The battalion was not an hour returned
from the longest, hottest, dustiest and most exhausting
route march yet experienced. Macgregor was stretched
on his bed, a newspaper over his face, when an orderly
shook him and shoved a visiting card into his hand.
‘She’s waitin’ ootside,’
he said and, with a laugh, departed.
Macgregor rubbed his eyes and read:
MRS. ROBERT PURDIE.
13, King’s Mansions, W
3rd Wednesday.
‘Oh, criffens!’ he groaned.
‘Ma aunt!’ And proceeded with more haste
than alacrity to tidy himself, while wondering what
on earth she had come for.
Willie, scenting profit in a rich
relation, though not his own, proffered his company,
which was rather curtly refused. Nevertheless,
he followed his friend.
Macgregor joined his aunt in the blazing
sunshine. Her greeting was kindly if patronizing.
‘Sorry to keep ye waitin’,
Aunt Purdie,’ he said respectfully. ’If
I had kent ye was comin’ ’
’I understood a good soldier
was always prepared for any emergency ’
‘Excep’ when he’s
aff duty, mistress.’ This from Willie, who
had taken up his position a little way behind Macgregor,
an ingratiating grin on his countenance.
Aunt Purdie drew up her tall, gaunt,
richly-clad figure and examined Private Thomson through
eye-glasses on a long tortoise-shell handle.
‘Macgregor, who is this gentleman?’
‘It’s jist Wullie Thomson,’
said Macgregor, annoyed but reluctant to hurt his
friend’s feelings. ‘D’ye no
mind him?’
’I have a very exclusive memory
for faces. . . Dear me, he is going away!’
It was so. Either the glasses,
or being called a gentleman, or both, had been too
much even for Willie.
‘Is the colonel in the vicinity?’
Aunt Purdie demanded, recalling Macgregor’s
wondering gaze from the retreating figure.
‘I couldna say. He’s liker to be
in a cauld bath.’
‘You have, of course, informed him who your
uncle is?’
‘Me an’ the colonel ha’ena
done much hob-nobbin’ as yet,’ Macgregor
said, smiling.
’His mother used to obtain her
groceries from your uncle. If you could have
presented the colonel to me well, never
mind. I presume the major is on the quee
vive.’
‘He’ll be ha’ein’ a wash an’
brush up, I wud say.’
’But why are you not being drilled
or digging up trenches or firing guns ’
‘We’re a’ deid men
this efternune. Had a big rout mairch the day.’
‘Oh, indeed! Well, when does the band
play?’
‘The baun’s burstit wi’
the rout mairch. It couldna blaw the ash aff
a ceegarette. I’m rael sorry ’
’I would like to inspect the
apartments you live in. Pray conduct me ’
‘Some o’ the chaps is
cleanin’ theirsel’s. If ye like,
I’ll tell them to hurry up or get ablow the
blankets.’
‘Certainly not!’ said
Mrs. Purdie with decision. ’Is there no
tea-room adjacent?’
‘Jist the canteen. I
doobt I couldna I tak’ ye inside, but I could
fetch ye oot a drink something T.T., I suppose?’
She waved the offer away. Is there nothing to be perceived or observed
in this camp? she inquired with some impatience.
Her nephew scratched his head.
‘Weel,’ he said at last, ’there’s
the view frae this end, an’ there’s the
view frae the ither end. I’m sorry ye’ve
come when there’s naething daein’.’
’So am I. However, it is not
the time to indulge in discriminations. Your
uncle thought it was better for me to come than to
write a letter.’
‘Is onything wrang wi’
ma uncle?’ Macgregor asked anxiously.
’Barring an invidious bunion,
he is in his usual health. But we are going
to Aberdeen to-morrow, for a fortnight, and we have
invited your intended to come with us. She ’
‘Christina! But she canna
gang awa’ to Aberdeen when ’
He stopped short, at a loss. He had an appointment
with Christina for the following evening. Surely
’I arranged with Miss Tod this
morning. Christina will be writing to you, I
presume.’
‘She she’s gaun wi’ ye?’
‘Certainly D.V., of course.’
‘For a a fortnicht?’
’The change will be good for
her. You must not be selfish. Your uncle
was afraid you might be put out: that is why I
came to explain. But apart from the beneficial
change, Christina, as I observed to your uncle, ought
to see the world while she is young.’
Macgregor answered nothing.
Possibly he did not catch her latter remarks.
Christina going away for a fortnight, and he might
be ordered abroad at any moment!
‘Come,’ said his aunt,
kindly enough, ‘don’t be huffy.’
Mercifully, just then an officer passed.
In the action of saluting Macgregor regained self-control.
‘I hope ye get guid weather
at Aberdeen,’ he managed to say, and his aunt
admired him even more than at the hour of his enlistment.
‘Yer uncle an’ me jist
wishes ye was free to jine us,’ she said with
unwonted warmth and homeliness of accent. Her
hand went to the fastening of her purse, and hesitated.
No! Something told her this was not the moment
for a gift, however splendid.
‘Well, I must be going,’
she remarked, stiffening again. ’Kindly
conduct me to the exit. I thought there would
have been more to inspire the mind in this place.
. . . Good-bye. We will take good care
of Christina.’
Never in his life had Macgregor been
so deeply hurt and angered not even in
the old days by Aunt Purdie, who was not now the object
of his resentment.
Willie, who always tried to make the
best of things, insults not excepted, approached presently
with a hopeful appeal for a loan.
‘Gang to blazes!’ was the response.
Willie could scarce believe his ears.
’Macgreegor! did she no cough up onything?’
Macgregor walked on.
‘An’ she fancies hersel’
for a swell!’ exclaimed
Willie viciously.
‘Anither word an’ I’ll knock the
face aff ye!’
It was Willie’s turn to feel resentment.
In the evening came a note from Christina,
hurriedly written. She was terribly busy getting
ready for the morning train. It was most kind
of Mrs. Purdie. Her own uncle must have let drop
to Mr. Purdie that a summer outing this year was not
possible, and Mr. Purdie must have told Mrs. Purdie.
. . . Of course, she, Christina, would never
have dreamed of going away otherwise. But the
time would soon pass, Mac, and she intended to enjoy
it thoroughly. . . .
If only she had left out that last
sentence! But what true lover has not been stabbed
by something very like it in his time?