"Well, there is one. Tell him to stop at the Granville."
"Yessir."
The Major resumed his bland conversation. At Putney they saw the first contents-bill of the afternoon papers.
"How do you think things are going, sir?" George asked.
"It's very difficult to say," answered the Major. "This Mons business is serious."
"Yes, sir."
The discovery of the rope-shop involved a policeman's aid. When the rope had been purchased and new silver brought forth from the bag, and the receipt made out, and the item struck off and the amount entered, and the bus had started again, George perceived that he would soon be passing the end of Elm Park Gardens. Dared he ask the Major to deflect the bus into Elm Park Road so that he might obtain news of Lois? He dared not. The scheme, simple and feasible enough, was nevertheless unthinkable. The bus, with 'Liverpool Street' inscribed on its forehead, rolled its straight inevitable course along Fulham Road, pursued by the disappointed glances of gesturing wayfarers who wanted it to take them to Liverpool Street.
After about two hours of fine confused shopping the Major stopped his bus at a Tube station in the north of London.
"I mustn't forget my pens," said he. "I have to spend three-quarters of my time mewed up in the office, and I don't grumble; but I'm very particular about nibs, and if I don't have my own I cannot work. It's useless to expect it."
Then to the soldier:
"Hall! You go down to Partridge & Cooper's, at the corner of Chancery Lane and Fleet Street, and buy a sixpenny box of their 'No. 6 Velvet'
pen-nibs. You understand: 'No. 6 Velvet.'"
"Yessir. With the bus, sir?"
"With the bus. Here's sixpence." He took a coin out of the bag, locked it, and gave the key to George. "And keep an eye on this bag, my boy.
You will then come back and wait for us--let me see--outside Piccadilly Tube Station in Jermyn Street."
"Yessir."
The Major and George entered the North London station and proceeded to the lift.
"Tickets!" demanded the lift-man.
The Major halted and gazed at him.
"On service!" said the Major, with resentment and disdain. "A fortnight ago you civilians were raising your hats to us. Now you ask us for tickets! Haven't you grasped yet that there's a war on? Don't you think you'd look better in khaki?" He showed excitement, as at every personal encounter.
The lift-man bowed his head, inarticulately muttering, and the officers passed into the lift, having created a certain amount of interest among the other passengers. The Major was tranquillized in a moment. They came to the surface again at Piccadilly Circus, where at the lift a similar scene occurred.
"Do you know anything about pyjamas?" said the Major.
"Well, sir--"
"I never wear them myself. I'm rather old-fashioned. But I have to buy three pairs--suits for Colonel Hullocher--at Swan & Edgar's. Oh! Bother it! Have you any money? I forgot to take some out of the bag."
The Major purchased the pyjamas with George's money, and his attitude towards the shopman during the transaction was defiant, indicating to the shopman that, though personally he, the Major, never wore pyjamas, he was an expert in pyjamas and not to be gulled. George took the resulting parcel and the receipted bill, and they walked across to Jermyn Street, where surely the bus, with the sixpenny box of pens, was waiting for them. It was perfectly magical. As the vehicle swung with them into the Circus the Major exclaimed:
"We're getting on very well. What do you say to some tea?"
"Certainly, sir."
The bus, having stopped by order at the second tea-house on the left in Piccadilly, was immediately assaulted, without success, by several would-be passengers. A policeman, outraged by the spectacle of a bus stationary at a spot where buses are absolutely forbidden to be stationary, hurried forward in fury. But the Major, instantly excited, was ready for him.
"This motor-bus is a military vehicle on service, and I'll thank you to mind your own business. If you've any complaints to make, you'd better make them to Lord Kitchener."
The policeman touched his hat.
"They have music here," said the Major mildly, entering the tea-house.
"I always like music. Makes things so much jollier, doesn't it?"
During tea the Major inquired about George's individual circumstances, and George said that he was an architect.
"Student of bricks and mortar, eh?" said the Major benevolently. "How long have you been in the Army?"
"Rather less than half a day, sir."
The Major, raising his eyebrows, was very interested and kind.
Perceiving that he had virgin material under his hands, he began to shape the material, and talked much about the niceties of the etiquette of saluting. George listened, yet at intervals his attention would wander, and he would be in Elm Park Road. But the illusion of home was very faint. His wife and family seemed to be slipping away from him.
"How is it," he thought, "that I am not more upset about Lois than I am?" The various professional and family matters which in his haste he had left unsettled were diminishing hourly in their apparent importance.
He came back to the tea-house with a start, hearing the Major praise his business capacity as displayed during the afternoon. The friendly aspect of the thin, pallid face inspired him with a sort of emotional audacity, and in ten words he suddenly informed the Major of his domestic situation.
"H'm!" said the Major. "I'm a bachelor myself."
There was a pause.
"I'll give you a tip," said the Major, resuming the interrupted topic.
"War is a business. The more business capacity you have, the more likely you are to succeed. I'm a business man myself."
On leaving the tea-house they discovered the military vehicle surrounded by an enchanted multitude who were staring through its windows at the merchandise--blankets, pans, kettles, saddles, ropes, parcels, stoves, baskets, and box of nibs--within, while the policeman strove in vain to keep both the road and the pavement clear. George preceded the Major, pushing aside with haughty military impatience the civilians so reluctant to move. He felt as though he had been in the Army for years.
No longer did his uniform cause him the slightest self-consciousness.
At Wimbledon in the dusk the bus was met by several military wagons each from a different unit, and each anxious to obtain goods. This piece of organization rather impressed George.
"Well, my boy," said the Major, "you'd better go and report yourself.
You've been a great help to me."
George saluted according to the Major's own doctrine, and departed. At Battery Headquarters he met Captain Resmith.
"How did you get on with Auntie?" asked Resmith in his loud, firm voice.
George winked.
Resmith gave a scarcely perceptible smile.
"Look here," he said. "I'm just going round the horse-lines. If you'll come with me I'll show you a thing or two, and we can choose a mount for you. Then after dinner if you like I'll take you through the orders for to-morrow. By the way, there's a telegram for you."
The telegram read:
"Girl. Everything fairly satisfactory. Don't worry too much. Laurencine sleeps here.--NUNKS"