Echoes of the War - The Original Classic Edition. Barrie J

like this before that woman took him in hand.

       He whirls round on her. 'What made you do it?'

       'It was everybody's war, mister, except mine.' She beats her arms. 'I wanted it to be my war too.'

       'You'll need to be plainer. And yet I'm d----d if I care to hear you, you lying old trickster.'

       The words are merely what were to be expected, and so are endurable; but he has moved towards the door.

       'You're not going already, mister?'

       'Yes, I just came to give you an ugly piece of my mind.'

       She holds out her arms longingly. 'You haven't gave it to me yet.'

       'You have a cheek!'

       She gives further proof of it. 'You wouldn't drink some tea?'

       'Me! I tell you I came here for the one purpose of blazing away at you.'

       It is such a roaring negative that it blows her into a chair. But she is up again in a moment, is this spirited old lady. 'You could drink the tea while you was blazing away. There's winkles.'

       'Is there?' He turns interestedly towards the table, but his proud Scots character checks him, which is just as well, for what she should have said was that there had been winkles. 'Not me. You're just a common rogue.' He seats himself far from the table. 'Now, then,

       out with it. Sit down!' She sits meekly; there is nothing she would not do for him. 'As you char, I suppose you are on your feet all day.'

       'I'm more on my knees.'

       'That's where you should be to me.'

       'Oh, mister, I'm willing.'

       'Stop it. Go on, you accomplished liar.'

       'It's true that my name is Dowey.'

       'It's enough to make me change mine.'

       'I've been charring and charring and charring as far back as I mind. I've been in London this twenty years.'

       'We'll skip your early days. I have an appointment.'

       9

       'And then when I was old the war broke out.'

       'How could it affect you?'

       'Oh, mister, that's the thing. It didn't affect me. It affected everybody but me. The neighbours looked down on me. Even the posters,

       on the walls, of the woman saying, "Go, my boy," leered at me. I sometimes cried by myself in the dark. You won't have a cup of

       tea?'

       'No.'

       'Sudden like the idea came to me to pretend I had a son.'

       'You depraved old limmer! But what in the name of Old Nick made you choose me out of the whole British Army?'

       Mrs. Dowey giggles. There is little doubt that in her youth she was an accomplished flirt. 'Maybe, mister, it was because I liked you

       best.'

       'Now, now, woman.'

       'I read one day in the papers, "In which, he was assisted by Private K. Dowey, 5th Battalion, Black Watch."' Private K. Dowey is flattered, 'Did you, now! Well, I expect that's the only time I was ever in the papers.'

       Mrs. Dowey tries it on again, 'I didn't choose you for that alone. I read a history of the Black Watch first, to make sure it was the best

       regiment in the world.'

       'Anybody could have told you that.' He is moving about now in better humour, and, meeting the loaf in his stride, he cuts a slice from it. He is hardly aware of this, but Mrs. Dowey knows. 'I like the Scotch voice of you, woman. It drummles on like a hill burn.'

       'Prosen Water runs by where I was born.' Flirting again, 'May be it teached me to speak, mister.'

       'Canny, woman, canny.'

       'I read about the Black Watch's ghostly piper that plays proudly when the men of the Black Watch do well, and prouder when they fall.'

       'There's some foolish story of that kind.' He has another careless slice off the loaf. 'But you couldn't have been living here at that

       time or they would have guessed. I suppose you flitted?'

       'Yes, it cost me eleven and sixpence.'

       'How did you guess the K in my name stood for Kenneth?'

       'Does it?'

       'Umpha.'

       'An angel whispered it to me in my sleep.'

       'Well, that's the only angel in the whole black business.' He chuckles.

       'You little thought I would turn up!' Wheeling suddenly on her. 'Or did you?'

       'I was beginning to weary for a sight of you, Kenneth.'

       'What word was that?'

       10

       'Mister.'

       He helps himself to butter, and she holds out the jam pot to him, but he haughtily rejects it. Do you think she gives in now? Not a bit of it.

       He returns to sarcasm, 'I hope you're pleased with me now you see me.'

       'I'm very pleased. Does your folk live in Scotland?'

       'Glasgow.'

       'Both living?'

       'Ay.'

       'Is your mother terrible proud of you?'

       'Naturally.'

       'You'll be going to them?'

       'After I've had a skite in London first.'

       The old lady sniffs, 'So she is in London!'

       'Who?'

       'Your young lady.'

       'Are you jealyous?'

       'Not me.'

       'You needna be. She's a young thing.'

       'You surprises me. A beauty, no doubt?'

       'You may be sure.' He tries the jam. 'She's a titled person. She is equally popular as maid, wife and munition-worker.'

       Mrs. Dowey remembers Lady Dolly Kanister, so familiar to readers of fashionable gossip, and a very leery expression indeed comes

       into her face.

       'Tell me more about her, man.'

       'She has sent me a lot of things, especially cakes, and a worsted waistcoat, with a loving message on the enclosed card.' The old lady is now in a quiver of excitement. She loses control of her arms, which jump excitedly this way and that.

       'You'll try one of my cakes, mister?'

       'Not me.'

       'They're of my own making.'

       'No, I thank you.'

       But with a funny little run she is in the pantry and back again. She planks down a cake before him, at sight of which he gapes.

       11

       'What's the matter? Tell me, oh, tell me, mister.'

       'That's exactly the kind of cake that her ladyship sends me.' Mrs. Dowey is now a very glorious old character indeed.

       'Is the waistcoat right, mister? I hope the Black Watch colours pleased you.'

       'Wha----t! Was it you?'

       'I daredna give my own name, you see, and I was always reading hers in the papers.' The badgered man looms over her, terrible for the last time.

       'Woman, is there no getting rid of you!'

       'Are you angry?'

       He sits down with a groan.

       'Oh, hell! Give me some tea.'

       She rushes about preparing a meal for him, every bit of her wanting to cry out to every other bit, 'Oh, glory, glory, glory!' For a mo-ment she hovers behind his chair. 'Kenneth'! she murmurs. 'What?' he asks, no longer aware that she is taking a liberty. 'Nothing,' she says, 'just Kenneth,' and is off gleefully for the tea-caddy. But when his tea is poured