There happened to be a little delay in providing the later batches
of recruits with the garb proper to their battalion, and it was the
Monday of their third week in training when Privates
Robinson--otherwise Macgregor--and Thomson saw themselves for the
first time in the glory of the kilt. Their dismay would doubtless
have been overwhelming had they been alone in that glory; even with
numerous comrades in similar distress they displayed much
awkwardness and self-consciousness. During drill Willie received
several cautions against standing in a semi-sitting attitude, and
Macgregor, in his anxiety to avoid his friend's error, made himself
ridiculous by standing on his toes, with outstretched neck and
fixed, unhappy stare.
As if to intensify the situation, the leave for which they had
applied a few days previously was unexpectedly granted for that
evening. Before he realized what he was saying, Macgregor had
inquired whether he might go without his kilt. Perhaps he was not
the first recruit to put it that way. Anyway, the reply was a curt
'I don't think.'
'I believe ye're ashamed o' the uniform,' said Willie, disagreeable
under his own disappointment at the verdict.
'Say it again!' snapped Macgregor.
Willie ignored the invitation, and swore by the great god Jings
that he would assuredly wear breeks unless something happened. The
only thing that may be said to have happened was that he did not
wear breeks.
As a matter of fact, Macgregor, with his sturdy figure, carried his
kilt rather well. The lanky William, however, gave the impression
that he was growing out of it perceptibly, yet inevitably.
Four o'clock saw them started on their way, and with every step
from the camp, which now seemed a lost refuge, their kilts felt
shorter, their legs longer, their knees larger, their person
smaller. Conversation soon dried up. Willie whistled tunelessly
through his teeth; Macgregor kept his jaw set and occasionally and
inadvertently kicked a loose stone. Down on the main road an
electric car bound for Glasgow hove in sight. Simultaneously they
started to run. After a few paces they pulled up, as though
suddenly conscious of unseemliness, and resumed their sober
pace--and lost the car.
They boarded the next, having sacrificed twelve precious minutes of
their leave. Of course, they would never have dreamed of
travelling 'inside'--and yet . . . They ascended as gingerly as
a pretty girl aware of ungainly ankles surmounts a stile. Arrived
safely on the roof, they sat down and puffed each a long breath
suggestive of grave peril overcome. They covered their knees as
far as they could and as surreptitiously as possible.
Presently, with the help of cigarettes, which they smoked
industriously, they began to revive. Their lips were unsealed,
though conversation could not be said to gush. They did their best
to look like veterans. An old woman smiled rather sadly, but very
kindly, in their direction, and Macgregor reddened, while Willie
spat in defiance of the displayed regulation.
As the journey proceeded, their talk dwindled. It was after a long
pause that Willie said:
'Ye'll be for hame as sune as we get to Glesca--eh?'
'Ay. . . . An' you'll be for yer aunt's--eh?'
'Ay,' Willie sighed, and lowering his voice, said: 'What'll ye dae
if they laugh at ye?'
'They'll no laugh,' Macgregor replied, some indignation in his
assurance.
'H'm! . . . Maybe _she'll_ laugh at ye.'
'Nae fears!' But the confident tone was overdone. Macgregor,
after all, was not quite sure about Christina. She laughed at so
many things. He was to meet her at seven, and of late he had lost
sleep wondering how she would receive his first appearance in the
kilt. He dreaded her chaff more than any horrors of war that lay
before him.
'Aw, she'll laugh, sure enough,' croaked Willie. 'I wud ha'e
naething to dae wi' the weemen if I was you. Ye canna trust them,'
added this misogynist of twenty summers.
Macgregor took hold of himself. 'What'll ye dae if yer aunt
laughs?' he quietly demanded.
'Her? Gor! I never heard her laugh yet--excep' in her sleep efter
eatin' a crab. But by Jings, if she laughs at me, I--I'll gang oot
an' ha'e a beer!'
'But ye've ta'en the pledge.'
'To ----! I forgot aboot that. Weel, I--I'll wait an' see what
she's got in for the tea first. . . . But she _canna_ laugh. I'll
bet ye a packet o' fags she greets.'
'I'll tak' ye on!'
It may be said at once that the wager was never decided, for the
simple reason that when the time came Willie refused all
information--including the fact that his aunt had kissed him.
Which is not, alas, to say that his future references to her were
to be more respectful than formerly.
* * * * *
At three minutes before seven Macgregor stood outside Miss Tod's
little shop, waiting for the departure of a customer. It would be
absurd to say that his knees shook, but it is a fact that his
spirit trembled. Suspended from a finger of his left hand was a
small package of Christina's favourite sweets, which unconsciously
he kept spinning all the time. His right hand was chiefly occupied
in feeling for a pocket which no longer existed, and then trying to
look as if it had been doing something entirely different. He
wished the customer would 'hurry up'; yet when she emerged at last,
he was not ready. He was miserably, desperately afraid of
Christina's smile, and just as miserably, desperately desirous to
see it again.
Solemnly seven began to toll from a church tower. He pulled
himself up. After all, why should she laugh? And if she
did--well. . . .
Bracing himself, he strode forward, grasped the rattling handle and
pushed. The little signal bell above the door went off with a
monstrous 'ding' that rang through his spine, and in a condition of
feverish moistness he entered, and, halting a pace within, saw in
blurred fashion, and seemingly at a great distance, the loveliest
thing he knew.
Christina did smile, but it was upon, not at, him. And she said
lightly, and by no means unkindly:
'Hullo, Mac! . . . Ye've had yer hair cut.'
From sheer relief after the long strain, something was bound to
give way. The string on his finger snapped and the package,
reaching the floor, gaily exploded.