On the third day following, they obtained late passes. Willie's uneasiness was considerable, yet so was his vanity. He affected an absurdly devil-may-care deportment which so stirred Macgregor's sense of pity that he had thoughts of taking back what he had said about the cream cookies. But at the last moment his bootlace snapped. . . .
Willie's toilet was the most careful he had ever made, and included an application of exceeding fragrant pomade pilfered from his corporal's supply and laid on thickly enough to stop a leak. Finally, having armed himself with his new cane and put seven breath perfumers and a cigarette in his mouth, he approached the stooping Macgregor and declared himself ready for the road.
'What's that atrocious smell?' demanded Macgregor, with unwonted crustiness.
For once in his life Willie had no answer at hand, and for once he blushed.
XII
A TEA-PARTY
Christina was serving a customer when her two guests entered the shop. Unembarrassed she beamed on both and signed to Macgregor to go 'right in.' So Macgregor conducted his friend, who during the journey had betrayed increasing indications of 'funk,' into the absent owner's living-room, which Christina had contrived to make brighter looking than for many a year.
At the sight of the laden table Willie took fright and declared his intention of doing an immediate 'slope.' 'Ye didna tell me,' he complained, 'there was to be a big compn'y.'
Macgregor grabbed him by the arm. 'Keep yer hair on, Wullie.
There'll be naebody but the three o' us. There's nae scrimp aboot
Christina,' he added with pride.
'I believe ye!' responded the reassured guest. 'Gor, I never seen as much pastries in a' ma born days—no but what I'm ready to dae ma bit.'