AUNT PURDIE INTERVENES
The battalion was not an hour returned from the longest, hottest, dustiest and most exhausting route march yet experienced. Macgregor was stretched on his bed, a newspaper over his face, when an orderly shook him and shoved a visiting card into his hand.
'She's waitin' ootside,' he said and, with a laugh, departed.
Macgregor rubbed his eyes and read:
MRS. ROBERT PURDIE. 13, King's Mansions, W 3rd Wednesday.
'Oh, criffens!' he groaned. 'Ma aunt!' And proceeded with more haste than alacrity to tidy himself, while wondering what on earth she had come for.
Willie, scenting profit in a rich relation, though not his own, proffered his company, which was rather curtly refused. Nevertheless, he followed his friend.
Macgregor joined his aunt in the blazing sunshine. Her greeting was kindly if patronizing.
'Sorry to keep ye waitin', Aunt Purdie,' he said respectfully. 'If
I had kent ye was comin'——'
'I understood a good soldier was always prepared for any emergency——'