“You’ve made up your mind to go, then, Doris?”
I looked at him. I knew how he hated it all.
“Don’t you think it is best, old boy?”
“Oh, I suppose so,” he said half savagely. He got up, looking for his hat. Presently the door of the flat banged behind him.
I was glad when the next few days were over. They went with a rush, for I was terribly busy: even if you are in half-mourning, and you think your clothes are pretty well in order, you are sure to find heaps to do when it comes to going away. Madge helped me like an angel; worked early and late, took all the housekeeping off my shoulders, and found time to do ever so many bits of mending. Between us, we just managed enough clothes; as Madge said, it was very fortunate that her only wish was to live the simple life during the holidays; but I felt horribly mean to take her things. Still, I did not see what else to do. One must be clad.
We puzzled a good deal over what I should and should not take. Music had not been mentioned by Mrs. McNab, but it seemed as well to put in a little; and I found corners for a few of my best-beloved books, in case the Towers should be barren in that respect. I looked longingly at my golf-clubs, not used for eighteen months, with all their lovely heads tied up in oily flannel. But I decided they were not in keeping with my situation. I had an instinctive belief that my light duties would not include golf. My tennis racket went in—but well at the bottom of my trunk, where I thought it highly probable it would remain throughout my stay at The Towers.
I packed on New Year’s night, with Colin and Madge both sitting on my bed, offering flippant advice. Colin had spoken very little since Mrs. McNab’s letter had come, and I knew he was making a violent effort to “buck up.” Not that he had not always been a dear; but he could not bear the idea of my going to strangers in such a way. He had come home on New Year’s Eve with the loveliest pair of shoes for me. I don’t know how he had managed to buy them—and they were such good ones, too, the very sort my soul loved. I nearly cried when he gave them to me; and he patted me on the back, very hard. He made me go to bed as soon as the packing was over, and Madge brewed cocoa and made toast, with a spendthrift lavishness of butter. We all had a midnight supper on my bed. I often thought of that light-hearted supper in the days that followed. It was very cheerful, and we drank the health of everybody, including Mrs. McNab and the cat.
It was all a rush next morning. The carrier came very early for my trunk, and I rushed round making final preparations and packing my little suit-case. There seemed ever so much to say at the last moment. Madge was quite cross with me because I stopped when I was putting on my hat to tell her how to thicken soup. Just as I was ready to make a dash for the train, to my joy Colin appeared—he had got an hour off from the office, and had raced home to carry my things for me and save me any trouble. They put me into the train at Spencer Street, and Colin recklessly flung magazines and sweets into my lap. I have always said that few could adorn riches better than Colin—his ideas are so comfortable.
Then they hugged me vigorously, and the guard shouted “Stand clear!” and the train started.
Colin ran alongside the window as long as he could.