“Never mind the salts, mother,” said Rolph, boisterously; “sugar has done it. I’ve quite brought Madge to—haven’t I, pussy?”
“Oh, Rob, dearest,” cried Madge, hiding her face upon his breast, and shuddering slightly as she nestled there, as if a cold breath of wind had passed over to threaten the blasting of her budding hopes.
“It’s all right, mother, and—there as soon as you like. Come, little wifey to be, begin your duties at once. Big strong husbands want plenty of food when they are not training. They are like the lawyers who need refreshers. I’m choking for a pint of Bass. No, no, mother; let her ring. Satisfied?”
“Rob, my darling, you’ve made me a happy woman at last—so proud, so very proud of my darling son.”
“All right,” cried Rolph, gruffly; “but, look here, I’m not going to figure at Brackley over a business like this. I’m off back to barracks.”
“So soon, Rob,” cried Madge, and the scared look came into her eyes again, as she involuntarily glanced at the window as if expecting to see Caleb Kent peering in.
“Madge, my darling! Look at her, Rob.”
“Bah! what a cowardly, nervous little puss it is,” cried Rolph, taking her in his arms, and she clung to him sobbing hysterically. “Look here, mother; you’d better take a house, or furnished apartments in town at once, and we’ll get the business done there. Madge is afraid of bogies. Weak and hysterical, and that sort of thing. Get her away; the place is dull, and the poachers are hanging about here a good deal.”
Marjorie uttered a faint shriek which was perfectly real.
“Take us away at once, Rob, dear,” she whispered passionately; “I can’t bear to be separated from you now.”