Echoes of the War Part 29

d.i.c.k was always a curious boy, and forgetting that she cannot hear him, he blurts out, 'How do you mean, mother? Why are they precious?'

Mr. Don forgets also and looks to her for an answer.

'What is it, Robert?'

'Didn't you--hear anything, Grace?'

'No. Perhaps Laura was calling; I left her on the stair.'

'I wish,' Mr. Don is fighting for d.i.c.k now, 'I wish Laura would come back and say good-night to me.'

'I daresay she will.'

'And,' valiantly, 'if she could be--rather brighter, Grace.'

'Robert!'

'I think d.i.c.k would like it.'

Her fine eyes reproach him mutely, but she says, ever forgiving, 'Is that how you look at it, Robert? Very well, laugh your fill--if you can.

But if d.i.c.k were to appear before me to-night----'

In his distress Mr. Don cries aloud to the figure by the fire, 'd.i.c.k, if you can appear to your mother, do it.'

There is a pause in which anything may happen, but nothing happens.

Yes, something happened: d.i.c.k has stuck to his father.

'Really, Robert!' Mrs. Don says, and, without a word of reproach, she goes away. Evidently d.i.c.k comes to his father, who has sank into a chair, and puts a loving hand on him. Mr. Don clasps it without looking up.

'Father, that was top-hole of you! Poor mother, I should have liked to hug her; but I can't.'

'You should have gone to her, d.i.c.k; you shouldn't have minded me.'

The wiser boy says, 'Mother's a darling, but she doesn't need me as much as you do.'

'I don't know.'

'That's all right. I'm glad she's so keen about that game, though.'

He has returned to the ingle-nook when Laura comes in, eager to make amends to d.i.c.k's father if she hurt him when she went out.

Softly, 'I have come to say good-night, Mr. Don.'

'It's nice of you, Laura,' taking both her hands.

d.i.c.k speaks. 'I want her to come nearer to the fire; I can't see her very well there.'

For a moment Mr. Don is caught out again; but Laura has heard nothing.

He becomes quite cunning in d.i.c.k's interests.

'Your hands are cold, Laura; go over to the fire. I want to look at you.'

She sits on the hearthstone by d.i.c.k's feet.

Shyly, 'Am I all right?'

It is d.i.c.k who answers. 'You're awfully pretty, Laura. You are even prettier than I thought. I remember I used to think, she can't be quite as pretty as I think her; and then when you came you were just a little prettier.'

She has been warming her hands. 'Why don't you say anything?' she asks Mr. Don.

'I was thinking of you and d.i.c.k, Laura.'

'What a pretty soul she has, father,' says the boy; 'I can see right down into it now.'

'If d.i.c.k had lived, Laura, do you think that you and he--?'

With s.h.i.+ning eyes, 'I think--if he had wanted it very much.'

'I expect he would, my dear.'

There is an odd candour about d.i.c.k's contribution. 'I think so, too, but I never was quite sure.' They are a very young pair.

Laura is trembling a little. 'Mr. Don--'

'Yes, Laura?'

'I think there is something wicked about me. I sometimes feel quite light-hearted--though d.i.c.k has gone.'

'Perhaps, nowadays, the fruit trees have that sort of shame when they blossom, Laura; but they can't help doing it. I hope you are yet to be a happy woman, a happy wife.'

'It seems so heartless to d.i.c.k.'

'Not a bit; it's what I should like,' d.i.c.k says.

'It's what he would like, Laura.'

'Do you remember, Laura,' d.i.c.k goes on, 'I kissed you once. It was under a lilac in the Loudon Woods. I knew at the time that you were angry, and I should have apologised. I'm sorry, Laura.'

His sweetheart has risen, tasting something bitter-sweet. 'What is it, Laura?' Mr. Don asks.

'Somehow--I don't know how--but, for a moment I seemed to feel the smell of lilac. d.i.c.k was once--nice to me under a lilac. Oh, Mr. Don--' She goes to him like a child, and he soothes and pets her.

'There, there! That will be all right, quite all right.' He takes her to the door. 'Good-night, my dear.'

'Good-night, Mr. Don.'

'Good-bye, Laura,' says the third voice.