Part 19 (1/2)

Later on I too went away, carrying in my mind the picture of a girl--she was no more--holding a little bronze cross in front of a laughing baby--the cross on which is written, ”For Valour.” And once again my mind went back to that little plot in Flanders covered with wooden crosses.

CHAPTER VIII

JAMES HENRY

James Henry was the sole remaining son of his mother, and she was a widow. His father, some twelve months previously, had inadvertently encountered a motor-car travelling at great speed, and had forthwith been laid to rest. His sisters--whom James Henry affected to despise--had long since left the parental roof and gone to seek their Fortunes in the great world; while his brothers had in all cases died violent deaths, following in the steps of their lamented father. In fact, as I said, James Henry was alone in the world saving only for his mother: and as she'd married again since his father's death he felt that his responsibility so far as she was concerned was at an end. In fact, he frequently cut her when he met her about the house.

Relations had become particularly strained after this second matrimonial venture. An aristocrat of the most unbending description himself, he had been away during the period of her courts.h.i.+p--otherwise, no doubt, he would have protected his father's stainless escutcheon. As it was, he never quite recovered from the shock.

It was at breakfast one morning that he heard the news. Lady Monica told him as she handed him his tea. ”James Henry,” she remarked reproachfully, ”your mother is a naughty woman.” True to his aristocratic principle of stoical calm he continued to consume his morning beverage. There were times when the mention of his mother bored him to extinction. ”A very naughty woman,” she continued. ”Dad”--she addressed a man who had just come into the room--”it's occurred.”

”What--have they come?”

”Yes--last night. Five.”

”Are they good ones?”

Lady Alice laughed. ”I was just telling James Henry what I thought of his Family when you came in. I'm afraid Harriet Emily is incorrigible.”

”Look at James!” exclaimed the Earl--”he's spilled his tea all over the carpet.” He was inspecting the dishes on the sideboard as he spoke.

”He always does. His whiskers dribble. Jervis tells me that he thinks Harriet Emily must have--er--flirted with a most undesirable acquaintance.”

”Oh! has she?” Her father opened the morning paper and started to enjoy his breakfast. ”We must drown 'em, my dear, drown---- Hullo! the Russians have crossed the----” It sounded like an explosion in a soda-water factory, and James Henry protested.

”Quite right, Henry. He oughtn't to do it at breakfast. It doesn't really make any one any happier. Did _you_ know about your mother? Now don't gobble your food.” Lady Monica held up an admonis.h.i.+ng finger.

”Four of your brothers and sisters are more or less respectable, James, but there's _one_--there's one that is distinctly reminiscent of a dachshund. Oh! 'Arriet, 'Arriet--I'm ashamed of you.”

James Henry sneezed heavily and got down from the table. Always a perfect gentleman, he picked up the crumbs round his chair, and even went so far as to salvage a large piece of sausage skin which had slipped on to the floor. Then, full of rect.i.tude and outwardly unconcerned, he retired to a corner behind a cupboard and earnestly contemplated a little hole in the floor.

Outwardly calm--yes: that at least was due to the memory of his blue-blooded father. But inwardly, he seethed. With his head on one side he alternately sniffed and blew as he had done regularly every morning for the past two months. His father's wife the mother of a sausage-dog!

Incredible! It must have been that miserable fat beast who lived at the Pig and Whistle. The insolence--the inconceivable impertinence of such an unsightly, corpulent traducer daring to ally himself with One of the Fox Terriers. He growled slightly in his disgust, and three mice inside the wall laughed gently. But--still, the girls are ever frail. He blushed slightly at some recollection, and realised that he must make allowances. But a sausage dog! Great Heavens!

”James--avancons, mon brave.” Lady Monica was standing in the window.

”We will hie us to the village. Dad, don't forget that our branch of the Federated a.s.sociation of Women War Workers are drilling here this afternoon.”

”Good Heavens! my dear girl--is it?” Her father gazed at her in alarm.

”I think--er--I think I shall have to--er--run up to Town--er--this afternoon.”

”I thought you'd have to, old dear. In fact, I've ordered the car for you. Come along, Henry--we must go and get a boy scout to be bandaged.”

James Henry gave one last violently facial contortion at the entrance of the mouse's lair, and rose majestically to his feet. If she wanted to go out, he fully realised that he must go with her: Emily would have to wait. He would go round later and see his poor misguided mother and reason with her; but just at present the girl was his princ.i.p.al duty.

She generally asked his advice on various things when they went for a walk, and the least he could do was to pretend to be interested at any rate.

Apparently this morning she was in need of much counsel and help.