And he walked manfully out of the shop. Before he could find himself, a superb serjeant-major strode up, saluted in the highest and strictest perfection, and passed. The encounter was unfortunate. George, taken aback, muddled his share of the rite. Further, the self-consciousness of the potential Vice-President of the Royal Institute of British Architects was so extreme in uniform that it could scarcely have been more extreme had he been thrust by destiny into Oxford Street naked. He returned to the shop and said:
"I think I'll take everything home myself, to make sure. You might get me a taxi."
He crept into his own house furtively with his parcels, like a criminal, though he well knew that the servants would be ready to worship him as a new god. The children were evidently out. Lois was not in the drawing-room. He ran to the bedroom. She lay on the sofa.
"Here I am!" he announced, posing bravely for her inspection.
She did not move for a few seconds. Her eyes were hard-set. Then she gave a tremendous shattering sob, and burst into wild tears. George stooped to pick up a telegram which was lying on the floor. It read:
"You are to report to Adjutant Headquarters Second First West Midland R.F.A. Wimbledon to-morrow Tuesday before noon."
The Army had not forgotten him. Throughout the week his name upon various forms had been under the eye of authority, and at last the order had gone forth.
III
The next morning, after a disturbed night, Lois was taken ill. George telephoned for the doctor, and as soon as he had seen the patient the doctor telephoned for the nurse, and as soon as the doctor had telephoned for the nurse George telephoned for Laurencine. What with George's uniform and approaching departure, and the premature seizure of Lois, the household had, in an exceedingly short time, reached a state of intense excitement and inefficiency. Nurse was with Lois; the children were with cook in the kitchen; the other two servants were noisily and vaguely active on the stairs and the landings. The breakfast had been very badly cooked; the newspapers, with a detailed description of the retreat from Mons, were not glanced at. George was expecting a letter from his mother concerning the arrangements for the visit of Lois and the children to Ladderedge, already decided upon, and no letter had come.
At half-past ten he sent the parlourmaid to get a taxi. Having inspected his luggage in the hall, he went to the telephone again and ascertained that Laurencine had actually started from home. Almost at the same moment a taxi stopped in front of the house. "She's been jolly quick,"
thought George, meaning the parlourmaid; but going to the window he saw that his stepfather and his mother were in the taxi. He did not rush out to them. He did not move. The comfortable sense of the perfect reliability and benevolence of his 'people' filled and warmed him. They had not written again; they had just come themselves.
He affectionately and critically watched them as they got out of the taxi. Alderman Edwin Clayhanger, undeniably stout, with grey hair and beard, was passing from middle-age into the shadow of the sixties. He dressed well, but the flat crown of his felt hat, and the artificial, exaggerated squareness of the broad shoulders, gave him a provincial appearance. His gesture as he paid the driver was absolutely characteristic--a mixture of the dignified and the boyish, the impressive and the timid. He had descended from the vehicle with precautions, but Mrs. Clayhanger jumped down lightly, though she was about as old and as grey as her husband. Her costume was not successful; she did not understand and never had understood how to dress herself.
But she had kept her figure; she was as slim as a girl, and as restless.
George ran to the door, which the feverish parlourmaid had neglected to shut. His mother, mounting the steps, was struck full in the face by the apparition of her son in uniform. The Alderman, behind her, cried mockingly to cover his emotion: "Hal_lo_! Hal_lo_!"
"When did you come up?" asked George quietly, taking his mother's hand and kissing her. She slid past him into the house. Her eyes were moist.
"Last night," the Alderman answered. "Last train. Your mother's idea.
All of a sudden. Thought you might be leaving."
"Well, I am," said George. "I have to report at Headquarters at Wimbledon by twelve o'clock. It's rather a good thing you've come. Lois is ill. Oh! Here's _my_ taxi." The parlourmaid had driven up.
"Ill!" exclaimed Mrs. Clayhanger.
"Yes. I've sent for the doctor, and he's sent for the nurse. I'm expecting the nurse every minute."
"You don't mean to say--" Mrs. Clayhanger began.
George nodded.
"She _must_ have had a shock. I knew what it would be for her. It's all very well, but--" Mrs. Clayhanger again left a sentence unfinished.
"I've sent for Laurencine too," said George. "She also may be here any minute."
"Oh!" said the old lady tartly. "I can stay as long as you like, you know. Lois and I get on splendidly."
It was true. They had had one enormous quarrel, which had mysteriously ended by both of them denying superiorly to all males that any quarrel had ever occurred.
"Well, come into the dining-room."
"I think I'll go up and see Lois at once," said Mrs. Clayhanger.
"The doctor's there."
"What if he is?"
The Alderman put in:
"Now look here, missis. Don't startle her."
Mrs. Clayhanger exhaled impatient scorn and went upstairs.
"This your stuff?" the Alderman questioned, pointing with his stick to the kit-bag and strange packages on the hall floor.
"Yes," said George, and to the parlourmaid: "You can put it all in the taxi, May. Come along in, uncle."
"Don't hurry me, boy. Don't hurry me."
"Where are you staying?"
"Russell ... Bit awkward, this about Lois!"
They were now within the dining-room.
"Yes." In the presence and under the influence of his people George at once ceased to be an expansive Londoner, and reverted to the character of the Five Towns.
"I suppose she'll be all _right_?"
"Doctor seems to think so."
"Yes. They generally are." The Alderman sighed pleasantly and dropped rather heavily into a chair.
"Have a cigarette?"
"No!" The Alderman refused regretfully. "I've got a new rule now. I don't smoke till after dinner."
There was a pause.
"I'm glad we came."
"So'm I."
"You needn't worry about anything. Your mother and I will see to everything. I'll go up and have a talk with Johnnie about the leases."
"Thanks."
"What about money?"