“Oh, she’ll have one probably; she uses it for fudge! I’m not going there, and that’s flat.”
“I thought you had forgotten her.”
“I have!” he said savagely. “The way you forget the toothache. But I don’t go round boring a hole in a tooth to get it again. Look here, Miss Lizzie, do you know what she was doing when I saw her? She was dropping six lumps of sugar into a cup of something for that—that parent she’s gone bugs about.”
“That’s what she’s here for.”
“Oh, it is, is it?” he snarled. “Well, she wasn’t doing it for the fellow with a cauliflower ear who was standing beside him. There was a line of about twenty fellows there putting in their own sugar, all right.”
“I’ll tell you this, Mr. Burton,” I said in a serious tone, “sometimes I think things are just as well as they are. You haven’t a disposition for marriage. I don’t believe you’ll make her happy, even if you do get her.”
“Oh, I’ll not get her,” he retorted roughly. “As a matter of fact, I don’t want her. I’m cured. I’m as cured as a ham. She can feed sugar to the whole blamed Army, as far as I’m concerned. And after that she can go home and feed sugar to his five kids, and give ’em colic and sit up at night and——”
I left him still muttering and went into the Y hut. Hilda gave a little scream of joy when she saw me and ran round the counter, which was a plank on two barrels, and kissed me. I must say she was a nice little thing.
“Isn’t France small after all?” she demanded. “And do you know I’ve seen your nephew—or is it Miss Tish’s? He’s just too dear! We had a long talk here only a day or two ago, and I was telling about you three, and suddenly he said: ‘Wait a minute. You’ve mentioned no names, but I’ll bet my tin hat my Aunt Tish was one of them!’ Isn’t that amazing?”
Well, I thought it was, and I took a cup of her coffee. But it was poor stuff, and right then and there I made a kettleful and showed her how. But I noticed she grew rather quiet after a while.