MAKING UP WITH ADELA.
Adela’s last letter certainly made me feel a silly ass. Somehow, it
upset my usual happy trend of thought. I couldn’t work, and my soul
was torn with conflicting emotions. One moment I hated her; the next I
loved her. Then the Devil would whisper in my ear, ‘What has she got to
do with it, John Brown? Sow your wild oats. Have your fun. Everybody’s
doin’ it.’
Privately speaking, Adela was right; but this righteousness annoyed
me. She wasn’t my sister or my mater, and yet she was giving me fits
for having a bit of fun. Still, Adela was sweet. She had a way with
her. The attraction was both physical and spiritual. She had that
sort of healthy figure which makes a student of eugenics stop in the
street and mutter, ‘Here’s the model girl!’ Adela was also a ripping
hockey–player, and one of the best at tennis. When men saw her knocking
about with a racquet she seemed irresistible. They wanted to know
her—wanted to kiss her. And she liked a bit of fun; but she wasn’t a
fool. A girl who can live in a country parish without getting a sticky
label on her name must be rather decent.
Somehow, she balanced my emotions. After indulging in sloppy things for
a time, she would say, ‘Come on, John; don’t be decadent. Let’s talk.’
Then we separated our chairs, smoked cigarettes, and chatted away about
Kipling, Galsworthy, Hardy, Byron, and Shelley.
Adela could talk. In the country she had found time to think. Her
observations were so very shrewd and sane that I often said to myself,
‘This girl would make a topping wife and mother.’ I pictured her with
rosy–cheeked kiddies playing in a garden. You needn’t say that was
silly. The best people do it.
And yet she had dropped me (_pro tem._) for these Australians!
However, affection will out. I wanted to see Adela again; and Beefy
wanted to see her sister. You see, Beefy was a little bored kissing
barmaids, and longed for something more congenial. As a matter of fact,
Beefy was commencing to _think_. This was a revolution.
‘Come on, John. Jump on. We’ll go and see somebody decent to–day,’ he
said.
Away we went, and in twenty minutes Adela and I were alone in the
lovely conservatory overlooking a beautiful country–side. And didn’t
Adela look well! She had such a nice short skirt which showed her
dainty ankles. But it was in her face and eyes I found rest and
consolation.
Adela was clean.
‘Have a smoke, John. They’re State Express,’ she said, pushing
the box over. ‘And here’s a cup of white coffee.’ This tempting
beverage was served in a charming cup. As she passed it I touched
her hand—accidentally, of course. I was thrilled. ‘Now, Johnnie,’
she said very quietly, ‘let’s have this thing out. I hate being bad
friends, and I don’t like to hear my pals being discussed by cooks and
kitchen–maids.’
‘You’re jealous,’ I said maliciously.
‘I’m jealous for your uniform, not for you. My brother has the D.S.O.,
and he wouldn’t make an ass of himself—at least, not in a local hotel.
You haven’t learnt wisdom, old boy.’
‘Well, you’re to blame. Why did you toddle off with those Australians?’
‘What a babe you are! You and Beefy must have a weak kink. Can’t we see
other people? And don’t you think you’re just a little presumptuous?’
‘Perhaps. But I didn’t break any commandments, I can assure you.’
‘You don’t need to break a commandment to be a fool. People don’t judge
by the great things. They sum you up from little things. When they find
cadets hobnobbing with barmaids and fooling around with chorus–girls,
they think and talk a lot.’
‘Oh, be a sport, for Heaven’s sake! One would think you were at a
Dorcas Society,’ I said, getting rattled.
‘Very well, Johnnie, if you’re going to be rude, and not man enough to
face things out, you can go. Men may be scarce, but girls, at least,
have a sense of decency and pride.’
‘Awfully sorry, old girl. Really, I didn’t mean to be nasty. But, you
know, you are making a song about it. I’m really sorry, or I shouldn’t
be here. I’ve been dying to come all the time. I vowed I would never
see you again. But here I am. It’s all you!’
She smiled. She was a woman, after all. (Between you and me, Adela was
a bit soft on your humble.)
‘You’ll never do it again, will you?’
‘Never—honest Injun!’
‘Very well, you’re pardoned. And here’s a kiss.’
‘You’re a sport, Adela. But what about those other fellows?’
‘The Australians?’
‘Yes.’
‘They’re very nice people. When they want to come here, they can do so.
It isn’t for you to decide. Cheeky boy!’
‘Then you can’t be my special charmer.’
‘Who wants to be? Do you imagine we girls are going to allow you to
label us “Special” or “One of the Crowd”? Johnnie, you’re the limit!’
‘That’s my ultimatum!’
‘You’re a silly kid. If you met those two Australians, you would be
charmed. We have got to give hospitality to our relatives.’
‘Oh, then, they’re related?’
‘Yes—very old friends of the family.’
‘That makes a difference, Adela.’
‘Still, they’re interesting, although they’re relatives. I’m just
longing to see them again. You may come, too, and guard me, if you
like.’
‘I won’t!’
‘Oh!’
‘Do you think, Adela, I’m going to play second fiddle to your
bush–whacking cousins? Not at all! There’s always the barmaid for me.’
‘Really, I despair of you. You’re as narrow as can be. But I’m going
to be loyal to my friends.’
‘All right, Adela; I’m off,’ I said, getting up in a theatrical way. I
didn’t really mean to go. I wanted to test her. But I was so amazed at
her cool acceptance of my dramatic exit that I repeated, ‘Adela, I’m
off,’ and went to the door.
She followed me out, quietly helped me on with my coat, and, just as I
lifted my hat, she burst out laughing.
‘What are you laughing at?’
‘You, you silly boy.’
‘Oh!’
‘If I showed you the photo of the Australians, the joke would be
apparent.’
‘Well, show it to me,’ I said, glad of finding any excuse to stay.
‘Very well. Off with your coat!’
I took it off.
‘Now, come in here;’ and she led the way to the drawing–room. We
stepped across to the mantelpiece, and she lifted a photo. ‘There’s the
two Australians,’ she said, with a grin.
I looked at the photo of two beautiful Australian girls in
nursing–uniform, and muttered, ‘By Jove, what charming girls!’
‘Are you satisfied now, old King Jealousy?’
‘Yes; but why didn’t you tell me when you wrote the letter?’
‘Why?’
‘Yes.’
‘For a very womanly reason.’
‘What is it?’ I ejaculated, a little annoyed.
‘These girls are so handsome, I couldn’t afford to take risks. Don’t
you know that old music–hall song?’
‘What?’
‘“Never Introduce your Donah to a Pal.”’
‘Oh, that’s it, is it? You were afraid of them collaring Beefy and me.’
‘Yes, old boy; I’m like you—jealous.’
‘You needn’t have worried, Adela. I really like you.’
‘Do you, Johnnie?’ she eagerly exclaimed.
‘Yes,’ I answered.
As her head got mixed up with my khaki sleeves, I heard her murmuring,
‘Don’t be a silly ass again—John Brown.’