Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-06-03
MXkJ0URNEY,S End |
nm ~ &c Shet1zf07d Vernon Bartlett
CONTINUED From Yesterdays starr

Continued From Yesterdays Starr
"I know, sir, Butt thought per-
haps-nobody else would suffer if was
posted" He stopped.
I'm afraid l must treat every one
exactly alike. 1 can't make exceptions.
just because you happen to be nephew
you see what I mean?"
"Quite, sir"
The general held out his hand and
smiled. We'll, good night. expect
you're sleepy"
Eyes, sir
did those crocuses come to any
thing9"
mo. sir, not much"
81 told your father he set 'em too
deep. Well, good night. Had some
supper"
Eyes. sir"
Right" He nodded and smiled to
Raleigh rs he relit his pipe.
1t was on the following afternoon
that note arrived for Raleigh. It said
that he was to proceed by the 8 o'clock
train next morning from "B" siding to
join his battalion-the battalion he had
so carefully told his uncle of the pre-
svious night. Dennis battalion. He
read the roughly printed form with its
scrawled, inked-in particulars again and
again A sudden desire came to go to
Uncle Vincent's Office and kiss the
old fellow. He kicked himself for being
ridiculous, and went into the mess
for tea.
CHAPTER XI.
~ SBORNE glanced at his watch,
gave little sigh, and took
last look at the garden of his
~ billet. Although it was not yet
the end of March, there was
q Spriinglike feeling in the air that
came in through the open window, anu
the old man who owned the cottage
drove his spade easily into the damp
earth. Osborne envied the old French
man, despite his bent back and gnarled
hands and arms. His face was the color
of sun-baked soil. For him the war,
rumbling away day and night to the
East, was no more to be feared than
Summer thunder Occasionally bomb
had dropped In a neighboring field, and
one of his cows had been killed by
clumsy recruit from England during
bombing practice But the thunder
that muttered and growled on Summer
evenings might at any time lead to a
storm which would fatten out his corn
or destroy his hay, while the most
direct effect of the war was the constant
stream of British soldiers with their
odd ways and their welcome readiness
to buy fruit, milk, wine or beer at
prices which made the old man shake
his head with awe.
Osborne watching him at his steady
patient work, thought longingly of his
own garden at home. Already the bulbs
would be coming up, and the lilac bush
near the gate to the playing fields
would be in bud. The little devils would
still scramble up the wall to tear down
twigs and branches. He was man
of even temper-eXceptionall so, even
for a schoolmaster-but this blind,
stupid destruction of growing things
had always made him angry. And yet,
as long as Broomhill School exiSted-it
might not be very long, since Temple
ton, who had taken the place over, was
not doing very well, and in any case
the future of private schools had be-
come so uncertain during the war-but
as long as Broomhill existed, little
scamps would climb on each others
shoulders to tear down the lilac that
hung over the playground wall.
Sometimes, early in. the morning be-
fore the thin birdlike chatter began
from the dormitorieS, Osborne, crossing
the playground on his way back from
the boys swimming pool, had stopped
to- look at that little tree, with its rich
purple blossom dropping down against
the white wall of the playground. 1t
no applicable reason, remained always
clear and fresh in his memory. The
destruction of beauty struck him as
more lamentable now than it had done
before August, 1914: but he no longer
had it in him TO grow angry with
thoughtleSs, small boys who broke on
twigs of scented lilac-how could one
reproach them in face of this immense
and organized destruction OF war? IN
deed, as he thought of the youngsters
who had been placed at one time or
another under his control at Broomhill,
n faint smile lifted the corners OF
Osborne's mouth. To be headmaster
Of q smallish private school had not
been his ambition when he had come
down from oxford, but the existence
of q delicate, widowed mother and an
unmarried sister had made him hesitate
before those risks which might have
made of him a figure in the world, but
which might, equally, have prevented
him from contributing so large share
to the expenses of his mothers small
household. Then had come his own
marriage to counsel prudence. But the
school had been good fun; and very well
worth while.
In the garden the old French peasant
continued his steady digging. A thrush
hoped about boldly almost at his feet,
convinced that all this earth was being
turned up solely for its own benefit.
With another little sigh, Osborne strap
ped mp his pack and went out into the
village street.
In the next billet, . half-ruined
estaminet which, despite its discomfort,
was the most sought-after billet for
miles around because Angelo lived there,
HILBERT, Trotter, the medical officer,
and two subalterns over from neigh
borning battalion, sat playing vingt-et-
un. Three empty bottles of sweet
champagne stood on chair near the
table. Nobody liked the stuff. but it
had become almost tradition to drink
"hubbly' before they went up the line
to the trenches again. The room was
bare, and not very clean, for Angelo
and her mother knew that the billet
was popular whatever the quantity Of
dirt in 1t, and they spent much time,
that might have been devoted to sweep
ing or securing. at the knitting machine