XIV

"Good-morning, Miss Vivian."

"Good-morning, Miss Collins. Please take a letter to--"

The stenographer giggled and tossed her red head: "Mrs. Baker-Bridges,

if you please!"

Char looked at her typist blankly for an instant, and then recovered

herself, unsmiling.

"Yes. This letter is to the Town Hall Hospital, and I wish you'd

remember, Miss Collins, to--"

"I haven't got used to it meself yet," Mrs. Baker-Bridges said coyly. "A

double name, too, so I suppose it's harder to remember."

"Will you make me three copies of this, please?"

"Yes, Miss Vivian."

Char dictated her letter very briskly, and avoided the use of her

stenographer's name, not wishing to submit to further correction. It did

not add to her complacency, during the busy days before Christmas, when

her instructions were received with an affronted giggle and "Mrs.

Baker-Bridges, _please_, Miss Vivian!"

Char was in rooms now, with the devoted Preston in attendance and

occasional visits from Miss Bruce. She was working very hard, and the

Christmas festivities indulged in by the Questerham Hospitals frequently

required her presence as guest of honour.

Char still retained a vivid recollection of finding herself next to Dr.

Prince on one of these occasions, both of them required to join in a

rousing chorus of which the refrain was

"All jolly comrades we!"

And the look which the doctor, singing lustily, had turned upon her,

held a humorousness that Char felt no disposition to reflect in her own

gaze. She was quite aware that neither of them had forgotten the

doctor's peroration delivered on the night of her decision to leave

Plessing, and the recollection of it still, almost unconsciously,

coloured all her official dealings with him.

It was therefore with surprise that she received an announcement from

Miss Jones one evening: "Dr. Prince is downstairs and wants to see you

for a moment."

"At this hour? Quite impossible! It's nearly seven, and I have

innumerable letters to sign."

Grace hesitated, and then said, very gently: "I think he's just come

from Plessing."

Char glanced at her sharply.

"Ask him to come up, then."

Sudden apprehension had taken possession of her, and increased at the

sight of the doctor's kind bearded face, with its lines of fatigue and

anxiety.

"What is it, Dr. Prince?"

"Could you spare me a few moments?"

"Certainly. Miss Jones, will you--"

Char, glancing round, saw with a slight feeling of annoyance that Miss

Jones had not waited to be dismissed. Char did not relish being

perpetually disconcerted by the independence of her junior secretary.

"A nice girl, that," said the doctor benevolently.

Char looked utterly unresponsive, and supposed rather indignantly to

herself that Dr. Prince had not come to the office at the end of a long

day's work merely in order to tell her that Miss Jones was a nice girl.

Something of the supposition was so evident in her manner that the

doctor added hastily: "But I mustn't take up your time. Only I've just

come from Plessing, and Lady Vivian asked me herself to come in here for

a moment and--and tell you--ask you, you know--just suggest--only throw

it out as a suggestion, since no doubt you've thought of it for

yourself--"

The doctor fell into a fine confusion, and looked imploringly at Char.

"Is my father worse?"

"No. I didn't mean to frighten you, Miss Vivian; I'm so sorry. He's not

worse, though, as you know, he's not gaining ground as we'd hoped, and

of course he's not getting any younger. But the fact is, that he's set

his heart on your being home for Christmas."

Char drew her brows together.

"Of course, I can arrange to spend a couple of nights there if he wishes

it. But my mother laid great emphasis on the fact that she did not wish

there to be any going backwards and forwards between the office and

Plessing, as you doubtless remember."

"My dear young lady, where Sir Piers's wishes are concerned, she has no

will but his. You don't need _me_ to tell you that."

"Of course," said Char musingly, "he has old-fashioned ideas as to one's

spending Christmas at home."

"Yes," said the doctor, "that's it. That was our generation, though I'm

twenty years younger than your father, Miss Vivian. But early Victorians

I suppose you'd call us both. He can't understand your not being at

home, all together, for Christmas-time. We can't disguise from ourselves

that his mind is a little--a very little--clouded, and he doesn't

rightly understand your absence."

"I can't go over that ground again," Char told him frigidly. "I was in

an exceedingly painful position, and had to choose between my home and

what I conceived to be my duty. As you know, I put my country's need

before any personal question just now."

"Yes, yes," said the doctor, obviously determined to stifle

recollections of his Hospital in its pre-Vivian days. "I--I see your

point, you know. But Sir Piers hears very little of the war nowadays,

and I don't think he connects your absence with that now."

"What does he suppose, then?" Char asked sharply.

"Miss Vivian, his mind is clouded. We can't deny that his mind is

clouded. I believe," said the doctor pitifully, "that he just thinks you

are away because Plessing is so dull and quiet. Lady Vivian promised him

that you were coming back for Christmas, and it pleased him."

"It is most unjust to me that the facts have not been explained to him."

"But you remember," the doctor reminded her gently, "that they _were_

explained to him before he got ill. And he wanted you to stay at home,

you know."

Char was silent.

"Well," said the doctor at length, "Lady Vivian suggested that I should

drive you out on Christmas Eve. I shall be going to Plessing then--next

Thursday."

"Thank you; but I'd better hire something if they can't send the car

from home. I may not get away till late. Troop-trains are pouring in,

and there is a great deal to be done. There are the Hospital festivities

to be considered."

The doctor repressed an inclination to say that he knew all about the

Hospital festivities, and instead answered that he quite understood, but

could arrange to call for Miss Vivian at any hour convenient to her.

"I will let you know, if I may."

Char, nothing if not self-possessed, rose to her feet, and it became

obvious that the interview was over.

"Good-night, Dr. Prince."

The dismissed doctor hurried downstairs, muttering to himself, after his

fashion when vexed and disconcerted.

At the foot of the stairs he overtook Grace Jones with her hat and coat

on. She looked up at him with her ready, pleased smile.

"Good-night, doctor. I'm so glad you found Miss Vivian disengaged."

"Conceited monkey--" began Dr. Prince, almost automatically, then

hastily recollected himself and said: "Yes, yes. Are you off duty now?"

"Just. I've got to go down to the station and see about a case of

anti-tetanic serum for one of the hospitals, which is due by the 7.50

train, but I can take it up there to-morrow. You know how precious it

is, and we daren't trust the orderlies with it since Coles had that

smash."

"To be sure. Well, I'll drive you down in my car to get it, if you like,

and then I can take it up to the Hospital. I've got to go there again

tonight."

"Oh, thank you."

The doctor liked the pleased gratitude in Grace's voice.

"I want so much to know how Sir Piers Vivian is," she said presently.

The doctor shook his head.

"A question of time, you know, when there's been a stroke--at that age.

He doesn't rally very much, either. And the brain, Miss Jones, is

clouded. We can't deny that it's clouded."

"Oh, poor Lady Vivian!"

"She knows it as well as I do. Doesn't let on, you know, but she's never

been deluded from the first. And there she is all day, in the room, you

know, except just when he's sleeping, reading to him, and talking quite

cheerfully and trying to get him to take a pleasure in some little thing

or other. I've never seen her break down, and we doctors see that sort

of thing when other people don't sometimes. But she's been under a

strain for a long while now--oh, before he got ill--and yet she carries

on somehow. Ah, breeding is a wonderful thing, Miss Jones. There have

been Vivians at Plessing for more generations than I can count, and

_she_ was a Trevellyan. They're from these parts, too, though it's a

West Country name. I may be an old snob, Miss Jones, but I was brought

up to reverence those whom God Almighty had set in high places, and the

Vivians of Plessing have always stood to me for the highest in the land.

A pity there isn't a son there!"

"Yes."

"There are cousins, of course. Sir Piers has a brother with children.

But one would have liked the direct line--and for _her_ to leave

Plessing, it seems hard. If there'd only been a boy!"

"He would be fighting now," Grace reminded him.

"To be sure, and so many only sons have gone. If Miss Charmian there had

been a boy, though! I tell you frankly," said the doctor, in an

outburst, "that I don't understand her. She and I have had ructions in

our time, Miss Jones, and I've known her ever since she came into the

world. And now, when it comes to a Hospital Return--!"

The doctor nearly swerved his car into a market wagon, apologized to

Grace, and said candidly: "I really hardly know what I'm at when I get

on to the subject. Army Form 01864A in duplicate indeed! And as for the

Nomenclature of Diseases that we hear so much about nowadays, I rather

fancy that I was at home there some twenty years before Miss Charmian's

little typewritten pamphlets on the subject were issued. Telling me that

conjunctivitis is a disease of the eye, and what V.D.H. stands for! War

Office instructions, indeed!"

Grace laughed discreetly, and after an instant the doctor laughed too.

"Well, well, well, we're all working in a great cause," he conceded,

"and I suppose she does wonders. They all tell me so. Perhaps it seems a

little hard to those of us who've been trying to conquer pain and

disease for a number of years to be put under military discipline by an

impudent monk--H'm, h'm, h'm! by a young lady in a uniform striped with

gold like a zebra! But she's certainly untiring in her work; so are you

all. This must be quite a new style of thing to you, Miss Jones?"

"I was in a hospital for a little while at the beginning of the war, but

I can only do clerical work."

"But nothing before the war, eh?"

"Oh, no. I just helped my father at home."

"I thought so," said the doctor, with an odd sound of unmistakable

satisfaction in his voice. He was glad that this nice little girl who

listened with such interest while he talked, and so evidently admired

Sir Piers and Lady Vivian of Plessing, should have lived at home before

the war and not gone dashing out in search of an independent livelihood.

"Lady Vivian asks after you very often," he told her. "You saw her every

day for a time, didn't you?"

"Yes, while Miss Vivian was at Plessing. I should like to see her again.

Will you give her my love?" said Grace.

"Yes, indeed I will. She's lonely out there, I often think, though young

Trevellyan comes out when he can. Nice boy that, but they'll be sending

him out again directly, I suppose. Now, then, Miss Jones, here's the

station."

Grace despatched her business at the parcels office as quickly as

possible, and came back with the neat wooden case carefully labelled all

over.

"Put it there; it'll be quite safe. I wish I could take you back to

Pollard Street, but they're expecting me at the Hospital and I must get

on. Shall you be all right?"

"Oh, yes, and thank you so much. The walk will warm me, and it isn't

far. Good-night, doctor."

"Good-night," responded the doctor cordially as the car started down the

hill towards the Hospital.

He wondered whether Char would accept his offer to drive her out to

Plessing on Christmas Eve, and reflected rather ruefully that, if so, it

would certainly be a late and cold transit. But, at all events, his

mission would have succeeded.

He triumphantly told Lady Vivian next day that Char was coming to

Plessing on Christmas Eve.

"I put the case diplomatically, you know--just used a little tact, and

she never made any difficulty at all. Delighted to come, if you ask me,"

said the doctor.

"Thank you so much, Dr. Prince. I've told Sir Piers that she's coming,

and he's so pleased. Don't let her start too late; it's so bitterly cold

and the roads are very bad. I can't send the car in for her, as you

know; since the chauffeur was called up, I've no one to drive it. But if

you're kind enough to bring her--"

"I'll bring her fast enough, if she'll let me," said the doctor.

"Anyhow, she shall come, which is the point. She said at once that she'd

come."

"Yes," said Joanna dryly. "You won't expect me to be enthusiastic at

such condescension, will you?"

The doctor looked at her with concern evident in his shrewd, kindly

gaze.

He had known Joanna Vivian ever since she had come to Plessing as a

bride, and had never heard that note of bitterness in her voice before.

He told himself sadly that the long strain of Sir Piers's illness was

telling on her at last, in spite of her splendid physique. In his heart

the doctor did not believe that the strain would last much longer.

"I wish you had some one here to keep you company," he said awkwardly.

"Even Miss Bruce was better than no one."

"She's only with Char for a few days. She'll soon be back, probably

tomorrow. And meanwhile I had an offer of companionship only this

morning. Do you know Mrs. Willoughby?"

"Good Lord, yes!" said the doctor, and they both laughed.

"I should _really_ like Char's Miss Jones to come out to me for a few

days," said Joanna, rather wistfully. "She and I understand one another

very well, and she's such a restful person."

"A thoroughly nice girl, and most intelligent," warmly remarked the

doctor, reflecting how sympathetic Miss Jones had shown herself to be

over the question of Medical Boards. "Why shouldn't I bring her out with

Miss Charmian on Thursday night?"

"I only wish you would, but I don't want to throw Char into a fit."

"I'll chance that," said the doctor grimly. "She'd only tell me that

fits are a disease of the nervous system, and should be shown as N.S. on

all Hospital returns."

He told himself that if Lady Vivian wanted to see Miss Jones it was

preposterous that she should not be allowed to have her out to Plessing.

Diplomacy, the doctor reflected, could arrange the whole thing.

Believing himself to be the possessor of this attribute, Dr. Prince, on

the morning before Christmas Eve, rang up the office of the Midland

Supply Depôt on the telephone.

"Can I speak to Miss Vivian, if you please?"

"Who is it?" inquired an attenuated voice at the other end.

"The Officer Commanding Questerham V.A. Hospital," firmly replied the

doctor.

If Miss Vivian wanted officialness, she should have it.

"Can I give a message for you?"

"I'm afraid I must speak to Miss Vivian herself."

"One moment, please."

The doctor waited, and presently the voice said: "I've put you through

to Miss Vivian."

"Hallo!" exclaimed a weary tone. "Miss Vivian speaking."

"Good-evening," said the doctor briskly. "What time am I to call for you

tomorrow afternoon?"

"Oh, is that you, Dr. Prince? But you really mustn't trouble to call for

me; I can hire something."

"Not on Christmas Eve."

"Perhaps not. Well, let me see. Unless anything unforeseen occurs I

think I could get away by eight."

"That will do splendidly," ruefully said the doctor, aware of

sacrificing truth to diplomacy. "I suppose your office work will go on

without you just the same?"

There was a pause, which the doctor interpreted as an astounded one.

"The office will treat Christmas Day as a Sunday. It will probably be

necessary for me to come in during the afternoon, as I do on Sundays,

but only for a few hours."

The doctor gathered himself together for a Machiavellian effort.

"Why not leave that very intelligent little secretary of yours, Miss

Jones, to take your place?"

"A junior clerk? Out of the question. But I needn't trouble you with

those details, of course. As a matter of fact, no one will be here on

Christmas Day except the telephone clerk."

"I strongly advise you to leave Miss Jones in charge, if I may be

permitted to suggest it."

"Miss Jones," said Char, very distinctly, "has none of the experience

necessary for a position of responsibility, and I should not dream of

entrusting her with one. She will have nothing whatever to do with the

office during my absence."

The triumph of diplomacy was complete.

"In that case," said the doctor in a great hurry, "your mother need have

no scruple as to inviting her out to Plessing for Christmas. I know she

wants to--in fact, I'm charged with the invitation--but it seemed

incredible that you should be able to spare her from her work. But I

mustn't keep you. Good-night, Miss Vivian. At eight tomorrow I'll come

for you both. Good-bye."

The triumphant doctor put back the receiver.

"Hoist with her own petard!" he muttered to himself in great

satisfaction.

That afternoon he found time to call on Miss Bruce, on the verge of

departure from Char's lodgings, and triumphantly charged her with a

message for Lady Vivian.

"Tell her that I've arranged the whole thing, and Miss Jones is coming

out tomorrow evening in the car to spend Christmas."

"At Plessing? But why?" asked the astonished Miss Bruce.

"Because Lady Vivian wants her," said the doctor stoutly. "She's taken a

fancy to her, and I'm sure I don't wonder. A charming girl!"

"I had an idea that Miss Vivian never thought her very efficient,"

doubtfully remarked Miss Bruce.

"There are a great many people whom she doesn't think efficient,

although they've been at their job more years than she's been out of

long clothes; but in this case it serves our turn very well. She'll be

out of that confounded office for a couple of days."

"Does Miss Vivian know this?"

"Dear me, yes," said the doctor glibly. "I talked it all over with her

on the telephone this morning. That's quite all right. Now, Miss Bruce,

supposing you let me give you a lift to the station? It's going to snow

again."

Miss Bruce accepted gratefully, and the doctor felt slightly ashamed of

his own strategy for avoiding any possible conversation between her and

Char on the subject of Miss Jones's visit to Plessing.

Diplomacy was not an easy career.

Nothing now remained, however, but to tell Miss Jones of her invitation

and to insure her acceptance of it.

The indefatigable doctor stopped his car at the door of the Hostel soon

after half-past seven that evening.

"Would Miss Jones be good enough to speak to me for a moment?" he

inquired, when Mrs. Bullivant came to the door.

"I'm sorry, but I think she's out. Some of the girls have gone to the

theatre tonight. Is it a message from Miss Vivian?" the Superintendent

asked anxiously.

"Not exactly," was the evasion exacted by diplomacy.

"Shall I give her any message when she gets back?"

"Yes, yes; that might be best," eagerly said the doctor, conscious of

cowardice. "Would you tell her that Lady Vivian--and--and Miss

Vivian--are both expecting her at Plessing tomorrow evening, to spend a

couple of days? Lady Vivian particularly wants to see her again, and it

will be good for her to have some one to cheer her up. Tell Miss Jones

that it's all been arranged, and I'll call for her at the office

tomorrow evening at eight o'clock and drive her out. I've got to go out

there in any case, and the last train goes at four, so they must go by

road."

"Well, I'm sure that will be delightful for her!" exclaimed the

unsuspecting Mrs. Bullivant. "How very kind of Miss Vivian!"

"Yes. It's Lady Vivian, of course, who really suggested the idea, one

day when I happened to mention Miss Jones. She likes her very much, and,

of course, it's lonely for her now. I'm glad this should have been

thought of," said the doctor, with a great effect of detachment. "Well,

I mustn't keep you at the door in this cold. It's freezing tonight

again, unless I'm much mistaken. Good-night."

"Good-night, doctor. I won't forget the message. I'm delighted that

Gracie should have such a treat."

The doctor, as he drove away, was delighted too, with himself and with

the success of his manoeuvres. He thought that Lady Vivian would be very

glad to see the girl for whom she evidently felt such a sense of

comradeship, and he, like Mrs. Bullivant, was glad of the pleasure for

Grace; but, most of all, the doctor felt a guilty satisfaction in the

knowledge of having successfully outwitted the Director of the Midland

Supply Depôt.