He crossed the Lagan in the ferry-boat, so impatient was he to get
quickly to Maggie, but when he reached the restaurant, Maggie was not
there. He stood in the doorway, looking about the large room, but there
was no one present, for it was too early yet for mid-day meals. Maggie
was probably engaged in the small room at the back of the restaurant
and would presently appear. It was Mrs. Bothwell who came to answer his
call.
"Oh, good morning!" he said, trying to keep the note of disappointment
out of his voice.
"Good morning," she answered.
"It's a brave day!"
"It's not so bad," she grudgingly admitted.
"Is ... is Maggie in?" he asked.
"In!" she exclaimed, looking at him with astonishment plain on her
face.
"Yes. Isn't she in? She's not sick or anything, is she?" he replied
anxiously.
"Oh, dear bless you, no! She's not sick," Mrs. Bothwell said. "Do you
mean to say you don't know where she is?"
"No, I ... I don't, Mrs. Bothwell!" There was a note of apprehension in
his voice. "I thought, she'd be here!"
"But haven't you been to the house?"
"No," he answered. "I've just arrived from Ballyards this minute.
What's wrong, Mrs. Bothwell!"
"There's nothing wrong that I know of. Only I don't understand you not
knowing about it. Why aren't you at the church?"
"Church!"
"Aye. Sure, I'd be there myself only I can't leave the shop. I'm glad
she's getting a fine day for it anyway!"
John touched her on the arm. "I don't understand what you're talking
about, Mrs. Bothwell," he said. "What's happening!"
"Didn't you know she's being married the day on a policeman?..."
"Married!" he exclaimed incredulously.
"Aye. She's been going with him this long while back, and now that he's
been promoted ... they've made him a sergeant ... they've got married.
She's done well for herself. How is it you didn't know about it, and
you and her such chums together?"
"Did I hear you saying she's getting married the day?" he murmured,
gazing at her in a stupefied fashion.
"That's what. I keep on telling you," she replied, "only you don't pay
no heed to me. I thought you were her cousin!..."
"No, I'm not her cousin," he answered. "I was ... I was going with her.
That's all. I'm sorry to have bothered you, Mrs. Bothwell!"
"Oh, it's no bother at all. She must have been having you on, for the
banns was up at St. George's this three weeks!..."
"St. George's!" he repeated.
"Aye, these three weeks. She had a fancy to be married in St. George's
Church, for all it's a ritualistic place, and people says they're going
fast to Popery there. But I don't wonder at her, for it's quare and
nice to see the wee boys in their surplices, singing the hymns!..."
He interrupted her. "Three weeks ago," he said, as if calculating.
"That must have been soon after I met her for the first time. I met her
here in this room, Mrs. Bothwell. I'd been to the Royal to see a play,
and I came in here for my tea, and I struck up to her for I liked her
look!..."
"Oh, she's a nice enough looking girl is Maggie, though looks is not
everything," Mrs. Bothwell interjected.
"She never told me!..."
"Oh, well, if it comes to that, you never told her anything about
yourself, did you?" Mrs. Bothwell demanded. "I suppose she thought you
were just a fellow out for a bit of fun, and she might as well have a
bit of fun, too!"
"But I wasn't out for fun," he exclaimed. "I was in earnest!"
"That's where you made your mistake," said Mrs. Bothwell. "I'm sorry
for you, but sure you're young enough not to take a thing like that to
heart, and she's not the only girl in the world by a long chalk. By the
time you're her age, she'll have a child or two, and'll mebbe be
feeling very sorry for herself ... and you'll have the world fornent
you still! A young fellow like you isn't going to let a wee thing like
that upset you?"
"It isn't a wee thing, Mrs. Bothwell. It's a big thing," he insisted.
"Och, sure, everything's big looking 'til you see something bigger. One
of these days you'll be wondering what in the earthly world made you
think twice about her!"
He turned away from her and moved towards the door, but suddenly he
remembered the letter which he had written to Maggie on the previous
evening.
"Did a letter for her come this morning?" he said, turning again to
Mrs. Bothwell. "I wrote to her last night to tell her I was coming up
the day!"
"One did come," she answered. "I put it in the kitchen, intending to
re-address it when I had a minute to spare. I'll go and get it. I
suppose you don't want it sent on to her now?"
"No, I don't. It was only to tell her I'd meet her here!"
"Well, I'll bring it to you then." She went into the kitchen and
presently returned, carrying John's letter in her hand. "Is this it?"
she said. "It's got the Ballyards postmark on it."
He took it from her. "Yes, that's it," he replied, tearing it in
pieces. "Could I trouble you to put it in the fire," he said, handing
the torn paper to her.
"It's no trouble at all," she answered, taking the pieces from him.
"Good morning, Mrs. Bothwell!" he said.
"Well, good morning to you!"
He opened the door and was about to pass out of the restaurant when she
spoke to him again.
"I wouldn't let a thing like that upset me if I was you," she said.
"Sure, what's one girl more nor another girl! You'll get your pick and
choice before long. A fine fellow like you'll not go begging for
nothing!"
"I'm not letting it upset me," he said, "but it'll be the queer girl
that'll make a fool of me in a hurry!"
"That's the spirit,'"' said Mrs. Bothwell.