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

was gey hard lines.'

Christina stared.

'I got leave yesterday mornin' an' catched the first train to Aberdeen----'

'Oh! . . . What on earth took you to Aberdeen?'

'Christina,' he exclaimed, 'dinna speak like that! I gaed to Aberdeen because I couldna thole it ony mair.'

'Thole what?'

'Oh, ye ken! . . . Maybe I had nae business to be vexed at ye for gaun wi' Aunt Purdie, but oh, Christina dear, I wisht ye hadna gaed.'

He dropped his gaze and continued: 'I'm tellin' ye I gaed to Aberdeen because something seemed to ha'e come betwixt us, because I----' He stuck. Confession in the face of stem virtue is not so easy, after all.

'Pity you had the long journey,' she said airily, 'but you ought to have stopped for a day or two when you were there. Aberdeen is a delightful city.' She turned and surveyed the shelves above her.

His look then would have melted the heart of any girl, except this one who loved him.

'Christina,' he said piteously, 'it wasna a' ma fau't.'

Leisurely she faced him.

'May I ask what you are referring to?'

'Ye never said ye was sorry to leave me; yer letters wasna like ye, an' I didna ken what to think. An' then the cocoa-nut fairly put the lid on. I tell ye, a chap has to dae _something_ when a girl treats him like that.'

'Has he?'

He winced. 'But I forgive ye----'

'Thanks!'

'--because I'm gaun to tell ye a' aboot it, Christina, an' ask ye kindly to forgive me. Ay, I'm gaun to tell ye everything--everything! But I canna think,' he blundered on, 'I'm sayin', I canna think hoo I happened to get yer monkey up to begin wi'----'

'Excuse me!' she cried, indignant. 'My monkey up, indeed!'

'Weel, maybe it wasna exac'ly yer monkey up; but I want to ken what way ye didna write a nicer letter afore ye gaed awa'. Nae doobt ye was in a hurry, but it jist seemed as if ye didna care a button for me. Maybe ma letter to you wasna the thing, either, but I was that hurt when I wrote it, an' ye might ha'e understood hoo I was feelin'. Christina, tell me what was wrang that ye gaed awa' like yon. Was ye--was ye fed up wi' me?'

Christina took up a pencil and began to spoil it with a patent sharpener. 'Really, it is not worth while discussing,' she said.

'What? No worth while? Oh, hoo can ye say a thing like that! . . . But maybe I best tell ye ma ain story first.'

'Many thanks. But I'm afraid I'm not deeply interested in any story of yours.' She was almost sorry the next moment. It was just as if she had struck him.

Presently he recovered a little. 'Christina,' he said quietly, 'that's no true.'

'Hoo daur ye!' she cried, forgetting her 'fine English' as well as her haughty pose.

'If it was true, it wud mean that ye've been judgin' me unfair, kennin' it was unfair, an' I'll never believe ye wud dae that. . . . So, Christina dear, listen to me an' gi'e me a chance.'

'Oh, what's the use,' she sighed with sudden weariness, 'what's the use o' pretendin', Macgreegor?'

'Wha's pretendin'?'

'You! What's the use o' pretendin' ye're hurt? Fine ye ken I'm no the--the only girl in the world.'

'There's no anither like ye!'

'Weel,' she said drily, 'that means variety, does it no?' She drew a long breath and moved back from the counter. 'I want to be as fair as I can, so perhaps I'd best ask ye a straight question.'

'Ask it!' he said eagerly.

'Wha's Maggie?'

He was taken aback, but less so than she had expected, and possibly that increased her bitterness.

'She's a girl,' he began.

'I could ha'e guessed that much. What sort o' girl?' she demanded, and wished she had held her tongue.

'She--she's kin' o' fat----'

'Fat!' Christina uttered the word with as much disgust as she would have evinced had she been handed a pound of streaky bacon without the paper. 'How delightful! Anything else in the way of charms?'

'Christina, gi'e me a chance, an' I'll tell ye a' aboot it.'

'Not another word! How long have you enjoyed the young lady's acquaintance?'

'Only a couple o' evenin's, but----'

'Case of love at first sight, I suppose!'

He flared up. 'If ye hadna left me I wud never ha'e met her. If ye had wrote me a dacent letter----'

'Whisht, man!' she said in momentary pity. 'Ye're talkin' like a wean.'

'I canna help it. I'm that fond o' ye. An' it's no as if I had done a black crime. It was a pure accident----'

'Jist like a penny novel,' she interrupted merciless again. 'Weel, I'm sure ye're welcome to ha'e as mony girls as ye like--only, ye'll ha'e to leave me oot. That's a'!' She took out her purse and from it something small which, stepping forward, she laid on the counter near him. Her engagement ring!

After a moment of strained silence--'Christina!' he gasped; 'Christina! ye canna mean it serious!'

'Good-bye,' she said stiffly, stepping back.

'But--but ye ha'ena heard ma story. It's no fair----'

'Oh,' she cried harshly, 'dinna keep on at that tune!'

All at once he drew himself up. 'Noo I see what ye mean,' he said in an almost even voice. 'Ye had made up yer mind to be quit o' me. Still, it wud ha'e been honester to say ye was fed up to ma face. Weel, I'm no blamin' ye, an' I canna force ye to listen to ma story, no that it wud be worth ma while noo to shame masel' wi' the tellin'. I'll no even ask ye hoo ye cam' to hear aboot Maggie. Maggie's jist an or'nar' girl, an' I'm jist an or'nar' chap that done a stupid thing because he couldna think what else to dae. Weel, ye'll sune forget me, an' maybe I'll sune forget you--wi' the help o' a bullet----'

'Oh, dinna!' she whispered.

'An' as for this'--he picked up the ring and let it drop on the floor--'to hell wi' sich nonsense!'--and ground it under his heel. 'So long!' he said, and went out quickly.


XX


THE REAL THING AT LAST

For an appreciable number of seconds after the door had closed Christina continued to gaze in its direction, her head well up, her face stern and rather pale. Then, quite suddenly, her bosom gave a quick heave, her lips parted, trembling, her eyes blinked, her whole attitude became lax. But she was not going to cry; certainly not! She was far too angry for tears; angry with herself no less than Macgregor. He had actually departed without being dismissed; worse still, he had had the last word! An observer--the thought struck her--would have assumed that she, weak wretch, had humbly allowed him to go and leave her in the wrong! Her maiden pride had somehow failed her, for she ought to have sent him forth crushed. And yet, surely, she had hurt, punished, humiliated him. Oh, no doubt of that! And for a moment her illogical heart wavered. She drew out her hanky, muttering 'how I hate him!'--and blew her pretty nose. Then she clenched her hands and set her teeth. Then she went lax again. Then--oh, dear! he had even insulted her by leaving her to pick up the cast-off ring!--for, of course, she could not leave it there for Miss Tod or a customer to see.

Haughtily she moved round the counter and with scornful finger-tips took up the tiny wreckage of a great hope. The gold was twisted and bruised, the little pearls were loose in their places. All at once she felt a horrid pain in her throat. . . .

Miss Tod appeared, fresh from the joys of strong tea.

'Oh, lassie, ha'e ye hurted yersel'?'

Christina choked, recovered herself and cried: 'I've sold a blighter a sixpenny notebook for threepence, an' I'll never get over it as long as I live. B--but I hope that'll no be long!'

Just then Heaven sent a customer.

* * * * *


And perhaps Heaven sent the telegram that Macgregor found on his return home, rather late in the afternoon. The war has changed many things and people, but mothers most of all. Mrs. Robinson made no mention of the 'extra special' dinner prepared so vainly in her son's honour. 'Yer fayther missed ye,' was her only reference to his absence from the meal.

The telegram was an order to return to duty. The mother and sister saw his eyes change, his shoulders stiffen.

'Maybe something's gaun to happen at last,' he said; and almost in the same breath, though in a different voice--'Christina's finished wi' me. It was ma ain fau't. Ye needna speak aboot it. I--I'm no heedin'--greatly.' He cleared his throat. 'I'll awa' up to the works an' say guid-bye to father. Jimsie can come, if he likes. Ye needna tell him the noo--what I tell't ye.'

Jimsie, summoned from play, was proud to go with his big brother. He was ill next day owing to a surfeit of good things consumed at high pressure, but not too ill to discuss what he would purchase with the half-crown that seemed to have stuck to his hot little paw.

Back from the works, Macgregor found tea awaiting him. His mother and sister were not a little relieved by his cheerfulness, though they were to doubt its sincerity later. But the boy had never made a greater effort for the sake of those who loved him than in that little piece of dissembling.

The parting was brief. An embrace, a kiss, a word or two that meant little yet all--and he was out of the home.

His laugh, slightly subdued, came up the well of the staircase--'Maybe it's anither false alarm!'

'They looked over the rail, mute but trying to smile, and saw the last of him--a hurrying sturdy, boyish figure, kilt swinging and hand aloft in final farewell.

His route took him through the street of Miss Tod's shop. It was characteristic of Macgregor that he did not choose another and less direct course. He neither hesitated nor looked aside as he marched past the shop. The sense of injustice still upheld him. 'She never gi'ed me a chance!' . . . And so back to Duty.

* * * * *


Not more than five minutes later Private William Thomson came along in hot haste and banged into the shop.

'Macgreegor no here?' he demanded, and looked astounded.