CHAPTER XII
"ALL THE BLUE BONNETS ARE OVER THE BORDER!"
One day early in the Winter, when the boys' English letters had begunto arrive regularly, Auntie Elspie Grant came over the hills on hersnowshoes, to pay a visit of sympathy to Mrs. Lindsay. She brought abottle of the liniment they made every Fall from the herbs of theCraig-Ellachie garden, a stone jar of their best raspberry cordial, apot of mincemeat, and a piece of Christmas cake.
She spent a long afternoon while they both knitted socks and read theboys' letters and heard the latest news of Allister and Ellen and Maryand discussed at great length the never-failing virtues of Gavin. Johndrove the guest home in the cutter round by the road, for Mrs. Lindsaycould not bear the sight of Elspie walking away over the drifts, thoughas a matter of fact, Elspie in her youthful spirits enjoyed itimmensely.
"Elspie Grant's worryin' about Gavin," said Mrs. Lindsay, when theguest had gone and the early supper was being cleared away.
"What's the matter with him?" asked Christina with that feeling of selfcondemnation that any thought of Gavin always brought.
"She doesn't quite know. That's the trouble. He's not been eating andhe doesn't seem to want to go anywhere. I wonder what can be wrongwith the lad? Such a comfort as Gavin will be to the girls!"
Christina did not suggest an explanation. She had no self-conceit, andcould not imagine that Gavin was grieving over her to the extent ofloss of appetite. But she could not help wondering if she contributedin any measure to his trouble. For now that the matter was drawn toher attention she remembered that Gavin was not taking the part in thelife of the young people of the village which he had once taken. Sincethe Red Cross Society had brought about a reunion of the divided forcesof Orchard Glen, social activities had become very popular, but Gavinwas not one of the reunited company. He did not come to the Temperancemeetings any more and had dropped Choir Practice. He had even left thechoir of his own church and he had deserted on the very day when he wasmost needed, the day they unveiled the Honour Roll with the names ofthe boys who had gone overseas. And in spite of all Tremendous K.'sscolding and pleadings he would not return.
"Gavin Grant's queer," grumbled Jimmie. "We were depending on him togive something the next night the boys have to give the programme, buthe won't even help with the singing."
"Did you ask him what was the matter?" asked Christina, interested."Auntie Elspie told Mother that he is acting as if he were sick."
"I think he's acting just plain mean," declared Jimmie, who had beentaking Sandy's place with Gavin lately and was disappointed in him."Maybe he's in love," he added with a grin and went off whistling.
But it was not that altogether that troubled Gavin, for there wascertainly something very badly wrong with the lad. It was love and warcombined that ailed him, and the war had become a burden too heavy forhis strong young shoulders.
For quiet, shy, gentle Gavin was burning to be up and away into thestruggle. His daily tasks of peace had become a galling joke scarcelyto be borne. And the more he yearned to be gone the more bitterly heblamed himself for what he called his ingratitude and faithlessness.He loved his three foster-mothers with all the power of his loyal youngheart. They had rescued him from a miserable starved childhood and hadlavished all the wealth of their loving hearts upon him. And now hehad grown to manhood, and every year they looked more and more to himfor support. Their declining years had come and he dared not face thepossibility of leaving them. He argued the matter out with himself byday in field and barnyard, and by night as he tossed on his sleeplessbed. Why should he yearn to go when his duty plainly declared that heshould stay? Many of the young farmers about Orchard Glen, boys he hadgrown up with and who could easily be spared, never thought for amoment of the war as their task. And why should he, who was so sadlyneeded at home?
But it was inevitable that Gavin should be unhappy in the safety ofhome while the world was in agony. Without realising it the GrantGirls had raised their boy to be a soldier, they so gentle and so peaceloving. Life had not been narrow, even away back at Craig-Ellachie,where the grass grew in the middle of the corduroy road. Gavin hadbeen nurtured on songs and tales of noble deeds and deathless devotion.He had been reared in a home where each one vied with the other inforgetting self and serving the other. The best books had been hisdaily reading. And, greatest of all, he had been trained to take ashis life's pattern the One whose sole purpose had been not to beministered unto, but to minister.
Night after night as he was growing into manhood, Auntie Flora wouldseat herself at the little old organ, and together they would all sailhappily over a sea of song, thrilling ballads of the old days when menwent gaily to death, singing
"So what care I though Death be nigh, I live for love or die!"
Then Auntie Elspie would put aside her spinning and Auntie Janet herknitting and they would tell him tales from the glorious history of theclan Grant. And he was never tired of hearing that story of the IndianMutiny, told the Grant Girls by their grandfather; how a Highlandregiment held a shot torn position till help came, held againstoverwhelming odds while men fell on every side, held, crying to eachother all up and down the sore-pressed line, "Stand fast,Craig-Ellachie!"
And so Gavin could not but grow up filled with great aspirations. Hecould no more help being chivalrous and self-forgetful than he couldhelp having the slow, soft accent of his Aunties.
And then into his high-purposed life came the Great Occasion! Itseemed as if he had been trained just for this. It called to him andhim alone. The greatest struggle of history; a death-struggle ofsore-pressed Freedom against hideous Oppression was shaking the earth,and the smoke of the conflict was blackening the heavens--and throughit all Gavin Grant remained at peace in his home! Every old Belgianwoman of whom he read, driven from her ruined home, was Auntie Elspie.Every Belgian girl, suffering unspeakable wrong, was Christina. Andthey were crying night and day to him for help and crying in vain.
Many a night, after he had read a flaming page of Belgium's andArmenia's fearful history, he sat, sleepless, by the dying kitchen fireuntil dawn, and the day that the name of Edith Cavell was written inletters of fire across the sides of civilisation, Gavin went off intothe woods alone with his axe, and tried to put some of the fury thatwas burning him up into savage blows against the unoffending timber.
And then the Orchard Glen boys began to answer the call, one by one;Burke and Trooper, and Christina's brothers. Tommy Holmes and CharlieHenderson, and Bruce McKenzie, and he was like Gareth in the storyAuntie Flora had so often told him, Gareth who had to work in thekitchen, while his brother-knights rode clanking past him through thedoorway, out into the world of mighty deeds, out to meet Death on theField of Glory. Those were the days when he had to repeat "Stand fast,Craig-Ellachie" over and over again as he went about his peacefultasks. It brought him little comfort, for it was not to stand fastthat he wanted, but to spring forward in answer to the call to thehazardous task, to death itself, the call which through the ages hasalways summoned the high heart. Sometimes the acutest misery wouldseize him at the thought that persistently haunted him, the fear thatif he had been really a Grant he would have seen his duty more clearlyand would already be in the battle line. Perhaps there was somenecessary spirit left out of him, some saving quality which hisdegraded parents could not hand down to him. If he had been of betterblood might he not have paid no attention to tears and partings buthave thrown away everything in the glorious chance of dying in thegreatest cause for which the world had ever struggled?
He argued the question from every point, and yet he could not find itin his soul to leave his Aunts. He watched them intently to see ifthey would drop any hint of their opinion in the matter. But whilethey highly admired Trooper and commended the Lindsay boys, saying thatnot even the ministry should keep Neil at home, he could not elicitfrom them the smallest hint that they thought he was called to enlist.And so he set his teeth, determined to Stand Fast though his heart
should break. But he was ashamed to be seen in public and he grew moreshy and reticent as the hard days dragged on. Gradually he dropped outof all the activities that used to take him to the village. When hewent he always saw Christina and Wallace Sutherland together, and thatsight added to his misery. And finally he could not bear to hearhimself sing. He looked down at his big brawny hands and arms and feltashamed that he should be standing in a safe and peaceful place,singing! He choked at the thought. He sometimes wished he were not sobig and strong. If he were small and weak like Willie Brown or evenhad one leg like Duke it would be easier to bear.
He gave no reason when he suddenly left the choir the day the HonourRoll was unveiled. He could not confess that he found it intolerableto sit up there right next to that list of heroes. His Auntsremonstrated gently, but though he answered as gently he wasunyielding. So he went back to the family pew and sat beside AuntieElspie. To be sure the growing Honour Roll faced him there, every namewritten in letters of flame that leaped out and scorched him, but atleast he did not have to sing back there and could bear his shamebetter.
His Aunts worried themselves almost ill over him. Auntie Janet dosedhim with medicine and compelled him to wear heavier underwear. AuntieFlora was so fearful that his spiritual condition was languishing thatshe spoke to Mr. Sinclair and he promised to see Gavin and talk to him.Auntie Elspie said nothing but she watched him, and finally her keenmother-heart divined his malady.
Auntie Flora had always been Gavin's instructor, and had led him alongthe way of good books and into a slight knowledge of music, AuntieJanet had been his playmate and confidante, the one with whom he hadalways shared his secrets and to whom he had confessed his boyishscrapes. But Auntie Elspie had been his mother, and she knew her boy.At first she thought the trouble arose over Christina and was bitterlydisappointed when the handsome young man from town had stepped in andruined all Gavin's hopes. But she knew he was too proud to grievelong, and he had laughed one night when Auntie Flora read him "TheManly Heart," "Shall I, wasting in despair, die because a lady's fair?If she be not fair to me, what care I how fair she be?" and asked thatshe read it again. It was just right, he declared, and went aroundwhistling that evening. There must be something more than Christinatroubling him she concluded. And then she began to suspect the truth.Many little incidents helped to confirm her suspicions, and at last sherealised it beyond a doubt. Gavin was craving to be up and away intothe death struggle of the trenches!
The truth broke upon her with a thrill of mingled exultation anddismay. For the three gentle ladies who could not bear to contemplatethe possibility of Gavin's leaving them, were each secretly cherishinga longing to hear him express a desire to be away to the war, thedesire which he was so painfully smothering for their sakes.
Hughie Reid, who was next of kin to the Grant girls, lived on the farmjust below Craig-Ellachie on the road to the village. He was a distantcousin, and a kindly man and the Aunties were always giving his wife ahand with her work and practically kept his boys in socks and mittens.His oldest boys were almost grown to manhood, and Hughie had often saidto Auntie Elspie,
"If Gavin ever wants to quit farming, Elspie, I'll take Craig-Ellachieon shares. I need a bit more land for my stock." And Auntie Elspiehad always laughed at him, saying there was little fear of his evergetting it, for Gavie would never think of anything but the farm. Butthe night when Gavin's heart was laid bare before her, Auntie Elspieremembered Hughie's oft repeated wish and made a great and nobleresolve.
She came to her dismaying conclusion concerning Gavin one evening afterhe had been to town. He was all unconscious of her loving espionageand had no idea that he was betraying himself. A Highland Battalionwas being raised in the County, called the Blue Bonnets. Recruitingagents were going all through the country, and at concert and teameeting the young people sang a gallant old Scottish song transcribedto suit the locality.
"March, March! Dalton and Anondell! Why my lads, dinna ye march forward in order? March, March! Greenwood and Orchard Glen, All the Blue Bonnets are over the Border!"
Gavin had been to Algonquin and had heard it on every side, had seenboys in khaki marching down the street, and worse still, lads in kiltsswinging along, laughing and light-hearted. And he had fled home, interror lest some one accost him and ask him to join them. The liltinglines had set themselves to the jingle of his bells as he drovehomeward, and mile by mile he could hear nothing but
"Trumpets are sounding, war steeds are bounding, Stand to your arms and march in good order. Germans shall many a day tell of the bloody fray When all the Blue Bonnets came over the Border!" "March! March!"...
He was very silent at supper that evening. He made an effort to beespecially kind and attentive, but he could not be merry. He could notchat about his visit to town and the doings there which the Auntieswere all eager to hear. For he had seen nothing but boys in kilts,swinging laughingly down the street, had heard nothing but the pipesand drums lilting "All the Blue Bonnets are over the Border!"
And all the while Auntie Elspie watched him closely, her heart sinking.
When supper was over and they sat around the sitting room stove, AuntieFlora seated herself at the organ, thinking to cheer him.
"Come away, Gavie dear," she cried. "It's a long time since we hadsome music and I'm afraid you'll be forgettin' the fiddle altogether.Come away and we'll have a good old sing."
He could not refuse, but said he would play if she would sing, and thenhe passed over all the old war-like favourites, "A Warrior Bold" and"Scots Wha Hae," and asked instead for songs of peace, "CallerHerrin'," "Ye Banks and Braes," "Silver Threads Among the Gold."
"Sing 'A Warrior Bold' Gavie," cried Auntie Janet, looking up from thesock she was knitting for Burke Wright, "Ye've no sung it for such along, long time."
He made an excuse about not being able to sing it; it was too high forhim.
"Ye haven't got a cold, have you, hinny?" she asked anxiously, and heanswered no, that he was quite well.
Then Auntie Flora, all unconscious, opened all the stops of the littleorgan and burst into Bruce's deathless "Battle Hymn," the welcome toall gallant souls to a gory bed or to victory.
"Play it and sing it both, Gavie!" cried Auntie Janet joining her voicein, "Now's the day, and now's the hour!" But Gavin made a hurriedexcuse about seeing to the cattle, and hastily putting down his violinwent out quickly. Auntie Elspie saw his face as he passed and all herdoubts and with them her hopes vanished. She had suspected before; nowshe knew!
"I thought Gavie did all the chores," said Auntie Flora, looking up asshe finished only the first stanza of the song. Auntie Elspie saidnothing. She bent over the hospital shirt she was sewing, as though tolook for a flaw in her work. She was winking away the tears that hersisters must not see.
She put on an old coat of Gavin's and slipped out after him to the barn.
She found there was little to do. He had recovered his composure, andscolded her lovingly for coming out in the cold. He had a momentarypicture of his Aunts' going out to the stable on sharp nights likethese to feed the cattle and bed the horses, and he tried to believe hewas glad he was not going.
The next day at dinner Auntie Elspie remarked casually that she thoughtshe would take a run over to Hughie's and see if little Elspie wasbetter of her cold, and have a cup of tea with Hughie's wife.
Gavin had an errand to Orchard Glen Mill, and on his way drove her overin the old box sleigh, promising to call for her early on his return.Auntie Janet had a few purchases she wanted him to make at the store inOrchard Glen, and when he had come back from the mill, Gavin tied hishorse and ran into the store.
Marmaduke was sitting tilted back on a chair behind the stove makinglove to Tilly. Life had been but a dreary business for Duke sinceTrooper went to the war. Old Tory Brown and old Willie Henderson, whohad been bitter enemies ever since the disastrous day the Piper tookhis music to the wrong meeting, were sitting waiting for the mail ono
pposite sides of the stove. Mr. Holmes was slowly and carefullyputting the letters and papers into their proper compartments, at theback of the store, looking up over his spectacles as each newcomerentered.
"Hello, Gavin," called Marmaduke, "Cold day. Reg'lar Tory weatherwe're gettin' these days."
"It'd be hot enough times if yous folks and Quebec was runnin' thecountry," remarked old Tory Brown, while Mrs. Holmes, who had come into give a hand at distributing the mail, gave a warning before herdeparture into the house, "Now, Pa, don't let the folks talk politics.It's bad enough to have our boys goin' to the war without havin' war athome."
Tilly ran forward and took Gavin's list and began to put up hisparcels. She stopped to stare out of the frosty window as a smartcutter dashed up to the store veranda. A portly gentleman in theuniform of a Major stepped out of it. He was not an unfamiliar figurein the locality, having been through the country for some time raisingrecruits for The Blue Bonnets. Major Harrison was not very successfulin his dealings with men, but if he had little influence at home he hadplenty at Ottawa and was sure of his position.
"Here comes Lord Kitchener," remarked Marmaduke. "Better take a goodlook at him, Tilly. He'll maybe be goin' to the Front in a year or so,and you won't see him for a while."
Mr. Holmes looked over his glasses, a flash of appreciation in hiseyes. Since Tommy had gone to the Front his father was on the lookoutfor any one who stayed behind under the shelter of a khaki uniform andMajor Harrison was said to belong to that rapidly growing unit.
"Look out, Duke," he warned. "He's a great persuader, he'll have youin The Blue Bonnets before you know what's happened you."
A joyous resolution suddenly shone in Marmaduke's eyes. He quicklyconcealed his peg leg behind a barrel, and leaning back, the picture ofidleness, he drummed on the floor with his one good foot and whistled,"It's a Long Way to Tipperary."
The Major swung open the door and marched in, followed by his bat man.He had been but an indifferent business man on a small salary before hefell upon the fat days of war, but now he had a servant and a positionof authority.
"Good-day, Mr. Holmes," he cried heartily. "Good-day, Miss Tilly,you're looking as lovely as ever, I see."
Tilly gasped and giggled and took refuge in questioning Gavin as towhether it was number forty or fifty white spool his Aunt wanted.
"Good-day, sir," cried Marmaduke heartily, suspending his musicalperformance for a moment. "Glad to see you. Heard you were gone tothe Front. Glad to see it's a false alarm again."
"_But my heart's right there,_" he added tunefully, keeping time on thetop of a barrel with his fingers.
"How's things going in the Army, Major Harrison?" put in Mr. Holmes,seeing the Major looking slightly annoyed.
"The Army's growing," answered the officer, pulling off his gloves andspreading his cold hands over the stove.
"We just need a few more young fellows like you've got hanging roundthis corner, and we'll have the Germans driven back to Berlin inanother month or so."
He looked around him sharply. "This is a war where no young chapthat's got red blood in his veins can stay at home." He glancedmeaningly from Gavin to Marmaduke.
Gavin was one of Marmaduke's warmest friends and he did not enjoy thethought of the Major worrying him. He attempted to draw the fire tohimself.
"Some folks round here claims to have blue blood, though," he remarkedwith a guilelessness that would have misled a German Spy. Heaccomplished his object; the Major looked down at him.
"If their claims are true they won't be here long, my friend," he saidemphatically, but he turned to Gavin again.
"Come along, young man, and let me put you down for The Blue Bonnets.It's the finest Battalion that's going overseas, and we've room foronly a few more. I believe you're Scotch, aren't you? What's yourname?"
"Grant, Gavin Grant."
"Grant! Why, you're the very fellow I'm looking for! Come along andget into a kilt, man. What's a fellow by the name of Grant doing athome when there's a war on? Wouldn't you like to go over and smash theGermans, now?"
Gavin looked at him dumbly. It was as if a lost soul were being askedif it would like to enter Paradise.
"Well, what's keeping you?" asked the Major impatiently.
"I--I can't leave the farm and my Aunts," he stammered.
"Pshaw, you're not tied to your Auntie's apron string, are you? Everyfellow I ask to enlist in this part of the country has got either anaunt or a grandmother or a second cousin----"
"I'm worse off than that," interrupted Marmaduke, seeing that Gavin wasin misery, "I've got a--" His voice dropped to a confidentialwhisper,--"A _girl_!"
The Major looked at him sharply, but Marmaduke was a perfect picture ofrural simplicity.
"You're not married are you?" he asked shortly, glancing at Tilly, whohad forgotten all about Gavin's purchases and was staring at the smartofficer in open-mouthed admiration.
"Well, not,--that is," Duke hesitated in evident painful embarrassment,"well, we're not married yet, but we expect very soon,--" He turned alanguishing look upon Tilly, and indicated her to the Major with a jerkof his thumb over his shoulder. "You wouldn't have a fellow go andleave his girl now, would you?"
Tilly went off into a spasm of hysterical giggles and denials, and theshoulders of the two old men beside the stove began to heave withsuppressed laughter.
"Oh, well, you're not married yet," cried the Major briskly. "You comealong and enlist in our Highland Battalion. What's your name?"
"Timothy O'Toole," said Marmaduke shamelessly, "and I'll go in noHighland gang, I'd nivir do at all at all among them outlandishspalpeens with their bare legs; Tilly wouldn't like it," he addedmodestly.
"Pshaw! Everybody knows that half the Highland regiments in theBritish Army are Irish. Enlist first and you can get married after.Every girl admires the khaki, eh, Miss Holmes?"
Tilly was hanging on to the counter by this time, too far gone to beable to enlighten the Major as to the truth, while her father wasstanding with a bunch of letters in his hand, a pleased smile on hisface. Nobody minded Duke's nonsense and he dearly loved to see thesecity fellows taken down a button hole or two.
"No sir," cried Duke firmly, "no Highland Battalion for me. I'm goin'over wearin' o' the Grane or nothing at all. Besides my Bittalionain't goin' yet for a while. I was askin' some of them high-upofficers in Algonquin and they were tellin' me not to be in any hurry.You see," he added confidingly, "it's this way. You can gettransferred. If you're in a Bittalion that's goin' over you gettransferred to another, and when it goes you get transferred again. Ican let you in on the thing if you'd like to know how they do it," headded with ingratiating generosity.
The Major's face flamed hot. It was no secret that he had been goingthrough the transferring process. Red anger leaped into his eyes.
"Aw, what's the matter with you?" he asked, dropping his suave mannerand becoming abusive. "Are you one of those yellow-livered chapsthat's got chronic cold feet?"
"Well," said Marmaduke ingenuously, "it ain't quite so bad as that.I've got one cold foot though, but I s'pose that wouldn't keep me out.I guess a wooden leg wouldn't matter any more than a wooden head wouldit?" And straight in the air he held his peg leg up to view.
The long pent up amusement of the audience burst forth. The two oldenemies across the stove broke into a simultaneous upheaval, adisturbance that filled up the breach between them with the loose earthof laughter. Mr. Holmes dropped his letters and chuckled loudly, andas for Tilly, she was past giggling, she fairly shouted.
The Major turned and walked out, his face white with anger.
"He's gone to get transferred to the Five-Hundredth," declared TimothyO'Toole joyfully. "I hear that Canada's goin' to send over FiveHundred Battalions and he'll be all ready for the last one."
"Ah, Duke, Duke, you're a rascal," said Mr. Holmes reprovingly.
"It's the only fun I can get out o' this business of stayin' at home,"decla
red Duke, his face growing grave, "and I guess I need all that'scomin' to me with Trooper and the other fellows away fightin' for me!"
Gavin could not join the laughter. He was too deeply hurt. Hegathered up his parcels and hurried away; and once more the bells setthemselves to the tune of "Blue Bonnets" and played "March, March, Why,ma lads, dinna' ye March Forward in Order?" as he drove home.
Auntie Elspie was talking to Hughie Reid in deep conference when Gavinarrived at the farm, and on the way home she was so silent, that he wasworried over her.
"You're not cold, are you, Auntie Elspie?" he asked for the third time,as he tucked the old sheep skin robe around her.
"No, no, lad, I'm not cold," she said, but she shivered as she said it.It was not the blustering February wind that chilled, but the cold handthat seemed closing round her heart, the knowledge that now it waspossible for Gavin to go and that soon she must tell him. She put offthe evil day. She could not tell him to-night, she felt, but perhapson the morrow.
As they were sitting down to their early supper and the February sunsetwas turning all the white fields to a glory of rose and gold, a bigsleigh-load of merry young folk came jingling down the glittering roadand swept past the house with a storm of bell-music. There was a goodWinter road here across their sheltered valley and through the swamp toDalton's Corners and the Orchard Glen Choir was taking its musical waythither. They were singing "It's a Long Way to Tipperary," and AuntieJanet, young as any of them, ran to the door and waved to them, whileBruce and Wallace and Prince and Bonnie bounded out barking madly. ButGavin did not go near the door nor look after them. He suspectedChristina would be there, and most likely Wallace Sutherland and theirgay company was not for him.
"You ought to be going with them, Gavie, lad," cried Auntie Janet,coming in with a rush of fresh air. "Listen, they're singin': 'All theBlue Bonnets are over the Border!' now! Eh, isn't it bonnie?"
Auntie Elspie's loving eyes were watching Gavin, and her sinking hearttold her she must soon do something to put an end to his misery.
He went to his bed early that night, before they could ask him to sing,but he could not sleep. He heard Auntie Janet and Auntie Flora come upthe creaking old stairs together, talking in whispers lest they disturbhim. They shared a room at the end of the hall and Auntie Elspie'sroom was opposite his. It was quite late when finally he heard hercome up to bed. But yet he could not sleep. His window-blind wasrolled to the top and the moonlight flooded his room. Outside thediamond-spangled earth lay still and frost bound. Craig-Ellachie stoodout white, silver-crowned, against the blue of the forest. Gavinraised himself on his elbow and looked out at the silent beauty of thenight. The great white expanse seemed calling to him to come away anddo as his fellow heroes were doing. He ought to be lying in a freezingtrench, grasping a rifle instead of skulking in a feather bed wrappedin warm blankets. But indeed the bed had become a very rack to poorGavin, the blankets smothered him. He tossed from side to side, vainlyseeking relief.
Suddenly he sat up in bed, holding his breath to listen. The greatglittering space of the outdoor world had taken voice and was cryingout against him for not playing the man. From far across the silversheen of the fields, clear and piercing, came the words,
"By oppression's woes and pains, By our sons in servile chains, We will drain our dearest veins But they shall be free! Lay the proud usurper low; Tyrants fall in every foe; Liberty's in every blow; Let us do--or die!"
Gavin sprang from his bed and flung on his clothes madly. He had awild notion that he must run out to the road and shout aloud to theworld that he was coming, coming to the battle-front! When he wasdressed he ran to the window and threw it up and his madness departedfrom him. It was only the gay sleigh-load returning from the Daltontea-meeting. They swept past the house, setting his dogs barkingmadly, and the song died away as they disappeared down the glitteringsilver road. Gavin leaned far out of the window; his burning facestung by the cold air.
"Stand fast, Craig-Ellachie!" he whispered through his clenched teeth.The hot tears came smarting to his eyes, and he suddenly drew back,ashamed of his weakness. He closed the window, remembering even in hismisery to do it quietly so as not to disturb the dear ones who weresleeping. He still knelt on at the window watching the shining trackwhere the song of deathless liberty was fading away.
But there was a pair of loving ears near, that had heard all Gavin'smovements. Auntie Elspie slept in the room opposite his, and eversince the night he had developed the whooping cough she had kept herdoor ajar and that was the reason she knew that her boy had not beensleeping well for many a night. And to-night she lay awake listeningto the incessant creak of his old roped bed, and sharing his misery.She knew she could not bear it much longer, she must rise and tell himhe was free. And then she heard him bounding from his bed, and thenotes of the song as it swept gloriously past and died away.
She rose from her bed and lit the lamp. She dressed herself fully, forshe knew there was no more sleep for her that night. She was tremblingfrom head to foot, and praying for strength to carry out her heavytask. She had something of the feeling of the patriarch when theimperative Voice called, "Take now thy son, thine only son, Isaac, whomthou lovest, and offer him for a burnt offering." She dropped on herknees before her bed. She knelt a long time, and then, strengthened,obedient to the Voice that summons all great souls, she rose and walkedinto Gavin's room.
Gavin was still kneeling by the window when she entered. His hair,touched by the moonlight, was soft and wavy, he looked very young andgrief-stricken. For a moment the vision of him lying wounded andhelpless in a trench, uncared for, shook her brave resolve. A greatlump rose in her throat. She braced herself and said softly, "Gavin,Laddie!"
Gavin leaped to his feet. "Auntie Elspie!" he cried in amazement, hiseyes dazzled by the light, "why, you are dressed! You're not sick?" hecried anxiously, taking the lamp from her hand.
"No, no," she said; "I'm jist all right. Put the lamp down, hinny, Iwant to talk with you." She sat down on the edge of his bed and heplaced the lamp on his high old dresser and came and sat beside herwonderingly.
"I couldn't help hearing you tossing about. You're not sleepin',Gavie, you're worryin', lad."
"No, no, Auntie Elspie," he cried hastily, "I'm all right, I'm notsick. You go back to bed, do. You'll catch cold."
But the woman only gazed at him mournfully. "Eh, eh, hinny, I ken allabout it," she whispered, lapsing into broader Scotch in her agitation."Ye can't hide things from your Auntie Elspie. Ye're wearyin' to beaway to the war, I ken as well as if ye telled me."
There was a wail in her voice that wrung Gavin's heart. "Oh, AuntieElspie," he cried, "oh, no, no! I'll never leave you. I'll not begoing. I'm not wearying. I know what my duty is; and it's here athome with you." He was repeating his assurance incoherently, when shestopped him.
"Gavie, there's no need to tell your Auntie Elspie that you would doall that is in your power for us. I ken you've kept silence all thesemonths for fear of giving us pain. But I've been watching you, and Iguessed what ailed you. And it is what we would have, Gavie. We wouldnot have you want to stay at home while others go to die for us to saveour homes and lives. And indeed it's proud I am this night, even if myheart is sore--sore----"
She broke down a moment, and again Gavin firmly declared his decision.He could not deny he wanted to go to the Front he confessed, but maybeit was just a foolish love of adventure and it did not interfere withthe fact that he was needed at home.
"So I'll jist stay here, Auntie Elspie," he repeated, "I am neededhere, and I would be ashamed to turn my back on you. I couldn't behappy knowing you needed me, and I wasn't here to take care of you all."
And so they argued the matter far into the night, Auntie Elspieinsisting that he should go, and the boy declaring that he would not.She was reinforced shortly by her sisters. Auntie Flora had heard thelow rumble of voices and had seen the light in Gavin's room. Shewakened
Janet, and fearing that Gavin's strange conduct had culminatedin an attack of some real illness, the two anxious old ladies hurriedlyflung on some clothes and went down the hall to Gavin's room. Andthere they found a strange scene, Elspie urging Gavin to enlist, andGavin holding back and declaring that nothing would induce him to go tothe war!
It was the look in his two younger Aunts' eyes, when the case wasexplained to them, that first shook Gavin's resolution. Auntie Florastood up tall and stately, and her face flushed proudly as she turnedto Janet. "What did I tell ye!" she cried triumphantly, "I knew hewanted to go!" And Auntie Janet burst into tears, and hiding her facein the old shawl she had thrown round her shoulders she sobbed, "Aye,and I said it, too. I knew ye couldn't be the kind that would want tostay at home, Gavie." And Gavin comforted them in a state ofspeechless wonder. It appeared that after all they had been waitingfor him to express a desire to go and that their pride was quite equalto their grief!
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