Impersonation -- Fiction; Love stories; World War, 1914-1918 -- Veterans -- Fiction
“I suppose he went back to the village, but there hasn’t been any
train since ten, and you say he was still there at ten. He’s likely
waiting at the station for the twelve o’clock. I’ll speed up and get
there before it comes. I have fifteen minutes. I”--glancing at her
wrist-watch--“I guess I can make it.”
“I’m not so sure he went that way,” said Miss Marilla, looking up the
road past Mary Amber’s house. “He was on his way up that way when--”
and then Miss Marilla suddenly shut her mouth, and did not finish the
sentence. Mary Amber gave her another curious, discerning look, and
nodded brightly.
“You go in and get warm, Auntie Rill. Leave that soldier to me; I’ll
bring him home.” Then she sped back through the hedge to the little
garage, and in a few minutes was speeding down the road toward the
station. Miss Marilla watched her in troubled silence, and then,
putting on her cape that always hung handy by the hall-door, walked
a little distance up the road, straining her old eyes, but seeing
nothing. Finally in despair she turned back; and presently, just as she
reached her own steps again, she saw Mary’s car come flying back with
only Mary in it. But Mary did not stop nor even look toward the house.
She sped on up the road this time, and the purring of the engine was
sweet music to Miss Marilla’s ears. Dear Mary Amber, how she loved her!
* * * * *
The big blue soldier, cold to the soul of him, and full of pain that
reminded him of the long horror of the war, was still sitting by the
roadside with his head in his hands when Mary Amber’s car came flying
down the road. She stopped before him with a little triumphant purr of
the engine, so close to him that it roused him from his lethargy to
look up.
“I should think you’d be ashamed of yourself, running away from Miss
Marilla like this, and making her worry herself sick!” Mary Amber’s
voice was keen as icicles, and the words went through him like red-hot
needles. He straightened up, and the light of battle came back to
his eyes. This was GIRL again, his enemy. His firm upper lip moved
sensitively, and came down straight and strong against the lower one,
showing the nice line of character that made his mouth beautiful.
“Thank you,” he said coldly. “I’m only ashamed that I stayed so long.”
His tone further added that he did not know what business of hers it
was.
“Well, she sent me for you; and you’ll please to get in quickly, for
she’s very much worked up about you.”
Mary Amber’s tone stated that she herself was not in the least worked
up about a great, hulking soldier that would let a woman wait on him
for several days hand and foot, and then run away when her back was
turned.
“Kindly tell her that I am sorry I troubled her, but that it is not
possible for me to return at present,” he answered stiffly. “I came
down to send a business telegram, and I am waiting for an answer.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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