Echoes of the War | Page 4

did you tell me?'
MRS. DOWEY. 'Most certainly. He's in the famous Black Watch.'
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN, producing her handkerchief, 'The Surrey Rifles is the famousest.'
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'There you and the King disagrees, Mrs. Haggerty. His choice is the Buffs, same as my Percy's.'
MRS. TWYMLEY, magnanimously, 'Give me the R.H.A. and you can keep all the rest.'
MRS. DOWEY. 'I'm sure I have nothing to say against the Surreys and the R.H.A. and the Buffs; but they are just breeches regiments, I understand.'
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'We can't all be kilties.'
MRS. DOWEY, crushingly, 'That's very true.'
MRS. TWYMLEY. It is foolish of her, but she can't help saying it. 'Has your Kenneth great hairy legs?'
MRS. DOWEY. 'Tremendous.'
The wicked woman: but let us also say 'Poor Sarah Ann Dowey.' For at this moment, enter Nemesis. In other words, the less important part of a clergyman appears upon the stair.
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'It's the reverent gent!'
MRS. DOWEY, little knowing what he is bringing her, 'I see he has had his boots heeled.'
It may be said of Mr. Willings that his happy smile always walks in, front of him. This smile makes music of his life, it means that once again he has been chosen, in his opinion, as the central figure in romance. No one can well have led a more drab existence, but he will never know it; he will always think of himself, humbly though elatedly, as the chosen of the gods. Of him must it have been originally written that adventures are for the adventurous. He meets them at every street corner. For instance, he assists an old lady off a bus, and asks her if he can be of any further help. She tells him that she wants to know the way to Maddox the butcher's. Then comes the kind, triumphant smile; it always comes first, followed by its explanation, 'I was there yesterday!' This is the merest sample of the adventures that keep Mr. Willings up to the mark.
Since the war broke out, his zest for life has become almost terrible. He can scarcely lift a newspaper and read of a hero without remembering that he knows some one of the name. The Soldiers' Rest he is connected with was once a china emporium, and (mark my words), he had bought his tea service at it. Such is life when you are in the thick of it. Sometimes he feels that he is part of a gigantic spy drama, In the course of his extraordinary comings and goings he meets with Great Personages, of course, and is the confidential recipient of secret news. Before imparting the news he does not, as you might expect, first smile expansively; on the contrary, there comes over his face an awful solemnity, which, however, means the same thing. When divulging the names of the personages, he first looks around to make sure that no suspicious character is about, and then, lowering his voice, tells you, 'I had that from Mr. Farthing himself--he is the secretary of the Bethnal Green Branch,--h'sh!'
There is a commotion about finding a worthy chair for the reverent, and there is also some furtive pulling down of sleeves, but he stands surveying the ladies through his triumphant smile. This amazing man knows that he is about to score again.
MR. WILLINGS, waving aside the chairs, 'I thank you. But not at all. Friends, I have news.'
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'News?'
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'From the Front?'
MRS. TWYMLEY. 'My Alfred, sir?'
They are all grown suddenly anxious--all except the hostess, who knows that there can never be any news from the Front for her.
MR. WILLINGS. 'I tell you at once that all is well. The news is for Mrs. Dowey.'
She stares.
MRS. DOWEY. 'News for me?'
MR. WILLINGS. 'Your son, Mrs. Dowey--he has got five days' leave.' She shakes her head slightly, or perhaps it only trembles a little on its stem. 'Now, now, good news doesn't kill.'
MRS. TWYMLEY. 'We're glad, Mrs. Dowey.'
MRS. DOWEY. 'You're sure?'
MR. WILLINGS. 'Quite sure. He has arrived.'
MRS. DOWEY. 'He is in London?'
MR. WILLINGS. 'He is. I have spoken to him.'
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'You lucky woman.'
They might see that she is not looking lucky, but experience has told them how differently these things take people.
MR. WILLINGS, marvelling more and more as he unfolds his tale, 'Ladies, it is quite a romance, I was in the----' he looks around cautiously, but he knows that they are all to be trusted--'in the Church Army quarters in Central Street, trying to get on the track of one or two of our missing men. Suddenly my eyes--I can't account for it--but suddenly my eyes alighted on a Highlander seated rather drearily on a bench, with his kit at his feet.'
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'A big man?'
MR. WILLINGS. 'A great brawny fellow.' The Haggerty Woman groans. '"My friend," I said at once, "welcome back to