THE LAWYER'S STORY
THE NIGHT BEFORE THE WEDDING
The Tale of a Bride-Elect
The next day we all hung about the garden, except the Youngster, who disappeared on his wheel early in the day, and only came back, hot and dusty, at tea-time. He waved a hand at us as he ran through the garden crying: "I'll change, and be with you in a moment," and leapt up the outside staircase that led to the gallery on which his room opened, and disappeared.
I found an opportunity to go up the other staircase a little later—the Youngster was an old pet of mine, and off and on, I had mothered him. I tapped at the door.
"Can't come in!" he cried.
"Where've you been?"
"Wait there a minute—and mum—. I'll tell you."
So I went and sat in the window looking down the road, until he came, spick and span in white flannels, with his head not yet dried from the douching he had taken.
"See here," he whispered, "I know you can keep a secret. Well, I've been out toward Cambrai—only sixty miles—and I am tuckered. There was a battle there last night—English driven back. They are only two days' march away, and oh! the sight on the roads. Don't let's talk of it."