Elizabeths Campaign | Page 5

there was not a smile to be got out of her. And it was a
very fleeting one when it came. Desmond's name fared a little better. At
that the girl did at last raise her beautiful eyes, which till then she had
hardly allowed to be seen, and there was a ray in them.

'He's here on leave,' she said; 'a few days. He's just got his Commission
and been accepted for the artillery. He goes into camp next week. He
thinks he'll be out by January.'
'We must certainly manage to see him before he goes,' said Sir Henry
heartily. Then turning to Miss Bremerton with the slightly
over-emphatic civility of a man who prides himself on his manners in
all contingencies, he asked her if she was already acquainted with the
Mannering neighbourhood.
Miss Bremerton replied that it was quite unknown to her. 'You'll
admire our trees,' said Sir Henry. 'They're very fine.'
'Are they?' said the lady rather absently, giving a perfunctory glance to
the woods sloping away on her right towards a little stream winding in
the hollow. Sir Henry felt a slight annoyance. He was a good fellow,
and no more touchy as to personal dignity than the majority of men of
his age and class. But he was accustomed to be treated with a certain
deference, and in Miss Bremerton's manner there was none whatever.
'Well, good-bye, Pamela. I mustn't miss your father. When are you
coming over to see Beryl?'
'How am I to get there?' said the girl with a sudden laugh.
'Oh, I see, you've got no petrol allowance?'
'How should we? Nobody's doing any war work here.'
There was an odd note in the speaker's voice.
'Why don't you join Beryl in her canteen work?' said Sir Henry
abruptly.
'I don't know.'
'She wants help badly. She passes your gate on her way to Fallerton.
She could pick you up, and bring you back.'

'Yes,' said Pamela. There was a pause.
'Well, good-bye, dear,' said Sir Henry again, and with a ceremonious
bow to Pamela's companion, he rode on--meditating on many things.
* * * * *
'The Squire's in, Sir Henry, but--well, he's very busy.'
'Never mind, Forest. I must see him. Can you find some one to take my
horse round?'
The grey-haired butler looked perplexed.
'I've only got my own small boy, Sir Henry. There's two more of our
men gone this morning. I don't know if you'll trust him. He's a good
boy.'
'Send him along, Forest. My beast's a lamb--you know him. But look
here, Forest'--Sir Henry dismounted, bridle in hand. 'Don't give the
Squire notice that I'm here, if you can help it, till you announce me.'
The butler, who, in spite of his grey hair, was a square-set,
vigorous-looking fellow, might be said, in reply, to have given the
Squire's visitor a wink. At any rate a look of understanding passed
between the two. The butler went quickly back into the house, and
re-emerged with a boy, who was the small image of his father, to whom
Sir Henry cheerfully gave up his cob. But as Forest led the way through
the outer hall he stopped to say:
'The Squire's not alone, sir. There was a gentleman arrived just as Miss
Pamela went out. But I don't think he'll stay long.'
'Who is he?'
'Can't say, sir. He's lodging in the village, and comes to see the Squire's
collections sometimes.'
They were now in a long passage running along the eastern front of the

house to a large room which had been added to its southern end, in
order to hold the Squire's library and collections. Midway the butler
turned.
'You've heard, Sir Henry, about Mr. Desmond?'
'Yes, Miss Pamela told me.'
'Mr. Desmond says he'll be in France by January. He's as pleased as
possible, but it's a deal sooner than Mr. Mannering hoped.'
'Well, we've all got to take our chance in this war,' said Sir Henry
gravely. 'And the artillery is a bit safer than the infantry. You know my
son Arthur's a gunner.'
'I hope he's all right, sir?'
'Well, he's still on light work. He comes home this week for a bit. He
was gassed at Ypres a year and a half ago, and had a bullet taken out of
his chest about two months since. But he is nearly fit again.'
The butler expressed his sympathy with a complete absence of shyness
or servility, then threw open a door at the end of the passage,
announcing, 'Sir Henry Chicksands, sir.'
'_D-mn_!' said a voice loudly within.
Sir Henry gave an involuntary start. Another look passed between him
and Forest, amused or interrogative on the visitor's part, non-committal
on the butler's.
* * * * *
The library of Mannering