_A Month Later_
Dick Thornton had taken lodgings in an old house in Brussels in a once
fashionable quarter of the city. He had a big reception room and a small
room adjoining. Recently Nona and Mildred had been coming in to have tea
with him on their afternoons of leisure. They even dropped in
occasionally in their daily walks. For in order to keep their health and
spirits each Red Cross nurse, following the familiar rule, was given two
hours off duty every afternoon.
But Barbara Meade had never seen the quarters where Dick lived. Always
she had pleaded some kind of an excuse in answer to his invitations,
until finally he had proffered them no more. Then for the past month she
had been taking Eugenia's place in her house in the woods.
But this afternoon Barbara had made an appointment to meet Nona and
Mildred at Dick's at four o'clock.
Half an hour before the time, Dick came into the house with his arms
full of flowers which he had purchased from a little old woman at the
corner. She had become a great friend of his, for the flower business
was a poor one in a city where people had no money even for food. So
today Dick had purchased bunches of wall flowers and others of columbine
and larkspur. For the flowers grew in the old woman's own garden within
a sheltered suburb of Brussels. She must have grown them and sold them
in order that she might still continue to sit in the same place. For so
far as one could know she had no other reason for her industry. She
appeared to be entirely alone and friendless.
Dick's sitting room was enormous, yet almost empty. The house had been
deserted by its owners early in the war. They had then removed most of
their belongings to London for safe keeping, soon after hostilities
broke out.
But Dick opened wide a pair of French windows until the atmosphere of
the room had grown cool and sweet. He then arranged his own flowers and
set out his own tea table in a somewhat clumsy fashion, drawing four
chairs conveniently near. They were the only four chairs in the room and
very different in character. Two of them were enormous armchairs
upholstered in Brussels tapestry, the other were two small wooden ones
which had probably served for the servant's dining room.
But Dick was fairly well satisfied with the appearance of things, since
empty grandeur is much more satisfying than tawdry quantity.
Afterwards Dick disappeared to make an afternoon toilet.
It had been such ages since he had worn anything but the most workaday
clothes. Now and then when he came in tired at night and discouraged
with life from the sight of so much unnecessary sorrow, he used to slip
into a smoking jacket for an hour or so. Usually several American
fellows dropped in later, young doctors or other men assisting with the
Belgian relief work.
But today Dick felt the occasion to be a more important one.
Barbara was coming on an errand of grave importance. Yet one might as
well meet the situation as cheerfully as possible. Nothing was ever to
be gained by unnecessary gloom.
It still remained a task for Dick to dress himself with one of his arms
almost useless. At first it had been impossible and he had employed a
man to help him. But men were needed for more strenuous labors these
days than being another fellow's valet. So he had come to taking care of
himself in a somewhat awkward fashion. The collar was his supreme
difficulty, just as it frequently is with a man with two perfectly good
arms.
Today, of course, because Dick was in a hurry, his collar behaved in a
worse manner than usual. The collar button had to be searched for under
the bed for nearly five minutes, and then it did not seem to fit the
button-hole of the shirt.
Finally Dick sat down and began to smoke in an effort to soothe his
nerves. Mildred had promised to come along ahead of time to do whatever
was needed. As there was nothing more, except to adjust his tiresome
neckwear, he might as well wait in peace.
But in the meantime Dick read over the note from Barbara in which she
asked that the four of them might meet at his apartment. It was the one
place where it was possible that their conversation be absolutely
private. And what they had to discuss was a matter for gravest secrecy.
Although Dick had previously arranged his hair with much care, while
reading the note he thrust his hand through it until his locks rose in
brown, Byronic confusion.
So when the first knock came at his sitting room door, convinced of his
sister's arrival, Dick strode to it, dangling his collar in his hand.
His appearance was not strictly conventional.
The girl at the door looked a little startled, then smiled and walked
into the room without invitation.
"I suppose I am first. I didn't mean to be," she explained. "But Dr.
Mason came out to see one of the children and brought me back to town in
the hospital motor car. So I got here sooner than I expected."
"I am sorry. I thought you were Mildred. I mean, I hoped you were
Mildred." Dick laughed. "Sounds polite, doesn't it, what I am trying to
say? But the fact is, if you'll just take off your hat or your wrap, or
your gloves, why, I'll disappear for half a minute and come back with a
collar on."
Barbara nodded and her reluctant host disappeared.
She was glad of a few moments to look around. It was almost homelike
here in Dick's quarters, and not since leaving the little "Farmhouse
with the Blue Front Door" had she enjoyed the sensation of home.
She certainly did not enjoy it at Eugenia's big house, although she was
now in full charge of the establishment. For there was always the sense
of Eugenia's loss and of the privations which she was enduring.
Barbara did throw her hat to one side and her coat and gloves. The
freedom was pleasanter. Then, since small persons have a penchant for
large chairs and large persons for small ones, Barbara seated herself in
the most imposing chair in the room.
Not thinking of where she was, nor of what she was doing, she slipped
one small foot under her, leaned her head against the upholstery and
gazed critically around.
They were going to have tea and she was glad of it. Then she loved the
presence of so many simple outdoor flowers. Probably they had been
purchased for Nona's delectation, yet one could enjoy them just the
same.
Besides, Barbara was by this time convinced that she had entirely
recovered from any jealousy where Nona and Dick were concerned. She had
seen them very seldom in the past month. But this was not because she
had any more feeling in regard to the situation. It was merely because
she had more important matters to engage her attention. Her talk with
Eugenia seemed to have cleared the emotional situation so far as she was
concerned. Now her interest in Dick and Nona was purely impersonal and
friendly.
Yet Barbara got up and strolled over to the tall French mantel. Yes,
there was a picture of Nona on it. She had not been mistaken. Certainly
Nona took an extremely pretty picture. Her features were so regular and
delicate. It was rather different if one chanced to be afflicted with a
retroussé nose.
Still studying Nona's photograph, Barbara heard a slight noise behind
her.
There was Dick with his collar yet dangling from his hand.
"I say, which would you prefer, to talk to a man without a collar or to
help him put one on? I am not going to lose all the chance I may have
for seeing you in struggling with this dog-taked thing."
The girl looked demure. Then she indicated that Dick might seat himself
upon the lowest stool. The next moment he was entirely ship-shape, as
Barbara had also assisted in adjusting a new dark-red tie. It was of a
flowing character, because Dick wore the same black velvet coat in which
he had appeared before Barbara in New York City some eighteen months
before. The coat was therefore not new. But Dick may have had a
suspicion that it was becoming, although men are not supposed to be
interested in any such trivial concerns.
However, Barbara was aware of the becomingness and was sincerely glad to
discover how well her former friend looked. Certainly he had taken his
share of the war's misfortunes in a courageous spirit. Once she had not
believed him capable of any ideal save a social one.
Barbara had returned to her tall chair and Dick sat across from her on
one of the wooden ones. The tea service stood between them, but of
course they were waiting for the coming of the other two girls.
Although she had wished for her tea, Barbara did not feel impatient over
the delay at present. She was trying to make up her mind whether it
would be wise to tell Dick how glad she was of his cheerfulness before
she began to speak of her own mission. For then there would be little
opportunity for cheerfulness unless one of the others had better news to
report than she had.
So instead of beginning a conversation Barbara sat in entire quiet,
although gazing at her companion in an extremely friendly fashion.
In the pause Dick Thornton suddenly thrust out his right hand and placed
it lightly over Barbara's hand, which chanced to be carelessly lying on
the table.
"I have something I'd like to tell you, Barbara, before Nona and Mildred
get here," he began. "It is a secret so far and perhaps I have no right
to be so happy until things are settled. But I've every right----"
The moment had come! The news that Dick had to tell her she had been
expecting. Yet she had believed the announcement would first be made by
Nona. It was kind of Dick to remember their former friendliness and to
wish her to share his happiness so soon.
But at this instant Mildred and Nona, without waiting to knock, opened
the sitting room door and Dick's confession was never made.