen blocks,” said Frances Purdy to her neighbour. ”I'm nearly dead. I shouldn't wonder if we had to walk all the way.”
And they did. Miss Ashwell didn't ”notice” till they began the ascent of the hill and Major Phillips was obliged to go very slowly, indeed. Miss Ashwell was full of remorse. His leg must be hurting, but the school was in sight. He must come in and rest. He had walked too far, and lines of pain and fatigue were plain to be seen. Miss Ashwell decided that she must take him to the common room, and then get Mrs. Bronson to make him some hot tea. But probably he couldn't walk so far! Perhaps he would faint. Whatever should she do? Suddenly to her great relief she saw Miss Meredith in her car evidently returning from town. Miss Ashwell moved over to the side of the road, Major Phillips limping after her, and the line stood still awaiting developments. Miss Ashwell explained her predicament to an amazed Head Mistress. Miss Meredith thought and acted quickly. Major Phillips was welcomed with both hands and tucked into the car. Catherine was summoned.
”My compliments to Mrs. Bronson, Catherine, and please ask her if she can provide you all with hot cocoa and cake after your walk. Miss Ashwell is coming home with me for tea.”
The car drove off, and though the line moved on decorously towards the much-desired rest and cocoa, Major Phillips would have been considerably surprised if he could have heard its sudden galvanization into speech.
Catherine, who took Miss Ashwell's place at the end of the line, was obliged to send a runner ahead with the request,
”Less noise till we reach bounds, please.”
But the instant they reached the school gates the line dissolved and Judith was surrounded by an excited mob.
”Oh, go on, tell us, Judy.”
”Whatever were you doing on the platform?”
”Who is he, anyway?”
”Don't be a piker! Tell us, Judy.”
”Fancy Miss Meredith whisking him off like that.”
”Is he really Miss Ashwell's?”
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