'You might see poor old Sam to-morrow, he's somewhere in the hospital.
He wants to marry the S.P.' And he smiled a little.
'Ought you to talk so much?' I asked.
'It doesn't matter when I can,' he answered, 'there are such a lot of
things I want to say. That night when we were in the trench Sam said,
"If we get out of this alive I want to marry Emma, if you've no
objection, sir."
'"Who on earth," I said, "is Emma, Brown?"
'"Miss Margaret's parlourmaid, you know, sir."
'"Oh, the S.P., yes. Well, Sam, why shouldn't you if the lady's
willing?"
'"If you've no objection, sir," he said again.
'"You're not by any chance asking for my permission, are you, Sam?"
'"Yes, I am, sir."
'"Well, you have it," I replied, laughing. "I won't forbid the banns,
and good luck, Sam, you always were a funny ass."
'"Yes, sir, thank you, sir," he said--you know his funny way, Meg,
ah--it's coming--on again----'
And then a bout of pain, and although I loved him so there was nothing I
could do but watch and wipe the pouring sweat and pray for God to take
him. When it passed I offered him some brandy, but he said,--
'No, keep it for the bad turns.'
Ah, God, was there worse than that?
He spoke of Michael and daddy, and his little Gidg., and sent messages
to Nannie and Charlie and one or two others, and then suddenly there was
nothing in the world for him again but pain, and I could only watch and
wait and pray and agonise.
The sister came in with some milk and food for me, but as I shook my
head she, with a glance of pity at the bed, was taking it away when Ross
opened his eyes and signed for her to leave it. He let me sponge his
face and hands but 'No, no brandy, just a little water.'
'Is it too hard for you, Jonathan?' he whispered as he saw that the
glass trembled a little. (Too hard for me? ah, Ross, always yourself
last), and, choking back the tears, I told him 'No.'
Presently, when he felt a little easier, he opened his eyes and said,
'Eat your supper, darling,' but as I shook my head he added, with a
flash of his old mastery,--
'Just the milk, little 'un. I must send you away if you don't. Sit
where I can see you, there by the fire. I told nurse you liked one at
night, you always felt so chilly.'
I drank the milk to please him, and ate a bit of biscuit as he lay and
watched me. Then as I crossed the room to kiss him he said,--
'You are so sweet when you obey one, and that half biscuit was pure,
unadulterated virtue, Meg! How very "cowogated" it is to-night,' and he
laughed as he tried to stroke my hair, and as I leaned over him he
whispered,--
'Such a perfect little sister always, Jonathan.'