As soon as he arrived in the metropolis, Corporal Hollis with Melia
rather nervously gripping his arm stepped boldly into the Euston Road
to have a look at London. Almost the first thing he saw was a Canteen,
a token that at once reminded him that his rifle and kit were heavy,
that the wife and he had breakfasted rather early and rather hurriedly
and that nothing at that moment could hope to compare with a couple of
ham sandwiches and a cup of coffee.
When the question was put to Melia she was inclined to think so too,
although far too bewildered by the mighty flux around her to give any
special thought to the matter. However very wisely, nay providentially,
as it turned out, after a moment's hesitation they decided to cross
the road and follow the promptings of nature. As they passed through
the inviting doors of the Canteen there was nothing to tell them that
anything particular was going to happen, yet perhaps they ought to
have remembered that this was London where the Particular is always
happening.
They had not to fight their way through a crowd in order to get in
or anything of that sort. Nor were people walking on one another's
heads when they did get in. There was plenty of room for all. Full
privates were in the majority, but the non-commissioned ranks were also
represented, among whom was a Scotsman who had risen to be a sergeant.
But Corporal Hollis appeared to be the only warrior who had brought
his lawful wedded missus. It was a breach of the rules for one thing,
but there was any amount of room, and he managed to stow her away in a
quiet corner where they could have a table to themselves; and then he
moved across to a cubbyhole where a nice fatherly old sportsman with
side whiskers and brown spats relieved him of his rifle and kit and
gave him a card with a number in exchange. Then the gallant Corporal, a
composite of well-bred diffidence and martial mien, sauntered up to the
counter at the end of the room where a Real Smart Piece in a mob cap
and jumper gave him the smile interrogative. After a moment's survey of
the good things around him, he magnificently went the limit. The limit
was ninepence: to wit, two fried eggs, a rasher of bacon, bread and
butter and a cup of tea; in this case ditto repeato, once for himself,
once for Melia.
The Corporal was by no means sure that the R.S.P. would stand for a
Twicer but she was one of the noble breed that prefers to use common
sense rather than raise obstacles. After one arch glance in the
direction of Melia she booked the order without demur.
In the process of time the order was executed and they set to upon
this second breakfast with a breadth of style which almost raised it to
the dignity of luncheon. By the time they were through it was half-past
midday already, and they were discussing this fact and its bearing on
the general program when the great Event began to happen.
It came about unobtrusively, in quite a casual way. Neither the
Corporal nor his lady paid much attention at first, but of a sudden
the nice fatherly old sportsman who had relieved the former of his
rifle and kit came out of his cubbyhole and a dashing trio of R.S.P.'s
emerged from a mysterious region at the back of beyond, proving
thereby that the counter had no monopoly of these luxuries, and the
Scotch sergeant moved a pace or two nearer the door, where the London
daylight seemed a bit better in quality, and then Bill's R.S.P., who
was absolutely the pick of the bunch, although such comparisons are
invariably as idle as they are to be deplored, was heard to use a word
that appeared to rhyme with Mother.
Of course it could not have been Bother or any word like it. And
whatever it may have been, was not, at that moment, as far as the
Corporal and his lady were concerned, of the slightest importance. To
them it meant nothing. It meant less than nothing. For a startling
rumor was afoot....
The Queen was coming.
William was a military man and fully determined to bear himself with
the coolness of one on parade, but his air of stoicism was but a
poor cloak to his feelings. As for Melia, if not exactly _flustered_,
she was excited more than a little. Still in this epic moment it was
a strengthening thought that she had had that yard and a half of new
ribbon put on her hat.
That was an instance of subconscious but prophetic foresight. There was
nothing to tell her that the first lady in the land would nip across
from Buckingham Palace as soon as she heard that Bill was in London.
It was hardly to have been expected. In the first place it was truly
remarkable that she should so soon have heard of his arrival. And of
course it was by no means certain that this casual and informal visit
of hers was inspired by William. In fact if you came to think of it----
But there was really no time to weigh the pros and the cons of what
after all was a superfluous inquiry, for a commotion had arisen already
beyond the farther door. And even at this late moment, and in spite of
a general stiffening of the phalanx of R.S.P.'s and other details, and
the stately advance of the nice old warrior through the swing doors
into the Euston Road, even then Corporal Hollis, with true military
skepticism, was not sure that it was not an Oaks.
However the question was soon settled. The commotion increased, the
throng of important looking people surprisingly grew, and in the
midst of it appeared a lady whom William and Melia would have known
anywhere. She was remarkably like her portraits except that the reality
surpassed them. There was a great deal of bowing and walking backwards
and the serried rows of R.S.P.'s made curtsys, and then all ranks stood
up and removed their hats. William and Melia stood up too, but only
William doffed his helmet.
It was the Scotsman who claimed the first share of the august
visitor's notice. Her eye lit at once on this son of Caledonia, who
unconsciously, by sheer force of climate, began to tower above all
the rest, returning answer for question with inimitable coolness and
mastery. All the Saxons present were lost in envy, but they were fain
to acquiesce in the stern truth that nature has made it impossible to
keep back a Scotsman. In spite of top hats and swallow-tails it was
clear at a glance that he was the best man there.
All the same the august visitor, helped by a simple and friendly lady
who accompanied her, contrived to distribute her favors impartially.
The son of Caledonia was so compelling that it would have been a
pleasure to talk to him for an hour, but duty and justice forbade, and
she found a smile and a word for humbler mortals. Among these, and last
of all in her tour of the large room were Bill and Melia.
Corporal Hollis could not be expected to display the entrain of a
sergeant of the Black Watch. Besides he had yet to cross the water
whereas Caledonia's son was a hero of Mons and the Marne. But the
gallant corporal did his regiment no discredit in that great moment,
likewise his wife Melia, nor famed Blackhampton, his fair natal city.