Women -- Fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- England -- Fiction
’How pretty your things are, ma’am, if you won’t think it a liberty for
me to say so,’ which was considerably more tactful than my remark about
the nighties. And the invalid blushed quite nicely and looked at me
reprovingly.
Daddy always said that Nannie couldn’t tell a lie and came out in a cold
perspiration if she even tried, but I think her first and last will be
forgiven her. So we got Mrs Williams to bed, she was very exhausted.
The doctor came and said that she was threatened with appendicitis and
that if this attack could be warded off she ought to be sent to the sea
and get quite strong and then have the operation.
While I was waiting in the firelight for dinner a chastened Ross
appeared. He slipped his arm round me and hid his face in my hair.
’Oh, Meg,’ he said, ’I am a beast.’
’I was wrongfully accused!’
’Nannie told me about the ripping things you’ve given her; I ought to be
kicked for saying it.’
’Oh, Ross, what rot, what about that fat case of notes?’
’Well, I can’t give him my new kilt, can I?’ with a ghost of a laugh.
’I wish I hadn’t been so cool to the chap, but clothes with the remains
of the last meal on simply make me curl up. I can’t help it, I do try
and not let it show. I will be deadly civil now, I’ll have my party
smile on all the time,’ said my repentant brother.
Ross in white rags of penitence so amused me that I felt I would like to
keep him humble a little longer. The boot is nearly always on the other
leg, so I said, very gravely, hoping he wouldn’t feel me giggle,—
’You see, Ross, it was your damnable temper and your accursed pride.’
Then with amazing suddenness the boot was on the usual leg. ’I won’t
have you say those words, Meg, and understand if I let you have these
people here, you’re not to get fagged out. Michael says so in every
letter he writes me. I shall wire for a nurse for her in the morning,
and you’re to get somebody extra in the kitchen, and as you don’t seem
able to manage those women, I’ve told Sam to do something. Michael sent
me a prepaid wire to-day saying you’d said you were hungry, and what was
being done about it.’
I was just about to protest when Mr Williams came into the hall, so the
conversation changed abruptly. He was quite spruced up, shaved, and
looked heaps better. I saw Ross give one fastidious glance at the
spotted clothes, but he was very nice to him at dinner and talked with
charming deference. When half a spoon of soup went down the ill-used
coat, I saw Ross slowly freeze and curl up, but he violently uncurled
himself and said, ’Oh, rotten luck, sir,’ and helped poor Mr Williams
mop it up.
I slipped upstairs quite early to see how the invalid was, and found her
inclined to be sleepy, and as I bent over her she whispered, ’I can’t
thank you, but "Inasmuch," He said.’
Ross peeped round my door about eleven and found me writing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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