Rodens Corner | Page 5

with much glory to themselves and an increased burden to the cares of the Colonial Office, was a fact which a grateful country was at this moment doing its best to recognize. That the authorities and those who knew him could not explain how he had done it any more than he himself could, was another fact which troubled him as little. Major White was wise in that he did not attempt to explain.
"That sort of thing," he said, "generally comes right in the end." And the affair may thus be consigned to that pigeon-hole of the past in which are filed for future reference cases where brilliant men have failed and unlikely ones have covered themselves with sudden and transient glory.
There had been a review of the troops that had taken part in a short and satisfactory expedition of which, by what is usually called a lucky chance, White found himself the hero. He was not of the material of which heroes are made; but that did not matter. The world will take a man and make a hero of him without pausing to inquire of what stuff he may be. Nay, more, it will take a man's name and glorify it without so much as inquiring to what manner of person the name belongs.
Tony Cornish, who went everywhere and saw everything, was of course present at the review, and knew all the best people there. He passed from carriage to carriage in his smart way, saying the right thing to the right people in the right words, failing to see the wrong people quite in the best manner, and conscious of the fact that none could surpass him. Then suddenly, roused to a higher manhood by the tramp of steady feet, by the sight of his lifelong friend White riding at the head of his tanned warriors, this social success forgot himself. He waved his silk hat and shouted himself hoarse, as did the honest plumber at his side.
"That's better work than yours nor mine, mister," said the plumber, when the troops were gone; and Tony admitted, with his ready smile, that it was so. A few minutes later Tony found Major White solemnly staring at a small crowd, which as solemnly stared back at him, on the pavement in front of the Horse Guards.
"Here, I have a cab waiting for me," he had said; and White followed him with a mildly bewildered patience, pushing his way gently through the crowd as through a herd of oxen.
He made no comment, and if he heard sundry whispers of "That's 'im," he was not unduly elated. In the cab he sat bolt upright, looking as if his tunic was too tight, as in all probability it was. The day was hot, and after a few jerks he extracted a pocket-handkerchief from his sleeve.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"Well, I was going to Cambridge Terrace. Joan sent me a card this morning saying that she wanted to see me," explained Tony Cornish. He was a young man who seemed always busy. His long thin legs moved quickly, he spoke quickly, and had a rapid glance. There was a suggestion of superficial haste about him. For an idle man, he had remarkably little time on his hands.
White took up his eye-glass, examined it with short-sighted earnestness, and screwed it solemnly into his eye.
"Cambridge Terrace?" he said, and stared in front of him.
"Yes. Have you seen the Ferribys since your glorious return to these--er--shores?" As he spoke, Cornish gave only half of his attention. He knew so many people that Piccadilly was a work of considerable effort, and it is difficult to bow gracefully from a hansom cab.
"Can't say I have."
"Then come in and see them now. We shall find only Joan at home, and she will not mind your fine feathers or the dust and circumstance of war upon your boots. Lady Ferriby will be sneaking about in the direction of Edgware Road--fish is nearly two pence a pound cheaper there, I understand. My respected uncle is sure to be sunning his waistcoat in Piccadilly. Yes, there he is. Isn't he splendid? How do, uncle?" and Cornish waved a grey Suède glove with a gay nod.
"How are the Ferribys?" inquired Major White, who belonged to the curt school.
"Oh, they seem to be well. Uncle is full of that charity which at all events has its headquarters in the home counties. Aunt--well, aunt is saving money."
"And Miss Ferriby?" inquired White, looking straight in front of him.
Cornish glanced quickly at his companion. "Oh, Joan?" he answered. "She is all right. Full of energy, you know--all the fads in their courses."
"You get 'em too."
"Oh yes; I get them too. Buttonholes come and buttonholes go. Have you noticed it? They get large. Neapolitan violets all over