"No," I explained. "We've just met him." Then, thinking it would be silly to make any mystery about all this, I explained about Colonel Fielding being our landlord in London, and I mentioned the business letters about breakages and drains.
"And we're to hear him sing, are we?" I concluded—and again Sergeant Syd enlarged upon what a treat it would be for anybody who liked good music.
"Oh, but I don't know anything about 'good' music," said Elizabeth, carelessly.
We went on, leaving that picturesque group of Land-girl and soldier by that gate in the hedge.
Presently I found myself thinking of the way Colonel Fielding's delicate fair face had lighted up at the sight of Elizabeth, sturdy and muddy and sweet, in the mangold-field.
How obviously he had admired that sight!
He was probably looking forward to seeing it again. Poor wretched young man! For if he imagined that my boyish, independent, man-hating little chum would have a word for him at that concert—whatever he sang like—a bitter disappointment was in store for him, thought I. I had seen Elizabeth before, when men had been attracted. Prickly as a hedgehog she had become in the twinkling of an eye!
While I was thus musing, she was gazing above the hedge at the hills in the gloaming, purple against a primrose belt of sky. A heavenly evening! No wonder Elizabeth wanted to drink in the beauty of country and sky rather than to talk. I felt as she did.
Suddenly Elizabeth spoke, in a matter of fact tone that sounded as if she had just dragged herself back into the life of every day.
"That concert," she said, "won't be bad fun."