"Two such old friends, and comrades, and brothers-at-arms! It does seem melancholy that they should have been separated. Margot says the two wives—our mother and Mrs. Tracy—did all they could to smooth matters. But it was no use. Colonel Tracy had behaved so very badly to father, and he never would say one word of apology."
"So for years and years they kept apart. Colonel Tracy exchanged into another regiment, and my father quite lost sight of him. It wasn't till after we came to live here that he saw the death of Mrs. Tracy in the paper, and so learnt Colonel Tracy's London address. That was close upon Christmas; and he sent the card as a peace-offering. He could not tell if the Colonel was willing to be friendly again; and of course the first move ought really to have been Colonel Tracy's; but still, he put that aside, and did what he could. So like the dear father, I think he wrote just a word inside the envelope about 'remembrance' and 'sympathy.'
"No answer came at all; and Margot says he was very much hurt and disappointed. But when a whole year had gone by, and Christmas Day came round again, the very same card arrived by the morning post, addressed to father in Colonel Tracy's handwriting."
"It was an odd way of meeting his kindness, I think; but Margot says my father took it kindly. He wasn't offended, but said he would keep the card, and send it again next year. So he did; and the next year after it was returned."
"That has gone on ever since, year after year. Colonel Tracy sent some address once which would always find him—his banker, Margot believes—and there hasn't been a word said besides. Only the card coming and going."
"This year it has failed for the first time, and father looks so mournful. Margot is sure he feels very much disappointed. She says he has always hoped that in the end the quarrel would somehow be made up; and now things look as if Colonel Tracy didn't care for the old friendship."
"Dec. 31st."
"It is all explained. Colonel Tracy is in trouble, and he has been ill for some days; so the card was forgotten. I do think dear father is the very best of men!"
"We were in the morning-room before lunch, when father came hurrying through the glass door, in a great state of excitement. I don't know when I have seen him so excited. He was holding up a card in one hand and a letter in the other; and he talked so fast, that none of us could make out at first what it was all about."
"Mother said in her gentle way, 'My dear, sit down and tell us quietly;' and my father sat down as she told him. Then he laughed, and very nearly cried too. Mother patted his hand, and I crept on his knee. I haven't quite left that off yet."