Prattling on and on the young man came round the corner of the settee, followed by the old lady.
And then his flow of words failed suddenly as he caught a glimpse of William and Melia, whose presence he had been far from suspecting. His little start of guilt betrayed a feeling that he had made rather an ass of himself, for he said half shamefacedly, “Come on, my dear, let’s go and look at the Weir. We’ll come back here later.” The Corporal and his lady could only catch a glimpse of him as he led his mother abruptly into the next room; but Melia saw he was an officer with two pips on his sleeve and that his tunic was adorned with a tiny strip of white and purple ribbon with a star on it. In answer to her questions the Corporal was able to inform her that the young man was a Captain in the B.B. and that his decorations was the M.C. with Bar.
“And he looks so young!” said Melia.
“A very good soldier,” said the Corporal with a professional air.
“Who is he, Bill? I seem to remember his mother.”
“It’s young Nixey, the architect.”
Of course! But his uniform had altered him. He looked so handsome. And that was Emma Nixey—Emma Price that was. How proud she must be to have a boy like that!
“He’s a good soldier.” The deep voice of the Corporal broke in upon Melia’s thoughts. “A good soldier—that young feller.”
“Bill, you remember Emma Price that used to live at the bottom of Piper’s Hill?” There was a note of envy in the tone of Melia.
“I remember old Price, the cobbler.”