When about twenty minutes later William and Melia, haloed with history,
emerged from the precincts of the Canteen, and as they did so treading,
in a manner of speaking, the circumambient air, they were at once
confronted by the spectacle of Bus 49 next the adjacent curb. And Bus
49, according to its own account of the matter, was going amongst other
places to Piccadilly Circus.
It was the first visit of the Corporal to the metropolis, but in his
mind was lurking the sure knowledge that Piccadilly Circus was the
exact and indubitable center thereof; and by an association of ideas,
he also seemed to remember that Piccadilly Circus was where the King
lived. Such being the case, the apparition at that moment of Bus 49 was
about as providential as anything could have been.
It was the work of an instant to get aboard the gracious engine, so
swift the workings of the human mind in those dynamic moments when Fate
itself appears, as the sailors say, to stand by to go about. Moreover
the conductor had politely informed the Corporal that there was room
for two on the top.
That was a golden journey, a kind of voyage to silken Samarcand and
cedared Lebanon, allowing of course for reduction according to scale.
So miraculously were their hearts attuned to venturing, that for one
rapt hour they drank deep of poetry and romance this glorious midday of
July.
Bus 49 knew its business thoroughly, no bus better. Instead of turning
pretty sharp to the left into that complacent purlieu Portland Place,
as a bus of less experience might have done in order to follow the line
of flight of some mythical crow or other, it chose to go on and on,
past Madame Tussaud's, the Hotel Great Central, and then by a series
of minor but hardly less historic landmarks along Edgware Road to the
Marble Arch, thence via Park Lane to Hyde Park Corner.
No doubt Bus 49 had ideas. The ordinary machine of commerce would have
got from Euston to Piccadilly Circus in two shakes of a duck's tail.
Not so this accomplished metropolitan, this gorgeous midday of July.
From Hyde Park Corner it proceeded to Victoria, thence via the Army
and Navy Stores to the Houses of Parliament, down Whitehall, past the
lions and Horatio, Viscount Nelson, past the Crédit Lyonnais, up the
Haymarket and so at last to Swan and Edgar's corner, where William and
Melia dismounted, thrilled as never before in all their lives.
Piccadilly Circus, all the same, was a shade disappointing. It was not
quite so grand as they expected. The Criterion was just opposite, but
they looked in vain for the King's residence. There did not appear to
be a sign of that. Bill, however, noticed a policeman, and decided to
make inquiries.
"I want Buckingham Palace, please," said the wearer of the King's
uniform.
Constable X 20, an intelligent officer, told the gallant corporal to
walk along Piccadilly, to which famous thoroughfare he pointed with
professional majesty, to turn down the street of Saint James, to keep
right on until he got to the bottom and then to ask again.
The constable was thanked for his lucidity and William and Melia
proceeded according to instructions. Along Piccadilly itself their
progress was a triumph. For, as Melia was quick to observe, all the
best people saluted Bill. Of course they could tell by the stripe on
his sleeve that he had been made a corporal, but such open, public
and official recognition of his merit was intensely gratifying.
Brass-hatted, beribboned, extraordinarily distinguished looking
warriors were as punctilious as could be in saluting Bill. Those
placed less highly, the rank and file, the common herd, paid him less
attention, but what were these in the scale of an infinitely larger
and nobler tribute? By the time William and Melia turned down Saint
James's street, had an observant visitor from Mars had the privilege of
walking behind them he would have been bound to conclude that the most
important man in the Empire was Corporal Hollis.
He would not have been alone in that feeling for Melia was in a
position to share it with him. In fact by the time they had traversed
the historic thoroughfare and had reached Pall Mall the feeling
dominated her mind. On every hand the great ones of the earth mustered
thicker and thicker, but they kept on saluting Bill. Such a reception
was hardly to have been expected at the center of all things, yet in
those thrilling moments so proud was Melia of her man that it did not
seem very surprising after all.
They crossed the road to the fine and ancient building with the clock
on it, and after making quite sure that the King didn't live there--a
pardonable delusion under which for a moment they had labored--they
proceeded past it, leaving Marlborough House on the port bow, and then
suddenly, as they came into the Mall, they caught a first glimpse of
that which they were out for to see.
Converging slowly upon the King's residence Melia's courage began to
fail.
It was a very warm day for one thing. And the sentry in his box, not to
mention his brethren marching up and down in front of the railings, may
have daunted her. Moreover, the Palace itself was an exceeding stately
pile. Besides, she had seen the Queen already. And Bill had passed the
time of day with her. Thus it was, gazing in silent awe through those
stern railings across that noble courtyard, Melia suddenly made up her
mind.
"No, Bill, I don't think I'll see the King to-day--not in this dress."
Corporal Hollis looked solemnly at the dress in question and then at
its wearer. "It's as _you_ like, you know, Mother," he said.