Suddenly remembering Alan, who stood silently watching this scene, to him somewhat incomprehensible, General Gordon broke off to say:
“Bob, ask your friend to excuse my bad manners. What is your name, Captain?”
“Alan Leslie, Cousin James, so please you,” replied Alan, his eyes twinkling with a childish, never-failing love of surprising people. “There’s no limit to what Bob can bring home with him.”
After this meeting only a few hours elapsed before General Gordon took his son out to Badheim hospital, where Bob was expected to complete his convalescence. The long, tedious journey from Archangel, especially the day spent in Berlin, had set him back more than he liked to admit, and he foresaw that active duty would have to be postponed a few weeks longer. Alan, likewise, found his leg and foot very painful and willingly enough accepted an American surgeon’s advice to delay his departure to England.
“Now that I know I’m sure to get there, I can be patient,” he said to Bob, all his old, care-free spirits restored at the near approach of home and freedom. “It won’t be half bad to stay on a bit with you, and, besides, I’d like to see your sister. Arthur’s always talking about her. When you all come back to England to stop with us I don’t want to be the only one of the family who doesn’t know her.”
There were more introductions to be made at Badheim hospital, when Lucy had got over her first delight at seeing Bob so nearly well and at actually having him there in her charge. A few gay words from Alan’s careless lips swept away the momentary seriousness that fell upon her in her boundless gratitude at Bob’s return. She presented her brother and Alan to Armand and Michelle, a thrill of pleasure warming her from all the sad misgivings of past days.
Bob had to describe Elizabeth’s reappearance and all that followed. Lucy could not curb her impatience long to hear the whole of her brother’s adventures since the unlucky twenty-third of December—or so Bob accounted it, thinking regretfully of Rittermann still flying free. Lucy inwardly rejoiced at the disaster that had brought him out of the frozen North. In less than a day she had gleaned from him the greater part of the happenings of the past two months. Also, not strange to anyone who knew the extent of Bob’s and Lucy’s confidence, she had told him of her selfish repinings at the delayed return to America, and as many incidents as she had time for of the daily life at the little hospital buried in the forest.
In the midst of one of these conversations, as Bob lay back in solid comfort on a long chair by a window overlooking the clearing, Lucy started up at seeing a well-known figure mount the hospital steps.
“Oh, Bob, look—it’s Larry.”
Bob was out of his chair in a second and, unmindful of Lucy’s cautions, made for the door and met his friend on the threshold.