A Soldier's Trial: An Episode of the Canteen CrusadeKing, Charles
General
A Soldier's Trial: An Episode of the Canteen Crusade
King, Charles
United States. Army -- Military life -- Fiction
marched into her field of vision, and the veteran of the Civil War and
the subaltern of a few skirmishes stood a moment in conference, then
strode away together toward the townward gate and the "auxiliary"
guard-house, the orderly following after.
And then she heard her aunt's voice at her door.
"Have you seen anything of Jimmy this morning, 'Cilla? It's strange he
has not come," and then cook from the kitchen appeared at the landing.
"That young man, mum, Mr. Blenke, would like to speak with Miss Sanford
a minute." And, leaving the papers on her bureau, glad of a respite,
Priscilla hastened down.
Blenke's big mournful brown eyes had of late been darker than ever, and
dark circles had sunk in beneath them. Blenke's sallow face had taken on
an even sallower hue. "Nothing but indigestion and lack of exercise,"
said the junior doctor, of whom Priscilla had made inquiries. "The man
spends his leisure hours moping or mooning around by himself. He ought
to be made to play ball, tennis, spar, ride, wrestle, or something. He's
a day-dreamer--maybe a pipe-dreamer," hazarded he, in conclusion, with a
queer look at Priscilla, who had flushed indignantly at the insinuation.
Blenke had sorrowfully and virtuously repelled that insinuation the
moment she brought it to his attention, but circumstances had been
combining to make her uneasy about her paragon. If not a "pipe-dreamer,"
Blenke was becoming odd and nervous, queer, and twitchy. To-day he came
with a plea she had never heard him make before. Blenke, who never
drank, gambled, smoked, swore, or otherwise misconducted himself, had
come to tell Miss Sanford in the best of language that he had urgent
need of ten dollars and two days' pass. The pass his captain had signed
on the spot, but he wouldn't stand for the ten dollars. Blenke would
tell Miss Sanford all about it on his return, but now there was not a
moment to lose unless he lose also the train to Rapid City. Would Miss
Sanford help him?
Priscilla had but ten dollars to her name, but swiftly she sped upstairs
to get it. The bugle was sounding the recall from drill as she entered
her little room, unlocked an upper drawer of the dressing-table, and
found the two bills in her slender _portemonnaie_. The batch of official
papers, with the portentous, red ink-lined, third indorsement uppermost,
still stared at her from the prim, white-covered top, and impatiently
she thrust it into the shallow pocket of the summer skirt and hastened
away downstairs. Blenke's eyes were eloquent with subdued sadness,
mystery, and gratitude as he received the money and turned away. The
children out in front on the parade, with shrill shouting and laughter,
had just gone racing away toward the eastward gate, and as their clamor
died in the distance Priscilla's quick ear caught the sound of sobbing
and a piteous wail for help.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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