For an appreciable number of seconds after the door had closed
Christina continued to gaze in its direction, her head well up, her
face stern and rather pale. Then, quite suddenly, her bosom gave a
quick heave, her lips parted, trembling, her eyes blinked, her
whole attitude became lax. But she was not going to cry; certainly
not! She was far too angry for tears; angry with herself no less
than Macgregor. He had actually departed without being dismissed;
worse still, he had had the last word! An observer--the thought
struck her--would have assumed that she, weak wretch, had humbly
allowed him to go and leave her in the wrong! Her maiden pride had
somehow failed her, for she ought to have sent him forth crushed.
And yet, surely, she had hurt, punished, humiliated him. Oh, no
doubt of that! And for a moment her illogical heart wavered. She
drew out her hanky, muttering 'how I hate him!'--and blew her
pretty nose. Then she clenched her hands and set her teeth. Then
she went lax again. Then--oh, dear! he had even insulted her by
leaving her to pick up the cast-off ring!--for, of course, she
could not leave it there for Miss Tod or a customer to see.
Haughtily she moved round the counter and with scornful finger-tips
took up the tiny wreckage of a great hope. The gold was twisted
and bruised, the little pearls were loose in their places. All at
once she felt a horrid pain in her throat. . . .
Miss Tod appeared, fresh from the joys of strong tea.
'Oh, lassie, ha'e ye hurted yersel'?'
Christina choked, recovered herself and cried: 'I've sold a
blighter a sixpenny notebook for threepence, an' I'll never get
over it as long as I live. B--but I hope that'll no be long!'
Just then Heaven sent a customer.
* * * * *
And perhaps Heaven sent the telegram that Macgregor found on his
return home, rather late in the afternoon. The war has changed
many things and people, but mothers most of all. Mrs. Robinson
made no mention of the 'extra special' dinner prepared so vainly in
her son's honour. 'Yer fayther missed ye,' was her only reference
to his absence from the meal.
The telegram was an order to return to duty. The mother and sister
saw his eyes change, his shoulders stiffen.
'Maybe something's gaun to happen at last,' he said; and almost in
the same breath, though in a different voice--'Christina's finished
wi' me. It was ma ain fau't. Ye needna speak aboot it. I--I'm no
heedin'--greatly.' He cleared his throat. 'I'll awa' up to the
works an' say guid-bye to father. Jimsie can come, if he likes.
Ye needna tell him the noo--what I tell't ye.'
Jimsie, summoned from play, was proud to go with his big brother.
He was ill next day owing to a surfeit of good things consumed at
high pressure, but not too ill to discuss what he would purchase
with the half-crown that seemed to have stuck to his hot little paw.
Back from the works, Macgregor found tea awaiting him. His mother
and sister were not a little relieved by his cheerfulness, though
they were to doubt its sincerity later. But the boy had never made
a greater effort for the sake of those who loved him than in that
little piece of dissembling.
The parting was brief. An embrace, a kiss, a word or two that
meant little yet all--and he was out of the home.
His laugh, slightly subdued, came up the well of the
staircase--'Maybe it's anither false alarm!'
'They looked over the rail, mute but trying to smile, and saw the
last of him--a hurrying sturdy, boyish figure, kilt swinging and
hand aloft in final farewell.
His route took him through the street of Miss Tod's shop. It was
characteristic of Macgregor that he did not choose another and less
direct course. He neither hesitated nor looked aside as he marched
past the shop. The sense of injustice still upheld him. 'She
never gi'ed me a chance!' . . . And so back to Duty.
* * * * *
Not more than five minutes later Private William Thomson came along
in hot haste and banged into the shop.
'Macgreegor no here?' he demanded, and looked astounded.
'No,' answered Christina, without laying down the book she had been
trying to read.
'Jist left ye?'
'No.'
'When did ye see him?'
'This morning.'
'Gor! I could ha'e bet onything I wud ha'e catched him here. He
had jist left the hoose when I----'
'Why are you so excited?' she coldly inquired.
'Me? I'm no excited. Jist been canoodlin' wi' ma aunt. She
sprung five bob! Come oot an' I'll stan' ye a slider.'
'I regret I cannot accept your kind invitation.'
'Haw, haw! It's you for the language! But I say!' He leaned over
the counter. 'What way are ye no greetin'?'
She flushed hotly, wondering how much he knew or guessed, but
replied coolly enough: 'I have nothing to weep about. Have you?'
'Plenty, by Jings! I expected to see yer eyes an' nose rid,
onyway, Christina.'
'Indeed! Is that how it affects you?'
He looked hard at her. 'My! ye're a game yin!' he said admiringly.
'Weel, I maun slope,' he went on, with a sigh that sounded absurd,
coming from him. 'I suppose ye've nae message for
Macgreegor--something ye forgot to say at the last meenute? Eh?'
Christina was at a loss. Apparently he knew nothing, yet his
manner was odd.
'No message, thank you,' said she slowly.
'Then I'll bid ye guid-bye--an' I could bet ye a bob ye'll never
see me again. So I'll tell ye something.' His words came with a
rush. 'Ye're aboot the nicest girl I ever kent, Christina.
Macgreegor's a luckier deevil nor he deserves. But I'll look efter
him for ye in Flanders. Trust me for that. Noo that we're really
boun' for the Front, in a day or so, things is different--at least
I'm feelin' different. Dinna laugh! I--I dinna want to ha'e ony
enemies but the Germans. I've jist been an' kissed ma
aunt--dammit! An' noo'--he caught her hand, pulled her to
him--'I'm gaun to kiss _you_! There!' He turned and bolted.
Christina's hand went to her cheek, and fell back to her side. Her
colour ebbed as swiftly as it had flowed. She began to shake.
'Bound for the Front, in a day or so.' . . .
Later she went to the sitting-room where her employer was once more
absorbing comfort from a cup. 'Miss Tod,' she said quietly, 'I
want to gang hame.'