Christina was arranging the counter for the day's business when the
postman brought her a letter in a green envelope with the imprint
'On Active Service'. Her heart leapt only to falter as her eyes
took in the unfamiliar writing. Then under the 'Certificate' on
the left-hand side she perceived the signature--'W. Thomson.'
Something dreadful must have happened! She sat down and gazed at
the envelope, fingering it stupidly. At last she pulled herself
together and opened it. The letter was dirty, ill-written, badly
spelt; but so are many of the finest-spirited letters of these days.
'If you are wanting a perfeck man, by yourself a statute from the
muesum. Then you can treat him cold and he will not nottice other
girls when you leav him for to enjoy yourself. Mac was not for
haveing anny when he first seen Maggie, but he was vext at you, and
I eggged him on with telling him he was feared, and he took her in
a cab becaus it was poring, and maybe he gave her a bit sqeese, I
do not no for certin, but it is more like she began it, for Maggie
woud rather take a cuddel nor a good dinner anny day. Likewize
there is times when a chap must sqeese something. It is no dash
use for a girl to expeck her intended to keep looking at her when
she is not there, unless she makes it worth his while with nice
letters and so fourth. He gets soon fed up on cold nothings. Mac
does not care a roten aple for Maggie, but you left him nothing
better, and she is a nice girl and soft with a man, so God forgive
you as I will not till I hear you are reddy to kiss him again. Mac
is wounded in 2 places, but not mortle. He got wounded saveing my
life. I am not wounded yet. He garded my back, which saved me.
Probly you will see him soon, so prepare to behave yourself.
Remmember you alowed me to kiss you??? Hopping you will take this
good advice more kindly nor usual.
Yours resp.
W. THOMSON,
Lce. Corp. 9th H.L.I.
P.S.--If you was less proud and more cuddelsom, you woud not loss
much fun in this world.--W. T., Lce. Corp. 9th H.L.I.
* * * * *
Macgregor was in a small hospital not far from London. While not
to be described as serious, his wounds were likely to keep him out
of action for several months to come. He was comfortable, and the
people were very kind. Their English speech puzzled him almost as
much as his Scotch amused them.
More tired than pained, he lay idly watching the play of light on
his old-fashioned ring, the gift of Mrs. McOstrich. It had reached
him just before he was borne from France, too late, he thought, to
bring him luck. But the only luck he wanted now was Christina. He
had her brief note by heart. There was kindness but no comfort in
the words; forgiveness, maybe, but no promise of reconciliation.
Truly he had made a horrid mess of it; nevertheless he rebelled
against taking all the blame. Christina could not have cared much
when she would listen to no explanations. . . . Now he had a great
longing for the touch of his mother and the smile of his father,
the soft speech of Jeannie and the eager pipings of wee Jimsie.
Also, he wondered, with a sort of ache, how Willie was faring.
A nurse appeared, sorted his pillow, chatted for a moment, then
went and drew down the blinds against the afternoon sun. And
presently Macgregor dropped into a doze.
He awoke to what seemed a dream. Of all people, Aunt Purdie was
seated at his bedside.
In a hesitating way, quite unlike her, she put out her hand, laid
it on his and patted gently.
'What's up?' he exclaimed in astonishment.
'How do you do, Macgregor?' she said formally yet timidly.
'Fine, thenk ye,' he answered from sheer force of habit.
Then--'Ye've come a lang road to see me,' he said, gratitude
asserting itself.
'It _is_ a conseederable distance,' she returned, with some
recovery of her old manner. 'Your uncle said I must go the moment
he heard where you were, and I quite homologated him. We was all
copiously relieved to hear of the non-seriosity of your wounds. I
have letters for you from your parents and sister, forbye your
brother James. Your mother was anxious to come, too, but decided
to wait for my report, your condeetion not being grave. All well
at home and proud of you, but I was en rout before I heard the most
gratifying news.' She cleared her throat with an important cough,
and Macgregor hoped none of the other chaps in the ward were
listening. 'I am exceedingly proud of you, Macgregor!'
'Me? What for?'
'Ah, do not distimulate, my boy; do not be too modest. You have
saved a comrade's life! It was magneeficent!'
'Eh?'
'Oh, I know all about it--how you protected your friend William
with your wounded body----'
Macgregor's hand went to his head. 'I suppose I'm sober,' he
muttered. 'Wha was stuffin' ye wi' a' this, Aunt Purdie?'