CHAPTER XI
"LAST LEAVE"
The Lindsay boys did not get home on leave until the Easter vacation,for they were taking their military training along with theiruniversity work. John drove down to Silver Creek Crossing to meetthem, for the roads to town were almost impassable. The home-coming ofthe boys had always been the great event in their family life, but itwas a far more wonderful thing this time; it had something of theflavour of heroes returning from the war.
Christina and Jimmie met them at the road gate under the moaningpoplars, where the wind whipped her skirts about her and blew her hairinto her eyes.
Their mother and Uncle Neil were half way down the lane, and evenGrandpa had hobbled to the edge of the garden to meet the soldier boyshome on their first leave. Christina had known they would be in khaki,but when a trim young private of artillery in jingling spurs andbandolier, and a smart young subaltern in shining boots and straps andbelt and what not leaped from the democrat and charged upon her;instead of running to meet them, their sister put her head down againstthe gate post and burst into tears. Somehow the sight of Sandy in theuniform of his country's service had overwhelmed Christina with a senseof the great gulf that had yawned between them. Sandy and Neil weregone and there were two soldier-men in their place. Manlike, they didnot understand her tears.
"Goodness, Christine!" cried Sandy, jovially, "if you're sorry we'vecome home, we can turn right back if you'd rather."
"You silly thing--I--I'm not sorry," gasped Christina; kissing them andturning from tears to laughter. "I--I forgot you'd be in uniform."
"Well, cheer up," said Neil comfortingly, "I'll admit that the sight ofSandy's calves is enough to make anybody weep, but he'll fatten up nextsummer--here's Mother!"--and he ran up the lane at a breakneck pace.
Certainly Sandy's calves were not any too stout. He looked like a whiphandle dressed up, Uncle Neil said as he circled round him admiringly.But he was as neat and smart as a whip, too, even if he were thin andeven John could not hide his admiration. And as for Grandpa, he had totake refuge in Gaelic exclamations to express himself.
The mother spoke just one hint of her regrets as they sat around thesupper table, Neil at her right hand. She smoothed his rough khakisleeve, examining the cloth closely, and pronounced it a finecomfortable piece that would wear well.
"It's the only cloth to wear these days, Mother," Neil said. "Don'tyou think so?"
She shook her head. "I would be hoping to see you in a black coat,Neily," she said softly.
"That'll come later," said Neil comfortingly. "You think I did right,don't you?" he continued, anxiously.
"Oh, yes, yes, indeed, you did right, and I'm proud that you will bewanting to go," she declared bravely. And Neil's heart was content.
These were stirring days in Orchard Glen while the boys were home. Allthe boys and girls gathered at the Lindsays just as they used to. Butthere was one family missing. The McKenzies were absent, and UncleNeil never sang the "Standard on the Braes o' Mar" any more.
There was great fun with Sandy and Neil, for Sandy was an officer andhis elder brother a private, and it was impossible for them to rememberthat Neil's old air of authority with Sandy was now quite out of place.The private was always saluting the subaltern with tremendous gravity,and the next moment treating him in a manner that deserved acourt-martial.
Jimmie followed his soldier brothers about in a passion of admiration.And one day the ambition that was burning him up burst forth.
"Say, what do you think?" he cried excitedly, coming in with theafternoon mail. "Tommy Holmes has enlisted, and he's a month youngerthan I am."
"Then he's a silly youngster, and ought to be kept washing dishes topunish him," said Neil sharply. "No boy under eighteen has any rightto enlist!"
"I'll be eighteen next Fall!" declared Jimmie defiantly.
"Which means you've barely turned seventeen, so hold your tongue," saidSandy.
Jimmie saluted with mock meekness. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," hesaid, with a great show of nervousness.
Uncle Neil laughed uproariously, but brother Neil looked serious, andwhen milking time came he took Jimmie aside in the barn.
"You're worrying Mother, with your talk about enlisting," he said."Can't you see that, and be quiet."
"I want to go as much as you do," said Jimmie stubbornly.
"I don't want to go at all," declared Neil, and his younger brotherstared. "And neither would you if you would stop and think what afearful thing this war is. I'm going because it is my duty, and so isSandy. It's your duty to stay at home and finish the education Johnand Allister are giving you, and look after Mother.
"I don't want to go back to school," grumbled Jimmie, "Not after I'vepassed next summer, anyway."
"John doesn't want to stay here on the farm. He'd like to go to theFront, but he stays. You are young and you will be needed later. Sobe a man and do your duty. All the soldiers aren't going info thetrenches."
But his advice had little effect on Jimmie, the war fever was in hisveins. He gave his promise, however, to wait until he was eighteen,and Neil had to be content. But he was restless and fretful under therestriction, he felt quite sure that the war would all be over longbefore that date and his great opportunity would be gone.
Meanwhile Orchard Glen was slowly waking up at the call for men. TommyHolmes rushed into khaki after the first glorious sight of the Lindsayboys in the village street, and Tremendous K.'s eldest son followed.And Christina had the heavy task of writing to Ellen to tell her thatBruce had given up his prospects of being a Doctor, and was enlistedwith the University corps. Mr. Sinclair's only son, who was a ministerin a neighbouring town, came home to say farewell, dressed in hischaplain's uniform, and the little village lived in a whirl ofexcitement.
The Red Cross Society was busy night and day making socks for the boyswho had left, with the result that they each one got far more than anyyoung man with only two feet could possibly wear.
All this stir, and the sight of so much khaki coming and going in thevillage had a bad effect upon Dr. McGarry. Every day he took the warmore grievously to heart. He and Mr. Holmes took different sides as tothe conduct of the spring campaign, and after Tommy enlisted it was notsafe for the Doctor to go into the store, so high did feeling run.
And at home the Doctor was even worse, until poor Mrs. Sutherland'slife was scarcely worth living. Wallace unwittingly brought down atorrent of wrath upon his head one day when the Spring Drive was on andprospects were looking black. It was an inopportune moment for Wallaceto broach the subject upon which he had been thinking deeply for manydays.
"Uncle," he said, as they sat down to their pretty tea-table in thesun-flooded dining-room. "I'd like to go on a farm this Spring. ThatFord place below the mill is for sale, and the Browns are talking ofbuying it. You've always wanted to retire on a farm and I could startthe work and----"
He paused, interrupted by his mother's dismayed exclamation. "Wallace!You with your prospects to settle down here and be a common farmer!Surely you don't mean it!"
"Elinor, don't be foolish!" snapped her brother, looking up from adreary paragraph concerning a British reverse that was attempting toappear as a strategic move. "You might be glad to have him a commonfarmer, as you call it. And as for his prospects, I don't see whatthey are, to tell you the truth."
"Don't you agree with me, Uncle?" cried Wallace ingratiatingly. "Theseold chaps here farm like Noah before the flood. I'd like to show someof them an up-to-date way of managing stock." But his uncle was notcapable of agreeing with anybody. His sister's tears forbade that heput his duty before his nephew, and it fairly broke the old man's heartthat Wallace needed any one to suggest that he enlist. In times ofpeace he would have sympathised with the boy's desire to be a farmer,and he approved highly of Christina, but just now he could listen tonothing but the cry of Belgium.
"What's the use of talking a lot of rot!" he burst forth irritably."You needn't ask m
y advice about farming! Before you'd get your cropoff your farm next Fall the Kaiser of Germany would have everything tosay about it. How will you like it when you have to pass over most ofyour profits to him and his War Lords? Here we are planning andscheming and all the time we're living in a Fool's Paradise, with theenemy at our door! We are marrying and giving in marriage, while thefloods are pouring in upon us! Yes, go farming to-morrow if you like!It'll only be for a few months anyway. The Philistines are upon us!"
Matters were always serious when the Doctor took to quoting Scripture,and Mrs. Sutherland reached protectingly for her cut-glass spoon trayas his fist came down with a crash upon the table.
The result of the unhappy episode was that Wallace tramped sulkily upto his room after supper, and when his distressed mother went up tocomfort him, she found him packing his suit-case once more. He wasgoing to enlist. This was the end, he could stand no more, he declared.
"Oh, Wallace, Wallace, you will surely break your widowed mother'sheart," declared Mrs. Sutherland in despair. She wept and pleaded.She made extravagant promises. She would write to Uncle William, shewould even go to see him if he thought best, she would not urge him togo back to college if he did not want to. She would write UncleWilliam about the farm and she would try to make Uncle Peter be morereasonable if only Wallace would promise that he would not break herheart by enlisting. Wallace was a warm-hearted boy who could not bearto look upon distress. So he promised and his mother put aside all herhigh hopes and wrote humbly and pleadingly to her brother. Wallace wasreally not strong enough to study, the confinement seemed to impair hishealth. Peter agreed with her there. He would like to go farming,there was an excellent chance to buy or rent a place right near thevillage. Peter was interested in it and declared that he would like toretire and go on this farm some day. They felt that Wallace's healthwould improve if he had outdoor life, etc.
Whatever the letter contained it proved the key to unlock UncleWilliam's closed money box. He was not at all a hard man and hissister's distress moved him. He wrote that he was glad that the youngcub had sense enough to farm, for it was no use trying to educate him.But he thought that a military training would be good for a youngfellow's health. However, if he would rather feed the pigs and cleanout the stable than go to college, all right, let him, that wasprobably his proper place. The words stung but they were covered by amost wonderful cheque, with instructions to Uncle Peter to see that theyoungster did not throw it away.
Mrs. Sutherland was relieved even in the midst of her bitterdisappointment. She had had such high ambitions for Wallace and nowthere seemed nothing ahead of him but the life of a common farmer. Hewould marry Christina Lindsay and probably never go further from homethan Algonquin and William would give all his money to Tom's girls whohad more now than they needed. But there was no alternative, and whenshe thought of his enlisting she was thankful that there was somethingto keep him at home. The recruiting officers would not trouble a youngman on a farm.
From that time Christina noticed a marked change in Mrs. Sutherland'sattitude toward her. From being coldly aloof she became warmlygracious and treated her second only to Joanna. Christina accepted thechange gratefully. It had always been a trial, this disapproval ofWallace's mother. She ought to be very happy, she told herself, whenshe scolded herself for still longing to be away. Wallace would alwaysbe in Orchard Glen now, the Ford place had good barns and a fine oldhouse, and who knew?--her heart beat fast at the thought, but there wasno thrill of joy accompanying. Some subtle change had come overChristina since Sandy had enlisted. It seemed as if there could be noother course for a young man now in these days of agony and blood. Herheart was away with her brothers in their high endeavour and could becontent with nothing less.
It was a beautiful Autumn day when Sandy and Neil came home for theirlast leave, as bright and happy as though they were going for apleasure trip round the world. Hugh MacGillivray brought Mary home tosay good-bye to them, for Mary was needing special care these days andcould not travel alone.
Grandpa read the 91st Psalm at worship the morning before they left,and he paused and looked at the two young soldiers as he read thewords. "Thou shalt not be afraid of the terror by night nor for thearrow that flieth by day ... a thousand shall fall at thy side, and tenthousand at thy right hand but it shall not come nigh thee."
Christina listened and wondered and a strange new doubt crept into hersoul. How could she believe that promise, knowing that so many braveboys had fallen before the arrow that flieth by day and that these dearones might meet a similar fate? Were the words of that psalm merelybeautiful sounding phrases that meant nothing? She glanced at hermother to see if she could read a similar doubt there; but Mrs.Lindsay's face was rapt, as though she had seen a new vision of thepsalm's meaning, and Christina was puzzled and disheartened.
She held up her head bravely, standing at the garden gate to wave themgood-bye as they drove down the lane in the golden sunlight. Then sheran down the lane after them, stumbling a little when a mist came overher eyes. She even ran down the road, gallantly waving her apron aslong as Sandy waved his cap, feeling glad that he could not see thetears that were streaming down her face. And she made sure that thedemocrat had disappeared behind the hill before she gave way and sankdown sobbing on the dusty grass of the roadside.
She went back to the desolate home, she must not linger over her grieffor she was needed there as comforter. Her mother had disappeared intothe sanctuary of her room where she was seeking strength from thesource that had never failed her in all life's trials and would holdher up even in this great agony. Grandpa was sitting fumblinghelplessly with his hymn book and arguing with himself. She could hearhim whispering, "Be not far from me, O Lord, for trouble is near!" andshe patted his bowed white head gently as she passed. Uncle Neil hadfled to the barn, and Mitty was crying over the wash-tub in the shed.Christina went furiously to work, as her refuge from tears. It wouldnever do to break down and be no use when Sandy was gone away to fightfor her!
But work would not last all day. It was finished in the evening andWallace came up in his usual gay spirits to report progress on his newfarm, where everything was running in the most up-to-date manner. ButChristina was too sad to even pretend to be interested. She could notrejoice over a new gasoline engine that was to do all the work, whenSandy and Neil were to be made part of the cruel engine of war. Andfor the first time Wallace found her uninterested and consequentlyuninteresting.
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