MAKING UP WITH ADELA.

Adela’s last letter certainly made me feel a silly ass. Somehow, it upset my usual happy trend of thought. I couldn’t work, and my soul was torn with conflicting emotions. One moment I hated her; the next I loved her. Then the Devil would whisper in my ear, ‘What has she got to do with it, John Brown? Sow your wild oats. Have your fun. Everybody’s doin’ it.’

Privately speaking, Adela was right; but this righteousness annoyed me. She wasn’t my sister or my mater, and yet she was giving me fits for having a bit of fun. Still, Adela was sweet. She had a way with her. The attraction was both physical and spiritual. She had that sort of healthy figure which makes a student of eugenics stop in the street and mutter, ‘Here’s the model girl!’ Adela was also a ripping hockey-player, and one of the best at tennis. When men saw her knocking about with a racquet she seemed irresistible. They wanted to know her—wanted to kiss her. And she liked a bit of fun; but she wasn’t a fool. A girl who can live in a country parish without getting a sticky label on her name must be rather decent.

Somehow, she balanced my emotions. After indulging in sloppy things for a time, she would say, ‘Come on, John; don’t be decadent. Let’s talk.’ Then we separated our chairs, smoked cigarettes, and chatted away about Kipling, Galsworthy, Hardy, Byron, and Shelley.

Adela could talk. In the country she had found time to think. Her observations were so very shrewd and sane that I often said to myself, ‘This girl would make a topping wife and mother.’ I pictured her with rosy-cheeked kiddies playing in a garden. You needn’t say that was silly. The best people do it.

And yet she had dropped me (pro tem.) for these Australians!

However, affection will out. I wanted to see Adela again; and Beefy wanted to see her sister. You see, Beefy was a little bored kissing barmaids, and longed for something more congenial. As a matter of fact, Beefy was commencing to think. This was a revolution.

‘Come on, John. Jump on. We’ll go and see somebody decent to-day,’ he said.

Away we went, and in twenty minutes Adela and I were alone in the lovely conservatory overlooking a beautiful country-side. And didn’t Adela look well! She had such a nice short skirt which showed her dainty ankles. But it was in her face and eyes I found rest and consolation.

Adela was clean.

‘Have a smoke, John. They’re State Express,’ she said, pushing the box over. ‘And here’s a cup of white coffee.’ This tempting beverage was served in a charming cup. As she passed it I touched her hand—accidentally, of course. I was thrilled. ‘Now, Johnnie,’ she said very quietly, ‘let’s have this thing out. I hate being bad friends, and I don’t like to hear my pals being discussed by cooks and kitchen-maids.’

‘You’re jealous,’ I said maliciously.

‘I’m jealous for your uniform, not for you. My brother has the D.S.O., and he wouldn’t make an ass of himself—at least, not in a local hotel. You haven’t learnt wisdom, old boy.’

‘Well, you’re to blame. Why did you toddle off with those Australians?’

‘What a babe you are! You and Beefy must have a weak kink. Can’t we see other people? And don’t you think you’re just a little presumptuous?’

‘Perhaps. But I didn’t break any commandments, I can assure you.’

‘You don’t need to break a commandment to be a fool. People don’t judge by the great things. They sum you up from little things. When they find cadets hobnobbing with barmaids and fooling around with chorus-girls, they think and talk a lot.’

‘Oh, be a sport, for Heaven’s sake! One would think you were at a Dorcas Society,’ I said, getting rattled.

‘Very well, Johnnie, if you’re going to be rude, and not man enough to face things out, you can go. Men may be scarce, but girls, at least, have a sense of decency and pride.’

‘Awfully sorry, old girl. Really, I didn’t mean to be nasty. But, you know, you are making a song about it. I’m really sorry, or I shouldn’t be here. I’ve been dying to come all the time. I vowed I would never see you again. But here I am. It’s all you!’

She smiled. She was a woman, after all. (Between you and me, Adela was a bit soft on your humble.)

‘You’ll never do it again, will you?’

‘Never—honest Injun!’

‘Very well, you’re pardoned. And here’s a kiss.’

‘You’re a sport, Adela. But what about those other fellows?’

‘The Australians?’

‘Yes.’

‘They’re very nice people. When they want to come here, they can do so. It isn’t for you to decide. Cheeky boy!’

‘Then you can’t be my special charmer.’

‘Who wants to be? Do you imagine we girls are going to allow you to label us “Special” or “One of the Crowd”? Johnnie, you’re the limit!’

‘That’s my ultimatum!’

‘You’re a silly kid. If you met those two Australians, you would be charmed. We have got to give hospitality to our relatives.’

‘Oh, then, they’re related?’

‘Yes—very old friends of the family.’

‘That makes a difference, Adela.’

‘Still, they’re interesting, although they’re relatives. I’m just longing to see them again. You may come, too, and guard me, if you like.’

‘I won’t!’

‘Oh!’

‘Do you think, Adela, I’m going to play second fiddle to your bush-whacking cousins? Not at all! There’s always the barmaid for me.’

‘Really, I despair of you. You’re as narrow as can be. But I’m going to be loyal to my friends.’

‘All right, Adela; I’m off,’ I said, getting up in a theatrical way. I didn’t really mean to go. I wanted to test her. But I was so amazed at her cool acceptance of my dramatic exit that I repeated, ‘Adela, I’m off,’ and went to the door.

She followed me out, quietly helped me on with my coat, and, just as I lifted my hat, she burst out laughing.

‘What are you laughing at?’

‘You, you silly boy.’

‘Oh!’

‘If I showed you the photo of the Australians, the joke would be apparent.’

‘Well, show it to me,’ I said, glad of finding any excuse to stay.

‘Very well. Off with your coat!’

I took it off.

‘Now, come in here;’ and she led the way to the drawing-room. We stepped across to the mantelpiece, and she lifted a photo. ‘There’s the two Australians,’ she said, with a grin.

I looked at the photo of two beautiful Australian girls in nursing-uniform, and muttered, ‘By Jove, what charming girls!’

‘Are you satisfied now, old King Jealousy?’

‘Yes; but why didn’t you tell me when you wrote the letter?’

‘Why?’

‘Yes.’

‘For a very womanly reason.’

‘What is it?’ I ejaculated, a little annoyed.

‘These girls are so handsome, I couldn’t afford to take risks. Don’t you know that old music-hall song?’

‘What?’

‘“Never Introduce your Donah to a Pal.”’

‘Oh, that’s it, is it? You were afraid of them collaring Beefy and me.’

‘Yes, old boy; I’m like you—jealous.’

‘You needn’t have worried, Adela. I really like you.’

‘Do you, Johnnie?’ she eagerly exclaimed.

‘Yes,’ I answered.

As her head got mixed up with my khaki sleeves, I heard her murmuring, ‘Don’t be a silly ass again—John Brown.’