Wee Macgreegor Enlists by John Joy Bell (the little red hen ebook .txt) 📕

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'The change will be good for her. You must not be selfish. Your uncle was afraid you might be put out: that is why I came to explain. But apart from the beneficial change, Christina, as I observed to your uncle, ought to see the world while she is young.'

Macgregor answered nothing. Possibly he did not catch her latter remarks. Christina going away for a fortnight, and he might be ordered abroad at any moment!

'Come,' said his aunt, kindly enough, 'don't be huffy.'

Mercifully, just then an officer passed. In the action of saluting Macgregor regained self-control.

'I hope ye get guid weather at Aberdeen,' he managed to say, and his aunt admired him even more than at the hour of his enlistment.

'Yer uncle an' me jist wishes ye was free to jine us,' she said with unwonted warmth and homeliness of accent. Her hand went to the fastening of her purse, and hesitated. No! Something told her this was not the moment for a gift, however splendid.

'Well, I must be going,' she remarked, stiffening again. 'Kindly conduct me to the exit. I thought there would have been more to inspire the mind in this place. . . . Good-bye. We will take good care of Christina.'

* * * * *


Never in his life had Macgregor been so deeply hurt and angered--not even in the old days by Aunt Purdie, who was not now the object of his resentment.

Willie, who always tried to make the best of things, insults not excepted, approached presently with a hopeful appeal for a loan.

'Gang to blazes!' was the response.

Willie could scarce believe his ears. 'Macgreegor! did she no cough up onything?'

Macgregor walked on.

'An' she fancies hersel' for a ---- swell!' exclaimed Willie viciously.

'Anither word an' I'll knock the face aff ye!'

It was Willie's turn to feel resentment.

In the evening came a note from Christina, hurriedly written. She was terribly busy getting ready for the morning train. It was most kind of Mrs. Purdie. Her own uncle must have let drop to Mr. Purdie that a summer outing this year was not possible, and Mr. Purdie must have told Mrs. Purdie. . . . Of course, she, Christina, would never have dreamed of going away otherwise. But the time would soon pass, Mac, and she intended to enjoy it thoroughly. . . .

If only she had left out that last sentence! But what true lover has not been stabbed by something very like it in his time?


XV


THE FAT GIRL AGAIN

Macgregor dropped his reply to Christina's unsatisfactory note into the pillar-box and, half wishing he had destroyed it instead, rejoined the faithful Willie Thomson. He still looked so gloomy that Willie once more demanded to be told what the ---- was up with him. Receiving no response, Willie remarked:

'If ye tak' a face like that to yer girl, she'll be wantin' to play a tune on it.'

Macgregor held his peace. They had just arrived in Glasgow, but without a trace of the usual eagerness on his part.

'I believe,' said Willie, with an inspiration, 'her an' you ha'e cast oot.'

'Clay up! She's awa' her holidays.'

'Save us! Awa' her holidays!' cried Willie, uttering, unawares, his friend's bitterest thought--'an' we may get oor mairchin' orders ony meenute! Weel, weel, preserve me frae the female sect! I suppose ye'll be for gi'ein' yer ain folk a treat for a change.'

'They're a' at Rothesay, at Granpaw Purdie's,' Macgregor returned shortly, now half glad that he had let the letter go.

It was not a harsh letter, yet neither was it a humble one. In effect, it informed Christina that she was welcome to disport herself even though the writer lay dead in a trench. While intended to be freezing, it had been written in considerable heat, physical and mental.

'Then what are ye gaun to dae the nicht?' Willie pursued, his mind simmering with curiosity. Macgregor had been very queer since his aunt's visit of the previous afternoon, and the arrival of a letter, eagerly grabbed, had by no means mitigated the queerness. Willie was convinced that something had gone wrong between Macgregor and Christina. He would not be sorry to see the engagement broken. Macgregor would have more time and cash to spend on his friends. On the other hand, Christina was undoubtedly a 'clinker' in her way, and Willie could do with more hospitality like hers. Well, there was no saying what might happen if she were free and Macgregor attached to another girl. . . .

'What are ye gaun to dae the nicht, Macgreegor?' he repeated, rousing himself as well as his friend.

'Dear knows,' came the dreary answer. 'I think I'll awa' back to the camp.' Yet if he did not greatly desire Willie's company, he desired his own less.

'Cheer up for ony favour,' said Willie. 'If I could afford it, I wud stan' ye a feed.'

The hint was not taken, and they strolled on, aimlessly so far as Macgregor was concerned.

About six o'clock, and while they were passing a large drapery warehouse, Willie gave his friend a violent nudge and hoarsely whispered:

'Gor! See thon!'

'What?'

'Thon girl!'--pointing to a damsel in a dark skirt and pink blouse, who had just emerged from the warehouse.

'What aboot her?' said Macgregor impatiently,

'It's her--the fat yin--the girl I burst the twa bob on!'

'She's no that fat,' Macgregor remarked without interest. Then suddenly--'Here! What are ye efter?'

'Her! She's fat when ye're close to her. Come on! I'll introjuice ye.'

'Thenk ye! I'm no takin' ony.'

'Jist for fun. I want to see her face when she sees me again.'

'Weel, I'll no prevent ye. So long.' At that moment the girl was held up at a busy crossing.

'Hullo, Maggie!' said Willie pertly.

'I'm off,' said Macgregor--but his arm was gripped.

The girl turned. 'Hullo,' she said coolly; 'still livin'?' Catching sight of Macgregor, she giggled. It was not an unpleasing giggle. Lean girls cannot produce it.

'This is Private Macgreegor Robi'son,' said Willie, unabashed.

She smiled and held out her hand. After a moment she said to Willie: 'Are ye no gaun to tell him ma name, stupid?'

'I forget it, except the Maggie.'

'Aweel,' she said good-humouredly, 'Private Robi'son'll jist ha'e to content hissel' wi' that, though it's a terrible common name.' She did the giggle again.

The chance of crossing came, and they all moved over; on the crowded pavement it was impossible to proceed three abreast.

'Never mind me,' said Willie humorously.

'Wha's mindin' you?' she retorted.

'Gettin' hame?' said Macgregor with an effort at politeness, while fuming inwardly.

'Jist that. Awfu' warm weather, is't no? It was fair meltin' in the warehoose the day. I'm fair dished up.' She heaved a sigh, which was no more unpleasing than her giggle. 'It's killin' weather for you sojer lads,' she added kindly.

Macgregor experienced a wavelet of sympathy. 'Wud ye like a slider?' he asked abruptly.

'Ye're awfu' kind. I could dae wi' it fine.'

Presently the three were seated in an ice-cream saloon. The conversation was supplied mainly by the girl and Willie, and took the form of a wordy sparring match. Every time she scored a point the girl glanced at Macgregor. He became mildly amused by her repartee, and at last took a cautious look at her.

She was certainly stout, but not with a clumsy stoutness; in fact, her figure was rather attractive. She had dark brown hair, long lashed, soft, dark eyes, a provocative, mobile mouth, and a nice pinky-tan colouring. At the same time, she was too frankly forward and consistently impudent for Macgregor's taste; and he noticed that her hands were not pretty like Christina's.

She caught his eye, and he smiled back, but absently. He was wondering what Christina was doing and how she would take his letter in the morning. . . . He consulted his watch. A long, empty evening lay before him. How on earth was he to fill it? He wanted distraction, and already his companions' chaff was getting tiresome.

On the spur of the moment--'What aboot a pictur hoose?' he said.

'That's the cheese!' cried Willie.

But Maggie shook her head and sighed, and explained that her mother was expecting her home for tea, and sighed again.

'Ha'e yer tea wi' us,' said the hospitable Macgregor.

She glanced at him under lowered lashes, her colour rising. 'My! ye're awfu' kind,' she said softly. 'I wish to goodness I could.'

'Scoot hame an' tell yer mither, an' we'll wait for ye here,' said stage-manager William.

'I wudna trust _you_ . . . but I think I could trust _him_.'

'Oh, we'll wait sure enough,' Macgregor said indifferently.

'I'll risk it!' she cried, and straightway departed.

Willie grinned at his friend. 'What dae ye think o' fat Maggie?' he said.

'Naething,' answered Mac, and refused to be drawn into further conversation.

Within half an hour she was back, flushed and bright of eye. She had on a pink print, crisp and fresh, a flowery hat, gloves carefully mended, neat shoes and transparent stockings.

'By Jings, ye're dressed to kill at a thoosan' yairds!' Willie observed.

Ignoring him, she looked anxiously for the other's approval.

'D'ye like hot pies?' he inquired, rising and stretching himself.

An hour later, in the picture house a heartrending, soul thrilling melodrama was at its last gasp. The long suffering heroine was in the arms of the long misjudged, misfortune-ridden, but ever faithful hero.

'Oh, lovely!' murmured Maggie.

Macgregor said nothing, but his eyes were moist. He may, or may not, have been conscious of a plump, warm, thinly-clad shoulder close against his arm.

Hero and heroine vanished. The lights went up. Macgregor blew his nose, then looked past the fat girl to make a scoffing remark to Willie.

But Willie's seat was vacant.

* * * * *


Maggie laid her ungloved hand on the adjoining seat. 'It's warm,' she informed Macgregor. 'He canna be lang awa'.'

'Did he no say he was comin' back?' Macgregor asked rather irritably.

'He never said a word to me. I didna notice him gang: I was that ta'en up wi' the picturs. But never heed,' she went on cheerfully; 'it's a guid riddance o' bad rubbish. I wonder what's next on the prog----

'But this'll no dae! He--he's your frien'.'

'Him! Excuse me for seemin' to smile. I can tell ye I was surprised to see a dacent-like chap like you sae chummy