Captain Jim Part 52

"Bride and Katty have gone to church, so I thought I'd bring you some tea and wish you a merry Christmas," said Miss de Lisle. "But I didn't expect to find the Captain here." She did not wait for their greetings, but vanished with the elephantine swiftness peculiar to her; returning in a few moments with a second tray.

"And toast!" said Jim. "But where's your own, Miss de Lisle?"

"Never mind mine--I'll have it in the kitchen," said the cook-lady.

"Indeed, you will not. Sit down." He marched off, unheeding her protests. When he returned, he bore a large kitchen tray, with the teapot.

"It seemed simpler," he said. "And I couldn't find anything smaller.

This cup is large, Miss de Lisle, but then you won't want it filled so often. Have some of my toast--I couldn't possibly eat all this."

"Well, it's very pleasant here," said the cook-lady, yielding meekly.

"I took some to Mr. Wally, but he merely said, 'Get out, Judkins; I'm not on duty!' and rolled over. So I concluded, in Katty's words, that 'his resht was more to him,' and came away."

"He'll wake up presently and be very pleased to find it; it won't matter to him at all if it's stone-cold," said Jim. "Queer chap, Wal.

I prefer tea with the chill off it, myself. Judkins has hard times getting him up in time for early parade. Luckily Judkins is an old regular soldier, and has a stern, calm way with a young officer."

"Who bullies _you_ into getting up, may I ask?" demanded Miss de Lisle.

"I used to be bullied by a gentleman called Wilkes, in the grey days when I was a subaltern," said Jim sadly. "Now, alas, I am a responsible and dignified person, and I have to set an example." He sighed. "It's awful to be a captain!"

"It's so extraordinary," said his sister, "that I never get used to it."

"But you never had any respect for age," said Jim, removing her tray and putting a pillow on her head. "Every one finished? then I'll clear away the wreck and go and dress." He piled the three trays on top of each other and goose-stepped from the room solemnly--his long legs in pyjamas, under a military great coat, ending a curious effect to the spectacle. Miss de Lisle and Norah laughed helplessly.

"And a captain!" said the cook-lady, wiping her eyes. "Now I really must run, or there will be no breakfast in this house."

Breakfast was a movable feast in the Home for Tired People, who wandered in and out just as they felt inclined. Hot dishes sat on a hot-water plate and a little aluminium-topped table; such matters as ham and brawn lurked on a sideboard; and Allenby came in from time to time to replenish tea and coffee. Norah and her father rarely encountered any one but Phil Hardress at this meal, since theirs was generally over long before most of their guests had decided to get up.

On this morning, however, every one was equally late, and food did not seem to matter; the table was "snowed under" with ma.s.ses of letters and Christmas parcels, and as every one opened these and talked all at once, mingling greetings with exclamations over the contents of the packages, Miss de Lisle's efforts had been in vain.

"I pitied your post-lady," said Mrs. Aikman, the wife of a wounded colonel. "She staggered to the door under an enormous mail-bag, looking as though Christmas were anything but merry. However, I saw her departing, after an interval, with quite a sprightly step."

"Allenby had orders to look after her," Norah said, smiling. "Poor soul--she begins her round at some unearthly hour and she's hungry and tired by the time she gets here."

"One of the remarkable things about this country of yours," said Mr.

Linton, "is the way you have continued to deliver parcels and letters as though there were no war. Strange females or gaunt children bring them to one's door, but the main point is that they do come. In Australia, even without a war, the post-office scorns to deliver a parcel; if any one is rash enough to send you one the post-office puts it in a cupboard and sends you a cold postcard to tell you to come and take it away. If you don't come soon, they send you a threatening card."

"And if you don't obey that?"

"I never dared to risk a third," said Mr. Linton, laughing. "I am a man of peace."

"But what a horrible system!" said Mrs. Aikman. "Doesn't it interfere with business?"

"Oh yes, greatly," said her host. "But I suppose we shall learn, in time."

"I'm going over to the cottage," Norah whispered to Jim. "Do come--Geoff won't think it's Christmas if you don't."

They went out into the hall. Flying feet came down the stairs, and Wally was upon them.

"Merry Christmas, Norah!" He seized both her hands and pranced her down the hall. "Always begin Christmas with a turkey-trot!" he chanted.

"Begin, indeed!" said Norah, with a fine contempt. "I began mine hours ago. Where have you been?"

"I have been--contemplating," said Wally, his brown eyes twinkling.

"No one called me."

"There's evidence to the contrary," Jim said, grinning. "It has been stated that you called a perfectly blameless lady Judkins, and said awful things to her."

"My Aunt!" said Wally. "I hope not--unless you talk pretty straight to Judkins he doesn't notice you. That accounts for the frozen tea and toast I found; I thought Father Christmas had put 'em there."

"Did you eat them?"

"Oh, yes--you should never snub a saint!" said Wally. "So now I don't want any breakfast. Where are you two going?"

"To the cottage. Come along--but really, I do think you should eat a decent breakfast, Wally."

"It will be dinner-time before we know where we are--and I feel that Miss de Lisle's dinner will be no joke," said Wally. "So come along, old house mother, and don't worry your ancient head about me." Each boy seized one of Norah's hands and they raced across the lawn. David Linton, looking at them from the dining-room window, laughed a little.

"Bless them--they're all babies again!" he thought.

The cottage was echoing with strange sounds; it might be inferred that the stockings of the young Hunts had contained only bugles, trumpets and drums. Eva, sweeping the porch, greeted the newcomers with a friendly grin.

"Merry Christmas, Eva!"

"The sime to you," said Eva. "Ain't it a real cold morning? The frorst's got me fingers a fair treat."

"No one minds frost on Christmas Day--it's the proper thing in this queer country!" said Wally. "Was Father Christmas good to you, Eva?"

"Wasn't 'e! Not 'arf!" said Eva. "The children wouldn't 'ear of anyfink but 'angin' up a stockin' for me--and I'm blowed if it wasn't bang full this mornin'. And a post-card from me young man from the Front; it's that saucy I wonder 'ow it ever pa.s.sed the sentry! Well, I do say as 'ow this place ain't brought us nuffink but luck!"

Geoffrey dashed out, equipped with a miniature Sam Brown belt with a sword, and waving a bugle.

"Look! Father Christmas brought them! Merry Christmas, everybody."

He flung himself at Norah, with a mighty hug.

"And where's my Michael--and that Alison?" Norah asked. "Oh, Michael, darling, aren't you the lucky one!" as he appeared crowned with a paper cap and drawing a wooden engine. "Where's Alison?"

"It's no good ever _speaking_ to Alison," Geoffrey said, with scorn.

"She got a silly doll in her stocking, and all she'll do is to sit on the floor and take off its clothes. Girls are stupid--all 'cept you, Norah!"

"Keep up that belief, my son, and you'll be spared a heap of trouble,"

said Major Hunt, coming out. "Unfortunately, you're bound to change your mind. How are you all? We've had an awful morning!"

"It began at half-past four," Mrs. Hunt added. "At that hour Michael discovered a trumpet; and no one has been asleep since."

"They talk of noise at the Front!" said her husband. "Possibly I've got used to artillery preparation; anyhow, it strikes me as a small thing compared to my trio when they get going with a.s.sorted musical instruments. How is your small family, Miss Norah?"

"Not quite so noisy as yours--but still, you would notice they were there!" Norah answered, laughing. "They were all at breakfast when I left, and it seemed likely that breakfast would run on to dinner, unless they remembered that church is at eleven. I must run home; we just came to wish you all a merry Christmas. Dinner at half-past one, remember!"