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

came a cheerful response.

'Hurray!' yelled Willie, and rose stiffly to his feet.

Then with a final effort, he gave Macgregor the 'fireman's lift,' and staggered and stumbled, amid shots from the other side, into safety.


XXII


NO HERO, YET HAPPY

Christina was arranging the counter for the day's business when the postman brought her a letter in a green envelope with the imprint 'On Active Service'. Her heart leapt only to falter as her eyes took in the unfamiliar writing. Then under the 'Certificate' on the left-hand side she perceived the signature--'W. Thomson.' Something dreadful must have happened! She sat down and gazed at the envelope, fingering it stupidly. At last she pulled herself together and opened it. The letter was dirty, ill-written, badly spelt; but so are many of the finest-spirited letters of these days.

'If you are wanting a perfeck man, by yourself a statute from the muesum. Then you can treat him cold and he will not nottice other girls when you leav him for to enjoy yourself. Mac was not for haveing army when he first seen Maggie, but he was vext at you, and I eggged him on with telling him he was feared, and he took her in a cab becaus it was poring, and maybe he gave her a bit sqeese, I do not no for certin, but it is more like she began it, for Maggie woud rather take a cuddel nor a good dinner anny day. Likewize there is times when a chap must sqeese something. It is no dash use for a girl to expeck her intended to keep looking at her when she is not there, unless she makes it worth his while with nice letters and so fourth. He gets soon fed up on cold nothings. Mac does not care a roten aple for Maggie, but you left him nothing better, and she is a nice girl and soft with a man, so God forgive you as I will not till I hear you are reddy to kiss him again. Mac is wounded in 2 places, but not mortle. He got wounded saveing my life. I am not wounded yet. He garded my back, which saved me. Probly you will see him soon, so prepare to behave yourself. Remmember you alowed me to kiss you??? Hopping you will take this good advice more kindly nor usual.

Yours resp.
W. THOMSON,
Lce. Corp. 9th H.L.I.

P.S.--If you was less proud and more cuddelsom, you woud not loss much fun in this world.--W. T., Lce. Corp. 9th H.L.I.

* * * * *


Macgregor was in a small hospital not far from London. While not to be described as serious, his wounds were likely to keep him out of action for several months to come. He was comfortable, and the people were very kind. Their English speech puzzled him almost as much as his Scotch amused them.

More tired than pained, he lay idly watching the play of light on his old-fashioned ring, the gift of Mrs. McOstrich. It had reached him just before he was borne from France, too late, he thought, to bring him luck. But the only luck he wanted now was Christina. He had her brief note by heart. There was kindness but no comfort in the words; forgiveness, maybe, but no promise of reconciliation. Truly he had made a horrid mess of it; nevertheless he rebelled against taking all the blame. Christina could not have cared much when she would listen to no explanations. . . . Now he had a great longing for the touch of his mother and the smile of his father, the soft speech of Jeannie and the eager pipings of wee Jimsie. Also, he wondered, with a sort of ache, how Willie was faring.

A nurse appeared, sorted his pillow, chatted for a moment, then went and drew down the blinds against the afternoon sun. And presently Macgregor dropped into a doze.

He awoke to what seemed a dream. Of all people, Aunt Purdie was seated at his bedside.

In a hesitating way, quite unlike her, she put out her hand, laid it on his and patted gently.

'What's up?' he exclaimed in astonishment.

'How do you do, Macgregor?' she said formally yet timidly.

'Fine, thenk ye,' he answered from sheer force of habit. Then--'Ye've come a lang road to see me,' he said, gratitude asserting itself.

'It _is_ a conseederable distance,' she returned, with some recovery of her old manner. 'Your uncle said I must go the moment he heard where you were, and I quite homologated him. We was all copiously relieved to hear of the non-seriosity of your wounds. I have letters for you from your parents and sister, forbye your brother James. Your mother was anxious to come, too, but decided to wait for my report, your condeetion not being grave. All well at home and proud of you, but I was en rout before I heard the most gratifying news.' She cleared her throat with an important cough, and Macgregor hoped none of the other chaps in the ward were listening. 'I am exceedingly proud of you, Macgregor!'

'Me? What for?'

'Ah, do not distimulate, my boy; do not be too modest. You have saved a comrade's life! It was magneeficent!'

'Eh?'

'Oh, I know all about it--how you protected your friend William with your wounded body----'

Macgregor's hand went to his head. 'I suppose I'm sober,' he muttered. 'Wha was stuffin' ye wi' a' this, Aunt Purdie?'

Aunt Purdie's manner was almost sprightly as she whispered--

'Your betrothed!'

'Ma what?'

'Christina, her own self, told me. So there you are, young man!'

Macgregor's head wagged feebly on the pillow. 'There's a bonny mix-up somewhaur,' he said; 'it was Wullie saved ma life.' Then, with an effort--'When did ye see her?'

'Now understand, Macgregor, there must be no excitement. You must keep calm. I am doing my best to break it gently. H'm, h'm! As a matter of fac', I seen--saw--your fiancy about ten minutes ago.' She is without!'

'Wi'oot what?'

'She is in an adjacent apartment.'

'Here?'

'I am going to despatch her to you now,' said Aunt Purdie, enjoying herself thoroughly. 'But mind!--no deleterious excitement!' She rose with a look on her gaunt face which he had never seen before.

'Aunt Purdie,' he whispered, 'did she want to come?'

'My dear nephew, without exaggeration I may say that she fairly jamp--jumped--at my invitation I Well, I'll see you subsequently.'

'God bless ye,' he murmured, and closed his eyes till he felt she had gone from the ward.

He knew when Christina came in, but did not look directly at her till she was beside him. By that time she had controlled the quiver at her mouth. And when he looked he realized that he had no defence whatsoever in the Maggie affair. Nothing was left him but love and regret.

She touched his hand and seated herself. 'I couldna help comin',' she said, smiling. 'Are ye feelin' better?'

'Oh, ay. But I maun tell ye the truth.'

'No a word, Mac, noo or ever. I'll no listen.'

'But it's a' nonsense aboot me savin' a comrade. Wullie Thomson saved me. I canna think hoo ye heard sic a story, but it's got to be stopped. An' though I'm terrible gled to see yer face again, I'm vexed ye cam' a' that lang road thinkin' I was a hero. Still, there's a chap in the next bed that's gaun to get a medal for----'

'We'll talk aboot it later,' she interrupted gently. 'But I'll jist tell ye that a' I took the journey for was to see a lad that was wounded. An' I think'--a faint laugh--'I've got a wound o' ma ain.'

He sighed, his eyes on his ring. 'Ye had aye a kind heart, Christina. I'm obleeged to ye for comin'. . . I wud like to tell ye something--no as an excuse, for it wud be nae excuse, but jist to get quit o' the thing--aboot the time when ye was in Aberdeen----'

'Oh, never!'

'Jist that. Weel, I'll no bother ye,' he said, with hopeless resignation. Next moment he was ashamed of himself. He must change the subject. He actually smiled. 'Hoo did ye leave Miss Tod? Still drinkin'?'

Christina may not have heard him. She was surveying the ward. Macgregor's only near neighbour was apparently sound asleep, and the only patient sitting up was intent on a game of draughts with a nurse. But had all been awake and watching, she would still have found a way.

She passed her handkerchief lightly across her eyes and put it in her sleeve. Then with the least possible movement she knelt down by the bedside.

'Christina!' he exclaimed under his breath, for her face was near to his.

Her fingers went to the neck of her white blouse and drew out a narrow black ribbon. From it hung, shining, the tiny wreckage of her engagement ring.

'Mac, dear,' she whispered, 'can--can we no ha'e it mended?'

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Publication Date: 08-16-2010

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