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diff --git a/27786.txt b/27786.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f17b454 --- /dev/null +++ b/27786.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12408 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Rough Road, by William John Locke + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Rough Road + + +Author: William John Locke + + + +Release Date: January 12, 2009 [eBook #27786] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROUGH ROAD*** + + +E-text prepared by David Clarke, Barbara Tozier, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreading Team http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +THE ROUGH ROAD + +by + +WILLIAM J. LOCKE + + + + + + + +First Edition ... September 1918 + +John Lane +The Bodley Head Ltd + + + + +TO +SHEILA + +THIS LITTLE TALE OF +THE GREAT WAR +AS A MEMORY FOR AFTER YEARS + + + + +THE ROUGH ROAD + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +This is the story of Doggie Trevor. It tells of his doings and of a +girl in England and a girl in France. Chiefly it is concerned with the +influences that enabled him to win through the war. Doggie Trevor did +not get the Victoria Cross. He got no cross or distinction whatever. +He did not even attain the sorrowful glory of a little white cross +above his grave on the Western Front. Doggie was no hero of romance, +ancient or modern. But he went through with it and is alive to tell +the tale. + +The brutal of his acquaintance gave him the name of "Doggie" years +before the war was ever thought of, because he had been brought up +from babyhood like a toy Pom. The almost freak offspring of elderly +parents, he had the rough world against him from birth. His father +died before he had cut a tooth. His mother was old enough to be his +grandmother. She had the intense maternal instinct and the brain, such +as it is, of an earwig. She wrapped Doggie--his real name was James +Marmaduke--in cotton-wool, and kept him so until he was almost a grown +man. Doggie had never a chance. She brought him up like a toy Pom +until he was twenty-one--and then she died. Doggie being comfortably +off, continued the maternal tradition and kept on bringing himself up +like a toy Pom. He did not know what else to do. Then, when he was +five-and-twenty, he found himself at the edge of the world gazing in +timorous starkness down into the abyss of the Great War. Something +kicked him over the brink and sent him sprawling into the thick of it. + + * * * * * + +That the world knows little of its greatest men is a commonplace among +silly aphorisms. With far more justice it may be stated that of its +least men the world knows nothing and cares less. Yet the Doggies of +the War, who on the cry of "Havoc!" have been let loose, much to their +own and everybody else's stupefaction, deserve the passing tribute +sometimes, poor fellows, of a sigh, sometimes of a smile, often of a +cheer. Very few of them--very few, at any rate, of the English +Doggies--have tucked their little tails between their legs and run +away. Once a brawny humorist wrote to Doggie Trevor "_Sursum cauda._" +Doggie happened to be at the time in a water-logged front trench in +Flanders and the writer basking in the mild sunshine of Simla with his +Territorial regiment. Doggie, bidden by the Hedonist of circumstance +to up with his tail, felt like a scorpion. + +Such feelings, however, will be more adequately dealt with hereafter. +For the moment, it is only essential to obtain a general view of the +type to which Trevor belonged. + + * * * * * + +If there is one spot in England where the present is the past, where +the future is still more of the past, where the past wraps you and +enfolds you in the dreamy mist of Gothic beauty, where the lazy +meadows sloping riverward deny the passage of the centuries, where the +very clouds are secular, it is the cathedral town of Durdlebury. No +factory chimneys defile with their smoke its calm air, or defy its +august and heaven-searching spires. No rabble of factory hands shocks +its few and sedate streets. Divine Providence, according to the +devout, and the crass stupidity of the local authorities seventy years +ago, according to progressive minds, turned the main line of railway +twenty miles from the sacred spot. So that to this year of grace it is +the very devil of a business to find out, from Bradshaw, how to get to +Durdlebury, and, having found, to get there. As for getting away, God +help you! But whoever wanted to get away from Durdlebury, except the +Bishop? In pre-motor days he used to grumble tremendously and threaten +the House of Lords with Railway Bills and try to blackmail the +Government with dark hints of resignation, and so he lived and +threatened and made his wearisome diocesan round of visits and died. +But now he has his episcopal motor-car, which has deprived him of his +grievances. + +In the Close of Durdlebury, greenswarded, silent, sentinelled by +immemorial elms that guard the dignified Gothic dwellings of the +cathedral dignitaries, was James Marmaduke Trevor born. His father, a +man of private fortune, was Canon of Durdlebury. For many years he +lived in the most commodious canonical house in the Close with his +sisters Sophia and Sarah. In the course of time a new Dean, Dr. +Conover, was appointed to Durdlebury, and, restless innovator that he +was, underpinned the North Transept and split up Canon Trevor's home +by marrying Sophia. Then Sarah, bitten by the madness, committed +abrupt matrimony with the Rev. Vernon Manningtree, Rector of +Durdlebury. Canon Trevor, many years older than his sisters, remained +for some months in bewildered loneliness, until one day he found +himself standing in front of the cathedral altar with Miss Mathilda +Jessup, while the Bishop pronounced over them words diabolically +strange yet ecclesiastically familiar. Miss Jessup, thus transformed +into Mrs. Trevor, was a mature and comfortable maiden lady of ample +means, the only and orphan daughter of a late Bishop of Durdlebury. +Never had there been such a marrying and giving in marriage in the +cathedral circle. Children were born in Decanal, Rectorial and +Canonical homes. First a son to the Manningtrees, whom they named +Oliver. Then a daughter to the Conovers. Then a son, named James +Marmaduke, after the late Bishop Jessup, was born to the Trevors. The +profane say that Canon Trevor, a profound patristic theologian and an +enthusiastic palaeontologist, couldn't make head or tail of it all, +and, unable to decide whether James Marmaduke should be attributed to +Tertullian or the Neolithic period, expired in an agony of dubiety. At +any rate, the poor man died. The widow, of necessity, moved from the +Close, in order to make way for the new Canon, and betook herself with +her babe to Denby Hall, the comfortable house on the outskirts of the +town in which she had dwelt before her marriage. + +The saturated essence of Durdlebury ran in Marmaduke's blood: an +honourable essence, a proud essence; an essence of all that is +statically beautiful and dignified in English life; but an essence +which, without admixture of wilder and more fluid elements, is apt to +run thick and clog the arteries. Marmaduke was coddled from his birth. +The Dean, then a breezy, energetic man, protested. Sarah Manningtree +protested. But when the Dean's eldest born died of diphtheria, Mrs. +Trevor, in her heart, set down the death as a judgment on Sophia for +criminal carelessness; and when young Oliver Manningtree grew up to be +an intolerable young Turk and savage, she looked on Marmaduke and, +thanking heaven that he was not as other boys were, enfolded him more +than ever beneath her motherly wing. When Oliver went to school in the +town and tore his clothes, and rolled in mud and punched other boys' +heads, Marmaduke remained at home under the educational charge of a +governess. Oliver, lean and lanky and swift-eyed, swaggered through +the streets unattended from the first day they sent him to a +neighbouring kindergarten. As the months and years of his childish +life passed, he grew more and more independent and vagabond. He swore +blood brotherhood with a butcher-boy and, unknown to his pious +parents, became the leader of a ferocious gang of pirates. Marmaduke, +on the other hand, was never allowed to cross the road without +feminine escort. Oliver had the profoundest contempt for Marmaduke. +Being two years older, he kicked him whenever he had a chance. +Marmaduke loathed him. Marmaduke shrank into Miss Gunter, the +governess's, skirts whenever he saw him. Mrs. Trevor therefore +regarded Oliver as the youthful incarnation of Beelzebub, and +quarrelled bitterly with her sister-in-law. + +One day, Oliver, with three or four of his piratical friends, met +Marmaduke and Miss Gunter and a little toy terrier in the High Street. +The toy terrier was attached by a lead to Miss Gunter on the one side, +Marmaduke by a hand on the other. Oliver straddled rudely across the +path. + +"Hallo! Look at thet two little doggies!" he cried. He snapped his +fingers at the terrier. "Come along, Tiny!" The terrier yapped. Oliver +grinned and turned to Marmaduke. "Come along, Fido, dear little +doggie." + +"You're a nasty, rude, horrid boy, and I shall tell your mother," +declared Miss Gunter indignantly. + +But Oliver and his pirates laughed with the truculence befitting their +vocation, and bowing with ironical politeness, let their victim depart +to the parody of a popular song: "Good-bye, Doggie, we shall miss +you." + +From that day onwards Marmaduke was known as "Doggie" throughout all +Durdlebury, save to his mother and Miss Gunter. The Dean himself grew +to think of him as "Doggie." People to this day call him Doggie, +without any notion of the origin of the name. + +To preserve him from persecution, Mrs. Trevor jealously guarded him +from association with other boys. He neither learned nor played any +boyish games. In defiance of the doctor, whom she regarded as a member +of the brutal anti-Marmaduke League, Mrs. Trevor proclaimed +Marmaduke's delicacy of constitution. He must not go out into the +rain, lest he should get damp, nor into the hot sunshine, lest he +should perspire. She kept him like a precious plant in a carefully +warmed conservatory. Doggie, used to it from birth, looked on it as +his natural environment. Under feminine guidance and tuition he +embroidered and painted screens and played the piano and the mandolin, +and read Miss Charlotte Yonge and learned history from the late Mrs. +Markham. Without doubt his life was a happy one. All that he asked for +was sequestration from Oliver and his associates. + +Now and then the cousins were forced to meet--at occasional children's +parties, for instance. A little daughter, Peggy, had been born in the +Deanery, replacing the lost firstborn, and festivals--to which came +the extreme youth of Durdlebury--were given in her honour. She liked +Marmaduke, who was five years her senior, because he was gentle and +clean and wore such beautiful clothes and brushed his hair so nicely; +whereas she detested Oliver, who, even at an afternoon party, looked +as if he had just come out of a rabbit-hole. Besides, Marmaduke danced +beautifully; Oliver couldn't and wouldn't, disdaining such effeminate +sports. His great joy was to put out a sly leg and send Doggie and his +partner sprawling. Once the Dean caught him at it, and called him a +horrid little beast, and threatened him with neck and crop expulsion +if he ever did it again. Doggie, who had picked himself up and +listened to the rebuke, said: + +"I'm very glad to hear you talk to him like that, Uncle. I think his +behaviour is perfectly detestable." + +The Dean's lips twitched and he turned away abruptly. Oliver glared at +Doggie. + +"Oh, my holy aunt!" he whispered hoarsely. "Just you wait till I get +you alone!" + +Oliver got him alone, an hour later, in a passage, having lain in +ambush for him, and after a few busy moments, contemplated a bruised +and bleeding Doggie blubbering in a corner. + +"Do you think my behaviour is detestable now?" + +"Yes," whimpered Doggie. + +"I've a good mind to go on licking you until you say 'no,'" said +Oliver. + +"You're a great big bully," said Doggie. + +Oliver reflected. He did not like to be called a bully. "Look here," +said he, "I'll stick my right arm down inside the back of my trousers +and fight you with my left." + +"I don't want to fight. I can't fight," cried Doggie. + +Oliver put his hands in his pockets. + +"Will you come and play Kiss-in-the-Ring, then?" he asked +sarcastically. + +"No," replied Doggie. + +"Well, don't say I haven't made you generous offers," said Oliver, and +stalked away. + +It was all very well for the Rev. Vernon Manningtree, when discussing +this incident with the Dean, to dismiss Doggie with a contemptuous +shrug and call him a little worm without any spirit. The unfortunate +Doggie remained a human soul with a human destiny before him. As to +his lack of spirit---- + +"Where," said the Dean, a man of wider sympathies, "do you suppose he +could get any from? Look at his parentage. Look at his upbringing by +that idiot woman." + +"If he belonged to me, I'd drown him," said the Rector. + +"If I had my way with Oliver," said the Dean, "I'd skin him alive." + +"I'm afraid he's a young devil," said the Rector, not without paternal +pride. "But he has the makings of a man." + +"So has Marmaduke," replied the Dean. + +"Bosh!" said Mr. Manningtree. + + * * * * * + +When Oliver went to Rugby, happier days than ever dawned for +Marmaduke. There were only the holidays to fear. But as time went on, +the haughty contempt of Oliver, the public-school boy, for the +home-bred Doggie, forbade him to notice the little creature's +existence; so that even the holidays lost their gloomy menace and +became like the normal halcyontide. Meanwhile Doggie grew up. When he +reached the age of fourteen, the Dean, by strenuous endeavour, rescued +him from the unavailing tuition of Miss Gunter. But school for +Marmaduke Mrs. Trevor would not hear of. It was brutal of Edward--the +Dean--to suggest such a thing. Marmaduke--so sensitive and +delicate--school would kill him. It would undo all the results of her +unceasing care. It would make him coarse and vulgar, like other horrid +boys. She would sooner see him dead at her feet than at a public +school. It was true that he ought to have the education of a +gentleman. She did not need Edward to point out her duty. She would +engage a private tutor. + +"All right. I'll get you one," said the Dean. + +The Master of his old college at Cambridge sent him an excellent +youth, who had just taken his degree--a second class in the Classical +Tripos--an all-round athlete and a gentleman. The first thing he did +was to take Marmaduke on the lazy river that flowed through the +Durdlebury meadows, thereby endangering his life, woefully blistering +his hands, and making him ache all over his poor little body. After a +quarter of an hour's interview with Mrs. Trevor, the indignant young +man threw up his post and departed. + +Mrs. Trevor determined to select a tutor herself. A scholastic agency +sent her a dozen candidates. She went to London and interviewed them +all. A woman, even of the most limited intelligence, invariably knows +what she wants, and invariably gets it. Mrs. Trevor got Phineas +McPhail, M.A. Glasgow, B.A. Cambridge (Third Class Mathematical +Greats), reading for Holy Orders. + +"I was training for the ministry in the Free Kirk of Scotland," said +he, "when I gradually became aware of the error of my ways, and saw +that there could only be salvation in the episcopal form of Church +government. As the daughter of a bishop, Mrs. Trevor, you will +appreciate my conscientious position. An open scholarship and the +remainder of my little patrimony enabled me to get my Oxford degree. +You would have no objection to my continuing my theological studies +while I undertake the education of your son?" + +Phineas McPhail pleased Mrs. Trevor. He had what she called a rugged, +honest Scotch face, with a very big nose in the middle of it, and +little grey eyes overhung by brown and shaggy eyebrows. He spoke with +the mere captivating suggestion of an accent. The son of decayed, +proud, and now extinct gentlefolk, he presented personal testimonials +of an unexceptionable quality. + +Phineas McPhail took to Doggie and Durdlebury as a duck to water. He +read for Holy Orders for seven years. When the question of his +ordination arose, he would declare impressively that his sacred duty +was the making of Marmaduke into a scholar and a Christian. That duty +accomplished, he would begin to think of himself. Mrs. Trevor +accounted him the most devoted and selfless friend that woman ever +had. He saw eye to eye with her in every detail of Marmaduke's +upbringing. He certainly taught the boy, who was naturally +intelligent, a great deal, and repaired the terrible gaps in Miss +Gunter's system of education. McPhail had started life with many eager +curiosities, under the impulse of which he had amassed considerable +knowledge of a superficial kind which, lolling in an arm-chair, with a +pipe in his mouth, he found easy to impart. To the credit side of Mrs. +Trevor's queer account it may be put that she did not object to +smoking. The late Canon smoked incessantly. Perhaps the odour of +tobacco was the only keen memory of her honeymoon and brief married +life. + +During his seven years of soft living, Phineas McPhail scientifically +developed an original taste for whisky. He seethed himself in it as +the ancients seethed a kid in its mother's milk. He had the art to do +himself to perfection. Mrs. Trevor beheld in him the mellowest and +blandest of men. Never had she the slightest suspicion of evil +courses. To such a pitch of cunning in the observance of the +proprieties had he arrived, that the very servants knew not of his +doings. It was only later--after Mrs. Trevor's death--when a surveyor +was called in by Marmaduke to put the old house in order, that a +disused well at the back of the house was found to be half filled with +hundreds of whisky bottles secretly thrown in by Phineas McPhail. + +The Dean and Mr. Manningtree, although ignorant of McPhail's habits, +agreed in calling him a lazy hound and a parasite on their fond +sister-in-law. And they were right. But Mrs. Trevor turned a deaf ear +to their slanders. They were unworthy to be called Christian men, let +alone ministers of the Gospel. Were it not for the sacred associations +of her father and her husband, she would never enter the cathedral +again. Mr. McPhail was exactly the kind of tutor that Marmaduke +needed. Mr. McPhail did not encourage him to play rough games, or take +long walks, or row on the river, because he appreciated his +constitutional delicacy. He was the only man in the world during her +unhappy widowhood who understood Marmaduke. He was a treasure beyond +price. + +When Doggie was sixteen, fate, fortune, chance, or whatever you like +to call it, did him a good turn. It made his mother ill, and sent him +away with her to foreign health resorts. Doggie and McPhail travelled +luxuriously, lived in luxurious hotels and visited in luxurious ease +various picture galleries and monuments of historic or aesthetic +interest. The boy, artistically inclined and guided by the idle yet +well-informed Phineas, profited greatly. Phineas sought profit to them +both in other ways. + +"Mrs. Trevor," said he, "don't you think it a sinful shame for +Marmaduke to waste his time over Latin and mathematics, and such +things as he can learn at home, instead of taking advantage of his +residence in a foreign country to perfect himself in the idiomatic and +conversational use of the language?" + +Mrs. Trevor, as usual, agreed. So thenceforward, whenever they were +abroad, which was for three or four months of each year, Phineas +revelled in sheer idleness, nicotine, and the skilful consumption of +alcohol, while highly paid professors taught Marmaduke--and, +incidentally, himself--French and Italian. + +Of the world, however, and of the facts, grim or seductive, of life, +Doggie learned little. Whether by force of some streak of honesty, +whether through sheer laziness, whether through canny self-interest, +Phineas McPhail conspired with Mrs. Trevor to keep Doggie in darkest +ignorance. His reading was selected like that of a young girl in a +convent: he was taken only to the most innocent of plays: foreign +theatres, casinos, and such-like wells of delectable depravity, +existed almost beyond his ken. Until he was twenty it never occurred +to him to sit up after his mother had gone to bed. Of strange +goddesses he knew nothing. His mother saw to that. He had a mild +affection for his cousin Peggy, which his mother encouraged. She +allowed him to smoke cigarettes, drink fine claret, the remains of the +cellar of her father, the bishop, a connoisseur, and _creme de +menthe_. And, until she died, that was all poor Doggie knew of the +lustiness of life. + +Mrs. Trevor died, and Doggie, as soon as he had recovered from the +intensity of his grief, looked out upon a lonely world. Phineas, like +Mrs. Micawber, swore he would never desert him. In the perils of Polar +exploration or the comforts of Denby Hall, he would find Phineas +McPhail ever by his side. The first half-dozen or so of these +declarations consoled Doggie tremendously. He dreaded the Church +swallowing up his only protector and leaving him defenceless. +Conscientiously, however, he said: + +"I don't want your affection for me to stand in your way, sir." + +"'Sir'?" cried Phineas, "is it not practicable for us to do away with +the old relations of master and pupil, and become as brothers? You are +now a man, and independent. Let us be Pylades and Orestes. Let us +share and share alike. Let us be Marmaduke and Phineas." + +Doggie was touched by such devotion. "But your ambitions to take Holy +Orders, which you have sacrificed for my sake?" + +"I think it may be argued," said Phineas, "that the really beautiful +life is delight in continued sacrifice. Besides, my dear boy, I am not +quite so sure as I was when I was young, that by confining oneself +within the narrow limits of a sacerdotal profession, one can retain +all one's wider sympathies both with human infirmity and the gladder +things of existence." + +"You're a true friend, Phineas," said Doggie. + +"I am," replied Phineas. + +It was just after this that Doggie wrote him a cheque for a thousand +pounds on account of a vaguely indicated year's salary. + +If Phineas had maintained the wily caution which he had exercised for +the past seven years, all might have been well. But there came a time +when unneedfully he declared once more that he would never desert +Marmaduke, and declaring it, hiccoughed so horribly and stared so +glassily, that Doggie feared he might be ill. He had just lurched into +Doggie's own peacock-blue and ivory sitting-room when he was +mournfully playing the piano. + +"You're unwell, Phineas. Let me get you something." + +"You're right, laddie," Phineas agreed, his legs giving way +alarmingly, so that he collapsed on a brocade-covered couch. "It's a +touch of the sun, which I would give you to understand," he continued +with a self-preservatory flash, for it was an overcast day in June, +"is often magnified in power when it is behind a cloud. A wee drop of +whisky is what I require for a complete recovery." + +Doggie ran into the dining-room and returned with a decanter of +whisky, glass and siphon--an adjunct to the sideboard since Mrs. +Trevor's death. Phineas filled half the tumbler with spirit, tossed it +off, smiled fantastically, tried to rise, and rolled upon the carpet. +Doggie, frightened, rang the bell. Peddle, the old butler, appeared. + +"Mr. McPhail is ill. I can't think what can be the matter with him." + +Peddle looked at the happy Phineas with the eyes of experience. + +"If you will allow me to say so, sir," said he, "the gentleman is dead +drunk." + +And that was the beginning of the end of Phineas. He lost grip of +himself. He became the scarlet scandal of Durdlebury and the terror of +Doggie's life. The Dean came to the rescue of a grateful nephew. A +swift attack of delirium tremens crowned and ended Phineas McPhail's +Durdlebury career. + +"My boy," said the Dean on the day of Phineas's expulsion, "I don't +want to rub it in unduly, but I've warned your poor mother for years, +and you for months, against this bone-idle, worthless fellow. Neither +of you would listen to me. But you see that I was right. Perhaps now +you may be more inclined to take my advice." + +"Yes, Uncle," replied Doggie submissively. + +The Dean, a comfortable florid man in the early sixties, took up his +parable and expounded it for three-quarters of an hour. If ever young +man heard that which was earnestly meant for his welfare, Doggie heard +it from his Very Reverend Uncle's lips. + +"And now, my dear boy," said the Dean by way of peroration, "you +cannot but understand that it is your bounden duty to apply yourself +to some serious purpose in life." + +"I do," said Doggie. "I've been thinking over it for a long time. I'm +going to gather material for a history of wall-papers." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Thenceforward Doggie, like the late Mr. Matthew Arnold's +fellow-millions, lived alone. He did not complain. There was little to +complain about. He owned a pleasant old house set in fifteen acres of +grounds. He had an income of three thousand pounds a year. Old Peddle, +the butler, and his wife, the housekeeper, saved him from domestic +cares. Rising late and retiring early, like the good King of Yvetot, he +cheated the hours that might have proved weary. His meals, his toilet, +his music, his wall-papers, his drawing and embroidering--specimens of +the last he exhibited with great success at various shows held by Arts +and Crafts Guilds, and such-like high and artistic fellowships--his +sweet-peas, his chrysanthemums, his postage stamps, his dilettante +reading and his mild social engagements, filled most satisfyingly the +hours not claimed by slumber. Now and then appointments with his +tailor summoned him to London. He stayed at the same mildewed old +family hotel in the neighbourhood of Bond Street at which his mother +and his grandfather, the bishop, had stayed for uncountable years. +There he would lunch and dine stodgily in musty state. In the evenings +he would go to the plays discussed in the less giddy of Durdlebury +ecclesiastical circles. The play over, it never occurred to him to do +otherwise than drive decorously back to Sturrocks's Hotel. Suppers at +the Carlton or the Savoy were outside his sphere of thought or +opportunity. His only acquaintance in London were vague elderly female +friends of his mother, who invited him to chilly semi-suburban teas +and entertained him with tepid reminiscence and criticism of their +divers places of worship. The days in London thus passed drearily, and +Doggie was always glad to get home again. + +In Durdlebury he began to feel himself appreciated. The sleepy society +of the place accepted him as a young man of unquestionable birth and +irreproachable morals. He could play the piano, the harp, the viola, +the flute, and the clarinet, and sing a very true mild tenor. As +secretary of the Durdlebury Musical Association, he filled an +important position in the town. Dr. Flint--Joshua Flint, Mus. +Doc.--organist of the cathedral, scattered broadcast golden opinions +of Doggie. There was once a concert of old English music, which the +dramatic critics of the great newspapers attended--and one of them +mentioned Doggie--"Mr. Marmaduke Trevor, who played the viol da gamba +as to the manner born." Doggie cut out the notice, framed it, and +stuck it up in his peacock and ivory sitting-room. + +Besides music, Doggie had other social accomplishments. He could +dance. He could escort young ladies home of nights. Not a dragon in +Durdlebury would not have trusted Doggie with untold daughters. With +women, old and young, he had no shynesses. He had been bred among +them, understood their purely feminine interests, and instinctively +took their point of view. On his visits to London, he could be +entrusted with commissions. He could choose the exact shade of silk +for a drawing-room sofa cushion, and had an unerring taste in the +selection of wedding presents. Young men, other than budding +ecclesiastical dignitaries, were rare in Durdlebury, and Doggie had +little to fear from the competition of coarser masculine natures. In a +word, Doggie was popular. + +Although of no mean or revengeful nature, he was human enough to feel +a little malicious satisfaction when it was proved to Durdlebury that +Oliver had gone to the devil. His Aunt Sarah, Mrs. Manningtree, had +died midway in the Phineas McPhail period; Mr. Manningtree a year or +so later had accepted a living in the North of England, and died when +Doggie was about four-and-twenty. Meanwhile Oliver, who had been +withdrawn young from Rugby, where he had been a thorn in the side of +the authorities, and had been pinned like a cockchafer to a desk in a +family counting-house in Lothbury, E.C., had broken loose, quarrelled +with his father, gone off with paternal malediction and a maternal +heritage of a thousand pounds to California, and was lost to the +family ken. When a man does not write to his family, what explanation +can there be save that he is ashamed to do so? Oliver was ashamed of +himself. He had taken to desperate courses. He was an outlaw. He had +gone to the devil. His name was rarely mentioned in Durdlebury--to +Marmaduke Trevor's very great and catlike satisfaction. Only to the +Dean's ripe and kindly wisdom was his name not utterly anathema. + +"My dear," said he once to his wife, who was deploring her nephew's +character and fate--"I have hopes of Oliver even yet. A man must have +something of the devil in him if he wants to drive the devil out." + +Mrs. Conover was shocked. "My dear Edward!" she cried. + +"My dear Sophia," said he, with a twinkle in his mild blue eyes that +had puzzled her from the day when he first put a decorous arm round +her waist. "My dear Sophia, if you knew what a ding-dong scrap of +fiends went on inside me before I could bring myself to vow to be a +virtuous milk-and-water parson, your hair, which is as long and +beautiful as ever, would stand up straight on end." + +Mrs. Conover sighed. + +"I give you up." + +"It's too late," said the Dean. + + * * * * * + +The Manningtrees, father and mother and son, were gone. Doggie bore +the triple loss with equanimity. Then Peggy Conover, hitherto under +the eclipse of boarding-schools, finishing schools and foreign travel, +swam, at the age of twenty, within his orbit. When first they met, +after a year's absence, she very gracefully withered the symptoms of +the cousinly kiss, to which they had been accustomed all their lives, +by stretching out a long, frank, and defensive arm. Perhaps if she had +allowed the salute, there would have been an end of the matter. But +there came the phenomenon which, unless she was a minx of craft and +subtlety, she did not anticipate; for the first time in his life he +was possessed of a crazy desire to kiss her. Doggie fell in love. It +was not a wild consuming passion. He slept well, he ate well, and he +played the flute without a sigh causing him to blow discordantly into +the holes of the instrument. Peggy vowing that she would not marry a +parson, he had no rivals. He knew not even the pinpricks of jealousy. +Peggy liked him. At first she delighted in him as in a new and +animated toy. She could pull strings and the figure worked amazingly +and amusingly. He proved himself to be a useful toy, too. He was at +her beck all day long. He ran on errands, he fetched and carried. +Peggy realized blissfully that she owned him. He haunted the Deanery. + +One evening after dinner the Dean said: + +"I am going to play the heavy father. How are things between you and +Peggy?" + +Marmaduke, taken unawares, reddened violently. He murmured that he +didn't know. + +"You ought to," said the Dean. "When a young man converts himself into +a girl's shadow, even although he is her cousin and has been brought +up with her from childhood, people begin to gossip. They gossip even +within the august precincts of a stately cathedral." + +"I'm very sorry," said Marmaduke. "I've had the very best intentions." + +The Dean smiled. + +"What were they?" + +"To make her like me a little," replied Marmaduke. Then, feeling that +the Dean was kindly disposed, he blurted out awkwardly: "I hoped that +one day I might ask her to marry me." + +"That's what I wanted to know," said the Dean. + +"You haven't done it yet?" + +"No," said Marmaduke. + +"Why don't you?" + +"It seems taking such a liberty," replied Marmaduke. + +The Dean laughed. "Well, I'm not going to do it for you. My chief +desire is to regularize the present situation. I can't have you two +running about together all day and every day. If you like to ask +Peggy, you have my permission and her mother's." + +"Thank you, Uncle Edward," said Marmaduke. + +"Let us join the ladies," said the Dean. + +In the drawing-room the Dean exchanged glances with his wife. She saw +that he had done as he had been bidden. Marmaduke was not an ideal +husband for a brisk, pleasure-loving modern young woman. But where was +another husband to come from? Peggy had banned the Church. Marmaduke +was wealthy, sound in health and free from vice. It was obvious to +maternal eyes that he was in love with Peggy. According to the Dean, +if he wasn't, he oughtn't to be for ever at her heels. The young woman +herself seemed to take considerable pleasure in his company. If she +cared nothing for him, she was acting in a reprehensible manner. So +the Dean had been deputed to sound Marmaduke. + +Half an hour later the young people were left alone. First the Dean +went to his study. Then Mrs. Conover departed to write letters. +Marmaduke advancing across the room from the door which he had opened, +met Peggy's mocking eyes as she stood on the hearthrug with her hands +behind her back. Doggie felt very uncomfortable. Never had he said a +word to her in betrayal of his feelings. He had a vague idea that +propriety required a young man to get through some wooing before +asking a girl to marry him. To ask first and woo afterwards seemed +putting the cart before the horse. But how to woo that remarkably cool +and collected young person standing there, passed his wit. + +"Well," she said, "the dear old birds seem very fussy to-night. What's +the matter?" And as he said nothing, but stood confused with his hands +in his pockets, she went on. "You, too, seem rather ruffled. Look at +your hair." + +Doggie, turning to a mirror, perceived that an agitated hand had +disturbed the symmetry of his sleek black hair, brushed without a +parting away from the forehead over his head. Hastily he smoothed down +the cockatoo-like crest. + +"I've been talking to your father, Peggy." + +"Have you really?" she said with a laugh. + +Marmaduke summoned his courage. + +"He told me I might ask you to marry me," he said. + +"Do you want to?" + +"Of course I do," he declared. + +"Then why not do it?" + +But before he could answer, she clapped her hands on his shoulders, +and shook him, and laughed out loud. + +"Oh, you dear silly old thing! What a way to propose to a girl!" + +"I've never done such a thing before," said Doggie, as soon as he was +released. + +She resumed her attitude on the hearthrug. + +"I'm in no great hurry to be married. Are you?" + +He said: "I don't know. I've never thought of it. Just whenever you +like." + +"All right," she returned calmly. "Let it be a year hence. Meanwhile, +we can be engaged. It'll please the dear old birds. I know all the +tabbies in the town have been mewing about us. Now they can mew about +somebody else." + +"That's awfully good of you, Peggy," said Marmaduke. "I'll go up to +town to-morrow and get you the jolliest ring you ever saw." + +She sketched him a curtsy. "That's one thing, at any rate, I can trust +you in--your taste in jewellery." + +He moved nearer to her. "I suppose you know, Peggy dear, I've been +awfully fond of you for quite a long time." + +"The feeling is more or less reciprocated," she replied lightly. Then, +"You can kiss me if you like. I assure you it's quite usual." + +He kissed her somewhat shyly on the lips. + +She whispered: "I do think I care for you, old thing." Marmaduke +replied sententiously: "You have made me a very happy man." Then they +sat down side by side on the sofa, and for all Peggy's mocking +audacity, they could find nothing in particular to say to each other. + +"Let us play patience," she said at last. + +And when Mrs. Conover appeared awhile later, she found them poring +over the cards in a state of unruffled calm. Peggy looked up, smiled, +and nodded. + +"We've fixed it up, Mummy; but we're not going to be married for a +year." + +Doggie went home that evening in a tepid glow. It contented him. He +thought himself the luckiest of mortals. A young man with more passion +or imagination might have deplored the lack of romance in the +betrothal. He might have desired on the part of the maiden either more +shyness, delicacy, and elusiveness, or more resonant emotion. The +finer tendrils of his being might have shivered, ready to shrivel, as +at a touch of frost, in the cool ironical atmosphere which the girl +had created around her. But Doggie was not such a young man. Such +passions as heredity had endowed him with had been drugged by +training. No tales of immortal love had ever fired his blood. Once, +somewhere abroad, the unprincipled McPhail found him reading _Manon +Lescaut_--he had bought a cheap copy haphazard--and taking the +delectable volume out of his hands, asked him what he thought of it. + +"It's like reading about a lunatic," replied the bewildered Doggie. +"Do such people as Des Grieux exist?" + +"Ay, laddie," replied McPhail, greatly relieved. "Your acumen has +pierced to the root of the matter. They do exist, but nowadays we put +them into asylums. We must excuse the author for living in the +psychological obscurity of the eighteenth century. It's just a silly, +rotten book." + +"I'm glad you're of the same opinion as myself," said Doggie, and +thought no more of the absurd but deathless pair of lovers. The +unprincipled McPhail, not without pawky humour, immediately gave him +_Paul et Virginie_, which Doggie, after reading it, thought the truest +and most beautiful story in the world. Even in later years, when his +intelligence had ripened and his sphere of reading expanded, he looked +upon the passion of a Romeo or an Othello as a conventional peg on +which the poet hung his imagery, but having no more relation to real +life as it is lived by human beings than the blood-lust of the +half-man, half-bull Minotaur, or the uncomfortable riding conversation +of the Valkyrie. + +So Doggie Trevor went home perfectly contented with himself, with +Peggy Conover, with his Uncle and Aunt, of whom hitherto he had been +just a little bit afraid, with Fortune, with Fate, with his house, +with his peacock and ivory room, with a great clump of typescript and +a mass of coloured proof-prints, which represented a third of his +projected history of wall-papers, with his feather-bed, with Goliath, +his almost microscopic Belgian griffon, with a set of Nile-green silk +underwear that had just come from his outfitters in London, with his +new Rolls-Royce car and his new chauffeur Briggins (parenthetically it +may be remarked that a seven-hour excursion in this vehicle, youth in +the back seat and Briggins at the helm, all ordained by Peggy, had +been the final cause of the evening's explanations), with the starry +heavens above, with the well-ordered earth beneath them, and with all +human beings on the earth, including Germans, Turks, Infidels, and +Hereticks--all save one: and that, as he learned from a letter +delivered by the last post, was a callous, heartless London manicurist +who, giving no reasons, regretted that she would be unable to pay her +usual weekly visit to Durdlebury on the morrow. Of all days in the +year: just when it was essential that he should look his best! + +"What the deuce am I going to do?" he cried, pitching the letter into +the waste-paper basket. + +He sat down to the piano in the peacock and ivory room and tried to +play the nasty crumpled rose-leaf of a manicurist out of his mind. + +Suddenly he remembered, with a kind of shock, that he had pledged +himself to go up to London the next day to buy an engagement-ring. So +after all the manicurist's defection did not matter. All was again +well with the world. + +Then he went to bed and slept the sleep of the just and perfect man +living the just and perfect life in a just and perfect universe. + +And the date of this happening was the fifteenth day of July in the +year of grace one thousand nine hundred and fourteen. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The shadow cast by the great apse of the cathedral slanted over the +end of the Deanery garden, leaving the house in the blaze of the +afternoon sun, and divided the old red-brick wall into a vivid +contrast of tones. The peace of centuries brooded over the place. No +outside convulsions could ever cause a flutter of her calm wings. As +it was thirty years ago, when the Dean first came to Durdlebury, as it +was three hundred, six hundred years ago, so it was now; and so it +would be hundreds of years hence as long as that majestic pile housing +the Spirit of God should last. + +Thus thought, thus, in some such words, proclaimed the Dean, sitting +in the shade, with his hands clasped behind his head. Tea was over. +Mrs. Conover, thin and faded, still sat by the little table, wondering +whether she might now blow out the lamp beneath the silver kettle. Sir +Archibald Bruce, a neighbouring landowner, and his wife had come, +bringing their daughter Dorothy to play tennis. The game had already +started on the court some little distance off--the players being +Dorothy, Peggy and a couple of athletic, flannel-clad parsons. +Marmaduke Trevor reposed on a chair under the lee of Lady Bruce. He +looked very cool and spick and span in a grey cashmere suit, grey +shirt, socks and tie, and grey _suede_ shoes. He had a weak, +good-looking little face and a little black moustache turned up at the +ends. He was discoursing to his neighbour on Palestrina. + +The Dean's proclamation had been elicited by some remark of Sir +Archibald. + +"I wonder how you have stuck it for so long," said the latter. He had +been a soldier in his youth and an explorer, and had shot big game. + +"I haven't your genius, my dear Bruce, for making myself +uncomfortable," replied the Dean. + +"You were energetic enough when you first came here," said Sir +Archibald. "We all thought you a desperate fellow who was going to +rebuild the cathedral, turn the Close into industrial dwellings, and +generally play the deuce." + +The Dean sighed pleasantly. He had snowy hair and a genial, florid, +clean-shaven face. + +"I was appointed very young--six-and-thirty--and I thought I could +fight against the centuries. As the years went on I found I couldn't. +The grey changelessness of things got hold of me, incorporated me into +them. When I die--for I hope I shan't have to resign through doddering +senility--my body will be buried there"--he jerked his head slightly +towards the cathedral--"and my dust will become part and parcel of the +fabric--like that of many of my predecessors." + +"That's all very well," said Sir Archibald, "but they ought to have +caught you before this petrification set in, and made you a bishop." + +It was somewhat of an old argument, for the two were intimates. The +Dean smiled and shook his head. + +"You know I declined----" + +"After you had become petrified." + +"Perhaps so. It is not a place where ambitions can attain a riotous +growth." + +"I call it a rotten place," said the elderly worldling. "I wouldn't +live in it myself for twenty thousand a year." + +"Lots like you said the same in crusading times--Sir Guy de Chevenix, +for instance, who was the Lord, perhaps, of your very Manor, and an +amazing fire-eater--but--see the gentle irony of it--there his bones +lie, at peace for ever, in the rotten place, with his effigy over them +cross-legged and his dog at his feet, and his wife by his side. I +think he must sometimes look out of Heaven's gate down on the +cathedral and feel glad, grateful--perhaps a bit wistful--if the +attribution of wistfulness, which implies regret, to a spirit in +Paradise doesn't savour of heresy----" + +"I'm going to be cremated," interrupted Sir Archibald, twirling his +white moustache. + +The Dean smiled and did not take up the cue. The talk died. It was a +drowsy day. The Dean went off into a little reverie. Perhaps his old +friend's reproach was just. Dean of a great cathedral at thirty-six, +he had the world of dioceses at his feet. Had he used to the full the +brilliant talents with which he started? He had been a good Dean, a +capable, business-like Dean. There was not a stone of the cathedral +that he did not know and cherish. Under his care the stability of +every part of the precious fabric had been assured for a hundred +years. Its financial position, desperate on his appointment, was now +sound. He had come into a scene of petty discords and jealousies; for +many years there had been a no more united chapter in any cathedral +close in England. As an administrator he had been a success. The +devotion of his life to the cathedral had its roots deep in spiritual +things. For the greater glory of God had the vast edifice been +erected, and for the greater glory of God had he, its guardian, +reverently seen to its preservation and perfect appointment. Would he +have served God better by pursuing the ambitions of youth? He could +have had his bishopric; but he knew that the choice lay between him +and Chanways, a flaming spirit, eager for power, who hadn't the sacred +charge of a cathedral, and he declined. And now Chanways was a force +in the Church and the country, and was making things hum. If he, +Conover, after fifteen years of Durdlebury, had accepted, he would +have lost the power to make things hum. He would have made a very +ordinary, painstaking bishop, and his successor at Durdlebury might +possibly have regarded that time-worn wonder of spiritual beauty +merely as a stepping-stone to higher sacerdotal things. Such a man, he +considered, having once come under the holy glamour of the cathedral, +would have been guilty of the Unforgivable Sin. He had therefore saved +two unfortunate situations. + +"You are quite an intelligent man, Bruce," he said, with a sudden +whimsicality, "but I don't think you would ever understand." + +The set of tennis being over, Peggy, flushed and triumphant, rushed +into the party in the shade. + +"Mr. Petherbridge and I have won--six--three," she announced. The old +gentlemen smiled and murmured their congratulations. She swung to the +tea-table some paces away, and plucked Marmaduke by the sleeve, +interrupting him in the middle of an argument. He rose politely. + +"Come and play." + +"My dear," he said, "I'm such a duffer at games." + +"Never mind; you'll learn in time." + +He drew out a grey silk handkerchief as if ready to perspire at the +first thought of it. "Tennis makes one so dreadfully hot," said he. + +Peggy tapped the point of her foot irritably, but she laughed as she +turned to Lady Bruce. + +"What's the good of being engaged to a man if he can't play tennis +with you?" + +"There are other things in life besides tennis, my dear," replied Lady +Bruce. + +The girl flushed, but being aware that a pert answer turneth away +pleasant invitations, said nothing. She nodded and went off to her +game, and informing Mr. Petherbridge that Lady Bruce was a +platitudinous old tabby, flirted with him up to the nice limits of his +parsonical dignity. But Marmaduke did not mind. + +"Games are childish and somewhat barbaric. Don't you think so, Lady +Bruce?" + +"Most young people seem fond of them," replied the lady. "Exercise +keeps them in health." + +"It all depends," he argued. "Often they get exceedingly hot, then +they sit about and catch their death of cold." + +"That's very true," said Lady Bruce. "It's what I'm always telling Sir +Archibald about golf. Only last week he caught a severe chill in that +very way. I had to rub his chest with camphorated oil." + +"Just as my poor dear mother used to do to me," said Marmaduke. + +There followed a conversation on ailments and their treatment, in +which Mrs. Conover joined. Marmaduke was quite happy. He knew that the +two elderly ladies admired the soundness of his views and talked to +him as to one of themselves. + +"I'm sure, my dear Marmaduke, you're very wise to take care of +yourself," said Lady Bruce, "especially now, when you have the +responsibilities of married life before you." + +Marmaduke curled himself up comfortably in his chair. If he had been a +cat, he would have purred. The old butler, grown as grey in the +service of the Deanery as the cathedral itself--he had been page and +footman to Dr. Conover's predecessor--removed the tea-things and +brought out a tray of glasses and lemonade with ice clinking +refreshingly against the sides of the jug. When the game was over, the +players came and drank and sat about the lawn. The shadow of the apse +had spread over the garden to the steps of the porch. Anyone looking +over the garden wall would have beheld a scene typical of the heart of +England--a scene of peace, ease and perfectly ordered comfort. The two +well-built young men, one a minor canon, the other a curate, lounging +in their flannels, clever-faced, honest-eyed, could have been bred +nowhere but in English public schools and at Oxford or Cambridge. The +two elderly ladies were of the fine flower of provincial England; the +two old men, so different outwardly, one burly, florid, exquisitely +ecclesiastical, the other thin, nervous, soldierly, each was an +expression of high English tradition. The two young girls, unerringly +correct and dainty, for all their modern abandonment of attitude, +pretty, flushed of cheek, frank of glance, were two of a hundred +thousand flowers of girlhood that could have been picked that +afternoon in lazy English gardens. And Marmaduke's impeccable grey +costume struck a harmonizing English note of Bond Street and the +Burlington Arcade. The scent of the roses massed in delicate splendour +against the wall, and breathing now that the cool shade had fallen on +them, crept through the still air to the flying buttresses and the +window mullions and traceries and the pinnacles of the great English +cathedral. And in the midst of the shaven lawn gleamed the old +cut-glass jug on its silver tray. + +Some one did look over the wall and survey the scene: a man, +apparently supporting himself with tense, straightened arms on the +coping; a man with a lean, bronzed, clean-shaven face, wearing an old +soft felt hat at a swaggering angle; a man with a smile on his face +and a humorous twinkle in his eyes. By chance he had leisure to survey +the scene for some time unobserved. At last he shouted: + +"Hello! Have none of you ever moved for the last ten years?" + +At the summons every one was startled. The young men scrambled to +their feet. The Dean rose and glared at the intruder, who sprang over +the wall, recklessly broke through the rose-bushes and advanced with +outstretched hand to meet him. + +"Hello, Uncle Edward!" + +"Goodness gracious me!" cried the Dean. "It's Oliver!" + +"Right first time," said the young man, gripping him by the hand. +"You're not looking a day older. And Aunt Sophia----" He strode up to +Mrs. Conover and kissed her. "Do you know," he went on, holding her at +arm's length and looking round at the astonished company, "the last +time I saw you all you were doing just the same! I peeped over the +wall just before I went away, just such a summer afternoon as this, +and you were all sitting round drinking the same old lemonade out of +the same old jug--and, Lady Bruce, you were here, and you, Sir +Archibald"--he shook hands with them rapidly. "You haven't changed a +bit. And you--good Lord! Is this Peggy?" He put his hand on the Dean's +shoulder and pointed at the girl. + +"That's Peggy," said the Dean. + +"You're the only thing that's grown. I used to gallop with you on my +shoulders all round the lawn. I suppose you remember? How do you do?" + +And without waiting for an answer he kissed her soundly. It was all +done with whirlwind suddenness. The tempestuous young man had +scattered every one's wits. All stared at him. Releasing Peggy---- + +"My holy aunt!" he cried, "there's another of 'em. It's Doggie! You +were in the old picture, and I'm blessed if you weren't wearing the +same beautiful grey suit. How do, Doggie?" + +He gripped Doggie's hand. Doggie's lips grew white. + +"I'm glad to welcome you back, Oliver," he said. "But I would have you +to know that my name is Marmaduke." + +"Sooner be called Doggie myself, old chap," said Oliver. + +He stepped back, smiling at them all--a handsome devil-may-care +fellow, tall, tough and supple, his hands in the pockets of a +sun-stained double-breasted blue jacket. + +"We're indeed glad to see you, my dear boy," said the Dean, recovering +equanimity; "but what have you been doing all this time? And where on +earth have you come from?" + +"I've just come from the South Seas. Arrived in London last evening. +This morning I thought I'd come and look you up." + +"But if you had let us know you were coming, we should have met you at +the station with the car. Where's your luggage?" + +He jerked a hand. "In the road. My man's sitting on it. Oh, don't +worry about him," he cried airily to the protesting Dean. "He's well +trained. He'll go on sitting on it all night." + +"You've brought a man--a valet?" asked Peggy. + +"It seems so." + +"Then you must be getting on." + +"I don't think he turns you out very well," said Doggie. + +"You must really let one of the servants see about your things, +Oliver," said Mrs. Conover, moving towards the porch. "What will +people say?" + +He strode after her, and kissed her. "Oh, you dear old Durdlebury +Aunt! Now I know I'm in England again. I haven't heard those words for +years!" + +Mrs. Conover's hospitable intentions were anticipated by the old +butler, who advanced to meet them with the news that Sir Archibald's +car had been brought round. As soon as he recognized Oliver he started +back, mouth agape. + +"Yes, it's me all right, Burford," laughed Oliver. "How did I get +here? I dropped from the moon." + +He shook hands with Burford, of whose life he had been the plague +during his childhood, proclaimed him as hardy and unchanging as a +gargoyle, and instructed him where to find man and luggage. + +The Bruces and the two clerical tennis players departed. Marmaduke was +for taking his leave too. All his old loathing of Oliver had suddenly +returned. His cousin stood for everything he detested--swagger, +arrogance, self-assurance. He hated the shabby rakishness of his +attire, the self-assertive aquiline beak of a nose which he had +inherited from his father, the Rector. He dreaded his aggressive +masculinity. He had come back with the same insulting speech on his +lips. His finger-nails were dreadful. Marmaduke desired as little as +possible of his odious company. But his Aunt Sophia cried out: + +"You'll surely dine with us to-night, Marmaduke, to celebrate Oliver's +return?" + +And Oliver chimed in, "Do! And don't worry about changing," as Doggie +began to murmur excuses, "I can't. I've no evening togs. My old ones +fell to bits when I was trying to put them on, on board the steamer, +and I had to chuck 'em overboard. They turned up a shark, who went for +'em. So don't you worry, Doggie, old chap. You look as pretty as paint +as you are. Doesn't he, Peggy?" + +Peggy, with a slight flush on her cheek, came to the rescue and linked +her arm in Marmaduke's. + +"You haven't had time to learn everything yet, Oliver; but I think you +ought to know that we are engaged." + +"Holy Gee! Is that so? My compliments." He swept them a low bow. "God +bless you, my children!" + +"Of course he'll stay to dinner," said Peggy; and she looked at Oliver +as who should say, "Touch him at your peril: he belongs to me." + +So Doggie had to yield. Mrs. Conover went into the house to arrange +for Oliver's comfort, and the others strolled round the garden. + +"Well, my boy," said the Dean, "so you're back in the old country?" + +"Turned up again like a bad penny." + +The Dean's kindly face clouded. "I hope you'll soon be able to find +something to do." + +"It's money I want, not work," said Oliver. + +"Ah!" said the Dean, in a tone so thoughtful as just to suggest a lack +of sympathy. + +Oliver looked over his shoulder--the Dean and himself were preceding +Marmaduke and Peggy on the trim gravel path. "Do you care to lend me a +few thousands, Doggie?" + +"Certainly not," replied Marmaduke. + +"There's family affection for you, Uncle Edward! I've come half-way +round the earth to see him, and--say, will you lend me a fiver?" + +"If you need it," said Marmaduke in a dignified way, "I shall be very +happy to advance you five pounds." + +Oliver brought the little party to a halt and burst into laughter. + +"I believe you good people think I've come back broke to the world. +The black sheep returned like a wolf to the fold. Only Peggy drew a +correct inference from the valet--wait till you see him! As Peggy +said, I've been getting on." He laid a light hand on the Dean's +shoulder. "While all you folks in Durdlebury, especially my dear +Doggie, for the last ten years have been durdling, I've been doing. +I've not come all this way to tap relations for five-pound notes. I'm +swaggering into the City of London for Capital--with a great big C." + +Marmaduke twirled his little moustache. "You've taken to company +promoting," he remarked acidly. + +"I have. And a damn--I beg your pardon, Uncle Edward--we poor Pacific +Islanders lisp in damns for want of deans to hold us up--and a jolly +good company too. We--that's I and another man--that's all the company +as yet--two's company, you know--own a trading fleet." + +"You own ships?" cried Peggy. + +"Rather. Own 'em, sail 'em, navigate 'em, stoke 'em, clean out the +boilers, sit on the safety valves when we want to make speed, do every +old thing----" + +"And what do you trade in?" asked the Dean. + +"Copra, beche-de-mer, mother-of-pearl----" + +"Mother-of-pearl! How awfully romantic!" cried Peggy. + +"We've got a fishery. At any rate, the concession. To work it properly +we require capital. That's why I'm here--to turn the concern into a +limited company." + +"And where is this wonderful place?" asked the Dean. + +"Huaheine." + +"What a beautiful word!" + +"Isn't it?" said Oliver. "Like the sigh of a girl in her sleep." + +The old Dean shot a swift glance at his nephew; then took his arm and +walked on, and looked at the vast mass of the cathedral and at the +quiet English garden in its evening shadow. + +"Copra, beche-de-mer, mother-of-pearl, Huaheine," he murmured. "And +these strange foreign things are the commonplaces of your life!" + +Peggy and Marmaduke lagged behind a little. She pressed his arm. + +"I'm so glad you're staying for dinner. I shouldn't like to think you +were running away from him." + +"I was only afraid of losing my temper and making a scene," replied +Doggie with dignity. + +"His manners are odious," said Peggy. "You leave him to me." + +Suddenly the Dean, taking a turn that brought him into view of the +porch, stopped short. + +"Goodness gracious!" he cried. "Who in the world is that?" + +He pointed to a curious object slouching across the lawn; a short +hirsute man wearing a sailor's jersey and smoking a stump of a +blackened pipe. His tousled head was bare; he had very long arms and +great powerful hands protruded at the end of long sinewy wrists from +inadequate sleeves. A pair of bright eyes shone out of his dark shaggy +face, like a Dandy Dinmont's. His nose was large and red. He rolled as +he walked. Such a sight had never been seen before in the Deanery +garden. + +"That's my man. Peggy's valet," said Oliver airily. "His name is +Chipmunk. A beauty, isn't he?" + +"Like master, like man," murmured Doggie. + +Oliver's quick ears caught the words intended only for Peggy. He +smiled brightly. + +"If you knew what a compliment you were paying me, Doggie, you +wouldn't have said such a thing." + +The man seeing the company stare at him, halted, took his pipe out of +his mouth, and scratched his head. + +"But--er--forgive me, my dear Oliver," said the Dean. "No doubt he is +an excellent fellow--but don't you think he might smoke his pipe +somewhere else?" + +"Of course he might," said Oliver. "And he jolly well shall." He put +his hand to his mouth, sea-fashion--they were about thirty yards +apart--and shouted: "Here, you! What the eternal blazes are you doing +here?" + +"Please don't hurt the poor man's feelings," said the kindly Dean. + +Oliver turned a blank look on his Uncle. "His what? Ain't got any. Not +that kind of feelings." He proceeded: "Now then, look lively! Clear +out! Skidoo!" + +The valet touched his forehead in salute, and--"Where am I to go to, +Cap'en?" + +"Go to----" + +Oliver checked himself in time, and turned to the Dean. + +"Where shall I tell him to go?" he asked sweetly. + +"The kitchen garden would be the best place," replied the Dean. + +"I think I'd better go and fix him up myself," said Oliver. "A little +conversation in his own language might be beneficial." + +"But isn't he English?" asked Peggy. + +"Born and bred in Wapping," said Oliver. + +He marched off across the lawn; and, could they have heard it, the +friendly talk that he had with Chipmunk would have made the Saint and +the Divines, and even the Crusader, Sir Guy de Chevenix, who were +buried in the cathedral, turn in their tombs. + +Doggie, watching the disappearing Chipmunk, Oliver's knuckles in his +neck, said: + +"I think it monstrous of Oliver to bring such a disreputable creature +down here." + +Said the Dean: "At any rate, it brings a certain excitement into our +quiet surroundings." + +"They must be having the time of their lives in the Servants' Hall," +said Peggy. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +After breakfast the next morning Doggie, attired in a green shot-silk +dressing-gown, entered his own particular room and sat down to think. +In its way it was a very beautiful room--high, spacious, +well-proportioned, facing south-east. The wall-paper, which he had +designed himself, was ivory-white with veinings of peacock-blue. Into +the ivory-silk curtains were woven peacocks in full pride. The +cushions were ivory and peacock-blue. The chairs, the writing-table, +the couch, the bookcases, were pure Sheraton and Hepplewhite. +Vellum-bound books filled the cases--Doggie was very particular about +his bindings. Delicate water-colours alone adorned the walls. On his +neatly arranged writing-table lay an ivory set--inkstand, pen-tray, +blotter and calendar. Bits of old embroidery harmonizing with the +peacock shades were spread here and there. A pretty collection of +eighteenth-century Italian ivory statuettes were grouped about the +room. A spinet, inlaid with ebony and ivory, formed a centre for the +arrangement of many other musical instruments--a viol, mandolins gay +with ribbons, a theorbo, flutes and clarinets. Through the curtains, +draped across an alcove, could be guessed the modern monstrosity of a +grand piano. One tall closed cabinet was devoted to his collection of +wall-papers. Another, open, to a collection of little dogs in china, +porcelain, faience; thousands of them; he got them through dealers +from all over the world. He had the finest collection in existence, +and maintained a friendly and learned correspondence with the other +collector--an elderly, disillusioned Russian prince, who lived +somewhere near Nijni-Novgorod. On the spinet and on the writing-table +were great bowls of golden _rayon d'or_ roses. + +Doggie sat down to think. An unwonted frown creased his brow. Several +problems distracted him. The morning sun streaming into the room +disclosed, beyond doubt, discolorations, stains and streaks on the +wall-paper. It would have to be renewed. Already he had decided to +design something to take its place. But last night Peggy had declared +her intention to turn this abode of bachelor comfort into the +drawing-room, and to hand over to his personal use some other +apartment, possibly the present drawing-room, which received all the +blaze and glare of the afternoon sun. What should he do? Live in the +sordidness of discoloured wall-paper for another year, or go through +the anxiety of artistic effort and manufacturers' stupidity and delay, +to say nothing of the expense, only to have the whole thing scrapped +before the wedding? Doggie had a foretaste of the dilemmas of +matrimony. He had a gnawing suspicion that the trim and perfect life +was difficult of attainment. + +Then, meandering through this wilderness of dubiety, ran thoughts of +Oliver. Every one seemed to have gone crazy over him. Uncle Edward and +Aunt Sophia had hung on his lips while he lied unblushingly about his +adventures. Even Peggy had listened open-eyed and open-mouthed when he +had told a tale of shipwreck in the South Seas: how the schooner had +been caught in some beastly wind and the masts had been torn out and +the rudder carried away, and how it had struck a reef, and how +something had hit him on the head, and he knew no more till he woke up +on a beach and found that the unspeakable Chipmunk had swum with him +for a week--or whatever the time was--until they got to land. If +hulking, brainless dolts like Oliver, thought Doggie, like to fool +around in schooners and typhoons, they must take the consequences. +There was nothing to brag about. The higher man was the intellectual, +the aesthetic, the artistic being. What did Oliver know of Lydian modes +or Louis Treize decoration or Astec clay dogs? Nothing. He couldn't +even keep his socks from slopping about over his shoes. And there was +Peggy all over the fellow, although before dinner she had said she +couldn't bear the sight of him. Doggie was perturbed. On bidding him +good night, she had kissed him in the most perfunctory manner--merely +the cousinly peck of a dozen years ago--and had given no thought to +the fact that he was driving home in an open car without an overcoat. +He had felt distinctly chilly on his arrival, and had taken a dose of +ammoniated quinine. Was Peggy's indifference a sign that she had +ceased to care for him? That she was attracted by the buccaneering +Oliver? + +Now suppose the engagement was broken off, he would be free to do as +he chose with the redecoration of the room. But suppose, as he +sincerely and devoutly hoped, it wasn't? Dilemma on dilemma. Added to +all this, Goliath, the miniature Belgian griffon, having probably +overeaten himself, had complicated pains inside, and the callous vet. +could or would not come round till the evening. In the meantime, +Goliath might die. + +He was at this point of his reflections, when to his horror he +heard a familiar voice outside the door. + +"All right, Peddle. Don't worry. I'll show myself in. Look after that +man of mine. Quite easy. Give him some beer in a bucket and leave him +to it." + +Then the door burst open and Oliver, pipe in mouth and hat on one +side, came into the room. + +"Hallo, Doggie! Thought I'd look you up. Hope I'm not disturbing you." + +"Not at all," said Doggie. "Do sit down." + +But Oliver walked about and looked at things. + +"I like your water-colours. Did you collect them yourself?" + +"Yes." + +"I congratulate you on your taste. This is a beauty. Who is it by?" + +The appreciation brought Doggie at once to his side. Oliver, the +connoisseur, was showing himself in a new and agreeable light. Doggie +took him delightedly round the pictures, expounding their merits and +their little histories. He found that Oliver, although unlearned, had +a true sense of light and colour and tone. He was just beginning to +like him, when the tactless fellow, stopping before the collection of +little dogs, spoiled everything. + +"My holy aunt!" he cried--an objurgation which Doggie had abhorred +from boyhood--and he doubled with laughter in his horrid schoolboy +fashion--"My dear Doggie--is that your family? How many litters?" + +"It's the finest collection of the kind in the world," replied Doggie +stiffly, "and is worth several thousand pounds." + +Oliver heaved himself into a chair--that was Doggie's impression of +his method of sitting down--a Sheraton chair with delicate arms and +legs. + +"Forgive me," he said, "but you're such a funny devil."--Doggie gaped. +The conception of himself as a funny devil was new.--"Pictures and +music I can understand. But what the deuce is the point of these dam +little dogs?" + +But Doggie was hurt. "It would be useless to try to explain," said he. + +Oliver took off his hat and sent it skimming on to the couch. + +"Look here, old chap," he said, "I seem to have put my foot into it +again. I didn't mean to, really. Peggy gave me hell this morning for +not treating you as a man and a brother, and I came round to try to +put things right." + +"It's very considerate of Peggy, I'm sure," said Marmaduke. + +"Now look here, old Doggie----" + +"I told you when we first met yesterday that I vehemently object to +being called Doggie." + +"But why?" asked Oliver. "I've made inquiries, and find that all your +pals----" + +"I haven't any pals, as you call them." + +"Well, all our male contemporaries in the place who have the honour of +your acquaintance--they all call you Doggie, and you don't seem to +mind." + +"I do mind," replied Marmaduke angrily, "but as I avoid their company +as much as possible, it doesn't very much matter." + +Oliver stretched out his legs and put his hands behind his back--then +wriggled to his feet. "What a beast of a chair! Anyhow," he went on, +puffing at his pipe, "don't let us quarrel. I'll call you Marmaduke, +if you like, when I can remember--it's a beast of a name--like the +chair. I'm a rough sort of chap. I've had ten years' pretty rough +training. I've slept on boards. I've slept in the open without a cent +to hire a board. I've gone cold and I've gone hungry, and men have +knocked me about and I've knocked men about--and I've lost the +Durdlebury sense of social values. In the wilds if a man once gets the +name, say, of Duck-Eyed Joe, it sticks to him, and he accepts it and +answers to it, and signs 'Duck-Eyed Joe' on an IOU and honours the +signature." + +"But I'm not in the wilds," said Marmaduke, "and haven't the slightest +intention of ever leading the unnatural and frightful life you +describe. So what you say doesn't apply to me." + +"Quite so," replied Oliver. "That wasn't the moral of my discourse. +The habit of mind engendered in the wilds applies to me. Just as I +could never think of Duck-Eyed Joe as George Wilkinson, so you, James +Marmaduke Trevor, will live imperishably in my mind as Doggie. I was +making a sort of apology, old chap, for my habit of mind." + +"If it is an apology----" said Marmaduke. + +Oliver, laughing, clapped him boisterously on the shoulder. "Oh, you +solemn comic cuss!" He strode to a rose-bowl and knocked the ashes of +his pipe into the water--Doggie trembled lest he might next squirt +tobacco juice over the ivory curtains. "You don't give a fellow a +chance. Look here, tell me, as man to man, what are you going to do +with your life? I don't mean it in the high-brow sense of people who +live in unsuccessful plays and garden cities, but in the ordinary +common-sense way of the world. Here you are, young, strong, educated, +intelligent----" + +"I'm not strong," said Doggie. + +"Oh, shucks! A month's exercise would make you as strong as a mule. +Here you are--what the blazes are you going to do with yourself?" + +"I don't admit that you have any right to question me," said Doggie, +lighting a cigarette. + +"Peggy has given it to me. We had a heart to heart talk this morning, +I assure you. She called me a swaggering, hectoring barbarian. So I +told her what I'd do. I said I'd come here and squeak like a little +mouse and eat out of your hand. I also said I'd take you out with me +to the Islands and give you a taste for fresh air and salt water and +exercise. I'll teach you how to sail a schooner and how to go about +barefoot and swab decks. It's a life for a man out there, I tell you. +If you've nothing better to do than living here snug like a flea on a +dog's back, until you get married, you'd better come." + +Doggie smiled pityingly, but said politely: + +"Your offer is very kind, Oliver; but I don't think that kind of life +would suit me." + +"Oh yes it would," said Oliver. "It would make you healthy, +wealthy--if you took a fancy to put some money into the pearl +fishery--and wise. I'd show you the world, make a man of you, for +Peggy's sake, and teach you how men talk to one another in a gale of +wind." + +The door opened and Peddle appeared. + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Oliver--but your man----" + +"Yes? What about him? Is he misbehaving himself? Kissing the maids?" + +"No, sir," said Peddle--"but none of them can get on with their work. +He has drunk two quart jugs of beer and wants a third." + +"Well, give it to him." + +"I shouldn't like to see the man intoxicated, sir," said Peddle. + +"You couldn't. No one has or ever will." + +"He is also standing on his head, sir, in the middle of the kitchen +table." + +"It's his great parlour-trick. You just try to do it, +Peddle--especially after two quarts of beer. He's showing his +gratitude, poor chap--just like the juggler of Notre-Dame in the +story. And I'm sure everybody's enjoying themselves?" + +"The maids are nearly in hysterics, sir." + +"But they're quite happy?" + +"Too happy, sir." + +"Lord!" cried Oliver, "what a lot of stuffy owls you are! What do you +want me to do? What would you like me to do, Doggie? It's your house." + +"I don't know," said Doggie. "I've had nothing to do with such people. +Perhaps you might go and speak to him." + +"No, I won't do that. I tell you what, Peddle," said Oliver brightly. +"You lure him out into the stable yard with a great hunk of pie--he +adores pie--and tell him to sit there and eat it till I come. Tell him +I said so." + +"I'll see what can be done, sir," said Peddle. + +"I don't mean to be inhospitable," said Doggie, after the butler had +gone, "but why do you take this extraordinary person about with you?" + +"I wanted him to see Durdlebury and Durdlebury to see him. Do it +good," replied Oliver. "Now, what about my proposition? Out there of +course you'll be my guest. Put yourself in charge of Chipmunk and me +for eight months, and you'll never regret it. What Chipmunk doesn't +know about ships and drink and hard living isn't knowledge. We'll let +you down easy--treat you kindly--word of honour." + +Doggie being a man of intelligence realized that Oliver's offer arose +from a genuine desire to do him some kind of service. But if a +friendly bull out of the fullness of its affection invited you to +accompany him to the meadow and eat grass, what could you do but +courteously decline the invitation? This is what Doggie did. After a +further attempt at persuasion, Oliver grew impatient, and picking up +his hat stuck it on the side of his head. He was a simple-natured, +impulsive man. Peggy's spirited attack had caused him to realize that +he had treated Doggie with unprovoked rudeness; but then, Doggie was +such a little worm. Suddenly the great scheme for Doggie's +regeneration had entered his head, and generously he had rushed to +begin to put it into execution. The pair were his blood relations +after all. He saw his way to doing them a good turn. Peggy, with all +her go--exemplified by the manner in which she had gone for him--was +worth the trouble he proposed to take with Doggie. It really was a +handsome offer. Most fellows would have jumped at the prospect of +being shown round the Islands with an old hand who knew the whole +thing backwards, from company promoting to beach-combing. He had not +expected such a point-blank, bland refusal. It made him angry. + +"I'm really most obliged to you, Oliver," said Doggie finally. "But +our ideals are so entirely different. You're primitive, you know. You +seem to find your happiness in defying the elements, whereas I find +mine in adopting the resources of civilization to circumvent them." + +He smiled, pleased with his little epigram. + +"Which means," said Oliver, "that you're afraid to roughen your hands +and spoil your complexion." + +"If you like to put it that way--symbolically." + +"Symbolically be hanged!" cried Oliver, losing his temper. "You're an +effeminate little rotter, and I'm through with you. Go on and wag your +tail and sit up and beg for biscuits----" + +"Stop!" shouted Doggie, white with sudden anger which shook him from +head to foot. He marched to the door, his green silk dressing-gown +flapping round his legs, and threw it wide open. "This is my house. +I'm sorry to have to ask you to get out of it." + +Oliver looked intently for a few seconds into the flaming little dark +eyes. Then he said gravely: + +"I'm a beast to have said that. I take it all back. Good-bye!" + +"Good day to you," said Doggie; and when the door was shut he went and +threw himself, shaken, on the couch, hating Oliver and all his works +more than ever. Go about barefoot and swab decks! It was Bedlam +madness. Besides being dangerous to health, it would be excruciating +discomfort. And to be insulted for not grasping at such martyrdom. It +was intolerable. + +Doggie stayed away from the Deanery all that day. On the morrow he +heard, to his relief, that Oliver had returned to London with the +unedifying Chipmunk. He took Peggy for a drive in the Rolls-Royce, and +told her of Oliver's high-handed methods. She sympathized. She said, +however: + +"Oliver's a rough diamond." + +"He's one of Nature's non-gentlemen," said Doggie. + +She laughed and patted his arm. "Clever lad!" she said. + +So Doggie's wounded vanity was healed. He confided to her some of his +difficulties as to the peacock and ivory room. + +"Bear with the old paper for my sake," she said. "It's something you +can do for me. In the meanwhile, you and I can put our heads together +and design a topping scheme of decoration. It's not too early to start +in right now, for it'll take months and months to get the house just +as we want." + +"You're the best girl in the world," said Doggie; "and the way you +understand me is simply wonderful." + +"Dear old thing," smiled Peggy; "you're no great conundrum." + +Happiness once more settled on Doggie Trevor. For the next two or +three days he and Peggy tackled the serious problem of the +reorganization of Denby Hall. Peggy had the large ideas of a limited +though acute brain, stimulated by social ambitions. When she became +mistress of Denby Hall, she intended to reverse the invisible boundary +that included it in Durdlebury and excluded it from the County. It was +to be County--of the fine inner Arcanum of County--and only Durdlebury +by the grace of Peggy Trevor. No "durdling," as Oliver called it, for +her. Denby Hall was going to be the very latest thing of September, +1915, when she proposed, the honeymoon concluded, to take smart and +startling possession. Lots of Mrs. Trevor's rotten old stuffy +furniture would have to go. Marmaduke would have to revolutionize his +habits. As she would have all kinds of jolly people down to stay, +additions must be made to the house. Within a week after her +engagement she had devised all the improvements. Marmaduke's room, +with a great bay thrown out, would be the drawing-room. The present +drawing-room, nucleus of a new wing, would be a dancing-room, with +parquet flooring; when not used for tangos and the fashionable negroid +dances, it would be called the morning-room; beyond that there would +be a billiard-room. Above this first floor there could easily be built +a series of guest chambers. As for Marmaduke's library, or study, or +den, any old room would do. There were a couple of bedrooms +overlooking the stable yard which thrown into one would do +beautifully. + +With feminine tact she dangled these splendours before Doggie's +infatuated eyes, instinctively choosing the opportunity of his +gratitude for soothing treatment. Doggie telegraphed for Sir Owen +Julius, R.A., Surveyor to the Cathedral, the only architect of his +acquaintance. The great man sent his partner, plain John Fox, who +undertook to prepare a design. + +Mr. Fox came down to Durdlebury on the 28th of July. There had been a +lot of silly talk in the newspapers about Austria and Serbia, to which +Doggie had given little heed. There was always trouble in the Balkan +States. Recently they had gone to war. It had left Doggie quite cold. +They were all "Merry Widow," irresponsible people. They dressed in +queer uniforms and picturesque costumes, and thought themselves +tremendously important, and were always squabbling among themselves +and would go on doing it till the day of Doom. Now there was more +fuss. He had read in the _Morning Post_ that Sir Edward Grey had +proposed a Conference of the Great Powers. Only sensible thing to do, +thought Doggie. He dismissed the trivial matter from his mind. On the +morning of the 29th he learned that Austria had declared war on +Serbia. Still, what did it matter? + +Doggie had held aloof from politics. He regarded them as somewhat +vulgar. Conservative by caste, he had once, when the opportunity was +almost forced on him, voted for the Conservative candidate of the +constituency. European politics on the grand scale did not arouse his +interest at all. England, save as the wise Mentor, had nothing to do +with them. Still, if Russia fought, France would have to join her +ally. It was not till he went to the Deanery that he began to +contemplate the possibility of a general European war. For the next +day or two he read his newspapers very carefully. + +On Saturday, the 1st of August, Oliver suddenly reappeared, proposing +to stay over the Bank Holiday. He brought news and rumours of war from +the great city. He had found money very tight, Capital with a big C +impossible to obtain. Every one told him to come back when the present +European cloud had blown over. In the opinion of the judicious, it +would not blow over. There was going to be war, and England could not +stay out of it. The Sunday morning papers confirmed all he said. +Germany had declared war on Russia. France was involved. Would Great +Britain come in, or for ever lose her honour? + +That warm beautiful Sunday afternoon they sat on the peaceful lawn +under the shadow of the great cathedral. Burford brought out the +tea-tray and Mrs. Conover poured out tea. Sir Archibald and Lady Bruce +and their daughter Dorothy were there. Doggie, impeccable in dark +purple. Nothing clouded the centuries-old serenity of the place. Yet +they asked the question that was asked on every quiet lawn, every +little scrap of shaded garden throughout the land that day: Would +England go to war? + +And if she came in, as come in she must, what would be the result? All +had premonitions of strange shifting of destinies. As it was yesterday +so it was to-day in that gracious shrine of immutability. But every +one knew in his heart that as it was to-day so would it not be +to-morrow. The very word "war" seemed as out of place as the +suggestion of Hell in Paradise. Yet the throb of the War Drum came +over the broad land of France and over the sea and half over England, +and its echo fell upon the Deanery garden, flung by the flying +buttresses and piers and towers of the grey cathedral. + + * * * * * + +On the morning of Wednesday, the 5th of August, it thundered all over +the Close. The ultimatum to Germany as to Belgium had expired the +night before. We were at war. + +"Thank God," said the Dean at breakfast, "we needn't cast down our +eyes and slink by when we meet a Frenchman." + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The first thing that brought the seriousness of the war home to Doggie +was a letter from John Fox. John Fox, a major in a Territorial +regiment, was mobilized. He regretted that he could not give his +personal attention to the proposed alterations at Denby Hall. Should +the plans be proceeded with in his absence from the office, or would +Mr. Trevor care to wait till the end of the war, which, from the +nature of things, could not last very long? Doggie trotted off to +Peggy. She was greatly annoyed. + +"What awful rot!" she cried. "Fox, a major of artillery! I'd just as +soon trust you with a gun. Why doesn't he stick to his architecture?" + +"He'd be shot or something if he refused to go," said Doggie. "But why +can't we turn it over to Sir Owen Julius?" + +"That old archaeological fossil?" + +Peggy, womanlike, forgot that they had approached him in the first +place. + +"He'd never begin to understand what we want. Fox hinted as much. Now +Fox is modern and up to date and sympathetic. If I can't have Fox, I +won't have Sir Owen. Why, he's older than Dad! He's decrepit. Can't we +get another architect?" + +"Do you think, dear," said Doggie, "that, in the circumstances, it +would be a nice thing to do?" + +She flashed a glance at him. She had woven no young girl's romantic +illusions around Marmaduke. Should necessity have arisen, she could +have furnished you with a merciless analysis of his character. But in +that analysis she would have frankly included a very fine sense of +honour. If he said a thing wasn't quite nice--well, it wasn't quite +nice. + +"I suppose it wouldn't," she admitted. "We shall have to wait. But +it's a rotten nuisance all the same." + +Hundreds of thousands of not very intelligent, but at the same time by +no means unpatriotic, people, like Peggy, at the beginning of the war +thought trivial disappointments rotten nuisances. We had all waxed too +fat during the opening years of the twentieth century, and, not having +a spiritual ideal in God's universe, we were in danger of perishing +from Fatty Degeneration of the Soul. As it was, it took a year or more +of war to cure us. + +It took Peggy quite a month to appreciate the meaning of the +mobilization of Major Fox, R.F.A. A brigade of Territorial artillery +flowed over Durdlebury, and the sacred and sleepy meadows became a +mass of guns and horse-lines and men in khaki, and waggons and dingy +canvas tents--and the old quiet streets were thick with unaccustomed +soldiery. The Dean called on the Colonel and officers, and soon the +house was full of eager young men holding the King's commission. +Doggie admired their patriotism, but disliked their whole-hearted +embodiment of the military spirit. They seemed to have no ideas beyond +their new trade. The way they clanked about in their great boots and +spurs got on his nerves. He dreaded also lest Peggy should be affected +by the meretricious attraction of a uniform. There were fine hefty +fellows among the visitors at the Deanery, on whom Peggy looked with +natural admiration. Doggie bitterly confided to Goliath that it was +the "glamour of brawn." It never entered his head during those early +days that all the brawn of all the manhood of the nation would be +needed. We had our well-organized Army and Navy, composed of +peculiarly constituted men whose duty it was to fight; just as we had +our well-organized National Church, also composed of peculiarly +constituted men whose duty it was to preach. He regarded himself as +remote from one as from the other. + +Oliver, who had made a sort of peace with Doggie and remained at the +Deanery, very quickly grew restless. + +One day, walking with Peggy and Marmaduke in the garden, he said: "I +wish I could get hold of that confounded fellow, Chipmunk!" + +Partly through deference to the good Dean's delicately hinted distaste +for that upsetter of decorous households, and partly to allow his +follower to attend to his own domestic affairs, he had left Chipmunk +in London. Fifteen years ago Chipmunk had parted from a wife somewhere +in the neighbourhood of the East India Docks. Both being illiterate, +neither had since communicated with the other. As he had left her +earning good money in a factory, his fifteen years' separation had +been relieved from anxiety as to her material welfare. A prudent, +although a beer-loving man, he had amassed considerable savings, and +it was the dual motive of sharing these with his wife and of +protecting his patron from the ever-lurking perils of London, that had +brought him across the seas. When Oliver had set him free in town, he +was going in quest of his wife. But as he had forgotten the name of +the street near the East India Docks where his wife lived, and the +name of the factory in which she worked, the successful issue of the +quest, in Oliver's opinion, seemed problematical. The simple Chipmunk, +however, was quite sanguine. He would run into her all right. As soon +as he had found her he would let the Captain know. Up to the present +he had not communicated with the Captain. He could give the Captain no +definite address, so the Captain could not communicate with him. +Chipmunk had disappeared into the unknown. + +"Isn't he quite capable of taking care of himself?" asked Peggy. + +"I'm not so sure," replied Oliver. "Besides, he's hanging me up. I'm +kind of responsible for him, and I've got sixty pounds of his money. +It's all I could do to persuade him not to stow the lot in his pocket, +so as to divide it with Mrs. Chipmunk as soon as he saw her. I must +find out what has become of the beggar before I move." + +"I suppose," said Doggie, "you're anxious now to get back to the South +Seas?" + +Oliver stared at him. "No, sonny, not till the war's over." + +"Why, you wouldn't be in any great danger out there, would you?" + +Oliver laughed. "You're the funniest duck that ever was, Doggie. I'll +never get to the end of you." And he strolled away. + +"What does he mean?" asked the bewildered Doggie. + +"I think," replied Peggy, smiling, "that he means he's going to +fight." + +"Oh," said Doggie. Then after a pause he added, "He's just the sort of +chap for a soldier, isn't he?" + +The next day Oliver's anxiety as to Chipmunk was relieved by the +appearance of the man himself, incredibly dirty and dusty and thirsty. +Having found no trace of his wife, and having been robbed of the money +he carried about him, he had tramped to Durdlebury, where he reported +himself to his master as if nothing out of the way had happened. + +"You silly blighter," said Oliver. "Suppose I had let you go with your +other sixty pounds, you would have been pretty well in the soup, +wouldn't you?" + +"Yes, Cap'en," said Chipmunk. + +"And you're not going on any blethering idiot wild-goose chases after +wives and such-like truck again, are you?" + +"No, Cap'en," said Chipmunk. + +This was in the stable-yard, after Chipmunk had shaken some of the +dust out of his hair and clothes and had eaten and drunk voraciously. +He was now sitting on an upturned bucket and smoking his clay pipe +with an air of solid content. Oliver, lean and supple, his hands in +his pockets, looked humorously down upon him. + +"And you've got to stick to me for the future, like a roseate leech." + +"Yes, Cap'en." + +"You're going to ride a horse." + +"A wot?" roared Chipmunk. + +"A thing on four legs, that kicks like hell." + +"Wotever for? I ain't never ridden no 'osses." + +"You're going to learn, you unmilitary-looking, worm-eaten scab. +You've got to be a ruddy soldier." + +"Gorblime!" said Chipmunk, "that's the first I 'eard of it. A 'oss +soldier? You're not kiddin', are you, Cap'en?" + +"Certainly not." + +"Gorblime! Who would ha' thought it?" Then he spat lustily and sucked +at his pipe. + +"You've nothing to say against it, have you?" + +"No, Cap'en." + +"All right. And look here, when we're in the army you must chuck +calling me Cap'en." + +"What shall I have to call yer? Gineral?" Chipmunk asked simply. + +"Mate, Bill, Joe--any old name." + +"Ker-ist!" said Chipmunk. + +"Do you know why we're going to enlist?" + +"Can't say as 'ow I does, Cap'en." + +"You chuckle-headed swab! Don't you know we're at war?" + +"I did 'ear some talk about it in a pub one night," Chipmunk admitted. +"'Oo are we fighting? Dutchmen or Dagoes?" + +"Dutchmen." + +Chipmunk spat in his horny hands, rubbed them together and smiled. As +each individual hair on his face seemed to enter into the smile, the +result was sinister. + +"Do you remember that Dutchman at Samoa, Cap'en?" + +Oliver smiled back. He remembered the hulking, truculent German +merchant whom Chipmunk, having half strangled, threw into the sea. He +also remembered the amount of accomplished lying he had to practise in +order to save Chipmunk from the clutches of the law and get away with +the schooner. + +"We leave here to-morrow," said Oliver. "In the meanwhile you'll have +to shave your ugly face." + +For the first time Chipmunk was really staggered. He gaped at Oliver's +retiring figure. Even his limited and time-worn vocabulary failed him. +The desperate meaning of the war has flashed suddenly on millions of +men in millions of different ways. This is the way in which it flashed +on Chipmunk. + +He sat on his bucket pondering over the awfulness of it and sucking +his pipe long after it had been smoked out. The Dean's car drove into +the yard and the chauffeur, stripping off his coat, prepared to clean +it down. + +"Say, guv'nor," said Chipmunk hoarsely, "what do you think of this +'ere war?" + +"Same as most people," replied the chauffeur tersely. He shared in the +general disapproval of Chipmunk. + +"But see 'ere. Cap'en he tells me I must shave me face and be a 'oss +soldier. I never shaved me face in me life, and I dunno 'ow to do it, +just as I dunno 'ow to ride a 'oss. I'm a sailorman, I am, and +sailormen don't shave their faces and ride 'osses. That's why I arsked +yer what yer thought of this 'ere war." + +The chauffeur struggled into his jeans and adjusted them before +replying. + +"If you're a sailor, the place for you is the navy," he remarked in a +superior manner. "As for the cavalry, the Cap'en, as you call him, +ought to have more sense----" + +Chipmunk rose and swung his long arms threateningly. + +"Look 'ere, young feller, do you want to have your blinkin' 'ead +knocked orf? Where the Cap'en goes, I goes, and don't you make any +mistake about it!" + +"I didn't say anything," the chauffeur expostulated. + +"Then don't say it. See? Keep your blinkin' 'ead shut and mind your +own business." + +And, scowling fiercely and thrusting his empty pipe into his trousers +pocket, Chipmunk rolled away. + +A few hours later Oliver, entering his room to dress for dinner, found +him standing in the light of the window laboriously fitting studs into +a shirt. The devoted fellow having gone to report to his master, had +found Burford engaged in his accustomed task of laying out his +master's evening clothes--Oliver during his stay in London had +provided himself with these necessaries. A jealous snarl had sent +Burford flying. So intent was he on his work, that he did not hear +Oliver enter. Oliver stood and watched him. Chipmunk was swearing +wholesomely under his breath. Oliver saw him take up the tail of the +shirt, spit on it and begin to rub something. + +"Ker-ist!" said Chipmunk. + +"What in the thundering blazes are you doing there?" cried Oliver. + +Chipmunk turned. + +"Oh, my God!" said Oliver. + +Then he sank on a chair and laughed and laughed, and the more he +looked at Chipmunk the more he laughed. And Chipmunk stood stolid, +holding the shirt of the awful, wet, thumb-marked front. But it was +not at the shirt that Oliver laughed. + +"Good God!" he cried, "were you born like that?" + +For Chipmunk, having gone to the barber's, was clean-shaven, and +revealed himself as one of the most comically ugly of the sons of men. + +"Never mind," said Oliver, after a while, "you've made the sacrifice +for your country." + +"And wot if I get the face-ache?" + +"I'd get something that looked like a face before I'd talk of it," +grinned Oliver. + +At the family dinner-table, Doggie being present, he announced his +intentions. It was the duty of every able-bodied man to fight for the +Empire. Had not half a million just been called for? We should want a +jolly sight more than that before we got through with it. Anyway, he +was off to-morrow. + +"To-morrow?" echoed the Dean. + +Burford, who was handing him potatoes, arched his eyebrows in alarm. +He was fond of Oliver. + +"With Chipmunk." + +Burford uttered an unheard sigh of relief. + +"We're going to enlist in King Edward's Horse. They're our kind. +Overseas men. Lots of 'em what you dear good people would call bad +eggs. There you make the mistake. Perhaps they mayn't be fresh enough +raw for a dainty palate--but for cooking, good hard cooking, by gosh! +nothing can touch 'em." + +"You talk of enlisting, dear," said Mrs. Conover. "Does that mean as a +private soldier?" + +"Yes--a trooper. Why not?" + +"You're a gentleman, dear. And gentlemen in the Army are officers." + +"Not now, my dear Sophia," said the Dean. "Gentlemen are crowding into +the ranks. They are setting a noble example." + +They argued it out in their gentle old-fashioned way. The Dean quoted +examples of sons of family who had served as privates in the South +African War. + +"And that to this," said he, "is but an eddy to a maelstrom." + +"Come and join us, James Marmaduke," said Oliver across the table. +"Chipmunk and me. Three 'sworn brothers to France.'" + +Doggie smiled easily. "I'm afraid I can't undertake to swear a +fraternal affection for Chipmunk. He and I would have neither habits +nor ideals in common." + +Oliver turned to Peggy. "I wish," said he, with rare restraint, "he +wouldn't talk like a book on deportment." + +"Marmaduke talks the language of civilization," laughed Peggy. "He's +not a savage like you." + +"Don't you jolly well wish he was!" said Oliver. + +Peggy flushed. "No, I don't!" she declared. + +The Dean being called away on business immediately after dinner, the +young men were left alone in the dining-room when the ladies had +departed. Oliver poured himself out a glass of port and filled his +pipe--an inelegant proceeding of which Doggie disapproved. A pipe +alone was barbaric, a pipe with old port was criminal. He held his +peace however. + +"James Marmaduke," said Oliver, after a while, "what are you going to +do?" Much as Marmaduke disliked the name of "Doggie," he winced under +the irony of the new appellation. + +"I don't see that I'm called upon to do anything," he replied. + +Oliver smoked and sipped his port. "I don't want to hurt your feelings +any more," said he gravely, "though sometimes I'd like to scrag you--I +suppose because you're so different from me. It was so when we were +children together. Now I've grown very fond of Peggy. Put on the right +track, she might turn into a very fine woman." + +"I don't think we need discuss Peggy, Oliver," said Marmaduke. + +"I do. She is sticking to you very loyally." Oliver was a bit of an +idealist. "The time may come when she'll be up the devil's own tree. +She'll develop a patriotic conscience. If she sticks to you while you +do nothing she'll be miserable. If she chucks you, as she probably +will, she'll be no happier. It's all up to you, James Doggie +Marmaduke, old son. You'll have to gird up your loins and take sword +and buckler and march away like the rest. I don't want Peggy to be +unhappy. I want her to marry a man. That's why I proposed to take you +out with me to Huaheine and try to make you one. But that's over. Now, +here's the real chance. Better take it sooner than later. You'll have +to be a soldier, Doggie." + +His pipe not drawing, he was preparing to dig it with the point of a +dessert-knife, when Doggie interposed hurriedly. + +"For goodness' sake, don't do that! It makes cold shivers run down my +back!" + +Oliver looked at him oddly, put the extinct pipe in his dinner-jacket +pocket and rose. + +"A flaw in the dainty and divine ordering of things makes you shiver +now, old Doggie. What will you do when you see a fellow digging out +another fellow's intestines with the point of a bayonet? A bigger flaw +there somehow!" + +"Don't talk like that. You make me sick," said Doggie. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +During the next few months there happened terrible and marvellous +things, which are all set down in the myriad chronicles of the time; +which shook the world and brought the unknown phenomenon of change +into the Close of Durdlebury. Folks of strange habit and speech walked +in it, and, gazing at the Gothic splendour of the place, saw through +the mist of autumn and the mist of tears not Durdlebury but Louvain. +More than one of those grey houses flanking the cathedral and sharing +with it the continuity of its venerable life, was a house of mourning; +not for loss in the inevitable and not unkindly way of human destiny +as understood and accepted with long disciplined resignation--but for +loss sudden, awful, devastating; for the gallant lad who had left it +but a few weeks before, with a smile on his lips, and a new and +dancing light of manhood in his eyes, now with those eyes unclosed and +glazed staring at the pitiless Flanders sky. Not one of those houses +but was linked with a battlefield. Beyond the memory of man the reader +of the Litany had droned the accustomed invocation on behalf of the +Sovereign and the Royal Family, the Bishops, Priests and Deacons, the +Lords of the Council and all prisoners and captives, and the +congregation had lumped them all together in their responses with an +undifferentiating convention of fervour. What had prisoners and +captives, any more than the Lords of the Council, to do with their +lives, their hearts, their personal emotions? But now--Durdlebury men +were known to be prisoners in German hands, and after "all prisoners +and captives" there was a long and pregnant silence, in which was felt +the reverberation of war against pier and vaulted arch and groined +roof of the cathedral, which was broken too, now and then, by the +stifled sob of a woman, before the choir came in with the response so +new and significant in its appeal--"We beseech thee to hear us, O +Lord!" + +And in every home the knitting-needles of women clicked, as they did +throughout the length and breadth of the land. And the young men left +shop and trade and counting-house. And young parsons fretted, and some +obtained the Bishop's permission to become Army chaplains, and others, +snapping their fingers (figuratively) under the Bishop's nose, threw +their cassocks to the nettles and put on the full (though in modern +times not very splendiferous) panoply of war. And in course of time +the brigade of artillery rolled away and new troops took their place; +and Marmaduke Trevor, Esquire, of Denby Hall, was called upon to +billet a couple of officers and twenty men. + +Doggie was both patriotic and polite. Having a fragment of the British +Army in his house, he did his best to make them comfortable. By +January he had no doubt that the Empire was in peril, that it was +every man's duty to do his bit. He welcomed the new-comers with open +arms, having unconsciously abandoned his attitude of superiority over +mere brawn. Doggie saw the necessity of brawn. The more the better. It +was every patriotic Englishman's duty to encourage brawn. If the two +officers had allowed him, he would have fed his billeted men every two +hours on prime beefsteaks and burgundy. He threw himself heart and +soul into the reorganization of his household. Officers and men found +themselves in clover. The officers had champagne every night for +dinner. They thought Doggie a capital fellow. + +"My dear chap," they would say, "you're spoiling us. I don't say we +don't like it and aren't grateful. We jolly well are. But we're +supposed to rough it--to lead the simple life--what? You're doing us +too well." + +"Impossible!" Doggie would reply, filling up the speaker's glass. +"Don't I know what we owe to you fellows? In what other way can a +helpless, delicate crock like myself show his gratitude and in some +sort of little way serve his country?" + +When the sympathetic and wine-filled guest would ask what was the +nature of his malady, he would tap his chest vaguely and reply: + +"Constitutional. I've never been able to do things like other fellows. +The least thing bowls me out." + +"Dam hard lines--especially just now." + +"Yes, isn't it?" Doggie would answer. And once he found himself +adding, "I'm fed up with doing nothing." + +Here can be noted a distinct stage in Doggie's development. He +realized the brutality of fact. When great German guns were yawning +open-mouthed at you, it was no use saying, "Take the nasty, horrid +things away, I don't like them." They wouldn't go unless you took +other big guns and fired at them. And more guns were required than +could be manned by the peculiarly constituted fellows who made up the +artillery of the original British Army. New fellows not at all +warlike, peaceful citizens who had never killed a cat in anger, were +being driven by patriotism and by conscience to man them. Against +Blood and Iron now supreme, the superior, aesthetic and artistic being +was of no avail. You might lament the fall in relative values of +collections of wall-papers and little china dogs, as much as you +liked; but you could not deny the fall; they had gone down with +something of an ignoble "wallop." Doggie began to set a high value on +guns and rifles and such-like deadly engines, and to inquire +petulantly why the Government were not providing them at greater +numbers and at greater speed. On his periodic visits to London he +wandered round by Trafalgar Square and Whitehall, to see for himself +how the recruiting was going on. At the Deanery he joined in ardent +discussions of the campaign in Flanders. On the walls of his peacock +and ivory room were maps stuck all over with little pins. When he told +the young officer that he was wearied of inaction, he spoke the truth. +He began to feel mightily aggrieved against Providence for keeping him +outside this tremendous national league of youth. He never questioned +his physical incapacity. It was as real a fact as the German guns. He +went about pitying himself and seeking pity. + +The months passed. The regiment moved away from Durdlebury, and Doggie +was left alone in Denby Hall. + +He felt solitary and restless. News came from Oliver that he had been +offered and had accepted an infantry commission, and that Chipmunk, +having none of the special qualities of a "'oss soldier," had, by +certain skilful wire-pullings, been transferred to his regiment, and +had once more become his devoted servant. "A month of this sort of +thing," he wrote, "would make our dear old Doggie sit up." Doggie +sighed. If only he had been blessed with Oliver's constitution! + +One morning Briggins, his chauffeur, announced that he could stick it +no longer and was going to join up. Then Doggie remembered a talk he +had had with one of the young officers who had expressed astonishment +at his not being able to drive a car. "I shouldn't have the nerve," he +had replied. "My nerves are all wrong--and I shouldn't have the +strength to change tyres and things."... If his chauffeur went, he +would find it very difficult to get another. Who would drive the +Rolls-Royce? + +"Why not learn to drive yourself, sir?" said Briggins. "Not the +Rolls-Royce. I would put it up or get rid of it, if I were you. If you +engage a second-rate man, as you'll have to, who isn't used to this +make of car, he'll do it in for you pretty quick. Get a smaller one in +its place and drive it yourself. I'll undertake to teach you enough +before I go." + +So Doggie, following Briggins' advice, took lessons and, to his +amazement, found that he did not die of nervous collapse when a dog +crossed the road in front of the car and that the fitting of +detachable wheels did not require the strength of a Hercules. The +first time he took Peggy out in the two-seater he swelled with pride. + +"I'm so glad to see you can do something!" she said. + +Although she was kind and as mildly affectionate as ever, he had +noticed of late a curious reserve in her manner. Conversation did not +flow easily. There seemed to be something at the back of her mind. She +had fits of abstraction from which, when rallied, she roused herself +with an effort. + +"It's the war," she would declare. "It's affecting everybody that +way." + +Gradually Doggie began to realize that she spoke truly. Most people of +his acquaintance, when he was by, seemed to be thus afflicted. The +lack of interest they manifested in his delicacy of constitution was +almost impolite. At last he received an anonymous letter, "For little +Doggie Trevor, from the girls of Durdlebury," enclosing a white +feather. + +The cruelty of it broke Doggie down. He sat in his peacock and ivory +room and nearly wept. Then he plucked up courage and went to Peggy. +She was rather white about the lips as she listened. + +"I'm sorry," she said, "but I expected something of the sort to +happen." + +"It's brutal and unjust." + +"Yes, it's brutal," she admitted coldly. + +"I thought you, at any rate, would sympathize with me," he cried. + +She turned on him. "And what about me? Who sympathizes with me? Do you +ever give a moment's thought to what I've had to go through the last +few months?" + +"I don't quite know what you mean," he stammered. + +"I should have thought it was obvious. You can't be such an innocent +babe as to suppose people don't talk about you. They don't talk to you +because they don't like to be rude. They send you white feathers +instead. But they talk to me. 'Why isn't Marmaduke in khaki?' 'Why +isn't Doggie fighting?' 'I wonder how you can allow him to slack about +like that!'--I've had a pretty rough time fighting your battles, I can +tell you, and I deserve some credit. I want sympathy just as much as +you do." + +"My dear," said Doggie, feeling very much humiliated, "I never knew. I +never thought. I do see now the unpleasant position you've been in. +People are brutes. But," he added eagerly, "you told them the real +reason?" + +"What's that?" she asked, looking at him with cold eyes. + +Then Doggie knew that the wide world was against him. "I'm not fit. +I've no constitution. I'm an impossibility." + +"You thought you had nerves until you learned to drive the car. Then +you discovered that you hadn't. You fancy you've a weak heart. Perhaps +if you learned to walk thirty miles a day you would discover you +hadn't that either. And so with the rest of it." + +"This is very painful," he said, going to the window and staring out. +"Very painful. You are of the same opinion as the young women who sent +me that abominable thing." + +She had been on the strain for a long while and something inside her +had snapped. At his woebegone attitude she relented however, and came +up and touched his shoulder. + +"A girl wants to feel some pride in the man she's going to marry. It's +horrible to have to be always defending him--especially when she's not +sure she's telling the truth in his defence." + +He swung round horrified. "Do you think I'm shamming, so as to get out +of serving in the Army?" + +"Not consciously. Unconsciously, I think you are. What does your +doctor say?" + +Doggie was taken aback. He had no doctor. He had not consulted one for +years, having no cause for medical advice. The old family physician +who had attended his mother in her last illness and had prescribed +Gregory powders for him as a child, had retired from Durdlebury long +ago. There was only one person living familiar with his constitution, +and that was himself. He made confession of the surprising fact. Peggy +made a little gesture. + +"That proves it. I don't believe you have anything wrong with you. The +nerves business made me sceptical. This is straight talking. It's +horrid, I know. But it's best to get through with it once and for +all." + +Some men would have taken deep offence and, consigning Peggy to the +devil, have walked out of the room. But Doggie, a conscientious, even +though a futile human being, was gnawed for the first time by the +suspicion that Peggy might possibly be right. He desired to act +honourably. + +"I'll do," said he, "whatever you think proper." + +Peggy was swift to smite the malleable iron. To use the conventional +phrase might give an incorrect impression of red-hot martial ardour on +the part of Doggie. + +"Good," she said, with the first smile of the day. "I'll hold you to +it. But it will be an honourable bargain. Get Dr. Murdoch to overhaul +you thoroughly, with a view to the Army. If he passes you, take a +commission. Dad says he can easily get you one through his old friend +General Gadsby at the War Office. If he doesn't, and you're unfit, +I'll stick to you through thick and thin, and make the young women of +Durdlebury wish they'd never been born." + +She put out her hand. Doggie took it. + +"Very well," said he, "I agree." + +She laughed, and ran to the door. + +"Where are you going?" + +"To the telephone--to ring up Dr. Murdoch for an appointment." + +"You're flabby," said Dr. Murdoch the next morning to an anxious +Doggie in pink pyjamas; "but that's merely a matter of unused muscles. +Physical training will set it right in no time. Otherwise, my dear +Trevor, you're in splendid health. I was afraid your family history +might be against you--the child of elderly parents, and so forth. But +nothing of the sort. Not only are you a first-class life for an +insurance company, but you're a first-class life for the Army--and +that's saying a good deal. There's not a flaw in your whole +constitution." + +He put away his stethoscope and smiled at Doggie, who regarded him +blankly as the pronouncer of a doom. He went on to prescribe a course +of physical exercises, so many miles a day walking, such and such +back-breaking and contortional performances in his bathroom; if +possible, a skilfully graduated career in a gymnasium, but his words +fell on the ears of a Doggie in a dream; and when he had ended, Doggie +said: + +"I'm afraid, Doctor, you'll have to write all that out for me." + +"With pleasure," smiled the doctor, and gripped him by the hand. And +seeing Doggie wince, he said heartily: "Ah! I'll soon set that right +for you. I'll get you something--an india-rubber contrivance to +practise with for half an hour a day, and you'll develop a hand like a +gorilla's." + +Dr. Murdoch grinned his way, in his little car, to his next patient. +Here was this young slacker, coddled from birth, absolutely +horse-strong and utterly confounded at being told so. He grinned and +chuckled so much that he nearly killed his most valuable old lady +patient, who was crossing the High Street. + +But Doggie crept out of bed and put on a violet dressing-gown that +clashed horribly with his pink pyjamas, and wandered like a man in a +nightmare to his breakfast. But he could not eat. He swallowed a cup +of coffee and sought refuge in his own room. He was frightened. +Horribly frightened, caught in a net from which there was no +escape--not the tiniest break of a mesh. He had given his word--and in +justice to Doggie, be it said that he held his word sacred--he had +given his word to join the Army if he should be passed by Murdoch. He +had been passed--more than passed. He would have to join. He would +have to fight. He would have to live in a muddy trench, sleep in mud, +eat in mud, plough through mud, in the midst of falling shells and +other instruments of death. And he would be an officer, with all kinds +of strange and vulgar men under him, men like Chipmunk, for instance, +whom he would never understand. He was almost physically sick with +apprehension. He realized that he had never commanded a man in his +life. He had been mortally afraid of Briggins, his late chauffeur. He +had heard that men at the front lived on some solid horror called +bully-beef dug out of tins, and some liquid horror called cocoa, also +drunk out of tins; that men kept on their clothes, even their boots, +for weeks at a time; that rats ran over them while they tried to +sleep; that lice, hitherto associated in his mind with the most +revolting type of tramp, out there made no distinction of persons. +They were the common lot of the lowest Tommy and the finest gentleman. +And then the fighting. The noise of the horrid guns. The disgusting +sights of men shattered to bloody bits. The horrible stench. The +terror of having one's face shot half away and being an object of +revolt and horror to all beholders for the rest of life. Death. +Feverishly he ruffled his comely hair. Death. He was surprised that +the contemplation of it did not freeze the blood in his veins. Yes. He +put it clearly before him. He had given his word to Peggy that he +would go and expose himself to Death. Death. What did it mean? He had +been brought up in orthodox Church of England Christianity. His +flaccid mind had never questioned the truth of its dogmas. He +believed, in a general sort of way, that good people went to Heaven +and bad people went to Hell. His conscience was clear. He had never +done any harm to anybody. As far as he knew, he had broken none of the +Ten Commandments. In a technical sense he was a miserable sinner, and +so proclaimed himself once a week. But though, perhaps, he had done +nothing in his life to merit eternal bliss in Paradise, yet, on the +other hand, he had committed no action which would justify a kindly +and just Creator in consigning him to the eternal flames of Hell. +Somehow the thought of Death did not worry him. It faded from his +mind, being far less terrible than life under prospective conditions. +Discomfort, hunger, thirst, cold, fatigue, pain; above all the terror +of his fellows--these were the soul-racking anticipations of this new +life into which it was a matter of honour for him to plunge. And to an +essential gentleman like Doggie a matter of honour was a matter of +life. And so, dressed in his pink pyjamas and violet dressing-gown, +amid the peacock-blue and ivory hangings of his boudoir room, and +stared at by the countless unsympathetic eyes of his little china +dogs, Doggie Trevor passed through his first Gethsemane. + + * * * * * + +His decision was greeted with joy at the Deanery. Peggy threw her arms +round his neck and gave him the very first real kiss he had ever +received. It revived him considerably. His Aunt Sophia also embraced +him. The Dean shook him warmly by the hand, and talked eloquent +patriotism. Doggie already felt a hero. He left the house in a glow, +but the drive home in the two-seater was cold and the pitch-dark night +presaged other nights of mercilessness in the future; and when Doggie +sat alone by his fire, sipping the hot milk which Peddle presented him +on a silver tray, the doubts and fears of the morning racked him +again. An ignoble possibility occurred to him. Murdoch might be wrong. +Murdoch might be prejudiced by local gossip. Would it not be better to +go up to London and obtain the opinion of a first-class man to whom he +was unknown? There was also another alternative. Flight. He might go +to America, and do nothing. To the South of France, and help in some +sort of way with hospitals for French wounded. He caught himself up +short as these thoughts passed through his mind, and he shuddered. He +took up the glass of hot milk and put it down again. Milk? He needed +something stronger. A glance in a mirror showed him his sleek hair +tousled into an upstanding wig. In a kind of horror of himself he went +to the dining-room and for the first time in his life drank a stiff +whisky and soda for the sake of the stimulant. Reaction came. He felt +a man once more. Rather suicide at once than such damnable dishonour. +According to the directions which the Dean, a man of affairs, had +given him, he sat down and wrote his application to the War Office for +a commission. Then--unique adventure!--he stole out of the barred and +bolted house, without thought of hat and overcoat (let the traducers +of alcohol mark it well), ran down the drive and posted the letter in +the box some few yards beyond his entrance gates. + +The Dean had already posted his letter to his old friend General +Gadsby at the War Office. + +So the die was cast. The Rubicon was crossed. The bridges were burnt. +The irrevocable step was taken. Dr. Murdoch turned up the next morning +with his prescription for physical training. And then Doggie trained +assiduously, monotonously, wearily. He grew appalled by the +senselessness of this apparently unnecessary exertion. Now and then +Peggy accompanied him on his prescribed walks; but the charm of her +company was discounted by the glaring superiority of her powers of +endurance. While he ached with fatigue, she pressed along as fresh as +Atalanta at the beginning of her race. When they parted by the Deanery +door, she would stand flushed, radiant in her youth and health, and +say: + +"We've had a topping walk, old dear. Now isn't it a glorious thing to +feel oneself alive?" + +But poor Doggie of the flabby muscles felt half dead. + + * * * * * + +The fateful letter burdening Doggie with the King's commission arrived +a few weeks later: a second lieutenancy in a Fusilier battalion of the +New Army. Dates and instructions were given. The impress of the Royal +Arms at the head of the paper, with its grotesque perky lion and +unicorn, conveyed to Doggie a sense of the grip of some uncanny power. +The typewritten words scarcely mattered. The impress fascinated him. +There was no getting away from it. Those two pawing beasts held him in +their clutch. They headed a Death Warrant, from which there was no +appeal. + +Doggie put his house in order, dismissed with bounty those of his +servants who would be no longer needed, and kept the Peddles, husband +and wife, to look after his interests. On his last night at home he +went wistfully through the familiar place, the drawing-room sacred to +his mother's memory, the dining-room so solid in its half-century of +comfort, his own peacock and ivory room so intensely himself, so +expressive of his every taste, every mood, every emotion. Those +strange old-world musical instruments--he could play them all with the +touch or breath of a master and a lover. The old Italian theorbo. He +took it up. How few to-day knew its melodious secret! He looked +around. All these daintinesses and prettinesses had a meaning. They +signified the magical little beauties of life--things which asserted a +range of spiritual truths, none the less real and consolatory because +vice and crime and ugliness and misery and war co-existed in ghastly +fact on other facets of the planet Earth. The sweetness here expressed +was as essential to the world's spiritual life as the sweet elements +of foodstuffs to its physical life. To the getting together of all +these articles of beauty he had devoted the years of his youth.... +And--another point of view--was he not the guardian by inheritance--in +other words, by Divine Providence--of this beautiful English home, the +trustee of English comfort, of the sacred traditions of sweet English +life that had made England the only country, the only country, he +thought, that could call itself a Country and not a Compromise, in the +world? + +And he was going to leave it all. All that it meant in beauty and +dignity and ease of life. For what? + +For horror and filthiness and ugliness, for everything against which +his beautiful peacock and ivory room protested. Doggie's last night at +Denby Hall was a troubled one. + +Aunt Sophia and Peggy accompanied him to London and stayed with him at +his stuffy little hotel off Bond Street, while Doggie got his kit +together. They bought everything in every West End shop that any +salesman assured them was essential for active service. Swords, +revolvers, field-glasses, pocket-knives (for gigantic pockets), +compasses, mess-tins, cooking-batteries, sleeping-bags, waterproofs, +boots innumerable, toilet accessories, drinking-cups, thermos flasks, +field stationery cases, periscopes, tinted glasses, Gieve waistcoats, +cholera belts, portable medicine cases, earplugs, tin-openers, +corkscrews, notebooks, pencils, luminous watches, electric torches, +pins, housewives, patent seat walking-sticks--everything that the man +of commercial instincts had devised for the prosecution of the war. + +The amount of warlike equipment with which Doggie, with the aid of his +Aunt Sophia and Peggy, encumbered the narrow little passages of +Sturrocks's Hotel, must have weighed about a ton. + +At last Doggie's uniforms--several suits--came home. He had devoted +enormous care to their fit. Attired in one he looked beautiful. Peggy +decreed a dinner at the Carlton. She and Doggie alone. Her mother +could get some stuffy old relation to spend the evening with her at +Sturrocks's. She wanted Doggie all to herself, so as to realize the +dream of many disgusting and humiliating months. And as she swept +through the palm court and up the broad stairs and wound through the +crowded tables of the restaurant with the khaki-clad Doggie by her +side, she felt proud and uplifted. Here was her soldier whom she had +made. Her very own man in khaki. + +"Dear old thing," she whispered, pressing his arm as they trekked to +their table. "Don't you feel glorious? Don't you feel as if you could +face the universe?" + +Peggy drank one glass of the quart of champagne. Doggie drank the +rest. + +On getting into bed he wondered why this unprecedented quantity of +wine had not affected his sobriety. Its only effect had been to stifle +thought. He went to bed and slept happily, for Peggy's parting kiss +had been such as would conduce to any young man's felicity. + +The next morning Aunt Sophia and Peggy saw him off to his depot, with +his ton of luggage. He leaned out of the carriage window and exchanged +hand kisses with Peggy until the curve of the line cut her off. Then +he settled down in his corner with the _Morning Post_. But he could +not concentrate his attention on the morning news. This strange +costume in which he was clothed seemed unreal, monstrous; no longer +the natty dress in which he had been proud to prink the night before, +but a nightmare, Nessus-like investiture, signifying some abominable +burning doom. + +The train swept him into a world that was upside down. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Those were proud days for Peggy. She went about Durdlebury with her +head in the air, and her step was as martial as though she herself +wore the King's uniform, and she regarded the other girls of the town +with a defiant eye. If only she could discover, she thought, the +sender of the abominable feather! In Timpany's drapery establishment +she raked the girls at the counter with a searching glance. At the +cathedral services she studied the demure faces of her contemporaries. +Now that Doggie was a soldier she held the anonymous exploit to be +cowardly and brutal. What did people know of the thousand and one +reasons that kept eligible young men out of the Army? What had they +known of Marmaduke? As soon as the illusion of his life had been +dispelled, he had marched away with as gallant a tread as anybody; and +though Doggie had kept to himself his shrinkings and his terrors, she +knew that what to the average hardily bred young man was a gay +adventure, was to him an ordeal of considerable difficulty. She longed +for his first leave, so that she could parade him before the town, in +the event of there being a lurking sceptic who still refused to +believe that he had joined the Army. + +Conspicuous in the drawing-room, framed in silver, stood a large +full-length photograph of Doggie in his new uniform. + +She wrote to him daily, chronicling the little doings of the town, at +times reviling it for its dullness. Dad, on numberless committees, was +scarcely ever in the house, except for hurried meals. Most of the +pleasant young clergy had gone. Many of the girls had gone too: +Dorothy Bruce to be a probationer in a V.A.D. hospital. If Durdlebury +were not such a rotten out-of-the-world place, the infirmary would be +full of wounded soldiers, and she could do her turn at nursing. As +things were, she could only knit socks for Tommies and a silk khaki +tie for her own boy. But when everybody was doing their bit, these +occupations were not enough to prevent her feeling a little slacker. +He would have to do the patriotic work for both of them, tell her all +about himself, and let her share everything with him in imagination. +She also expressed her affection for him in shy and slangy terms. + +Doggie wrote regularly. His letters were as shy and conveyed less +information. The work was hard, the hours long, his accommodation +Spartan. They were in huts on Salisbury Plain. Sometimes he confessed +himself too tired to write more than a few lines. He had a bad cold in +the head. He was better. They had inoculated him against typhoid and +had allowed him two or three slack days. The first time he had +unaccountably fainted; but he had seen some of the men do the same, +and the doctor had assured him that it had nothing to do with +cowardice. He had gone for a route march and had returned a dusty lump +of fatigue. But after having shaken the dust out of his +moustache--Doggie had a playful turn of phrase now and then--and drunk +a quart of shandy-gaff, he had felt refreshed. Then it rained hard, +and they were all but washed out of the huts. It was a very strange +life--one which he never dreamed could have existed. "Fancy me," he +wrote, "glad to sleep on a drenched bed!" There was the riding-school. +Why hadn't he learned to ride as a boy? He had been told that the +horse was a noble animal and the friend of man. He was afraid he would +return to his dear Peggy with many of his young illusions shattered. +The horse was the most ignoble, malevolent beast that ever walked, +except the sergeant-major in the riding-school. Peggy was filled with +admiration for his philosophic endurance of hardships. It was real +courage. His letters contained simple statements of fact, but not a +word of complaint. On the other hand, they were not ebullient with +joy; but then, Peggy reflected, there was not much to be joyous about +in a ramshackle hut on Salisbury Plain. "Dear old thing," she would +write, "although you don't grouse, I know you must be having a pretty +thin time. But you're bucking up splendidly, and when you get your +leave I'll do a girl's very d----dest (don't be shocked; but I'm sure +you're learning far worse language in the Army) to make it up to you." +Her heart was very full of him. + +Then there came a time when his letters grew rarer and shorter. At +last they ceased altogether. After a week's waiting she sent an +anxious telegram. The answer came back. "Quite well. Will write soon." +She waited. He did not write. One evening an unstamped envelope, +addressed to her in a feminine hand, which she recognized as that of +Marmaduke's anonymous correspondent, was found in the Deanery +letter-box. The envelope enclosed a copy of a cutting from the +"Gazette" of the morning paper, and a sentence was underlined and +adorned with exclamation marks at the sides. + + "R. Fusiliers. Tempy. 2nd Lieutenant J. Trevor resigns his + commission." + +The Colonel dealt with him as gently as he could in that final +interview. He put his hand in a fatherly way on Doggie's shoulder and +bade him not take it too much to heart. He had done his best; but he +was not cut out for an officer. These were merciless times. In matters +of life and death we could not afford weak links in the chain. +Soldiers in high command, with great reputations, had already been +scrapped. In Doggie's case there was no personal discredit. He had +always conducted himself like a gentleman and a man of honour, but he +had not the qualities necessary for the commanding of men. He must +send in his resignation. + +"But what can I do, sir?" asked Doggie in a choking voice. "I am +disgraced for ever." + +The Colonel reflected for a moment. He knew that Doggie's life had +been a little hell on earth from the first day he had joined. He was +very sorry for the poor little toy Pom in his pack of hounds. It was +scarcely the toy Pom's fault that he had failed. But the Great Hunt +could have no use for toy Poms. At last he took a sheet of regimental +notepaper and wrote: + + "DEAR TREVOR,-- + + "I am full of admiration for the plucky way in which you have + striven to overcome your physical disabilities, and I am only + too sorry that they should have compelled the resignation of + your commission and your severance from the regiment. + + "Yours sincerely, + "L. G. CAIRD, + "Lt-Col." + +He handed it to Doggie. + +"That's all I can do for you, my poor boy," said he. + +"Thank you, sir," said Doggie. + + * * * * * + +Doggie took a room at the Savoy Hotel, and sat there most of the day, +the pulp of a man. He had gone to the Savoy, not daring to show his +face at the familiar Sturrocks's. At the Savoy he was but a number +unknown, unquestioned. He wore civilian clothes. Such of his uniforms +and martial paraphernalia as he had been allowed to retain in +camp--for one can't house a ton of kit in a hut--he had given to his +batman. His one desire now was to escape from the eyes of his +fellow-men. He felt that he bore upon him the stigma of his disgrace, +obvious to any casual glance. He was the man who had been turned out +of the army as a hopeless incompetent. Even worse than the +slacker--for the slacker might have latent the qualities that he +lacked. Even at the best and brightest, he could only be mistaken for +a slacker, once more the likely recipient of white feathers from any +damsel patriotically indiscreet. The Colonel's letter brought him +little consolation. It is true that he carried it about with him in +his pocket-book; but the gibing eyes of observers had not the X-ray +power to read it there. And he could not pin it on his hat. Besides, +he knew that the kindly Colonel had stretched a point of veracity. No +longer could he take refuge in his cherished delicacy of constitution. +It would be a lie. + +Peggy, in her softest and most pitying mood, never guessed the nature +of Doggie's ordeal. Those letters so brave, sometimes so playful, had +been written with shaky hand, misty eyes, throbbing head, despairing +heart. Looking back, it seemed to him one blurred dream of pain. His +brother officers were no worse than those in any other Kitchener +regiment. Indeed, the Colonel was immensely proud of them and sang +their praises to any fellow-dugout who would listen to him at the +Naval and Military Club. But how were a crowd of young men, trained in +the rough and tumble of public schools, universities and sport, and +now throbbing under the stress of the new deadly game, to understand +poor Doggie Trevor? They had no time to take him seriously, save to +curse him when he did wrong, and in their leisure time he became +naturally a butt for their amusement. + +"Surely I don't have to sleep in there?" he asked the subaltern who +was taking him round on the day of his arrival in camp, and showed him +his squalid little cubby-hole of a hut with its dirty boards, its +cheap table and chair, its narrow sleep-dispelling little bedstead. + +"Yes, it's a beastly hole, isn't it? Until last month we were under +canvas." + +"Sleeping on the bare ground?" + +"Wallowing in the mud like pigs. Not one of us without a cold. Never +had a such filthy time in my life." + +Doggie looked about him helplessly, while the comforter smiled grimly. +Already his disconsolate attitude towards the dingy hutments of the +camp and the layer of thick mud on his beautiful new boots had +diverted his companion. + +"Couldn't I have this furnished at my own expense? A carpet and a +proper bed, and a few pictures----" + +"I wouldn't try." + +"Why not?" + +"Some of it might get broken--not quite accidentally." + +"But surely," gasped Doggie, "the soldiers would not be allowed to +come in here and touch my furniture?" + +"It seems," said the subaltern, after a bewildered stare, "that you +have quite a lot to learn." + +Doggie had. The subaltern reported a new kind of animal to the mess. +The mess saw to it that Doggie should be crammed with information--but +information wholly incorrect and misleading, which added to his many +difficulties. When his ton of kit arrived he held an unwilling +reception in the hut and found himself obliged to explain to gravely +curious men the use for which the various articles were designed. + +"This, I suppose, is a new type of gas-mask?" + +No. It was a patent cooker. Doggie politely showed how it worked. He +also demonstrated that a sleeping-bag was not a kit-sack of a size +unauthorized by the regulations, and that a huge steel-pointed +walking-stick had nothing to do with agriculture. + +He was very weary of his visitors by the time they had gone. The next +day the Adjutant advised him to scrap the lot. So sorrowfully he sent +back most of his purchases to London. + +Then the Imp of Mischance brought as a visitor to the mess, a +subaltern from another regiment who belonged to Doggie's part of the +country. + +"Why--I'm blowed if it isn't Doggie Trevor!" he exclaimed carelessly. +"How d'ye do, Doggie?" + +So thenceforward he was known in the regiment by the hated name. + +There were rags in which, as he was often the victim, he was forced to +join. His fastidiousness loathed the coarse personal contact of arms +and legs and bodies. His undeveloped strength could not cope with the +muscle of his young brother barbarians. Aching with the day's fatigue, +he would plead, to no avail, to be left alone. Compared with these +feared and detested scraps, he considered, in after-times, battles to +be agreeable recreations. + +Had he been otherwise competent, he might have won through the teasing +and the ragging of the mess. No one disliked him. He was +pleasant-mannered, good-natured, and appeared to bear no malice. True, +his ignorance not only of the ways of the army but of the ways of +their old hearty world, was colossal, his mode of expression rather +that of a precise old church dignitary than of a subaltern in a +regiment of Fusiliers, his habits, including a nervous shrinking from +untidiness and dirt, those of a dear old maid; but the mess thought, +honestly, that he could be knocked into their own social shape, and in +the process of knocking carried out their own traditions. They might +have succeeded if Doggie had discovered any reserve source of pride +from which to draw. But Doggie was hopeless at his work. The mechanism +of a rifle filled him with dismay. He could not help shutting his eyes +before he pulled the trigger. Inured all his life to lethargic action, +he found the smart crisp movements of drill almost impossible to +attain. The riding-school was a terror and a torture. Every second he +deemed himself in imminent peril of death. Said the sergeant-major: + +"Now, Mr. Trevor, you're sitting on a 'orse and not a 'olly-bush." + +And Doggie would wish the horse and the sergeant-major in hell. + +Again, what notion could poor Doggie have of command? He had never +raised his mild tenor voice to damn anybody in his life. At first the +tone in which the officers ordered the men about shocked him. So +rough, so unmannerly, so unkind. He could not understand the cheery +lack of resentment with which the men obeyed. He could not get into +the way of military directness, could never check the polite "Do you +mind" that came instinctively to his lips. Now if you ask a private +soldier whether he minds doing a thing instead of telling him to do +it, his brain begins to get confused. As one defaulter, whose +confusion of brain had led him into trouble, observed to his mates: +"What can you do with a blighter who's a cross between a blinking +Archbishop and a ruddy dicky-bird?" What else, save show in divers and +ingenious ways that you mocked at his authority? Doggie had the +nervous dread of the men that he had anticipated. During his training +on parade, words of command stuck in his throat. When forced out, they +grotesquely mixed themselves together. + +The Adjutant gave advice. + +"Speak out, man. Bawl. You're dealing with soldiers at drill, not +saying sweet nothings to old ladies in a drawing-room." + +And Doggie tried. Doggie tried very hard. He was mortified by his own +stupidity. Little points of drill and duty that the others of his own +standing seemed to pick up at once, almost by instinct, he could only +grasp after long and tedious toil. No one realized that his brain was +stupefied by the awful and unaccustomed physical fatigue. + +And then came the inevitable end. + + * * * * * + +So Doggie crept into the Savoy Hotel and hid himself there, wishing he +were dead. It was some time before he could write the terrible letter +to Peggy. He did so on the day when he saw that his resignation was +gazetted. He wrote after many anguished attempts: + + "DEAR PEGGY,-- + + "I haven't written before about the dreadful thing that has + happened, because I simply couldn't. I have resigned my + commission. Not of my own free will, for, believe me, I would + have gone through anything for your sake, to say nothing of the + country and my own self-respect. To put it brutally, I have been + thrown out for sheer incompetence. + + "I neither hope nor expect nor want you to continue your + engagement to a disgraced man. I release you from every + obligation your pity and generosity may think binding. I want + you to forget me and marry a man who can do the work of this new + world. + + "What I shall do I don't know. I have scarcely yet been able to + think. Possibly I shall go abroad. At any rate I shan't return + to Durdlebury. If women sent me white feathers before I joined, + what would they send me now? It will always be my consolation to + know that you once gave me your love, in spite of the pain of + realizing that I have forfeited it by my unworthiness. + + "Please tell Uncle Edward that I feel keenly his position, for + he was responsible for getting me the commission through General + Gadsby. Give my love to my Aunt, if she will have it. + + "Yours always affectionately, + J. MARMADUKE TREVOR." + +By return of post came the answer: + + "DEAREST,-- + + "We are all desperately disappointed. Perhaps we hurried on + things too quickly and tried you too high all at once. I ought + to have known. Oh, my poor dear boy, you must have had a + dreadful time. Why didn't you tell me? The news in the 'Gazette' + came upon me like a thunderbolt. I didn't know what to think. + I'm afraid I thought the worst, the very horrid worst--that you + had got tired of it and resigned of your own accord. How was one + to know? Your letter was almost a relief. + + "In offering to release me from my engagement you are acting + like the honourable gentleman you are. Of course, I can + understand your feelings. But I should be a little beast to + accept right away like that. If there are any feathers about, I + should deserve to have them stuck on to me with tar. Don't think + of going abroad or doing anything foolish, dear, like that, till + you have seen me--that is to say, us, for Dad is bringing Mother + and me up to town by the first train to-morrow. Dad feels sure + that everything is not lost. He'll dig out General Gadsby and + fix up something for you. In the meantime, get us rooms at the + Savoy, though Mother is worried as to whether it's a respectable + place for Deans to stay at. But I know you wouldn't like to meet + us at Sturrocks's--otherwise you would have been there yourself. + Meet our train. All love from + + "PEGGY." + +Doggie engaged the rooms, but he did not meet the train. He did not +even stay in the hotel to meet his relations. He could not meet them. +He could not meet the pity in their eyes. He read in Peggy's note a +desire to pet and soothe him and call him "Poor little Doggie," and he +writhed. He could not even take up an heroic attitude, and say to +Peggy: "When I have retrieved the past and can bring you an unsullied +reputation, I will return and claim you. Till then farewell." There +was no retrieving the past. Other men might fail at first, and then +make good; but he was not like them. His was the fall of Humpty +Dumpty. Final--irretrievable. + +He packed up his things in a fright and, leaving no address at the +Savoy, drove to the Russell Hotel in Bloomsbury. But he wrote Peggy a +letter "to await arrival." If time had permitted he would have sent a +telegram, stating that he was off for Tobolsk or Tierra del Fuego, and +thereby prevented their useless journey; but they had already started +when he received Peggy's message. + +Nothing could be done, he wrote, in effect, to her, nothing in the way +of redemption. He would not put her father to the risk of any other +such humiliation. He had learned, by the most bitter experience, that +the men who counted now in the world's respect and in woman's love +were men of a type to which, with all the goodwill in the world, he +could not make himself belong--he did not say to which he wished he +could belong with all the agony and yearning of his soul. Peggy must +forget him. The only thing he could do was to act up to her generous +estimate of him as an honourable gentleman. As such it was his duty to +withdraw for ever from her life. His exact words, however, were: "You +know how I have always hated slang, how it has jarred upon me, often +to your amusement, when you have used it. But I have learned in the +past months how expressive it may be. Through slang I've learned what +I am. I am a born 'rotter.' A girl like you can't possibly love and +marry a rotter. So the rotter, having a lingering sense of decency, +makes his bow and exits--God knows where." + +Peggy, red-eyed, adrift, rudderless on a frightening sea, called her +father into her bedroom at the Savoy and showed him the letter. He +drew out and adjusted his round tortoise-shell-rimmed reading-glasses +and read it. + +"That's a miraculously new Doggie," said he. + +Peggy clutched the edges of his coat. + +"I've never heard you call him that before." + +"It has never been worth while," said the Dean. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +At the Savoy, during the first stupefaction of his misery, Doggie had +not noticed particularly the prevalence of khaki. At the Russell it +dwelt insistent, like the mud on Salisbury Plain. Men that might have +been the twin brethren of his late brother officers were everywhere, +free, careless, efficient. The sight of them added the gnaw of envy to +his heartache. Even in his bedroom he could hear the jingle of their +spurs and their cheery voices as they clanked along the corridor. On +the third day after his migration he took a bold step and moved into +lodgings in Woburn Place. Here at least he could find quiet, +untroubled by heart-rending sights and sounds. He spent most of his +time in dull reading and dispirited walking. For he could walk now--so +much had his training done for him--and walk for many miles without +fatigue. For all the enjoyment he got out of it, he might as well have +marched round a prison yard. Indeed there were some who tramped the +prison yards with keener zest. They were buoyed up with the hope of +freedom, they could look forward to the ever-approaching day when they +should be thrown once more into the glad whirl of life. But the +miraculously new Doggie had no hope. He felt for ever imprisoned in +his shame. His failure preyed on his mind. + +He dallied with thoughts of suicide. Why hadn't he salved, at any +rate, his service revolver? Then he remembered the ugly habits of the +unmanageable thing--how it always kicked its muzzle up in the air. +Would he have been able even to shoot himself with it? And he smiled +in self-derision. Drowning was not so difficult. Any fool could throw +himself into the water. With a view to the inspection of a suitable +spot, Doggie wandered, idly, in the dusk of one evening, to Waterloo +Bridge, and turning his back to the ceaseless traffic, leaned his +elbows on the parapet and stared in front of him. A few lights already +gleamed from Somerset House and the more dimly seen buildings of the +Temple. The dome of St. Paul's loomed a dark shadow through the mist. +The river stretched below very peaceful, very inviting. The parapet +would be easy to climb. He did not know whether he could dive in the +approved manner--hands joined over head. He had never learned to swim, +let alone dive. At any rate, he could fall off. In that art the +riding-school had proved him a past master. But the spot had its +disadvantages. It was too public. Perhaps other bridges might afford +more privacy. He would inspect them all. It would be something to do. +There was no hurry. As he was not wanted in this world, so he had no +assurance of being welcome in the next. He had a morbid vision of +avatar after avatar being kicked from sphere to sphere. + +At this point of his reflections he became aware of a presence by his +side. He turned his head and found a soldier, an ordinary private, +very close to him, also leaning on the parapet. + +"I thought I wasn't mistaken in Mr. Marmaduke Trevor." + +Doggie started away, on the point of flight, dreading the possible +insolence of one of the men of his late regiment. But the voice of the +speaker rang in his ears with a strange familiarity, and the great +fleshy nose, the high cheek-bones, and the little grey eyes in the +weather-beaten face suggested vaguely some one of the long ago. His +dawning recognition amused the soldier. + +"Yes, laddie. Ye're right. It's your old Phineas--Phineas McPhail, +Esq., M.A., defunct. Now 33702 Private P. McPhail redivivus." + +He warmly wrung the hand of the semi-bewildered Doggie, who murmured: +"Very glad to meet you, I'm sure." + +Phineas, gaunt and bony, took his arm. + +"Would it not just be possible," he said, in his old half-pedantic, +half-ironic intonation, "to find a locality less exposed to the roar +of traffic and the rude jostling of pedestrians and the inclemency of +the elements, in which we can enjoy the amenities of a little refined +conversation?" + +It was like a breath from the past. Doggie smiled. + +"Which way are you going?" + +"Your way, my dear Marmaduke, was ever mine, until I was swept, I +thought for ever, out of your path by a torrential spate of whisky." + +He laughed, as though it had been a playful freak of destiny. Doggie +laughed, too. But for the words he had addressed to hotel and +lodging-house folk, he had spoken to no one for over a fortnight. The +instinctive craving for companionship made Phineas suddenly welcome. + +"Yes. Let us have a talk," said he. "Come to my rooms, if you have the +time. There'll be some dinner." + +"Will I come? Will I have dinner? Will I re-enter once more the +paradise of the affluent? Laddie, I will." + +In the Strand they hailed a taxi and drove to Bloomsbury. On the way +Phineas asked: + +"You mentioned your rooms. Are you residing permanently in London?" + +"Yes," said Doggie. + +"And Durdlebury?" + +"I'm not going back." + +"London's a place full of temptations for those without experience," +Phineas observed sagely. + +"I've not noticed any," Doggie replied. On which Phineas laughed and +slapped him on the knee. + +"Man," said he, "when I first saw you I thought you had changed into a +disillusioned misanthropist. But I'm wrong. You haven't changed a +bit." + +A few minutes later they reached Woburn Place. Doggie showed him into +the sitting-room on the drawing-room floor. A fire was burning in the +grate, for though it was only early autumn, the evening was cold. The +table was set for Doggie's dinner. Phineas looked round him in +surprise. The heterogeneous and tasteless furniture, the dreadful +Mid-Victorian prints on the walls--one was the "Return of the Guards +from the Crimea," representing the landing from the troop-ship, +repellent in its smug unreality, the coarse glass and well-used plate +on the table, the crumpled napkin in a ring (for Marmaduke who in his +mother's house had never been taught to dream that a napkin could +possibly be used for two consecutive meals!), the general air of +slipshod Philistinism--all came as a shock to Phineas, who had +expected to find in Marmaduke's "rooms" a replica of the fastidious +prettiness of the peacock and ivory room at Denby Hall. He scratched +his head, covered with a thick brown thatch. + +"Laddie," said he gravely, "you must excuse me if I take a liberty; +but I canna fit you into this environment." + +Doggie looked about him also. "Seems funny, doesn't it?" + +"It cannot be that you've come down in the world?" + +"To bed-rock," said Doggie. + +"No?" said Phineas, with an air of concern. "Man, I'm awful sorry. I +know what the coming down feels like. And I, finding it not abhorrent +to a sophisticated and well-trained conscience, and thinking you could +well afford it, extracted a thousand pounds from your fortune. My dear +lad, if Phineas McPhail could return the money----" + +Doggie broke in with a laugh. "Pray don't distress yourself, Phineas. +It's not a question of money. I've as much as ever I had. The last +thing in the world I've had to think of has been money." + +"Then what in the holy names of Thunder and Beauty," cried Phineas, +throwing out one hand to an ancient saddle-bag sofa whose ends were +covered by flimsy rags, and the other to the decayed ormolu clock on +the mantelpiece, "what in the name of common sense are you doing in +this awful inelegant lodging-house?" + +"I don't know," replied Doggie. "It's a fact," he continued after a +pause. "The scheme of decoration is revolting to every aesthetic sense +which I've spent my life in cultivating. Its futile pretentiousness is +the rasping irritation of every hour. Yet here I am. Quite +comfortable. And here I propose to stay." + +Phineas McPhail, M.A., late of Glasgow and Cambridge, looked at Doggie +with his keen little grey eyes beneath bent and bristling eyebrows. In +the language of 33702 Private McPhail, he asked: + +"What the blazes is it all about?" + +"That's a long story," said Doggie, looking at his watch. "In the +meantime, I had better give some orders about dinner. And you would +like to wash." + +He threw open a wing of the folding-doors, once in Georgian times +separating drawing-room from withdrawing-room, and now separating +living-room from bedroom, and switching on the light, invited McPhail +to follow. + +"I think you'll find everything you want," said he. + +Phineas McPhail, left alone to his ablutions, again looked round, and +he had more reason than ever to ask what it was all about. Marmaduke's +bedroom at Denby Hall had been a dream of satinwood and dull blue +silk. The furniture and hangings had been Mrs. Trevor's present to +Marmaduke on his sixteenth birthday. He remembered how he had been +bored to death by that stupendous ass of an old woman--for so he had +characterized her--during the process of selection and installation. +The present room, although far more luxurious than any that Phineas +McPhail had slept in for years, formed a striking contrast with that +remembered nest of effeminacy. + +"I'll have to give it up," he said to himself. But just as he had put +the finishing touches to his hair an idea occurred to him. He flung +open the door. + +"Laddie, I've got it. It's a woman." + +But Doggie laughed and shook his head, and leaving McPhail, took his +turn in the bedroom. For the first time since his return to civil life +he ceased for a few moments to brood over his troubles. McPhail's +mystification amused him. McPhail's personality and address, viewed in +the light of the past, were full of interest. Obviously he was a man +who lived unashamed on low levels. Doggie wondered how he could have +regarded him for years with a respect almost amounting to veneration. +In a curious unformulated way Doggie felt that he had authority over +this man so much older than himself, who had once been his master. It +tickled into some kind of life his deadened self-esteem. Here at last +was a man with whom he could converse on sure ground. The khaki +uniform caused him no envy. + +"The poet is not altogether incorrect," said McPhail, when they sat +down to dinner, "in pointing out the sweet uses of adversity. If it +had not been for the adversity of a wee bit operation, I should not +now be on sick furlough. And if I had not been on furlough I shouldn't +have the pleasure of this agreeable reconciliation. Here's to you, +laddie, and to our lasting friendship." He sipped his claret. "It's +not like the Lafitte in the old cellar--_Eheu fugaces anni et_--what +the plague is the Latin for vintages? But 'twill serve." He drank +again and smacked his lips. "It will even serve very satisfactorily. +Good wine at a perfect temperature is not the daily drink of the +British soldier." + +"By the way," said Doggie, "you haven't told me why you became a +soldier." + +"A series of vicissitudes dating from the hour I left your house," +said Phineas, "vicissitudes the recital of which would wring your +heart, laddie, and make angels weep if their lachrymal glands were not +too busily engaged by the horrors of war, culminated four months ago +in an attack of fervid and penniless patriotism. No one seemed to want +me except my country. She clamoured for me on every hoarding and every +omnibus. A recruiting-sergeant in Trafalgar Square tapped me on the +arm, and said: 'Young man, your country wants you.' Said I with my +Scottish caution, 'Can you take your affidavit that you got the +information straight from the War Office?' 'I can,' said he. Then I +threw myself on his bosom and bade him take me to her. That's how I +became 33702 Private Phineas McPhail, A Company, 10th Wessex Rangers, +at the remuneration of one shilling and twopence per diem." + +"Do you like it?" asked Doggie. + +Phineas rubbed the side of his thick nose thoughtfully. + +"There you come to the metaphysical conception of human happiness," he +replied. "In itself it is a vile life. To a man of thirty-five----" + +"Good lord!" cried Doggie, "I always thought you were about fifty!" + +"Your mother caught me young, laddie. To a man of thirty-five, a +graduate of ancient and honourable universities and a whilom candidate +for holy orders, it is a life that would seem to have no attraction +whatever. The hours are absurd, the work distasteful, and the mode of +living repulsive. But strange to say, it fully contents me. The secret +of happiness lies in the supple adaptability to conditions. When I +found that it was necessary to perform ridiculous antics with my legs +and arms, I entered into the comicality of the idea and performed them +with an indulgent zest which soon won me the precious encomiums of my +superiors in rank. When I found that the language of the canteen was +not that of the pulpit or the drawing-room, I quickly acquired the new +vocabulary and won the pleasant esteem of my equals. By means of this +faculty of adaptability I can suck enjoyment out of everything. But, +at the same time, mind you, keeping in reserve a little secret fount +of pleasure." + +"What do you call a little secret fount of pleasure?" asked Doggie. + +"I'll give you an illustration--and, if you're the man I consider you +to be, you'll take a humorous view of my frankness. At present I adapt +myself to a rough atmosphere of coarseness and lustiness, in which +nothing coarse or lusty I could do would produce the slightest ripple +of a convulsion: but I have my store of a cultivated mind and cheap +editions of the classics, my little secret fount of Castaly to drink +from whenever I so please. On the other hand, when I had the honour of +being responsible for your education, I adapted myself to a hot-house +atmosphere in which Respectability and the concomitant virtues of +Supineness and Sloth were cultivated like rare orchids; but in my +bedroom I kept a secret fount which had its source in some good Scots +distillery." + +Whereupon he attacked his plateful of chicken with vehement gusto. + +"You're a hedonist, Phineas," said Doggie, after a thoughtful pause. + +"Man," said Phineas, laying down his knife and fork, "you've just hit +it. I am. I'm an accomplished hedonist. An early recognition of the +fact saved me from the Church." + +"And the Church from you," said Doggie quietly. + +Phineas shot a swift glance at him beneath his shaggy brown eyebrows. + +"Ay," said he. "Though, mark you, if I had followed my original +vocation, the Bench of Bishops could not have surpassed me in the +unction in which I would have wallowed. If I had been born a bee in a +desert, laddie, I would have sucked honey out of a dead camel." + +With easy and picturesque cynicism, and in a Glasgow accent which had +curiously broadened since his spell of Oriental ease at Denby Hall, he +developed his philosophy, illustrating it by incidents more or less +reputable in his later career. At first, possessor of the ill-gotten +thousand pounds and of considerable savings from a substantial salary, +he had enjoyed the short wild riot of the Prodigal's life. Paris saw +most of his money--the Paris which, under his auspices, Doggie never +knew. Plentiful claret set his tongue wagging in Rabelaisian +reminiscence. After Paris came husks. Not bad husks if you knew how to +cook them. Borrowed salt and pepper and a little stolen butter worked +wonders. But they were irritating to the stomach. He lay on the floor, +said he, and yelled for fatted calf; but there was no soft-headed +parent to supply it. Phineas McPhail must be a slave again and work +for his living. Then came private coaching, freelance journalism, +hunting for secretaryships: the commonplace story humorously told of +the wastrel's decline; then a gorgeous efflorescence in light green +and gold as the man outside a picture palace in Camberwell--and +lastly, the penniless patriot throwing himself into the arms of his +desirous country. + +"Have you any whisky in the house, laddie?" he asked, after the dinner +things had been taken away. + +"No," said Doggie, "but I could easily get you some." + +"Pray don't," said McPhail. "If you had, I was going to ask you to be +kind enough not to let your excellent landlord, whom I recognize as a +butler of the old school, produce it. Butlers of the old school are +apt, like Peddle, to bring in a maddening tray of decanters, syphons, +and glasses. You may not believe me, but I haven't touched a drop of +whisky since I joined the army." + +"Why?" asked Doggie. + +McPhail looked at the long carefully preserved ash of one of Doggie's +excellent cigars. + +"It's all a part of the doctrine of adaptability. In order to attain +happiness in the army, the first step is to avoid differences of +opinion with the civil and military police and non-commissioned +officers, and such-like sycophantic myrmidons of authority. Being a +man of academic education, it is with difficulty that I agree with +them when I'm sober. If I were drunk, my bonnie laddie"--he waved a +hand--"well--I don't get drunk. And as I have no use for whisky, as +merely an agreeable beverage, I have struck whisky out of my +hedonistic scheme of existence. But if you have any more of that +pleasant claret----" + +Doggie rang the bell and gave the order. The landlord brought in +bottle and glasses. + +"And now, my dear Marmaduke," said Phineas after an appreciative sip, +"now that I have told you the story of my life, may I, without +impertinent curiosity, again ask you what you meant when you said you +had come down to bed-rock?" + +The sight of the man, smug, cynical, shameless, sprawling luxuriously +on the sofa, with his tunic unbuttoned, filled him with sudden fury: +such fury as Oliver's insult had aroused, such as had impelled him +during a vicious rag in the mess to clutch a man's hair and almost +pull it out by the roots. + +"Yes, you may; and I'll tell you," he cried, starting to his feet. +"I've reached the bed-rock of myself--the bed-rock of humiliation and +disgrace. And it's all your fault. Instead of training me to be a man, +you pandered to my poor mother's weaknesses and brought me up like a +little toy dog--the infernal name still sticks to me wherever I go. +You made a helpless fool of me, and let me go out a helpless fool into +the world. And when you came across me I was thinking whether it +wouldn't be best to throw myself over the parapet. A month ago you +would have saluted me in the street and stood before me at attention +when I spoke to you----" + +"Eh? What's that, laddie?" interrupted Phineas, sitting up. "You've +held a commission in the army?" + +"Yes," said Doggie fiercely, "and I've been chucked. I've been thrown +out as a hopeless rotter. And who is most to blame--you or I? It's +you. You've brought me to this infernal place. I'm here in +hiding--hiding from my family and the decent folk I'm ashamed to meet. +And it's all your fault, and now you have it!" + +"Laddie, laddie," said Phineas reproachfully, "the facts of my being a +guest beneath your roof and my humble military rank, render it +difficult for me to make an appropriate reply." + +Doggie's rage had spent itself. These rare fits were short-lived and +left him somewhat unnerved. + +"I'm sorry, Phineas. As you say, you're my guest. And as to your +uniform, God knows I honour every man who wears it." + +"That's taking things in the right spirit," Phineas conceded graciously, +helping himself to another glass of wine. "And the right spirit is a +great healer of differences. I'll not go so far as to deny that there +is an element of justice in your apportionment of blame. There may, on +various occasions, have been some small dereliction of duty. But +you'll have been observing that in the recent exposition of my +philosophy I have not laboured the point of duty to disproportionate +exaggeration." + +Doggie lit a cigarette. His fingers were still shaking. "I'm glad you +own up. It's a sign of grace." + +"Ay," said Phineas, "no man is altogether bad. In spite of everything, +I've always entertained a warm affection for you, laddie, and when I +saw you staring at bogies round about the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral +my heart went out to you. You didn't look over-happy." + +Doggie, always responsive to human kindness, was touched. He felt a +note of sincerity in McPhail's tone. Perhaps he had judged him +harshly, overlooking the plea in extenuation which Phineas had set +up--that in every man there must be some saving remnant of goodness. + +"I wasn't happy, Phineas," he said; "I was as miserable an outcast as +could be found in London, and when a fellow's down and out, you must +forgive him for speaking more bitterly than he ought." + +"Don't I know, laddie? Don't I know?" said Phineas sympathetically. He +reached for the cigar-box. "Do you mind if I take another? Perhaps +two--one to smoke afterwards, in memory of this meeting. It is a long +time since my lips touched a thing so gracious as a real Havana." + +"Take a lot," said Doggie generously, "I don't really like cigars. I +only bought them because I thought they might be stronger than +cigarettes." + +Phineas filled his pockets. "You can pay no greater compliment to a +man's honesty of purpose," said he, "than by taking him at his word. +And now," he continued, when he had carefully lit the cigar he had +first chosen, "let us review the entire situation. What about our good +friends at Durdlebury? What about your uncle, the Very Reverend the +Dean, against whom I bear no ill-will, though I do not say that his +ultimate treatment of me was not over-hasty--what about him? If you +call upon me to put my almost fantastically variegated experience of +life at your disposal, and advise you in this crisis, so I must ask +you to let me know the exact conditions in which you find yourself." + +Doggie smiled once again, finding something diverting and yet +stimulating in the calm assurance of Private McPhail. + +"I'm not aware that I've asked you for advice, Phineas." + +"The fact that you're not aware of many things that you do is no proof +that you don't do them--and do them in a manner perfectly obvious to +another party," replied Phineas sententiously. "You're asking for +advice and consolation from any friendly human creature to whom you're +not ashamed to speak. You've had an awful sorrowful time, laddie." + +Doggie roamed about the room, with McPhail's little grey eyes fixed on +him. Yes, Phineas was right. He would have given most of his +possessions to be able, these later days, to pour out his tortured +soul into sympathetic ears. But shame had kept him, still kept him, +would always keep him, from the ears of those he loved. Yes, Phineas +had said the diabolically right thing. He could not be ashamed to +speak to Phineas. And there was something good in Phineas which he had +noticed with surprise. How easy for him, in response to bitter +accusation, to cast the blame on his mother? He himself had given the +opening. How easy for him to point to his predecessor's short tenure +of office and plead the alternative of carrying out Mrs. Trevor's +theory of education or of resigning his position in favour of some +sycophant even more time-serving? But he had kept silent.... Doggie +stopped short and looked at Phineas with eyes dumbly questioning and +quivering lips. + +Phineas rose and put his hands on the boy's shoulders, and said very +gently: + +"Tell me all about it, laddie." + +Then Doggie broke down, and with a gush of unminded tears found +expression for his stony despair. His story took a long time in the +telling; and Phineas interjecting an occasional sympathetic "Ay, ay," +and a delicately hinted question, extracted from Doggie all there was +to tell, from the outbreak of war to their meeting on Waterloo Bridge. + +"And now," cried he at last, a dismally tragic figure, his young face +distorted and reddened, his sleek hair ruffled from the back into +unsightly perpendicularities (an invariable sign of distracted +emotion) and his hands appealingly outstretched--"what the hell am I +going to do?" + +"Laddie," said Phineas, standing on the hearthrug, his hands on his +hips, "if you had posed the question in the polite language of the +precincts of Durdlebury Cathedral, I might have been at a loss to +reply. But the manly invocation of hell shows me that your foot is +already on the upward path. If you had prefaced it by the adjective +that gives colour to all the aspirations of the British Army, it would +have been better. But I'm not reproaching you, laddie. _Poco a poco._ +It is enough. It shows me you are not going to run away to a neutral +country and present the unedifying spectacle of a mangy little British +lion at the mercy of a menagerie of healthy hyenas and such-like +inferior though truculent beasties." + +"My God!" cried Doggie, "haven't I thought of it till I'm half mad? It +would be just as you say--unendurable." He began to pace the room +again. "And I can't go to France. It would be just the same as +England. Every one would be looking white feathers at me. The only +thing I can do is to go out of the world. I'm not fit for it. Oh, I +don't mean suicide. I've not enough pluck. That's off. But I could go +and bury myself in the wilderness somewhere where no one would ever +find me." + +"Laddie," said McPhail, "I misdoubt that you're going to settle down +in any wilderness. You haven't the faculty of adaptability of which I +have spoken to-night at some length. And your heart is young and not +coated with the holy varnish of callousness, which is a secret +preparation known only to those who have served a long apprenticeship +in a severe school of egotism." + +"That's all very well," cried Doggie, "but what the----" + +Phineas waved an interrupting hand. "You've got to go back, laddie. +You've got to whip all the moral courage in you and go back to +Durdlebury. The Dean, with his influence, and the letter you have +shown me from your Colonel, can easily get you some honourable +employment in either Service not so exacting as the one which you have +recently found yourself unable to perform." + +Doggie threw a newly-lighted cigarette into the fire and turned +passionately on McPhail. + +"I won't. You're talking drivelling rot. I can't. I'd sooner die than +go back there with my tail between my legs. I'd sooner enlist as a +private soldier." + +"Enlist?" said Phineas, and he drew himself up straight and gaunt. +"Well, why not?" + +"Enlist?" echoed Doggie in a dull tone. + +"Have you never contemplated such a possibility?" + +"Good God, no!" said Doggie. + +"I have enlisted. And I am a man of ancient lineage as honourable, so +as not to enter into unproductive argument, as yours. And I am a +Master of Arts of the two Universities of Glasgow and Cambridge. Yet I +fail to find anything dishonourable in my present estate as 33702 +Private Phineas McPhail in the British Army." + +Doggie seemed not to hear him. He stared at him wildly. + +"Enlist?" he repeated. "As a Tommy?" + +"Even as a Tommy," said Phineas. He glanced at the ormolu clock. "It +is past one. The respectable widow woman near the Elephant and Castle +who has let me a bedroom will be worn by anxiety as to my non-return. +Marmaduke, my dear, dear laddie, I must leave you. If you will be +lunching here twelve hours hence, nothing will give me greater +pleasure than to join you. Laddie, do you think you could manage a +fried sole and a sweetbread?" + +"Enlist?" said Doggie, following him out to the front door in a dream. + +He opened the door. Phineas shook hands. + +"Fried sole and a sweetbread at one-thirty?" + +"Of course, with pleasure," said Doggie. + +Phineas fumbled in his pockets. + +"It's a long cry at this time of night from Bloomsbury to the Elephant +and Castle. You haven't the price of a taxi fare about you, +laddie--two or three pounds----?" + +Doggie drew from his patent note-case a sheaf of one-pound and +ten-shilling treasury notes and handed them over to McPhail's vulture +clutch. + +"Good night, laddie!" + +"Good night!" + +Phineas strode away into the blackness. Doggie shut the front door and +put up the chain and went back into his sitting-room. He wound his +fingers in his hair. + +"Enlist? My God!" + +He lit a cigarette and after a few puffs flung it into the grate. He +stared at the alternatives. + +Flight, which was craven--a lifetime of self-contempt. Durdlebury, +which was impossible. Enlistment----? + +Yet what was a man incapable yet able-bodied, honourable though +disgraced, to do? + +His landlord found him at seven o'clock in the morning asleep in an +arm-chair. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +After a bath and a change and breakfast, Doggie went out for one of +his solitary walks. At Durdlebury such a night as the last would have +kept him in bed in a darkened room for most of the following day. But +he had spent many far, far worse on Salisbury Plain, and the +inexorable reveille had dragged him out into the raw dreadful morning, +heedless of his headache and yearning for slumber, until at last the +process of hardening had begun. To-day Doggie was as unfatigued a +young man as walked the streets of London, a fact which his mind was +too confusedly occupied to appreciate. Once more was he beset less by +the perplexities of the future than by a sense of certain impending +doom. For to Phineas McPhail's "Why not?" he had been able to give no +answer. He could give no answer now, as he marched with swinging step, +automatically, down Oxford Street and the Bayswater Road in the +direction of Kensington Gardens. He could give no answer as he stood +sightlessly staring at the Peter Pan statue. + +A one-armed man in a khaki cap and hospital blue came and stood by his +side and looked in a pleased yet puzzled way at the exquisite poem in +marble. At last he spoke--in a rich Irish accent. + +"I beg your pardon, sir, but could you be telling me the meaning of +it, at all?" + +Doggie awoke and smiled. + +"Do you like it?" + +"I do," said the soldier. + +"It is about Peter Pan. A kind of Fairy Tale. You can see the 'little +people' peeping out--I think you call them so in Ireland." + +"We do that," said the soldier. + +So Doggie sketched the outline of the immortal story of the Boy Who +Will Never Grow Old, and the Irishman listened with deep interest. + +"Indeed," said he after a time, "it is good to come back to the true +things after the things out there." He waved his one arm in the vague +direction of the war. + +"Why do you call them true things?" Doggie asked quickly. + +They turned away, and Doggie found himself sitting on a bench by the +man's side. + +"It's not me that can tell you that," said he, "and my wife and +children in Galway." + +"Were you there at the outbreak of war?" + +He was. A reservist called back to the colours after some years of +retirement from the army. He had served in India and South Africa, a +hard-bitten soldier, proud of the traditions of his old regiment. +There were scarcely any of them left--and that was all that was left +of him. He smiled cheerily. Doggie condoled with him on the loss of +his arm. + +"Ah sure," he replied, "and it might keep me out of a fight when I go +into Ballinasloe." + +"Who would you want to fight?" asked Doggie. + +"The dirty Sinn Feiners that do be always shouting 'Freedom for +Ireland and to hell with freedom for the rest of the world.' If I +haven't lost my arm in a glorious cause, what have I lost it for? Can +you tell me that?" + +Doggie agreed that he had fought for the greater freedom of humanity +and gave him a cigarette, and they went on talking. The Irishman had +been in the retreat from Mons, the first battle of Ypres, and he had +lost his arm in no battle at all; just a stray shell over the road as +they were marching back to billets. They discussed the war, the ethics +of it. Doggie still wanted to know why the realities of blood and mud +and destruction were not the true things. Gradually he found that the +Irishman meant that the true things were the spiritual, undying +things; that the grim realities would pass away; that from these dead +realities would arise the noble ideals of the future, which would be +symbolized in song and marble; that all he had endured and sacrificed +was but a part of the Great Sacrifice we were making for the Freedom +of the World. Being a man roughly educated on a Galway farm and in an +infantry regiment, he had great difficulty in co-ordinating his ideas; +but he had a curious power of vision that enabled him to pierce to the +heart of things, which he interpreted according to his untrained sense +of beauty. + +They parted with expressions of mutual esteem. Doggie struck across +the Gardens with a view to returning home by Knightsbridge, Piccadilly +and Shaftesbury Avenue. He strode along, his thoughts filled with the +Irish soldier. Here was a man, maimed for life and quite content that +it should be so, who had reckoned all the horrors through which he had +passed as externals unworthy of the consideration of his unconquerable +soul; a man simple, unassuming, expansive only through his Celtic +temperament, which allowed him to talk easily to a stranger before +whom his English or Scotch comrade would have been dumb and gaping as +an oyster; obviously brave, sincere and loyal. Perhaps something even +higher. Perhaps, in essence, the very highest. The Poet-Warrior. The +term struck Doggie's brain with a thud, like the explosive fusion of +two elements. + +During his walk to Kensington Gardens a poisonous current had run at +the back of his mind. Drifting on it, might he not escape? Was he not +of too fine a porcelain to mingle with the coarse and common pottery +of the ranks? Was it necessary to go into the thick of the coarse clay +vessels, just to be shattered? It was easy for Phineas to proclaim +that he found no derogation to his dignity as a man of birth and a +university graduate in identifying himself with his fellow privates. +Phineas had systematically brutalized himself into fitness for the +position. He had armed himself in brass--_aes triplex_. He smiled at +his own wit. But he, James Marmaduke Trevor, who had lived his life as +a clean gentleman, was in a category apart. + +Now, he found that his talk with the Irishman had been an antidote to +the poison. He felt ashamed. Did he dare set himself up to be finer +clay than that common soldier? Spiritually, was he even of clay as +fine? In a Great Judgment of Souls which of the twain would be among +the Elect? The ultra-refined Mr. Marmaduke Trevor of Denby Hall, or +the ignorant poet-warrior of Ballinasloe? "Not Doggie Trevor," he said +between his teeth. And he went home in a chastened spirit. + +Phineas McPhail appeared punctually at half-past one, and feasted +succulently on fried sole and sweetbread. + +"Laddie," said he, "the man that can provide such viands is a Thing of +Beauty which, as the poet says, is a Joy for Ever. The light in his +window is a beacon to the hungry Tommy dragging himself through the +viscous wilderness of regulation stew." + +"I'm afraid it won't be a beacon for very long," said Doggie. + +"Eh?" queried Phineas sharply. "You'd surely not be thinking of +refusing an old friend a stray meal?" + +Doggie coloured at the coarseness of the misunderstanding. + +"How could I be such a brute? There won't be a light in the window +because I shan't be there. I'm going to enlist." + +Phineas put his elbows on the table and regarded him earnestly. + +"I would not take too seriously words spoken in the heat of midnight +revelry, even though the revel was conducted on the genteelest +principles. Have you thought of the matter in the cool and sober hours +of the morning?" + +"Yes." + +"It's an unco' hard life, laddie." + +"The one I'm leading is a harder," said Doggie. "I've made up my +mind." + +"Then I've one piece of advice to give you," said McPhail. "Sink the +name of Marmaduke, which would only stimulate the ignorant ribaldry of +the canteen, and adopt the name of James, which your godfathers and +godmothers, with miraculous foresight, considering their limitations +in the matter of common sense, have given you." + +"That's a good idea," said Doggie. + +"Also it would tend to the obliteration of class prejudices if you +gave up smoking Turkish cigarettes at ten shillings a hundred and +arrived in your platoon as an amateur of 'fags.'" + +"I can't stand 'fags,'" said Doggie. + +"You can. The human organism is so constituted that it can stand the +sweepings of the elephants' house in the Zoological Gardens. Try. This +time it's only 'fags.'" + +Doggie took one from the crumpled paper packet which was handed to +him, and lit it. He made a wry face, never before having smoked +American tobacco. + +"How do you like the flavour?" asked Phineas. + +"I think I'd prefer the elephants' house," said Doggie, eyeing the +thing with disgust. + +"You'll find it the flavour of the whole British Army," said McPhail. + + * * * * * + +A few days later the Dean received a letter bearing the pencilled +address of a camp on the south coast, and written by 35792 Pvte. James +M. Trevor, A Company, 2-10th Wessex Rangers. It ran: + + "I hope you won't think me heartless for having left you so long + without news of me; but until lately I had the same reasons for + remaining in seclusion as when I last wrote. Even now I'm not + asking for sympathy or reconsideration of my failure or desire + in any way to take advantage of the generosity of you all. + + "I have enlisted in the 10th Wessex. Phineas McPhail, whom I met + in London and whose character for good or evil I can better + gauge now than formerly, is a private in the same battalion. I + don't pretend to enjoy the life any more than I could enjoy + living in a kraal of savages in Central Africa. But that is a + matter of no account. I don't propose to return to Durdlebury + till the end of the war. I left it as an officer and I'm not + coming back as a private soldier. I enclose a cheque for L500. + Perhaps Aunt Sophia will be so kind as to use the money--it + ought to last some time--for the general upkeep, wages, etc., of + Denby Hall. I feel sure she will not refuse me this favour. Give + Peggy my love and tell her I hope she will accept the two-seater + as a parting gift. It will make me happier to know that she is + driving it. + + "I am keeping on as a _pied a terre_ in London the Bloomsbury + rooms in which I have been living, and I've written to Peddle to + see about making them more comfortable. Please ask anybody who + might care to write to address me as 'James M.' and not as + 'Marmaduke.'" + +The Dean read the letter--the family were at breakfast; then he took +off his tortoise-shell spectacles and wiped them. + +"It's from Marmaduke at last," said he. "He has carried out my +prophecy and enlisted." + +Peggy caught at her breath and shot out her hand for the letter, which +she read eagerly and then passed over to her mother. Mrs. Conover +began to cry. + +"Oh, the poor boy! It will be worse than ever for him." + +"It will," said Peggy. "But I think it splendid of him to try. How did +he bring himself to do it?" + +"Breed tells," said the Dean. "That's what every one seems to have +forgotten. He's a thoroughbred Doggie. There's the old French proverb: +_Bon chien chasse de race._" + +Peggy looked at him gratefully. "You're very comforting," she said. + +"We must knit him some socks," observed Mrs. Conover. "I hear those +supplied to the army are very rough and ready." + +"My dear," smiled the Dean, "Marmaduke's considerable income does not +cease because his pay in the army is one and twopence a day; and I +should think he would have the sense to provide himself with adequate +underclothing. Also, judging from the account of your shopping orgy in +London, he has already laid in a stock that would last out several +Antarctic winters." + +The Dean tapped his egg gently. + +"Then what can we do for the poor boy?" asked his wife. + +The Dean scooped the top of his egg off with a vicious thrust. + +"We can cut out slanderous tongues," said he. + +There had been much calumniating cackle in the little town; nay, more: +cackle is of geese; there had been venom of the snakiest kind. The +Deanery, father and mother and daughter, each in their several ways, +had suffered greatly. It is hard to stand up against poisoned +ridicule. + +"My dear," continued the Dean, "it will be our business to smite the +Philistines, hip and thigh. The reasons which guided Marmaduke in the +resignation of his commission are the concern of nobody. The fact +remains that Mr. Marmaduke Trevor resigned his commission in order +to----" + +Peggy interrupted with a smile. "'In order to'--isn't that a bit +Jesuitical, daddy?" + +"I have a great respect for the Jesuits, my dear," said the Dean, +holding out an impressive egg-spoon. "The fact remains, in the eyes of +the world, as I remarked, that Mr. Marmaduke Trevor of Denby Hall, a +man of fortune and high position in the county, resigned his +commission in order, for reasons best known to himself, to serve his +country more effectively in the humbler ranks of the army, and--my +dear, this egg is far too full for war time"--with a hazardous plunge +of his spoon he had made a yellow yelky horror of the egg-shell--"and +I'm going to proclaim the fact far and wide, and--indeed--rub it in." + +"That'll be jolly decent of you, daddy," said his daughter. "It will +help a lot." + +In the failure of Marmaduke to retain his commission the family honour +had not been concerned. The boy had done his best. They blamed not him +but the disastrous training that had unfitted him for the command of +men. They reproached themselves for their haste in throwing him +headlong into the fiercest element of the national struggle towards +efficiency. They could have found an easier school, in which he could +have learned to do his share creditably in the national work. Many +young men of their acquaintance, far more capable than Marmaduke, were +wearing the uniform of a less strenuous branch of the service. It had +been a blunder, a failure, but without loss of honour. But when +slanderous tongues attacked poor Doggie for running away with a yelp +from a little hardship; when a story or two of Doggie's career in the +regiment arrived in Durdlebury, highly flavoured in transit and more +and more poisoned as it went from mouth to mouth; when a legend was +spread abroad that he had bolted from Salisbury Plain and was run to +earth in a Turkish Bath in London, and was only saved from +court-martial by family influence, then the family honour of the +Conovers was wounded to its proud English depths. And they could say +nothing. They had only Doggie's word to go upon; they accepted it +unquestioningly, but they knew no details. Doggie had disappeared. +Naturally, they contradicted these evil rumours. The good folks of +Durdlebury expected them to do so, and listened with well-bred +incredulity. To the question, "Where is he now and what is he going to +do?" they could only answer, "We don't know." They were helpless. + +Peggy had a bitter quarrel with one of her intimates, Nancy Murdoch, +daughter of the doctor who had proclaimed the soundness of Marmaduke's +constitution. + +"He may have told you so, dear," said Nancy, "but how do you know?" + +"Because whatever else he may be, he's not a liar," retorted Peggy. + +Nancy gave the most delicate suspicion of a shrug to her pretty +shoulders. + +That was the beginning of it. Peggy, naturally combative, armed for +the fight and defended Marmaduke. + +"You talk as though you were still engaged to him," said Nancy. + +"So I am," declared Peggy rashly. + +"Then where's your engagement ring?" + +"Where I choose to keep it." + +The retort lacked originality and conviction. + +"You can't send it back to him, because you don't know where he is. +And what did Mrs. Conover mean by telling mother that Mr. Trevor had +broken off the engagement?" + +"She never told her any such thing," cried Peggy mendaciously. For +Mrs. Conover had committed the indiscretion under assurance of +silence. + +"Pardon me," said Nancy, much on her dignity. "Of course I understand +your denying it. It isn't pleasant to be thrown over by any man--but +by a man like Doggie Trevor----" + +"You're a spiteful beast, Nancy, and I'll never speak to you again. +You've neither womanly decency nor Christian feeling." And Peggy +marched out of the doctor's house. + +As a result of the quarrel, however, she resumed the wearing of the +ring, which she flaunted defiantly with left hand deliberately +ungloved. Hitherto she had not been certain of the continuance of the +engagement. Marmaduke's repudiation was definite enough; but it had +been dictated by his sensitive honour. It lay with her to agree or +decline. She had passed through wearisome days of doubt. A physically +sound fighting man sent about his business as being unfit for war does +not appear a romantic figure in a girl's eyes. She was bitterly +disappointed with Doggie for the sudden withering of her hopes. Had he +fulfilled them she could have loved him wholeheartedly, after the +simple way of women; for her sex, exhilarated by the barbaric +convulsion of the land, clamoured for something heroic, something at +least intensely masculine, in which she could find feminine +exultation. She also felt resentment at his flight from the Savoy, his +silence and practical disappearance. Although not blaming him +unjustly, she failed to realize the spiritual piteousness of his +plight. If the war has done anything in this country, it has saved the +young women of the gentler classes, at any rate, from the abyss of +sordid and cynical materialism. Hesitating to announce the rupture of +the engagement, she allowed it to remain in a state of suspended +animation, and as a symbolic act, ceased to wear the ring. Nancy's +taunts had goaded her to a more heroic attitude. The first person to +whom she showed the newly-ringed hand was her mother. + +"The engagement isn't off until I declare it's off. I'm going to play +the game." + +"You know best, dear," said the gentle Mrs. Conover. "But it's all +very upsetting." + +Then Doggie's letter brought comfort and gladness to the Deanery. It +reassured them as to his fate. It healed the wounded family honour. It +justified Peggy in playing the game. + +She took the letter round to Dr. Murdoch's and thrust it into the hand +of an astonished Nancy, with whom since the quarrel she had not been +on speaking terms. + +"This is in Marmaduke's handwriting. You recognize it. Just read the +top line when I've folded it. 'I have enlisted in the 10th Wessex.' +See?" She withdrew the letter. "Now, what could a man, let alone an +honourable gentleman, do more? Say you're sorry for having said +beastly things about him." + +Nancy, who had regretted the loss of a lifelong friendship, professed +her sorrow. + +"The least you can do then, is to go round and spread the news, and +say you've seen the letter with your own eyes." + +To several others, on a triumphant round of visits, did she show the +vindicating sentence. Any soft young fool, she asserted, with the +directness and not unattractive truculence of her generation, can get +a commission and muddle through, but it took a man to enlist as a +private soldier. + +"Everybody recognizes now, darling," said the reconciled Nancy a few +days later, "that Doggie is a top-hole, splendid chap. But I think I +ought to tell you that you're boring Durdlebury stiff." + +Peggy laughed. It was good to be engaged to a man no longer under a +cloud. + +"It will all come right, dear old thing," she wrote to Doggie. "It's a +cinch, as the Americans say. You'll soon get used to it--especially if +you can realize what it means to me. 'Saving face' has been an awful +business. Now it's all over. Of course, I'll accept the two-seater. +I've had lessons in driving since you went away--I had thoughts of +going out to France to drive Y.M.C.A. cars, but that's off for the +present. I'll love the two-seater. Swank won't be the word. But 'a +parting gift' is all rot. The engagement stands and all Durdlebury +knows it..." and so on, and so on. She set herself out, honestly, +loyally, to be the kindest girl in the world to Doggie. Mrs. Conover +happened to come into the drawing-room just as she was licking the +stamp. She thumped it on the envelope with her palm and, looking round +from the writing-desk against the wall, showed her mother a flushed +and smiling face. + +"If anybody says I'm not good--the goodest thing the cathedral has +turned out for half a dozen centuries--I'll tear her horrid eyes out +from their sockets!" + +"My dear!" cried her horrified mother. + + * * * * * + +Doggie kept the letter unopened in his tunic pocket until he could +find solitude in which to read it. After morning parade he wandered to +the deserted trench at the end of the camp, where the stuffed sacks, +representing German defenders, were hung for bayonet practice. It was +a noon of grey mist through which the alignments of huts and tents +were barely visible. Instinctively avoiding the wet earth of the +parados, he went round, and, tired after the recent spell of physical +drill, sat down on the equally wet sandbags of the model parapet, a +pathetic, lonely little khaki figure isolated for the moment by the +kindly mist from an uncomprehending world. + +He read Peggy's letter several times. He recognized her goodness, her +loyalty. The grateful tears even came to his eyes and he brushed them +away hurriedly with a swift look round. But his heart beat none the +faster. A long-faded memory of childhood came back to him in regained +colour. Some quarrel with Peggy. What it was all about he had entirely +forgotten; but he remembered her little flushed face and her angry +words: "Well, I'm a sport and you ain't!" He remembered also rebuking +her priggishly for unintelligible language and mincing away. He read +the letter again in the light of this flash of memory. The only +difference between it and the childish speech lay in the fact that +instead of a declaration of contrasts, she now uttered a declaration +of similitudes. They were both "sports." There she was wrong. Doggie +shook his head. In her sense of the word he was not a "sport." A sport +takes chances, plays the game with a smile on his lips. There was no +smile on his. He loathed the game with a sickening, shivering +loathing. He was engaged in it because a conglomeration of +irresistible forces had driven him into the _melee_. It never +occurred to Doggie that he was under orders of his own soul. This +simple yet stupendous fact never occurred to Peggy. + +He sat on the wet sandbags and thought and thought. Though he +reproached himself for base ingratitude, the letter did not satisfy +him. It left his heart cold. What he sought in it he did not know. It +was something he could not find, something that was not there. The +sea-mist thickened around him. Peggy seemed very far away.... He was +still engaged to her--for it would be monstrous to persist in his +withdrawal. He must accept the situation which she decreed. He owed +that to her loyalty. But how to continue the correspondence? It was +hard enough to write from Salisbury Plain; from here it was well-nigh +impossible. + +Thus was Doggie brought up against a New Problem. He struggled +desperately to defer its solution. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The regiments of the new armies have gathered into their rank and file +a mixed crowd transcending the dreams of Democracy. At one end of the +social scale are men of refined minds and gentle nurture, at the other +creatures from the slums, with slum minds and morals, and between them +the whole social gamut is run. Experience seems to show that neither +of the extreme elements tend, in the one case to elevate, or in the +other to debase the battalion. Leading the common life, sharing the +common hardships, striving towards common ideals, they inevitably, +irresistibly tend to merge themselves in the average. The highest in +the scale sink, the lowest rise. The process, as far as the change of +soul state is concerned, is infinitely more to the amelioration of the +lowest than to the degradation of the highest. The one, also, is more +real, the other more apparent. In the one case, it is merely the +shuffling-off of manners, of habits, of prejudices, and the assuming +of others horribly distasteful or humorously accepted, according to +temperament; in the other case, it is an enforced education. And all +the congeries of human atoms that make up the battalion, learn new and +precious lessons and acquire new virtues--patience, obedience, +courage, endurance.... But from the point of view of a decorous +tea-party in a cathedral town, the tone--or the standard of manners, +or whatever you would like by way of definition of that vague and +comforting word--the tone of the average is deplorably low. The +hooligan may be kicked for excessive foulness; but the rider of the +high horse is brutally dragged down into the mire. The curious part of +it all is that, the gutter element being eliminated altogether, the +corporate standard of the remaining majority is lower than the +standard of each individual. + +By developing a philosophical disquisition on some such lines did +Phineas McPhail seek to initiate Doggie into the weird mysteries of +the new social life. Doggie heard with his ears, but thought in terms +of Durdlebury tea-parties. Nowhere in the mass could he find the +spiritual outlook of his Irish poet-warrior. The individuals that may +have had it kept it preciously to themselves. The outlook, as conveyed +in speech, was grossly materialistic. From the language of the canteen +he recoiled in disgust. He could not reconcile it with the nobler +attributes of the users. It was in vain for Phineas to plead that he +must accept the _lingua franca_ of the British Army like all other +things appertaining thereto. Doggie's stomach revolted against most of +the other things. The disregard (from his point of view) of personal +cleanliness universal in the ranks, filled him with dismay. Even on +Salisbury Plain he had managed to get a little hot water for his +morning tub. Here, save in the officers' quarters--curiously remote, +inaccessible paradise!--there was not such a thing as a tub in the +place, let alone hot water to fill it. The men never dreamed of such a +thing as a tub. As a matter of fact, they were scrupulously clean +according to the lights of the British Tommy; but the lights were not +those of Marmaduke Trevor. He had learned the supreme wisdom of +keeping lips closed on such matters and did not complain, but all his +fastidiousness rebelled. He hated the sluice of head and shoulders +with water from a bucket in the raw open air. His hands swelled, +blistered and cracked; and his nails, once so beautifully manicured, +grew rich black rims, and all the icy water in the buckets would not +remove the grime. + +Now and then he went into the town and had a hot bath; but very few of +the others ever seemed to think of such a thing. The habit of the +British Army of going to bed in its day-shirt was peculiarly +repellent. Yet Doggie knew that to vary from the sacred ways of his +fellow-men was to bring disaster on his head. + +Some of the men slept under canvas still. But Doggie, fortunately as +he reckoned (for he had begun to appreciate fine shades in misery), +was put with a dozen others in a ramshackle hut of which the woodwork +had warped and let in the breezes above, below, and all round the sides. +Doggie, though dismally cold, welcomed the air for obvious reasons. +They were fortunate, too, in having straw palliasses--recently +provided when it was discovered that sleeping on badly boarded floors +with fierce draughts blowing upwards along human spines was strangely +fatal to human bodies--but Doggie found his bed very hard lying. And +it smelt sour and sickly. For nights, in spite of fatigue, he could +not sleep. His mates sang and talked and bandied jests and sarcasms of +esoteric meaning. Some of the recruits from factories or farms +satirized their officers for peculiarities common to their social +caste and gave grotesque imitations of their mode of speech. Doggie +wondered, but held his peace. The deadly stupidity and weariness of it +all! And when the talk stopped and they settled to sleep, the snorings +and mutterings and coughings began and kept poor Doggie awake most of +the night. The irremediable, intimate propinquity with coarse humanity +oppressed him. He would have given worlds to go out, even into the +pouring rain, and walk about the camp or sleep under a hedge, so long +as he could be alone. And he would think longingly of his satinwood +bedroom, with its luxurious bed and lavender-scented sheets, and of +his beloved peacock and ivory room and its pictures and exquisite +furniture and the great fire roaring up the chimney, and devise +intricate tortures for the Kaiser who had dragged him down to this +squalor. + +The meals--the rough cooking, the primitive service--the table manners +of his companions, offended his delicate senses. He missed napkins. +Never could he bring himself to wipe his mouth with the back of his +hand and the back of his hand on the seat of his trousers. Nor could +he watch with equanimity an honest soul pick his teeth with his little +finger. But Doggie knew that acquiescence was the way of happiness and +protest the way of woe. + +At first he made few acquaintances beyond those with whom he was +intimately associated. It seemed more politic to obey his instincts +and remain unobtrusive in company and drift away inoffensively when +the chance occurred. One of the men with whom he talked occasionally +was a red-headed little cockney by the name of Shendish. For some +reason or the other--perhaps because his name conveyed a perfectly +wrong suggestion of the Hebraic--he was always called "Mo" Shendish. + +"Don't yer wish yer was back, mate?" he asked one day, having waited +to speak till Doggie had addressed and stamped a letter which he was +writing at the end of the canteen table. + +"Where?" said Doggie. + +"'Ome, sweet 'ome. In the family castle, where gilded footmen 'ands +sausage and mash about on trays and quarts of beer all day long. I +do." + +"You're a lucky chap to have a castle," said Doggie. + +Mo Shendish grinned. He showed little yellow teeth beneath a little +red moustache. + +"I ain't 'alf got one," said he. "It's in Mare Street, Hackney. I wish +I was there now." + +He sighed, and in an abstracted way he took a half-smoked cigarette +from behind his ear and relit it. + +"What were yer before yer joined? Yer look like a clerk." He +pronounced it as if it were spelt with a "u." + +"Something of the sort," replied Doggie cautiously. + +"One can always tell you eddicated blokes. Making your five quid a +week easy, I suppose?" + +"About that," said Doggie. "What were you?" + +"I was making my thirty bob a week regular. I was in the fish +business, I was. And now I'm serving my ruddy country at one and +twopence a day. Funny life, ain't it?" + +"I can't say it's very enjoyable," said Doggie. + +"Not the same as sitting in a snug orfis all day with a pen in your +lily-white 'and, and going 'ome to your 'igh tea in a top 'at. What +made you join up?" + +"The force of circumstances," said Doggie. + +"Same 'ere," said Mo; "only I couldn't put it into such fancy +language. First my pals went out one after the other. Then the gels +began to look saucy at me, and at last one particular bit of skirt +what I'd been walking out with took to promenading with a blighter in +khaki. It'd have been silly of me to go and knock his 'ead off, so I +enlisted. And it's all right now." + +"Just the same sort of thing in my case," replied Doggie. "I'm glad +things are right with the young lady." + +"First class. She's straight, she is, and no mistake abaht it. She's +a----" + +He paused for a word to express the inexpressive she. + +"--A paragon--a peach?"--Doggie corrected himself. Then, as the sudden +frown of perplexed suspicion was swiftly replaced by a grin of +content, he was struck by a bright idea. + +"What's her name?" + +"Aggie. What's yours?" + +"Gladys," replied Doggie with miraculous readiness of invention. + +"I've got her photograph," Shendish confided in a whisper, and laid +his hand on his tunic pocket. Then he looked round at the half-filled +canteen to see that he was unobserved. "You won't give me away if I +show it yer, will yer?" + +Doggie swore secrecy. The photograph of Aggie, an angular, +square-browed damsel, who looked as though she could guide the most +recalcitrant of fishmongers into the paths of duty, was produced and +thrust into Doggie's hand. He inspected it with polite appreciation, +while his red-headed friend regarded him with fatuous anxiety. + +"Charming! charming!" said Doggie in his pleasantest way. "What's her +colouring?" + +"Fair hair and blue eyes," said Shendish. + +The kindly question, half idle yet unconsciously tactful, was one of +those human things which cost so little but are worth so much. It gave +Doggie a devoted friend. + +"Mo," said he, a day or two later, "you're such a decent chap. Why do +you use such abominable language?" + +"Gawd knows," smiled Mo, unabashed. "I suppose it's friendly like." He +wrinkled his brow in thought for an instant. "That's where I think +you're making a mistake, old pal, if you don't mind my mentioning it. +I know what yer are, but the others don't. You're not friendly enough. +See what I mean? Supposin' you say as you would in a city restoorang +when you're 'aving yer lunch, 'Will yer kindly pass me the +salt?'--well, that's standoffish--they say 'Come off it! 'But if you +look about and say, 'Where's the b----y salt?' that's friendly. They +understand. They chuck it at you." + +Said Doggie, "It's very--I mean b----y--difficult." + +So he tried to be friendly; and if he met with no great positive +success, he at least escaped animosity. In his spare time he mooned +about by himself, shy, disgusted, and miserable. Once, when a group of +men were kicking a football about, the ball rolled his way. Instead of +kicking it back to the expectant players, he picked it up and advanced +to the nearest and handed it to him politely. + +"Thanks, mate," said the astonished man, "but why didn't you kick it?" + +He turned away without waiting for a reply. Doggie had not kicked it +because he had never kicked a football in his life and shrank from an +exhibition of incompetence. + +At drill things were easier than on Salisbury Plain, his actions being +veiled in the obscurity of squad or platoon or company. Many others +besides himself were cursed by sergeants and rated by subalterns and +drastically entreated by captains. He had the consolation of community +in suffering. As a trembling officer he had been the only one, the +only one marked and labelled as a freak apart, the only one stuck in +the eternal pillory. Here were fools and incapables even more dull and +ineffective than he. A plough-boy fellow-recruit from Dorsetshire, +Pugsley by name, did not know right from left, and having mastered the +art of forming fours, could not get into his brain the reverse process +of forming front. He wept under the lash of the corporal's tongue; and +to Doggie these tears were healing dews of Heaven's distillation. By +degrees he learned the many arts of war as taught to the private +soldier in England. He could refrain from shutting his eyes when he +pressed the trigger of his rifle, but to the end of his career his +shooting was erratic. He could perform with the weapon the other +tricks of precision. Unencumbered he could march with the best. The +torture of the heavy pack nearly killed him; but in time, as his +muscles developed, he was able to slog along under the burden. He even +learned to dig. That was the worst and most back-breaking art of all. + +Now and then Phineas McPhail and himself would get together and walk +into the little seaside town. It was out of the season and there was +little to look at save the deserted shops and the squall-fretted pier +and the maidens of the place who usually were in company with lads in +khaki. Sometimes a girl alone would give Doggie a glance of shy +invitation, for Doggie in his short slight way was not a bad-looking +fellow, carrying himself well and wearing his uniform with instinctive +grace. But the damsel ogled in vain. + +On one such occasion Phineas burst into a guffaw. + +"Why don't you talk to the poor body? She's a respectable girl enough. +Where's the harm?" + +"Go 'square-pushing'?" said Doggie contemptuously, using the soldiers' +slang for walking about with a young woman. "No, thank you." + +"And why not? I'm not counselling you, laddie, to plunge into a course +of sensual debauchery. But a wee bit gossip with a pretty innocent +girl----" + +"My dear good chap," Doggie interrupted, "what on earth should I have +in common with her?" + +"Youth." + +"I feel as old as hell," said Doggie bitterly. + +"You'll be feeling older soon," replied Phineas, "and able to look +down on hell with feelings of superiority." + +Doggie walked on in silence for a few paces. Then he said: + +"A thing I can't understand is this mania for picking up girls--just +to walk about the streets with them. It's so inane. It's a disease." + +"Did you ever consider," said Phineas, "how in a station less exalted +than that which you used to adorn, the young of opposite sexes manage +to meet, select and marry? Man, the British Army's going to be a grand +education for you in sociology." + +"Well, at any rate, you don't suppose I'm going to select and marry +out of the street?" + +"You might do worse," said Phineas. Then, after a slight pause, he +asked: "Have you any news lately from Durdlebury?" + +"Confound Durdlebury!" said Doggie. + +Phineas checked him with one hand and waved the other towards a +hostelry on the other side of the street. "If you will give me the +money in advance, so as to evade the ungenerous spirit of the +no-treating law, you can stand me a quart of ale at the Crown and +Sceptre and join me in drinking to its confusion." + +So they entered the saloon bar of the public-house. Doggie drank a +glass of beer while Phineas swallowed a couple of pints. Two or three +other soldiers were there, in whose artless talk McPhail joined +lustily. Doggie, unobtrusive at the end of the bar, maintained a +desultory and uncomfortable conversation with the barmaid, who was of +the florid and hearty type, about the weather. + +Some days later, McPhail again made allusion to Durdlebury. Doggie +again confounded it. + +"I don't want to hear of it or think of it," he exclaimed, in his +nervous way, "until this filthy horror is over. They want me to get +leave and go down and stay. They're making my life miserable with +kindness. I wish they'd let me alone. They don't understand a little +bit. I want to get through this thing alone, all by myself." + +"I'm sorry I persuaded you to join a regiment in which you were +inflicted with the disadvantage of my society," said Phineas. + +Doggie threw out an impatient arm. "Oh, you don't count," said he. + +A few minutes afterwards, repenting his brusqueness, he tried to +explain to Phineas why he did not count. The others knew nothing about +him. Phineas knew everything. + +"And you know everything about Phineas," said McPhail grimly. "Ay, ay, +laddie," he sighed, "I ken it all. When you're in Tophet, a +sympathetic Tophetuan with a wee drop of the milk of human kindness is +more comfort than a radiant angel who showers down upon you, from the +celestial Fortnum and Mason's, potted shrimps and caviare." + +The sombreness cleared for a moment from Doggie's young brow. + +"I never can make up my mind, Phineas," said he, "whether you're a +very wise man or an awful fraud." + +"Give me the benefit of the doubt, laddie," replied McPhail. "It's the +grand theological principle of Christianity." + +Time went on. The regiment was moved to the East Coast. On the journey +a Zeppelin raid paralysed the railway service. Doggie spent the night +under the lee of the bookstall at Waterloo Station. Men huddled up +near him, their heads on their kit-bags, slept and snored. Doggie +almost wept with pain and cold and hatred of the Kaiser. On the East +Coast much the same life as on the South, save that the wind, as if +Hun-sent, found its way more savagely to the skin. + +Then suddenly came the news of a large draft for France, which +included both McPhail and Shendish. They went away on leave. The +gladness with which he welcomed their return showed Doggie how great a +part they played in his new life. In a day or two they would depart +God knew whither, and he would be left in dreadful loneliness. Through +him the two men, the sentimental Cockney fishmonger and the wastrel +Cambridge graduate, had become friends. He spent with them all his +leisure time. + +Then one of the silly tragi-comedies of life occurred. McPhail got +drunk in the crowded bar of a little public-house in the village. It +was the last possible drink together of the draft and their pals. The +draft was to entrain before daybreak on the morrow. It was a foolish, +singing, shouting khaki throng. McPhail, who had borrowed ten pounds +from Doggie, in order to see him through the hardships of the Front, +established himself close by the bar and was drinking whisky. He was +also distributing surreptitious sixpences and shillings into eager +hands, which would convert them into alcohol for eager throats. +Doggie, anxious, stood by his side. The spirit from which McPhail had +for so long abstained, mounted to his unaccustomed brain. He began to +hector, and, master of picturesque speech, he compelled an admiring +audience. Doggie did not realize the extent of his drunkenness until, +vaunting himself as a Scot and therefore the salt of the army, he +picked a quarrel with a stolid Hampshire giant, who professed to have +no use for Phineas's fellow-countrymen. The men closed. Suddenly some +one shouted from the doorway: + +"Be quiet, you fools! The A.P.M.'s coming down the road." + +Now the Assistant Provost Marshal, if he heard hell's delight going on +in a tavern, would naturally make an inquisitorial appearance. The +combatants were separated. McPhail threw a shilling on the bar counter +and demanded another whisky. He was about to lift the glass to his +lips when Doggie, terrified as to what might happen, knocked the glass +out of his hand. + +"Don't be an ass," he cried. + +Phineas was very drunk. He gazed at his old pupil, took off his cap, +and, stretching over the bar, hung it on the handle of a beer-pull. +Then, staggering back, he pointed an accusing finger. + +"He has the audacity to call me an ass. Little blinking Marmaduke +Doggie Trevor. Little Doggie Trevor, whom I trained up from infancy in +the way he shouldn't go----" + +"Why Doggie Trevor?" some one shouted in inquiry. + +"Never mind," replied Phineas with drunken impressiveness. "My old +friend Marmaduke has spilled my whisky and called me an ass. I call +him Doggie, little Doggie Trevor. You all bear witness he knocked the +drink out of my mouth. I'll never forgive him. He doesn't like being +called Doggie--and I've no--no pred'lex'n to be called an ass. I'll be +thinking I'm going just to strangle him." + +He struck out his bony claws towards the shrinking Doggie; but stout +arms closed round him and a horny hand was clamped over his mouth, and +they got him through the bar and the back parlour into the yard, where +they pumped water on his head. And when the A.P.M. and his satellites +passed by, the quiet of The Whip in Hand was the holy peace of a +nunnery. + +Doggie and Mo Shendish and a few other staunch souls got McPhail back +to quarters without much trouble. On parting, the delinquent, +semi-sobered, shook Doggie by the hand and smiled with an air of great +affection. + +"I've been verra drunk, laddie. And I've been angry with you for the +first time in my life. But when you knocked the glass out of my hand I +thought you were in danger of losing your good manners in the army. +We'll have many a pow-wow together when you join me out there." + +The matter would have drifted out of Doggie's mind as one of no +importance had not the detested appellation by which Phineas hailed +him struck the imagination of his comrades. It filled a long-felt +want, no nickname for Private J. M. Trevor having yet been invented. +Doggie Trevor he was and Doggie Trevor he remained for the rest of his +period of service. He resigned himself to the inevitable. The sting +had gone out of the name through his comrades' ignorance of its +origin. But he loathed it as much as ever; it sounded in his ears an +everlasting reproach. + +In spite of the ill turn done in drunkenness, Doggie missed McPhail. +He missed Mo Shendish, his more constant companion, even more. Their +place was in some degree taken, or rather usurped, for it was without +Doggie's volition, by "Taffy" Jones, once clerk to a firm of outside +bookmakers. As Doggie had never seen a racecourse, had never made a +bet, and was entirely ignorant of the names even of famous Derby +winners, Taffy regarded him as an astonishing freak worth the +attention of a student of human nature. He began to cultivate Doggie's +virgin mind by aid of reminiscence, and of such racing news as was to +be found in the _Sportsman_. He was a garrulous person and Doggie a +good listener. To please him Doggie backed horses, through the old +firm, for small sums. The fact of his being a man of large independent +means both he and Phineas (to his credit) had kept a close secret, his +clerkly origin divined and promulgated by Mo Shendish being +unquestioningly accepted, so the bets proposed by Taffy were of a +modest nature. Once he brought off a forty to one chance. Taffy rushed +to him with the news, dancing with excitement. Doggie's stoical +indifference to the winning of twenty pounds, a year's army pay, gave +him cause for great wonder. As Doggie showed similar equanimity when +he lost, Taffy put him down as a born sportsman. He began to admire +him tremendously. + +This friendship with Taffy is worth special record, for it was +indirectly the cause of a little revolution in Doggie's regimental +life. Taffy was an earnest though indifferent performer on the penny +whistle. It was his constant companion, the solace of his leisure +moments and one of the minor tortures of Doggie's existence. His +version of the _Marseillaise_ was peculiarly excruciating. + +One day, when Taffy was playing it with dreadful variations of his own +to an admiring group in the Y.M.C.A. hut, Doggie, his nerves rasped to +the raw by the false notes and maddening intervals, snatched it out of +his hand and began to play himself. Hitherto, shrinking morbidly from +any form of notoriety, he had shown no sign of musical accomplishment. +But to-day the musician's impulse was irresistible. He played the +_Marseillaise_ as no one there had heard it on penny whistle before. +The hut recognized a master's touch, for Doggie was a fine executant +musician. When he stopped there was a roar: "Go on!" Doggie went on. +They kept him whistling till the hut was crowded. + +Thenceforward he was penny-whistler, by excellence, to the battalion. +He whistled himself into quite a useful popularity. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +"We're all very proud of you, Marmaduke," said the Dean. + +"I think you're just splendid," said Peggy. + +They were sitting in Doggie's rooms in Woburn Place, Doggie having +been given his three days' leave before going to France. Once again +Durdlebury had come to Doggie and not Doggie to Durdlebury. Aunt +Sophia, however, somewhat ailing, had stayed at home. + +Doggie stood awkwardly before them, conscious of swollen hands and +broken nails, shapeless ammunition boots and ill-fitting slacks; +morbidly conscious, too, of his original failure. + +"You're about ten inches more round the chest than you were," said the +Dean admiringly. + +"And the picture of health," cried Peggy. + +"For anyone who has a sound constitution," answered Doggie, "it is +quite a healthy life." + +"Now that you've got into the way, I'm sure you must really love it," +said Peggy with an encouraging smile. + +"It isn't so bad," he replied. + +"What none of us can quite understand, my dear fellow," said the Dean, +"is your shying at Durdlebury. As we have written you, everybody's +singing your praises. Not a soul but would have given you a hearty +welcome." + +"Besides," Peggy chimed in, "you needn't have made an exhibition of +yourself in the town if you didn't want to. The poor Peddles are +woefully disappointed." + +"There's a war going on. They must bear up--like lots of other +people," replied Doggie. + +"He's becoming quite cynical," Peggy laughed. "But, apart from the +Peddles, there's your own beautiful house waiting for you. It seems so +funny not to go to it, instead of moping in these fusty lodgings." + +"Perhaps," said Doggie quietly, "if I went there I should never want +to come back." + +"There's something to be said from that point of view," the Dean +admitted. "A solution of continuity is never quite without its +dangers. Even Oliver confessed as much." + +"Oliver?" + +"Yes, didn't Peggy tell you?" + +"I didn't think Marmaduke would be interested," said Peggy quickly. +"He and Oliver have never been what you might call bosom friends." + +"I shouldn't have minded about hearing of him," said Doggie. "Why +should I? What's he doing?" + +The Dean gave information. Oliver, now a captain, had come home on +leave a month ago, and had spent some of it at the Deanery. He had +seen a good deal of fighting, and had one or two narrow escapes. + +"Was he keen to get back?" asked Doggie. + +The Dean smiled. "I instanced his case in my remark as to the dangers +of the solution of continuity." + +"Oh, rubbish, daddy," cried his daughter, with a flush, "Oliver is as +keen as mustard." The Dean made a little gesture of submission. She +continued. "He doesn't like the beastliness out there for its own +sake, any more than Marmaduke will. But he simply loves his job. He +has improved tremendously. Once he thought he was the only man in the +country who had seen Life stark naked, and he put on frills +accordingly Now that he's just one of a million who have been up +against Life stripped to its skeleton, he's a bit subdued." + +"I'm glad of that," said Doggie. + +The Dean, urbanely indulgent, joined his fingertips together and +smiled. "Peggy is right," said he, "although I don't wholly approve of +her modern lack of reticence in metaphor. Oliver is coming out true +gold from the fire. He's a capital fellow. And he spoke of you, my +dear Marmaduke, in the kindest way in the world. He has a tremendous +admiration for your pluck." + +"That's very good of him, I'm sure," said Doggie. + +Presently the Dean--good, tactful man--discovered that he must go out +and have a prescription made up at a chemist's. That arch-Hun enemy, +the gout, against which he must never be unprepared. He would be back +in time for dinner. The engaged couple were left alone. + +"Well?" said Peggy. + +"Well, dear?" said Doggie. + +Her lips invited. He responded. She drew him to the saddle-bag sofa, +and they sat down side by side. + +"I quite understand, dear old thing," she said. "I know the +resignation and the rest of it hurt you awfully. It hurt me. But it's +no use grousing over spilt milk. You've already mopped it all up. It's +no disgrace to be a private. It's an honour. There are thousands of +gentlemen in the ranks. Besides--you'll work your way up and they'll +offer you another commission in no time." + +"You're very good and sweet, dear," said Doggie, "to have such faith +in me. But I've had a year----" + +"A year!" cried Peggy. "Good lord! so it is." She counted on her +fingers. "Not quite. But eleven months. It's eleven months since I've +seen you. Do you realize that? The war has put a stop to time. It is +just one endless day." + +"One awful, endless day," Doggie acquiesced with a smile. "But I was +saying--I've had a year, or an endless day of eleven months, in which +to learn myself. And what I don't know about myself isn't knowledge." + +Peggy interrupted with a laugh. "You must be a wonder. Dad's always +preaching about self-knowledge. Tell me all about it." + +Doggie shook his head, at the same time passing his hand over it in a +familiar gesture. + +Then Peggy cried: + +"I knew there was something wrong with you. Why didn't you tell me? +You've had your hair cut--cut quite differently." + +It was McPhail, careful godfather, who had taken him as a recruit to +the regimental barber and prescribed a transformation from the sleek +long hair brushed back over the head to a conventional military crop +with a rudiment of a side parting. On the crown a few bristles stood +up as if uncertain which way to go. + +"It's advisable," Doggie replied, "for a Tommy's hair to be cut as +short as possible. The Germans are sheared like convicts." + +Peggy regarded him open-eyed and puzzle-browed. He enlightened her no +further, but pursued the main proposition. + +"I wouldn't take a commission," said he, "if the War Office went mad +and sank on its knees and beat its head in the dust before me." + +"In Heaven's name, why not?" + +"I've learned my place in the world," said Doggie. + +Peggy shook him by the shoulder and turned on him her young eager +face. + +"Your place in the world is that of a cultivated gentleman of old +family, Marmaduke Trevor of Denby Hall." + +"That was the funny old world," said he, "that stood on its legs--legs +wide apart with its hands beneath the tails of its dress-coat, in +front of the drawing-room fire. The present world's standing on its +head. Everything's upside-down. It has no sort of use for Marmaduke +Trevor of Denby Hall. No more use than for Goliath. By the way, how is +the poor little beast getting on?" + +Peggy laughed. "Oh, Goliath is perfectly assured of his position. He +has got it rammed into his mind that he drives the two-seater." She +returned to the attack. "Do you intend always to remain a private?" + +"I do," said he. "Not even a corporal. You see, I've learned to be a +private of sorts, and that satisfies my ambition." + +"Well, I give it up," said Peggy. "Though why you wouldn't let dad get +you a nice cushy job is a thing I can't understand. For the life of me +I can't." + +"I've made my bed, and I must lie on it," he said quietly. + +"I don't believe you've got such a thing as a bed." + +Doggie smiled. "Oh yes, a bed of a sort." Then noting her puzzled +face, he said consolingly: "It'll all come right when the war's over." + +"But when will that be? And who knows, my dear man, what may happen to +you?" + +"If I'm knocked out, I'm knocked out, and there's an end of it," +replied Doggie philosophically. + +She put her hand on his. "But what's to become of me?" + +"We needn't cry over my corpse yet," said Doggie. + +The Dean, after awhile, returned with his bottle of medicine, which he +displayed with conscientious ostentation. They dined. Peggy again went +over the ground of the possible commission. + +"I'm afraid she has set her heart on it, my boy," said the Dean. + +Peggy cried a little on parting. This time Doggie was going, not to +the fringe, but to the heart of the Great Adventure. Into the thick of +the carnage. A year ago, she said, through her tears, she would have +thought herself much more fitted for it than Marmaduke. + +"Perhaps you are still, dear," said Doggie, with his patient smile. + +He saw them to the taxi which was to take them to the familiar +Sturrocks's. Before getting in, Peggy embraced him. + +"Keep out of the way of shells and bullets as much as you can." + +The Dean blew his nose, God-blessed him, and murmured something +incoherent about fighting for the glory of old England. + +"Good luck," cried Peggy from the window. + +She blew him a kiss. The taxi drove off, and Doggie went back into the +house with leaden feet. The meeting, which he had morbidly dreaded, +had brought him no comfort. It had not removed the invisible barrier +between Peggy and himself. But Peggy seemed so unconscious of it that +he began to wonder whether it only existed in his diseased +imagination. Though by his silences and reserves he had given her +cause for resentment and reproach, her attitude was nothing less than +angelic. He sat down moodily in an arm-chair, his hands deep in his +trousers pockets and his legs stretched out. The fault lay in himself, +he argued. What was the matter with him? He seemed to have lost all +human feeling, like the man with the stone heart in the old legend. +Otherwise, why had he felt no prick of jealousy at Peggy's admiring +comprehension of Oliver? Of course he loved her. Of course he wanted +to marry her when this nightmare was over. That went without saying. +But why couldn't he look to the glowing future? A poet had called a +lover's mistress "the lode-star of his one desire." That to him Peggy +ought to be. Lode-star. One desire. The words confused him. He had no +lode-star. His one desire was to be left alone. Without doubt he was +suffering from some process of moral petrifaction. + +Doggie was no psychologist. He had never acquired the habit of turning +himself inside-out and gloating over the horrid spectacle. All his +life he had been a simple soul with simple motives and a simple though +possibly selfish standard to measure them. But now his soul was +knocked into a chaotic state of complexity, and his poor little +standards were no manner of use. He saw himself as in a glass darkly, +mystified by unknown change. + +He rose, sighed, shook himself. + +"I give it up," said he, and went to bed. + + * * * * * + +Doggie went to France; a France hitherto undreamed of, either by him +or by any young Englishman; a France clean swept and garnished for +war; a France, save for the ubiquitous English soldiery, of silent +towns and empty villages and deserted roads; a France of smiling +fields and sorrowful faces of women and drawn patient faces of old +men--and even then the women and old men were rarely met by day, for +they were at work on the land, solitary figures on the landscape, with +vast spaces between them. In the quiet townships, English street signs +and placards conflicted with the sense of being in friendly provincial +France, and gave the impression of foreign domination. For beyond that +long grim line of eternal thunder, away over there in the distance, +which was called the Front, street signs and placards in yet another +alien tongue also outraged the serene genius of French urban life. Yet +our signs were a symbol of a mighty Empire's brotherhood, and the +dimmed eyes that beheld the _Place de la Fontaine_ transformed into +"Holborn Circus," and the _Grande Rue_ into "Piccadilly," smiled, and +the owners, with eager courtesy, directed the stray Tommy to "Regent +Street," which they had known all their life as the _Rue +Feuillemaisnil_--a word which Tommy could not pronounce, still less +remember. It was as much as Tommy could do to get hold of an +approximation to the name of the town. And besides these renamings, +other inscriptions flamed about the streets; alphabetical hieroglyphs, +in which the mystic letters H.Q. most often appeared; "This way to the +Y.M.C.A. hut"; in many humble windows the startling announcement, +"Washing done here." British motor-lorries and ambulances crowding the +little _place_ and aligned along the avenues. British faces, British +voices, everywhere. The blue uniform and blue helmet of a French +soldier seemed as incongruous though as welcome as in London. + +And the straight endless roads, so French with their infinite border +of poplars, their patient little stones marking every hundred metres +until the tenth rose into the proud kilometre stone proclaiming the +distance to the next stately town, rang too with the sound of British +voices, and the tramp of British feet, and the clatter of British +transport, and the screech and whir of cars, revealing as they passed +the flash of red and gold of the British staff. Yet the finely +cultivated land remained to show that it was France; and the little +whitewashed villages; the cure, in shovel-hat and rusty cassock; the +children in blue or black blouses, who stared as the British troops +went by; the patient, elderly French Territorials in their old pre-war +uniforms, guarding unthreatened culverts or repairing the roads; the +helpful signs set up in happier days by the Touring Club of France. + +Into this strange anomaly of a land came Doggie with his draft, still +half stupefied by the remorselessness of the stupendous machine in +which he had been caught, in spite of his many months of training in +England. He had loathed the East Coast camp. When he landed at +Boulogne in the dark and the pouring rain and hunched his pack with +the others who went off singing to the rest camp, he regretted East +Anglia. + +"Give us a turn on the whistle, Doggie," said a corporal. + +"I was sea-sick into it and threw it overboard," he growled, stumbling +over the rails of the quay. + +"Oh, you holy young liar!" said the man next him. + +But Doggie did not trouble to reply, his neighbour being only a +private like himself. + +Then the draft joined its unit. In his youth Doggie had often wondered +at the meaning of the familiar inscription on every goods van in +France: "40 Hommes. 8 Chevaux." Now he ceased to wonder. He was one of +the forty men.... At the rail-head he began to march, and at last +joined the remnant of his battalion. They had been through hard +fighting, and were now in billets. Until he joined them he had not +realized the drain there had been on the reserves at home. Very many +familiar faces of officers were missing. New men had taken their +place. And very many of his old comrades had gone, some to Blighty, +some West of that Island of Desire; and those who remained had the +eyes of children who had passed through the Valley of the Shadow of +Death. + +McPhail and Mo Shendish had passed through unscathed. In the +reconstruction of the regiment chance willed that the three of them +found themselves in the same platoon of A Company. Doggie almost +embraced them when they met. + +"Laddie," said McPhail to him, as he was drinking a mahogany-coloured +liquid that was known by the name of tea, out of a tin mug, and eating +a hunk of bread and jam, "I don't know whether or not I'm pleased to +see you. You were safer in England. Once I misspent many months of my +life in shielding you from the dangers of France. But France is a much +more dangerous place nowadays, and I can't help you. You've come right +into the thick of it. Just listen to the hell's delight that's going +on over yonder." + +The easterly wind brought them the roar streaked with stridence of the +artillery duel in progress on the nearest sector of the Front. + +They were sitting in the cellar entrance to a house in a little town +which had already been somewhat mauled. Just opposite was a shuttered +house on the ground floor of which had been a hatter and hosier's +shop, and there still swung bravely on an iron rod the red brim of +what once had been a monstrous red hat. Next door, the facade of the +upper stories had been shelled away and the naked interiors gave the +impression of a pathetic doll's house. Women's garments still hung on +pegs. A cottage piano lurched forward drunkenly on three legs, with +the keyboard ripped open, the treble notes on the ground, the bass +incongruously in the air. In the attic, ironically secure, hung a +cheap German print of blowsy children feeding a pig. The wide +flagstoned street smelt sour. At various cavern doors sat groups of +the billeted soldiers. Now and then squads marched up and down, +monotonously clad in khaki and dun-coloured helmets. Officers, some +only recognizable by the Sam Browne belt, others spruce and +point-device, passed by. Here and there a shop was open, and the +elderly proprietor and his wife stood by the doorway to get the +afternoon air. Women and children straggled rarely through the +streets. The Boche had left the little town alone for some time; they +had other things to do with their heavy guns; and all the French +population, save those whose homes were reduced to nothingness, had +remained. They took no notice of the distant bombardment. It had grown +to be a phenomenon of nature like the wind and the rain. + +But to Doggie it was new--just as the sight of the wrecked house +opposite, with its sturdy crownless hat-brim of a sign, was new. He +listened, as McPhail had bidden him, to the artillery duel with an odd +little spasm of his heart. + +"What do you think of that, now?" asked McPhail grandly, as if it was +The Greatest Show on Earth run by him, the Proprietor. + +"It's rather noisy," said Doggie, with a little ironical twist of his +lips that was growing habitual. "Do they keep it up at night?" + +"They do." + +"I don't think it's fair to interfere with one's sleep like that," +said Doggie. + +"You've got to adapt yourself to it," said McPhail sagely. "No doubt +you'll be remembering my theory of adaptability. Through that I've +made myself into a very brave man. When I wanted to run away--a very +natural desire, considering the scrupulous attention I've always paid +to my bodily well-being--I reflected on the preposterous obstacles put +in the way of flight by a bowelless military system, and adapted +myself to the static and dynamic conditions of the trenches." + +"Gorblime!" said Mo Shendish, stretched out by his side, "just listen +to him!" + +"I suppose you'll say you sucked honey out of the shells," remarked +Doggie. + +"I'm no great hand at mixing metaphors----" + +"What about drinks?" asked Mo. + +"Nor drinks either," replied McPhail. "Both are bad for the brain. But +as to what you were saying, laddie, I'll not deny that I've derived +considerable interest and amusement from a bombardment. Yet it has its +sad aspect." He paused for a moment or two. "Man," he continued, "what +an awful waste of money!" + +"I don't know what old Mac is jawing about," said Mo Shendish, "but +you can take it from me he's a holy terror with the bayonet. One +moment he's talking to a Boche through his hat and the next the Boche +is wriggling like a worm on a bent pin." + +Mo winked at Phineas. The temptation to "tell the tale" to the +new-comer was too strong. + +Doggie grew very serious. "You've been killing men--like that?" + +"Thousands, laddie," replied Phineas, the picture of unboastful +veracity. "And so has Mo." + +Mo Shendish, helmeted, browned, dried, toughened, a very different Mo +from the pallid ferret whom Aggie had driven into the ranks of war, +hunched himself up, his hands clasping his knees. + +"I don't mind doing it, when you're so excited you don't know where +you are," said he, "but I don't like thinking of it afterwards." + +As a matter of fact, he had only once got home with the bayonet and +the memory was unpleasant. + +"But you've just thought of it," said Phineas. + +"It was you, not me," said Mo. "That makes all the difference." + +"It's astonishing," Phineas remarked sententiously, "how many people +not only refuse to catch pleasure as it flies, but spurn it when it +sits up and begs at them. Laddie," he turned to Doggie, "the more one +wallows in hedonism, the more one realizes its unplumbed depths." + +A little girl of ten, neatly pigtailed but piteously shod, came near +and cast a child's envious eye on Doggie's bread and jam. + +"Approach, my little one," Phineas cried in French words but with the +accent of Sauchiehall Street. "If I gave you a franc, what would you +do with it?" + +"I should buy nourishment (_de la nourriture_) for _maman_." + +"Lend me a franc, laddie," said McPhail, and when Doggie had slipped +the coin into his palm, he addressed the child in unintelligible +grandiloquence and sent her on her way mystified but rejoicing. _Ces +bons droles d'Anglais!_ + +"Ah, laddie!" cried Phineas, stretching himself out comfortably by the +jamb of the door, "you've got to learn to savour the exquisite +pleasure of a genuinely kindly act." + +"Hold on!" cried Mo. "It was Doggie's money you were flinging about." + +McPhail withered him with a glance. + +"You're an unphilosophical ignoramus," said he. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Perhaps one of the greatest influences which transformed Doggie into a +fairly efficient though undistinguished infantryman was a morbid +social terror of his officers. It saved him from many a guard-room, +and from many a heart-to-heart talk wherein the zealous lieutenant +gets to know his men. He lived in dread lest military delinquency or +civil accomplishment should be the means of revealing the disgrace +which bit like an acid into his soul. His undisguisable air of +superior breeding could not fail to attract notice. Often his officers +asked him what he was in civil life. His reply, "A clerk, sir," had to +satisfy them. He had developed a curious self-protective faculty of +shutting himself up like a hedgehog at the approach of danger. Once a +breezy subaltern had selected him as his batman; but Doggie's +agonized, "It would be awfully good of you, sir, if you wouldn't mind +not thinking of it," and the appeal in his eyes, established the +freemasonry of caste and saved him from dreaded intimate relations. + +"All right, if you'd rather not, Trevor," said the subaltern. "But why +doesn't a chap like you try for a commission?" + +"I'm much happier as I am, sir," replied Doggie, and that was the end +of the matter. + +But Phineas, when he heard of it--it was on the East Coast--began: "If +you still consider yourself too fine to clean another man's boots----" + +Doggie, in one of his quick fits of anger, interrupted: "If you think +I'm just a dirty little snob, if you don't understand why I begged to +be let off, you're the thickest-headed fool in creation!" + +"I'm nae that, laddie," replied Phineas, with his usual ironic +submissiveness. "Haven't I kept your secret all this time?" + +Thus it was Doggie's fixed idea to lose himself in the locust swarm, +to be prominent neither for good nor evil, even in the little clot of +fifty, outwardly, almost identical locusts that formed his platoon. It +braced him to the performance of hideous tasks; it restrained him from +display of superior intellectual power or artistic capability. The +world upheaval had thrown him from his peacock and ivory room, with +its finest collection on earth of little china dogs, into a horrible +fetid hole in the ground in Northern France. It had thrown not the +average young Englishman of comfortable position, who had toyed with +aesthetic superficialities as an amusement, but a poor little +by-product of cloistered life who had been brought up from babyhood to +regard these things as the nervous texture of his very existence. He +was wrapped from head to heel in fine net, to every tiny mesh of which +he was acutely sensitive. + +A hole in the ground in Northern France. The regiment, after its rest, +moved on and took its turn in the trenches. Four days on; four days +off. Four days on of misery inconceivable. Four days on, during which +the officers watched the men with the unwavering vigilance of kindly +cats: + +"How are you getting along, Trevor?" + +"Nicely, thank you, sir." + +"Feet all right?" + +"Yes, thank you, sir." + +"Sure? If you want to grouse, grouse away. That's what I'm talking to +you for." + +"I'm perfectly happy, sir." + +"Darn sight more than I am!" laughed the subaltern, and with a cheery +nod in acknowledgment of Doggie's salute, splashed down the muddy +trench. + +But Doggie was chilled to the bone, and he had no feeling in his feet, +which were under six inches of water, and his woollen gloves being wet +through were useless, and prevented his numbed hands from feeling the +sandbags with which he and the rest of the platoon were repairing the +parapet; for the Germans had just consecrated an hour's general hate +to the vicinity of the trench, and its exquisite symmetry, the pride +of the platoon commander, had been disturbed. There had also been a +few ghastly casualties. A shell had fallen and burst in the traverse +at the far end of the trench. Something that looked like half a man's +head and a bit of shoulder had dropped just in front of the dug-out +where Doggie and his section was sheltering. Doggie staring at it was +violently sick. In a stupefied way he found himself mingling with +others who were engaged in clearing up the horror. A murmur reached +him that it was Taffy Jones who had thus been dismembered.... The +bombardment over, he had taken his place with the rest in the +reparation of the parapet; and as he happened to be at an end of the +line, the officer had spoken to him. If he had been suffering tortures +unknown to Attila, and unimagined by his successors, he would have +answered just the same. + + * * * * * + +But he lamented Taffy's death to Phineas, who listened +sympathetically. Such a cheery comrade, such a smart soldier, such a +kindly soul. + +"Not a black spot in him," said Doggie. + +"A year ago, laddie," said McPhail, "what would have been your opinion +of a bookmaker's clerk?" + +"I know," replied Doggie. "But this isn't a year ago. Just look +round." + +He laughed somewhat hysterically, for the fate of Taffy had unstrung +him for the time. Phineas contemplated the length of deep narrow +ditch, with its planks half swimming on filthy liquid, its wire +revetment holding up the oozing sides, the dingy parapet above which +it was death to put one's head, the grey free sky, the only thing free +along that awful row of parallel ditches that stretched from the +Belgian coast to Switzerland, the clay-covered, shapeless figures of +men, their fellows, almost undistinguishable even by features from +themselves. + +"It has been borne upon me lately," said Phineas, "that patriotism is +an amazing virtue." + +Doggie drew a foot out of the mud so as to find a less precarious +purchase higher up the slope. + +"And I've been thinking, Phineas, whether it's really patriotism that +has brought you and me into this--what can we call it? Dante's Inferno +is child's play to it." + +"Dante had no more imagination," said Phineas, "than a Free Kirk +precentor in Kirkcudbright." + +"But is it patriotism?" Doggie persisted. "If I thought it was, I +should be happier. If we had orders to go over the top and attack and +I could shout 'England for ever!' and lose myself just in the thick of +it----" + +"There's a brass hat coming down the trench," said Phineas, "and brass +hats have no use for rhapsodical privates." + +They stood to attention as the staff officer passed by. Then Doggie +broke in impatiently: + +"I wish to goodness you could understand what I'm trying to get at." + +A smile illuminated the gaunt, unshaven, mud-caked face of Phineas +McPhail. + +"Laddie," said he, "let England, as an abstraction, fend for itself. +But you've a bonny English soul within you, and for that you are +fighting. And so had poor Taffy Jones. And I have a bonny Scottish +thirst, the poignancy of which both of you have been happily spared. I +will leave you, laddie, to seek in slumber a surcease from martyrdom." + + * * * * * + +Doggie had been out a long time. He had seen many places, much +fighting and endured manifold miseries. After one of the spells in the +trenches, the worst he had experienced, A Company was marched into new +billets some miles behind the lines, in the once prosperous village of +Frelus. They had slouched along dead tired, drooping under their +packs, sodden with mud and sleeplessness, silent, with not a note of a +song among them--but at the entrance to the village, quickened by a +word or two of exhortation from officers and sergeants, they pulled +themselves together and marched in, heads up, forward, in faultless +step. The C.O. was jealous of the honour of his men. He assumed that +his predecessors in the village had been a "rotten lot," and was +determined to show the inhabitants of Frelus what a crack English +regiment was really like. Frelus was an unimportant, unheard-of +village; but the opinion of a thousand Freluses made up France's +opinion of the British Army. Doggie, although half stupefied with +fatigue, responded to the sentiment, like the rest. He was conscious +of making part of a gallant show. It was only when they halted and +stood easy that he lost count of things. The wide main street of the +village swam characterless before his eyes. He followed, not +directions, but directed men, with a sheep-like instinct, and found +himself stumbling through an archway down a narrow path. He had a dim +consciousness of lurching sideways and confusedly apologizing to a +woman who supported him back to equilibrium. Then the next thing he +saw was a barn full of fresh straw, and when somebody pointed to a +vacant strip, he fell down, with many others, and went to sleep. + +The reveille sounded a minute afterwards, though a whole night had +passed; and there was the blessed clean water to wash in--he had long +since ceased to be fastidious in his ablutions--and there was +breakfast, sizzling bacon and bread and jam. And there in front of the +kitchen, aiding with the hot water for the tea, moved a slim girl, +with dark, and as Doggie thought, tragic eyes. + + * * * * * + +Kit inspection, feet inspection, all the duties of the day and dinner +were over. Most of the men returned to their billets to sleep. Some, +including Doggie, wandered about the village, taking the air, and +visiting the little modest cafes and talking with indifferent +success, so far as the interchange of articulate ideas was concerned, +with shy children. McPhail and Mo Shendish being among the sleepers, +Doggie mooned about by himself in his usual self-effacing way. There +was little to interest him in the long straggling village. He had +passed through a hundred such. Low whitewashed houses, interspersed +with perky balconied buildings given over to little shops on the +ground floor, with here and there a discreet iron gate shutting off +the doctor's or the attorney's villa, and bearing the oval plate +indicating the name and pursuit of the tenant; here and there, too, +long whitewashed walls enclosing a dairy or a timber-yard stretched on +each side of the great high road, and the village gradually dwindled +away at each end into the gently undulating country. There were just a +by-lane or two, one leading up to the little grey church and +presbytery and another to the little cemetery with its trim paths and +black and white wooden crosses and wirework pious offerings. At open +doors the British soldiers lounged at ease, and in the dim interiors +behind them the forms of the women of the house, blue-aproned, moved +to and fro. The early afternoon was warm, a westerly breeze deadened +the sound of the distant bombardment to an unheeded drone, and a holy +peace settled over the place. + +Doggie, clean, refreshed, comfortably drowsy, having explored the +village, returned to his billet, and looking at it from the opposite +side of the way, for the first time realized its nature. The lane, +into which he had stumbled the night before, ran under an archway +supporting some kind of overhead chamber, and separated the +dwelling-house from a warehouse wall on which vast letters proclaimed +the fact that Veuve Morin et Fils carried on therein the business of +hay and corn dealers. Hence, Doggie reflected, the fresh, deep straw +on which he and his fortunate comrades had wallowed. The double gate +under the archway was held back by iron stanchions. The two-storied +house looked fairly large and comfortable. The front door stood wide +open, giving the view of a neat, stiff little hall or living-room. An +article of furniture caught his idle eye. He crossed the road in order +to have a nearer view. It was a huge polished mahogany cask standing +about three feet high and bound with shining brass bands, such as he +remembered having seen once in Brittany. He advanced still closer, and +suddenly the slim, dark girl appeared and stood in the doorway, and +looked frankly and somewhat rebukingly into his inquisitive eyes. +Doggie flushed as one caught in an unmannerly act. A crying fault of +the British Army is that it prescribes for the rank and file no form +of polite recognition of the existence of civilians. It is contrary to +Army Orders to salute or to take off their caps. They can only jerk +their heads and grin, an inelegant proceeding, which places them at a +disadvantage with the fair sex. Doggie, therefore, sketched a vague +salutation half-way between a salute and a bow, and began a profuse +apology. Mademoiselle must pardon his curiosity, but as a lover of old +things he had been struck by the beautiful _tonneau_. + +An amused light came into her sombre eyes and a smile flickered round +her lips. Doggie noted instantly how pale she was, and how tiny, faint +little lines persisted at the corners of those lips in spite of the +smile. + +"There is no reason for excuses, monsieur," she said. "The door was +open to the view of everybody." + +"_Pourtant_," said Doggie, "_c'etait un peu mal eleve_." + +She laughed. "Pardon. But it's droll. First to find an English soldier +apologizing for looking into a house, and then to find him talking +French like a _poilu_." + +Doggie said, with a little touch of national jealousy and a reversion +to Durdlebury punctilio: "I hope, mademoiselle, you have always found +the English soldier conduct himself like a gentleman." + +"_Mais oui, mais oui!_" she cried, "they are all charming. _Ils sont +doux comme des moutons._ But this is a question of delicacy--somewhat +exaggerated." + +"It's good of you, mademoiselle, to forgive me," said Doggie. + +By all the rules of polite intercourse, either Doggie should have made +his bow and exit, or the maiden, exercising her prerogative, should +have given him the opportunity of a graceful withdrawal. But they +remained where they were, the girl framed by the doorway, the lithe +little figure in khaki and lichen-coloured helmet looking up at her +from the foot of the two front steps. + +At last he said in some embarrassment: "That's a very beautiful cask +of yours." + +She wavered for a few seconds. Then she said: + +"You can enter, monsieur, and examine it, if you like." + +Mademoiselle was very amiable, said Doggie. Mademoiselle moved aside +and Doggie entered, taking off his helmet and holding it under his arm +like an opera-hat. There was nothing much to see in the little +vestibule-parlour: a stiff tasselled chair or two, a great old +linen-press taking up most of one side of a wall, a cheap table +covered with a chenille tablecloth, and the resplendent old cask, +about which he lingered. He mentioned Brittany. Her tragic face +lighted up again. Monsieur was right. Her aunt, Madame Morin, was +Breton, and had brought the cask with her as part of her dowry, +together with the press and other furniture. Doggie alluded to the +vastly lettered inscription, "Veuve Morin et Fils." Madame Morin was, +in a sense, his hostess. And the sons? + +"One is in Madagascar, and the other--alas, monsieur!" + +And Doggie knew what that "alas!" meant. + +"The Argonne," she said. + +"And madame your aunt?" + +She shrugged her thin though shapely shoulders. "It nearly killed her. +She is old and an invalid. She has been in bed for the last three +weeks." + +"Then what becomes of the business?" + +"It is I, monsieur, who am the business. And I know nothing about it." +She sighed. Then with her blue apron--otherwise she was dressed in +unrelieved black--she rubbed an imaginary speck from the brass banding +of the cask. "This, I suppose you know, was for the best brandy, +monsieur." + +"And now?" he asked. + +"A memory. A sentiment. A thing of beauty." + +In a feminine way, which he understood, she herded him to the door, by +way of dismissal. Durdlebury helped him. A tiny French village has as +many slanderous tongues as an English cathedral city. He was preparing +to take polite leave, when she looked swiftly at him and made the +faintest gesture of a detaining hand. + +"Now I remember. It was you who nearly fell into me last night, when +you were entering through the gate." + +The dim recollection came back--the firm woman's arm round him for the +few tottering seconds. + +"It seems I am always bound to be impolite, for I don't think I +thanked you," smiled Doggie. + +"You were at the end of your tether." Then very gently, "_Pauvre +garcon!_" + +"The _sales Boches_ had kept us awake for four nights," said Doggie. +"That was why." + +"And you are rested now?" + +He laughed. "Almost." + +They were at the door. He looked out and drew back. A knot of men were +gathered by the gate of the yard. Apparently she had seen them too, +for a flush rose to her pale cheeks. + +"Mademoiselle," said Doggie, "I should like to creep back to the barn +and sleep. If I pass my comrades they'll want to detain me." + +"That would be a pity," she said demurely. "Come this way, monsieur." + +She led him through a room and a passage to the kitchen. They shared a +pleasurable sense of adventure and secrecy. At the kitchen door she +paused and spoke to an old woman chopping up vegetables. + +"Toinette, let monsieur pass." To Doggie she said: "Au revoir, +monsieur!" and disappeared. + +The old woman looked at him at first with disfavour. She did not hold +with Tommies needlessly tramping over the clean flags of her kitchen. +But Doggie's polite apology for disturbing her and a youthful grace of +manner--he still held his tin hat under his arm--caused her features +to relax. + +"You are English?" + +With a smile, he indicated his uniform. "Why, yes, madame." + +"How comes it, then, that you speak French?" + +"Because I have always loved your beautiful France, madame." + +"France--_ah! la pauvre France_!" She sighed, drew a wisp of what had +been a cornet of snuff from her pocket, opened it, dipped in a +tentative finger and thumb and, finding it empty, gazed at it with +disappointment, sighed again and, with the methodical hopelessness of +age, folded it up into the neatest of little squares and thrust it +back in her pocket. Then she went on with her vegetables. + +Doggie took his leave and emerged into the yard. + +He dozed pleasantly on the straw of the barn, but it was not the dead +sleep of the night. Bits of his recent little adventure fitted into +the semi-conscious intervals. He heard the girl's voice saying so +gently: "_Pauvre garcon!_" and it was very comforting. + +He was finally aroused by Phineas and Mo Shendish, who, having slept +like tired dogs some distance off down the barn, now desired his +company for a stroll round the village. Doggie good-naturedly +assented. As they passed the house door he cast a quick glance. It was +open, but the slim figure in black with the blue apron was not visible +within. The shining cask, however, seemed to smile a friendly +greeting. + +"If you believed the London papers," said Phineas, "you'd think that +the war-worn soldier coming from the trenches is met behind the lines +with luxurious Turkish baths, comfortable warm canteens, picture +palaces and theatrical entertainments. Can you perceive here any of +those amenities of modern warfare?" + +They looked around them, and admitted they could not. + +"Apparently," said Phineas, "the Colonel, good but limited man, has +missed all the proper places and dumps us in localities unrecognized +by the London Press." + +"Put me on the pier at Brighton," sang Mo Shendish. "But I'd sooner +have Margit or Yarmouth any day. Brighton's too toffish for whelks. +My! and cockles! I wonder whether we shall ever eat 'em again." A +far-away, dreamy look crept into his eyes. + +"Does your young lady like cockles?" Doggie asked sympathetically. + +"Aggie? Funny thing, I was just thinking of her. She fair dotes on +'em. We had a day at Southend just before the war----" + +He launched into anecdote. His companions listened, Phineas ironically +carrying out his theory of adaptability, Doggie with finer instinct. +It appeared there had been an altercation over right of choice with an +itinerant vendor in which, to Aggie's admiration, Mo had come off +triumphant. + +"You see," he explained, "being in the fish trade myself, I could spot +the winners." + +James Marmaduke Trevor, of Denby Hall, laughed and slapped him on the +back, and said indulgently: "Good old Mo!" + +At the little school-house they stopped to gossip with some of their +friends who were billeted there, and they sang the praises of the +Veuve Morin's barn. + +"I wonder you don't have the house full of orficers, if it's so +wonderful," said some one. + +An omniscient corporal in the confidence of the quartermaster +explained that the landlady being ill in bed, and the place run by a +young girl, the house had been purposely missed. Doggie drew a breath +of relief at the news and attributed Madame Morin's malady to the +intervention of a kindly providence. Somehow he did not fancy officers +having the run of the house. + +They strolled on and came to a forlorn little _Debit de Tabac_, +showing in its small window some clay pipes and a few fly-blown +picture post-cards. Now Doggie, in spite of his training in adversity, +had never resigned himself to "Woodbines," and other such brands +supplied to the British Army, and Egyptian and Turkish being beyond +his social pale, he had taken to smoking French Regie tobacco, of +which he laid in a stock whenever he had the chance. So now he entered +the shop, leaving Phineas and Mo outside. As they looked on French +cigarettes with sturdy British contempt, they were not interested in +Doggie's purchases. A wan girl of thirteen rose from behind the +counter. + +"_Vous desirez, monsieur?_" + +Doggie stated his desire. The girl was calculating the price of the +packets before wrapping them up, when his eyes fell upon a neat little +pile of cornets in a pigeon-hole at the back. They directly suggested +to him one of the great luminous ideas of his life. It was only +afterwards that he realized its effulgence. For the moment he was +merely concerned with the needs of a poor old woman who had sighed +lamentably over an empty paper of comfort. + +"Do you sell snuff?" + +"But yes, monsieur." + +"Give me some of the best quality." + +"How much does monsieur desire?" + +"A lot," said Doggie. + +And he bought a great package, enough to set the whole village +sneezing to the end of the war, and peering round the tiny shop and +espying in the recesses of a glass case a little olive-wood box +ornamented on the top with pansies and forget-me-nots, purchased that +also. He had just paid when his companions put their heads in the +doorway. Mo, pointing waggishly to Doggie, warned the little girl +against his depravity. + +"Mauvy, mauvy!" said he. + +"_Qu'est-ce qu'il dit?_" asked the child. + +"He's the idiot of the regiment, whom I have to look after and feed +with pap," said Doggie, "and, being hungry, he is begging you not to +detain me." + +"_Mon Dieu!_" cried the child. + +Doggie, always courteous, went out with a "_Bon soir, mademoiselle_," +and joined his friends. + +"What were you jabbering to her about?" Mo asked suspiciously. + +Doggie gave him the literal translation of his speech. Phineas burst +into loud laughter. + +"Laddie," said he, "I've never heard you make a joke before. The idiot +of the regiment, and you're his keeper! Man, that's fine. What has +come over you to-day?" + +"If he'd said a thing like that in Mare Street, Hackney, I'd have +knocked his blinking 'ead orf," declared Mo Shendish. + +Doggie stopped and put his parcel-filled hands behind his back. + +"Have a try now, Mo." + +But Mo bade him fry his ugly face, and thus established harmony. + +It was late that evening before Doggie could find an opportunity of +slipping, unobserved, through the open door into the house kitchen +dimly illuminated by an oil lamp. + +"Madame," said he to Toinette, "I observed to-day that you had come to +the end of your snuff. Will you permit a little English soldier to +give you some? Also a little box to keep it in." + +The old woman, spare, myriad-wrinkled beneath her peasant's _coiffe_, +yet looking as if carved out of weather-beaten oak, glanced from the +gift to the donor and from the donor to the gift. + +"But, monsieur--monsieur--why?" she began quaveringly. + +"You surely have some one--_la bas_--over yonder?" said Doggie with +a sweep of his hand. + +"_Mais oui?_ How did you know? My grandson. _Mon petiot_----" + +"It is he, my comrade, who sends the snuff to the _grand'mere_." And +Doggie bolted. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +At breakfast next morning Doggie searched the courtyard in vain for +the slim figure of the girl. Yesterday she had stood just outside the +kitchen door. To-day her office was usurped by a hefty cook with the +sleeves of his grey shirt rolled up and his collar open and vast and +tight-hitched braces unromantically strapped all over him. Doggie felt +a pang of disappointment and abused the tea. Mo Shendish stared, and +asked what was wrong with it. + +"Rotten," said Doggie. + +"You can't expect yer slap-up City A.B.C. shops in France," said Mo. + +Doggie, who was beginning to acquire a sense of rueful humour, smiled +and was appeased. + +It was only in the afternoon that he saw the girl again. She was +standing in the doorway of the house, with her hand on her bosom, as +though she had just come out to breathe fresh air, when Doggie and his +two friends emerged from the yard. As their eyes met, she greeted him +with her sad little smile. Emboldened, he stepped forward. + +"_Bon jour, mademoiselle._" + +"_Bon jour, monsieur._" + +"I hope madame your aunt is better to-day." + +She seemed to derive some dry amusement from his solicitude. + +"Alas, no, monsieur." + +"Was that why I had not the pleasure of seeing you this morning?" + +"Where?" + +"Yesterday you filled our tea-kettles." + +"But, monsieur," she replied primly, "I am not the _vivandiere_ of +the regiment." + +"That's a pity," laughed Doggie. + +Then he became aware of the adjacent forms and staring eyes of Phineas +and Mo, who for the first time in their military career beheld him on +easy terms with a strange and prepossessing young woman. After a +second's thought he came to a diplomatic decision. + +"Mademoiselle," said he, in his best Durdlebury manner, "may I dare to +present my two comrades, my best friends in the battalion, Monsieur +McPhail, Monsieur Shendish?" + +She made them each a little formal bow, and then, somewhat +maliciously, addressing McPhail, as the bigger and the elder of the +two: + +"I don't yet know the name of your friend." + +Phineas put his great hand on Doggie's shoulder. + +"James Marmaduke Trevor." + +"Otherwise called Doggie, miss," said Mo. + +She made a little graceful gesture of non-comprehension. + +"_Non compree?_" asked Mo. + +"No, monsieur." + +Phineas explained, in his rasping and consciously translated French: + +"It is a nickname of the regiment. Doggie." + +The flushed and embarrassed subject of the discussion saw her lips +move silently to the word. + +"But his name is Trevor. Monsieur Trevor," said Phineas. + +She smiled again. And the strange thing about her smile was that it +was a matter of her lips and rarely of her eyes, which always +maintained the haunting sadness of their tragic depths. + +"Monsieur Trevor," she repeated imitatively. "And yours, monsieur?" + +"McPhail." + +"Mac-Fele; _c'est assez difficile_. And yours?" + +Mo guessed. "Shendish," said he. + +She repeated that also, whereat Mo grinned fatuously, showing his +little yellow teeth beneath his scrubby red moustache. + +"My friends call me Mo," said he. + +She grasped his meaning. "Mo," she said; and she said it so funnily +and softly, and with ever so little a touch of quizzicality, that the +sentimental warrior roared with delight. + +"You've got it right fust time, miss." + +From her two steps' height of vantage, she looked down on the three +upturned British faces--and her eyes went calmly from one to the +other. + +She turned to Doggie. "One would say, monsieur, that you were the +Three Musketeers." + +"Possibly, mademoiselle," laughed Doggie. He had not felt so +light-hearted for many months. "But we lack a d'Artagnan." + +"When you find him, bring him to me," said the girl. + +"Mademoiselle," said Phineas gallantly, "we would not be such +imbeciles." + +At that moment the voice of Toinette came from within. + +"Ma'amselle Jeanne! Ma'amselle Jeanne!" + +"_Oui, oui, j'y viens_," she cried. "_Bon soir, messieurs_," and she +was gone. + +Doggie looked into the empty vestibule and smiled at the friendly +brandy cask. Provided it is pronounced correctly, so as to rhyme with +the English "Anne," it is a very pretty name. Doggie thought she +looked like Jeanne--a Jeanne d'Arc of this modern war. + +"Yon's a very fascinating lassie," Phineas remarked soberly, as they +started on their stroll. "Did you happen to observe that all the time +she was talking so prettily she was looking at ghosts behind us?" + +"Do you think so?" asked Doggie, startled. + +"Man, I know it," replied Phineas. + +"Ghosts be blowed!" cried Mo Shendish. "She's a bit of orl right, she is. +What I call class. Doesn't chuck 'erself at yer 'ead, like some of 'em, +and, on the other 'and, has none of yer blooming stand-orfishness. See +what I mean?" He clutched them each by an arm--he was between them. +"Look 'ere. How do you think I could pick up this blinking +lingo--quick?" + +"Make violent love to Toinette and ask her to teach you. There's +nothing like it," said Doggie. + +"Who's Toinette?" + +"The nice old lady in the kitchen." + +Mo flung his arm away. "Oh, go and boil yourself!" said he. + + * * * * * + +But the making of love to the old woman in the kitchen led to +possibilities of which Mo Shendish never dreamed. They never dawned on +Doggie until he found himself at it that evening. + +It was dusk. The men were lounging and smoking about the courtyard. +Doggie, who had long since exchanged poor Taffy Jones's imperfect +penny whistle for a scientific musical instrument ordered from Bond +Street, was playing, with his sensitive skill, the airs they loved. He +had just finished "Annie Laurie"--"Man," Phineas used to declare, +"when Doggie Trevor plays 'Annie Laurie,' he has the power to take +your heart by the strings and drag it out through your eyes"--he had +just come to the end of this popular and gizzard-piercing tune and +received his meed of applause, when Toinette came out of the kitchen, +two great zinc crocks in her hands, and crossed to the pump in the +corner of the yard. Three or four would-be pumpers, among them Doggie, +went to her aid. + +"All right, mother, we'll see to it," said one of them. + +So they pumped and filled the crocks, and one man got hold of one and +Doggie got hold of another, and they carried them to the kitchen +steps. + +"_Merci, monsieur_," said Toinette to the first; and he went away with +a friendly nod. But to Doggie she said, "_Entrez, monsieur_." And +monsieur carried the two crocks over the threshold and Toinette shut +the door behind him. And there, sitting over some needlework in a +corner of the kitchen by a lamp, sat Jeanne. + +She looked up rather startled, frowned for the brief part of a second, +and regarded him inquiringly. + +"I brought in monsieur to show him the photograph of _mon petiot_, the +comrade who sent me the snuff," explained Toinette, rummaging in a +cupboard. + +"May I stay and look at it?" asked Doggie, buttoning up his tunic. + +"_Mais parfaitement, monsieur_," said Jeanne. "It is Toinette's +kitchen." + +"_Bien sur_," said the old woman, turning with the photograph, that +of a solid young infantryman. Doggie made polite remarks. Toinette put +on a pair of silver-rimmed spectacles and scanned the picture. Then +she handed it to Jeanne. + +"Don't you think there is a great deal of resemblance?" + +Jeanne directed a comparing glance at Doggie and smiled. + +"Like two little soldiers in a pod," she said. + +Toinette talked of her _petiot_ who was at St. Mihiel. It was far +away, very far. She sighed as though he were fighting remote in the +Caucasus. + +Presently came the sharp ring of a bell. Jeanne put aside her work and +rose. + +"It is my aunt who has awakened." + +But Toinette was already at the door. "I will go up, Ma'amselle +Jeanne. Do not derange yourself." + +She bustled away. Once more the pair found themselves alone together. + +"If you don't continue your sewing, mademoiselle," said Doggie, "I +shall think that I am disturbing you, and must bid you good night." + +Jeanne sat down and resumed her work. A sensation, more like laughter +than anything else, fluttered round Doggie's heart. + +"_Voulez-vous vous asseoir, Monsieur--Trevor?_" + +"_Vous etes bien aimable, Mademoiselle Jeanne_," said Doggie, sitting +down on a straight-backed chair by the oilcloth-covered kitchen table +which was between them. + +"May I move the lamp slightly?" he asked, for it hid her from his +view. + +He moved it somewhat to her left. It threw shadows over her features, +accentuating their appealing sadness. He watched her, and thought of +McPhail's words about the ghosts. He noted too, as the needle went in +and out of the fabric, that her hands, though roughened by coarse +work, were finely made, with long fingers and delicate wrists. He +broke a silence that grew embarrassing. + +"You seem to have suffered greatly, Mademoiselle Jeanne," he said +softly. + +Her lips quivered. "_Mais oui, monsieur._" + +"Monsieur Trevor," he said. + +She put her hands and needlework in her lap and looked at him full. + +"And you too have suffered?" + +"I? Oh no." + +"But, yes. I have seen too much of it not to know. I see in the eyes. +Your two comrades to-day--they are good fellows--but they have not +suffered. You are different." + +"Not a bit," he declared. "We're just little indistinguishable bits of +the conglomerate Tommy." + +"And I, monsieur, have the honour to say that you are different." + +This was very flattering. More--it was sweet unction, grateful to many +a bruise. + +"How?" said he. + +"You do not belong to their world. Your Tommies are wonderful in their +kindness and chivalry--until I met them I had never seen an Englishman +in my life--I had imbecile ideas--I thought they would be without +manners--_un peu insultants_. I found I could walk among them, without +fear, as if I were a princess. It is true." + +"It is because you have the air of a princess," said Doggie; "a sad +little disguised princess of a fairy-tale, who is recognized by all +the wild boars and rabbits in the wood." + +She glanced aside. "There isn't a woman in Frelus who is differently +treated. I am only an ignorant girl, half bourgeoise, half peasant, +monsieur, but I have my woman's knowledge--and I know there is a +difference between you and the others. You are a son of good family. +It is evident. You have a delicacy of mind and of feeling. You were +not born to be a soldier." + +"Mademoiselle Jeanne," cried Doggie, "do I appear as bad as that? Do +you take me for an _embusque manque_?" + +Now an _embusque_ is a slacker who lies in the safe ambush of a soft +job. And an _embusque manque_ is a slacker who fortuitously has +failed to win the fungus wreath of slackerdom. + +She flushed deep red. + +"_Je ne suis pas malhonnete, monsieur._" + +Doggie spread himself elbow-wise over the table. The girl's visible +register of moods was fascinating. + +"Pardon, Mademoiselle Jeanne. You are quite right. But it's not a +question of what I was born to be--but what I was trained to be. I +wasn't trained to be a soldier. But I do my best." + +She looked at him waveringly. + +"Forgive me, mademoiselle." + +"But you flash out on the point of honour." + +Doggie laughed. "Which shows that I have the essential of the +soldier." + +Doggie's manner was not without charm. She relented. + +"You know very well what I mean," she said rebukingly. "And you don't +deserve that I should tell it to you. It was my intention to say that +you have sacrificed many things to make yourself a simple soldier." + +"Only a few idle habits," said Doggie. + +"You joined, like the rest, as a volunteer." + +"Of course." + +"You abandoned everything to fight for your country?" + +Under the spell of her dark eyes Doggie spoke according to Phineas +after the going West of Taffy Jones, "I think, Mademoiselle Jeanne, it +was rather to fight for my soul." + +She resumed her sewing. "That's what I meant long ago," she remarked +with the first draw of the needle. "No one could fight for his soul +without passing through suffering." She went on sewing. Doggie, +shrinking from a reply that might have sounded fatuous, remained +silent; but he realized a wonderful faculty of comprehension in +Jeanne. + +After awhile he said: "Where did you learn all your wisdom, +Mademoiselle Jeanne?" + +"At the convent, I suppose. My father gave me a good education." + +"An English poet has said, 'Knowledge comes, but Wisdom +lingers'"--Doggie had rather a fight to express the meaning exactly in +French--"You don't gather wisdom in convents." + +"It is true. Since then I have seen many things." + +She stared across the room, not at Doggie, and he thought again of the +ghosts. + +"Tell me some of them, Mademoiselle Jeanne," he said in a low voice. + +She shot a swift glance at him and met his honest brown eyes. + +"I saw my father murdered in front of me," she said in a harsh voice. + +"My God!" said Doggie. + +"It was on the Retreat. We lived in Cambrai, my father and mother and +I. He was a lawyer. When we heard the Germans were coming, my father, +somewhat of an invalid, decided to fly. He had heard of what they had +already done in Belgium. We tried to go by train. _Pas moyen._ We took +to the road, with many others. We could not get a horse--we had +postponed our flight till too late. Only a handcart, with a few +necessaries and precious things. And we walked until we nearly died of +heat and dust and grief. For our hearts were very heavy, monsieur. The +roads, too, were full of the English in retreat. I shall not tell you +what I saw of the wounded by the roadside. I sometimes see them now in +my dreams. And we were helpless. We thought we would leave the main +roads, and at last we got lost and found ourselves in a little wood. +We sat down to rest and to eat. It was cool and pleasant, and I +laughed, to cheer my parents, for they knew how I loved to eat under +the freshness of the trees." She shivered. "I hope I shall never have +to eat a meal in a wood again. We had scarcely begun when a body of +cavalry, with strange pointed helmets, rode along the path and, seeing +us, halted. My mother, half dead with terror, cried out, '_Mon Dieu, +ce sont des Uhlans!_' The leader, I suppose an officer, called out +something in German. My father replied. I do not understand German, so +I did not know and shall never know what they said. But my father +protested in anger and stood in front of the horse making gestures. +And then the officer took out his revolver and shot him through the +heart, and he fell dead. And the murderer turned his horse's head +round and he laughed. He laughed, monsieur." + +"Damn him!" said Doggie, in English. "Damn him!" + +He gazed deep into Jeanne's dark tearless eyes. She continued in the +same even voice: + +"My mother became mad. She was a peasant, a Bretonne, where the blood +is fierce, and she screamed and clung to the bridle of the horse. And +he rode her down and the horse trampled on her. Then he pointed at me, +who was supporting the body of my father, and three men dismounted. +But suddenly he heard something, gave an order, and the men mounted +again, and they all rode away laughing and jeering, and the last man, +in bad French, shouted at me a foul insult. And I was there, Monsieur +Trevor, with my father dead and my mother stunned and bruised and +bleeding." + +Doggie, sensitive, quivered to the girl's tragedy: he said, with tense +face: + +"God give me strength to kill every German I see!" + +She nodded slowly. "No German is a human being. If I were God, I would +exterminate the accursed race like wolves." + +"You are right," said Doggie. A short silence fell. He asked: "What +happened then?" + +"_Mon Dieu_, I almost forget. I was overwhelmed with grief and horror. +Some hours afterwards a small body of English infantry came--many of +them had bloodstained bandages. An officer who spoke a little French +questioned me. I told him what had happened. He spoke with another +officer, and because I recognized the word 'Uhlans,' I knew they were +anxious about the patrol. They asked me the way to some place--I +forget where. But I was lost. They looked at a map. Meanwhile my +mother had recovered consciousness. I gave her a little wine from the +bottle we had opened for our repast. I happened to look at the officer +and saw him pass his tongue over his cracked lips. All the men had +thrown themselves down by the side of the road. I handed him the +bottle and the little tin cup. To my surprise, he did not drink. He +said: 'Mademoiselle, this is war, and we are all in very great peril. +My men are dying of thirst, and if you have any more of the wine, give +it to them and they will do their utmost to conduct your mother and +yourself to a place of safety.' Alas! there were only three bottles in +our little basket of provisions. Naturally I gave it all--together +with the food. He called a sergeant, who took the provisions and +distributed them, while I was tending my mother. But I noticed that +the two officers took neither bite nor sup. It was only afterwards, +Monsieur Trevor, that I realized I had seen your great English +gentlemen.... Then they dug a little grave, for my father.... It was +soon finished ... the danger was grave ... and some soldiers took a +rope and pulled the handcart, with my mother lying on top of our +little possessions, and I walked with them, until the whole of my life +was blotted out with fatigue. We got on to the Route Nationale again +and mingled again with the Retreat. And in the night, as we were still +marching, there was a halt. I went to my mother. She was cold, +monsieur, cold and stiff. She was dead." + +She paused tragically. After a few moments she continued: + +"I fainted. I do not know what happened till I recovered consciousness +at dawn. I found myself wrapped in one of our blankets, lying under +the handcart. It was the market-square of a little town. And there +were many--old men and women and children, refugees like me. I rose +and found a paper--a leaf torn from a notebook--fixed to the handcart. +It was from the officer, bidding me farewell. Military necessity +forced him to go on with his men--but he had kept his word, and +brought me to a place of safety.... That is how I first met the +English, Monsieur Trevor. They had carried me, I suppose, on the +handcart, all night, they who were broken with weariness. I owe them +my life and my reason." + +"And your mother?" + +"How should I know? _Elle est restee la-bas_," she replied simply. + +She went on with her sewing. Doggie wondered how her hand could be so +steady. There was a long silence. What words, save vain imprecations +on the accursed race, were adequate? Presently her glance rested for a +second or two on his sensitive face. + +"Why do you not smoke, Monsieur Trevor?" + +"May I?" + +"Of course. It calms the nerves. I ought not to have saddened you with +my griefs." + +Doggie took out his pink packet and lit a cigarette. + +"You are very understanding, Mademoiselle Jeanne. But it does a +selfish man like me good to be saddened by a story like yours. I have +not had much opportunity in my life of feeling for another's +suffering. And since the war--I am _abruti_." + +"You? Do you think if I had not found you just the reverse, I should +have told you all this?" + +"You have paid me a great compliment, Mademoiselle Jeanne." Then, +after awhile, he asked, "From the market-square of the little town you +found means to come here?" + +"Alas, no!" she said, putting her work in her lap again. "I made my +way, with my handcart--it was easy--to our original destination, a +little farm belonging to the eldest brother of my father. The Farm of +La Folette. He lived there alone, a widower, with his farm-servants. +He had no children. We thought we were safe. Alas! news came that the +Germans were always advancing. We had time to fly. All the farm-hands +fled, except Pere Grigou, who loved him. But my uncle was obstinate. +To a Frenchman, the soil he possesses is his flesh and his blood. He +would die rather than leave it. And my uncle had the murder of my +father and mother on his brain. He told Pere Grigou to take me away, +but I stayed with him. It was Pere Grigou who forced us to hide. That +lasted two days. There was a well in the farm, and one night Pere +Grigou tied up my money and my mother's jewellery and my father's +papers, _enfin_, all the precious things we had, in a packet of +waterproof and sank it with a long string down the well, so that the +Germans could not find it. It was foolish, but he insisted. One day my +uncle and Pere Grigou went out of the little copse where we had been +hiding, in order to reconnoitre, for he thought the Germans might be +going away; and my uncle, who would not listen to me, took his gun. +Presently I heard a shot--and then another. You can guess what it +meant. And soon Pere Grigou came, white and shaking with terror. '_Il +en a tue un, et on l'a tue!_'" + +"My God!" said Doggie again. + +"It was terrible," she said. "But they were in their right." + +"And then?" + +"We lay hidden until it was dark--how they did not find us I don't +know--and then we escaped across country. I thought of coming here to +my Aunt Morin, which is not far from La Folette, but I reflected that +soon the Boches would be here also. And we went on. We got to a high +road--and once more I was among troops and refugees. I met some kind +folks in a carriage, a Monsieur and Madame Tarride, and they took me +in. And so I got to Paris, where I had the hospitality of a friend of +the Convent who was married." + +"And Pere Grigou?" + +"He insisted on going back to bury my uncle. Nothing could move him. +He had not parted from him all his life. They were foster-brothers. +Where he is now, who knows?" She paused, looked again at her ghosts, +and continued: "That is all, Monsieur Trevor. The Germans passed +through here and repassed on their retreat, and, as soon as it was +safe, I came to help my aunt, who was _souffrante_, and had lost her +son. Also because I could not live on charity on my friend, for, +_voyez-vous_, I was without a sou--all my money having been hidden in +the well by Pere Grigou." + +Doggie leant his elbows on the table. + +"And you have come through all that, Mademoiselle Jeanne, just as you +are----?" + +"How, just as I am?" + +"So gentle and kind and comprehending?" + +Her cheek flushed. "I am not the only Frenchwoman who has passed +through such things and kept herself proud. But the struggle has been +very hard." + +Doggie rose and clenched his fists and rubbed his head from front to +back in his old indecisive way, and began to swear incoherently in +English. She smiled sadly. + +"_Ah, mon pauvre ami!_" + +He wheeled round: "Why do you call me '_mon pauvre ami_'?" + +"Because I see that you would like to help me and you can't." + +"Jeanne," cried Doggie, bending half over the table which was between +them. + +She rose too, startled, on quick defensive. He said, in reply to her +glance: + +"Why shouldn't I call you Jeanne?" + +"You haven't the right." + +"What if I gain it?" + +"How?" + +"I don't know," said Doggie. + +The door burst suddenly open and the anxious face of Mo Shendish +appeared. + +"'Ere, you silly cuckoo, don't yer know you're on guard to-night? +You've just got about thirty seconds." + +"Good lord!" cried Doggie, "I forgot. _Bon soir, mademoiselle. Service +militaire_," and he rushed out. + +Mo lingered, with a grin, and jerked a backward thumb. + +"If it weren't for old Mo, miss, I don't know what would happen to our +friend Doggie. I got to look after him like a baby, I 'ave. He's on to +relieve guard, and if old Mac--that's McPhail"--she nodded recognition +of the name--"and I hadn't remembered, miss, he'd 'ave been in what +yer might call a 'ole. Compree?" + +"_Oui._ Yes," she said. "_Garde. Sentinelle._" + +"Sentinel. Sentry. Right." + +"He--was--late," she said, picking out her few English words from +memory. + +"Yuss," grinned Mo. + +"He--guard--house?" + +"Bless you, miss, you talk English as well as I do," cried the +admiring Mo. "Yuss. When his turn comes, up and down in the street, by +the gate." He saw her puzzled look. "Roo. Port," said he. + +"_Ah! oui, je comprends_," smiled Jeanne. "_Merci, monsieur, et bon +soir._" + +"Good night, miss," said Mo. + +Some time later he disturbed Phineas, by whose side he slept, from his +initial preparation for slumber. + +"Mac! Is there any book I could learn this blinking lingo from?" + +"Try Ovid--'Art of Love,'" replied Phineas sleepily. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +The spell of night sentry duty had always been Doggie's black hour. To +most of the other military routine he had grown hardened or deadened. +In the depths of his heart he hated the life as much as ever. He had +schooled himself to go through it with the dull fatalism of a convict. +It was no use railing at inexorable laws, irremediable conditions. The +only alternative to the acceptance of his position was military +punishment, which was far worse--to say nothing of the outrage to his +pride. It was pride that kept the little ironical smile on his lips +while his nerves were almost breaking with strain. The first time he +came under fire he was physically sick--not from fear, for he stood it +better than most, keeping an eye on his captain, whose function it was +to show an unconcerned face--but from sheer nervous reaction against +the hideous noise, the stench, the ghastly upheaval of the earth, the +sight of mangled men. When the bombardment was over, if he had been +alone, he would have sat down and cried. Never had he grown accustomed +to the foulness of the trenches. The sounder his physical condition, +the more did his delicately trained senses revolt. It was only when +fierce animal cravings dulled these senses that he could throw himself +down anywhere and sleep, that he could swallow anything in the way of +food or drink. The rats nearly drove him crazy.... Yet, what had once +been to him a torture, the indecent, nerve-rasping publicity of the +soldier's life, had now become a compensation. It was not so much in +companionship, like his friendly intercourse with Phineas and Mo, that +he found an anodyne, but in the consciousness of being magnetically +affected by the crowd of his fellows. They offered him protection +against himself. Whatever pangs of self-pity he felt, whatever wan +little pleadings for the bit of fine porcelain compelled to a rough +usage which vessels of coarser clay could disregard came lingeringly +into his mind, he dared not express them to a living soul around. On +the contrary, he set himself assiduously to cultivate the earthenware +habit of spirit; not to feel, not to think, only to endure. To a +humorously incredulous Jeanne he proclaimed himself _abruti_. Finally, +the ceaseless grind of the military machine left him little time to +think. + +But in the solitary sleepless hours of sentry duty there was nothing +to do but think; nothing wherewith to while away the time but an orgy +of introspection. First came the almost paralysing sense of +responsibility. He must keep, not only awake, but alert to the +slightest sound, the slightest movement. Lives of men depended on his +vigilance. A man can't screw himself up to this beautifully emotional +pitch for very long and be an efficient sentry. If he did, he would +challenge mice and shoot at cloud-shadows and bring the deuce of a +commotion about his ears. And this Doggie, who did not lack ordinary +intelligence, realized. So he strove to think of other things. And the +other things all focussed down upon his Doggie self. And he never knew +what to make of his Doggie self at all. For he would curse the things +that he once loved as being the cause of his inexpiable shame, and at +the same time yearn for them with an agony of longing. + +And he would force himself to think of Peggy and her unswerving +loyalty. Of her weekly parcel of dainty food, which had arrived that +morning. Of the joy of Phineas and the disappointment of the +unsophisticated Mo over the _pate de foie gras_. But his mind +wandered back to his Doggie self and its humiliations and its needs +and its yearnings. He welcomed enemy flares and star-shells and +excursions and alarms. They kept him from thinking, enabled him to +pass the time. But in the dead, lonely, silent dark, the hours were +like centuries. He dreaded them. + + * * * * * + +To-night they fled like minutes. It was a pitch-black night, spitting +fine rain. It was one of Doggie's private grievances that it +invariably rained when he was on sentry duty. One of Heaven's little +ways of strafing him for Doggieism. But to-night he did not heed it. +Often the passage of transport had been a distraction for which he had +longed and which, when it came, was warmly welcome. But to-night, +during his spell, the roadway of the village was as still as death, +and he loved the stillness and the blackness. Once he had welcomed +familiar approaching steps. Now he resented them. + +"Who goes there?" + +"Rounds." + +And the officer, recognized, flashing an electric torch, passed on. +The diminuendo of his footsteps was agreeable to Doggie's ear. The +rain dripped monotonously off his helmet on to his sodden shoulders, +but Doggie did not mind. Now and then he strained an eye upwards to +that part of the living-house that was above the gateway. Little +streaks of light came downwards through the shutter slats. Now it +required no great intellectual effort to surmise that the light +proceeded, not from the bedroom of the invalid Madame Morin, who would +naturally have the best bedroom situated in the comfortable main block +of the house, but from that of somebody else. Madame Morin was +therefore ruled out. So was Toinette--ridiculous to think of her +keeping all night vigil. There remained only Jeanne. + +It was supremely silly of him to march with super-martiality of tread +up the pavement; but then, it is often the way of young men to do +supremely silly things. + + * * * * * + +The next day was fuss and bustle, from the private soldier's point of +view. They were marching back to the trenches that night, and a crack +company must take over with flawless equipment and in flawless bodily +health. In the afternoon Doggie had a breathing spell of leisure. He +walked boldly into the kitchen. + +"Madame," said he to Toinette, "I suppose you know that we are leaving +to-night?" + +The old woman sighed. "It is always like that. They come, they make +friends, they go, and they never return." + +"You mustn't make the little soldier weep, _grand'mere_," said +Doggie. + +"No. It is the _grand'meres_ who weep," replied Toinette. + +"I'll come back all right," said he. "Where is Mademoiselle Jeanne?" + +"She is upstairs, monsieur." + +"If she had gone out, I should have been disappointed," smiled Doggie. + +"You desire to see her, monsieur?" + +"To thank her before I go for her kindness to me." + +The old face wrinkled into a smile. + +"It was not then for the _beaux yeux_ of the _grand'mere_ that you +entered?" + +"_Si, si!_ Of course it was," he protested. "But one, nevertheless, +must be polite to mademoiselle." + +"_Aie! aie!_" said the old woman, bustling out: "I'll call her." + +Presently Jeanne came in alone, calm, cool, and in her plain black +dress, looking like a sweet Fate. From the top of her dark brown hair +to her trim, stout shoes, she gave the impression of being exquisitely +ordered, bodily and spiritually. + +"It was good of you to come," he cried, and they shook hands +instinctively, scarcely realizing it was for the first time. But he +was sensitive to the frank grip of her long and slender fingers. + +"Toinette said you wished to see me." + +"We are going to-night. I had to come and bid you _au revoir_!" + +"Is the company returning?" + +"So I hear the quartermaster says. Are you glad?" + +"Yes, I am glad. One doesn't like to lose friends." + +"You regard me as a friend, Jeanne?" + +"_Pour sur_," she replied simply. + +"Then you don't mind my calling you Jeanne?" said he. + +"What does it matter? There are graver questions at stake in the +world." + +She crossed the kitchen and opened the yard door which Doggie had +closed behind him. Meeting a query in his glance, she said: + +"I like the fresh air, and I don't like secrecy." + +She leaned against the edge of the table and Doggie, emboldened, +seated himself on the corner by her side, and they looked out into the +little flagged courtyard in which the men, some in grey shirt-sleeves, +some in tunics, were lounging about among the little piles of +accoutrements and packs. Here and there a man was shaving by the aid +of a bit of mirror supported on a handcart. Jests and laughter were +flung in the quiet afternoon air. A little group were feeding pigeons +which, at the sight of crumbs, had swarmed iridescent from the tall +_colombier_ in the far corner near the gabled barn. As Jeanne did not +speak, at last Doggie bent forward and, looking into her eyes, found +them moist with tears. + +"What is the matter, Jeanne?" he asked in a low voice. + +"The war, _mon ami_," she replied, turning her face towards him, "the +haunting tragedy of the war. I don't know how to express what I mean. +If all those brave fellows there went about with serious faces, I +should not be affected. _Mais, voyez-vous, leur gaiete fait peur._" + +_Their laughter frightened her._ Doggie, with his quick +responsiveness, understood. She had put into a phrase the haunting +tragedy of the war. The eternal laughter of youth quenched in a gurgle +of the throat. + +He said admiringly: "You are a wonderful woman, Jeanne." + +Her delicate shoulders moved, ever so little. "A woman? I suppose I +am. The day before we fled from Cambrai it was my _jour de fete_. I +was eighteen." + +Doggie drew in his breath with a little gasp. He had thought she was +older than he. + +"I am twenty-seven," he said. + +She looked at him calmly and critically. "Yes. Now I see. Until now I +should have given you more. But the war ages people. Isn't it true?" + +"I suppose so," said Doggie. Then he had a brilliant idea. "But when +the war is over, we'll remain the same age for ever and ever." + +"Do you think so?" + +"I'm sure of it. We'll still both be in our twenties. Let us suppose +the war puts ten years of experience and suffering, and what not, on +to our lives. We'll only then be in our thirties--and nothing possibly +can happen to make us grow any older. At seventy we shall still be +thirty." + +"You are consoling," she admitted. "But what if the war had added +thirty years to one's life? What if I felt now an old woman of fifty? +But yes, it is quite true. I have the feelings and the disregard of +convention of a woman of fifty. If there had been no war, do you think +I could have gone among an English army--_sans gene_--like an old +matron? Do you think a _jeune fille francaise bien elevee_ could +have talked to you alone as I have done the past two days? Absurd. The +explanation is the war." + +Doggie laughed. "_Vive la guerre!_" said he. + +"_Mais non!_ Be serious. We must come to an understanding." + +In her preoccupation she forgot the rules laid down for the guidance +of _jeunes filles bien elevees_, and unthinkingly perched herself +full on the kitchen table on the corner of which Doggie sat in a +one-legged way. Doggie gasped again. All her assumed age fell from her +like a garment. Youth proclaimed itself in her attitude and the supple +lines of her figure. She was but a girl after all, a girl with a +steadfast soul that had been tried in unutterable fires; but a girl +appealing, desirable. He felt mighty protective. + +"An understanding? All right," said he. + +"I don't want you to go away and think ill of me--that I am one of +those women--_les affranchies_ I think they call them--who think +themselves above social laws. I am not. I am _bourgeoise_ to my +finger-tips, and I reverence all the old maxims and prejudices in +which I was born. But conditions are different. It is just like the +priests who have been called into the ranks. To look at them from the +outside, you would never dream they were priests--but their hearts and +their souls are untouched." + +She was so earnest, in her pathetic youthfulness, to put herself right +with him, so unlike the English girls of his acquaintance, who would +have taken this chance companionship as a matter of course, that his +face lost the smile and became grave, and he met her sad eyes. + +"That was very bravely said, Jeanne. To me you will be always the most +wonderful woman I have ever known." + +"What caused you to speak to me the first day?" she asked, after a +pause. + +"I explained to you--to apologize for staring rudely into your house." + +"It was not because you said to yourself, 'Here is a pretty girl +looking at me. I'll go and talk to her'?" + +Doggie threw his leg over the corner of the table and stood on +indignant feet. + +"Jeanne! How could you----?" he cried. + +She leaned back, her open palms on the table. The rare light came into +her eyes. + +"That's what I wanted to know. Now we understand each other, Monsieur +Trevor." + +"I wish you wouldn't call me Monsieur Trevor," said he. + +"What else can I call you? I know no other name." + +Now he had in his pocket a letter from Peggy, received that morning, +beginning "My dearest Marmaduke." Peggy seemed far away, and the name +still farther. He was deliberating whether he should say "_Appelez-moi +James_" or "_Appelez-moi Jacques_," and inclining to the latter as +being more picturesque and intimate, when she went on: + +"_Tenez_, what is it your comrades call you? 'Doggie'?" + +"Say that again." + +"Dog-gie." + +He had never dreamed that the hated appellation could sound so +adorable. Well--no one except his officers called him by any other +name, and it came with a visible charm from her lips. It brought about +the most fascinating flash of the tips of her white teeth. He laughed. + +"_A la guerre comme a la guerre._ If you call me that, you belong to +the regiment. And I promise you, it is a fine regiment." + +"_Eh bien_, Monsieur Dog-gie----" + +"There's no monsieur about it," he declared, very happily. "Tommies +are not _messieurs_." + +"I know one who is," said Jeanne. + +So they talked in a young and foolish way, and Jeanne for a while +forgot the tragedies that had gone and the tragedies that might come; +and Doggie forgot both the peacock and ivory room and the fetid hole +into which he would have to creep when the night's march was over. +They talked of simple things. Of Toinette, who had been with Aunt +Morin ever since she could remember. + +"You have won her heart with your snuff." + +"She has won mine with her discretion." + +"Oh-h!" said Jeanne, shocked. + +And so on and so forth, as they sat side by side on the kitchen table, +swinging their feet. After a while they drifted to graver questions. + +"What will happen to you, Jeanne, if your aunt dies?" + +"_Mon Dieu!_" said Jeanne---- + +"But you will inherit the property, and the business?" + +By no means. Aunt Morin had still a son, who was already very old. He +must be forty-six. He had expatriated himself many years ago and was +in Madagascar. The son who was killed was her Benjamin, the child of +her old age. But all her little fortune would go to the colonial +Gaspard, whom Jeanne had never seen. + +But the Farm of La Folette? + +"It has been taken and retaken by Germans and French and English, _mon +pauvre ami_, until there is no farm left. You ought to understand +that." + +It was a thing that Doggie most perfectly understood: a patch of +hideous wilderness, of poisoned, shell-scarred, ditch-defiled, barren, +loathsome earth. + +And her other relations? Only an uncle, her father's youngest brother, +a cure in Douai in enemy occupation. She had not heard of him since +the flight from Cambrai. + +"But what is going to become of you?" + +"So long as one keeps a brave heart what, does it matter? I am strong. +I have a good enough education. I can earn my living. Oh, don't make +any mistake. I have no pity for myself. Those who waste efforts in +pitying themselves are not of the stuff to make France victorious." + +"I am afraid I have done a lot of self-pitying, Jeanne." + +"Don't do it any more," she said gently. + +"I won't," said he. + +"If you keep to the soul you have gained, you can't," said Jeanne. + +"_Toujours la sagesse._" + +"You are laughing at me." + +"God forbid," said Doggie. + +Phineas and Mo came strolling towards the kitchen door. + +"My two friends, to pay their visit of adieu," said he. + +Jeanne slid from the table and welcomed the newcomers in her calm, +dignified way. Once more Doggie found himself regarding her as his +senior in age and wisdom and conduct of life. The pathetic girlishness +which she had revealed to him had gone. The age-investing ghosts had +returned. + +Mo grinned, interjected a British Army French word now and then, and +manifested delight when Jeanne understood. Phineas talked laboriously, +endeavouring to expound his responsibility for Doggie's welfare. He +had been his tutor. He used the word "_tuteur_." + +"That's a guardian, you silly ass," cried Doggie. "He means +'_instituteur_.' Go on. Or, rather, don't go on. The lady isn't +interested." + +"_Mais si_," said Jeanne, catching at the last English word. "It +interests me greatly." + +"_Merci, mademoiselle_," said Phineas grandly. "I only wish to explain +to you that while I live you need have no fear for Doggie. I will +protect him with my body from shells and promise to bring him safe +back to you. And so will Monsieur Shendish." + +"What's that?" asked Mo. + +Phineas translated. + +"_Oui, oui, oui!_" said Mo, nodding vigorously. + +A spot of colour burned on Jeanne's pale cheek, and Doggie grew red +under his tanned skin. He cursed Phineas below his breath, and +exchanged a significant glance with Mo. Jeanne said, in her even +voice: + +"I hope all the Three Musketeers will come back safe." + +Mo extended a grimy hand. "Well, good-bye, miss! McPhail here and I +must be going." + +She shook hands with both, wishing them _bonne chance_, and they +strolled away. Doggie lingered. + +"You mustn't mind what McPhail says. He's only an old imbecile." + +"You have two comrades who love you. That is the principal thing." + +"I think they do, each in his way. As for Mo----" + +"Mo?" She laughed. "He is delicious." + +"Well----" said he reluctantly, after a pause, "good-bye, Jeanne." + +"_Au revoir_--Dog-gie." + +"If I shouldn't come back--I mean if we were billeted somewhere +else--I should like to write to you." + +"Well--Mademoiselle Bossiere, chez Madame Morin, Frelus. That is the +address." + +"And will you write too?" + +Without waiting for a reply, he scribbled what was necessary on a +sheet torn from a notebook and gave it to her. Their hands met. + +"_Au revoir_, Jeanne." + +"_Au revoir_, Dog-gie. But I shall see you again to-night." + +"Where?" + +"It is my secret. _Bonne chance._" + +She smiled and turned to leave the kitchen. Doggie clattered into the +yard. + +"Been doin' a fine bit o' coartin', Doggie," said Private Appleyard +from Taunton, who was sitting on a box near by and writing a letter on +his knees. + +"Not so much of your courting, Spud," replied Doggie cheerfully. "Who +are you writing to? Your best girl?" + +"I be writin' to my own lawful mizzus," replied Spud Appleyard. + +"Then give her my love. Doggie Trevor's love," said Doggie, and +marched away through the groups of men. + +At the entrance to the barn he fell in with Phineas and Mo. + +"Laddie," said the former, "although I meant it at the time as a +testimony of my affection, I've been thinking that what I said to the +young leddy may not have been over-tactful." + +"It was taking it too much for granted," explained Mo, "that you and +her were sort of keeping company." + +"You're a pair of idiots," said Doggie, sitting down between them, and +taking out his pink packet of Caporal. "Have a cigarette?" + +"Not if I wos dying of----Look 'ere," said Mo, with the light on his +face of the earnest seeker after Truth. "If a chap ain't got no food, +he's dying of 'unger. If he ain't got no drink, he's dying of thirst. +What the 'ell is he dying of if he ain't got no tobakker?" + +"Army Service Corps," said Phineas, pulling out his pipe. + + * * * * * + +It was dark when A Company marched away. Doggie had seen nothing more +of Jeanne. He was just a little disappointed; for she had promised. He +could not associate her with light words. Yet perhaps she had kept her +promise. She had said "_Je vous verrai._" She had not undertaken to +exhibit herself to him. He derived comfort from the thought. There +was, indeed, something delicate and subtle and enchanting in the +notion. As on the previous day, the fine weather had changed with the +night and a fine rain was falling. Doggie, an indistinguishable +pack-laden ant in the middle of the four-abreast ribbon of similar +pack-laden ants, tramped on in silence, thinking his own thoughts. A +regiment going back to the trenches in the night is, from the point of +view of the pomp and circumstance of glorious war, a very lugubrious +procession. The sight of it would have hurt an old-time poet. An +experienced regiment has no lovely illusions. It knows what it is +going to, and the knowledge makes it serious. It would much rather be +in bed or on snug straw than plodding through the rain to four days +and nights of eternal mud and stinking high-explosive shell. It sets +its teeth and is a very stern, silent, ugly conglomeration of men. + +"---- (_the adjective_) night," growled Doggie's right-hand neighbour. + +"---- (_the adjective_)" Doggie responded mechanically. + +But to Doggie it was less "----" (_adjective as before_) than usual. +Jeanne's denunciation of self-pity had struck deep. Compared with her +calamities, half of which would have been the stock-in-trade of a +Greek dramatist wherewith to wring tears from mankind for a couple of +thousand years, what were his own piffling grievances? As for the +"----" night, instead of a drizzle he would have welcomed a +waterspout. Something that really mattered.... Let the heavens or the +Hun rain molten lead. Something that would put him on an equality with +Jeanne.... Jeanne, with her dark haunting eyes and mobile lips, and +her slim young figure and her splendid courage. A girl apart from the +girls he had known, apart from the women he had known, the women whom +he had imagined--and he had not imagined many--his training had +atrophied such imaginings of youth. Jeanne. Again her name conjured up +visions of the Great Jeanne of Domremy. If only he could have seen +her once again! + +At the north end of the village the road took a sharp twist, skirting +a bit of rising ground. There was just a glimmer of a warning light +which streamed athwart the turning ribbon of laden ants. And as Doggie +wheeled through the dim ray he heard a voice that rang out clear: + +"_Bonne chance!_" + +He looked up swiftly. Caught the shadow of a shadow. But it was +enough. It was Jeanne. She had kept her promise. The men responded +incoherently, waving their hands, and Doggie's shout of "_Merci!_" was +lost. But though he knew, with a wonderful throbbing knowledge, that +Jeanne's cry was meant for him alone, he was thrilled by his comrades' +instant response to Jeanne's voice. Not a man but he knew that it was +Jeanne. But no matter. The company paid homage to Jeanne. Jeanne who +had come out in the rain and the wind and the dark, and had waited, +waited, to redeem her promise. "_C'est mon secret._" + +He ploughed on. Left, right! Thud, thud! Left, right! Jeanne, Jeanne! + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +In the village of Frelus life went on as before. The same men, though +a different regiment, filled its streets and its houses; for by what +signs could the inhabitants distinguish one horde of English +infantrymen from another? Once a Highland battalion had been billeted +on them, and for the first day or so they derived some excitement from +the novelty of the costume; the historic Franco-Scottish tradition +still lingered, and they welcomed the old allies of France with +especial kindliness; but they found that the habits and customs of the +men in kilts were identical, in their French eyes, with those of the +men in trousers. It is true the Scotch had bagpipes. The village +turned out to listen to them in whole-eyed and whole-eared wonder. And +the memory of the skirling music remained indelible. Otherwise there +was little difference. And when a Midland regiment succeeded a South +Coast regiment, where was the difference at all? They might be the +same men. + +Jeanne, standing by the kitchen door, watching the familiar scene in +the courtyard, could scarcely believe there had been a change. Now and +again she caught herself wondering why she could not pick out any one +of her Three Musketeers. There were two or three soldiers, as usual, +helping Toinette with her crocks at the well. There she was, herself, +moving among them, as courteously treated as though she were a +princess. Perhaps these men, whom she heard had come from +manufacturing centres, were a trifle rougher in their manners than her +late guests; but the intention of civility and rude chivalry was no +less sincere. They came and asked for odds and ends very politely. To +all intents and purposes they were the same set of men. Why was not +Doggie among them? It seemed very strange. + +After a while she made some sort of an acquaintance with a sergeant +who had a few words of French and appeared anxious to improve his +knowledge of the language. He explained that he had been a teacher in +what corresponded to the French _Ecoles Normales_. He came from +Birmingham, which he gave her to understand was a glorified Lille. She +found him very earnest, very self-centred in his worship of +efficiency. As he had striven for his class of boys, so now was he +striving for his platoon of men. In a dogmatic way he expounded to her +ideals severely practical. In their few casual conversations he +interested her. The English, from the first terrible day of their +association with her, had commanded her deep admiration. But until +lately--in the most recent past--her sex, her national aloofness and +her ignorance of English, had restrained her from familiar talk with +the British Army. But now she keenly desired to understand this +strange, imperturbable, kindly race. She put many questions to the +sergeant--always at the kitchen door, in full view of the courtyard, +for she never thought of admitting him into the house--and his +answers, even when he managed to make himself intelligible, puzzled +her exceedingly. One of his remarks led her to ask for what he was +fighting, beyond his apparently fixed idea of the efficiency of the +men under his control. What was the spiritual idea at the back of him? + +"The democratization of the world and the universal brotherhood of +mankind." + +"When the British Lion shall lie down with the German Lamb?" + +He flashed a suspicious glance. Strenuous schoolmasters in primary +schools have little time for the cultivation of a sense of humour. + +"Something of the sort must be the ultimate result of the war." + +"But in the meantime you have got to change the German wolf into the +_petit mouton_. How are you going to do it?" + +"By British efficiency. By proving to him that we are superior to him +in every way. We'll teach him that it doesn't pay to be a wolf." + +"And do you think he will like being transformed into a lamb, while +you remain a lion?" + +"I don't suppose so, but we'll give him his chance to try to become a +lion too." + +Jeanne shook her head. "No, monsieur, wolf he is and wolf he will +remain. A wolf with venomous teeth. The civilized world must see that +the teeth are always drawn." + +"I'm speaking of fifty years hence," said the sergeant. + +"And I of three hundred years hence." + +"You're mistaken, mademoiselle." + +Jeanne shook her head. "No. I'm not mistaken. Tell me. Why do you want +to become brother to the Boche?" + +"I'm not going to be his brother till the war's over," said the +sergeant stolidly. "At present I am devoting all my faculties to +killing as many of him as I can." + +She smiled. "Sufficient for the day is the good thereof. Go on killing +them, monsieur. The more you kill the fewer there will be for your +children and your grandchildren to lie down with." + +She left him and tried to puzzle out his philosophy. For the ordinary +French philosophy of the war is very simple. They have no +high-falutin, altruistic ideas of improving the Boche. They don't care +a tinker's curse what happens to the unholy brood beyond the Rhine, so +long as they are beaten, humiliated, subjected: so long as there is no +chance of their ever deflowering again with their brutality the sacred +soil of France. The French mind cannot conceive the idea of this +beautiful brotherhood; but, on the contrary, rejects it as something +loathsome, something bordering on spiritual defilement.... + +No; Jeanne could not accept the theory that we were waging war for the +ultimate chastening and beatification of Germany. She preferred +Doggie's reason for fighting. For his soul. There was something which +she could grip. And having gripped it, it was something around which +her imagination could weave a web of noble fancy. After all, when she +came to think of it, every one of the Allies must be fighting for his +soul. For his soul's sake had not her father died? Although she knew +no word of German, it was obvious that the Uhlan officer had murdered +him because he had refused to betray his country. And her uncle. To +fight for his soul, had he not gone out with his heroic but futile +sporting gun? And this pragmatical sergeant? What else had led him +from his schoolroom to the battlefield? Why couldn't he be honest +about it, like Doggie? + +She missed Doggie. He ought to be there, as she had often seen him +unobserved, talking with his friends or going about his military +duties, or playing the flageolet with the magical touch of the +musician. She knew far more of Doggie than he was aware of ... And at +night she prayed for the little English soldier who was facing Death. + +She had much time to think of him during the hours when she sat by the +bedside of Aunt Morin, who talked incessantly of Francois-Marie who +was killed on the Argonne, and Gaspard who, as a _territorial_, was no +doubt defending Madagascar from invasion. And it was pleasant to think +of him, because he was a new distraction from tragical memories. He +seemed to lay the ghosts ... He was different from all the Englishmen +she had met. The young officers who had helped her in her flight, had +very much the same charm of breeding, very much the same intonation of +voice; instinctively she knew him to be of the same social caste; but +they, and the officers whom she saw about the street and in the +courtyard, when duty called them there, had the military air of +command. And this her little English soldier had not. Of course, he +was only a private, and privates are trained to obedience. She knew +that perfectly well. But why was he not commanding instead of obeying? +There was a reason for it. She had seen it in his eyes. She wished she +had made him talk more about himself. Perhaps she had been +unsympathetic and selfish. He assumed, she reflected, a certain +_cranerie_ with his fellows--and _cranerie_ is "swagger" bereft of +vulgarity--we have no word to connote its conception in a French +mind--and she admired it; but her swift intuition pierced the +assumption. She divined a world of hesitancies behind the Musketeer +swing of the shoulders. He was so gentle, so sensitive, so quick to +understand. And yet so proud. And yet again so unconfessedly +dependent. Her woman's protective instinct responded to a mute appeal. + +"But, Ma'amselle Jeanne, you are wet through, you are perished with +cold. What folly have you been committing?" Toinette scolded, when she +returned after wishing Doggie the last "_bonne chance_." + +"The folly of putting my Frenchwoman's heart (_mon coeur de +Francaise_) into the hands of a brave little soldier to fight with +him in the trenches." + +"_Mon Dieu, ma'amselle_, you had better go straight to bed, and I will +bring you a _bon tilleul_, which will calm your nerves and produce a +good perspiration." + +So Toinette put Jeanne to bed and administered the infallible infusion +of lime leaves, and Jeanne was never the worse for her adventure. But +the next day she wondered a little why she had undertaken it. She had +a vague idea that it paid a little debt of sympathy. + +An evening or two afterwards Jeanne was sewing in the kitchen when +Toinette, sitting in the arm-chair by the extinct fire, fished out of +her pocket the little olive-wood box with the pansies and +forget-me-nots on the lid, and took a long pinch of snuff. She did it +with somewhat of an air which caused Jeanne to smile. + +"_Dites donc_, Toinette, you are insupportable with your snuff-box. +One would say a marquise of the old school." + +"Ah, Ma'amselle Jeanne," said the old woman, "you must not laugh at +me. I was just thinking that, if anything happened to the _petit +monsieur_, I couldn't have the heart to go on putting his snuff up my +old nose." + +"Nothing will happen to him," said Jeanne. + +The old woman sighed and re-engulfed the snuff-box. "Who knows? From +one minute to another who knows whether the little ones who are dear +to us are alive or dead?" + +"And this _petit monsieur_ is dear to you, Toinette?" Jeanne asked, in +her even voice, without looking up from her sewing. + +"Since he resembles my _petiot_." + +"He will come back," said Jeanne. + +"I hope so," said the old woman mournfully. + +In spite of manifold duties, Jeanne found the days curiously long. She +slept badly. The tramp of the sentry below her window over the archway +brought her no sense of comfort, as it had done for months before the +coming of Doggie. All the less did it produce the queer little thrill +of happiness which was hers when, looking down through the shutter +slats she had identified in the darkness, on a change of guard, the +little English soldier to whom she had spoken so intimately. And when +he had challenged the rounds, she had recognized his voice.... If she +had obeyed an imbecile and unmaidenly impulse, she would have drawn +open the shutter and revealed herself. But apart from maidenly +shrinkings, familiarity with war had made her realize the sacred +duties of a sentry, and she had remained in discreet seclusion, awake +until his spell was over. But now the rhythmical beat of the heavy +boots kept her from sleeping and would have irritated her nerves +intolerably had not her sound common sense told her that the stout +fellow who wore them was protecting her from the Hun, together with a +million or so of his fellow-countrymen. + +She found herself counting the days to Doggie's return. + +"At last, it is to-morrow!" she said to Toinette. + +"What is it to-morrow?" asked the old woman. + +"The return of our regiment," replied Jeanne. + +"That is good. We have a regiment now," said Toinette ironically. + +The Midland company marched away--as so many had marched away before; +but Jeanne did not go to the little embankment at the turn of the road +to wish anyone good luck. She stood at the house door, as she had +always done, to watch them pass in the darkness; for there is always +something in the sight of men going into battle which gives you a lump +in the throat. For Jeanne it had almost grown into a religious +practice. + +The sergeant had told her that the new-comers would arrive at dawn. +She slept a little; awoke with a start as day began to break; dressed +swiftly, and went downstairs to wait. And then her ear caught the +rumble and the tramp of the approaching battalion. Presently transport +rolled by, and squads of men, haggard in the grey light, bending +double under their packs, staggered along to their billets. And then +came a rusty crew, among whom she recognized McPhail's tall gaunt +figure. She stood by the gateway, bareheaded, in her black dress and +blue apron, defying the sharp morning air, and watched them pass +through. She saw Mo Shendish, his eyes on the heels of the man in +front. She recognized nearly all. But the man she looked for was not +there. + +He could not have passed without her seeing him; but as soon as the +gateway was clear, she ran into the courtyard and fled across it to +cut off the men. There was no Doggie. Blank disappointment was +succeeded by sudden terror. + +Phineas saw her coming. He stumbled up to her, dropped his pack at her +feet, and spread out both his hands. She lost sight of the horde of +weary clay-covered men around her. She cried: + +"Where is he?" + +"I don't know." + +"He is dead?" + +"No one knows." + +"But you must know, you!" cried Jeanne, with a new fear in her eyes +which Phineas could not bear to meet. "You promised to bring him +back." + +"It was not my fault," said Phineas. "He was out last night--no, the +night before, this is morning--repairing barbed wire. I was not with +him." + +"_Mais, mon Dieu_, why not?" + +"Because the duties of soldiers are arranged for them by their +officers, mademoiselle." + +"It is true. Pardon. But continue." + +"A party went out to repair wire. It was quite dark. Suddenly a German +rifle-shot gave the alarm. The enemy threw up star-shells and the +front trenches on each side opened fire. The wiring party, of course, +lay flat on the ground. One of them was wounded. When it was all +over--it didn't last long--our men got back, bringing the wounded +man." + +"He is severely wounded? Speak," cried Jeanne. + +"The wounded man was not Doggie. Doggie went out with the party, but +he did not come back. That's why I said no one knows where he is." + +She stiffened. "He is lying out there. He is dead." + +"Shendish and I and Corporal Wilson over there, who was with the +party, got permission to go out and search. We searched all round +where the repair had been going on. But we could not find him." + +"_Merci!_ I ought not to have reproached you," she said steadily. +"_C'est un grand malheur._" + +"You are right. Life for me is no longer of much value." + +She looked at him in her penetrating way. + +"I believe you," she said. "For the moment, _au revoir_. You must be +worn out with fatigue." + +She left him and walked through the straggling men, who made +respectful way for her. All knew of her friendship with Doggie Trevor +and all realized the nature of this interview. They liked Doggie +because he was good-natured and plucky, and never complained and would +play the whistle on march as long as breath enough remained in his +body. As his uncle, the Dean, had said, breed told. In a curious, +half-grudging way they recognized the fact. They laughed at his +singular inefficiency in the multitudinous arts of the handy-man, +proficiency in which is expected from the modern private, but they +knew that he would go on till he dropped. And knowing that, they saved +him from many a reprimand which his absurd efforts in the arts +aforesaid would have brought upon him. And now that Doggie was gone, +they deplored his loss. But so many had gone. So many had been +deplored. Human nature is only capable of a certain amount of +deploring while retaining its sanity. The men let the pale French +girl, who was Doggie Trevor's friend, pass by in respectful +silence--and that, for them, was their final tribute to Doggie Trevor. + +Jeanne passed into the kitchen. Toinette drew a sharp breath at the +sight of her face. + +"_Quoi? Il n'est pas la?_" + +"No," said Jeanne. "He is wounded." It was impossible to explain to +Toinette. + +"Badly?" + +"They don't know." + +"_Oh, la, la!_" sighed Toinette. "That always happens. That is what +I told you." + +"We have no time to think of such things," said Jeanne. + +The regimental cooks came up for the hot water, and soon the hungry, +weary, nerve-racked men were served with the morning meal. And Jeanne +stood in the courtyard in front of the kitchen door and helped with +the filling of the tea-kettles, as though no little English soldier +called "Dog-gie" had ever existed in the regiment. + +The first pale shaft of sunlight fell upon the kitchen side of the +courtyard, and in it Jeanne stood illuminated. It touched the shades +of gold in her dark brown hair, and lit up her pale face and great +unsmiling eyes. But her lips smiled valiantly. + +"What do yer think, Mac," said Mo Shendish, squatting on the +flagstones, "do you think she was really sweet on him?" + +"Man," replied Phineas, similarly engaged, "all I know is that she has +added him to her collection of ghosts. It's not an over-braw company +for a lassie to live with." + +And then, soon afterwards, the trench-broken men stumbled into the +barn to sleep, and all was quiet again, and Jeanne went about her +daily tasks with the familiar hand of death once more closing icily +around her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +The sick-room was very hot, and Aunt Morin very querulous. Jeanne +opened a window, but Aunt Morin complained of currents of air. Did +Jeanne want to kill her? So Jeanne closed the window. The internal +malady from which Aunt Morin suffered, and from which it was unlikely +that she would recover, caused her considerable pain from time to +time; and on these occasions she grew fractious and hard to bear with. +The retired septuagenarian village doctor who had taken the modest +practice of his son, now far away with the Army, advised an operation. +But Aunt Morin, with her peasant's prejudice, declined flatly. She +knew what happened in those hospitals where they cut people up just +for the pleasure of looking at their insides. She was not going to let +a lot of butchers amuse themselves with her old carcass. _Oh non!_ +When it pleased the _bon Dieu_ to take her, she was ready: the _bon +Dieu_ required no assistance from _ces messieurs_. And even if she had +consented, how to take her to Paris, and once there, how to get the +operation performed, with all the hospitals full and all the surgeons +at the Front? The old doctor shrugged his shoulders and kept life in +her as best he might. + +To-day, in the close room, she told a long story of the doctor's +neglect. The medicine he gave her was water and nothing else--water +with nothing in it. And to ask people to pay for that! She would not +pay. What would Jeanne advise? + +"_Oui, ma tante_," said Jeanne. + +"_Oui, ma tante?_ But you are not listening to what I say. At the +least one can be polite." + +"I am listening, _ma tante_." + +"You should be grateful to those who lodge and nourish you." + +"I am grateful, _ma tante_," said Jeanne patiently. + +Aunt Morin complained of being robbed on all sides. The doctor, +Toinette, Jeanne, the English soldiers--the last the worst of all. +Besides not paying sufficiently for what they had, they were so +wasteful in the things they took for nothing. If they begged for a few +faggots to make a fire, they walked away with the whole woodstack. She +knew them. But all soldiers were the same. They thought that in time +of war civilians had no rights. One of these days she would get up and +come downstairs and see for herself the robbery that was going on. + +The windows were tightly sealed. The sunlight hurting Aunt Morin's +eyes, the outside shutters were half closed. The room felt like a +stuffy, overheated, overcrowded sepulchre. An enormous oak press, part +of her Breton dowry, took up most of the side of one wall. This, and a +great handsome chest, a couple of tables, a stiff arm-chair, were all +too big for the moderately sized apartment. Coloured prints of sacred +subjects, tilted at violent angles, seemed eager to occupy as much +air-space as possible. And in the middle of the floor sprawled the +vast oaken bed, with its heavy green brocade curtains falling tentwise +from a great tarnished gilt crown in the ceiling. + +Jeanne said nothing. What was the good? She shifted the invalid's hot +pillow and gave her a drink of tisane, moving about the +over-furnished, airless room in her calm and efficient way. Her face +showed no sign of trouble, but an iron band clamped her forehead above +her burning eyes. She could perform her nurse's duties, but it was +beyond her power to concentrate her mind on the sick woman's unending +litany of grievances. Far away beyond that darkened room, beyond that +fretful voice, she saw vividly a hot waste, hideous with holes and +rusted wire and shapes of horror; and in the middle of it lay huddled +up a little khaki-clad figure with the sun blazing fiercely in his +unblinking eyes. And his very body was beyond the reach of man, even +of the most lion-hearted. + +"_Mais qu'as-tu, ma fille?_" asked Aunt Morin. "You do not speak. When +people are ill they need to be amused." + +"I am sorry, _ma tante_, but I am not feeling very well to-day. It +will pass." + +"I hope so. Young people have no business not to feel well. Otherwise +what is the good of youth?" + +"It is true," Jeanne assented. + +But what, she thought, was indeed the good of youth, in these terrible +days of war? Her own was but a panorama of death.... And now one more +figure, this time one of youth too, had joined it. + +Toinette came in. + +"Ma'amselle Jeanne, there are two English officers downstairs who wish +to speak to you." + +"What do they want?" Jeanne asked wearily. + +"They do not say. They just ask for Ma'amselle Bossiere." + +"They never leave one in peace, _ces gens-la_," grumbled Aunt Morin. +"If they want more concessions in price, do not let them frighten you. +Go to Monsieur le Maire to have it arranged with justice. These people +would eat the skin off your back. Remember, Jeanne." + +"_Bien, ma tante_," said Jeanne. + +She went downstairs, conscious of gripping herself in order to discuss +with the officers whatever business of billeting was in hand. For she +had dealt with all such matters since her arrival in Frelus. She +reached the front door and saw a dusty car with a military chauffeur +at the wheel and two officers, standing on the pavement at the foot of +the steps. One she recognized as the commander of the company to which +her billeted men belonged. The other was a stranger, a lieutenant, +with a different badge on his cap. They were talking and laughing +together, like old friends newly met, which by one of the myriad +coincidences of the war was really the case. On the appearance of +Jeanne they drew themselves up and saluted politely. + +"Mademoiselle Bossiere?" + +"_Oui, monsieur._" Then, "Will you enter, messieurs?" + +They entered the vestibule where the great cask gleamed in its +polished mahogany and brass. She bade them be seated. + +"Mademoiselle, Captain Willoughby tells me that you had billeted here +last week a soldier by the name of Trevor," said the stranger, in +excellent French, taking out notebook and pencil. + +Jeanne's lips grew white. She had not suspected their errand. + +"_Oui, monsieur._" + +"Did you have much talk with him?" + +"Much, monsieur." + +"Pardon my indiscretion, mademoiselle--it is military service, and I +am an Intelligence officer--but did you tell him about your private +affairs?" + +"Very intimately," said Jeanne. + +The Intelligence officer made a note or two and smiled pleasantly--but +Jeanne could have struck him for daring to smile. "You had every +reason for thinking him a man of honour?" + +"What's the good of asking her that, Smithers?" Captain Willoughby +interrupted in English. "Haven't I given you my word? The man's a +mysterious little devil, but any fool can see that he's a gentleman." + +"What do you say?" Jeanne asked tensely. + +"_Je parle francais tres peu_," replied Captain Willoughby with an +air of regret. + +Smithers explained. "Monsieur le Capitaine says that he guarantees the +honesty of the soldier, Trevor." + +Jeanne flashed, rigid. "Who could doubt it, monsieur? He was a +gentleman, a _fils de famille_, of the English aristocracy." + +"Excuse me for a moment," said Smithers. + +He went out. Jeanne, uncomprehending, sat silent. Captain Willoughby, +cursing an idiot education, composed in his head a polite French +sentence concerning the weather, but before he had finished Smithers +reappeared with a strange twisted packet in his hand. He held it out +to Jeanne. + +"Mademoiselle, do you recognize this?" + +She looked at it dully for a moment; then suddenly sprang to her feet +and clenched her hands and stared open-mouthed. She nodded. She could +not speak. Her brain swam. They had come to her about Doggie, who was +dead, and they showed her Pere Grigou's packet. What was the +connection between the two? + +Willoughby rose impulsively. "For God's sake, Smithers, let her down +easy. She'll be fainting all over the place in a minute." + +"If this is your property, mademoiselle," said Smithers, laying the +packet on the chenille-covered table, "you have to thank your friend +Trevor for restoring it to you." + +She put up both hands to her reeling head. + +"But he is dead, monsieur!" + +"Not a bit of it. He's just as much alive as you or I." + +Jeanne swayed, tried to laugh, threw herself half on a chair, half +over the great cask, and broke down in a passion of tears. + +The two men looked at each other uncomfortably. + +"For exquisite tact," said Willoughby, "commend me to an Intelligence +officer." + +"But how the deuce was I to know?" Smithers muttered with an injured +air. "My instructions were to find out the truth of a cock-and-bull +story--for that's what it seemed to come to. And a girl in +billets--well--how was I to know what she was like?" + +"Anyhow, here we've got hysterics," said Willoughby. + +"But who told her the fellow was dead?" + +"Why, his pals. I thought so myself. When a man's missing where's one +to suppose him to be--having supper at the Savoy?" + +"Well, I give women up," said Smithers. "I thought she'd be glad." + +"I believe you're a married man?" + +"Yes, of course." + +"Well, I ain't," said Willoughby, and in a couple of strides he stood +close to Jeanne. He laid a gentle hand on her heaving shoulders. + +"_Pas tue! Soolmong blesse_," he shouted. + +She sprang, as it were, to attention, like a frightened recruit. + +"He is wounded?" + +"Not very seriously, mademoiselle." Smithers, casting an indignant +glance at his superior officer's complacent smile, reassumed mastery +of the situation. "A Boche sniper got him in the leg. It will put him +out of service for a month or two. But there is no danger." + +"_Grace a Dieu!_" said Jeanne. + +She leaned for a while against the cask, her hands behind her, looking +away from the two men. And the two young men stood, somewhat +embarrassed, looking away from her and from each other. At last she +said, with an obvious striving for the even note in her voice: + +"I ask your pardon, messieurs, but sometimes sudden happiness is more +overwhelming than misfortune. I am now quite at your service." + +"My God! she's a wonder," murmured Willoughby, who was fair, +unmarried, and impressionable. "Go on with your dirty work." + +Smithers, conscious of linguistic superiority--in civil life he had +been concerned with the wine trade in Bordeaux--proceeded to carry out +his instructions. He turned over a leaf in his notebook and poised a +ready pencil. + +"I must ask you, mademoiselle, some formal questions." + +"Perfectly, monsieur," said Jeanne. + +"Where was this packet when last you saw it?" + +She made her statement, calmly. + +"Can you tell me its contents?" + +"Not all, monsieur. I, as a young girl, was not in the full confidence +of my parents. But I remember my uncle saying there were about twenty +thousand francs in notes, some gold--I know not how much--some +jewellery of my mother's--oh, a big handful!--rings--one a hoop of +emeralds and diamonds--a brooch with a black pearl belonging to my +great-grandmother----" + +"It is enough, mademoiselle," said Smithers, jotting down notes. +"Anything else besides money and jewellery?" + +"There were papers of my father, share certificates, bonds--_que +sais-je, moi_?" + +Smithers opened the packet, which had already been examined. + +"You're a witness, sir, to the identification of the property." + +"No," said Willoughby, "I'm just a baby captain of infantry, and +wonder why the brainy Intelligence department doesn't hand the girl +her belongings and decently clear out." + +"I've got to make my report, sir," said Smithers stiffly. + +So the schedule was produced and the notes were solemnly counted, +twenty-one thousand five hundred francs, and the gold four hundred +francs, and the jewels were identified, and the bonds, of which Jeanne +knew nothing, were checked by a list in her father's handwriting, and +Jeanne signed a paper with Smithers's fountain-pen, and Willoughby +witnessed her signature, and thus she entered into possession of her +heritage. + +The officers were about to depart, but Jeanne detained them. + +"Messieurs, you must pardon me, but I am quite bewildered. As far as I +can understand, Monsieur Trevor rescued the packet from the well at my +uncle's farm of La Folette, and got wounded in doing so." + +"That is quite so," said Smithers. + +"But, monsieur, they tell me he was with a party in front of his +trench mending wire. How did he reach the well of La Folette? I don't +comprehend at all." + +Smithers turned to Willoughby. + +"Yes. How the dickens did he know the exact spot to go for?" + +"We had taken over a new sector, and I was getting the topography +right with a map. Trevor was near by doing nothing, and as he's a man +of education, I asked him to help me. There was the site of the farm +marked by name, and the ruined well away over to the left in No Man's +Land. I remember the beggar calling out 'La Folette!' in a startled +voice, and when I asked him what was the matter, he said 'Nothing, +sir!'" + +Smithers translated, and continued: "You see, mademoiselle, this is +what happened, as far as I am concerned. I belong to the Lancashire +Fusiliers. Our battalion is in the trenches farther up the line than +our friends. Well, just before dawn yesterday morning a man rolled +over the parapet into our trench, and promptly fainted. He had been +wounded in the leg, and was half dead from loss of blood. Under his +tunic was this package. We identified him and his regiment, and fixed +him up and took him to the dressing-station. But things looked very +suspicious. Here was a man who didn't belong to us with a little +fortune in loot on his person. As soon as he was fit to be +interrogated, the C.O. took him in hand. He told the C.O. about you +and your story. He regarded the nearness of the well as something to +do with Destiny, and resolved to get you back your property--if it was +still there. The opportunity occurred when the wiring party was +alarmed. He crept out to the ruins by the well, fished out the packet, +and a sniper got him. He managed to get back to our lines, having lost +his way a bit, and tumbled into our trench." + +"But he was in danger of death all the time," said Jeanne, losing the +steadiness of her voice. + +"He was. Every second. It was one of the most dare-devil, +scatter-brained things I've ever heard of. And I've heard of many, +mademoiselle. The only pity is that instead of being rewarded, he will +be punished." + +"Punished?" cried Jeanne. + +"Not very severely," laughed Smithers. "Captain Willoughby will see to +that. But reflect, mademoiselle. His military duty was to remain with +his comrades, not to go and risk his life to get your property. +Anyhow, it is clear that he was not out for loot.... Of course, they +sent me here as Intelligence officer, to get corroboration of his +story." He paused for a moment. Then he added: "Mademoiselle, I must +congratulate you on the restoration of your fortune and the possession +of a very brave friend." + +For the first time the red spots burned on Jeanne's pale face. + +"_Je vous remercie infiniment, monsieur._" + +"_Il sera_ all right," said Willoughby. + +The officers saluted and went their ways. Jeanne took up her packet +and mounted to her little room in a dream. Then she sat down on her +bed, the unopened packet by her side, and strove to realize it all. +But the only articulate thought came to her in the words which she +repeated over and over again: + +"_Il a fait cela pour moi! Il a fait cela pour moi!_" + +He had done that for her. It was incredible, fantastic, thrillingly +true, like the fairy-tales of her childhood. The little sensitive +English soldier, whom his comrades protected, whom she herself in a +feminine way longed to protect, had done this for her. In a shy, +almost reverent way, she opened out the waterproof covering, as though +to reassure herself of the reality of things. For the first time since +she left Cambrai a smile came into her eyes, together with grateful +tears. + +"_Il a fait cela pour moi! Il a fait cela pour moi!_" + + * * * * * + +A while later she relieved Toinette's guard in the sick-room. + +"_Eh bien?_ And the two officers?" queried Aunt Morin, after Toinette +had gone. "They have stayed a long time. What did they want?" + +Jeanne was young. She had eaten the bread of dependence, which Aunt +Morin, by reason of racial instinct and the stress of sorrow and +infirmity, had contrived to render very bitter. She could not repress +an exultant note in her voice. Doggie, too, accounted for something; +for much. + +"They came to bring good news, _ma tante_. The English have found all +the money and the jewels and the share certificates that Pere Grigou +hid in the well of La Folette." + +"_Mon Dieu!_ It is true?" + +"_Oui, ma tante._" + +"And they have restored them to you?" + +"Yes." + +"It is extraordinary. It is truly extraordinary. At last these English +seem to be good for something. And they found that and gave it to you +without taking anything?" + +"Without taking anything," said Jeanne. + +Aunt Morin reflected for a few moments, then she stretched out a thin +hand. + +"_Ma petite Jeanne cherie_, you are rich now." + +"I don't know exactly," replied Jeanne, with a mingling of truth and +caution. "I have enough for the present." + +"How did it all happen?" + +"It was part of a military operation," said Jeanne. + +Perhaps later she might tell Aunt Morin about Doggie. But now the +thing was too sacred. Aunt Morin would question, question maddeningly, +until the rainbow of her fairy-tale was unwoven. The salient fact of +the recovery of her fortune should be enough for Aunt Morin. It was. +The old woman of the pain-pinched features looked at her wistfully +from sunken grey eyes. + +"And now that you are rich, my little Jeanne, you will not leave your +poor old aunt, who loves you so much, to die alone?" + +"_Ah, mais non! mais non! mais non!_" cried Jeanne indignantly. "What +do you think I am made of?" + +"Ah!" breathed Aunt Morin, comforted. + +"Also," said Jeanne, in the matter-of-fact French way, "_Si tu veux_, +I will henceforward pay for my lodging and nourishment." + +"You are very good, my little Jeanne," said Aunt Morin. "That will be +a great help, for, _vois-tu_, we are very poor." + +"_Oui, ma tante._ It is the war." + +"Ah, the war, the war; this awful war! One has nothing left." + +Jeanne smiled. Aunt Morin had a very comfortably invested fortune +left, for the late Monsieur Morin, corn, hay and seed merchant, had +been a very astute person. It would make little difference to the +comfort of Aunt Morin, or to the prospects of Cousin Gaspard in +Madagascar, whether the present business of Veuve Morin et Fils went +on or not. Of this Aunt Morin, in lighter moods, had boasted many +times. + +"Every one must do what they can," said Jeanne. + +"Perfectly," said Aunt Morin. "You are a young girl who well +understands things. And now--it is not good for young people to stay +in a sick-room--one needs the fresh air. _Va te distraire, ma petite._ +I am quite comfortable." + +So Jeanne went out to distract a self already distraught with great +wonder, great pride and great fear. + +He had done that for her. The wonder of it bewildered her, the pride +of it thrilled her. But he was wounded. Fear smothered her joy. They +had said there was no danger. But soldiers always made light of +wounds. It was their way in this horrible war, in the intimate midst +of which she had her being. If a man was not dead, he was alive, and +thereby accounted lucky. In their gay optimism they had given him a +month or two of absence from the regiment. But even in a month or +two--where would the regiment be? Far, far away from Frelus. Would +she ever see Doggie again? + +To distract herself she went down the village street, bareheaded, and +up the lane that led to the little church. The church was empty, cool, +and smelt of the hill-side. Before the tinsel-crowned, mild-faced +image of the Virgin were spread the poor votive offerings of the +village. And Jeanne sank on her knees, and bowed her head, and, +without special prayer or formula of devotion, gave herself into the +hands of the Mother of Sorrows. + +She walked back comforted, vaguely conscious of a strengthening of +soul. In the vast cataclysm of things her own hopes and fears and +destiny mattered very little. If she never saw Doggie again, if Doggie +recovered and returned to the war and was killed, her own grief +mattered very little. She was but a stray straw, and mattered very +little. But what mattered infinitely, what shone with an immortal +flame, though it were never so tiny, was the Wonderful Spiritual +Something that had guided Doggie through the jaws of death. + + * * * * * + +That evening she had a long talk in the kitchen with Phineas. The news +of Doggie's safety had been given out by Willoughby, without any +details. Mo Shendish had leaped about her like a fox-terrier, and she +had laughed, with difficulty restraining her tears. But to Phineas +alone she told her whole story. He listened in bewilderment. And the +greater the bewilderment, the worse his crude translations of English +into French. She wound up a long, eager speech by saying: + +"He has done this for me. Why?" + +"Love," replied Phineas bluntly. + +"It is more than love," said Jeanne, thinking of the Wonderful +Spiritual Something. + +"If you could understand English," said Phineas, "I would enter into +the metaphysics of the subject with pleasure, but in French it is +beyond me." + +Jeanne smiled, and turned to the matter-of-fact. + +"He will go to England now that he is wounded?" + +"He's on the way now," said Phineas. + +"Has he many friends there? I ask, because he talks so little of +himself. He is so modest." + +"Oh, many friends. You see, mademoiselle," said Phineas, with a view +to setting her mind at rest, "Doggie's an important person in his part +of the country. He was brought up in luxury. I know, because I lived +with him as his tutor for seven years. His father and mother are dead, +and he could go on living in luxury now, if he liked." + +"He is then, rich--Doggie?" + +"He has a fine house of his own in the country, with many servants and +automobiles, and--wait"--he made a swift arithmetical calculation--"and +an income of eighty thousand francs a year." + +"_Comment?_" cried Jeanne sharply, with a little frown. + +Phineas McPhail was enjoying himself, basking in the sunshine of +Doggie's wealth. Also, when conversation in French resolved itself +into the statement of simple facts, he could get along famously. So +the temptation of the glib phrase outran his discretion. + +"Doggie has a fortune of about two million francs." + +"_Il doit faire un beau mariage_," said Jeanne, with stony calm. + +Phineas suddenly became aware of pitfalls and summoned his craft and +astuteness and knowledge of affairs. He smiled, as he thought, +encouragingly. + +"The only fine marriage is with the person one loves." + +"Not always, monsieur," said Jeanne, who had watched the gathering of +the sagacities with her deep eyes. "In any case"--she rose and held +out her hand--"our friend will be well looked after in England." + +"Like a prince," said Phineas. + +He strode away greatly pleased with himself, and went and found Mo +Shendish. + +"Man," said he, "have you ever reflected that the dispensing of +happiness is the cheapest form of human diversion?" + +"What've you been doin' now?" asked Mo. + +"I've just left a lassie tottering over with blissful dreams." + +"Gorblime!" said Mo, "and to think that if I could sling the lingo, I +might've done the same!" + +But Phineas had knocked all the dreams out of Jeanne. The British +happy-go-lucky ways of marriage are not those of the French +_bourgeoisie_, and Jeanne had no notion of British happy-go-lucky +ways. Phineas had knocked the dream out of Jeanne by kicking Doggie +out of her sphere. And there was a girl in England in Doggie's sphere +whom he was to marry. She knew it. A man does not gather his +sagacities in order to answer crookedly a direct challenge, unless +there is some necessity. + +Well. She would never see Doggie again. He would pass out of her life. +His destiny called him, if he survived the slaughter of the war, to +the shadowy girl in England. Yet he had done _that_ for her. For no +other woman could he ever in this life do _that_ again. It was past +love. Her brain boggled at an elusive spiritual idea. She was very +young, flung cleanly trained from the convent into the war's terrific +tragedy, wherein maiden romantic fancies were scorched in the tender +bud. Only her honest traditions of marriage remained. Of love she knew +nothing. She leaped beyond it, seeking, seeking. She would never see +him again. There she met the Absolute. But he had done _that_ for +her--that which, she knew not why, but she knew--he would do for no +other woman. The Splendour of it would be her everlasting possession. + +She undressed that night, proud, dry-eyed, heroical, and went to bed, +and listened to the rhythmic tramp of the sentry across the gateway +below her window, and suddenly a lump rose in her throat and she fell +to crying miserably. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +"How are you feeling, Trevor?" + +"Nicely, thank you, Sister." + +"Glad to be in Blighty again?" + +Doggie smiled. + +"Good old Blighty!" + +"Leg hurting you?" + +"A bit, Sister," he replied with a little grimace. + +"It's bound to be stiff after the long journey, but we'll soon fix it +up for you." + +"I'm sure you will," he said politely. + +The nurse moved on. Doggie drew the cool clean sheet around his +shoulders and gave himself up to the luxury of bed--real bed. The +morning sunlight poured through the open windows, attended by a +delicious odour which after a while he recognized as the scent of the +sea. Where he was he had no notion. He had absorbed so much of Tommy's +philosophy as not to care. He had arrived with a convoy the night +before, after much travel in ambulances by land and sea. If he had +been a walking case, he might have taken more interest in things; but +the sniper's bullet in his thigh had touched the bone, and in spite of +being carried most tenderly about like a baby, he had suffered great +pain and longed for nothing and thought of nothing but a permanent +resting-place. Now, apparently, he had found one, and looking about +him he felt peculiarly content. He seemed to have seen no cleaner, +whiter, brighter place in the world than this airy ward, swept by the +sea-breeze. He counted seven beds besides his own. On a table running +down the ward stood a vase of sweet-peas and a bowl of roses. He +thought there was never in the world so clean and cool a figure as the +grey-clad nurse in her spotless white apron, cuffs and cap. + +When she passed near him again, he summoned her. She came to his +bedside. + +"What do you call this particular region of fairyland?" + +She stared at him for a moment, adjusting things in her mind; for his +name and style were 35792 Private Trevor, J. M., but his voice and +phrase were those of her own social class. Then she smiled, and told +him. The corner of fairyland was a private auxiliary hospital in a +Lancashire seaside town. + +"Lancashire," said Doggie, knitting his brow in a puzzled way, "but +why have they sent me to Lancashire? I belong to a West Country +regiment, and all my friends are in the South." + +"What's he grousing about, Sister?" suddenly asked the occupant of the +next bed. "He's the sort of chap that doesn't know when he's in luck +and when he isn't. I'm in the Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry, I am, +and when I was hit before, they sent me to a military hospital in +Inverness. That'd teach you, my lad. This for me every time. You ought +to have something to grouse at." + +"I'm not grousing, you idiot!" said Doggie. + +"'Ere--who's he calling an idjit?" cried the Duke of Cornwall's Light +Infantryman, raising himself on his elbow. + +The nurse intervened; explained that no one could be said to grumble +at a hospital when he called it fairyland. Trevor's question was that +of one in search of information. He did not realize that in assigning +men to the various hospitals in the United Kingdom, the authorities +could not possibly take into account an individual man's local +association. + +"Oh well, if it's only his blooming ignorance----" + +"That's just it, mate," smiled Doggie, "my blooming ignorance." + +"That's all right," said the nurse. "Now you're friends." + +"He had no right to call me an idjit," said the Duke of Cornwall's +Light Infantryman. He was an aggressive, red-visaged man with bristly +black hair and stubbly black moustache. + +"If you'll agree that he wasn't grousing, Penworthy, I'm sure Trevor +will apologize for calling you an idiot." + +And into the nurse's eyes crept the queer smile of the woman learned +in the ways of children. + +"Didn't I say he wasn't grousing? It was only his ignorance?" + +Doggie responded. "I meant no offence, mate, in what I said." + +The other growled an acceptance, whereupon the nurse smiled an ironic +benediction and moved away. + +"Where did you get it?" asked Penworthy. + +Doggie gave the information and, in his turn, made the polite +counter-inquiry. + +Penworthy's bit of shrapnel, which had broken a rib or two, had been +acquired just north of Albert. When he left, he said, we were putting +it over in great quantities. + +"That's where the great push is going to be in a few days." + +"Aren't you sorry you're out of it?" + +"Me?" The Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantryman shook his head. "I take +things as I finds 'em, and I finds this quite good enough." + +So they chatted and, in the soldier's way, became friends. Later, the +surgeon arrived and probed Doggie's wound and hurt him exquisitely, so +that the perspiration stood out on his forehead, and his jaws ached +afterwards from his clenching of them. While his leg was being dressed +he reflected that, a couple of years ago, if anyone had inflicted a +twentieth part of such torture on him he would have yelled the house +down. He remembered, with an inward grin, the anguished precautions on +which he had insisted whenever he sat down in the chair of his +expensive London dentist. + +"It must have hurt like fun," said the nurse, busily engaged with the +gauze dressing. + +"It's all in the day's work," replied Doggie. + +The nurse pinned the bandage and settled him comfortably in bed. + +"No one will worry you till dinner-time. You'd better try to have a +sleep." + +So Doggie nodded and smiled and curled up as best he could and slept +the heavy sleep of the tired young animal. It was only when he awoke, +physically rested and comparatively free from pain, that his mind, +hitherto confused, began to work clearly, to straighten out the three +days' tangle. Yes, just three days. A fact almost impossible to +realize. Till now it had seemed an eternity. + +He lay with his arms crossed under his head and stared at the blue +sky--a soft, comforting English sky. The ward was silent. Only two +beds were occupied, one by a man asleep, the other by a man reading a +novel. His other room-mates, including his neighbour Penworthy, were +so far convalescent as to be up and away, presumably by the +life-giving sea, whose rhythmic murmur he could hear. For the first +time since he awoke to find himself bandaged up in a strange dug-out, +and surrounded by strange faces, did the chaos of his ideas resolve +itself into anything like definite memories. Yet many of them were +still vague. + +He had been out there, with the wiring party, in the dark. He had been +glad, he remembered, to escape from the prison of the trench into the +open air. He was having some difficulty with a recalcitrant bit of +wire that refused to come straight and jabbed him diabolically in +unexpected places, when a shot rang out and German flares went up and +everybody lay flat on the ground, while bullets spat about them. As he +lay on his stomach, a flare lit up the ruined well of the farm of La +Folette. And the well and his nose and his heels were in a bee-line. +The realization of the fact was the inception of a fascinating idea. +He remembered that quite clearly. Of course his discovery, two days +before, of the spot where Jeanne's fortune lay hidden, when Captain +Willoughby, with map and periscope, had called him into consultation, +had set his heart beating and his imagination working. But not till +that moment of stark opportunity had he dreamed of the mad adventure +which he undertook. There in front of him, at the very farthest three +hundred yards away, in bee-line with nose and heels--that was the +peculiar and particular arresting fact--lay Jeanne's fortune. In +thinking of it he lost count of shots and star-shells, and heard no +orders and saw no dim forms creeping back to the safety of the trench. +And then all was darkness and silence. + +Doggie lay on his back and stared at the English sky and wondered how +he did it. His attitude was that of a man who cannot reconcile his +sober self with the idiot hero of a drunken freak. And yet, at the +time, the journey to the ruined well seemed the simplest thing in the +world. The thought of Jeanne's delight shone uppermost in his mind.... +Oh! he was forgetting the star, which hung low beneath a canopy of +cloud, the extreme point of the famous feet, nose and well bee-line. +He made for it, now and then walking low, now and then crawling. He +did not mind his clothes and hands being torn by the unseen refuse of +No Man's Land. His chief sensation was one of utter loneliness, +mingled with exultance at freedom. He did not remember feeling afraid: +which was odd, because when the star-shells had gone up and the German +trenches had opened fire on the wiring party, his blood had turned to +water and his heart had sunk into his boots and he had been deucedly +frightened. + +Heaven must have guided him straight to the well. He had known all +along that he merely would have to stick his hand down to find the +rope ... and he felt no surprise when the rope actually came in +contact with his groping fingers; no surprise when he pulled and +pulled and fished up the packet. It had all been preordained. That was +the funny part of the business which Doggie now could not understand. +But he remembered that when he had buttoned his tunic over the +precious packet, he had been possessed of an insane desire to sing and +dance. He repressed his desire to sing, but he leaped about and +started to run. Then the star in which he trusted must have betrayed +him. It must have shed upon him a ray just strong enough to make him a +visible object; for, suddenly, _ping!_ something hit him violently on +the leg and bowled him over like a rabbit into a providential +shell-hole. And there he lay quaking for a long time, while the lunacy +of his adventure coarsely and unsentimentally revealed itself. + +As to the rest, he was in a state of befogged memory. Only one +incident in that endless, cruel crawl home remained as a landmark in +his mind. He had paused to take breath, almost ready to give up the +impossible flight--it seemed as though he were dragging behind him a +ton of red-hot iron--when he became conscious of a stench violent in +his nostrils. He put out a hand. It encountered a horrible, once human +face, and his fingers touched a round recognizable cap. Horror drove +him away from the dead German and inspired him with the strength of +despair.... Then all was fog and dark again until he recovered +consciousness in the strange dug-out. + +There the doctor had said to him: "You must have a cast-iron +constitution, my lad." + +The memory caused a flicker round his lips. It wasn't everybody who +could crawl on his belly for nearly a quarter of a mile with a bullet +through his leg, and come up smiling at the end of it. A cast-iron +constitution! If he had only known it fifteen, even ten years ago, +what a different life he might have led. The great disgrace would +never have come upon him. + +And Jeanne? What of Jeanne? After he had told his story, they had +given him to understand that an officer would be sent to Frelus to +corroborate it, and, if he found it true, that Jeanne would enter into +possession of her packet. And that was all he knew, for they had +bundled him out of the front trenches as quickly as possible; and once +out he had become a case, a stretcher case, and although he had been +treated, as a case, with almost superhuman tenderness, not a soul +regarded him as a human being with a personality or a history--not +even with a military history. And this same military history had +vaguely worried him all the time, and now that he could think clearly, +worried him with a very definite worry. In leaving his firing-party he +had been guilty of a crime. Every misdemeanour in the Army is termed a +crime--from murder to appearing buttonless on parade. Was it +desertion? If so, he might be shot. He had not thought of that when he +started on his quest. It had seemed so simple to account for half an +hour's absence by saying that he had lost his way in the dark. But +now, that plausible excuse was invalid.... + +Doggie thought terribly hard that quiet, sea-scented morning. After +all, it did not very much matter what they did to him. Sticking him up +against a wall and shooting him was a remote possibility; he was in +the British and not the German Army. Field punishments of unpleasant +kinds were only inflicted on people convicted of unpleasant +delinquencies. If he were a sergeant or a corporal, he doubtless would +be broken. But such is the fortunate position of a private, that he +cannot be degraded to an inferior rank. At the worst they might give +him cells when he recovered. Well, he could stick it. It didn't +matter. What really mattered was Jeanne. Was she in undisputed +possession of her packet? When it was a question of practical warfare, +Doggie had blind faith in his officers--a faith perhaps even more +childlike than that of his fellow-privates, for officers were the men +who had come through the ordeal in which he had so lamentably failed; +but when it came to administrative affairs, he was more critical. He +had suffered during his military career from more than one subaltern +on whose arid consciousness the brain-wave never beat. He had never +met even a field officer before whom, in the realm of intellect, he +had stood in awe. If any one of those dimly envisaged and still more +dimly remembered officers of the Lancashire Fusiliers had ordered him +to stand on his head on top of the parapet, he would have obeyed in +cheerful confidence; but he was not at all certain that, in the effort +to deliver the packet to Jeanne, they would not make an unholy mess of +things. He saw stacks of dirty yellowish bits of paper, with A.F. No. +something or the other, floating between Frelus and the Lancashire +Battalion H.Q. and the Brigade H.Q. and the Divisional H.Q., and so on +through the majesty of G.H.Q. to the awful War Office itself. In +pessimistic mood he thought that if Jeanne recovered her property +within a year, she would be lucky. + +What a wonderful creature was Jeanne! He shut his eyes to the blue sky +and pictured her as she stood in the light, on the ragged escarpment, +with her garments beaten by wind and rain. And he remembered the weary +thud, thud of railway and steamer, which had resolved itself, like the +rhythmic tramp of feet that night, into the ceaseless refrain: "Jeanne! +Jeanne!" + +He opened his eyes again and frowned at the blue English sky. It had +no business to proclaim simple serenity when his mind was in such a +state of complex tangle. It was all very well to think of +Jeanne--Jeanne, whom it was unlikely that Fate would ever allow him to +see again, even supposing the war ended during his lifetime; but there +was Peggy--Peggy, his future wife, who had stuck to him loyally +through good and evil repute. Yes, there was Peggy--not the faintest +shadow of doubt about it. Doggie kept on frowning at the blue sky. +Blighty was a very desirable country, but in it you were compelled to +think. And enforced thought was an infernal nuisance. The beastly +trenches had their good points after all. There you were not called +upon to think of anything; the less you thought, the better for your +job; you just ate your bully-beef and drank your tea and cursed +whizz-bangs and killed a rat or two, and thanked God you were alive. + +Now that he came to look at it in proper perspective, it wasn't at all +a bad life. When had he been worried to death, as he was now? And +there were his friends: the humorous, genial, deboshed, yet +ever-kindly Phineas; dear old Mo Shendish, whose material feet were +hankering after the vulgar pavement of Mare Street, Hackney, but whose +spiritual tread rang on golden floors dimly imagined by the Seer of +Patmos; Barrett, the D. C. M., the miniature Hercules, who, according +to legend, though, modestly, he would never own to it, seized two +Boches by the neck and knocked their heads together till they died, +and who, musically inclined, would sit at his, Doggie's, feet while he +played on his penny whistle all the sentimental tunes he had ever +heard of; Sergeant Ballinghall, a tower of a man, a champion amateur +heavy-weight boxer, with a voice compared with which a megaphone +sounded like a maiden's prayer, and a Bardolphian nose and an eagle +eye and the heart of a broody hen, who had not only given him boxing +lessons, but had pulled him through difficult places innumerable ... +and scores of others. He wondered what they were doing. He also was +foolish enough to wonder whether they missed him, forgetting for the +moment that if a regiment took seriously to missing their comrades +sent to Kingdom Come or Blighty, they would be more like weeping +willows than destroyers of Huns. + +All the same, he knew that he would always live in the hearts of two +or three of them, and the knowledge brought him considerable comfort. +It was strange to realize how the tentacles of his being stretched out +gropingly towards these (from the old Durdlebury point of view) +impossible friends. They had grafted themselves on to his life. Or was +that a correct way of putting it? Had they not, rather, all grafted +themselves on to a common stock of life, so that the one common sap +ran through all their veins? + +It took him a long time to get this idea formulated, fixed and +accepted. But Doggie was not one to boggle at the truth, as he saw it. +And this was the truth. He, James Marmaduke Trevor of Denby Hall, was +a Tommy of the Tommies. He had lived the Tommy life intensely. He was +living it now. And the extraordinary part of it was that he didn't +want to be anything else but a Tommy. From the social or gregarious +point of view his life for the past year had been one of unclouded +happiness. The realization of it, now that he was clearly sizing up +the ramshackle thing which he called his existence, hit him like the +butt-end of a rifle. Hardship, cold, hunger, fatigue, stench, rats, +the dread of inefficiency--all these had been factors of misery which +he could never eliminate from his soldier's equation; but such free, +joyous, intimate companionship with real human beings he had never +enjoyed since he was born. He longed to be back among them, doing the +same old weary, dreary, things, eating the same old Robinson Crusoe +kind of food, crouching with them in the same old beastly hole in the +ground, while the Boche let loose hell on the trench. Mo Shendish's +grin and his "'Ere, get in aht of the rain," and his grip on his +shoulder, dragging him a few inches farther into shelter, were a +spiritual compensation transcending physical discomfitures and perils. + +"It's all dam funny," he said half aloud. + +But this was England, and although he was hedged about, protected and +restricted by War Office Regulation Red Tape twisted round to the +strength of steel cables, yet he was in command of telegraphs, of +telephones, and, in a secondary degree, of the railway system of the +United Kingdom. + +He found himself deprecating the compulsory facilities of +communication in the civilized world. The Deanery must be informed of +his home-coming. + +As soon as he could secure the services of a nurse he wrote out three +telegrams: one addressed "Conover, The Deanery, Durdlebury"; one to +Peddle at Denby Hall, and one to Jeanne. The one to Jeanne was the +longest, and was "Reply paid." + +"This is going to cost a small fortune, young man," said the nurse. + +Doggie smiled as he drew out a L1 treasury note from his soldier's +pocket-book, the pathetic object containing a form of Will on the +right-hand flap and on the left the directions for the making of the +Will, concluding with the world-famous typical signature of Thomas +Atkins. + +"It's a bust, Sister," said he. "I've been saving up for it for +months." + +Then, duty accomplished, he reconciled himself to the corner of +fairyland in which he had awoke that morning. Things must take their +course, and while they were taking it, why worry? So long as they +didn't commit the outrage of giving him bully-beef for dinner, the +present coolness and comfort sufficed for his happiness. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +The replies to the telegrams were satisfactory. Peggy, adjuring him to +write a full account of himself, announced her intention of coming up +to see him as soon as he could guarantee his fitness to receive visitors. +Jeanne wired: "_Paquet recu. Mille remerciements._" The news cheered +him exceedingly. It was worth a hole in the leg. Henceforward Jeanne +would be independent of Aunt Morin, of whose generous affection, in +spite of Jeanne's loyal reticence, he had formed but a poor opinion. +Now the old lady could die whenever she liked, and so much the better +for Jeanne. Jeanne would then be freed from the unhealthy sick-room, +from dreary little Frelus, and from enforced consorting with the +riff-raff (namely, all other regiments except his own) of the British +Army. Even as it was, he did not enjoy thinking of her as +hail-fellow-well-met with his own fellow-privates--perhaps with the +exception of Phineas and Mo, who were in a different position, having +been formally admitted into a peculiar intimacy. Of course, if Doggie +had possessed a more analytical mind, he would have been greatly +surprised to discover that these feelings arose from a healthy, +barbaric sense of ownership of Jeanne; that Mo and Phineas were in a +special position because they humbly recognized this fact of ownership +and adopted a respectful attitude towards his property, and that of +all other predatory men in uniform he was distrustful and jealous. But +Doggie was a simple soul and went through a great many elementary +emotions, just as Monsieur Jourdain spoke prose, _sans le savoir_. +Without knowing it, he would have gone to the ends of the earth for +Jeanne, have clubbed over the head any fellow-savage who should seek +to rob him of Jeanne. It did not occur to him that savage instinct had +already sent him into the jaws of death, solely in order to establish +his primitive man's ownership of Jeanne. When he came to reflect, in +his Doggie-ish way, on the motives of his exploit, he was somewhat +baffled. Jeanne, with her tragic face, and her tragic history, and her +steadfast soul shining out of her eyes, was the most wonderful woman +he had ever met. She personified the heroic womanhood of France. The +foul invader had robbed her of her family and her patrimony. The dead +were dead, and could not be restored; but the material wealth, +God--who else?--had given him this miraculous chance to recover; and +he had recovered it. National pride helped to confuse issues. He, an +Englishman, had saved this heroic daughter of France from poverty.... + +If only he could have won back to his own trench, and, later, when the +company returned to Frelus, he could have handed her the packet and +seen the light come into those wonderful eyes! + + * * * * * + +Anyhow, she had received it. She sent him a thousand thanks. How did +she look, what did she say when she cut the string and undid the seals +and found her little fortune? + +Translate Jeanne into a princess, the dirty waterproof package into a +golden casket, himself into a knight disguised as a squire of low +degree, and what more could you want for a first-class fairy-tale? The +idea struck Doggie at the moment of "lights out," and he laughed +aloud. + +"It doesn't take much to amuse some people," growled his neighbour, +Penworthy. + +"Sign of a happy disposition," said Doggie. + +"What've you got to be happy about?" + +"I was thinking how alive we are, and how dead you and I might be," +said Doggie. + +"Well, I don't think it funny thinking how one might be dead," replied +Penworthy. "It gives me the creeps. It's all very well for you. You'll +stump around for the rest of your life like a gentleman on a wooden +leg. Chaps like you have all the luck; but as soon as I get out of +this, I'll be passed fit for active service ... and not so much of +your larfing at not being dead. See?" + +"All right, mate," said Doggie. "Good night." + +Penworthy made no immediate reply; but presently he broke out: + +"What d'you mean by talking like that? I'd hate being dead." + +A voice from the far end of the room luridly requested that the +conversation should cease. Silence reigned. + + * * * * * + +A letter from Jeanne. The envelope bore a French stamp with the +Frelus postmark, and the address was in a bold feminine hand. From +whom could it be but Jeanne? His heart gave a ridiculous leap and he +tore the envelope open as he had never torn open envelope of Peggy's. +But at the first two words the leap seemed to be one in mid-air, and +his heart went down, down, down like an aeroplane done in, and arrived +with a hideous bump upon rocks. + +"_Cher Monsieur_" + +_Cher Monsieur_ from Jeanne--Jeanne who had called him "Dog-gie" in +accents that had rendered adorable the once execrated syllables. _Cher +Monsieur!_ + +And the following, in formal French--it might have been a convent +exercise in composition--is what she said: + + "The military authorities have remitted into my possession the + package which you so heroically rescued from the well of the + farm of La Folette. It contains all that my father was able to + save of his fortune, and on consultation with Maitre Pepineau + here, it appears that I have sufficient to live modestly for the + rest of my life. For the marvellous devotion of you, monsieur, + an English gentleman, to the poor interests of an obscure young + French girl, I can never be sufficiently grateful. There will + never be a prayer of mine, until I die, in which you will not be + mentioned. To me it will be always a symbolic act of your + chivalrous England in the aid of my beloved France. That you + have been wounded in this noble and selfless enterprise, is to + me a subject both of pride and terrifying dismay. I am moved to + the depths of my being. But I have been assured, and your + telegram confirms the assurance, that your wound is not + dangerous. If you had been killed while rendering me this + wonderful service, or incapacitated so that you could no longer + strike a blow for your country and mine, I should never have + forgiven myself. I should have felt that I had robbed France of + a heroic defender. I pray God that you may soon recover, and in + fighting once more against our common enemy, you may win the + glory that no English soldier can deserve more than you. Forgive + me if I express badly the emotions which overwhelm me. It is + impossible that we shall meet again. One of the few English + novels I have tried to read, _a coups de dictionnaire_, was + _Ships that Pass in the Night_. In spite of the great thing that + you have done for me, it is inevitable that we should be such + passing vessels. It is life. If, as I shall ceaselessly pray, + you survive this terrible war, you will follow your destiny as + an Englishman of high position, and I that which God marks out + for me. + + "I ask you to accept again the expression of my imperishable + gratitude. Adieu. + + "JEANNE BOSSIERE." + +The more often Doggie read this perfectly phrased epistle, the greater +waxed his puzzledom. The gratitude was all there; more than enough. It +was gratitude and nothing else. He had longed for a human story +telling just how the thing had happened, just how Jeanne had felt. He +had wanted her to say: "Get well soon and come back, and I'll tell you +all about it." But instead of that she dwelt on the difference of +their social status, loftily announced that they would never meet +again and that they would follow different destinies, and bade him the +_adieu_ which in French is the final leave-taking. All of which to +Doggie, the unsophisticated, would have seemed ridiculous, had it not +been so tragic. He couldn't reconcile the beautiful letter, written in +faultless handwriting and impeccable French, with the rain-swept girl +on the escarpment. What did she mean? What had come over her? + +But the ways of Jeannes are not the ways of Doggies. How was he to +know of the boastings of Phineas McPhail, and the hopelessness with +which they filled Jeanne's heart? How was he to know that she had sat +up most of the night in her little room over the gateway, drafting and +redrafting this precious composition, until, having reduced it to +soul-devastating correctitude, and, with aching eyes and head, made a +fair and faultless copy, she had once more cried herself into +miserable slumber? + +At once Doggie called for pad and pencil, and began to write: + + "MY DEAR JEANNE,-- + + "I don't understand. What fly has stung you? (_Quelle mouche + vous a piquee?_) Of course we shall meet again. Do you suppose + I am going to let you go out of my life?" + +(He sucked his pencil. Jeanne must be spoken to severely.) + + "What rubbish are you talking about my social position? My + father was an English parson (_pasteur anglais_) and yours a + French lawyer. If I have a little money of my own, so have you. + And we are not ships and we have not passed in the night. And + that we should not meet again is not Life. It is absurdity. We + are going to meet as soon as wounds and war will let me, and I + am not your '_Cher Monsieur_,' but your '_Cher Dog-gie_,' + and----" + +"Here is a letter for you, brought by hand," said the nurse, bustling +to his bedside. + +It was from Peggy. + +"Oh, lord!" said Doggie. + +Peggy was there. She had arrived from Durdlebury all alone, the night +before, and was putting up at an hotel. The venerable idiot, with red +crosses and bits of tin all over her, who seemed to run the hospital, +wouldn't let her in to see him till the regulation visiting hour of +three o'clock. That she, Peggy, was a Dean's daughter, who had +travelled hundreds of miles to see the man she was engaged to, did not +seem to impress the venerable idiot in the least. Till three o'clock +then. With love from Peggy. + +"The lady, I believe, is waiting for an answer," said the nurse. + +"Oh, my hat!" said Doggie below his breath. + +To write the answer, he had to strip from the pad the page on which he +had begun the letter to Jeanne. He wrote: "Dearest Peggy." Then the +pencil-point's impress through the thin paper stared at him. Almost +every word was decipherable. Recklessly he tore the pad in half and on +a virgin page scribbled his message to Peggy. The nurse departed with +it. He took up the flimsy sheet containing his interrupted letter to +Jeanne and glanced at it in dismay. For the first time it struck him +that such words, to a girl even of the lowest intelligence, could only +have one interpretation. Doggie said, "Oh, lord!" and "Oh, my hat!" +and Oh all sorts of unprintable things that he had learned in the +army. And he put to himself the essential question: What the Hades was +he playing at? + +Obviously, the first thing to do was to destroy the letter to Jeanne +and the tell-tale impress. This he forthwith did. He tore the sheets +into the tiniest fragments, stretched out his arm to put the handful +on the table by the bed, missed his aim and dropped it on the floor. +Whereby he incurred the just wrath of the hard-worked nurse. + +Again he took up Jeanne's letter. After all, what was wrong with it? +He must look at things from her point of view. What had really +happened? Let him set out the facts judicially. They had struck up a +day or two's friendship. She had told him, as she might have told any +decent soul, her sad and romantic story. The English during the great +retreat had rendered her unforgettable services. She was a girl of a +generously responsive nature. She would pay her debt of gratitude to +the English soldier. Her fine _vale_ on the memorable night of rain +was part payment of her debt to England. Yes. Let him get things in +the right perspective.... She had made friends with him because he was +one of the few private soldiers who could speak her language. It was +but natural that she should tell him of the sunken packet. It was one +of the most vital facts of her life. But just an outside fact: nothing +to do with any shy mysterious workings of her woman's soul. She might +have told the story to any man in the company without derogation from +her womanly dignity. And any man Jack of them, having Jeanne's +confidence, having the knowledge of the situation of the ruined well, +having the God-sent opportunity of recovering the treasure, would, of +absolute certainty, have done exactly what he, Doggie, had done. +Supposing Mo Shendish had been the privileged person, instead of +himself. What, by way of thanks, could Jeanne have written? A letter +practically identical. + +Practically. A very comfortable sort of word; but Doggie's cultivated +mind disliked it. It was a slovenly word, a makeshift for the hard +broom of clean thought. This infernal "practically" begged the whole +question. Jeanne would not have sentimentalized to Mo Shendish about +ships passing in the night. No, she wouldn't, in spite of all his +efforts to persuade himself that she would. Well, perhaps dear old Mo +was a rough, uneducated sort of chap. He could not have established +with Jeanne such delicate relations of friendship as exist between +social equals. Obviously the finer shades of her letter would have +varied according to the personality of the recipient. Jeanne and +himself, owing to the abnormal conditions of war, had suddenly become +very intimate friends. The war, as she imagined, must part them for +ever. She bade him a touching and dignified farewell, and that was the +end of the matter. It had all been an idyllic episode; beginning, +middle, and end; neatly rounded off; a thing done, and done +with--except as a strange romantic memory. It was all over. As long as +he remained in the army, a condition for which, as a private soldier, +he was not responsible, how could he see Jeanne again? By the time he +rejoined, the regiment would be many miles away from Frelus. This, in +her clear, steady way, she realized. Her letter must be final. + +It had to be final. Was not Peggy coming at three o'clock? + +Again Doggie thought, somewhat wistfully, of the old care-free, full +physical life, and again he murmured: + +"It's all dam funny!" + + * * * * * + +Peggy stood for a moment at the door scanning the ward; then +perceiving him, she marched down with a defiant glance at nurses and +blue-uniformed comrades and men in bed and other strangers, swung a +chair and established herself by his bedside. + +"You dear old thing, I couldn't bear to think of you lying here +alone," she said, with the hurry that seeks to cover shyness. "I had +to come. Mother's gone _fut_ and can't travel, and Dad's running all +the parsons' shows in the district. Otherwise one of them would have +come too." + +"It's awfully good of you, Peggy," he said, with a smile, for fair and +flushed she was pleasant to look upon. "But it must have been a +fiendish journey." + +"Rotten!" said Peggy. "But that's a trifle. You're the all-important +thing. Tell me straight. You're not badly hurt, are you?" + +"Lord, no," he replied cheerfully. "Just the fleshy part of the leg--a +clean bullet-wound. Bone touched; but they say I'll be fit quite +soon." + +"Sure? They're not going to cut off your leg or do anything horrid?" + +He laughed. "Sure," said he. + +"That's all right." + +There was a pause. Now that they had met they seemed to have little to +say. She looked around. Presently she remarked: + +"Everything looks quite fresh and clean." + +"It's perfect." + +"Rather public, though," said Peggy. + +"Publicity is the paradoxical condition of the private's life," +laughed Doggie. + +Another pause. + +"Well, how are you feeling?" + +"First-rate," said Doggie. "It's nothing to fuss over. I hope to be +out again in a month or two." + +"Out where?" + +"In France--with the regiment." + +Peggy drew a little breath of astonishment and sat up on her chair. +His surprising statement seemed to have broken up the atmosphere of +restraint. + +"Do you mean to say you _want_ to go back to the trenches?" + +Conscientious Doggie knitted his brows. A fervent "Yes" would proclaim +him a modern Paladin, eager to slay Huns. Now, as a patriotic +Englishman he loved Huns to be slain, but as the survivor of James +Marmaduke Trevor, dilettante expert on the theorbo and the viol da +gamba and owner of the peacock and ivory room in Denby Hall, to say +nothing of the collector of little china dogs, he could not honestly +declare that he enjoyed the various processes of slaying them. + +"I can't explain," he replied, after a while. "When I was out, I +thought I hated every minute of it. Now I look back, I find I've had +quite a good time. I've not once really been sick or sorry. For +instance, I've often thought myself beastly miserable with wet and mud +and east wind--but I've never had even a cold in the head. I never +knew how good it was to feel fit. And there are other things. When I +left Durdlebury, I hadn't a man friend in the world. Now I have a lot +of wonderful pals who would go through hell for one another--and for +me." + +"Tommies?" + +"Of course--Tommies." + +"You mean gentlemen in the ranks?" + +"Not a bit of it. Or yes. All are gentlemen in the ranks. All sorts +and conditions of men. The man whom I honour and love more than anyone +else, comes from a fish-shop in Hackney. That's the fascinating part +of it. Do understand me, Peggy," he continued, after a short silence, +during which she regarded him almost uncomprehendingly. "I don't say +I'm yearning to sleep in a filthy dug out or to wallow in the ground +under shell-fire, or anything of that sort. That's beastly. There's +only one other word for it, which begins with the same letter, and the +superior kind of private doesn't use it in ladies' society.... But +while I'm lying here I wonder what all the other fellows are +doing--they're such good chaps--real, true, clean men--out there you +seem to get to essentials--all the rest is leather and prunella--and I +want to be back among them again. Why should I be in clover while +they're in choking dust--a lot of it composed of desiccated Boches?" + +"How horrid!" cried Peggy, with a little shiver. + +"Of course it's horrid. But they've got to stick it, haven't they? And +then there's another thing. Out there one hasn't any worries." + +Peggy pricked up her ears. "Worries? What kind of worries?" + +Doggie became conscious of indiscretion. He temporized. + +"Oh, all kinds. Every man with a sort of trained intellect must have +them. You remember John Stuart Mill's problem: 'Which would you sooner +be--a contented hog, or a discontented philosopher?' At the Front you +have all the joys of the contented hog." + +Instinctively he stretched out his hand for a cigarette. She bent +forward, gripped a matchbox, and lit the cigarette for him. + +Doggie thanked her politely; but in a dim way he felt conscious of +something lacking in her little act of helpfulness. It had been +performed with the unsmiling perfunctoriness of the nurse; an act of +duty, not of tenderness. As she blew out the match, which she did with +an odd air of deliberation, her face wore the same expression of +hardness it had done on that memorable day when she had refused him +her sympathy over the white feather incident. + +"I can't understand your wanting to go back at all. Surely you've done +your bit," she said. + +"No one has done his bit who's alive and able to carry on," replied +Doggie. + +Peggy reflected. Yes. There was some truth in that. But she thought it +rather hard lines on the wounded to be sent back as soon as they were +patched up. Most of them hated the prospect. That was why she couldn't +understand Doggie's desire. + +"Anyhow, it's jolly noble of you, dear old thing," she declared with +rather a spasmodic change of manner, "and I'm very proud of you." + +"For God's sake, don't go imagining me a hero," cried Doggie in alarm, +"for I'm not. I hate the fighting like poison. The only reason I don't +run away is because I can't. It would be far more dangerous than +standing still. It would mean an officer's bullet through my head at +once." + +"Any man who is wounded in the defence of his country is a hero," said +Peggy defiantly. + +"Rot!" said Doggie. + +"And all this time you haven't told me how you got it. How did you?" + +Doggie squirmed. The inevitable and dreaded question had come at last. + +"I just got sniped when I was out, at night, with a wiring party," he +said hurriedly. + +"But that's no description at all," she objected. + +"I'm afraid it's all I can give," Doggie replied. Then, by way of +salve to a sensitive conscience, he added: "There was nothing brave or +heroic about it, at all--just a silly accident. It was as safe as +tying up hollyhocks in a garden. Only an idiot Boche let off his gun +on spec and got me. Don't let us talk about it." + +But Peggy was insistent. "I'm not such a fool as not to know what +mending barbed wire at night means. And whatever you may say, you got +wounded in the service of your country." + +It was on Doggie's agitated lips to shout a true "I didn't!" For that +was the devil of it. Had he been so wounded, he could have purred +contentedly while accepting the genuine hero's meed of homage and +consolation. But he had left his country's service to enter that of +Jeanne. In her service he had been shot through the leg. He had no +business to be wounded at all. Jeanne saw that very clearly. To have +exposed himself to the risk of his exploit was contrary to all his +country's interests. His wound had robbed her of a fighting man, not a +particularly valuable warrior, but a soldier in the firing line all +the same. If every man went off like that on private missions of his +own and got properly potted, there would be the end of the Army. It +was horrible to be an interesting hero under false pretences. + +Of course he might have been George Washingtonian enough to shout: "I +cannot tell a lie. I didn't." But that would have meant relating the +whole story of Jeanne. And would Peggy have understood the story of +Jeanne? Could Peggy, in her plain-sailing, breezy British way, have +appreciated all the subtleties of his relations with Jeanne? She would +ask pointed, probably barbed, questions about Jeanne. She would tear +the whole romance to shreds. Jeanne stood too exquisite a symbol for +him to permit the sacrilege of Peggy's ruthless vivisection. For +vivisect she would, without shadow of doubt. His long and innocent +familiarity with womankind in Durdlebury had led him instinctively to +the conclusion formulated by one of the world's greatest cynics in his +advice to a young man: "If you care for happiness, never speak to a +woman about another woman." + +Doggie felt uncomfortable as he looked into Peggy's clear blue eyes; +not conscience-stricken at the realization of himself as a scoundrelly +Don Juan--that never entered his ingenuous mind; but he hated his +enforced departure from veracity. The one virtue that had dragged the +toy Pom successfully along the Rough Road of the soldier's life was +his uncompromising attitude to Truth. It cost him a sharp struggle +with his soul to reply to Peggy: + +"All right. Have it so if it pleases you, my dear. But it was an idiot +fluke all the same." + +"I wonder if you know how you've changed," she said, after a while. + +"For better or worse?" + +"The obvious thing to say would be 'for the better.' But I wonder. Do +you mind if I'm frank?" + +"Not a bit." + +"There's something hard about you, Marmaduke." + +Doggie wrinkled lips and brow in a curious smile. "I'll be frank too. +You see, I've been living among men, instead of a pack of old women." + +"I suppose that's it," Peggy said thoughtfully. + +"It's a dud sort of place, Durdlebury," said he. + +"Dud?" + +He laughed. "It never goes off." + +"You used to say, in your letters, that you longed for it." + +"Perhaps I do now--in a way. I don't know." + +"I bet you'll settle down there after the war, just as though nothing +had happened." + +"I wonder," said Doggie. + +"Of course you will. Do you remember our plans for the reconstruction +of Denby Hall, which were knocked on the head? All that'll have to be +gone into again." + +"That doesn't mean that we need curl ourselves up there for ever like +caterpillars in a cabbage." + +She arched her eyebrows. "What would you like to do?" + +"I think I'll want to go round and round the world till I'm dizzy." + +At this amazing pronouncement from Marmaduke Trevor, Peggy gasped. It +also astonished Doggie himself. He had not progressed so far on the +road to self-emancipation as to dream of a rupture of his engagement. +His marriage was as much a decree of destiny as had been his +enlistment when he walked to Peter Pan's statue in Kensington Gardens. +But the war had made the prospect a distant one. In the vague future +he would marry and settle down. But now Peggy brought it into alarming +nearness, thereby causing him considerable agitation. To go back to +vegetation in Durdlebury, even with so desirable a companion cabbage +as Peggy, just when he was beginning to conjecture what there might be +of joy and thrill in life--the thought dismayed him; and the sudden +dismay found expression in his rhetorical outburst. + +"Oh, if you want to travel for a year or two, I'm all for it," cried +Peggy. "I can't say I've seen much of the world. But we'll soon get +sick of it, and yearn for home. There'll be lots of things to do. +We'll take up our position as county people--no more of the stuffy old +women you're so down on--and you'll get into Parliament and sit on +committees, and so on, and altogether we'll have a topping time." + +Doggie had an odd sensation that a stranger spoke through Peggy's +familiar lips. Well, perhaps, not a stranger, but a half-forgotten +dead and gone acquaintance. + +"Don't you think the war will change things--if it hasn't changed them +already?" + +"Not a bit," Peggy replied. "Dad's always talking learnedly about +social reconstruction, whatever that means. But if people have got +money and position and all that sort of thing, who's going to take it +away from them? You don't suppose we're all going to turn socialists +and pool the wealth of the country, and everybody's going to live in a +garden-city and wear sandals and eat nuts?" + +"Of course not," said Doggie. + +"Well, how are people like ourselves going to feel any difference in +what you call social conditions?" + +Doggie lit another cigarette, chiefly in order to gain time for +thought; but an odd instinct made him secure the matchbox before he +picked out the cigarette. Superficially, Peggy's proposition was +incontrovertible. Unless there happened some social cataclysm, +involving a newly democratized world in ghastly chaos, which after all +was a remote possibility, the externals of gentle life would undergo +very slight modification. Yet there was something fundamentally wrong +in Peggy's conception of post-war existence. Something wrong in +essentials. Now, a critical attitude towards Peggy, whose presence was +a proof of her splendid loyalty, seemed hateful. But there was +something wrong all the same. Something wrong in Peggy herself that +put her into opposition. In one aspect, she was the pre-war Peggy, +with her cut-and-dried little social ambitions and her definite +projects of attainment; but in another she was not. The pre-war Peggy +had swiftly turned into the patriotic English girl who had hounded him +into the army. He found himself face to face with an amorphous, +characterless sort of Peggy whom he did not know. It was perplexing, +baffling. Before he could formulate an idea, she went on: + +"You silly old thing, what change is there likely to be? What change +is there now, after all? There's a scarcity of men. Naturally. They're +out fighting. But when they come home on leave, life goes on just the +same as before--tennis parties, little dances, dinners. Of course, +lots of people are hard hit. Did I tell you that Jack Paunceby was +killed--the only son? The war's awful and dreadful, I know--but if we +don't go through with it cheerfully, what's the good of us?" + +"I think I'm pretty cheerful," said Doggie. + +"Oh, you're not grousing and you're making the best of it. You're +perfectly splendid. But you're philosophizing such a lot over it. The +only thing before us is to do in Germany, Prussian militarism, and so +on, and then there'll be peace, and we'll all be happy again." + +"Have you met many men who say that?" he asked. + +"Heaps. Oliver was only talking about it the other day." + +"Oliver?" + +At his quick challenge he could not help noticing a little cloud, as +of vexation, pass over her face. + +"Yes, Oliver," she replied, with an unnecessary air of defiance. "He +has been over here on short leave. Went back a fortnight ago. He's as +cheerful as cheerful can be. Jollier than ever he was. I took him out +in the dear old two-seater and he insisted on driving to show how they +drove at the Front--and it's only because the Almighty must have kept +a special eye on a Dean's daughter that I'm here to tell the tale." + +"You saw a lot of him, I suppose?" said Doggie. + +A flush rose on Peggy's cheek. "Of course. He was staying at the +Deanery most of his time. I wrote to you about it. I've made a point +of telling you everything. I even told you about the two-seater." + +"So you did," said Doggie. "I remember." He smiled. "Your description +made me laugh. Oliver's a major now, isn't he?" + +"Yes. And just before he got his majority they gave him the Military +Cross." + +"He must be an awful swell," said Doggie. + +She replied with some heat. "He hasn't changed the least little bit in +the world." + +Doggie shook his head. "No one can go through it, really go through +it, and come back the same." + +"You don't insinuate that Oliver hasn't really gone through it?" + +"Of course not, Peggy dear. They don't throw M.C.'s about like Iron +Crosses. In order to get it Oliver must have looked into the jaws of +hell. They all do. But no man is the same afterwards. Oliver has what +the French call _panache_----" + +"What's _panache_?" + +"The real heroic swagger--something spiritual about it. Oliver's not +going to let you notice the change in him." + +"We went to the Alhambra, and he laughed as if such a thing as war had +never been heard of." + +"Naturally," said Doggie. "All that's part of the _panache_." + +"You're talking through your hat, Marmaduke," she exclaimed with some +irritation. "Oliver's a straight, clean, English soldier." + +"I've been doing my best to tell you so," said Doggie. + +"But you seem to be criticizing him because he's concealing something +behind what you call his _panache_." + +"Not criticizing, dear. Only stating. I think I'm more Oliverian than +you." + +"I'm not Oliverian," cried Peggy, with burning cheeks. "And I don't +see why we should discuss him like this. All I said was that Oliver, +who has made himself a distinguished man and will be even more +distinguished, and, at any rate, knows what he's talking about, +doesn't worry his head with social reconstruction and all that sort of +rot. I've come here to talk about you, not about Oliver. Let us leave +him out of the question." + +"Willingly," said Doggie. "I never had any reason to love Oliver; but +I must do him justice. I only wanted to show you that he must be a +bigger man than you imagine." + +"I'm glad to hear you say so," cried Peggy, with a flash of the eyes. +"I hope it's true." + +"The war's such a whacking big thing, you see," he said with a +conciliatory smile. "No one can prophesy exactly what's going to come +out of it. But the whole of human society ... the world, the whole of +civilization, is being stirred up like a Christmas pudding. The war's +bound to change the trend of all human thought. There must be an +entire rearrangement of social values." + +"I'm sorry; but I don't see it," said Peggy. + +Doggie again wrinkled his brow and looked at her, and she returned his +glance stonily. + +"You think I'm mulish." + +She had interpreted Doggie's thought, but he raised a hand in protest. + +"No, no." + +"Yes, yes. Every man looks at a woman like that when he thinks her a +mule or an idiot. We get to learn it in our cradles. But in spite of +your superior wisdom, I know I'm right. After the war there won't be a +bit of change, really. A duke will be a duke, and a costermonger a +costermonger." + +"These are extreme cases. The duke may remain a duke, but he won't be +such a little tin god on wheels. He'll find himself in the position of +a democratic country gentleman. And the costermonger will rise to the +political position of an important tradesman. But between the two +there'll be any old sort of flux." + +"Did you learn all this horrible, rank socialism in France?" + +"Perhaps, but it seems so obvious." + +"It's only because you've been living among Tommies, who've got these +stupid ideas into their heads. If you had been living among your +social equals----" + +"In Durdlebury?" + +She flashed rebellion. "Yes. In Durdlebury. Why not?" + +"I'm afraid, Peggy dear," he said, with his patient, pleasant smile, +"you are rather sheltered from the war in Durdlebury." + +She cried out indignantly. + +"Indeed we're not. The newspapers come to Durdlebury, don't they? And +everybody's doing something. We have the war all around us. We've even +succeeded in getting wounded soldiers in the Cottage Hospital. Nancy +Murdoch is a V.A.D. and scrubs floors. Cissy James is driving a +Y.M.C.A. motor-car in Calais. Jane Brown-Gore is nursing in Salonika. +We read all their letters. Personally, I can't do much, because mother +has crocked up and I've got to run the Deanery. But I'm slaving from +morning to night. Only last week I got up a concert for the wounded. +Alone I did it--and it takes some doing in Durdlebury, now that you're +away and the Musical Association has perished of inanition. Old Dr. +Flint's no earthly good, since Tom, the eldest son--you remember--was +killed in Mesopotamia. So I did it all, and it was a great success. We +netted four hundred and seventy pounds. And whenever I can get a +chance, I go round the hospital and talk and read to the men and write +their letters, and hear of everything. I don't think you've any right +to say we're out of touch with the war. In a sort of way, I know as +much about it as you do." + +Doggie in some perplexity scratched his head, a thing which he would +never have done at Durdlebury. With humorous intent he asked: + +"Do you know as much as Oliver?" + +"Oliver's a field officer," she replied tartly, and Doggie felt +snubbed. "But I'm sure he agrees with everything I say." She paused +and, in a different tone, went on: "Don't you think it's rather rotten +to have this piffling argument when I've come all this long way to see +you?" + +"Forgive me, Peggy," he said penitently; "I appreciate your coming +more than I can say." + +She was not appeased. "And yet you don't give me credit for playing +the game." + +"What game?" he asked with a smile. + +"Surely you ought to know." + +He reached out his hand and took hers. "Am I worth it, Peggy?" + +Her lips twitched and tears stood in her eyes. + +"I don't know what you mean?" + +"Neither do I quite," he replied simply. "But it seems that I'm a +Tommy through and through, and that I'll never get Tommy out of my +soul." + +"That's nothing to be ashamed of," she declared stoutly. + +"Of course not. But it makes one see all sorts of things in a +different light." + +"Oh, don't worry your head about that," she said, with pathetic +misunderstanding. "We'll put you all right as soon as we get you back +to Durdlebury. I suppose you won't refuse to come this time." + +"Yes, I'll come this time," said Doggie. + +So he promised, and the talk drifted on to casual lines. She gave him +the mild chronicle of the sleepy town, described plays which she had +seen on her rare visits to London, sketched out a programme for his +all too short visit to the Deanery. + +"And in the meanwhile," she remarked, "try to get these morbid ideas +out of your silly old head." + +Time came for parting. She rose and shook hands. + +"Don't think I've said anything in depreciation of Tommies. I +understand them thoroughly. They're wonderful fellows. Good-bye, old +boy. Get well soon." + +She kissed her hand to him at the door, and was gone. + +It was now that Doggie began to hate himself. For all the time that +Peggy had been running on, eager to convince him that his imputation +of aloofness from the war was undeserved, the voice of one who, +knowing its splendours and its terrors, had pierced to the heart of +its mysteries, ran in his ears. + +"_Leur gaiete fait peur._" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +The X-rays showed the tiniest splinter of bone in Doggie's thigh. The +surgeon fished it up and the clean wound healed rapidly. The gloomy +Penworthy's prognostication had not come true. Doggie would not stump +about at ease on a wooden leg; but in all probability would soon find +himself back in the firing line--a prospect which brought great cheer +to Penworthy. Also to Doggie. For, in spite of the charm of the pretty +hospital, the health-giving sea air, the long rest for body and +nerves, life seemed flat and unprofitable. + +He had written a gay, irreproachable letter to Jeanne, to which +Jeanne, doubtless thinking it the last word of the episode, had not +replied. Loyalty to Peggy forbade further thought of Jeanne. He must +henceforward think of Peggy and her sturdy faithfulness as hard as he +could. But the more he thought, the more remote did Peggy seem. Of +course the publicity of the interview had invested it with a certain +constraint, knocked out of it any approach to sentimentality or +romance. They had not even kissed. They had spent most of the time +arguing from different points of view. They had been near to +quarrelling. It was outrageous of him to criticize her; yet how could +he help it? The mere fact of striving to exalt her was a criticism. + +Indeed they were far apart. Into the sensitive soul of Doggie the war +in all its meaning had paused. The soul of Peggy had remained +untouched. To her, in her sheltered corner of England, it was a +ghastly accident, like a railway collision blocking the traffic on her +favourite line. For the men of her own class who took part in it, it +was a brave adventure; for the common soldier a sad but patriotic +necessity. If circumstances had allowed her to go forth into the +war-world as nurse or canteen helper at a London terminus, or motor +driver in France, her horizon would have broadened. But the contact +with realities into which her dilettante little war activities brought +her was too slight to make the deep impression. In her heart, as far +as she revealed herself to Doggie, she resented the war because it +interfered with her own definitely marked out scheme of existence. The +war over, she would regard it politely as a thing that had never been, +and would forthwith set to work upon her aforesaid interrupted plan. +And towards a comprehension of this apparent serenity the perplexed +mind of Doggie groped with ill-success. All his old values had been +kicked into higgledy-piggledy confusion. All hers remained steadfast. + +So Doggie reflected with some grimness that there are rougher roads +than those which lead to the trenches. + +A letter from Phineas did not restore equanimity. It ran: + + "MY DEAR LADDIE,-- + + "Our unsophisticated friend, Mo, and myself are writing this + letter together and he bids me begin it by saying that he hopes + it finds you as it leaves us at present, in a muck of dust and + perspiration. Where we are now I must not tell, for (in the + opinion of the Censor) you would reveal it to the very Reverend + the Dean of Durdlebury, who would naturally telegraph the + information to the Kaiser. But the Division is far, far from the + idyllic land of your dreams, and there is bloody fighting ahead + of us. And though the hearts of Mo and me go out to you, laddie, + and though we miss you sore, yet Mo says he's blistering glad + you're out of it and safe in your perishing bed with a Blighty + one. And such, in more academic phraseology, are the sentiments + of your old friend Phineas. + + "Ah, laddie! it was a bad day when we marched from the old + billets; for the word had gone round that we weren't going back. + I had taken the liberty of telling the lassie ye ken of + something about your private position and your worldly affairs, + of which it seems you had left her entirely ignorant. Of course, + with my native Scottish caution, and my knowledge of human + nature gained in the academies of prosperity and the ragged + schools of adversity, I did not touch on certain matters of a + delicate nature. That is no business of mine. If there is + discretion in this world in which you can trust blindly, it is + that of Phineas McPhail. I just told her of Denby Hall and your + fortune, which I fairly accurately computed at a couple of + million francs. For I thought it was right she should know that + you weren't just a scallywag private soldier like the rest of + us. And I am bound to say that the lassie was considerably + impressed. In further conversation I told her something of your + early life, and, though not over desirous of blackening my + character in her bonnie eyes, I let her know what kind of an + injudicious upbringing you had been compelled to undergo. '_Il a + ete eleve_,' said I, '_dans_----' What the blazes was the + French for cotton-wool? The war has a pernicious effect on one's + memory--I sometimes even forget the elementary sensations of + inebriety. '_Dans la ouate_,' she said. And I remembered the + word. '_Oui, dans la ouate_,' said I. And she looked at me, + laddie, or, rather, through me, out of her great dark eyes--you + mind the way she treats your substance as a shadow and looks + through it at the shadows that to her are substances--and she + said below her breath--I don't think she meant me to hear + it--'_Et c'est lui qui a fait cela pour moi_.' + + "Mo, in his materialistic way, is clamorous that I should tell + you about the chicken; the which, being symbolical, I proceed to + do. It was our last day. She invited us to lunch in the kitchen + and shut the door so that none of the hungry varlets of the + company should stick in their unmannerly noses and whine for + scraps. And there, laddie, was an omelette and cutlets and a + chicken and a _fromage a la creme_ such as in the days of my + vanity I have never eaten, cooked by the old body whose soul you + won with a pinch of snuff. The poor lassie could scarcely eat; + but Mo saw that there was nothing left. The bones on his plate + looked as if a dog had been at them for a week. And there was + vintage Haut Sauterne which ran down one's throat like scented + gold. 'Man,' said I to Mo, 'if you lap it up like that you'll be + as drunk as Noah.' So he cast a frightened glance at + mademoiselle and sipped like a young lady at a christening + party. Then she brings out cherries and plums and peaches and + opens a half-bottle of champagne and fills all our glasses, and + Toinette had a glass; and she rises in the pale, dignified, + Greek tragedy way she has, and she makes a wee bit speech. + '_Messieurs_,' she said, 'perhaps you may wonder why I have + invited you. But I think you understand. It is the only way I + had of sharing with Doggie's friends the fortune that he had so + heroically brought me. It is but a little tribute of my + gratitude to Doggie. You are his friends and I wish well that + you would be mine--_tres franchement, tres loyalement_.' She + put out her hand and we shook it. And old Mo said, 'Miss, I'd go + to hell for you!' Whereupon the little red spot you may have + seen for yourself, came into her pale cheek, and a soft look + like a flitting moonbeam crept into her eyes. Laddie, if I'm + waxing too poetical, just consider that Mademoiselle Jeanne + Bossiere is not the ordinary woman the British private soldier + is in the habit of consorting with. Then she took up her glass. + '_Je vais porter un toast--Vive l'Angleterre!_' And although a + Scotsman, I drank it as if it applied to me. And then she cried, + '_Vive la France!_' And old Toinette cried, '_Vive la France!_' + + "And they looked transfigured, and I fairly itched to sing the + Marseillaise, though I knew I couldn't. Then she chinked glasses + with us. + + "'_Bonne chance, mes amis!_' + + "And then she made a sign to the auld wife, who added the few + remaining drops to our glasses. 'To Doggie!' said mademoiselle. + We drank the toast, laddie. Old Mo began in his cracked voice, + 'For he's a jolly good fellow.' I kicked him and told him to + shut up. But mademoiselle said: + + "'I've heard of that. It is a ceremony. I like it. Continue.' + + "So Mo and I held up our glasses and, in indifferent song, + proclaimed you what the Army, developing certain rudimentary + germs, has made you, and mademoiselle too held up her glass and + threw back her head and joined us in the hip, hip, hoorays. It + would have done your heart good, laddie, to have been there to + see. But we did you proud. + + "When we emerged from the festival, the prettiest which, in the + course of a variegated career, I have ever attended, Mo says: + + "'If I hadn't a gel at home----' + + "'If you hadn't got a girl at home,' said I, 'you'd be the next + damnedest fool in the army to Phineas McPhail!' + + "We marched out just before dusk, and there she was by the front + door; and though she stood proud and upright, and smiled with + her lips and blew us kisses with both hands, to which the boys + all responded with a cheer, there were tears streaming down her + cheeks--and the tears, laddie, were not for Mo, or me, or any + one of us ugly beggars that passed her by. + + "I also have good news for you, in that I hear from the + thunderous, though excellent, Sergeant Ballinghall, there is a + probability that when you rejoin, the C.O. will be afflicted + with a grievous lapse of memory and that he will be persuaded + that you received your wound during the attack on the wiring + party. + + "As I said before, laddie, we're all like the Scots wha' hae wi' + Wallace bled and are going to our gory bed or to victory. + Possibly both. But I will remain steadfast to my philosophy, and + if I am condemned to the said sanguinolent couch, I will do my + best to derive from it the utmost enjoyment possible. All kinds + of poets and such-like lusty loons have shed their last drop of + ink in the effort to describe the pleasures of life--but it will + be reserved for the disembodied spirit of Phineas McPhail to + write the great Philosophic poem of the world's history, which + will be entitled 'The Pleasures of Death.' While you're doing + nothing, laddie, you might bestir yourself and find an + enlightened publisher who would be willing to give me an + ante-mortem advance, in respect of royalties accruing to my + ghost. + + "Mo, to whom I have read the last paragraph, says he always knew + that eddication affected the brain. With which incontrovertible + proposition and our joint love, I now conclude this epistle. + + "Yours, PHINEAS." + +"Of all the blazing imbeciles!" Doggie cried aloud. Why the +unprintable unprintableness couldn't Phineas mind his own business? +Why had he given his silly accident of fortune away in this childish +manner? Why had he told Jeanne of his cotton-wool upbringing? His +feet, even that of his wounded leg, tingled to kick Phineas. Of course +Jeanne, knowing him now to be such a gilded ass, would have nothing +more to do with him. It explained her letter. He damned Phineas to all +eternity, in terms compared with which the curse of Saint Ernulphus +enunciated by the late Mr. Shandy was a fantastic benediction. "If I +had a dog," quoth my Uncle Toby, "I would not curse him so." But if +Uncle Toby had heard Doggie of the Twentieth Century Armies who also +swore terribly in Flanders, for dog he would have substituted +rattlesnake or German officer. + +Yet such is the quiddity of the English Tommy, that through this +devastating anathema ran a streak of love which at the end turned the +whole thing into forlorn derision. And as soon as he could laugh, he +saw things in a clear light. Both of his two friends were, in their +respective ways, in love with his wonderful Jeanne. Both of them were +steel-true to him. It was just part of their loyalty to foment this +impossible romance between Jeanne and himself. If the three of them +were now at Frelus, the two idiots would be playing gooseberry with +the smirking conscientiousness of a pair of schoolgirls. So Doggie +forgave the indiscretion. After all, what did it matter? + +It mattered, however, to this extent, that he read the letter over and +over again until he knew it by heart and could picture to himself +every phase of the banquet and every fleeting look on Jeanne's face. + +"All this," he declared at last, "is utterly ridiculous." And he tore +up Phineas's letter and, during his convalescence, devoted himself to +the study of European politics, a subject which he had scandalously +neglected during his elegantly leisured youth. + + * * * * * + +The day of his discharge came in due course. A suit of khaki took the +place of the hospital blue. He received his papers, the seven days' +sick furlough and his railway warrant, shook hands with nurses and +comrades and sped to Durdlebury in the third-class carriage of the +Tommy. + +Peggy, in the two-seater, was waiting for him in the station yard. He +exchanged greetings from afar, grinned, waved a hand and jumped in +beside her. + +"How jolly of you to meet me!" + +"Where's your luggage?" + +"Luggage?" + +It seemed to be a new word. He had not heard it for many months. He +laughed. + +"Haven't got any, thank God! If you knew what it was to hunch a +horrible canvas sausage of kit about, you'd appreciate feeling free." + +"It's a mercy you've got Peddle," said Peggy. "He has been at the +Deanery fixing things up for you for the last two days." + +"I wonder if I shall be able to live up to Peddle," said Doggie. + +"Who's going to start the car?" she asked. + +"Oh, lord!" he cried, and bolted out and turned the crank. "I'm +awfully sorry," he added, when, the engine running, he resumed his +place. "I had forgotten all about these pretty things. Out there a car +is a sacred chariot set apart for gods in brass hats, and the ordinary +Tommy looks on them with awe and reverence." + +"Can't you forget you're a Tommy for a few days?" she said, as soon as +the car had cleared the station gates and was safely under way. + +He noted a touch of irritation. "All right, Peggy dear," said he. +"I'll do what I can." + +"Oliver's here, with his man Chipmunk," she remarked, her eyes on the +road. + +"Oliver? On leave again? How has he managed it?" + +"You'd better ask him," she replied tartly. "All I know is that he +turned up yesterday, and he's staying with us. That's why I don't want +you to ram the fact of your being a Tommy down everybody's throat." + +He laughed at the queer little social problem that seemed to be +worrying her. "I think you'll find blood is thicker than military +etiquette. After all, Oliver's my first cousin. If he can't get on +with me, he can get out." To change the conversation, he added after a +pause: "The little car's running splendidly." + +They swept through the familiar old-world streets, which, now that the +early frenzy of mobilizing Territorials and training of new armies was +over, had resumed more or less their pre-war appearance. The sleepy +meadows by the river, once ground into black slush by guns and +ammunition waggons and horses, were now green again and idle, and the +troops once billeted on the citizens had marched heaven knows +whither--many to heaven itself--or whatever Paradise is reserved for +the great-hearted English fighting man who has given his life for +England. Only here and there a stray soldier on leave, or one of the +convalescents from the cottage hospital, struck an incongruous note of +war. They drew up at the door of the Deanery under the shadow of the +great cathedral. + +"Thank God that is out of reach of the Boche," said Doggie, regarding +it with a new sense of its beauty and spiritual significance. "To +think of it like Rheims or Arras--I've seen Arras--seen a shell burst +among the still standing ruins. Oh, Peggy"--he gripped her arm--"you +dear people haven't the remotest conception of what it all is--what +France has suffered. Imagine this mass of wonder all one horrible +stone pie, without a trace of what it once had been." + +"I suppose we're jolly lucky," she replied. + +The door was opened by the old butler, who had been on the alert for +the arrival. + +"You run in," said Peggy, "I'll take the car round to the yard." + +So Doggie, with a smile and a word of greeting, entered the Deanery. +His uncle appeared in the hall, florid, white-haired, benevolent, and +extended both hands to the home-come warrior. + +"My dear boy, how glad I am to see you. Welcome back. And how's the +wound? We've thought night and day of you. If I could have spared the +time, I should have run up north, but I've not a minute to call my +own. We're doing our share of war work here, my boy. Come into the +drawing-room." + +He put his hand affectionately on Doggie's arm and, opening the +drawing-room door, pushed him in and stood, in his kind, courtly way, +until the young man had passed the threshold. Mrs. Conover, feeble +from illness, rose and kissed him, and gave him much the same greeting +as her husband. Then a tall, lean figure in uniform, who had remained +in the background by the fireplace, advanced with outstretched hand. + +"Hello, old chap!" + +Doggie took the hand in an honest grip. + +"Hello, Oliver!" + +"How goes it?" + +"Splendid," said Doggie. "You all right?" + +"Top-hole," said Oliver. He clapped his cousin on the shoulder. "My +hat! you do look fit." He turned to the Dean. "Uncle Edward, isn't he +a hundred times the man he was?" + +"I told you, my boy, you would see a difference," said the Dean. + +Peggy ran in, having delivered the two-seater to the care of +myrmidons. + +"Now that the affecting meeting is over, let us have tea. Oliver, ring +the bell." + +The tea came. It appeared to Doggie, handing round the three-tiered +silver cake-stand, that he had returned to some forgotten former +incarnation. The delicate china cup in his hand seemed too frail for +the material usages of life and he feared lest he should break it with +rough handling. Old habit, however, prevailed, and no one noticed his +sense of awkwardness. The talk lay chiefly between Oliver and himself. +They exchanged experiences as to dates and localities. They bandied +about the names of places which will be inscribed in letters of blood +in history for all time, as though they were popular golf-courses. +Both had known Ypres and Plug Street, and the famous wall at Arras, +where the British and German trenches were but five yards apart. +Oliver's division had gone down to the Somme in July for the great +push. + +"I ought to be there now," said Oliver. "I feel a hulking slacker and +fraud, being home on sick leave. But the M.O. said I had just escaped +shell-shock by the skin of my nerves, and they packed me home for a +fortnight to rest up--while the regiment, what there's left of it, +went into reserve." + +"Did you get badly cut up?" asked Doggie. + +"Rather. We broke through all right. Then machine guns which we had +overlooked got us in the back." + +"My lot's down there now," said Doggie. + +"You're well out of it, old chap," laughed Oliver. + +For the first time in his life Doggie began really to like Oliver. The +old-time swashbuckling swagger had gone--the swagger of one who would +say: "I am the only live man in this comatose crowd. I am the +dare-devil buccaneer who defies the thunder and sleeps on boards while +the rest of you are lying soft in feather-beds." His direct, cavalier +way he still retained; but the army, with the omnipotent might of its +inherited traditions, had moulded him to its pattern; even as it had +moulded Doggie. And Doggie, who had learned many of the lessons in +human psychology which the army teaches, knew that Oliver's genial, +familiar talk was not all due to his appreciation of their social +equality in the bosom of their own family, but that he would have +treated much the same any Tommy into whose companionship he had been +casually thrown. The Tommy would have said "sir" very scrupulously, +which on Doggie's part would have been an idiotic thing to do; but +they would have got on famously together, bound by the freemasonry of +fighting men who had cursed the same foe for the same reasons. So +Oliver stood out before Doggie's eyes in a new light, that of the +typical officer trusted and beloved by his men, and his heart went out +to him. + +"I've brought Chipmunk over," said Oliver. "You remember the freak? +The poor devil hasn't had a day's leave for a couple of years. Didn't +want it. Why should he go and waste money in a country where he didn't +know a human being? But this time I've fixed it up for him and his +leave is coterminous with mine. He has been my servant all through. If +they took him away from me, he'd be quite capable of strangling the +C.O. He's a funny beggar." + +"And what kind of a soldier?" the Dean asked politely. + +"There's not a finer one in all the armies of the earth," said Oliver. + +After much further talk the dressing-gong boomed softly through the +house. + +"You've got the green room, Marmaduke," said Peggy. "The one with the +Chippendale stuff you used to covet so much." + +"I haven't got much to change into," laughed Doggie. + +"You'll find Peddle up there waiting for you," she replied. + +And when Doggie entered the green room there he found Peddle, who +welcomed him with tears of joy and a display of all the finikin +luxuries of the toilet and adornment which he had left behind at Denby +Hall. There were pots of pomade and face-cream, and nail-polish; +bottles of hair-wash and tooth-wash; little boxes and brushes for the +moustache, half a dozen gleaming razors, an array of brushes and combs +and manicure-set in tortoise-shell with his crest in silver, bottles +of scent with spray attachments; the onyx bowl of bath salts beside +the hip-bath ready to be filled from the ewers of hot and cold +water--the Deanery, old-fashioned house, had but one family bath-room; +the deep purple silk dressing-gown over the foot-rail of the bed, the +silk pyjamas in a lighter shade spread out over the pillow, the silk +underwear and soft-fronted shirt fitted with his ruby and diamond +sleeve-links, hung up before the fire to air; the dinner jacket suit +laid out on the glass-topped Chippendale table, with black tie and +delicate handkerchief; the silk socks carefully tucked inside out, the +glossy pumps with the silver shoe-horn laid across them. + +"My God! Peddle," cried Doggie, scratching his closely cropped head. +"What the devil's all this?" + +Peddle, grey, bent, uncomprehending, regarded him blankly. + +"All what, sir?" + +"I only want to wash my hands," said Doggie. + +"But aren't you going to dress for dinner, sir?" + +"A private soldier's not allowed to wear mufti, Peddle. They'd dock me +of a week's pay if they found out." + +"Who's to find out, sir?" + +"There's Mr. Oliver--he's a Major." + +"Lord, Mr. Marmaduke, I don't think he'd mind. Miss Peggy gave me my +orders, sir, and I think you can leave things to her." + +"All right, Peddle," he laughed. "If it's Miss Peggy's decree, I'll +change. I've got all I want." + +"Are you sure you can manage, sir?" Peddle asked anxiously, for time +was when Doggie couldn't stick his legs into his trousers unless +Peddle held them out for him. + +"Quite," said Doggie. + +"It seems rather roughing it here, Mr. Marmaduke, after what you've +been accustomed to at the Hall." + +"That's so," said Doggie. "And it's martyrdom compared with what it is +in the trenches. There we always have a major-general to lace up our +boots, and a field-marshal's always hovering round to light our +cigarettes." + +Peddle, who had never known him to jest, or his father before him, +went out in a muddled frame of mind, leaving Doggie to struggle into +his dress trousers as best he might. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +When Doggie, in dinner suit, went downstairs, he found Peggy alone in +the drawing-room. She gave him the kiss of one accustomed to kiss him +from childhood, and sat down again on the fender-stool. + +"Now you look more like a Christian gentleman," she laughed. "Confess. +It's much more comfortable than your wretched private's uniform." + +"I'm not quite so sure," he said, somewhat ruefully, indicating his +dinner jacket tightly constricted beneath the arms. "Already I've had +to slit my waistcoat down the back. Poor old Peddle will have an +apoplectic fit when he sees it. I've grown a bit since these elegant +rags were made for me." + +"_Il faut souffrir pour etre beau_," said Peggy. + +"If my being _beau_ pleases you, Peggy, I'll suffer gladly. I've been +in tighter places." He threw himself down in the corner of the sofa +and joggled up and down like a child. "After all," he said, "it's +jolly to sit on something squashy again, and to see a pretty girl in a +pretty frock." + +"I'm glad you like this frock." + +"New?" + +She nodded. "Dad said it was too much of a Vanity Fair of a vanity for +war-time. You don't think so, do you?" + +"It's charming," said Doggie. "A treat for tired eyes." + +"That's just what I told dad. What's the good of women dressing in +sacks tied round the middle with a bit of string? When men come home +from the Front they want to see their womenfolk looking pretty and +dainty. That's what they've come over for. It's part of the cure. It's +the first time you've been a real dear, Marmaduke. 'A treat for tired +eyes.' I'll rub it into dad hard." + +Oliver came in--in khaki. Doggie jumped up and pointed to him. + +"Look here, Peggy. It's the guard-room for me." + +Oliver laughed. "Where the dinner kit I bought when I came home is +now, God only can tell." He turned to Peggy. "I did change, you know." + +"That's the pull of being a beastly Major," said Doggie. "They have +heaps of suits. On the march, there are motor-lorries full of them. +It's the scandal of the army. The wretched Tommy has but one suit to +his name. That's why, sir, I've taken the liberty of appearing before +you in outgrown mufti." + +"All right, my man," said Oliver. "We'll hush it up and say no more +about it." + +Then the Dean and Mrs. Conover entered and soon they went in to +dinner. It was for Doggie the most pleasant of meals. He had the +superbly healthy man's whole-hearted or whole-stomached appreciation +of unaccustomed good food and drink: so much so, that when the Dean, +after agonies of thwarted mastication, said gently to his wife: "My +dear, don't you think you might speak a word in season to Peck"--Peck +being the butcher--"and forbid him, under the Defence of the Realm +Act, if you like, to deliver to us in the evening as lamb that which +was in the morning a lusty sheep?" he stared at the good old man as +though he were Vitellius in person. Tough? It was like milk-fatted +baby. He was already devouring, like Oliver, his second helping. Then +the Dean, pledging him and Oliver in champagne, apologized: "I'm +sorry, my dear boys, the 1904 has run out and there's no more to be +got. But the 1906, though not having the quality, is quite drinkable." + +Drinkable! It was laughing, dancing joy that went down his throat. + +So much for gross delights. There were others--finer. The charm to the +eye of the table with its exquisite napery and china and glass and +silver and flowers. The almost intoxicating atmosphere of peace and +gentle living. The full, loving welcome shining from the eyes of the +kind old Dean, his uncle by marriage, and of the faded, delicate lady, +his own flesh and blood, his mother's sister. And Peggy, pretty, +flushed, bright-eyed, radiant in her new dress. And there was +Oliver.... + +Most of all he appreciated Oliver's comrade-like attitude. It was a +recognition of him as a man and a soldier. In the course of dinner +talk Oliver said: + +"J.M.T. and I have looked Death in the face many a time--and really +he's a poor raw-head and bloody-bones sort of Bogey; don't you think +so, old chap?" + +"It all depends on whether you've got a funk-hole handy," he replied. + +But that was mere lightness of speech. Oliver's inclusion of him in +his remark shook him to the depths of his sensitive nature. The man +who despises the petty feelings and frailties of mankind is doomed to +remain in awful ignorance of that which there is of beauty and pathos +in the lives of his fellow-creatures. After all, what did it matter +what Oliver thought of him? Who was Oliver? His cousin--accident of +birth--the black sheep of the family; now a major in a different +regiment and a different division. What was Oliver to him or he to +Oliver? He had "made good" in the eyes of one whose judgment had been +forged keen and absolute by heroic sorrows. What did anyone else +matter? But to Doggie the supreme joy of the evening was the knowledge +that he had made good in the eyes of Oliver. Oliver wore on his tunic +the white mauve and white ribbon of the Military Cross. Honour where +honour was due. But he, Doggie, had been wounded (no matter how) and +Oliver frankly put them both on the same plane of achievement, thus +wiping away, with generous hand, all hated memories of the past. + +When the ladies had left the room, history repeated itself, in that +the Dean was called away on business and the cousins were left alone +together over their wine. Said Doggie: + +"Do you remember the last time we sat at this table?" + +"Perfectly," replied Oliver, holding up a glass of the old Deanery +port to the light. "You were horrified at my attempting to clean out +my pipe with a dessert knife." + +Doggie laughed. "After all, it was a filthy thing to do." + +"I quite agree with you. Since then I've learned manners." + +"You also made me squirm at the idea of scooping out Boches' insides +with bayonets." + +"And you've learned not to squirm, so we're quits." + +"You thought me a rotten ass in those days, didn't you?" + +Oliver looked at him squarely. + +"I don't think it would hurt you now if I said that I did." He +laughed, stretched himself on his chair, thrusting both hands into his +trouser pockets. "In many ways, it's a jolly good old war, you +know--for those that pull through. It has taught us both a lot, +Marmaduke." + +Doggie wrinkled his forehead in his half-humorous way. + +"I wish it would teach people not to call me by that silly name." + +"I have always abominated it, as you may have observed," said Oliver. +"But in our present polite relations, old chap, what else is there?" + +"You ought to know----" + +Oliver stared at him. "You don't mean----?" + +"Yes, I do." + +"But you used to loathe it and I went on calling you 'Doggie' because +I knew you loathed it. I never dreamed of using it now." + +"I can't help it," replied Doggie. "The name got into the army and has +stuck to me right through, and now those I love and trust most in the +world, and who love and trust me, call me 'Doggie,' and I don't seem +to be able to answer to any other name. So, although I'm only a Tommy +and you're a devil of a swell of a second-in-command, yet if you want +to be friendly--well----" + +Oliver leaned forward quickly. "Of course I want to be friends, +Doggie, old chap. As for major and private--when you pass me in the +street you've dam well got to salute me, and that's all there is to +it--but otherwise it's all rot. And now we've got to the +heart-to-heart stage, don't you think you're a bit of a fool?" + +"I know it," said Doggie cheerfully. "The army has drummed that into +me, at any rate." + +"I mean in staying in the ranks. Why don't you apply for the Cadet +Corps and so get through to a commission again?" + +Doggie's brow grew dark. "I had all that out with Peggy long ago--when +things were perhaps somewhat different with me. I was sore all over. I +dare say you can understand. But now there are other reasons, much +stronger reasons. The only real happiness I've had in my life has been +as a Tommy. I'm not talking through my hat. The only real friends I've +ever made in my life are Tommies. I've found real things as a Tommy +and I'm not going to start all over again to find them in another +capacity." + +"You wouldn't have to start all over again," Oliver objected. + +"Oh yes, I should. Don't run away with the idea that I've been turned +by a miracle into a brawny hero. I'm not anything of the sort. To have +to lead men into action would be a holy terror. The old dread of +seeking new paths still acts, you see. I'm the same Doggie that +wouldn't go out to Huaheine with you. Only now I'm a private and I'm +used to it. I love it and I'm not going to change to the end of the +whole gory business. Of course Peggy doesn't like it," he added after +a sip of wine. "But I can't help that. It's a matter of temperament +and conscience--in a way, a matter of honour." + +"What has honour got to do with it?" asked Oliver. + +"I'll try to explain. It's somehow this way. When I came to my senses +after being chucked for incompetence--that was the worst hell I ever +went through in my life--and I enlisted, I swore that I would stick it +as a Tommy without anybody's sympathy, least of all that of the folks +here. And then I swore I'd make good to myself as a Tommy. I was just +beginning to feel happier when that infernal Boche sniper knocked me +out for a time. So, Peggy or no Peggy, I'm going through with it. I +suppose I'm telling you all this because I should like you to know." + +He passed his hand, in the familiar gesture, from back to front of his +short-cropped hair. Oliver smiled at the reminiscence of the old +disturbed Doggie; but he said very gravely: + +"I'm glad you've told me, old man. I appreciate it very much. I've +been through the ranks myself and know what it is--the bad and the +good. Many a man has found his soul that way----" + +"Good God!" cried Doggie, starting to his feet. "Do you say that too?" + +"Who else said it?" + +The quick question caused the blood to rush to Doggie's face. Oliver's +keen, half-mocking gaze held him. He cursed himself for an impulsive +idiot. The true answer to the question would be a confession of +Jeanne. The scene in the kitchen of Frelus swam before his eyes. He +dropped into his chair again with a laugh. + +"Oh, some one out there--in another heart-to-heart talk. As a matter +of fact, I think I said it myself. It's odd you should have used the +same words. Anyhow, you're the only other person who has hit on the +truth as far as I'm concerned. Finding one's soul is a bit +high-falutin--but that's about the size of it." + +"Peggy hasn't hit on the truth, then?" Oliver asked, with curious +earnestness, the shade of mockery gone. + +"The war has scarcely touched her yet, you see," said Doggie. He rose, +shrinking from discussion. "Shall we go in?" + +In the drawing-room they played bridge till the ladies' bedtime. The +Dean coming in, played the last rubber. + +"I hope you'll be able to sleep in a common or garden bed, Marmaduke," +said Peggy, and kissed him a perfunctory good night. + +"I have heard," remarked the Dean, "that it takes quite a time to grow +accustomed to the little amenities of civilization." + +"That's quite true, Uncle Edward," laughed Doggie. "I'm terrified at +the thought of the silk pyjamas Peddle has prescribed for me." + +"Why?" Peggy asked bluntly. + +Oliver interposed laughing, his hand on Doggie's shoulder. + +"Tommy's accustomed to go to bed in his day-shirt." + +"How perfectly disgusting!" cried Peggy, and swept from the room. + +Oliver dropped his hand and looked somewhat abashed. + +"I'm afraid I've been and gone and done it. I'm sorry. I'm still a +barbarian South Sea Islander." + +"I wish I were a young man," said the Dean, moving from the door and +inviting them to sit, "and could take part in these strange hardships. +This question of night attire, for instance, has never struck me +before. The whole thing is of amazing interest. Ah! what it is to be +old! If I were young, I should be with you, cloth or no cloth, in the +trenches. I hope both of you know that I vehemently dissent from those +bishops who prohibit the younger clergy from taking their place in the +fighting line. If God's archangels and angels themselves took up the +sword against the Powers of Darkness, surely a stalwart young curate +of the Church of England would find his vocation in warring with rifle +and bayonet against the proclaimed enemies of God and mankind?" + +"The influence of the twenty thousand or so of priests fighting in the +French Army is said to be enormous," Oliver remarked. + +The Dean sighed. "I'm afraid we're losing a big chance." + +"Why don't you take up the Fiery Cross, Uncle Edward, and run a new +Crusade?" + +The Dean sighed. Five-and-thirty years ago, when he had set all +Durdlebury by the ears, he might have preached glorious heresy and +heroic schism; but now the immutability of the great grey fabric had +become part of his being. + +"I've done my best, my boy," he replied, "with the result that I am +held in high disfavour." + +"But that doesn't matter a little bit." + +"Not a little bit," said the Dean. "A man can only do his duty +according to the dictates of his conscience. I have publicly deplored +the attitude of the Church of England. I have written to _The Times_. +I have published a pamphlet--I sent you each a copy--which has brought +a hornets' nest about my ears. I have warned those in high places that +what they are doing is not in the best interests of the Church. But +they won't listen." + +Oliver lit a pipe. "I'm afraid, Uncle Edward," he said, "that though I +come of a clerical family, I know no more of religion than a Hun +bishop; but it has always struck me that the Church's job is to look +after the people, whereas, as far as I can make out, the Church is now +squealing because the people won't look after the Church." + +The Dean rose. "I won't go as far as that," said he with a smile. "But +there is, I fear, some justification for such a criticism from the +laity. As soon as the war began the Church should have gathered the +people together and said, 'Onward, Christian soldiers. Go and fight +like--er----'" + +"Like hell," suggested Oliver, greatly daring. + +"Or words to that effect," smiled the old Dean. He looked at his +watch. "Dear, dear! past eleven. I wish I could sit up talking to you +boys. But I start my day's work at eight o'clock. If you want +anything, you've only got to ring. Good night. It is one of the +proudest days of my life to have you both here together." + +His courtly charm seemed to linger in the room after he had left. + +"He's a dear old chap," said Oliver. + +"One of the best," said Doggie. + +"It's rather pathetic," said Oliver. "In his heart he would like to +play the devil with the bishops and kick every able-bodied parson into +the trenches--and there are thousands of them that don't need any +kicking and, on the contrary, have been kicked back; but he has become +half-petrified in the atmosphere of this place. It's lovely to come to +as a sort of funk-hole of peace--but my holy aunt!--What the blazes +are you laughing at?" + +"I'm only thinking of a beast of a boy here who used to say that," +replied Doggie. + +"Oh!" said Oliver, and he grinned. "Anyway, I was only going to remark +that if I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life here, I'd +paint the town vermilion for a week and then cut my throat." + +"I quite agree with you," said Doggie. + +"What are you going to do when the war's over?" + +"Who knows what he's going to do? What are you going to do? Fly back +to your little Robinson Crusoe Durdlebury of a Pacific Island? I don't +think so." + +Oliver stuck his pipe on the mantelpiece and his hands on his hips and +made a stride towards Doggie. + +"Damn you, Doggie! Damn you to little bits! How the Hades did you +guess what I've scarcely told myself, much less another human being?" + +"You yourself said it was a good old war and it has taught us a lot of +things." + +"It has," said Oliver. "But I never expected to hear Huaheine called +Durdlebury by you, Doggie. Oh, Lord! I must have another drink. +Where's your glass? Say when?" + +They parted for the night the best of friends. + +Doggie, in spite of the silk pyjamas and the soft bed and the blazing +fire in his room--he stripped back the light-excluding curtains +forgetful of Defence of the Realm Acts, and opened all the windows +wide, to the horror of Peddle in the morning--slept like an +unperturbed dormouse. When Peddle woke him, he lay drowsily while the +old butler filled his bath and fiddled about with drawers. At last +aroused, he cried out: + +"What the dickens are you doing?" + +Peddle turned with an injured air. "I am matching your ties and socks +for your bottle-green suit, sir." + +Doggie leaped out of bed. "You dear old idiot, I can't go about the +streets in bottle-green suits. I've got to wear my uniform." He looked +around the room. "Where the devil is it?" + +Peddle's injured air deepened almost into resentment. + +"Where the devil----!" Never had Mr. Marmaduke, or his father, the +Canon, used such language. He drew himself up. + +"I have given orders, sir, for the uniform suit you wore yesterday to +be sent to the cleaners." + +"Oh, hell!" said Doggie. And Peddle, unaccustomed to the vernacular of +the British Army, paled with horror. "Oh, hell!" said Doggie. "Look +here, Peddle, just you get on a bicycle, or a motor-car, or an express +train at once and retrieve that uniform. Don't you understand? I'm a +private soldier. I've got to wear uniform all the time, and I'll have +to stay in this beastly bed until you get it for me." + +Peddle fled. The picture that he left on Doggie's mind was that of the +faithful steward with dismayed, uplifted hands, retiring from the room +in one of the great scenes of Hogarth's "Rake's Progress." The +similitude made him laugh--for Doggie always had a saving sense of +humour--but he was very angry with Peddle, while he stamped around the +room in his silk pyjamas. What the deuce was he going to do? Even if +he committed the military crime (and there was a far more serious +crime already against him) of appearing in public in mufti, did that +old ass think he was going to swagger about Durdlebury in bottle-green +suits, as though he were ashamed of the King's uniform? He dipped his +shaving-brush into the hot water. Then he threw it, anyhow, across the +room. Instead of shaving, he would be gloating over the idea of +cutting that old fool, Peddle's, throat, and therefore would slash his +own face to bits. + +Things, however, were not done at lightning speed in the Deanery of +Durdlebury. The first steps had not even been taken to send the +uniform to the cleaners, and soon Peddle reappeared carrying it over +his arm and the heavy pair of munition boots in his hand. + +"These too, sir?" he asked, exhibiting the latter resignedly and +casting a sad glance at the neat pair of brown shoes exquisitely +polished and beautifully treed which he had put out for his master's +wear. + +"These too," said Doggie. "And where's my grey flannel shirt?" + +This time Peddle triumphed. "I've given that away, sir, to the +gardener's boy." + +"Well, you can just go and buy me half a dozen more like it," said +Doggie. + +He dismissed the old man, dressed and went downstairs. The Dean had +breakfasted at seven. Peggy and Oliver were not yet down for the nine +o'clock meal. Doggie strolled about the garden and sauntered round to +the stable-yard. There he encountered Chipmunk in his shirt-sleeves, +sitting on a packing case and polishing Oliver's leggings. He raised +an ugly, clean-shaven mug and scowled beneath his bushy eyebrows at +the new-comer. + +"Morning, mate!" said Doggie pleasantly. + +"Morning," said Chipmunk, resuming his work. + +Doggie turned over a stable bucket and sat down on it and lit a +cigarette. + +"Glad to be back?" + +Chipmunk poised the cloth on which he had poured some brown dressing. +"Not if I has to be worried with private soljers," he replied. "I came +'ere to get away from 'em." + +"What's wrong with private soldiers? They're good enough for you, +aren't they?" asked Doggie with a laugh. + +"Naow," snarled Chipmunk. "Especially when they ought to be orficers. +Go to 'ell!" + +Doggie, who had suffered much in the army, but had never before been +taunted with being a dilettante gentleman private, still less been +consigned to hell on that account, leapt to his feet shaken by one of +his rare sudden gusts of anger. + +"If you don't say I'm as good a private soldier as any in your rotten, +mangy regiment, I'll knock your blinking head off!" + +An insult to a soldier's regiment can only be wiped out in blood. +Chipmunk threw cloth and legging to the winds and, springing from his +seat like a monkey, went for Doggie. + +"You just try." + +Doggie tried, and had not Chipmunk's head been very firmly secured to +his shoulders, he would have succeeded. Chipmunk went down as if he +had been bombed. It was his unguarded and unscientific rush that did +it. Doggie regarded his prostrate figure in gratified surprise. + +"What's all this about?" cried a sharp, imperious voice. + +Doggie instinctively stood at attention and saluted, and Chipmunk, +picking himself up in a dazed sort of way, did likewise. + +"You two men shake hands and make friends at once," Oliver commanded. + +"Yes, sir," said Doggie. He extended his hand, and Chipmunk, with the +nautical shamble, which in moments of stress defied a couple of years' +military discipline, advanced and shook it. Oliver strode hurriedly +away. + +"I'm sorry I said that about the regiment, mate. I didn't mean it," +said Doggie. + +Chipmunk looked uncertainly into Doggie's eyes for what Doggie felt to +be a very long time. Chipmunk's dull brain was slowly realizing the +situation. The man opposite to him was his master's cousin. When he +had last seen him, he had no title to be called a man at all. His +vocabulary volcanically rich, but otherwise limited, had not been able +to express him in adequate terms of contempt and derision. Now behold +him masquerading as a private. Wounded. But any fool could get +wounded. Behold him further coming down from the social heights +whereon his master dwelt, to take a rise out of him, Chipmunk. In +self-defence he had taken the obvious course. He had told him to go to +hell. Then the important things had happened. Not the effeminate +gentleman but some one very much like the common Tommy of his +acquaintance had responded. And he had further responded with the +familiar vigour but unwonted science of the rank and file. He had also +stood at attention and saluted and obeyed like any common Tommy, when +the Major appeared. The last fact appealed to him, perhaps, as much as +the one more invested in violence. + +"'Ere," said he at last, jerking his head and rubbing his jaw, "how +the 'ell did you do it?" + +"We'll get some gloves and I'll show you," said Doggie. + +So peace and firm friendship were made. Doggie went into the house and +in the dining-room found Oliver in convulsive laughter. + +"Oh, my holy aunt! You'll be the death of me, Doggie. 'Yes, sir!'" He +mimicked him. "The perfect Tommy. After doing in old Chipmunk. +Chipmunk with the strength of a gorilla and the courage of a lion. I +just happened round to see him go down. How the blazes did you manage +it, Doggie?" + +"That's what Chipmunk's just asked me," Doggie replied. "I belong to a +regiment where boxing is taught. Really a good regiment," he grinned. +"There's a sergeant-instructor, a chap called Ballinghall----" + +"Not Joe Ballinghall, the well-known amateur heavy-weight?" + +"That's him right enough," said Doggie. + +"My dear old chap," said Oliver, "this is the funniest war that ever +was." + +Peggy sailed in full of apologies and began to pour out coffee. + +"Do help yourselves. I'm so sorry to have kept you poor hungry things +waiting." + +"We've filled up the time amazingly," cried Oliver, waving a silver +dish-cover. "What do you think? Doggie's had a fight with Chipmunk and +knocked him out." + +Peggy splashed the milk over the brim of Doggie's cup and into the +saucer. There came a sudden flush on her cheek and a sudden hard look +into her eyes. + +"Fighting? Do you mean to say you've been fighting with a common man +like Chipmunk?" + +"We're the best of friends now," said Doggie. "We understand each +other." + +"I can't quite see the necessity," said Peggy. + +"I'm afraid it's rather hard to explain," he replied with a rueful +knitting of the brows, for he realized her disgust at the vulgar +brawl. + +"I think the less said the better," she remarked acidly. + +The meal proceeded in ominous gloom, and as soon as Peggy had finished +she left the room. + +"It seems, old chap, that I can never do right," said Oliver. "Long +ago, when I used to crab you, she gave it to me in the neck; and now +when I try to boost you, you seem to get it." + +"I'm afraid I've got on Peggy's nerves," said Doggie. "You see, we've +only met once before during the last two years, and I suppose I've +changed." + +"There's no doubt about that, old son," said Oliver. "But all the +same, Peggy has stood by you like a brick, hasn't she?" + +"That's the devil of it," replied Doggie, rubbing up his hair. + +"Why the devil of it?" Oliver asked quickly. + +"Oh, I don't know," replied Doggie. "As you have once or twice +observed, it's a funny old war." + +He rose, went to the door. + +"Where are you off to?" asked Oliver. + +"I'm going to Denby Hall to take a look round." + +"Like me to come with you? We can borrow the two-seater." + +Doggie advanced a pace. "You're an awfully good sort, Oliver," he +said, touched, "but would you mind--I feel rather a beast----" + +"All right, you silly old ass," cried Oliver cheerily. "You want, of +course, to root about there by yourself. Go ahead." + +"If you'll take a spin with me this afternoon, or to-morrow----" said +Doggie in his sensitive way. + +"Oh, clear out!" laughed Oliver. + +And Doggie cleared. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +"All right, Peddle, I can find my way about," said Doggie, dismissing +the old butler and his wife after a little colloquy in the hall. + +"Everything's in perfect order, sir, just as it was when you left; and +there are the keys," said Mrs. Peddle. + +The Peddles retired. Doggie eyed the heavy bunch of keys with an air +of distaste. For two years he had not seen a key. What on earth could +be the good of all this locking and unlocking? He stuffed the bunch in +his tunic pocket and looked around him. It seemed difficult to realize +that everything he saw was his own. Those trees visible from the hall +windows were his own, and the land on which they grew. This spacious, +beautiful house was his own. He had only to wave a hand, as it were, +and it would be filled with serving men and serving maids ready to do +his bidding. His foot was on his native heath, and his name was James +Marmaduke Trevor. + +Did he ever actually live here, have his being here? Was he ever part +and parcel of it all--the Oriental rugs, the soft stair-carpet on the +noble oak staircase leading to the gallery, the oil paintings, the +impressive statuary, the solid, historical, oak hall furniture? Were +it not so acutely remembered, he would have felt like a man accustomed +all his life to barns and tents and hedgerows and fetid holes in the +ground, who had wandered into some ill-guarded palace. He entered the +drawing-room. The faithful Peddles, with pathetic zeal to give him a +true home-coming, had set it out fresh and clean and polished; the +windows were like crystal, and flowers welcomed him from every +available vase. And so in the dining-room. The Chippendale +dining-table gleamed like a sombre translucent pool. On the sideboard, +amid the array of shining silver, the very best old Waterford +decanters filled with whisky and brandy, and old cut-glass goblets +invited him to refreshment. The precious mezzotint portraits, mostly +of his own collecting, regarded him urbanely from the walls. _The +Times_ and the _Morning Post_ were laid out on the little table by his +accustomed chair near the massive marble mantelpiece. + +"The dear old idiots," said Doggie, and he sat down for a moment and +unfolded the newspapers and strewed them around, to give the +impression that he had read and enjoyed them. + +And then he went into his own private and particular den, the peacock +and ivory room, which had been the supreme expression of himself and +for which he had ached during many nights of misery. He looked round +and his heart sank. He seemed to come face to face with the +ineffectual, effeminate creature who had brought upon him the disgrace +of his man's life. But for the creator and sybarite enjoyer of this +sickening boudoir, he would now be in honoured command of men. He +conceived a sudden violent hatred of the room. The only thing in the +place worth a man's consideration, save a few water-colours, was the +honest grand piano, which, because it did not aesthetically harmonize +with his squeaky, pot-bellied theorbos and tinkling spinet, he had +hidden in an alcove behind a curtain. He turned an eye of disgust on +the vellum backs of his books in the closed Chippendale cases, on the +drawers containing his collection of wall-papers, on the footling +peacocks, on the curtains and cushions, on the veined ivory paper +which, beginning to fade two years ago, now looked mean and +meaningless. It was an abominable room. It ought to be smelling of +musk or pastilles or joss-sticks. It might have done so, for once he +had tried something of the sort, and did not renew the experiment only +because the smell happened to make him sick. + +There was one feature of the room at which for a long time he avoided +looking: but wherever he turned, it impressed itself on his +consciousness as the miserable genius of the despicable place. And +that was his collection of little china dogs. + +At last he planted himself in front of the great glass cabinet, whence +thousands of little dogs looked at him out of little black dots of +eyes. There were dogs of all nationalities, all breeds, all twisted +enormities of human invention. There were monstrous dogs of China and +Japan; Aztec dogs; dogs in Sevres and Dresden and Chelsea; sixpenny +dogs from Austria and Switzerland; everything in the way of a little +dog that man had made. He stood in front of it with almost a doggish +snarl on his lips. He had spent hundreds and hundreds of pounds over +these futile dogs. Yet never a flesh and blood, real, lusty _canis +futilis_ had he possessed. He used to dislike real dogs. The shivering +rat, Goliath, could scarcely be called a dog. He had wasted his heart +over these contemptible counterfeits. To add to his collection, +catalogue it, describe it, correspond about it with the semi-imbecile +Russian prince, his only rival collector, had once ranked with his +history of wall-papers as the serious and absorbing pursuit of his +life. + +Then suddenly Doggie's hatred reached the crisis of ferocity. He saw +red. He seized the first instrument of destruction that came to his +hand, a little gilt Louis XV music stool, and bashed the cabinet full +in front. The glass flew into a thousand splinters. He bashed again. +The woodwork of the cabinet, stoutly resisting, worked hideous damage +on the gilt stool. But Doggie went on bashing till the cabinet sank in +ruins and the little dogs, headless, tailless, rent in twain, strewed +the floor. Then Doggie stamped on them with his heavy munition boots +until dogs and glass were reduced to powder and the Aubusson carpet +was cut to pieces. + +"Damn the whole infernal place!" cried Doggie, and he heaved a +mandolin tied up with disgusting peacock-blue ribbons at the bookcase, +and fled from the room. + +He stood for a while in the hall, shaken with his anger; then mounted +the staircase and went into his own bedroom with the satinwood +furniture and nattier blue hangings. God! what a bedchamber for a man! +He would have liked to throw bombs into the nest of effeminacy. But +his mother had arranged it, so in a way it was immune from his +iconoclastic rage. He went down to the dining-room, helped himself to +a whisky and soda from the sideboard, and sat down in the arm-chair +amidst the scattered newspapers and held his head in his hands and +thought. + +The house was hateful; all its associations were hateful. If he lived +there until he was ninety, the abhorred ghost of the pre-war little +Doggie Trevor would always haunt every nook and cranny of the place, +mouthing the quarter of a century's shame that had culminated in the +Great Disgrace. At last he brought his hand down with a bang on the +arm of his chair. He would never live in this House of Dishonour +again. Never. He would sell it. + +"By God!" he cried, starting to his feet, as the inspiration came. + +He would sell it, as it stood, lock, stock and barrel, with everything +in it. He would wipe out at one stroke the whole of his unedifying +history. Denby Hall gone, what could tie him to Durdlebury? He would +be freed, for ever, from the petrification of the grey, cramping +little city. If Peggy didn't like it, that was Peggy's affair. In +material things he was master of his destiny. Peggy would have to +follow him in his career, whatever it was, not he Peggy. He saw +clearly that which had been mapped out for him, the silly little +social ambitions, the useless existence, little Doggie Trevor for ever +trailing obediently behind the lady of Denby Hall. Doggie threw +himself back in his chair and laughed. No one had ever heard him laugh +like that. After a while he was even surprised at himself. + +He was perfectly ready to marry Peggy. It was almost a preordained +thing. A rupture of the engagement was unthinkable. Her undeviating +loyalty bound him by every fibre of gratitude and honour. But it was +essential that Peggy should know whom and what she was marrying. The +Doggie trailing in her wake no longer existed. If she were prepared to +follow the new Doggie, well and good. If not, there would be conflict. +For that he was prepared. + +He strode, this time contemptuously, into his wrecked peacock and +ivory room, where his telephone (blatant and hideous thing) was +ingeniously concealed behind a screen, and rang up Spooner and +Smithson, the leading firm of auctioneers and estate agents in the +town. At the mention of his name, Mr. Spooner, the senior partner, +came to the telephone. + +"Yes, I'm back, Mr. Spooner, and I'm quite well," said Doggie. "I want +to see you on very important business. When can you fix it up? Any +time? Can you come along now to Denby Hall?" + +Mr. Spooner would be pleased to wait upon Mr. Trevor immediately. He +would start at once. Doggie went out and sat on the front doorstep and +smoked cigarettes till he came. + +"Mr. Spooner," said he, as soon as the elderly auctioneer descended +from his little car, "I'm going to sell the whole of the Denby Hall +estate, and, with the exception of a few odds and ends, family relics +and so forth, which I'll pick out, all the contents of the +house--furniture, pictures, sheets, towels and kitchen clutter. I've +only got six days' leave, and I want all the worries, as far as I am +concerned, settled and done with before I go. So you'll have to buck +up, Mr. Spooner. If you say you can't do it, I'll put the business by +telephone into the hands of a London agent." + +It took Mr. Spooner nearly a quarter of an hour to recover his breath, +gain a grasp of the situation and assemble his business wits. + +"Of course I'll carry out your instructions, Mr. Trevor," he said at +last. "You can safely leave the matter in our hands. But, although it +is against my business interests, pray let me beg you to reconsider +your decision. It is such a beautiful home, your grandfather, the +Bishop's, before you." + +"He bought it pretty cheap, didn't he, somewhere in the 'seventies?" + +"I forget the price he paid for it, but I could look it up. Of course +we were the agents." + +"And then it was let to some dismal people until my father died and my +mother took it over. I'm sorry I can't get sentimental about it, as if +it were an ancestral hall, Mr. Spooner. I want to get rid of the +place, because I hate the sight of it." + +"It would be presumptuous of me to say anything more," answered the +old-fashioned country auctioneer. + +"Say what you like, Mr. Spooner," laughed Doggie in his disarming way. +"We're old friends. But send in your people this afternoon to start on +inventories and measuring up, or whatever they do, and I'll look round +to-morrow and select the bits I may want to keep. You'll see after the +storing of them, won't you?" + +"Of course, Mr. Trevor." + +Mr. Spooner drove away in his little car, a much dazed man. + +Like the rest of Durdlebury and the circumjacent county, he had +assumed that when the war was over Mr. James Marmaduke Trevor would +lead his bride from the Deanery into Denby Hall, where the latter, in +her own words, would proceed to make things hum. + +"My dear," said he to his wife at luncheon, "you could have knocked me +over with a feather. What he's doing it for, goodness knows. I can +only assume that he has grown so accustomed to the destruction of +property in France, that he has got bitten by the fever." + +"Perhaps Peggy Conover has turned him down," suggested his wife, who, +much younger than he, employed more modern turns of speech. "And I +shouldn't wonder if she has. Since the war girls aren't on the look +out for pretty monkeys." + +"If Miss Conover thinks she has got hold of a pretty monkey in that +young man, she is very much mistaken," replied Mr. Spooner. + +Meanwhile Doggie summoned Peddle to the hall. He knew that his +announcement would be a blow to the old man; but this was a world of +blows; and after all, one could not organize one's life to suit the +sentiments of old family idiots of retainers, served they never so +faithfully. + +"Peddle," said he, "I'm sorry to say I'm going to sell Denby Hall. +Messrs. Spooner and Smithson's people are coming in this afternoon. So +give them every facility. Also tea, or beer, or whisky, or whatever +they want. About what's going to happen to you and Mrs. Peddle, don't +worry a bit. I'll look after that. You've been jolly good friends of +mine all my life, and I'll see that everything's as right as rain." + +He turned, before the amazed old butler could reply, and marched away. +Peddle gaped at his retreating figure. If those were the ways which +Mr. Marmaduke had learned in the army, the lower sank the army in +Peddle's estimation. To sell Denby Hall over his head! Why, the place +and all about it was _his_! So deeply are squatters' rights implanted +in the human instinct. + +Doggie marched along the familiar high road, strangely exhilarated. +What was to be his future he neither knew nor cared. At any rate, it +would not lie in Durdlebury. He had cut out Durdlebury for ever from +his scheme of existence. If he got through the war, he and Peggy would +go out somewhere into the great world where there was man's work to +do. Parliament! Peggy had suggested it as a sort of country +gentleman's hobby that would keep him amused during the London +seasons--so might prospective bride have talked to prospective husband +fifty years ago. Parliament! God help him and God help Peggy if ever +he got into Parliament. He would speak the most unpopular truths about +the race of politicians if ever he got into Parliament. Peggy would +wish that neither of them had ever been born. He held the trenches' +views on politicians. No fear. No muddy politics as an elegant +amusement for him. He laughed as he had laughed in the dining-room at +Denby Hall. + +He would have a bad quarter of an hour with Peggy. Naturally. She +would say, and with every right: "What about me? Am I not to be +considered?" Yes, of course she would be considered. The position his +fortune assured him would always be hers. He had no notion of asking +her to share a log cabin in the wilds of Canada, or to bury herself in +Oliver's dud island of Huaheine. The great world would be before them. +"But give me some sort of an idea of what you propose to do," she +would with perfect propriety demand. And there Doggie was stuck. He +had not the ghost of a programme. All he had was faith in the war, +faith in the British spirit and genius that would bring it to a +perfect end, in which there would be unimagined opportunities for a +man to fling himself into a new life, and new conditions, and begin +the new work of a new civilization. + +"If she'll only understand," said he, "that I can't go back to those +blasted little dogs, all will be well." + +Not quite all. Although his future was as nebulous as the planetary +system in the Milky Way, at the back of his mind was a vague conviction +that it would be connected somehow with the welfare of those men whom +he had learned to know and love: the men to whom reading was little +pleasure, writing a school-child's laborious task, the glories of the +earth as interpreted through art a sealed book; the men whose daily +speech was foul metaphor; the men, hemi-demi-semi-educated, whose +crude socialistic opinions the open lessons of history and the eternal +facts of human nature derisively refuted; the men who had sweated and +slaved in factory and in field to no other purpose than to obey the +biological laws of the perpetuation of the species; yet the men with +the sweet minds of children, the gushing tenderness of women, the +hearts of lions; the men compared to whom the rotten squealing heroes +of Homer were a horde of cowardly savages. They were _men_, these +comrades of his, swift with all that there can be of divine glory in +men. + +And when they came home and the high gods sounded the false trumpet of +peace? + +There would be men's work in England for all the Doggies in England to +do. + +Again, if Peggy could understand this, all would be well. If she +missed the point altogether, and tauntingly advised him to go and join +his friends the Socialists at once--then--he shoved his cap to the +back of his head and wrinkled his forehead--then---- + +"Everything will be in the soup," said he. + +These reflections brought him to the Deanery. The nearest way of +entrance was the stable-yard gate, which was always open. He strode +in, waved a hand to Chipmunk who was sitting on the ground with his +back against the garage, smoking a pipe, and entered the house by the +French window of the dining-room. Where should he find Peggy? His +whole mind was set on the immediate interview. Obviously the +drawing-room was the first place of search. He opened the drawing-room +door, the hinges and lock oily, noiseless, perfectly ordained, like +everything in the perfectly ordained English Deanery, and strode in. + +His entrance was so swift, so protected from sound, that the pair had +no time to start apart before he was there, with his amazed eyes full +upon them. Peggy's hands were on Oliver's shoulders, tears were +streaming down her face, as her head was thrown back from him, and +Oliver's arm was around her. Her back was to the door. Oliver withdrew +his arm and retired a pace or two. + +"Lord Almighty," he whispered, "here's Doggie!" + +Then Peggy, realizing what had happened, wheeled round and stared +tragically at Doggie, who, preoccupied with the search for her, had +not removed his cap. He drew himself up. + +"I beg your pardon," he said with imperturbable irony, and turned. + +Oliver rushed across the room. + +"Stop, you silly fool!" + +He slammed the open door, caught Doggie by the arm and dragged him +away from the threshold. His blue eyes blazed and the lips beneath the +short-cropped moustache quivered. + +"It's all my fault, Doggie. I'm a beast and a cad and anything you +like to call me. But for things you said last night--well--no, hang it +all, there's no excuse. Everything's on me. Peggy's as true as gold." + +Peggy, red-eyed, pale-cheeked, stood a little way back, silent, on the +defensive. Doggie, looking from one to the other, said quietly: + +"A triangular explanation is scarcely decent. Perhaps you might let me +have a word or two with Peggy." + +"Yes. It would be best," she whispered. + +"I'll be in the dining-room if you want me," said Oliver, and went +out. + +Doggie took her hand and, very gently, led her to a chair. + +"Let us sit down. There," said he, "now we can talk more comfortably. +First, before we touch on this situation, let me say something to you. +It may ease things." + +Peggy, humiliated, did not look at him. She nodded. + +"All right." + +"I made up my mind this morning to sell Denby Hall and its contents. +I've given old Spooner instructions." + +She glanced at him involuntarily. "Sell Denby Hall?" + +"Yes, dear. You see, I have made up my mind definitely, if I'm spared, +not to live in Durdlebury after the war." + +"What were you thinking of doing?" she asked, in a low voice. + +"That would depend on after-war circumstances. Anyhow, I was coming to +you, when I entered the room, with my decision. I knew, of course, +that it wouldn't please you--that you would have something to say to +it--perhaps something very serious." + +"What do you mean by something very serious?" + +"Our little contract, dear," said Doggie, "was based on the +understanding that you would not be uprooted from the place in which +are all your life's associations. If I broke that understanding it +would leave you a free agent to determine the contract, as the lawyers +say. So perhaps, Peggy dear, we might dismiss--well--other +considerations, and just discuss this." + +Peggy twisted a rag of handkerchief and wavered for a moment. Then she +broke out, with fresh tears on her cheek. + +"You're a dear of dears to put it that way. Only you could do it. I've +been a brute, old boy; but I couldn't help it. I _did_ try to play the +game." + +"You did, Peggy dear. You've been wonderful." + +"And although it didn't look like it, I was trying to play the game +when you came in. I really was. And so was he." She rose and threw the +handkerchief away from her. "I'm not going to step out of the +engagement by the side door you've left open for me, you dear old +simple thing. It stands if you like. We're all honourable people, and +Oliver"--she drew a sharp little breath--"Oliver will go out of our +lives." + +Doggie smiled--he had risen--and taking her hands, kissed them. + +"I've never known what a splendid Peggy it is, until I lose her. Look +here, dear, here's the whole thing in a nutshell. While I've been +morbidly occupied with myself and my grievances and my disgrace and my +efforts to pull through, and have gradually developed into a sort of +half-breed between a Tommy and a gentleman with every mortal thing in +me warped and changed, you've stuck to the original rotten ass you +lashed into the semblance of a man, in this very room, goodness knows +how many months, or years, or centuries ago. In my infernal +selfishness, I've treated you awfully badly." + +"No, you haven't," she decided stoutly. + +"Yes, I have. The ordinary girl would have told a living experiment +like me to go hang long before this. But you didn't. And now you see a +totally different sort of Doggie and you're making yourself miserable +because he's a queer, unsympathetic, unfamiliar stranger." + +"All that may be so," she said, meeting his eyes bravely. "But if the +unfamiliar Doggie still cares for me, it doesn't matter." + +Here was a delicate situation. Two very tender-skinned vanities +opposed to each other. The smart of seeing one's affianced bride in +the arms of another man hurts grievously sore. It's a primitive sex +affair, independent of love in its modern sense. If the savage's +abandoned squaw runs off with another fellow, he pursues him with +clubs and tomahawks until he has avenged the insult. Having known ME, +to decline to Spotted Crocodile! So the finest flower of civilization +cannot surrender the lady who once was his to the more favoured male +without a primitive pang. On the other hand, Doggie knew very well +that he did not love Peggy, that he had never loved Peggy. But how in +common decency could a man tell a girl, who had wasted a couple of +years of her life over him, that he had never loved her? Instead of +replying to her questions, he walked about the room in a worried way. + +"I take it," said Peggy incisively, after a while, "that you don't +care for me any longer." + +He turned and halted at the challenge. He snapped his fingers. What +was the good of all this beating of the bush? + +"Look here, Peggy, let's face it out. If you'll confess that you and +Oliver are in love with each other, I'll confess to a girl in France." + +"Oh?" said Peggy, with a swift change to coolness. "There's a girl in +France, is there? How long has this been going on?" + +"The last four days in billets before I got wounded," said Doggie. + +"What is she like?" + +Then Doggie suddenly laughed out loud and took her by the shoulders in +a grasp rougher than she had ever dreamed to lie in the strength or +nature of Marmaduke Trevor, and kissed her the heartiest, honestest +kiss she had ever had from man, and rushed out of the room. + +Presently he returned, dragging with him the disconsolate Major. + +"Here," said he, "fix it up between you. I've told Peggy about a girl +in France and she wants to know what she's like." + +Peggy, shaken by the rude grip and the kiss, flashed and cried +rebelliously: + +"I'm not quite so sure that I want to fix it up with Oliver." + +"Oh yes, you do," cried Oliver. + +He snatched up Doggie's cap and jammed it on Doggie's head and cried: + +"Doggie, you're the best and truest and finest of dear old chaps in +the whole wide world." + +Doggie settled his cap, grinned, and moved to the door. + +"Anything else, sir?" + +Oliver roared, delighted: "No, Private Trevor, you can go." + +"Very good, sir." + +Doggie saluted smartly and went out. He passed through the French +window of the dining-room into the mellow autumn sunshine. Found +himself standing in front of Chipmunk, who still smoked the pipe of +elegant leisure by the door of the garage. + +"This is a dam good old world all the same. Isn't it?" said he. + +"If it was always like this, it would have its points," replied the +unworried Chipmunk. + +Doggie had an inspiration. He looked at his watch. It was nearly one +o'clock. + +"Hungry?" + +"Always 'ungry. Specially about dinner-time." + +"Come along of me to the Downshire Arms and have a bite of dinner." + +Chipmunk rose slowly to his feet, and put his pipe into his tunic +pocket, and jerked a slow thumb backwards. + +"Ain't yer having yer meals 'ere?" + +"Only now and then, as sort of treats," said Doggie. "Come along." + +"Ker-ist!" said Chipmunk. "Can yer wait a bit until I've cleaned me +buttons?" + +"Oh, bust your old buttons!" laughed Doggie. "I'm hungry." + +So the pair of privates marched through the old city to the Downshire +Arms, the select, old-world hotel of Durdlebury, where Doggie was +known since babyhood; and there, sitting at a window table with +Chipmunk, he gave Durdlebury the great sensation of its life. If the +Dean himself, clad in tights and spangles, had juggled for pence by +the west door of the cathedral, tongues could scarcely have wagged +faster. But Doggie worried his head about gossip not one jot. He was +in joyous mood and ordered a gargantuan feast for Chipmunk and bottles +of the strongest old Burgundy, such as he thought would get a grip on +Chipmunk's whiskyfied throat; and under the genial influence of food +and drink, Chipmunk told him tales of far lands and strange +adventures; and when they emerged much later into the quiet streets, +it was the great good fortune of Chipmunk's life that there was not +the ghost of an Assistant Provost-Marshal in Durdlebury. + +"Doggie, old man," said Oliver afterwards, "my wonder and reverence +for you increases hour by hour. You are the only man in the whole +world who has ever made Chipmunk drunk." + +"You see," said Doggie modestly, "I don't think he ever really loved +anyone who fed him before." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Doggie, the lightest-hearted private in the British Army, danced, in a +metaphorical sense, back to London, where he stayed for the rest of +his leave at his rooms in Woburn Place; took his wholesome fill of +theatres and music-halls, going to those parts of the house where +Tommies congregate; and bought an old Crown Derby dinner service as a +wedding present for Peggy and Oliver, a tortoise-shell-fitted +dressing-case for Peggy, and for Oliver a magnificent gold watch that +was an encyclopaedia of current information. He had never felt so +happy in his life, so enchanted with the grimly smiling old world. +Were it not for the Boche, it could hold its own as a brave place with +any planet going. He blessed Oliver, who, in turn, had blessed him as +though he had displayed heroic magnanimity. He blessed Peggy, who, +flushed with love and happiness and gratitude, had shown him, for the +first time, what a really adorable young woman she could be. He +thanked Heaven for making three people happy, instead of three people +miserable. + +He marched along the wet pavements with a new light in his eyes, with +a new exhilarating breath in his nostrils. He was free. The war over, +he could do exactly what he liked. An untrammelled future lay before +him. During the war he could hop about trenches and shell-holes with +the freedom of a bird.... + +Those awful duty letters to Peggy! Only now he fully realized their +never-ending strain. Now he could write to her spontaneously, whenever +the mood suited, write to her from his heart: "Dear old Peggy, I'm so +glad you're happy. Oliver's a splendid chap. Et cetera, et cetera, et +cetera." He had lost a dreaded bride; but he had found a dear and +devoted friend. Nay, more: he had found two devoted friends. When he +drew up his account with humanity, he found himself passing rich in +love. + +His furlough expired, he reported at his depot, and was put on light +duty. He went about it the cheeriest soul alive, and laughed at the +memory of his former miseries as a recruit. This camp life in England, +after the mud and blood of France--like the African gentleman in Mr. +Addison's "Cato," he blessed his stars and thought it luxury. He was +not sorry that the exigencies of service prevented him from being +present at the wedding of Oliver and Peggy. For it was the most sudden +of phenomena, like the fight of two rams, as Shakespeare hath it. In +war-time people marry in haste; and often, dear God, they have not the +leisure to repent. Since the beginning of the war there are many, many +women twice widowed.... But that is by the way. Doggie was grateful to +an ungrateful military system. If he had attended--in the capacity of +best man, so please you--so violent and unreasoning had Oliver's +affection become, Durdlebury would have gaped and whispered behind its +hand and made things uncomfortable for everybody. Doggie from the +security of his regiment wished them joy by letter and telegram, and +sent them the wedding presents aforesaid. + +Then for a season there were three happy people, at least, in this +war-wilderness of suffering. The newly wedded pair went off for a +honeymoon, whose promise of indefinite length was eventually cut short +by an unromantic War Office. Oliver returned to his regiment in France +and Peggy to the Deanery, where she sat among her wedding presents and +her hopes for the future. + +"I never realized, my dear," said the Dean to his wife, "what a +remarkably pretty girl Peggy has grown into." + +"It's because she has got the man she loves," said Mrs. Conover. + +"Do you think that's the reason?" + +"I've known the plainest of women become quite good-looking. In the +early days of our married life"--she smiled--"even I was not quite +unattractive." + +The old Dean bent down--she was sitting and he standing--and lifted +her chin with his forefinger. + +"You, my dear, have always been by far the most beautiful woman of my +acquaintance." + +"We're talking of Peggy," smiled Mrs. Conover. + +"Ah!" said the Dean. "So we were. I was saying that the child's +happiness was reflected in her face----" + +"I rather thought I said it, dear," replied Mrs. Conover. + +"It doesn't matter," said her husband, who was first a man and then a +dean. He waved a hand in benign dismissal of the argument. "It's a +great mercy," said he, "that she has married the man she loves instead +of--well ... Marmaduke has turned out a capital fellow, and a credit +to the family--but I never was quite easy in my mind over the +engagement.... And yet," he continued, after a turn or two about the +room, "I'm rather conscience-stricken about Marmaduke, poor chap. He +has taken it like a brick. Yes, my dear, like a brick. Like a +gentleman. But all the same, no man likes to see another fellow walk +off with his sweetheart." + +"I don't think Marmaduke was ever so bucked in his life," said Mrs. +Conover placidly. + +"So----?" + +The Dean gasped. His wife's smile playing ironically among her +wrinkles was rather beautiful. + +"Peggy's word, Edward, not mine. The modern vocabulary. It means----" + +"Oh, I know what the hideous word means. It was your using it that +caused a shiver down my spine. But why bucked?" + +"It appears there's a girl in France." + +"Oho!" said the Dean. "Who is she?" + +"That's what Peggy, even now, would give a good deal to find out." + +For Doggie had told Peggy nothing more about the girl in France. +Jeanne was his own precious secret. That it was shared by Phineas and +Mo didn't matter. To discuss her with Peggy, besides being irrelevant, +in the circumstances, was quite another affair. Indeed, when he had +avowed the girl in France, it was not so much a confession as a +gallant desire to help Peggy out of her predicament. For, after all, +what was Jeanne but a beloved war-wraith that had passed through his +life and disappeared? + +"The development of Marmaduke," said the Dean, "is not the least +extraordinary phenomenon of the war." + + * * * * * + +Now that Doggie had gained his freedom, Jeanne ceased to be a wraith. +She became once again a wonderful thing of flesh and blood towards +whom all his young, fresh instinct yearned tremendously. One day it +struck his ingenuous mind that, if Jeanne were willing, there could be +no possible reason why he should not marry her. Who was to say him +nay? Convention? He had put all the conventions of his life under the +auctioneer's hammer. The family? He pictured a meeting between Jeanne +and the kind and courteous old Dean. It could not be other than an +episode of beauty. All he had to do was to seek out Jeanne and begin +his wooing in earnest. The simplest adventure in the world for a +well-to-do and unattached young man--if only that young man had not +been a private soldier on active service. + +That was the rub. Doggie passed his hand over his hair ruefully. How +on earth could he get to Frelus again? Not till the end of the war, +at any rate, which might be years hence. There was nothing for it but +a resumption of intimacy by letter. So he wrote to Jeanne the letter +which loyalty to Peggy had made him destroy weeks ago. But no answer +came. Then he wrote another, telling her of Peggy and his freedom, and +his love and his hopes, and to that there came no reply. + +A prepaid telegram produced no result. + +Doggie began to despair. What had happened to Jeanne? Why did she +persist in ruling him out of her existence? Was it because, in spite +of her gratitude, she wanted none of his love? He sat on the railing +on the sea front of the south coast town where he was quartered, and +looked across the Channel in dismayed apprehension. He was a fool. +What could there possibly be in little Doggie Trevor to inspire a +romantic passion in any woman's heart? Take Peggy's case. As soon as a +real, genuine fellow like Oliver came along, Peggy's heart flew out to +him like needle to magnet. Even had he been of Oliver's Paladin mould, +what right had he to expect Jeanne to give him all the wonder of +herself after a four days' acquaintance? Being what he was, just +little Doggie Trevor, the assumption was an impertinence. She had +sheltered herself from it behind a barrier of silence. + +A girl, a thing of low-cut blouse, truncated skirts and cheap silk +stockings, who had been leaning unnoticed for some time on the rails +by his side, spoke. + +"You seem to be pretty lonely." + +Doggie swerved round. "Yes, I am, darned lonely." + +"Come for a walk, or take me to the pictures." + +"And then?" asked Doggie, swinging to his feet. + +"If we get on all right, we can fix up something for to-morrow." + +She was pretty, with a fair, frizzy, insolent prettiness. She might +have been any age from fourteen to four-and-twenty. + +Doggie smiled, tempted to while away a dark hour. But he said, +honestly: + +"I'm afraid I should be a dull companion." + +"What's the matter?" she laughed. "Lost your best girl?" + +"Something like it." He waved a hand across the sea. "Over there." + +"French? Oh!" She drew herself up. "Aren't English girls good enough +for you?" + +"When they're sympathetic, they're delightful," said he. + +"Oh, you make me tired! Good-bye," she snapped, and stalked away. + +After a few yards she glanced over her shoulder to see whether he was +following. But Doggie remained by the railings. + +Presently he shrugged his shoulders and went off to a picture palace +by himself and thought wistfully of Jeanne. + + * * * * * + +And Jeanne? Well, Jeanne was no longer at Frelus; for there came a +morning when Aunt Morin was found dead in her bed. The old doctor came +and spread out his thin hands and said "_Eh bien_" and "_Que +voulez-vous?_" and "It was bound to happen sooner or later," and +murmured learned words. The old cure came and a neighbour or two, and +candles were put round the coffin and the _pompes funebres_ draped +the front steps and entrance and vestibule in heavy black. And as soon +as was possible Aunt Morin was laid to rest in the little cemetery +adjoining the church, and Jeanne went back to the house with Toinette, +alone in the wide world. And because there had been a death in the +place the billeted soldiers went about the courtyard very quietly. + +Since Phineas and Mo and Doggie's regiment had gone away, she had +devoted, with a new passionate zeal, all the time she could spare from +the sick woman to the comforts of the men. No longer restrained by the +tightly drawn purse-strings of Aunt Morin, but with money of her own +to spend--and money restored to her by these men's dear and heroic +comrade--she could give them unexpected treats of rich coffee and +milk, fresh eggs, fruit.... She mended and darned for them and +suborned old women to help her. She conspired with the Town Major to +render the granary more habitable; and the Town Major, who had not to +issue a return for a centime's expense, received all her suggestions +with courteous enthusiasm. Toinette taking good care to impress upon +every British soldier who could understand her, the fact that to +mademoiselle personally and individually he was indebted for all these +luxuries, the fame of Jeanne began to spread through that sector of +the front behind which lay Frelus. Concurrently spread the story of +Doggie Trevor's exploit. Jeanne became a legendary figure, save to +those thrice fortunate who were billeted on _Veuve Morin et Fils, +Marchands des Foins en Gros et Detail_, and these, according to their +several stolid British ways, bowed down and worshipped before the slim +French girl with the tragic eyes, and when they departed, confirmed +the legend and made things nasty for the sceptically superior private. + +So, on the day of the funeral of Aunt Morin, the whole of the billet +sent in a wreath to the house, and the whole of the billet attended +the service in the little church, and they marched back and drew up by +the front door--a guard of honour extending a little distance down the +road. The other men billeted in the village hung around, together with +the remnant of the inhabitants, old men, women and children, but kept +quite clear of the guarded path through which Jeanne was to pass. One +or two officers looked on curiously. But they stood in the background. +It was none of their business. If the men, in their free time, chose +to put themselves on parade, without arms, of course, so much the +better for the army. + +Then Jeanne and the old cure, in his time-scarred shovel-hat and his +rusty soutane, followed by Toinette, turned round the corner of the +lane and emerged into the main street. A sergeant gave a word of +command. The guard stood at attention. Jeanne and her companions +proceeded up the street, unaware of the unusual, until they entered +between the first two files. Then for the first time the tears welled +into Jeanne's eyes. She could only stretch out her hands and cry +somewhat wildly to the bronzed statues on each side of her, "_Merci, +mes amis, merci, merci_," and flee into the house. + +The next day Maitre Pepineau, the notary, summoned her to his +_cabinet_. Maitre Pepineau was very old. His partner had gone off to +the war. "One of the necessities of the present situation," he would +say, "is that I should go on living in spite of myself; for if I died, +the whole of the affairs of Frelus would be in the soup." Now, a +fortnight back, Maitre Pepineau and four neighbours--the four +witnesses required by French law when there is only one notary to draw +up the _instrument public_--had visited Aunt Morin; so Jeanne knew +that she had made a fresh will. + +"_Mon enfant_," said the old man, unfolding the document, "in a +previous will your aunt had left you a little heritage out of the half +of her fortune which she was free to dispose of by the code. You +having come into possession of your own money, she has revoked that +will and left everything to her only surviving son, Gaspard Morin, in +Madagascar." + +"It is only just and right," said Jeanne. + +"The unfortunate part of the matter," said Maitre Pepineau, "is that +Madame Morin has appointed official trustees to carry on the estate +until Monsieur Gaspard Morin can make his own arrangements. The result +is that you have no _locus standi_ as a resident in the house. I +pointed this out to her. But you know, in spite of her good qualities, +she was obstinate.... It pains me greatly, my dear child, to have to +state your position." + +"I am then," said Jeanne, "_sans-asile_--homeless?" + +"As far as the house of Monsieur Gaspard Morin is concerned--yes." + +"And my English soldiers?" asked Jeanne. + +"Alas, my child," replied the old man, "you will find them +everywhere." + +Which was cold consolation. For however much inspired by patriotic +gratitude a French girl may be, she cannot settle down in a strange +place where British troops are billeted and proceed straightway to +minister to their comfort. Misunderstandings are apt to arise even in +the best regulated British regiments. In the house of Aunt Morin, in +Frelus, her position was unassailable. Anywhere else ... + +"So, my good Toinette," said Jeanne, after having explained the +situation to the indignant old woman, "I can only go back to my friend +in Paris and reconstitute my life. If you will accompany me----?" + +But no. Toinette had the peasant's awful dread of Paris. She had heard +about Paris: there were thieves, ruffians that they called _apaches_, +who murdered you if you went outside your door. + +"The _apaches_," laughed Jeanne, "were swept away into the army on the +outbreak of war, and they've nearly all been killed, fighting like +heroes." + +"There are the old ones left, who are worse than the young," retorted +Toinette. + +No. Mademoiselle could teach her nothing about Paris. You could not +even cross a street without risk of life, so many were the omnibuses +and automobiles. In every shop you were a stranger to be robbed. There +was no air in Paris. You could not sleep for the noise. And then--to +live in a city of a hundred million people and not know a living soul! +It was a mad-house matter. Again no. It grieved her to part from +mademoiselle, but she had made her little economies--a difficult +achievement, considering how regardful of her pence Madame had +been--and she would return to her Breton town, which forty years ago +she had left to enter the service of Madame Morin. + +"But after forty years, Toinette, who in Paimpol will remember you?" + +"It is I who remember Paimpol," said Toinette. She remained for a few +moments in thought. Then she said: "_C'est drole, tout de meme._ I +haven't seen the sea for forty years, and now I can't sleep of nights +thinking of it. The first man I loved was a fisherman of Paimpol. We +were to be married after he returned from an Iceland voyage, with a +_gros benefice_. When the time came for his return, I would stand on +the shore and watch and watch the sea. But he never came. The sea +swallowed him up. And then--you can understand quite well--the child +was born dead. And I thought I would never want to look at the sea +again. So I came here to your Aunt Morin, the daughter of Doctor +Kersadec, your grandfather, and I married Jules Dagnant, the foreman +of the carters of the hay ... and he died a long time ago ... and now +I have forgotten him and I want to go and look at the sea where my man +was drowned." + +"But your grandson, who is fighting in the Argonne?" + +"What difference can it make to him whether I am in Frelus or +Paimpol?" + +"That's true," said Jeanne. + +Toinette bustled about the kitchen. Folks had to eat, whatever +happened. But she went on talking, Madame Morin. One must not speak +evil of the dead. They have their work cut out to extricate themselves +from Purgatory. But all the same--after forty years' faithful +service--and not to mention in the will--_meme pour une Bretonne, +c'etait raide_. Jeanne agreed. She had no reason to love her Aunt +Morin. Her father's people came from Agen on the confines of Gascony; +he had been a man of great gestures and vehement speech; her mother, +gentle, reserved, _un pen devote_. Jeanne drew her character from +both sources; but her sympathies were rather southern than northern. +For some reason or the other, perhaps for his expansive ways--who +knows?--Aunt Morin had held the late Monsieur Bossiere in +detestation. She had no love for Jeanne, and Jeanne, who before her +good fortune had expected nothing from Aunt Morin, regarded the will +with feelings of indifference. Except as far as it concerned Toinette. +Forty years' faithful service deserved recognition. But what was the +use of talking about it? + +"So we must separate, Toinette?" + +"Alas, yes, mademoiselle--unless mademoiselle would come with me to +Paimpol." + +Jeanne laughed. What should she do in Paimpol? There wasn't even a +fisherman left there to fall in love with. + +"Mademoiselle," said Toinette later, "do you think you will meet the +little English soldier, Monsieur Trevor, in Paris?" + +"_Dans la guerre on ne se revoit jamais_," said Jeanne. + +But there was more of personal decision than of fatalism in her tone. + +So Jeanne waited for a day or two until the regiment marched away, and +then, with heavy heart, set out for Paris. She wrote, indeed, to +Phineas, and weeks afterwards Phineas, who was in the thick of the +Somme fighting, wrote to Doggie telling him of her departure from +Frelus; but regretted that as he had lost her letter he could not +give him her Paris address. + +And in the meantime the house of Gaspard Morin was shuttered and +locked and sealed; and the bureaucratically minded old Postmaster of +Frelus, who had received no instructions from Jeanne to forward her +correspondence, handed Doggie's letters and telegrams to the aged +postman, a superannuated herdsman, who stuck them into the letter-box +of the deserted house and went away conscious of duty perfectly +accomplished. + +Then, at last, Doggie, fit again for active service, went out with a +draft to France, and joined Phineas and Mo, almost the only survivors +of the cheery, familiar crowd that he had loved, and the grimness of +battles such as he had never conceived possible took him in its +inexorable grip, and he lost sense of everything save that he was the +least important thing on God's earth struggling desperately for animal +existence. + +Yet there were rare times of relief from stress, when he could +gropingly string together the facts of a pre-Somme existence. And then +he would curse Phineas lustily for losing the precious letter. + +"Man," Phineas once replied, "don't you see that you're breaking a +heart which, in spite of its apparent rugosity and callosity, is as +tender as a new-made mother's? Tell me to do it, and I'll desert and +make my way to Paris and----" + +"And the military police will see that you make your way to hell via a +stone wall. And serve you right. Don't be a blithering fool," said +Doggie. + +"Then I don't know what I can do for you, laddie, except die of +remorse at your feet." + +"We're all going to die of rheumatic fever," said Doggie, shivering in +his sodden uniform. "Blast this rain!" + +Phineas thrust his hand beneath his clothing and produced a long, +amorphous and repulsive substance, like a painted tallow candle +overcome by intense heat, from which he gravely bit an inch or two. + +"What's that?" asked Doggie. + +"It's a stick of peppermint," said Phineas. "I've still an aunt in +Galashiels who remembers my existence." + +Doggie stuck out his hand like a monkey in the Zoo. + +"You selfish beast!" he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +The fighting went on and, to Doggie, the inhabitants of the outside +world became almost as phantasmagorical as Phineas's providential aunt +in Galashiels. Immediate existence held him. In an historic battle Mo +Shendish fell with a machine bullet through his heart. Doggie, +staggering with the rest of the company to the attack over the muddy, +shell-torn ground, saw him go down a few yards away. It was not till +later that he knew he had gone West with many other great souls. +Doggie and Phineas mourned for him as a brother. Without him France +was a muddier and a bloodier place and the outside world more unreal +than ever. + +Then to Doggie came a heart-broken letter from the Dean. Oliver had +gone the same road as Mo. Peggy was frantic with grief. Vividly Doggie +saw the peaceful deanery on which all the calamity of all the war had +crashed with sudden violence. + +"Why I should thank God we parted as friends, I don't quite know," +said Doggie, "but I do." + +"I suppose, laddie," said Phineas, "it's good to feel that smiling +eyes and hearty hands will greet us when we too pass over the Border. +My God, man," he added reflectively, after a pause, "have you ever +considered what a goodly company it will be? When you come to look at +it that way, it makes Death quite a trivial affair." + +"I suppose it does to us while we're here," said Doggie. "We've seen +such a lot of it. But to those who haven't--my poor Peggy--it's the +end of her universe." + +Yes, it was all very well to take death philosophically, or +fatalistically, or callously, or whatever you liked to call it, out +there, where such an attitude was the only stand against raving +madness; but at home, beneath the grey mass of the cathedral, folks +met Death as a strange and cruel horror. The new glory of life that +Peggy had found, he had blackened out in an instant. Doggie looked +again at the old man's letter--his handwriting was growing shaky--and +forgot for a while the familiar things around him, and lived with +Peggy in her sorrow. + + * * * * * + +Then, as far as Doggie's sorely tried division was affected, came the +end of the great autumn fighting. He found himself well behind the +lines in reserve, and so continued during the cold dreary winter months. +And the more the weeks that crept by and the more remote seemed +Jeanne, the more Doggie hungered for the sight of her. But all this +period of his life was but a dun-coloured monotony, with but few +happenings to distinguish week from week. Most of the company that had +marched with him into Frelus were dead or wounded. Nearly all the +officers had gone. Captain Willoughby, who had interrogated Jeanne with +regard to the restored packet, and, on Doggie's return, had informed +him with a friendly smile that they were a damned sight too busy then +to worry about defaulters of the likes of him, but that he was going +to be court-martialled and shot as soon as peace was declared, when +they would have time to think of serious matters--Captain Willoughby +had gone to Blighty with a leg so mauled that never would he command +again a company in the field. Sergeant Ballinghall, who had taught +Doggie to use his fists, had retired, minus a hand, into civil life. A +scientific and sporting helper at Roehampton, he informed Doggie by +letter, was busily engaged on the invention of a boxing-glove which +would enable him to carry on his pugilistic career. "So, in future +times," said he, "if any of your friends among the nobility and gentry +want lessons in the noble art, don't forget your old friend +Ballinghall." Whereat--incidentally--Doggie wondered. Never, for a +fraction of a second, during their common military association, had +Ballinghall given him to understand that he regarded him otherwise +than as a mere Tommy without any pretensions to gentility. There had +been times when Ballinghall had cursed him--perhaps justifiably and +perhaps lovingly--as though he had been the scum of the earth. Doggie +would no more have dared address him in terms of familiarity than he +would have dared slap the Brigadier-General on the back. And now the +honest warrior sought Doggie's patronage. Of the original crowd in +England who had transformed Doggie's military existence by making him +penny-whistler to the company, only Phineas and himself were left. +There were others, of course, good and gallant fellows, with whom he +became bound in the rough intimacy of the army; but the first friends, +those under whose protecting kindliness his manhood had developed, +were the dearest. And their ghosts remained dear. + +At last the division was moved up and there was more fighting. + +One day, after a successful raid, Doggie tumbled back with the rest of +the men into the trench and, looking about, missed Phineas. Presently +the word went round that "Mac" had been hit, and later the rumour was +confirmed by the passage down the trench of Phineas on a stretcher, +his weather-battered face a ghastly ivory. + +"I'm alive all right, laddie," he gasped, contorting his lips into a +smile. "I've got it clean through the chest like a gentleman. But it +gars me greet I canna look after you any longer." + +He made an attempt at waving a hand, and the stretcher-bearers carried +him away out of the army for ever. + +Thereafter Doggie felt the loneliest thing on earth, like Wordsworth's +cloud, or the Last Man in Tom Hood's grim poem. For was he not the +last man of the original company, as he had joined it, hundreds of +years ago, in England? It was only then that he realized fully the +merits of the wastrel Phineas McPhail. Not once or twice, but a +thousand times had the man's vigilant affection, veiled under cynical +humour, saved him from despair. Not once but a thousand times had the +gaunt, tireless Scotchman saved him from physical exhaustion. At every +turn of his career, since his enlistment, Phineas had been there, +watchful, helpful, devoted. There he had been, always ready and +willing to be cursed. To curse him had been the great comfort of +Doggie's life. Whom could he curse now? Not a soul--no one, at any +rate, against whom he could launch an anathema with any real heart in +it. Than curse vainly and superficially, far better not to curse at +all. He missed Phineas beyond all his conception of the blankness of +bereavement. Like himself, Phineas had found salvation in the army. +Doggie realized how he had striven in his own queer way to redeem the +villainy of his tutorship. No woman could have been more gentle, more +unselfish. + +"What the devil am I going to do?" said Doggie. + +Meanwhile Phineas, lying in a London hospital with a bullet through +his body, thought much and earnestly of his friend, and one morning +Peggy got a letter. + + "DEAR MADAM,-- + + "Time was when I could not have addressed you without incurring + your not unjustifiable disapproval. But I take the liberty of + doing so now, trusting to your generous acquiescence in the + proposition that the war has purged many offences. If this has + not happened, to some extent, in my case, I do not see how it + has been possible for me to have regained and retained the trust + and friendship of so sensitive and honourable a gentleman as Mr. + Marmaduke Trevor. + + "If I ask you to come and see me here, where I am lying severely + wounded, it is not with an intention to solicit a favour for + myself personally--although I'll not deny that the sight of a + kind and familiar face would be a boon to a lonely and + friendless man--but with a deep desire to advance Mr. Trevor's + happiness. Lest you may imagine I am committing an unpardonable + impertinence and thereby totally misunderstand me, I may say + that this happiness can only be achieved by the aid of powerful + friends both in London and Paris. + + "It is only because the lad is the one thing dear to me left in + the world, that I venture to intrude on your privacy at such a + time. + + "I am, dear Madam, + "Yours very faithfully, + "PHINEAS MCPHAIL." + +Peggy came down to breakfast, and having dutifully kissed her parents, +announced her intention of going to London by the eleven o'clock +train. + +"Why, how can you, my dear?" asked Mrs. Conover. + +"I've nothing particular to do here for the next few days." + +"But your father and I have. Neither of us can start off to London at +a moment's notice." + +Peggy replied with a wan smile: "But, dearest mother, you forget. I'm +an old, old married woman." + +"Besides, my dear," said the Dean, "Peggy has often gone away by +herself." + +"But never to London," said Mrs. Conover. + +"Anyhow, I've got to go." Peggy turned to the old butler. "Ring up +Sturrocks's and tell them I'm coming." + +"Yes, miss," said Burford. + +"He's as bad as you are, mother," said Peggy. + +So she went up to London and stayed the night at Sturrocks's alone, +for the first time in her life. She half ate a lonely, execrable war +dinner in the stuffy, old-fashioned dining-room, served ceremoniously +by the ancient head waiter, the friend of her childhood, who, in view +of her recent widowhood, addressed her in the muffled tones of the +sympathetic undertaker. Peggy nearly cried. She wished she had chosen +another hotel. But where else could she have gone? She had stayed at +few hotels in London: once at the Savoy; once at Claridge's; every +other time at Sturrocks's. The Savoy? Its vastness had frightened her. +And Claridge's? No; that was sanctified for ever. Oliver in his lordly +way had snapped his fingers at Sturrocks's. Only the best was good +enough for Peggy. Now only Sturrocks's remained. + +She sought her room immediately after the dreary meal and sat before +the fire--it was a damp, chill February night--and thought miserable +and aching thoughts. It happened to be the same room which she had +occupied, oh--thousands of years ago--on the night when Doggie, +point-device in new Savile Row uniform, had taken her to dinner at the +Carlton. And she had sat, in the same imitation Charles the Second +brocaded chair, looking into the same generous, old-fashioned fire, +thinking--thinking. And she remembered clenching her fist and +apostrophizing the fire and crying out aloud: "Oh, my God! if only he +makes good!" + +Oceans of years lay between then and now. Doggie had made good; every +man who came home wounded must have made good. Poor old Doggie. But +how in the name of all that was meant by the word Love she could ever +have contemplated--as she had contemplated, with an obstinate, +virginal loyalty--marriage with Doggie, she could not understand. + +She undressed, brought the straight-backed chair close to the fire, +and, in her dainty nightgown, part of her trousseau, sat elbow on +knee, face in thin, clutching hands, slippered feet on fender, +thinking, thinking once again. Thinking now of the gates of Paradise +that had opened to her for a few brief weeks. Of the man who never had +to make good, being the wonder of wonders of men, the delicious +companion, the incomparable lover, the all-compelling revealer, the +great, gay, scarcely, to her woman's limited power of vision, +comprehended heroic soldier. Of the terrifying meaninglessness of +life, now that her God of Very God, in human form, had been swept, in +an instant, off the earth into the Unknown. + +Yet was life meaningless after all? There must be some significance, +some inner truth veiled in mystery, behind even the casually accepted +and never probed religion to which she had been born and in which she +had found poor refuge. For, like many of her thoughtless, +unquestioning class, she had looked at Christ through stained-glass +windows, and now the windows were darkened.... For the first time in +her life, her soul groped intensely towards eternal verities. The fire +burned low and she shivered. She became again the bit of human flotsam +cruelly buffeted by the waves, forgotten of God. Yet, after she had +risen and crept into bed and while she was staring into the darkness, +her heart became filled with a vast pity for the thousands and +thousands of women, her sisters, who at that moment were staring, +hopeless, like her, into the unrelenting night. + +She did not fall asleep till early morning. She rose late. About +half-past eleven as she was preparing to walk abroad on a dreary +shopping excursion--the hospital visiting hour was in the afternoon--a +telegram arrived from the Dean. + + "Just heard that Marmaduke is severely wounded." + + * * * * * + +She scarcely recognized the young private tutor of Denby Hall in the +elderly man with the deeply furrowed face, who smiled as she +approached his bed. She had brought him flowers, cigarettes of the +exquisite kind that Doggie used to smoke, chocolates.... + +She sat down by his bedside. + +"All this is more than gracious, Mrs. Manningtree," said Phineas. "To +a _vieux routier_ like me, it is a wee bit overwhelming." + +"It's very little to do for Doggie's best friend." + +Phineas's eyes twinkled. "If you call him Doggie, like that, maybe it +won't be so difficult for me to talk to you." + +"Why should it be difficult at all?" she asked. "We both love him." + +"Ay," said Phineas. "He's a lovable lad, and it is because others +besides you and me find him lovable, that I took the liberty of +writing to you." + +"The girl in France?" + +"Eh?" He put out a bony hand, and regarded her in some disappointment. +"Has he told you? Perhaps you know all about it." + +"I know nothing except that--'a girl in France,' was all he told me. +But--first about yourself. How badly are you wounded--and what can we +do for you?" + +She dragged from a reluctant Phineas the history of his wound and +obtained confirmation of his statement from a nurse who happened to +pass up the gangway of the pleasant ward and lingered by the bedside. +McPhail was doing splendidly. Of course, a man with a hole through his +body must be expected to go back to the regime of babyhood. So long as +he behaved himself like a well-conducted baby all would be well. Peggy +drew the nurse a few yards away. + +"I've just heard that his dearest friend out there, a boy whom he +loves dearly and has been through the whole thing with him in the same +company--it's odd, but he was his private tutor years ago--both +gentlemen, you know--in fact, I'm here just to talk about the boy----" +Peggy grew somewhat incoherent. "Well--I've just heard that the boy +has been seriously wounded. Shall I tell him?" + +"I think it would be better to wait for a few days. Any shock like +that sends up their temperatures. We hate temperatures, and we're +getting his down so nicely." + +"All right," said Peggy, and she went back smiling to Phineas. "She +says you're getting on amazingly, Mr. McPhail." + +Said Phineas: "I'm grateful to you, Mrs. Manningtree, for concerning +yourself about my entirely unimportant carcass. Now, as Virgil says, +'_paullo majora canemus_.'" + +"You have me there, Mr. McPhail," said Peggy. + +"Let us sing of somewhat greater things. That is the bald translation. +Let us talk of Doggie--if so be it is agreeable to you." + +"Carry on," said Peggy. + +"Well," said Phineas, "to begin at the beginning, we marched into a +place called Frelus----" + +In his pedantic way he began to tell her the story of Jeanne, so far +as he knew it. He told her of the girl standing in the night wind and +rain on the bluff by the turning of the road. He told her of Doggie's +insane adventure across No Man's Land to the farm of La Folette. Tears +rolled down Peggy's cheeks. She cried, incredulous: + +"Doggie did that? Doggie?" + +"It was child's play to what he had to do at Guedecourt." + +But Peggy waved away the vague heroism of Guedecourt. + +"Doggie did that? For a woman?" + +The whole elaborate structure of her conception of Doggie tumbled down +like a house of cards. + +"Ay," said Phineas. + +"He did that"--Phineas had given an imaginative and picturesque +account of the episode--"for this girl Jeanne?" + +"It is a strange coincidence, Mrs. Manningtree," replied Phineas, with +a flicker of his lips elusively suggestive of unctuousness, "that +almost those identical words were used by Mademoiselle Bossiere in my +presence. '_Il a fait cela pour moi!_' But--you will pardon me for +saying it--with a difference of intonation, which, as a woman, no +doubt you will be able to divine and appreciate." + +"I know," said Peggy. She bent forward and picked with finger and +thumb at the fluff of the blanket. Then she said, intent on the fluff: +"If a man had done a thing like that for me, I should have crawled +after him to the ends of the earth." Presently she looked up with a +flash of the eyes. "Why isn't this girl doing it?" + +"You must listen to the end of the story," said Phineas. "I may tell +you that I always regarded myself, with my Scots caution, as a model +of tact and discretion; but after many conversations with Doggie, I'm +beginning to have my doubts. I also imagined that I was very careful +of my personal belongings; but facts have convicted me of criminal +laxity." + +Peggy smiled. "That sounds like a confession, Mr. McPhail." + +"Maybe it's in the nature of one," he assented. "But by your leave, +Mrs. Manningtree, I'll resume my narrative." + +He continued the story of Jeanne: how she had learned through him of +Doggie's wealth and position and early upbringing; of the memorable +dinner-party with poor Mo; of Doggie's sensitive interpretation of her +French _bourgeoise_ attitude; and finally the loss of the letter +containing her address in Paris. + +After he had finished, Peggy sat for a long while thinking. This +romance in Doggie's life had moved her as she thought she could never +be moved since the death of Oliver. Her thoughts winged themselves +back to an afternoon, remote almost as her socked and sashed +childhood, when Doggie, immaculately attired in grey and pearl +harmonies, had declared, with his little effeminate drawl, that tennis +made one so terribly hot. The scene in the Deanery garden flashed +before her. It was succeeded by a scene in the Deanery drawing-room +when, to herself indignant, he had pleaded his delicacy of +constitution. And the same Doggie, besides braving death a thousand +times in the ordinary execution of his soldier's duties, had performed +this queer deed of heroism for a girl. Then his return to +Durdlebury---- + +"I'm afraid," she said suddenly, "I was dreadfully unkind to him when +he came home the last time. I didn't understand. Did he tell you?" + +Phineas stretched out a hand and with the tips of his fingers touched +her sleeve. + +"Mrs. Manningtree," he said softly, "don't you know that Doggie's a +very wonderful gentleman?" + +Again her eyes grew moist. "Yes. I know. Of course he never would have +mentioned it.... I thought, Mr. McPhail, he had deteriorated--God +forgive me! I thought he had coarsened and got into the ways of an +ordinary Tommy--and I was snobbish and uncomprehending and horrible. +It seems as if I am making a confession now." + +"Ay. Why not? If it were not for the soul's health, the ancient Church +wouldn't have instituted the practice." + +She regarded him shrewdly for a second. "You've changed too." + +"Maybe," said Phineas. "It's an ill war that blows nobody good. And +I'm not complaining of this one. But you were talking of your +miscomprehension of Doggie." + +"I behaved very badly to him," she said, picking again at the +blanket. "I misjudged him altogether--because I was ignorant of +everything--everything that matters in life. But I've learned better +since then." + +"Ay," remarked Phineas gravely. + +"Mr. McPhail," she said, after a pause, "it wasn't those rotten ideas +that prevented me from marrying him----" + +"I know, my dear little lady," said Phineas, grasping the plucking +hand. "You just loved the other man as you never could have loved +Doggie, and there's an end to't. Love just happens. It's the holiest +thing in the world." + +She turned her hand, so as to meet his in a mutual clasp, and withdrew +it. + +"You're very kind--and sympathetic--and understanding----" Her voice +broke. "I seem to have been going about misjudging everybody and +everything. I'm beginning to see a little bit--a little bit farther--I +can't express myself----" + +"Never mind, Mrs. Manningtree," said Phineas soothingly, "if you +cannot express yourself in words. Leave that to the politicians and +the philosophers and the theologians, and other such windy expositors +of the useless. But you can express yourself in deeds." + +"How?" + +"Find Jeanne for Doggie." + +Peggy bent forward with a queer light in her eyes. + +"Does she love him--really love him as he deserves to be loved?" + +"It is not often, Mrs. Manningtree, that I commit myself to a definite +statement. But, to my certain knowledge, these two are breaking their +hearts for each other. Couldn't you find her, before the poor laddie +is killed?" + +"He's not killed yet, thank God!" said Peggy, with an odd thrill in +her voice. + +He was alive. Only severely wounded. He would be coming home soon, +carried, according to convoy, to any unfriendly hospital +dumping-ground in the United Kingdom. If only she could bring this +French girl to him! She yearned to make reparation for the past, to +act according to the new knowledge that love and sorrow had brought +her. + +"But how can I find her--just a girl--an unknown Mademoiselle +Bossiere--among the millions of Paris?" + +"I've been racking my brains all the morning," replied Phineas, "to +recall the address, and out of the darkness there emerges just two +words, _Port Royal_. If you know Paris, does that help you at all?" + +"I don't know Paris," replied Peggy humbly. "I don't know anything. +I'm utterly ignorant." + +"I beg entirely to differ from you, Mrs. Manningtree," said Phineas. +"You have come through much heavy travail to a correct appreciation of +the meaning of human love between man and woman, and so you have in +you the wisdom of all the ages." + +"Yes, yes," said Peggy, becoming practical. "But _Port Royal_?" + +"The clue to the labyrinth," replied Phineas. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +The Dean of an English cathedral is a personage. + +He has power. He can stand with folded arms at its door and forbid +entrance to anyone, save, perhaps, the King in person. He can tell not +only the Bishop of the Diocese, but the very Archbishop of the +Province, to run away and play. Having power and using it benignly and +graciously, he can exert its subtler form known as influence. In the +course of his distinguished career he is bound to make many queer +friends in high places. + +"My dear Field-Marshal, could you do me a little favour...?" + +"My dear Ambassador, my daughter, etc., etc...." + +Deans, discreet, dignified gentlemen, who would not demand the +impossible, can generally get what they ask for. + +When Peggy returned to Durdlebury and put Doggie's case before her +father, and with unusual fervour roused him from his first +stupefaction at the idea of her mad project, he said mildly: + +"Let me understand clearly what you want to do. You want to go to +Paris by yourself, discover a girl called Jeanne Bossiere, concerning +whose address you know nothing but two words--Port Royal--of course +there is a Boulevard Port Royal somewhere south of the Luxembourg +Gardens----" + +"Then we've found her," cried Peggy. "We only want the number." + +"Please don't interrupt," said the Dean. "You confuse me, my dear. You +want to find this girl and re-establish communication between her and +Marmaduke, and--er--generally play Fairy Godmother." + +"If you like to put it that way," said Peggy. + +"Are you quite certain you would be acting wisely? From Marmaduke's +point of view----" + +"Don't call him Marmaduke"--she bent forward and touched his knee +caressingly--"Marmaduke could never have risked his life for a woman. +It was Doggie who did it. She thinks of him as Doggie. Every one +thinks of him now and loves him as Doggie. It was Oliver's name for +him, don't you see? And he has stuck it out and made it a sort of +title of honour and affection--and it was as Doggie that Oliver +learned to love him, and in his last letter to Oliver he signed +himself 'Your devoted Doggie.'" + +"My dear," smiled the Dean, and quoted: "'What's in a name? A +rose----'" + +"Would be unendurable if it were called a bug-squash. The poetry would +be knocked out of it." + +The Dean said indulgently: "So the name Doggie connotes something +poetic and romantic?" + +"You ask the girl Jeanne." + +The Dean tapped the back of his daughter's hand that rested on his +knee. + +"There's no fool like an old fool, my dear. Do you know why?" + +She shook her head. + +"Because the old fool has learned to understand the young fool, +whereas the young fool doesn't understand anybody." + +She laughed and threw herself on her knees by his side. + +"Daddy, you're immense!" + +He took the tribute complacently. "What was I saying before you +interrupted me? Oh yes. About the wisdom of your proposed action. Are +you sure they want each other?" + +"As sure as I'm sitting here," said Peggy. + +"Then, my dear," said he, "I'll do what I can." + +Whether he wrote to Field-Marshals and Ambassadors or to lesser +luminaries, Peggy did not know. The Dean observed an old-world +punctilio about such matters. At the first reply or two to his letters +he frowned; at the second or two he smiled in the way any elderly +gentleman may smile when he finds himself recognized by +high-and-mightiness as a person of importance. + +"I think, my dear," said he at last, "I've arranged everything for +you." + + * * * * * + +So it came to pass that while Doggie, with a shattered shoulder and a +touched left lung, was being transported from a base hospital in +France to a hospital in England, Peggy, armed with all kinds of +passports and recommendations, and a very fixed, personal sanctified +idea, was crossing the Channel on her way to Paris and Jeanne. + + * * * * * + +And, after all, it was no wild-goose chase, but a very simple matter. +An urbane, elderly person at the British Embassy performed certain +telephonic gymnastics. At the end: + +"_Merci, merci. Adieu!_" + +He turned to her. + +"A representative from the Prefecture of Police will wait on you at +your hotel at ten o'clock to-morrow morning." + +The official called, took notes, and confidently assured her that he +would obtain the address of Mademoiselle Jeanne Bossiere within +twelve hours. + +"But how, monsieur, are you going to do it?" asked Peggy. + +"Madame," said he, "in spite of the war, the telegraphic, telephonic, +and municipal systems of France work in perfect order--to say nothing +of that of the police. Frelus, I think, is the name of the place she +started from?" + +At eight o'clock in the evening, after her lonely dinner in the great +hotel, the polite official called again. She met him in the lounge. + +"Madame," said he, "I have the pleasure to inform you that +Mademoiselle Jeanne Bossiere, late of Frelus, is living in Paris at +743^bis Boulevard Port Royal, and spends all her days at the +succursale of the French Red Cross in the Rue Vaugirard." + +"Have you seen her and told her?" + +"No, madame, that did not come within my instructions." + +"I am infinitely grateful to you," said Peggy. + +"_Il n'y a pas de quoi_, madame. I perform the tasks assigned to me +and am only too happy, in this case, to have been successful." + +"But, monsieur," said Peggy, feeling desperately lonely in Paris, and +pathetically eager to talk to a human being, even in her rusty Vevey +school French, "haven't you wondered why I've been so anxious to find +this young lady?" + +"If we began to wonder," he replied with a laugh, "at the things which +happen during the war, we should be so bewildered that we shouldn't be +able to carry on our work. Madame," said he, handing her his card, "if +you should have further need of me in the matter, I am always at your +service." + +He bowed profoundly and left her. + +Peggy stayed at the Ritz because, long ago, when her parents had +fetched her from Vevey and had given her the one wonderful fortnight +in Paris she had ever known, they had chosen this dignified and not +inexpensive hostelry. To her girlish mind it had breathed the last +word of splendour, movement, gaiety--all that was connoted by the +magical name of the City of Light. But now the glamour had departed. +She wondered whether it had ever been. Oliver had laughed at her +experiences. Sandwiched between dear old Uncle Edward and Aunt Sophia, +what in the sacred name of France could she have seen of Paris? Wait +till they could turn round. He would take her to Paris. She would have +the unimagined time of her life. They dreamed dreams of the Rue de la +Paix--he had five hundred pounds laid by, which he had ear-marked for +an orgy of shopping in that Temptation Avenue of a thoroughfare; of +Montmartre, the citadel of delectable wickedness and laughter; of +funny little restaurants in dark streets where you are delighted to +pay twenty francs for a mussel, so exquisitely is it cooked; of dainty +and crazy theatres; of long drives, folded in each other's arms, when +moonlight touches dawn, through the wonders of the enchanted city. + +Her brief dreams had eclipsed her girlish memories. Now the dreams had +become blurred. She strove to bring them back till her soul ached, +till she broke down into miserable weeping. She was alone in a +strange, unedifying town; in a strange, vast, commonplace hotel. The +cold, moonlit Place de la Vendome, with its memorable column, just +opposite her bedroom window, meant nothing to her. She had the +desolating sense that nothing in the world would ever matter to her +again--nothing as far as she, Peggy Manningtree, was concerned. Her +life was over. Altruism alone gave sanction to continued existence. +Hence her present adventure. Paris might have been Burslem for all the +interest it afforded. + + * * * * * + +Jeanne worked from morning to night in the succursale of the Croix +Rouge in the Rue Vaugirard. She had tried, after the establishment of +her affairs, to enter, in no matter what capacity, a British base +hospital. It would be a consolation for her surrender of Doggie to +work for his wounded comrades. Besides, twice in her life she owed +everything to the English, and the repayment of the debt was a matter +of conscience. But she found that the gates of English hospitals were +thronged with English girls; and she could not even speak the +language. So, guided by the Paris friend with whom she lodged, she +made her way to the Rue Vaugirard, where, in the packing-room, she had +found hard unemotional employment. Yet the work had to be done: and it +was done for France, which, after all, was dearer to her than England; +and among her fellow-workers, women of all classes, she had pleasant +companionship. + +When, one day, the old concierge, bemedalled from the war of 1870, +appeared to her in the packing-room, with the announcement that a +_dame anglaise_ desired to speak to her, she was at first bewildered. +She knew no English ladies--had never met one in her life. It took a +second or two for the thought to flash that the visit might concern +Doggie. Then came conviction. In blue overall and cap, she followed +the concierge to the ante-room, her heart beating. At the sight of the +young Englishwoman in black, with a crape hat and little white band +beneath the veil, it nearly stopped altogether. + +Peggy advanced with outstretched hand. + +"You are Mademoiselle Jeanne Bossiere?" + +"Yes, madame." + +"I am a cousin of Monsieur Trevor----" + +"Ah, madame"--Jeanne pointed to the mourning--"you do not come to tell +me he is dead?" + +Peggy smiled. "No. I hope not." + +"Ah!" Jeanne sighed in relief, "I thought----" + +"This is for my husband," said Peggy quietly. + +"_Ah, madame! je demande bien pardon. J'ai du vous faire de la peine. +Je n'y pensais pas_----" + +Jeanne was in great distress. Peggy smiled again. "Widows dress +differently in England and France." She looked around and her eyes +fell upon a bench by the wall. "Could we sit down and have a little +talk?" + +"_Pardon, madame, c'est que je suis un peu emue_ ..." said Jeanne. + +She led the way to the bench. They sat down together, and for a +feminine second or two took stock of each other. Jeanne's first +rebellious instinct said: "I was right." In her furs and her perfect +millinery and perfect shoes and perfect black silk stockings that +appeared below the short skirt, Peggy, blue-eyed, fine-featured, the +fine product of many generations of scholarly English gentlefolk, +seemed to incarnate her vague conjectures of the social atmosphere in +which Doggie had his being. Her peasant blood impelled her to +suspicion, to a half-grudging admiration, to self-protective jealousy. +The Englishwoman's ease of manner, in spite of her helter-skelter +French, oppressed her with an angry sense of inferiority. She was also +conscious of the blue overall and close-fitting cap. Yet the +Englishwoman's smile was kind and she had lost her husband.... And +Peggy, looking at this girl with the dark, tragic eyes and refined, +pale face and graceful gestures, in the funny instinctive British way +tried to place her socially. Was she a lady? It made such a +difference. This was the girl for whom Doggie had performed his deed +of knight-errantry; the girl whom she proposed to take back to Doggie. +For the moment, discounting the uniform which might have hidden a +midinette or a duchess, she had nothing but the face and the gestures +and the beautifully modulated voice to go upon, and between the accent +of the midinette and the duchess--both being equally charming to her +English ear--Peggy could not discriminate. She had, however, +beautiful, capable hands, and took care of her finger-nails. + +Jeanne broke the tiny spell of embarrassed silence. + +"I am at your disposal, madame." + +Peggy plunged at once into facts. + +"It may seem strange, my coming to you; but the fact is that my +cousin, Monsieur Trevor, is severely wounded...." + +"_Mon Dieu!_" said Jeanne. + +"And his friend, Mr. McPhail, who is also wounded, thinks that if +you--well----" + +Her French failed her--to carry off a very delicate situation one must +have command of language--she could only blurt out--"_Il faut +comprendre, mademoiselle. Il a fait beaucoup pour vous._" + +She met Jeanne's dark eyes. Jeanne said: + +"_Oui, madame, vous avez raison. Il a beaucoup fait pour moi._" + +Peggy flushed at the unconscious correction--"_beaucoup fait_" for +"_fait beaucoup_." + +"He has done not only much, but everything for me, madame," Jeanne +continued. "And you who have come from England expressly to tell me +that he is wounded, what do you wish me to do?" + +"Accompany me back to London. I had a telegram this morning to say +that he had arrived at a hospital there." + +"Then you have not seen him?" + +"Not yet." + +"Then how, madame, do you know that he desires my presence?" + +Peggy glanced at the girl's hands clasped on her lap, and saw that the +knuckles were white. + +"I am sure of it." + +"He would have written, madame. I only received one letter from him, +and that was while I still lived at Frelus." + +"He wrote many letters and telegraphed to Frelus, and received no +answers." + +"Madame," cried Jeanne, "I implore you to believe what I say: but not +one of those letters have ever reached me." + +"Not one?" + +At first Peggy was incredulous. Phineas McPhail had told her of +Doggie's despair at the lack of response from Frelus; and, after all, +Frelus had a properly constituted post office in working order, which +might be expected to forward letters. She had therefore come prepared +to reproach the girl. But ... + +"_Je le jure_, madame," said Jeanne. + +And Peggy believed her. + +"But I wrote to Monsieur McPhail, giving him my address in Paris." + +"He lost the letter before he saw Doggie again"--the name slipped +out--"and forgot the address." + +"But how did you find me?" + +"I had a lot of difficulty. The British Embassy--the Prefecture of +Police----" + +"_Mon Dieu!_" cried Jeanne again. "Did you do all that for me?" + +"For my cousin." + +"You called him Doggie. That is how I know him and think of him." + +"All right," smiled Peggy. "For Doggie then." + +Jeanne's brain for a moment or two was in a whirl--Embassies and +Prefectures of Police! + +"Madame, to do this, you must love him very much." + +"I loved him so much--I hope you will understand me--my French I know +is terrible--but I loved him so much that until he came home wounded +we were _fiances_." + +Jeanne drew a short breath. "I felt it, madame. An English gentleman +of great estate would naturally marry an English lady of his own +social class. That is why, madame, I acted as I have done." + +Then something of what Jeanne really was became obvious to Peggy. Lady +or no lady, in the conventional British sense, Jeanne appealed to her, +in her quiet dignity and restraint, as a type of Frenchwoman whom she +had never met before. She suddenly conceived an enormous respect for +Jeanne. Also for Phineas McPhail, whose eulogistic character sketch +she had accepted with feminine reservations subconsciously derisive. + +"My dear," she said. "_Vous etes digne de toute dame +anglaise!_"--which wasn't an elegant way of putting it in the French +tongue---but Jeanne, with her odd smile of the lips, showed that she +understood her meaning; she had served her apprenticeship in the +interpretation of Anglo-Gallic. "But I want to tell you. Doggie and I +were engaged. A family matter. Then, when he came home wounded--you +know how--I found that I loved some one--_aimais d'amour_, as you +say--and he found the same. I loved the man whom I married. He loved +you. He confessed it. We parted more affectionate friends than we had +ever been. I married. He searched for you. My husband has been killed. +Doggie, although wounded, is alive. That is why I am here." + +They were sitting in a corner of the ante-room, and before them passed +a continuous stream of the busy life of the war, civilians, officers, +badged workers, elderly orderlies in pathetic bits of uniform that +might have dated from 1870, wheeling packages in and out, groups +talking of the business of the organization, here and there a +blue-vested young lieutenant and a blue-overalled packer, talking--it +did not need God to know of what. But neither of the two women heeded +this multitude. + +Jeanne said: "Madame, I am profoundly moved by what you have told me. +If I show little emotion, it is because I have suffered greatly from +the war. One learns self-restraint, madame, or one goes mad. But as +you have spoken to me in your noble English frankness--I have only to +confess that I love Doggie with all my heart, with all my soul----" +With her two clenched hands she smote her breast--and Peggy noted it +was the first gesture that she had made. "I feel the infinite need, +madame--you will understand me--to care for him, to protect him----" + +Peggy raised a beautifully gloved hand. + +"Protect him?" she interrupted. "Why, hasn't he shown himself to be a +hero?" + +Jeanne leant forward and grasped the protesting hand by the wrist; and +there was a wonderful light behind her eyes and a curious vibration in +her voice. + +"It is only _les petits heros tout faits_--the little ready-made +heroes--ready made by the _bon Dieu_--who have no need of a woman's +protection. But it is a different thing with the great heroes who have +made themselves without the aid of a _bon Dieu_, from little dogs of +no account (_des petits chiens de rien du tout_) to what Doggie is at +the moment. The woman then takes her place. She fixes things for ever. +She alone can understand." + +Peggy gasped as at a new Revelation. The terms in which this French +girl expressed herself were far beyond the bounds of her philosophy. +The varying aspects in which Doggie had presented himself to her, in +the past few months, had been bewildering. Now she saw him, in a fresh +light, though as in a glass darkly, as reflected by Jeanne. Still, she +protested again, in order to see more clearly. + +"But what would you protect him from?" + +"From want of faith in himself; from want of faith in his destiny, +madame. Once he told me he had come to France to fight for his soul. +It is necessary that he should be victorious. It is necessary that the +woman who loves him should make him victorious." + +Peggy put out her hand and touched Jeanne's wrist. + +"I'm glad I didn't marry Doggie, mademoiselle," she said simply. "I +couldn't have done that." She paused. "Well?" she resumed. "Will you +now come with me to London?" + +A faint smile crept into Jeanne's eyes. + +"_Mais oui, madame._" + + * * * * * + +Doggie lay in the long, pleasant ward of the great London hospital, +the upper left side of his body a mass of bandaged pain. Neck and +shoulder, front and back and arm, had been shattered and torn by high +explosive shell. The top of his lung had been grazed. Only the +remorseless pressure at the base hospital had justified the sending of +him, after a week, to England. Youth and the splendid constitution +which Dr. Murdoch had proclaimed in the far-off days of the war's +beginning, and the toughening training of the war itself, carried him +through. No more fighting for Doggie this side of the grave. But the +grave was as far distant as it is from any young man in his twenties +who avoids abnormal peril. + +Till to-day he had not been allowed to see visitors, or to receive +letters. They told him that the Dean of Durdlebury had called; had +brought flowers and fruit and had left a card "From your Aunt, Peggy +and myself." But to-day he felt wonderfully strong, in spite of the +unrelenting pain, and the nurse had said: "I shouldn't wonder if you +had some visitors this afternoon." Peggy, of course. He followed the +hands of his wrist-watch until they marked the visiting hour. And sure +enough, a minute afterwards, amid the stream of men and women--chiefly +women--of all grades and kinds, he caught sight of Peggy's face +smiling beneath her widow's hat. She had a great bunch of violets in +her bodice. + +"My dear old Doggie!" She bent down and kissed him. "Those rotten +people wouldn't let me come before." + +"I know," said Doggie. He pointed to his shoulder. "I'm afraid I'm in +a hell of a mess. It's lovely to see you." + +She unpinned the violets and thrust them towards his face. + +"From home. I've brought 'em for you." + +"My God!" said Doggie, burying his nose in the huge bunch. "I never +knew violets could smell like this." He laid them down with a sigh. +"How's everybody?" + +"Quite fit." + +There was a span of silence. Then he stretched out his hand and she +gave him hers and he gripped it tight. + +"Poor old Peggy dear!" + +"Oh, that's all right," she said bravely. "I know you care, dear +Doggie. That's enough. I've just got to stick it like the rest." She +withdrew her hand after a little squeeze. "Bless you. Don't worry +about me. I'm contemptibly healthy. But you----?" + +"Getting on splendidly. I say, Peggy, what kind of people are the +Pullingers who have taken Denby Hall?" + +"They're all right, I believe. He's something in the +Government--Controller of Feeding-bottles--I don't know. But, oh, +Doggie, what an ass you were to sell the place up!" + +"I wasn't." + +"You were." + +Doggie laughed. "If you've come here to argue with me, I shall cry, +and then you'll be turned out neck and crop." + +Peggy looked at him shrewdly. "You seem to be going pretty strong." + +"Never stronger in my life," lied Doggie. + +"Would you like to see somebody you are very fond of?" + +"Somebody I'm fond of? Uncle Edward?" + +"No, no." She waved the Very Reverend the Dean to the empyrean. + +"Dear old Phineas? Has he come through? I've not had time to ask +whether you've heard anything about him." + +"Yes, he's flourishing. He wrote to me. I've seen him." + +"Praise the Lord!" cried Doggie. "My dear, there's no one on earth, +save you, whom I should so much love to see as Phineas. If he's there, +fetch him along." + +Peggy nodded and smiled mysteriously and went away down the ward. And +Doggie thought: "Thank God, Peggy has the strength to face the +world--and thank God Phineas has come through." He closed his eyes, +feeling rather tired, thinking of Phineas. Of his last words as he +passed him stretcher-borne in the trench. Of the devotion of the man. +Of his future. Well, never mind his future. In all his vague post-war +schemes for reorganization of the social system, Phineas had his +place. No further need for dear old Phineas to stand in light green +and gold outside a picture palace. He had thought it out long ago, +although he had never said a word to Phineas. Now he could set the +poor chap's mind at rest for ever. + +He looked round contentedly, and saw Peggy and a companion coming down +the ward, together. But it was not Phineas. It was a girl in black. + +He raised himself, forgetful of exquisite pain, on his right elbow, +and stared in a thrill of amazement. + +And Jeanne came to him, and there were no longer ghosts behind her +eyes, for they shone like stars. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROUGH ROAD*** + + +******* This file should be named 27786.txt or 27786.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/7/7/8/27786 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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