Wee Macgreegor Enlists
Page 5
V
IN UNIFORM
There happened to be a little delay in providing the later batchesof recruits with the garb proper to their battalion, and it was theMonday of their third week in training when PrivatesRobinson--otherwise Macgregor--and Thomson saw themselves for thefirst time in the glory of the kilt. Their dismay would doubtlesshave been overwhelming had they been alone in that glory; even withnumerous comrades in similar distress they displayed muchawkwardness and self-consciousness. During drill Willie receivedseveral cautions against standing in a semi-sitting attitude, andMacgregor, in his anxiety to avoid his friend's error, made himselfridiculous by standing on his toes, with outstretched neck andfixed, unhappy stare.
As if to intensify the situation, the leave for which they hadapplied a few days previously was unexpectedly granted for thatevening. Before he realized what he was saying, Macgregor hadinquired whether he might go without his kilt. Perhaps he was notthe first recruit to put it that way. Anyway, the reply was a curt'I don't think.'
'I believe ye're ashamed o' the uniform,' said Willie, disagreeableunder his own disappointment at the verdict.
'Say it again!' snapped Macgregor.
Willie ignored the invitation, and swore by the great god Jingsthat he would assuredly wear breeks unless something happened. Theonly thing that may be said to have happened was that he did notwear breeks.
As a matter of fact, Macgregor, with his sturdy figure, carried hiskilt rather well. The lanky William, however, gave the impressionthat he was growing out of it perceptibly, yet inevitably.
Four o'clock saw them started on their way, and with every stepfrom the camp, which now seemed a lost refuge, their kilts feltshorter, their legs longer, their knees larger, their personsmaller. Conversation soon dried up. Willie whistled tunelesslythrough his teeth; Macgregor kept his jaw set and occasionally andinadvertently kicked a loose stone. Down on the main road anelectric car bound for Glasgow hove in sight. Simultaneously theystarted to run. After a few paces they pulled up, as thoughsuddenly conscious of unseemliness, and resumed their soberpace--and lost the car.
They boarded the next, having sacrificed twelve precious minutes oftheir leave. Of course, they would never have dreamed oftravelling 'inside'--and yet . . . They ascended as gingerly asa pretty girl aware of ungainly ankles surmounts a stile. Arrivedsafely on the roof, they sat down and puffed each a long breathsuggestive of grave peril overcome. They covered their knees asfar as they could and as surreptitiously as possible.
Presently, with the help of cigarettes, which they smokedindustriously, they began to revive. Their lips were unsealed,though conversation could not be said to gush. They did their bestto look like veterans. An old woman smiled rather sadly, but verykindly, in their direction, and Macgregor reddened, while Williespat in defiance of the displayed regulation.
As the journey proceeded, their talk dwindled. It was after a longpause that Willie said:
'Ye'll be for hame as sune as we get to Glesca--eh?'
'Ay. . . . An' you'll be for yer aunt's--eh?'
'Ay,' Willie sighed, and lowering his voice, said: 'What'll ye daeif they laugh at ye?'
'They'll no laugh,' Macgregor replied, some indignation in hisassurance.
'H'm! . . . Maybe _she'll_ laugh at ye.'
'Nae fears!' But the confident tone was overdone. Macgregor,after all, was not quite sure about Christina. She laughed at somany things. He was to meet her at seven, and of late he had lostsleep wondering how she would receive his first appearance in thekilt. He dreaded her chaff more than any horrors of war that laybefore him.
'Aw, she'll laugh, sure enough,' croaked Willie. 'I wud ha'enaething to dae wi' the weemen if I was you. Ye canna trust them,'added this misogynist of twenty summers.
Macgregor took hold of himself. 'What'll ye dae if yer auntlaughs?' he quietly demanded.
'Her? Gor! I never heard her laugh yet--excep' in her sleep eftereatin' a crab. But by Jings, if she laughs at me, I--I'll gang ootan' ha'e a beer!'
'But ye've ta'en the pledge.'
'To ----! I forgot aboot that. Weel, I--I'll wait an' see whatshe's got in for the tea first. . . . But she _canna_ laugh. I'llbet ye a packet o' fags she greets.'
'I'll tak' ye on!'
It may be said at once that the wager was never decided, for thesimple reason that when the time came Willie refused allinformation--including the fact that his aunt had kissed him.Which is not, alas, to say that his future references to her wereto be more respectful than formerly.
* * * * *
At three minutes before seven Macgregor stood outside Miss Tod'slittle shop, waiting for the departure of a customer. It would beabsurd to say that his knees shook, but it is a fact that hisspirit trembled. Suspended from a finger of his left hand was asmall package of Christina's favourite sweets, which unconsciouslyhe kept spinning all the time. His right hand was chiefly occupiedin feeling for a pocket which no longer existed, and then trying tolook as if it had been doing something entirely different. Hewished the customer would 'hurry up'; yet when she emerged at last,he was not ready. He was miserably, desperately afraid ofChristina's smile, and just as miserably, desperately desirous tosee it again.
Solemnly seven began to toll from a church tower. He pulledhimself up. After all, why should she laugh? And if shedid--well. . . .
Bracing himself, he strode forward, grasped the rattling handle andpushed. The little signal bell above the door went off with amonstrous 'ding' that rang through his spine, and in a condition offeverish moistness he entered, and, halting a pace within, saw inblurred fashion, and seemingly at a great distance, the loveliestthing he knew.
Christina did smile, but it was upon, not at, him. And she saidlightly, and by no means unkindly:
'Hullo, Mac! . . . Ye've had yer hair cut.'
From sheer relief after the long strain, something was bound togive way. The string on his finger snapped and the package,reaching the floor, gaily exploded.