JOHN
 
 DRUMS AFAR
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 HEARTS and FACES 
 
 The Adventure of a Soul 
 
 "Since George Moore, in 'A Modern 
 Lover,' sketched the career of a success- 
 ful artist we remember nothing in 
 fiction so vivacious and veracious as 
 Mr. Gibbon's story of a Scotch painter." 
 Saturday Review (London) 
 
 Cloth, $1.35 net.
 
 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 AN INTERNATIONAL ROMANCE 
 
 BY 
 
 J. MURRAY GIBBON 
 
 AUTHOR OP 
 
 HEARTS AND FACES" 
 
 TORONTO /. /. S. B. GUNDY 
 
 NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY 
 
 LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD 
 
 MCMXVIII
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1918, 
 BY JOHN LANE COMPANY 
 
 Press of 
 
 J. J. Little & Ives Company 
 New York. U. S. A.
 
 TO 
 
 C. E. BENJAMIN 
 
 2135792
 
 Before the shadowy porch 
 
 Of the House of a Thousand Nights 
 
 The Sun with scarlet torch 
 
 From his pale car alights, 
 
 And on that dim threshold 
 
 A flicker of flame he throws, 
 
 A flame of fine-spun gold 
 
 Shot with turquoise and rose. 
 
 And ere this Tyrian glow 
 Is through the dark withdrawn 
 The winds unquiet blow 
 Rumours of angry dawn 
 And bloody carnival 
 Upon the fields of war, 
 Where dread reveilles call 
 And beat of drums afar.
 
 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 OXFORD, old-world city so beloved by youth, an- 
 cient University so receptive to the latest learning, 
 quiet haunt of scholars and gay arena of the ath- 
 lete ! Sweet Seventeen may be the age when wom- 
 anhood first sips the wine of life, but Nineteen sparkles 
 brightest to the young Englishman as he drives through 
 Carfax to your College gates and finds his name upon a 
 College staircase. 
 
 Childhood with its golden curls may have its age of in- 
 nocence, and boyhood with its shortened hair may be the 
 epoch of adventure, but Nineteen knows the proud need 
 of a razor, Nineteen smokes with discernment and no 
 longer out of brag, Nineteen calculates his income not by 
 the week but by the year, Nineteen, although not quite of 
 age, can without contradiction pass for a man. And, having 
 burst the chrysalis of school into the more splendid exist- 
 ence of the undergraduate, Nineteen flutters through a de- 
 licious air to sports which he is of the ripe age to enjoy, to 
 friendships which open up undreamed of worlds, to studies 
 which he may indulge in if only he has a mind, unless in- 
 deed he holds a scholarship, and then he drinks great 
 draughts of wisdom, all in a garden walled in, it is true, 
 against too easy an exit, but with beautiful old walls to 
 which like clematis great memories cling and fine tradi- 
 tions. 
 
 Take then a million nerves all tingling with dreams come 
 true, and another network of arteries pulsing with uncon- 
 querable hope, built into a complex structure of bone and 
 
 9
 
 io DRUMS AFAR 
 
 muscle and flesh knit together by good health, and grown 
 to a vigorous well-poised five-foot-ten because the heart 
 was strong and the lungs were clear and the teeth were 
 sound and the skin fresh so fair a skin you only find in 
 the races of the North and the mind alert, untainted 
 by precocious instincts, and add to these blue eyes and fair 
 hair and good humour, and you have a picture of that 
 Charles Fitzmorris who in the year of our Lord nineteen 
 hundred and nine, on the second Friday of October, when 
 the Virginia creeper was flickering in the wind like a red 
 flame over the porch of St. Mary's, overpaid a cabman 
 thoroughly familiar with such excesses on his arrival at 
 Canterbury Gate to enter on three happy years as an under- 
 graduate at Christ Church. 
 
 In the morocco pocket-book given him by his father with 
 two fifty pound notes inside to give it tone, he fingered 
 yet a third most precious piece of paper, folded into a 
 sheet on the front of which was printed, except for a few 
 words written in and signed by the Censor, the notice of 
 the day of Meeting. 
 
 "If on your arrival," said this notice, "you ask at the 
 Porter's Lodge, he will tell you where the rooms are 
 which have been assigned to you." 
 
 First of all he had driven to Tom Quad, then been re- 
 directed to this other Gate, and so at last with the aid of 
 The Porter, and a lesser Porter, and a still lesser Messen- 
 ger to whose kindly assistance was eventually added a 
 Scout and a Scout's Boy, he reached the staircase and the 
 outer oak door, and then the inner door, and beyond that the 
 very rooms of his long-anticipated heaven. 
 
 After which, being left to himself, our hero for this, 
 be it known once and for all, in spite of his faults, foibles, 
 and all other frailties beginning with an T or indeed any 
 other letter, is our hero sank into a rather treacherous 
 arm-chair before the open fire thoughtfully lighted by the 
 afore-mentioned Scout's Boy on the instructions of the 
 afore-mentioned Scout at the suggestion of the afore-men- 
 tioned Messenger, it being one of those raw grey days
 
 DRUMS AFAR n 
 
 which only an English youth of nineteen just entering Ox- 
 ford could ever consider his first day in heaven. 
 
 Charles Fitzmorris was the third child and only son of 
 a busy stockbroker whose daughters held a certain sway in 
 Richmond society due mainly to their dressmaker and to 
 their mother's well-directed hospitality. The father had 
 been content to send his boy to St. Paul's, a school within 
 easy reach of home. As wealth and knowledge of the 
 world increased, he wished he had said Harrow, repenting 
 at the rate of five hundred pounds a year by sending 
 Charles to Christ Church, which, though not an Oxford 
 man himself, he had heard to be the most aristocratic of 
 the Colleges. As a matter of fact "The House" is also the 
 most cosmopolitan, owing to its size and broad-minded 
 tutors, who have welcomed new blood even though it 
 may not pulse through aristocratic culture or the orthodox 
 arteries of polite learning. 
 
 Most Paulines matriculate at Oxford as scholars, but 
 Charles sauntered in a commoner. He had however the 
 Pauline manner, which inclines to be smart and a trifle 
 flippant. For that reason it is not popular, the average 
 undergraduate shunning the unusual lest it should sound bad 
 form. His tutor chilled at the first interview. 
 
 "I understand," he said, "you intend to study history." 
 
 Charles, nettled by the other's manner, answered, 
 
 "Yes, and also make it." 
 
 "The battle of Waterloo," snubbed the Don, "was not 
 won on the playing-fields of St. Paul's." 
 
 To which Charles said blandly, 
 
 "Did Blucher come from Eton ?" 
 
 His tutor put down this fresher as an insolent puppy, 
 but all that could be expected from a London day school. 
 
 Yet the repartee evidently strolled round the Senior Com- 
 mon Room, for when Charles was one day summoned by 
 the Censor for cutting Chapels, that worthy said as he was 
 leaving, 
 
 "By the way, let me show you the Blucher Room it 
 will interest you part of my own quarters, where the
 
 12 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 Marshal slept when he visited Oxford after the defeat of 
 Napoleon. Tradition has it he slept in his boots with a 
 bottle of brandy under his pillow, and that he ruminated 
 by day at the Peckwater window, smoking his long German 
 pipe, and presumably drinking from the afore-said bottle 
 wonderful people, the Germans, wonderful people !" 
 
 In any case it had been indiscreet to wave the red flag of 
 Wellington before a Pauline, for St. Paul's lays claim to 
 a soldier of even greater military genius than the conqueror 
 of Napoleon, namely, John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough, 
 hero of Blenheim and Ramillies, peerless alike in strategy 
 and diplomacy, the one man of his time who was a match 
 for Louis XIV. The battle of Wellington and Marlborough 
 had been fought two summers ago before suitable witnesses 
 in Richmond Park by Charles and a neighbour of the same 
 age, an Eton youth who in a rash moment had boasted 
 Wellington too loudly over the garden wall. A challenge 
 was flung and accepted, the meeting place arranged, the 
 fight was fought without gloves, and Charles emerged vic- 
 torious. From the days when he had been a Baby Ban- 
 tam, he had a wonderfully straight and vicious left, and 
 now that he had passed from the Light Weights into the 
 Welters it was straighter and deadlier than ever, so that 
 the too rash Eton youth was knocked out of time in the 
 second round. 
 
 The career of Marlborough had always fascinated 
 Charles, and indeed it was through hero-worship of this 
 greatest of the Paulines that he had come to choose History 
 as his School. If only England had had a Dumas, what 
 a romance might have been written round this handsome, 
 clear-headed, brave, unscrupulous soldier of fortune who 
 had founded a great house in days of war, intrigue and 
 revolution! Charles, when he paid his first visit to Ox- 
 ford for his entrance examination, had spent an afternoon 
 at Blenheim, with something like awe approaching the vast 
 palace, "the hollowed quarry" in which a grateful nation 
 had housed its saviour, and which had recently acquired 
 new brightness from a dowry of American dollars.
 
 DRUMS AFAR 13 
 
 Here had lived the man, once a boy at his own school, 
 whose genius in the fields of war had become legendary 
 even in France, who had broken the power of the Bour- 
 bons, and who had made England, almost in spite of her- 
 self, the dominant power in Europe. 
 
 For sixty pounds the furniture, distinctly the worse for 
 wear, of his predecessors in the room allotted to him in 
 Peckwater Quadrangle passed into Charles's possession. 
 The chesterfield needed a new cover, the table a new 
 cloth, the mantel a less disreputable frieze, the curtains 
 a decent burial, while the wall-paper was stained with rev- 
 elry. Charles went shopping with Frank Mainwaring, a 
 fellow Pauline, whose history scholarship had won him 
 rooms in the Old Library. A few hours with an obsequious 
 shopman resulted in a wall-paper growing pink rose-buds 
 up to the ceiling, red plush curtains, table-cloth, chester- 
 field and mantel also of red plush, a leather arm-chair, a 
 mahogany-framed Rossetti's Blessed Damozel, and the arms 
 of Christ Church emblazoned on that form of shield known 
 as Fresher's Delight. These, with his groups of school 
 teams and his racks of portraits, gave a personal touch 
 to what Charles considered a highly satisfactory sitting- 
 room. 
 
 Frank Mainwaring spent less, but gave more trouble. 
 
 "Show me your tables," he would say superciliously. 
 
 And for his edification were rolled out tables of mahog- 
 any, of walnut inlaid with marquetry, of cherrywood, rose- 
 wood, satinwood or fumed oak, the shopkeeper dilating 
 on the respective charms of Stuart, Chippendale, Shera- 
 ton, Hepplewhite, Louis XVI, Empire and Morris styles. 
 Then after an hour Frank picked out an ordinary affair 
 of pine, saying, 
 
 "Richard Burton was content to write on a kitchen 
 table. That is good enough for me." 
 
 So too at the tobacconist's after fondling straight- 
 grained pipes and meerschaums he would disgust the shop- 
 man by choosing a fourpenny corn-cob, "the kind that Mark 
 Twain smoked."
 
 14 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 This problem of furnishing was indeed too much for 
 many of the Freshers. One had ordered so lavishly that he 
 could barely move between his sideboard, his cabinets, his 
 book-cases, his bureaux, his chairs and his massive dining- 
 table. Frank with his austere brown paper wall, on which 
 a lithograph by Daumier, a Rembrandt etching, a pen and 
 ink by Charles Keene, a print by Hogarth and a Nicholson 
 woodcut were the decorations, gave a distinctive air to less 
 pretentious quarters. 
 
 Charles, however, liked his own taste best of all. When 
 he had his clothes unpacked and his books shelved, when 
 he had signed his name in Latin in the Register, when he 
 had absorbed some fatherly advice from his Scout, when 
 he had interchanged visits with school-fellows and re- 
 ceived the calls of friendly seniors, when he had dipped 
 into undergraduate slang and etiquette and been initi- 
 ated into tubbing on the river, when he had learned the 
 times to forget his cap and gown, how to wear that gown 
 round his neck like a scarf, how late he could decently 
 turn up in Hall, what kind of excuse to make when he 
 cut his tutor, he began to feel that this was the place where 
 a man could be a man. 
 
 The compact concentrated life of Oxford came as a 
 relief after the daily train rides between Baron's Court 
 and Richmond. Moreover to one who had hitherto lived 
 in a rather repressive home, there was an exultation in 
 housekeeping for oneself. Breakfast which till now had 
 been an unhappy rush through ham and eggs became a care- 
 fully thought-out hour and a half of social entertainment, 
 at which he could regale his new acquaintances or dazzle 
 with sophisticated menus Paulines now at cruder colleges 
 like Balliol. Kelly, an American on the same staircase, 
 helped him here with suggestions such as grape-fruit and 
 an American cereal, after which might come curried prawns 
 and devilled mushrooms, followed by Devonshire cream with 
 mulberry jam. / 
 
 Silas, the scout, who brought up a large and ravenous 
 family on his most useful perquisite namely, whatever was
 
 DRUMS AFAR 15 
 
 left over from the meals upon his staircase disliked such 
 notions. Oxford town was not yet educated up to the 
 American breakfast food, and when, for instance, Silas 
 brought home toasted cornflakes his derisive offspring asked 
 if the swells at Christ Church were using up their old straw 
 hats. 
 
 Silas therefore backed the claims of pigeon pie, knowing 
 the established rule of Christ Church kitchen that if you 
 ordered pie for four, you got pie for six. This was good 
 for the kitchen, good for the scout, and gave the under- 
 graduate an air of hospitality. But Charles had inherited 
 a certain business instinct and was twice shy. 
 
 Most days began with morning Chapel in the Cathedral. 
 Then followed breakfast with a senior or in other company 
 till ten, when it was time for a lecture. A second lecture 
 with an hour once a week at which he read and discussed 
 an essay with his tutor ended Charles's mild intellectual 
 effort for the morning. If it was not time for luncheon he 
 browsed in Blackwell's bookshop or hovered around his tail- 
 or or his haberdasher. The schoolboy has but little thought 
 of dress, but the Fresher launches out, provided the purse 
 allows, into post-impressionist socks, into fancy waistcoats, 
 flame-red silk handkerchiefs and exotic ties. Women are 
 supposed to dress to kill a man, rather than to satisfy 
 their own delight in fabrics. So with the Fresher, whose 
 gaudy waistcoat buttoned with mother-of-pearl and whose 
 variegated interlude between his shoes and his turned up 
 trousers are but expressions of exuberance, worn not to 
 attract attention but to discharge emotion. 
 
 If only Charles could have hoped to be a Blue or even 
 wear the faded rose and bright brass buttons of Leander, 
 he might have shunned this dandyism. But to be a Blue 
 meant to be a finer athlete than he knew to be within 
 his powers. He could do no more than worship these half- 
 deities with a heart beating behind a blaze of colour. 
 
 Yet he had his exercise. Enlisted for the river, Charles 
 came back from strenuous afternoons of tubbing with a 
 healthy glow and also, it must be confessed, in spite of
 
 16 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 the seat protector known as "Pontius Pilate" a disinclination 
 to sit down. Then came tea with unlimited appetite for 
 cake and toasted buns. 
 
 Finding cigarettes less trying to the throat than a pipe, 
 he settled down at last to a long and corktipped brand sug- 
 gesting an air of experience. 
 
 Then an hour of quiet reading till it was time for Hall, 
 after which the J. C. R. or Junior Common Room for coffee 
 and all the gossip that was going. The rest of the evening 
 varied. There were clubs, and once a week at least the 
 theatre. 
 
 On his staircase he had found the ground-floor rooms 
 occupied by two Bullingdon "bloods," both seniors, who 
 dutifully called on him, had him to breakfast, and then 
 receded into their exclusive sphere. On the first floor Baron 
 v. Gleyn, a second year's Rhodes Scholar from Berlin, popu- 
 larly known as Kaiser Bill's Best Friend, also did his duty 
 but he also seemed to consider Charles small fry. Facing 
 him Kelly, the American. Opposite Charles's own rooms 
 on the second floor was Hargrove, a Westminster scholar, 
 with thoughts mostly for the Church, while above were 
 Staynes-Manners, a Carthusian immersed in billiards, and 
 Mackenzie, full-blown M.A. of a Scottish University, now 
 holding the annual Exhibition offered by competition irre- 
 spective of age to such as otherwise could not afford this 
 expensive English degree. 
 
 It was not till he had returned a visit from Kelly that 
 Charles began to regret his haste in furnishing. In Kelly's 
 rooms a cornice of oak ran round the sitting-room the height 
 of the door, above which the walls were finished in a creamy 
 white identical with the ceiling. Below the cornice the walls 
 were divided by broad strips of silvery grey oak into panels 
 filled with a light brown Japanese grasspaper. Delicate 
 Japanese stencils mounted on Japanese newspapers and 
 framed in black hung in two panels. In another a Samurai 
 hat of leather stamped with a gold dragon, and in another 
 a circular dish of beaten copper. The mantel was of oak, 
 simple in design, matching the sideboard, the doors and the
 
 DRUMS AFAR . 17 
 
 window-frames. The curtains were of tussore silk. The 
 table and the chairs were of oak to match the walls, the 
 only note of pronounced colour being in the cushions richly 
 embroidered in red, black and gold. 
 
 One solitary vase adorned the mantelpiece, but above 
 hung the head of a Rocky Mountain Sheep with curling 
 horns. Liberty arm-chairs welcomed friends around the 
 fire. 
 
 Although Kelly's dress was immaculate and his wealth 
 undeniable, his vivid Middle Western dialect sounded 
 strange in that drawling Oxford air, Silas was never recon- 
 ciled to such language even by his lavish tips. 
 
 " 'E do fling such h'epitaphs at me," Silas would say, 
 shaking his head. 
 
 Silas had little sympathy with the democratic wave which 
 was bringing so many nobodies to Oxford. He loved to 
 tell of the titled undergraduates on whom he had waited 
 and it must be suspected whose cigars he had smoked. 
 Of one particularly who had on a certain Fifth of November 
 roasted in Peckwater Quadrangle certain statutes from the 
 Library, he was hysterically proud. 
 
 " 'E was a demon, sir, 'e was but 'e was a thorough gen- 
 tleman." 
 
 Broad cheeked and rather flat in the face, Kelly betrayed 
 his Irish father in more than his name. But he was thorough- 
 ly United States. His teeth glistened gold, his feet were natty 
 with patent leather, his light brown hair was parted in the 
 middle. What stamped him most of all American was his 
 high-strung manner and vigorous speech, so different from 
 the suave "good form" of the English undergraduate. 
 
 Although jarred at first by Kelly's transatlanticism, 
 Charles got to like him so well that they arranged to dine 
 together in Hall. 
 
 That spacious banquet-chamber built by the ambitious 
 high-priest Wolsey for the great College which should be 
 his monument roused the admiring sarcasm of the Ameri- 
 can. 
 
 "If I were boss," he said, "I'd have them give a fellow
 
 i8 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 something like a dinner in a hall of this kind, not a thirty 
 cent meal for fifty cents. I'd get a bunch of those fussy 
 guys in the white caps and aprons same as you see at Simp- 
 son's in the Strand, and set them up against a table loaded 
 with venison pasty and barons of beef, sheep roasted whole, 
 sucking pig, loin of veal, peacock pie, turkey, goose and 
 good fat capon, then another of fish with lamprey pie, a 
 dish of lobster, salmon and halibut, and then a third table 
 with plum pudding, iced cakes, tarts, desserts, candies and 
 fruits, with butlers handing out possets of sack, mugs of ale 
 and flagons of wine. Why, old Henry the Eighth looking 
 down on us from that picture frame over the head-table 
 must mistake this for a cafeteria." 
 
 "Henry the Eighth isn't our only portrait here," said 
 Charles. "There's William Penn, your Quaker hero in his 
 suit of armour perhaps we're living up to his lights now." 
 
 "God bless the Founder of Pennsylvania," answered Kel- 
 ly. "He was a regular fellow. It was his Quakers and 
 Dutchmen that brought us scrapples and Philadelphia saus- 
 age. Give me a Dunkard girl for a cook, and just as sure 
 as a cat's a pussy I'll die with a good digestion. Ever hear 
 of the Dunkards? They're a religious sect of farmers 
 some farmers I tell you in Pennsylvania. The men are 
 clean-shaven except for a bunch of spinach under the chin 
 they're the kind that won't give you anything unless it's 
 absolutely right. When William Penn said a long grace 
 before meat, it was coming to him. He knew he was due 
 for a good meal whenever he ate at home. I guess I'll 
 see the head cook here, to-morrow morning, and have a 
 little heart to heart talk. He needs it." 
 
 Curious to know what happened, Charles asked for par- 
 ticulars next day. 
 
 "Well, I saw His Nibs," said Kelly. "He gave me the 
 stony glare and after a while threw several spasms, but 
 at the end he promised to give it the up and down and think 
 it over. For the love of Pete, I said, try to live up to 
 your kitchen. Before I left I handed him the Boston Cook
 
 DRUMS AFAR 19 
 
 Book, and he touched me for five bucks, or one golden sov- 
 ereign." 
 
 Charles soon found that Kelly knew what he was talking 
 of when he talked of cooking. Much of his time seemed 
 to have been spent in collecting recipes for the dishes that 
 had pleased his palate. These he somehow persuaded the 
 House kitchen to serve up at the luncheons which he gave 
 to his select friends, mostly Americans like himself, as the 
 English had the river or the football field to consider, and 
 dared not risk more than bread and cheese. One day he 
 would have an Italian lunch, with onion soup served in 
 yellow bowls, spaghetti, gnocchi, cauliflower fritters and a 
 sweet of frangipane. Another day he would start with lentil 
 broth or cream of barley soup with asparagus tips, mackerel 
 baked in cream followed by sweetbread salad and ending 
 with apricot custard as he said to remind him of Vienna. 
 On Fridays he had fish as cooked in Normandy, but only 
 on Sunday would he allow himself English food, saying 
 he did this for a penance and being himself most penitent 
 over large helpings of cold roast beef and Cheddar cheese. 
 
 When Charles accused him of being a glutton he only 
 laughed. 
 
 "I'm the easiest fellow in the world," he said, "when it 
 comes to eating, provided I get what I want." 
 
 Kelly's pantry was like a China shop, so numerous were 
 the sets of plates and dishes, each of a distinctive colour. 
 One day he would use cardinal red, another day a pale 
 emerald green, another a Chinese blue. He drove poor Silas 
 half distracted, as he used not a table-cloth but doilies to 
 each dish, while the silver and the glasses and the plates 
 had to be arranged on a mathematical proportion for which 
 he drew up a diagram like an architect's ground plan. The 
 glass of water must be exactly at the point of the knife, the 
 bread and butter plate must be to the upper left of the serv- 
 ice plate, with butter knife across the upper right hand 
 side and blade turned toward the centre. There must also 
 be for each guest a tiny saucer with what Kelly called an 
 "Individual nut."
 
 20 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 Before very long Charles realized that Oxford is a Uni- 
 versity of many atmospheres, separated by walls less tangi- 
 ble but more impenetrable than the old city ramparts. Be- 
 tween the men on the same staircase there was a freemasonry 
 which permitted them to borrow each other's cups and 
 saucers, even their silver on emergencies; and men of the 
 same college, however separated they might be by wealth or 
 tastes or seniority, breathed a common air which gave them 
 towards each other a certain fellow feeling. But in a 
 strange quadrangle, even if one visited by invitation, a cold 
 grey pall chilled any interchange of thought between men 
 whose tastes were otherwise in common, making the visitor 
 feel on sufferance, and driving the more sensitive back to 
 their own friends in their own college. Just as in a night- 
 mare invisible hands hold the eager heart from the object it 
 pursues, so this old-world Oxford seemed to be haunted by 
 unseen forces, ghosts of forgotten prejudices and immemo- 
 rial feuds, herding the young generations mysteriously into 
 enclosures from which they might not stray. Only in out- 
 side clubs, where men may meet on neutral ground in newer 
 buildings not permeated by this imperceptible, pervasive 
 spirit of exclusiveness, does this harass of veiled aloofness 
 disappear. 
 
 Christ Church, which as the cedes Christi or House of 
 Christ scorns the appellation "College," is nevertheless itself 
 more like a city. So many types, so many ranks, so many 
 interests are gathered in its five quadrangles that no wearer 
 of its colours need go outside to find his friends. It is a 
 University within a University, and there are few who 
 would not rather say they were at the House than that 
 they were at Oxford. 
 
 If there is any breach within its walls, it is through the 
 link of school. Paulines, like the rest, forgather, indeed 
 possibly more than others, for that school wins so many 
 scholarships that it breeds a race of prigs who rather fancy 
 themselves a race apart, destined by a thoughtful deity for 
 the Ireland and other such University prizes. 
 
 Charles who had no need to work save when he wanted,
 
 DRUMS AFAR 21 
 
 was not a Pauline born : he had merely had St. Paul's thrust 
 upon him by a careless father. His school-fellows now at 
 other Colleges put up with him because he was good-natured 
 and imagined them nearly as brilliant as they thought them- 
 selves. He annoyed the scholars by saying he preferred 
 G. K. Chesterton to Homer, and yet they forgave him, for 
 after all Chesterton had been a Pauline. 
 
 The privilege of being a Pauline was never realized so 
 keenly as on that evening of Charles's very first term, when 
 the debating hall at the Union was packed as it was never 
 packed before by a crowd eager to hear Chesterton himself 
 meander round the subject of the House of Lords. That 
 Oxford should have paid this tribute to one who was not 
 an Oxford man was typical of the broad spirit which so 
 often disarms its critics. Strangely enough no one better 
 than Chesterton expressed the attitude towards which the 
 undergraduate of that time aspired an attitude of para- 
 dox concealing faith, expounding the Age of Innocence in 
 the epigram of the intellectual exquisite. 
 
 Charles's own particular school chum had been swallowed 
 up in Cambridge, but Frank Mainwaring had always been 
 friendly, and now that they were of the same year at the 
 same House, went to the same lectures, had the same tutor, 
 and were tubbed together, this friendliness increased. 
 
 Although he had the protruding teeth and die-away chin 
 which Continental artists delight to picture as typical of the 
 effete Englishman, Frank had a fair physique and consider- 
 able force of character. At the competition for his scholar- 
 ship, he had impressed his examiners by answering only 
 one of the fifteen questions they had put down for the gen- 
 eral paper, treating it with a thoroughness which left no 
 doubt of his wide reading. Like Charles he had played in 
 the School Fifteen, his speed and pluck as a three-quarter 
 being beyond reproach. He had a truly Pauline skill with 
 the gloves and was an admirable swimmer. Lack of pocket- 
 money had been his greatest handicap to friendship. At 
 Oxford, however, after a preliminary spell of thrift, he went 
 more boldly into debt.
 
 22 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 Frank also took a fancy to the American, finding intense 
 delight in his pungent language and his New World point 
 of view. On urging Kelly to go down to the boats, this 
 offspring of Chicago answered, "Rowing is the finest sport 
 in the world next to knitting. But give me a game where 
 more than one out of eight is allowed to think for himself. 
 Your perfect oarsman reminds me of the poet's purple cow. 
 I'd rather see than be one."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 RETURNING rather early from the river, Charles 
 one afternoon found Kelly's door ajar and heard 
 the sound of scuffling on his own landing. Then 
 the voice of the American rang out sharp and 
 nasal : 
 
 "Now, boys, that'll do." 
 
 Hurrying up to see what was happening, he found Har- 
 grove's oak sported and Kelly with his back to it, sur- 
 rounded by four others, men whom Charles recognized as 
 of their own year, hunting men of the "coshy" type. They 
 fell back as Charles appeared so that he could stand beside 
 the American. 
 
 ''What's the row about?" said Charles, ready for a fight. 
 
 "Why do you spoil the fun?" said one of the four, a 
 fat red-haired dandy. "We're not interfering with you. 
 It's this rotten Hargrove smug. He's much too 'pi/ so we 
 are screwing him up." 
 
 "I'm dead nuts on pie myself," said Kelly. "What's the 
 matter with pie ?" 
 
 "Not that kind of pie, you silly goat," said the other. 
 " 'Pi' short for pious. The fellow holds prayer-meetings 
 in his rooms, regular confessional. You ask Silas." 
 
 "You leave Silas to us," said Kelly roughly. "This is our 
 staircase and not yours. We'll hold all the god-damned 
 prayer-meetings and confessionals we choose. Now you 
 fat son-of-a-gun, hands up and get out of this. I hate to 
 spill blood upon the floor, but just smell this automatic and 
 quit before I count ten, or, by God, I'll give Silas some- 
 thing to wipe up ! One two three four " 
 
 He did not have to count any further, for when they saw 
 the weapon pointed as if to fire the four suddenly blanched, 
 ducked and plunged downstairs so quickly that before 
 
 23
 
 24 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 Charles and Kelly had time to look each other in the face 
 fugitive steps were heard scattering across the quadrangle. 
 
 "Ever play poker?" said Kelly as he turned round the 
 barrel of his imitation revolver and drew from it a cigarette. 
 
 "If these boys haul me up before the Censor, I'll have yet 
 another laugh on them. Here, old man, fetch a screw-driver 
 so that we can release the Papal Legate." 
 
 "Here's one on the floor," said Charles. "They must 
 have dropped it." 
 
 Half a dozen screws had already been driven into the 
 oak before Kelly had intervened,, but these were quickly 
 extracted. Opening the inside door they found Hargrove, 
 a smile on his face and a jug in either hand. 
 
 "For the love of Pete," exclaimed Kelly, "what kind of 
 a prayer-meeting is this?" 
 
 Hargrove chuckled as he explained, 
 
 "I had the jugs of water ready in case they threw in 
 fireworks through the letter-slit, and when I heard them 
 rush downstairs, I ran to the window and caught tHem 
 just in time ; at least two of them the fat one and Brown- 
 ing soaked to the skin, I imagine." 
 
 "Bully for you, St. John the Baptist," said Kelly. "That 
 was a hell of a near shave, but they'll leave this staircase 
 alone now, or I miss my guess. Fitz, put on your coat of 
 many colours, and we'll all celebrate with tea in my rooms." 
 
 "Why not have it here?" said Hargrove. "Unless you 
 are afraid." 
 
 "Afraid?" Kelly roared with laughter. "That's a good 
 one. Sure, we'll be delighted. Won't we, Fitz?" 
 
 "Just in a jiffy," said Charles. 
 
 Hargrove's rooms were characteristic. He was an ardent 
 brass-rubber, belonging to that happy band which on bended 
 knee secures impressions from fourteenth and fifteenth cen- 
 tury graven memorials in which the floors of English par- 
 ish churches are so rich. The beautiful lettering and fine 
 drawing translated thus into black and white become fine 
 panels of surprising decorative value, so that Hargrove had 
 an array of supplicating knights in armour on his walls, as
 
 DRUMS AFAR 25 
 
 background to tall brass candlesticks and dark oak Tudor 
 furniture. 
 
 When Silas appeared, Kelly gave the old man a dressing 
 down which he was not likely to forget, warning him that 
 if any more such tales were spread, he would put arsenic in 
 all the untouched food which Silas claimed as his iniquitous 
 perquisite, and gunpowder in the cigars which Silas stole. 
 
 Hargrove seemed rather to enjoy the lurid language inter- 
 spersed in these admonitions. His eyes deep sunk under dark 
 beetling brows sparkled with the humour of what evidently 
 was a hospitable soul. The stooping shoulders and sallow 
 skin did not make his a prepossessing appearance, but be- 
 hind it all there was something human which delighted in 
 pouring out tea and handing cake to the two friends who 
 had come to his rescue. 
 
 He was still a boy at heart and behind his almost saintly 
 exterior rejoiced in pranks of which a stranger could hardly 
 have believed him capable. 
 
 Every word that Hargrove spoke seemed to carry the 
 echo of a Gregorian chant his face was the face of a 
 mystic, and in the subdued light of candles one could visual- 
 ize in him the mediaeval priest swaying with incense and 
 with ritual the souls of the faithful. While Kelly looked 
 on morning chapel as an alibi, this rite was an essential 
 purification of the spirit to such as Hargrove, who rejoiced 
 in the responses as if his heart were in the sacrificial fire. 
 
 With the Cathedral as its private Chapel, Christ Church 
 was to him an earthly Paradise. The massive strength of 
 the Norman columns, the fairylike fan-tracery above the 
 choir, the graceful early English arches of the Lady Chapel 
 with the watching chamber of St. Frideswide, the simpler 
 vaulting of the Latin Chapel guarded by the recumbent 
 warrior figure, comrade of the Black Prince, the great Nor- 
 man door from the Cloisters to the Chapter House these 
 gave an air which the Westminster scholar loved to breathe. 
 For Wolsey, the worldly Cardinal, who had cut off two of 
 the Norman arches to make a great quadrangle he had a fine 
 contempt.
 
 26 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "The memory of such a butcher," he said, "is best kept 
 in his kitchen." 
 
 Hargrove had a piano in his rooms, and between him and 
 Charles grew the bond of music. Up till now he had played 
 mostly in the afternoons for fear of annoying his neigh- 
 bours, but this illusion was soon dispelled, and as often as 
 not when he began to play one or more slipped in to listen. 
 It was not long before he found that Charles had a pleasant 
 tenor voice, with, however, a poor selection of songs. 
 
 "You should begin with the Elizabethans," said Hargrove, 
 "if you wish to get the spirit of good melody, and you could 
 not find a better place to begin than here. The Library of 
 Christ Church is full of forgotten airs from the days of 
 Thomas Campion. I'll transcribe what I think would suit 
 your voice, and then if you like we can make an historical 
 progression, linking up these songs for the lute with the best 
 of the ballads of to-day. I have a dozen books on folk-song 
 too the songs unearthed by Cecil Sharp are fascinating." 
 
 Kelly's hands-up exploit won for that worthy considerable 
 popularity. Westminster is strong at Christ Church, and 
 Hargrove with his quiet but intense religion had the respect 
 of those who knew him best. It was not long before the 
 fat Fresher met with retribution in Mercury, the historic 
 fountain of Tom Quad, into which the obstreperous are 
 dipped with or without ceremony by those who take this 
 salutary method of teaching manners. Even the Dean 
 stopped Kelly one day in the Broad Walk, and with a twin- 
 kle in his eye asked him if he had any more Wild Western 
 cigarettes. 
 
 Hargrove had some months later his opportunity of doing 
 the American a service in return. 
 
 The pivot of the educational system at Oxford is not 
 the lecturer discoursing to a roomful of men more or less 
 attentive, but the tutor who for an hour a week talks over 
 with each of his pupils the books read and knowledge 
 gained thereby the week before. So much reading is pre- 
 scribed and an essay must be written in which the under- 
 graduate maintains some thesis. No better system could be
 
 DRUMS AFAR 27 
 
 found for keeping record of a man's real study and intelli- 
 gence. In order to defend his argument, he must digest 
 what he reads instead of rushing through more books than 
 he can remember. His brain goes actively to work upon a 
 subject, instead of taking mere dictation. He learns to 
 express his thoughts in language which must be clear and to 
 the point, otherwise he is at his tutor's mercy. 
 
 Kelly took his work more seriously than he openly admit- 
 ted. It cost him money, and your good American gets his 
 money's worth. Five hours was his daily modicum of study, 
 if he had to steal the hours from sleep. Suddenly, how- 
 ever, came the spell of golf which for a fortnight obsessed 
 him so that, in his own language, he went to bed with his 
 mashie. He practised stymies of an evening on a baby green 
 which he had made by filling a large flat bathtub with turf, 
 and swished his driver before a full-length mirror in the 
 style depicted in his "Guide to Golfers." 
 
 The result was that the five hours dwindled down to two, 
 and Kelly one week actually cut his tutor. It was impos- 
 sible to plead an <zger, for that very afternoon on the links 
 he spliced a ball into that very individual. One morning, 
 on the second week of this infatuation, Charles and Har- 
 grove went to him for breakfast, and whether it was that 
 he was off his game, or conscience smote him, he declared 
 his intention of turning over a new leaf. 
 
 "Trouble is," he said, "that this week I haven't read a 
 line, and Blinkers sent me a note last night that his hour is 
 ten o'clock to-day, not the week after next. Guess it's 
 face the music for mine." 
 
 "I can help you," said Hargrove. "Doesn't Blinkers live 
 in Meadows, staircase three?" 
 
 "Sure thing." 
 
 "Well, if you can keep him going for twenty minutes, 
 we'll do the rest." 
 
 Kelly wished to know the plan, but Hargrove sucked 
 his pipe mysteriously and gave no answer but a chuckle. 
 
 As soon as Kelly had left them, Hargrove dashed up- 
 stairs to his rooms and fetched a piece of rope.
 
 28 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "Get some more," he said to Charles, "and meet me in 
 Clayton's rooms he lives right over Blinkers. Ask any 
 one to come who has a rope." 
 
 Within ten minutes, five or six conspirators were gath- 
 ered. Hargrove made them clear the table into the bed- 
 room, remove the ornaments from the mantelpiece and then 
 unfolded his plan. 
 
 "We will now," he said, "compete for the skipping cham- 
 pionship of Christ Church. Extra points will be awarded 
 to those who jump the highest. Through a regrettable 
 oversight, Mr. C. F. Blinkers, M.A., Student of Christ 
 Church, who occupies the rooms below, has not been ad- 
 vised of the contest, but if we commence with a competi- 
 tion between teams, three a side, he will soon realize that 
 something is happening. Proceedings will commence when 
 I blow this whistle." 
 
 It needed no persuasion to get them started. The stout 
 oaken floors creaked beneath the strain as the six leaped in 
 furious competition. It was not long before the scout came 
 running up. 
 
 "Mr. Blinkers' compliments," he panted, "and was this 
 intended for a h'earthquake or a volcano?" 
 
 "Ask Mr. Blinkers to come and see for himself," said 
 Hargrove, with a coolness that surprised them all. 
 
 The scout hesitated. He did not like to see an under- 
 graduate run the risk of being sent down. 
 
 Just then a stone came flying through the window. 
 Charles looked out, and saw it came from the American, 
 who had evidently been let off. 
 
 "Wait a jiff," he shouted to the scout, catching him in 
 time. "I'll go down and explain. It's all right now, you 
 fellows. The contest will continue in Kelly's rooms in 
 Peckwater. Hurry along." 
 
 Charles found Blinkers ruefully repairing a broken statu- 
 ette with seccotine, and gravely apologized. 
 
 "It wasn't very much worse than last year," said the 
 tutor. "That was when Blagden, the heavy-weight putting
 
 DRUMS AFAR 29 
 
 champion practised in the rooms above. Still even a teacher 
 of political economy can turn." 
 
 Kelly was pouring out drinks for the crowd when Charles 
 got back to Peckwater. 
 
 "Blinkers took it very well," he was saying. "At first he 
 looked up quietly when the plaster dropped from the ceil- 
 ing. 'Rhodes scholars, I presume, playing Euchre.' Then 
 at a terrific thump, 'I hope that isn't Clayton's head upon 
 the floor. It is not as if he were a Scotchman.' Then, when 
 the pictures started to fall down, he rose and said, 'Thank 
 you, Mr. Kelly, we can finish this next week. Perhaps in 
 the meantime it would be wise for us to seek refuge on the 
 Cathedral Spire. You may have the weathercock." 
 
 It was in the variety of types he met that Charles found 
 Oxford most entertaining. Books were all very well, sport 
 and the river were still better, but best of all was this 
 intercourse with men of different upbringing, circumstances, 
 character, ideals, manners. 
 
 Kelly was unique, and when they were better acquainted 
 and sat over the fire loosening their tongues with mulled 
 claret he cast the spell of the West upon our more sophisti- 
 cated Englishman. On several such occasions Mackenzie, 
 rubbing his tired eyes, would join them. 
 
 "What really brought you here ?" asked Charles of Kelly 
 on such a night. "You have your own American Univer- 
 sities, presumably the best on earth." 
 
 "Well, I am several kinds of a damn fool. I'm here 
 for a rest cure doing nothing makes me feel bully. I 
 like this quiet backwater where all I have to do is to play 
 around and feel good." 
 
 "I always thought you one of those post-graduate fel- 
 lows." 
 
 "Not exactly Diploma in Economics and Political Sci- 
 ence is what they have stuck me for. Tutor is one of those 
 metaphysical guys that keep you rubbernecking all the time 
 to find out what they mean. See, it's like this, I was an attor- 
 ney in Chicago graduated in the John Marshall School 
 after a mixed diet of textbooks and cases working in the
 
 30 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 courts and in the office from eight in the morning to two 
 the next, with no kind of a change unless I went to see 
 a baseball game partner in a live firm where we worked to 
 beat the band. Well, I got so that I couldn't smoke a cigar 
 without I had two meals under my belt, so Doctor says 
 to me one day, 'Mike/ he says they call me Mike over 
 there 'it won't do; quit right now, or you'll go bughouse. 
 Travel get some ozone into your system take a sea- 
 voyage go to Europe marry a pink English girl with no 
 nerves. You're using your own up at both ends.' Well, 
 I took Doc's advice and came over in the Adriatic did 
 Rome and Vienna and Berlin and Paris some burg Paris ! 
 and then to dear old England, and was beginning to feel 
 lonesome, till I came here. That was last summer in Eights 
 Week. Then, why, I just sat around and laughed till I 
 cried. Gee! to see them chickens " 
 
 "Chickens?" 
 
 "Why yes, girls flopping around Tom Quad and to 
 watch the races and see the barges and the boys in their 
 nice white flannel suits taking their best bets out in canoes 
 and punts, and the roses and the hedges and the lawns 
 staying as green as green without so much as a sprinkler. 
 'Mike,' I said, 'this looks good to me.' So when things had 
 quieted down a bit, I had a nice visit with the Dean, who 
 took me to see that portrait of William Penn and said he 
 liked Americans and that the only thing they needed to be 
 perfect was an Oxford finish Diploma was the word he 
 used. What finished me was the kitchen have you ever 
 seen anything to beat it ? forty feet square and forty feet 
 high, with tall windows like a cathedral, and long ranges 
 against the walls, and an old English open fire with a chop- 
 ping block in the centre and Cardinal Wolsey's old gridiron 
 still hanging up some kitchen, I tell you. Me for Christ 
 Church, I said here's the place where a fellow could 
 get back his appetite. Yet the Dean sold me on Christ 
 Church, so I asked him to set my name in the books. Well, 
 I came up early and cleaned all the junk out of these rooms 
 to make them more like home and here I am having a
 
 DRUMS AFAR 31 
 
 whale of a time sparring with the head cook and getting 
 back my appetite and studying economics and waiting for 
 the pink English girl." 
 
 "I have two sisters," said Charles, "both expert in the use 
 of rouge, who would be glad to oblige if only you had a 
 title." 
 
 "Call me descendant of Irish Kings. Oh, I should worry ! 
 My fate will come along in good time. But till then let 
 me eat and play golf and take sugar with my fingers and 
 think I am back in the Middle Ages with horse-cars and 
 no telephones or radiators, and paying Battels instead of 
 Bills and believe me they are some Battels, where they 
 charge like hell and then the husky old curfew of Great 
 Tom, with its hundred and one strokes every night still, 
 you have electric light." 
 
 "More's the pity," said Charles. "We should have stuck 
 to the old motto of the University Dominus Illuminatio 
 Mea." 
 
 "How do you translate that?" 
 
 "You might put it 'The Lord is my Lantern,' " said 
 Charles. 
 
 "I'm with you there, Fitz!" said Kelly laughing. "I'm 
 not one of those wise guys that want this Noah's Ark 
 brought up to the minute. I can get a room with a bath at 
 two or three hotels in London if I take my hat in my hand 
 and speak nicely to the manager. But honest to God I do 
 love to wake in the morning to hear Silas pouring cold water 
 into the large tin saucer you call a tub, and then get a whiff 
 of smoke from the chimney that won't draw as he lights 
 the fire. It brings back the old camp way back in the 
 bush, when Bill Foster and I went hunting and had God's 
 own time. Don't I wish I was there now! Well, I get up 
 and put the pan on the fire to warm my shaving water, 
 and by the time it's ready I'm due to be gated for missing 
 morning chapel. Yet perhaps it's as well I have to stay 
 at home with spotters prowling around whenever there's a 
 good-looker in sight." 
 
 "Spotters ? ah, proctors."
 
 32 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "You're a bright boy, Fitz we'll soon understand each 
 other. Then breakfast with no icewater to wash it down. 
 Then a lecture Say ! The old boy in his lecture yesterday 
 said that Cambridge was known as the largest cattle market 
 in the provinces. Do you know, Fitz, that took me way 
 back home to Chicago. Don't I wish I could show you our 
 stockyards. Oh, we've got a University too twice as many 
 students as you have here." 
 
 "Do you know them all?" 
 
 "Not on your sweet life, old man; but it's easier to 
 break in there than here Say, I like to see the gentle- 
 manly way you boys kick each other's shins here at foot- 
 ball without apologizing till you've been introduced, and the 
 ladylike way you talk and the old-fashioned way you have 
 of going on the jag Good night !" 
 
 "We're just going." 
 
 "Who said go?" 
 
 "You said good night!" 
 
 "Why, that's the American language and just means 
 'Can you beat it?' Savvy?" 
 
 ''All right, you heathen Chinaman, some day as a pen- 
 nance for my sins I shall cross the Atlantic to learn your 
 language." 
 
 "Sure do! Well, you may learn by then to speak more 
 like a human being, but it will take you longer than that 
 to think American. Now our Scotch friend here, Macken- 
 zie, he'd get the hang of it quicker he's a regular dollar- 
 chaser, has his eye already on a job in some University 
 away up near the North Pole, where he'll be a big bug and 
 write books that his students will have to pay for with good 
 money." 
 
 Mackenzie chuckled. He was a small almost stunted fel- 
 low with a large head, and obtrusive spectacles, who had 
 an almost uncanny capacity for work. "Smug" was the 
 term applied to such, for he took no part in games or sport, 
 being satisfied with a daily grind to Iffiey or Godstow, as a 
 rule in the company of other Scots. Oxford to such as 
 these was an expense the value of which must be extracted
 
 DRUMS AFAR 33 
 
 to the last penny. Their greatest relaxation was the Thurs- 
 day night debate at the Union. That indeed was almost 
 the only common ground on which Charles and Mackenzie 
 met, for Charles went there to learn from more practised 
 speakers and Kelly too found here in the introductory half 
 hour of "Private Business" the source of much innocent 
 mirth. 
 
 As the term advanced, the call of the river became of all 
 the most incessant. Charles began to understand the joy 
 of feeling the boat lift under a leg-drive, and learned the 
 knack of wrist-play and shoulder-work and body-swing 
 which at first seemed so difficult. 
 
 The discipline did him a world of good. The accom- 
 plished coach has the happy knack of making the self-satis- 
 fied Fresher realize that he is a babe who after a thousand 
 years might be permitted to go in a rowboat with a nurse. 
 Once reduced to a true understanding of his place in the 
 universe, the afore-said Fresher can be trained into the 
 modesty and perfect motion which wastes not an ounce of 
 misdirected energy his whole being attuned to a common 
 effort. The greatest of all crimes for any one but stroke is 
 to have an independent thought or be individually brilliant. 
 No place in the boats for the airy insouciance which one 
 may parade with impunity when with one's tutor. 
 
 Severe though the exercise might be, the sluggish, ener- 
 vating Oxford air made exercise a necessity for health. In 
 summer, perhaps, with the sunlight flooding the towers and 
 spires, Oxford may be "the silver city" of the poet's vision, 
 but from late October to early spring, from the last falling 
 leaf to the earliest lilac in the gardens of St. John's, it is 
 a city of dark greys and leaden skies. 
 
 Youth alone with effulgent spirit lightens the gloom, fills 
 the playing fields and the river with bright energy and 
 colour, beats down the fatal miasma with the flail of almost 
 perpetual motion. 
 
 Great was Charles's gratification when the captain of the 
 boats came round one evening to tell him he would have a 
 place in Torpids.
 
 34 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "Which logger?" he asked eagerly. 
 
 "Third," said the captain brusquely. 
 
 At which Charles felt snubbed, yet brightened again 
 when he considered that such a place was better than no 
 place at all. 
 
 This was news that he could not keep to himself, so he 
 ran down to tell Kelly. 
 
 "Why, that's dandy," said the American. "You make me 
 feel a regular slacker. Still, I have good news myself. 
 Friend of mine in Constantinople has hired the Sultan's 
 late chef who had poisoned the wrong wife, and so got let 
 out so I am booked for Christmas at the Golden Horn, 
 and if I don't come back with Turkish recipes enough to 
 make Hargrove into a Mohammedan call me a Dutchman." 
 
 Frank Mainwaring had also won a place in the same 
 boat, and Charles found he was already friendly with most 
 of the other members of the crew. 
 
 The College Examination known as Collections and the 
 Law Prelim were safely navigated, and when he went down 
 for his first Vacation he felt that his first term had not been 
 spent in vain.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 FULL of the glad news, Charles went home to Rich- 
 mond for Christmas expecting the welcome of a 
 hero. 
 
 "Very nice," said his mother. "But what friends 
 have you made at Christ Church? Have you met any 
 members of the aristocracy?" 
 
 "No," he replied, suddenly on edge, "but I know a man 
 who did." 
 
 "My dear Charles," cried his mother, "how can you come 
 home with such a story ! Think of the money your father 
 is spending on your Oxford career." 
 
 "Yes," said Charles, "and think of the money I am saving 
 him. If I were to go about with bloods, I'd have to join 
 the Bullingdon, and that would mean a thousand a year 
 besides they never would elect a Pauline. Fate has ordained 
 me to be an Ornament to the Middle Classes." 
 
 "How does the Ornament propose to earn a living?" in- 
 terjected his father from behind the Financial Times. 
 
 "I have a remote hope of becoming a publicist," answered 
 Charles. 
 
 "What sort of a saloon does he keep?" 
 
 "He serves the bar of public opinion higher journalism 
 and that sort of thing writes leading articles which in- 
 fluence current thought." 
 
 "If you could influence the stockmarkets, you would be 
 more useful. Pray don't mistake your father for a philan- 
 thropist." 
 
 "Charles, you have disappointed us," said Clara, the elder 
 sister. "We thought you could introduce us to the right 
 sort, when we came to visit you in Eights Week. You wrote 
 to us from Oxford on such nice crested notepaper that we 
 
 35
 
 36 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 thought you must really have got in among good people. 
 You said you had a German baron on your staircase." 
 
 "Did I ? Well he's supposed to be a spy. All those Ger- 
 man Rhodes Scholars are barons or vons and much too rich 
 to be honest. Try some one else." 
 
 "If only I had your opportunities !" 
 
 "Clara, my dear," replied Charles, "if your ambition is 
 to catch a title, why don't you join the chorus at the Gaiety? 
 All I can offer you at Christ Church is a lawyer from Chi- 
 cago ?" 
 
 "Do they allow them there?" cried Mrs. Fitzmorris. 
 
 "In Chicago? Why not?" 
 
 "Charles, do not be foolish. Of course I meant Chicago 
 lawyers at Christ Church." 
 
 "We positively dote on them," said Charles. "This one 
 is called Kelly he is the nicest man on my staircase and 
 speaks three languages in one. Has been ordered to marry 
 by his doctor. I gave him his choice of you two girls, but 
 I think he would prefer a milkmaid." 
 
 Clara shrugged her shoulders. Joyce, the younger sister 
 continued the interrogation. 
 
 "If you haven't met any titles, weren't there any with 
 double-barrelled names ?" 
 
 "Why yes, Staynes-Manners, also on my staircase, but 
 there is a regrettable tendency among us to call him Stag- 
 gers-Maggers." 
 
 "Father, dear," remarked Mrs. Fitzmorris, "I wish we 
 had sent Charles to some other college. He seems to have 
 got into low company." 
 
 "Better low company than high finance," said Charles. 
 
 At which his father, who found it difficult to keep up 
 with the social ambitions of his womankind, smiled indul- 
 gently and decided that his son had a certain amount of 
 common-sense. 
 
 This craze for blue blood had caused the elder Fitzmor- 
 ris some inconvenience in a sphere where petticoat influ- 
 ence seemed out of place, namely his business. To please 
 his wife he had allowed a lordling to be director in a com-
 
 DRUMS AFAR 37 
 
 pany he controlled, but he grudged the guinea-pig's fees. 
 Other such directors loomed within sight, and he wished to 
 heaven his wife would let the House of Lords alone. 
 
 Charles, before he went to Oxford, had laughed at the 
 snobbishness of his family, but not till now did he realize its 
 blatancy. His sisters echoed Society gossip, and the Christ- 
 mas vacation to which he had pleasantly looked forward 
 became distressing. He pleaded work when they wished 
 to drag him to Charity Balls or Bazaars, and when that 
 excuse failed shunned the house from early breakfast to 
 late at night. 
 
 There were two things about Oxford that Charles found 
 out in his first term. First, that the serious reading for the 
 Schools is done not in term but during the vacations, and 
 second, that the University itself is more or less a youth- 
 ful suburb of the House of Commons. To keep afloat, 
 he must therefore spend this Christmas in studying, first, 
 the books prescribed for his School in History, and, second, 
 the harangues of Lloyd George, the preciosities of Mr. Bal- 
 four and the diplomatic evasions of Mr. Asquith, which 
 were subjects of so much debate among the men he met. 
 Reading at home was subject to too much interruption, but 
 at the British Museum and at the London Library he could 
 immerse himself up to midday in the seventeenth century, 
 while after lunch he could swallow Old Age Pensions, Death 
 Duties, Woman's Suffrage, Land Taxes and Labour Ex- 
 changes. 
 
 In the evenings there were concerts and the theatre, more 
 particularly the theatre, where Charles discovered he had 
 an unexpected capacity for sentiment. He went to The 
 Blue Bird for the first time, and wept. He went for the 
 second time, and wept again. A third, a fourth and a fifth 
 time, still resulting in tears. 
 
 The sixth time he went, he was taken by his father, who 
 had never read the newspaper critiques and imagined that 
 as the play was so popular it must be musical comedy. Dis- 
 covering after fifteen minutes that it was a symbolic play 
 for children, he suggested they should pass on to the Em-
 
 38 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 pire, but was persuaded to remain. After further fidgeting, 
 the stock-broker grew quiet, and at the scene where the 
 children play again with their lost brothers and sisters the 
 tears began to trickle down his cheeks. Charles affected 
 not to notice, but, when as the play went on the tears 
 flowed again, he took out his own handkerchief and wiped 
 away his own tears so openly that his father took notice 
 and did the same. 
 
 "Who would have thought it possible," said Mr. Fitzmor- 
 ris after the play was over and attempted to regain his nor- 
 mal spirits over a little supper at the Carlton. "It's all very 
 well for you you are young and impressionable but I am 
 an old stager, hard as nails when it comes to business. I 
 believe this must be some hereditary weakness this weep- 
 ing over a play like bad teeth or a tendency to gout. I 
 must ask my doctor about it." 
 
 "Whatever it is," said Charles, "you seem to have passed 
 it on to me. Have you any other failings that I can look 
 out for?" 
 
 "Sometimes I have a homicidal mania," replied Mr. Fitz- 
 morris. "These young fellows the girls bring home seem to 
 bring it on." 
 
 "I've noticed that symptom myself," said Charles. "They 
 certainly are the worst kind of worm. If the feeling attacks 
 you again and I am around, let me do the shooting." 
 
 "By Jove," said the elder, "I'm glad to hear you say so! 
 I was afraid that Oxford would develop you into the same 
 kind of pup. The sins of the father may be visited upon 
 the children, but the affectations of the children are punish- 
 ment enough for the worst father I ever met. What kind 
 of men do you really come across at Christ Church ?" 
 
 Charles described some of his friends, more particularly 
 Kelly. 
 
 "Bring him out to the house if he comes to town," said 
 Mr. Fitzmorris. "He seems to be an original." 
 
 On the day before vacation ended, great was Charles's 
 joy to hear in Piccadilly the hail of his American friend. 
 
 "Hullo, Fitz, what's the best word?"
 
 DRUMS AFAR 39 
 
 Charles turned with a smile to welcome Kelly. 
 
 "Well, of all people! How did you find the Sultan's 
 harem ? Did you discover the secret of Turkish Delight ?" 
 
 "Wait and you'll see. Had the time of my life. Gee, 
 but all the same it is good to be back in this little old 
 village." 
 
 "Then you haven't met your fate yet ?" 
 
 "No, but I've got one on the string who in about a year's 
 time might let me in on the same level as her fox-terrier. 
 Fitz, you son of a gun, she's a peach, and has all the rest 
 of them faded." 
 
 "Glad to hear it, also to think that we shan't lose you 
 yet awhile. Does this mean you are captured?" 
 
 "Still a loophole, and I've got to keep my hand in, so if 
 you see something in petticoats just right, remember Kelly. 
 Who says a little drink? Gee! it's good to see your face 
 again. I'm glad to see you and glad twice over." 
 
 Charles hesitated. 
 
 "Not on the water-wagon?" 
 
 "No, but " 
 
 "Yes, but as an appetizer. I've struck quite a cute place 
 if you want to eat; corned beef and cabbage there's no 
 finer fruit in the world." 
 
 Kelly was irresistible. 
 
 "First of all a little cocktail," taking Charles's arm and 
 walking him into a bar over which there hung the sign 
 "American Drinks." 
 
 "Rosie," this to the barmaid "mix me a nice little 
 Ward Eight, and another for Fitz here, Fitz Rosie Rosie 
 Fitz." 
 
 "Pleased to meet you," said Rosie, offering a display of 
 gold and imitation diamonds which presumably concealed a 
 hand. Then to Kelly : "That's a new one. Tell me how 
 to mix it." 
 
 "It's what the Irish drink in Boston," replied Kelly. 
 "First a little ice then a squeeze of lemon then raspberry 
 juice and rye and soda and a shake and another squeeze of 
 lemon, and then you're ready to vote right."
 
 40 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "Does that mean two votes or three ?" said Charles. 
 
 "Mike," said Rosie, "you know we don't have ice." 
 
 "Then why 'American Drinks'?" 
 
 "I spoke to the boss about it, but he said if any customer 
 wanted it he could bring his own." 
 
 "Ice or no ice, Rosie, you are certainly some mixer." 
 
 Then after taking the cocktail which certainly tasted 
 good, he said : 
 
 "Now for the good old stand-by. Just round the corner, 
 corned beef and cabbage and pumpkin pie. Makes me 
 think of mother but, hell, this is no country for pie !" 
 
 "Makes me think of Hargrove," said Charles. 
 
 And they both laughed heartily at the recollection of that 
 adventure on the staircase. 
 
 His second term at Oxford taught Charles what it was 
 to be in strict training. Smoking was taboo, and he opened 
 his lungs before breakfast with a hundred yards sprint and 
 then a sharp walk round Meadows. At the training break- 
 fasts each of the Eight devoured a giant's portion lightened 
 only by squish otherwise marmalade and the green vege- 
 table known as rabbit-food. A sleepy forenoon and a light 
 lunch were followed by the muscular discipline of the river. 
 Then a cup of tea and relaxation until another heavy meal 
 at dinner, after which an hour in the J. C. R., bed at nine 
 o'clock, and an exhausted slumber. 
 
 Considering themselves to some extent champions of the 
 rest of the House, every eight of them, even though they 
 were only the Third Togger, inclined to put on airs. It 
 was the I sis, that weekly epitome of undergraduate wisdom, 
 which humbled them with the cutting reference: 
 
 "Christ Church have not a Fourth this year, and by the 
 look of their Third have some difficulty in raising that." 
 
 An indignation meeting was held in the rooms of Bayley, 
 the stroke, who proposed that they should kidnap the editor 
 and make him eat the insulting page in their presence, or 
 else be ducked in Mercury, the fountain in Tom Quad.
 
 DRUMS AFAR 41 
 
 Another demanded that a copy of the paper should be 
 publicly burned in Peckwater. 
 
 Better counsels however prevailed, particularly when 
 Jeffers, their coach, came in and told them that the Isis 
 was just about right. 
 
 "What it says is true now," he remarked. "But you 
 can make it look silly if you keep strict training and plug 
 like hell." 
 
 Jeffers was a fair-headed bull-voiced martinet who had 
 rowed for the House in last Summer Eights and therefore 
 was not allowed a place in Torpids. He had at the same 
 time sufficient tact to temper truth with sympathy. Just a 
 short time before, the 'Varsity, a snobbish rival to the Isis, 
 had uttered a now classic mot. 
 
 "The best men," it had said, "avoid the debates at the 
 Union." 
 
 Thinking of this Jeffers continued, 
 
 "The best men do not row in Torpids. They spend the 
 afternoon playing pills, auction bridge or other such manly 
 sport." 
 
 The laugh that greeted his remarks encouraged him to 
 proceed. 
 
 "They are above taking any interest in the good name of 
 the House to which they belong, or a pride in its place upon 
 the river. They train all day for their evening 'wines,' 
 culminating in 'rags,' the cost of which they are not too 
 proud to share with quieter mortals like you and me. Now 
 what we've got to do, every man Jack of us, is not to de- 
 generate into the example of the 'best men,' but to show 
 these arm-chair critics that they are wrong. I've just sent 
 the editor of the Isis an offer to bet a hundred pounds to 
 one that Christ Church III will go up three places. If you 
 don't go up, I'm so much out of pocket. But I think I'm 
 going to win." 
 
 "Good old Jeffers !" shouted Bayley, and "Good old Jef- 
 fers !" said they all. 
 
 Charles and Frank had meant to take at least one night 
 off for an O.U.D.S. performance of The Tempest, but
 
 42 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 loyalty to Jeffers put such thoughts out of mind, and from 
 that moment they and every member of the crew kept to 
 the strict letter of their regimen. 
 
 They were indeed a clean-cut, healthy minded set of fel- 
 lows sons of middle class parents, three of them scholars 
 and the rest commoners sent to the University to rub the 
 angles off their youthful ardour. 
 
 Bayley, the stroke, had learned to row at Radnor, 
 whereas the others were all new to the river. Jenkins, a 
 classical scholar, Todd and Moberly, who rowed seven, six 
 and five were all from Westminster. Frank Mainwaring 
 was four, Charles three, Grant, a Canadian Rhodes scholar, 
 was two, and Stanley, a tough wiry Carthusian, rowed bow. 
 Gilmore, the cox, who in spite of his diminutive size was 
 the only one of them to wear a moustache, was an Austra- 
 lian, and always at loggerheads with Grant, the Canadian, 
 on the respective greatness of their two countries. Gil- 
 more's moustache was the subject of much good-humoured 
 chaff. It won him such nicknames as that of the Wild Man 
 of Borneo, all of which made Gilmore tug his precious 
 appendage the more fiercely and retort that he would fight 
 any of those present when they grew up. 
 
 Training at first took ten pounds off Charles's weight, 
 then added the muscle which raised the scales again and 
 so enlarged his chest that the fancy waistcoats began to 
 grow tight. For a time he lost the inclination to replace 
 them. Harris tweeds and square-toed thick-soled shoes 
 were more now to his fancy than his first finery, and Silas 
 came in for a legacy which enabled his eldest offspring 
 next vacation to paralyze his fellows. 
 
 If Kelly had not been an American, and therefore subject 
 to the licence of a foreigner, Charles might have lost friend- 
 ship with one who took such little interest in the river. 
 They dined now during training time at different tables, 
 but on Sunday evenings Charles still dropped into Kelly's 
 rooms for a talk till the appointed bedtime. 
 
 With so much to distract him, the beauty of the old 
 buildings, the romance that clung to every corner left
 
 DRUMS AFAR 43 
 
 Charles indifferent. He found more interest in exercise 
 and good fellowship. Hargrove, the Westminster scholar, 
 who sometimes joined their talks, put in his word without 
 avail. Hargrove bicycled each afternoon to one or other 
 of the many fourteenth or fifteenth century parish churches 
 in the neighbourhood of Oxford. There some Norman door 
 or mural painting or brass or curious belfry charmed his 
 soul. 
 
 "The trouble with you, Fitz," said Kelly, "is that you 
 don't know how lucky you are to be here. It's fine and 
 dandy to be a good sport, but I've got a hunch that Har- 
 grove with his head chock full of ghosts has got you all 
 skinned. I sometimes get a rise out of him myself for 
 living before the Flood, but he has a soul and the rest of 
 us just appetites." 
 
 "Speak for yourself," said Charles. "Let us eat and 
 drink for to-morrow we may have to go down. You have 
 been reading too much guide-book. As an Englishman I 
 claim the right to do as I please, trusting that when the 
 time comes to get anything done I can pay some one else 
 to do it. Oxford to me means flannels and a sweater, 
 not cap and gown " 
 
 "What about fancy waistcoats?" interrupted Kelly. 
 
 At which Charles blushed but continued: 
 
 "If ever I come back to a Gaudy, it will be to renew old 
 friendships, not to see old stones. We belong not so much 
 to a University as to the House, and in the House only to 
 a Generation." 
 
 One group of buildings however did appeal to Charles, 
 and that was Magdalen, whose beautiful square Gothic 
 tower sang into the ravished sky its unheard melody. The 
 red of autumn flushed the trees when he had seen it first 
 from the Botanic Gardens, and as it shone so delicately 
 fair in the bright sun, more graceful than the slender 
 Lombardy poplar beside the gate, his soul trembled with 
 ecstasy. Magdalen Cloisters, too, with the brooding Foun- 
 der's Tower, were exquisitely satisfying, and on Friday 
 afternoons never if he could help it would he miss the
 
 44 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 service sung without organ by a perfect choir. Some might 
 have said that he was prejudiced and mingled his affections 
 with the memory of that Magdalen man, Dean Colet, who 
 had founded his old school, St. Paul's. But Charles paid 
 his homage to this great building without the aid of tra- 
 dition. 
 
 During the last few days preceding Torpids, tempers 
 were beginning to acidulate. The odds and ends of con- 
 versation had been used up at training breakfasts, they were 
 swinging badly in the boat, and the rumour had gone round 
 that if they did not show up well Christ Church III would 
 really be dropped in future. Charles's crew was all on its 
 nerves, and if a better showing had not been made at the 
 trial practices prospects would indeed have been black. 
 
 One spirit, however, breathed through them all. They 
 were determined to do their damndest, so that Jeffers should 
 not lose his bet. 
 
 "If he does," they said to each other, "of course we'll 
 pool the hundred. He's too good a sort for us to let him 
 down like that." 
 
 Thirteen boats rowed in the Third Division, another 
 melancholy omen, and of the thirteen Christ Church III 
 stood ninth. Owing to the narrow river these were bump- 
 ing races, all the competing boats starting at once with a 
 given space between. The races opened on a Thursday, 
 lasting till the following Wednesday, with Sunday as an 
 interval of rest. 
 
 It was Charles's first boat race, and as the shell slipped 
 down the river to the allotted place, and he watched the 
 rise and fall of the backs in front of him, he wondered 
 what they would do to him if he should catch a crab. 
 Probably they would rag his rooms and burn his furniture 
 well, that would not be much loss, but it would be a 
 nasty thing to live down. Worse still, Jeffers would have 
 lost his bet through him. The thought made him watch 
 his rowing all the more carefully. 
 
 All Oxford seemed to be trooping down the towing-path 
 towards Iffley, mostly in shorts, though some, particularly
 
 DRUMS AFAR 45 
 
 clergymen, were in ordinary dress. They evidently meant 
 to run alongside, and of course House men were much in 
 evidence. 
 
 Jeffers whispered his last words of advice to his men as 
 they lay alongside the bank, then they stripped and a pole 
 pushed them out far enough to catch water with their oars. 
 Jeffers, stop-watch in his hand, counted the fleeting seconds 
 ten nine eight seven six five four three two 
 one bang! the gun gave the signal as their oars struck 
 the water, and they were off. 
 
 Then for Charles it was tear tear tear with hardly 
 time to pant, his eyes glued to the necks of Four and Five, 
 his teeth clenched and his ears singing so that only a con- 
 fused sound came from the bank along which a wild horde 
 ran, whirling rattles, banging gongs, ringing bells, blowing 
 whistles, firing pistols, shouting "Well rowed House!" 
 Then the voice of Jeffers through a well-aimed megaphone 
 caught him, "Head up, Three!" and he answered with a 
 jerk of the chin. There must have been a bump under 
 the Green Bank, for two boats drifted past them. Charles's 
 throat was parched, but at Long Bridges he got his second 
 wind, just as they swept past another two boats, and with 
 a leap of the heart knew that he could hold out. Queen's 
 II was behind them at a safe distance and there was a 
 long gap behind Queen's. Keble had evidently caught St. 
 Catherine's. Coach said they were gaining on the boat 
 ahead. 
 
 They were at the Barges now one last spurt, and then 
 the race was over. They had not made a bump, but they 
 had held their place. 
 
 "Well rowed, all of you," came through the megaphone. 
 "You'll go ahead to-morrow." 
 
 In the Second Division, Christ Church II had better 
 fortune, moving up a place, but it was not till the First 
 Division races that Charles and Frank recovered wind 
 enough to join the House crowd on the towing-path and 
 yell for the boat which headed the furious procession up 
 the river. Kelly was there with a blunderbuss in each
 
 46 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 hand, puffing so hard that Charles was afraid he would 
 burst his lungs. Even the Bullingdon bloods condescended 
 to carry dinner-bells. 
 
 To-morrow came with a hurricane of rain and wind 
 almost swamping them when they took their place in line 
 at the starting place. It was impossible to do any fine 
 rowing in such weather the wonder was they could keep 
 afloat. Drenched to the skin and in thoroughly bad tem- 
 pers they finished the course in the same position as when 
 they started. 
 
 The third day's race was just as disappointing. A fierce 
 wind blew down and across the river, sweeping waves 
 over their bows, and gripping their oars. 
 
 There was never a Sunday in the history of England 
 when the weather was responsible for more bad language 
 than this. But it gave them a rest, and they still had three 
 days to run. 
 
 The most cheerful man of them all was Jeffers. 
 
 "This was just the way I wanted it," he said. "It would 
 have taken all the gilt off the gingerbread if you had won 
 it all at once. I believe that Isis editor has already spent 
 half the money in anticipation, and he'll be all the sorrier 
 for himself when he sees you romp ahead. All you have 
 to do now is to row the way you are rowing, and pray 
 for better weather. You pull together now, you have a 
 good leg-drive, your wrist work is the best in your Division, 
 perhaps you don't keep your eyes enough on the boat but 
 the only thing that keeps you back is this Hairy Ainu we 
 chose as cox. That moustache of his is too heavy on one 
 side we can't keep an even keel." 
 
 Gilmore gave a sickly grin, but said nothing. He was 
 as much disturbed as any of them, for he had his heart in 
 the boat and would have given anything to win. Anything ? 
 Yes, anything, even that long and flowing moustache, the 
 one thing that gave dignity to his otherwise boyish face. 
 
 On Monday at breakfast Gilmore was late. 
 
 "Go and wake him up," said Jeffers savagely to the scout. 
 "Pour his bath water over him."
 
 DRUMS AFAR 47 
 
 In a few minutes the scout reappeared with the message, 
 
 "Coming in a minute, sir. Mr. Gilmore says he's 
 shaving." 
 
 "Shaving! Good God, with only half a face to shave! 
 I'll teach him to shave," muttered the coach as he slashed 
 at his bread. 
 
 But when Gilmore appeared, a shout went up from the 
 whole room. His moustache was gone! He had taken 
 Jeffers literally at his word. 
 
 But in his eyes there was a happy look which held back 
 the joking comment on the tip of everybody's tongue. 
 Jeffers was the only one to say anything. 
 
 "By Jove, old man, you're a real sport." 
 
 "I thought I'd give you fellows an excuse to keep your 
 eyes on the boat," replied the Australian, with his queer 
 little laugh. 
 
 Somehow or other a new enthusiasm infected the crew 
 from the thought of this eccentric action. He was an ass 
 to do it, of course, but sporting all the same. If Gilmore 
 could do this, surely they could put an ounce or two more 
 into every stroke, and win that bet for Jeffers. Yes, by 
 Jove, they would! 
 
 That Monday indeed luck seemed to have turned. 
 
 The river seemed less like a storm at sea. 
 
 From the moment the gun went off they kept their heads, 
 and a positive tornado of delight greeted their ears when at 
 the Crossing they realized that they had caught Brasenose 
 II, the boat ahead. All the tribulation of the past few days 
 was now forgotten, and in magnificent style, after they had 
 let the mad racers pass, they themselves swept up to receive 
 their just ovation at the Christ Church barge. 
 
 Next day they vanquished Trinity II at the Long Bridges, 
 and on the third day caught Oriel II at the Red Post, and 
 thus had three triumphs to their credit. 
 
 Jeffers nearly pumped their arms off when he met them 
 again on the barge. 
 
 "Hurry up, you fellows, and come along to my rooms,"
 
 48 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 he whispered to each of them, nodding towards Gilmore. 
 "We must have a presentation." 
 
 They changed as quickly as possible, then seized Gilmore 
 and ran him shoulder high to Jeffers' rooms in Canterbury. 
 Struggling a little at first, the Australian soon accepted the 
 situation and with a pleased smile entered the gate at 
 Meadows waving the cap of a conquering hero. Through 
 the quadrangles they rushed cheering till they deposited him 
 on the table of Jeffers' front room, where they joined hands 
 and danced round him till the ornaments began to fall. 
 
 Then the coach called for quiet and produced a gold 
 case on which was the inscription, 
 
 "To A. S. Gilmore, 
 Cynosure of Christ Church III." 
 
 Gilmore received the case with beaming face. He 
 chuckled again and again as he read the inscription, un- 
 consciously feeling for the moustache that was no more. 
 
 "Open it," said Jeffers. "There's something inside." 
 
 Touching a spring, Gilmore revealed a bottle which amid 
 shouts of laughter they recognized as Hair Restorer. 
 
 "That's a good one," said the Australian, in excellent 
 humour. "I'll be able to beat the Kaiser with this." 
 
 Christ Church II had gone up four places, and Christ 
 Church I was still head of the river, so the House gave 
 itself up that night to celebrations. It was a triumph 
 w Drthy of wine, not beer or vulgar whisky. 
 
 After such rigid training virtuous indeed was the soul 
 that could resist the call to Bacchus. Charles and Frank 
 were neither of them paragons, and so in each other's com- 
 pany succumbed to the too frequent toasts, waking next 
 morning about noon with headaches lightened by the joy 
 of knowing they had helped to maintain the glory of the 
 House. 
 
 The strain and excitement of the races had been severe, 
 but Oxford quickly passes from one phase to another, and 
 soon both Charles and Frank found football calling them
 
 DRUMS AFAR 49 
 
 three times a week. This kept them well, and kept them in 
 a good, healthy set. Charles never was more healthy or 
 more happy, the only cloud upon his horizon being the 
 thought that term must end and he must go back to the 
 family refrigerator at Richmond. Great therefore was his 
 relief when after displaying a reassuring knowledge of 
 Scripture in the Examination known as "Divinners," Frank 
 came to the rescue with an invitation to spend the Easter 
 Vacation reading with him in the more democratic suburb 
 of Bedford Park.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 FRANK MAINWARING was the son of an artist 
 who belonged to a school no longer in fashion. 
 Formed under the inspiration of Ford Madox 
 Brown in the middle of the last century at a time 
 when the spirit of revolution was in the air, it had preached 
 the study of nature instead of convention and had included 
 among its early adherents Rossetti, Millais and Holman 
 Hunt. Its later and more decorative development drew into 
 the field such men as Burne-Jones, William Morris and 
 Walter Crane, but James Mainwaring painted in the earlier 
 method of precise and meticulous rendering of a legend, 
 the figures in which were drawn from actual persons cor- 
 rectly costumed in one strong definite light. 
 
 When the semi-artistic colony of Bedford Park was 
 established in Chiswick by certain kindred spirits, he took 
 one of Norman Shaw's red-brick white window-silled, 
 Queen Anne cotages and forgave the inadequate drains on 
 account of the excellent studio. It certainly was a charm- 
 ing suburb, with winding streets in which a tree was con- 
 sidered a thing too holy to be removed for a pavement. 
 A row of Lombardy poplars too sacred to touch stood 
 sentinel beside the Green, on which the offspring of the 
 neighbourhood flew kites or planned mischief. 
 
 Daughter of a brother artist, Mrs. Mainwaring had at- 
 tracted Mr. Mainwaring in her young days by her bright 
 manner and sympathetic interest in the movement which 
 was bringing new life and beauty into English domestic art. 
 But marriage and cares of a family had swamped that 
 interest, and by the time she was middle-aged, she was 
 very far from the ideal he had pictured when she first 
 captured his affections. He was however too loyal even to 
 remonstrate, and took her change as part of the same sad 
 
 50
 
 DRUMS AFAR 51 
 
 circumstance which had transformed the old-world villages 
 surrounding London into crowded jerrybuilt suburbs, ab- 
 sorbed in the perpetual if sordid problem of how to make 
 ends meet. 
 
 Although not so visionary as his friend William Morris 
 had been, Mr. Mainwaring was an ardent reformer, and 
 as he stood at his easel, with his grey hair and beard, wear- 
 ing a faded blue smock, the very picture of an old Chartist, 
 he discoursed in his gentle voice on the utter damnation 
 of kings and the humbling of the House of Lords. A 
 sociable fellow, he liked to work in company, and if Mrs. 
 Mainwaring herself was too busy called in his son, or Viola 
 his daughter, or Charles, so that he might have around 
 him that human atmosphere without which he could not 
 breathe. Charles indeed became very soon a favourite with 
 the old man, who loved to hear him sing the old folk songs 
 taught him by Hargrove. Viola played the accompaniments, 
 joining sometimes in duets which threw Mr. Mainwaring 
 into transports of delight. 
 
 Viola Mainwaring was a young lady, whose age for some 
 years had veered around twenty. On leaving school she 
 had attended art classes and now designed wall-papers, cre- 
 tonnes and other such objects of domestic art. She had 
 been through a course of book-binding with Douglas Cock- 
 erel, and several charming specimens of her skill lay upon 
 the drawing-room tables. Seen from behind one might 
 have said she was Burne-Jonesy, but nature had unkindly 
 given her a tiptilted nose, and though this was a style of 
 beauty in keeping with the period of Chaucer it was a 
 source of annoyance to this girl of the twentieth century. 
 A wealth of dark brown hair, a warm complexion and a 
 graceful figure gave her an otherwise attractive presence, 
 and the nose after all was in keeping with the eyes, which 
 shone with a cheerful disposition. 
 
 At first Charles was too shy almost to speak to her. He 
 had not thought of Frank as having a sister, and when she 
 first came into the room he was overcome by the unaccount- 
 able nervousness which halted his usual ready speech. She
 
 52 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 brought with her a faint, indefinable yet distinct fragrance, 
 her delicate hands were in themselves a delight to look upon 
 as she arranged the flowers with which the room was bright- 
 ened, or at mealtime daintily carried a fork to her mouth, 
 or pushed back the wisps of curling hair which would not 
 be pinned or controlled but kept straying wilfully into her 
 eyes. 
 
 If he had known more of the sex, he would have realized 
 that there was a certain art in her artlessness, that she was 
 interested in her brother's friend and desired to make an 
 impression, that she lingered a little longer in the sunlight 
 streaming through the baywindow and making an irri- 
 descent halo of her thick hair than was absolutely necessary 
 to water the plants. She knew the effect that the rustle 
 of a silk petticoat and the chink of an old-fashioned chate- 
 laine must have upon impressionable youth, and while as- 
 suming the air of an earnest ingenue was too much of a 
 woman to pass by the chance of having this good-looking, 
 healthy, well set-up young Oxford man at any time if need 
 be at her beck and call. 
 
 Her voice was musical, with a quality of husky warmth 
 which was the despair and admiration of her teacher of 
 voice production. 
 
 The conversation at table frequently turned on matters 
 of art, and when she spoke on such a subject it was with 
 thrilling intensity so different from the snippety, gossip- 
 ing small talk of Charles's own sisters. Viola seemed to 
 see only the beautiful in the pictures that were discussed, 
 and the fine points in the artist whom Frank was inclined 
 to criticize. Frank indeed at times seemed to suggest the 
 decadent, whereas Viola, with her squarer yet softer face, 
 had a saner, sturdier attitude to life which made her con- 
 versation wonderfully sympathetic. 
 
 Of course they went to see the Boatrace. There was a 
 House man in the Oxford crew, and it would have been 
 disloyal to have been within thirty miles of London and not 
 have gone. They could have witnessed the race from 
 Thornycroft's, but Frank voted for the Surrey side so that
 
 DRUMS AFAR 53 
 
 they could see more of the crowd. And, as Kelly would 
 have said, it was some crowd. Although they left the house 
 a good two hours before the start, Hammersmith Bridge 
 was already packed with a vast throng of those who had 
 taken up positions so as to see the boats pass underneath, 
 and therewith forced the others to take the middle of the 
 road. 
 
 "Sign that it's going to be a walk-over," said Frank. 
 "The race will probably be settled by the time the boats 
 reach the bridge." 
 
 "And Oxford seems to be the favourite," said Viola. 
 "Nearly every one is wearing dark blue." 
 
 They settled on a barge within sight of Barnes Bridge. 
 Near them a nigger minstrel beguiled the waiting minutes 
 with cheerful ditties, sending round the hat at judicious 
 intervals. The crowd on the towing-path swayed and 
 swelled till it was three or four deep, all in line for the 
 boats to appear. So great was the hubbub that one could 
 hardly hear the singer. Then suddenly by a sort of instinct 
 the voices died away, and there was straining of necks 
 towards Putney. 
 
 "They're off !" said some one, and sure enough the roar 
 of cheering swelled as the boats came up stream. 
 
 "Oxford's leading!" "Well rowed Oxford!" "Oxford 
 for ever !" rose into a confused thunder as it was seen that 
 Bourne had stroked his boat well ahead. Charles was ex- 
 cited and proud, yet found almost as much interest in the 
 crowd as in the race. He noticed that the nigger minstrel 
 who had hitherto shown no favours was tying a large bow 
 of dark blue Oxford colours round his neck. No doubt it 
 paid to be on the winning side. Viola was wildly waving 
 her scarf, and must have forgotten for the moment her 
 passion for wronged humanity. She certainly had an at- 
 tractive figure, and Charles was not the only man who 
 looked twice at her. 
 
 The boats were passing now, Oxford easily three lengths 
 ahead of Cambridge. In a few minutes the flag above 
 Barnes Bridge confirmed the victory, and with one last
 
 54 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 cheer the crowd broke up and pushed for home. Viola 
 was as happy as if she had won the race herself. 
 "I am so glad," she said, "I do love Oxford so." 
 "Yes," said Charles. "It has the prettier colours." 
 "Don't be silly it isn't that and it isn't simply because 
 Frank is there. But there's something about Oxford which 
 Cambridge has not got more romance, more poetry, more 
 beauty." 
 
 Frank Mainwaring himself had never gone through any 
 formal training at an art school, but in such an atmosphere 
 it would have been strange if he had shown no artistic 
 sympathies. Caricature was the form in which his art took 
 shape. He had the happy knack of catching the facial like- 
 ness, the attitude and the obvious character of any one he 
 drew, and had the gift, moreover, of being able to draw 
 as well from memory as in the victim's presence. Artistic 
 temperament indeed threatened his chances of a good 
 degree. He was more busy with his pencil than his books, 
 and Charles, who was himself no smug, soon found himself 
 just as well informed as this possessor of a scholarship. 
 When it came to taste in pictures, Frank was all for Wilson 
 Steer and Clausen and the painters who painted light, not 
 subjects, and took his friend to galleries which would have 
 laughed at his father's pictures. But like his father, he 
 believed in Philip Snowden and Sidney Webb, introducing 
 Charles to meetings of the Fabian Society and to the labour 
 movement. A pleasant walk near Bedford Park led to the 
 corner on the Hammersmith Mall near Kelmscott House 
 where William Morris used to hold forth. Old Mr. Main- 
 waring in his broad-brimmed hat loved nothing better than 
 to point out where the poet in dark blue suit and soft blue 
 collar and tie had preached his gospel to the working-men 
 of Hammersmith, waving a hand at what he likened to the 
 bridge of freedom over the river of despair. 
 
 It would have been also strange if the daughter of old 
 Mr. Mainwaring had not been in sympathy with advanced 
 political views. She sold copies of The Common Cause
 
 DRUMS AFAR 55 
 
 at the corner of the Bath Road, wearing the picture hat 
 which least accentuated her unfortunate profile. 
 
 Although he had lived in the same house as two good- 
 looking sisters, ever since he could remember, Charles had 
 hitherto entertained a somewhat disdainful opinion of the 
 fair sex. It had always been a cat and dog life in the 
 Fitzmorris family, the sisters in his short trouser days 
 wanting him to be neat and tidy when he preferred to play 
 in the mud and go to bed unwashed. Then when he was 
 of more mature school age, he had a contempt for the airs 
 of fashion they assumed, the fops they brought round to 
 the house, the idiotic dance music they played, their vapid 
 talk and patronizing attitude towards himself. Of course 
 he had realized from the books he read that men did fall 
 in love with women, but all that had seemed on the far 
 horizon so far as he was concerned. Once or twice he 
 vaguely longed to make the acquaintance of some par- 
 ticularly striking actress, especially Edith Wynne Matthi- 
 son, of whom he went the length of buying picture post- 
 cards and with whom he thought out imaginary conversa- 
 tions leading up to a discussion of souls and immortality 
 in the moonlight, but then some one told him she was 
 already married and that actresses were too high-strung 
 to live with, for more than a week at a time and that until 
 one was thirty the most comfortable way of living was to 
 take a flat and have one's meals at the club. 
 
 A few weeks in the company of Viola, however, showed 
 him that his own sisters were not the only type of female, 
 that a sister could be affectionate to her brother, could be 
 fond of good music, could take an intelligent interest in 
 things and be altogether human. 
 
 Mr. Mainwaring was subject to rheumatism on damp 
 days, and so long as he lived in London that meant roughly 
 three hundred days out of three hundred and sixty-five. 
 Charles who did his reading in the studio in a corner near 
 the stove found himself therefore on rainy days once or 
 twice alone with Viola. Put a young Oxford undergraduate 
 on vacation at a distance of twelve to fifteen paces from
 
 56 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 an attractive girl, with nobody else in sight, and the chances 
 are seven hundred billion and thirty-two to one that he 
 inclines to grow sentimental. She may be absorbed in the 
 design of a perfectly wonderful wall-paper, but his thoughts 
 turn to the problem of whether or not she can become 
 absorbed in the less decorative but more vital him. Hold 
 before him the most learned, the most scholarly, the most 
 incontrovertible tome written in French, German, English 
 or Esperanto, and he will read the pages line by line without 
 remembering a single word, the only line in his thoughts 
 being the line which might possibly lead from her heart 
 to his. 
 
 As Charles sat thus one torrential afternoon before the 
 end of the vacation, tilting his chair at such an angle thai 
 he could see the glint of her hair over Voltaire's Siccle de 
 Louis Quatorze, he realized how utterly inexperienced he 
 was in the art of approaching the Delectable Fair. After 
 half an hour's deliberation on this point, Viola suddenly 
 let down the drawbridge. 
 
 "Penny for your thoughts," she said. 
 
 "Make it twopence, and you are welcome." 
 
 "Mercenary youth! Very well, split the difference 
 three halfpence." 
 
 "I was wondering," said Charles, "whether it would ever 
 be possible for a girl like you to be attracted by a fellow 
 like me." 
 
 "Charles Fitzmorris !" she exclaimed, turning round with 
 a gesture so startled that her easel and tumbler and water 
 colours fell with a crash to the ground. "Whatever do you 
 mean ?" 
 
 "Oh, merely in the abstract," he said confusedly, going 
 forward to pick up the debris. "I didn't say 'you' and 'me,' 
 but 'a girl like you' and 'a fellow like me.' " 
 
 "Oh, you did, did you?" 
 
 She watched him replace her things, then go back to his 
 chair and light a cigarette. With a touch of humour she 
 herself whistled a few bars of Chopin's Funeral March. 
 Then she continued deliberately.
 
 DRUMS AFAR 57 
 
 "The usual thing for a girl to say to a man under such 
 circumstances is that she will be a sister to him. Honestly 
 I feel more like saying that a girl like me would be a mother 
 to a fellow like you. She would feel not three but thirty 
 years older than one who is still little more than a school- 
 boy quite a nice schoolboy, but without any character or 
 individuality of his own. Even when you are finished with 
 Oxford you will just be beginning. I am perfectly happy 
 as I am, and don't believe I shall ever be married, but if I do 
 it will be to a man who has fought for recognition and 
 won it independent of his parents and able to stand in the 
 world without anybody's help. I am trying to earn my 
 own living myself. How could I possibly respect a man 
 sufficiently to live with him if our income depended on an 
 allowance from his parents?" 
 
 "That," said Charles, "seems rather more like marrying 
 a profession than a man. What a fellow like me feels 
 attracted by in a girl like you is the voice, the face, the hair, 
 the distinction of dress, not the brain or the ability to earn 
 an income. But that, I suppose, is a schoolboy's notion of 
 love." 
 
 "Don't put it like that," she said. "Can't you see that 
 independence is merely the outward sign of character, and 
 if you want to live day in and day out with any one you 
 must have more than physical affection ?" 
 
 "No, I am too young to see life in that way," he replied. 
 
 "Then you are too young to think of marriage," she 
 said. "Do let me make you some toffee." 
 
 "If I had more experience," he began, wincing under 
 the snub then like a flash he thought of Kelly as the ideal 
 she had pictured. The very man! 
 
 Just then Mrs. Mainwaring and Frank came in from a 
 walk, and clamoured for tea. Viola said they could have 
 "studio tea," and filled the kettle with water from the tap. 
 As she brought it over to the stove, Charles said : 
 
 "I wish you would come to Oxford for Eights Week. 
 I want to introduce you to an American friend. I'd like to 
 hear you two argue."
 
 58 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "I'm willing to argue with any man," said Viola, who 
 seemed suddenly to remember that she was a suffragist, 
 "who thinks the place for woman is the home." 
 
 "That's not Kelly's view," said Charles. "He says the 
 place for woman is the beauty parlour." 
 
 "How vulgar an expression!" said Mrs. Mainwaring. 
 
 "Oh, it's just American for the shop of a complexion 
 specialist," explained Viola, "Mrs. Pomeroy and that sort 
 of a thing, I know it we get the Ladies' Home Journal 
 at the Club." 
 
 "So you belong to a Club," said Charles. 
 
 "My dear Fitz," said Frank, "the Bath Road is strewn 
 with the latch-keys that Viola loses." 
 
 "Tell me more about that Kelly person," demanded that 
 young lady of Charles. 
 
 "He says he is looking for an English rose healthy, 
 fresh and innocent." 
 
 "Those Americans want the whole earth," said Viola 
 impatiently, "and this one seems worse than usual. Does 
 he really think he can make an English girl forgive his 
 accent ?" 
 
 "He's rich enough to make the mouth of the average girl 
 water," replied Charles. 
 
 Viola sniffed. 
 
 "If this American looks for a tame rose for his button- 
 hole, let him buy a German." 
 
 "Frau Karl Druschki is my own favourite variety," said 
 Mrs. Mainwaring innocently, and could not understand 
 why the others laughed. 
 
 "What's the game?" asked Frank of Charles when they 
 were alone. "Do you want to make a match between Kelly 
 and Viola?" 
 
 "Do you object?" 
 
 "On the contrary, go ahead! I think he would do her 
 good, and it's time we got her off our hands. But don't 
 say anything of this to mother. She considers matchmaking 
 her pet preserve."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE first days of a new term are largely consumed 
 in comparing notes. Charles found that many of 
 the men of his year had spent Easter travelling on 
 the Continent. Jenkins, who had rowed seven in 
 the same boat in Torpids, had gone with a reading party 
 of other classical scholars as far as Greece, Hargrove had 
 been studying the great cathedrals of Northern France, 
 while Grant, the Canadian, had found time to visit his 
 family at Ottawa. 
 
 These tales of travel suggested lost opportunities. There 
 was some sense after all in long-drawn-out vacations, if 
 they gave a man a chance to see the world. 
 
 Frank Mainwaring agreed on Germany for the Long Va- 
 cation. An Anglo-German Association in Oxford gave 
 advice to men wishing to visit or know more about the 
 Fatherland. Here they borrowed a translation of Heine's 
 "Harzreise," and remembering George Canning's rhyme 
 about the 
 
 U- 
 niversity of Gottingen 
 
 decided on that Georgian Augustan seat of learning, where 
 the pronunciation was said to be the purest and Englishmen 
 were traditionally welcome. 
 
 Kelly said that instead of going to the Continent they 
 should study their own country. 
 
 "These are the most wonderful little islands in the 
 world," he said. "I spent last Easter automobiling, and I 
 wish it had been a year. You pass from one county into 
 another and find separate races, talking languages so 
 different they don't understand each other swear. Each 
 little village is in a groove over which time passes without 
 
 59
 
 60 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 their knowing it. Why, I supposed I was Irish till I went 
 to Ireland over in the West where my ancestors belong. 
 They had no more use for me than for the devil. I was 
 a Yank and the priests thought me an emigration agent. 
 There's four Irish centuries between me and my grand- 
 father." 
 
 "You speak as if you were piqued," said Charles. "Some 
 Irish colleen must have jilted you. Never mind, if you 
 can keep heart-whole till Eights Week, I've got something 
 in petticoats for you that may send you back happy to 
 Chicago." 
 
 In the meanwhile spring crept on apace. Before the 
 insidious charm of green leaves and flowery meadows and 
 sunshine and the river, the books prescribed for Schools 
 had little chance. Neither Frank nor Charles had any hope 
 of getting into either of the Eights, so they decided that 
 their "ecker" should be golf and tennis. 
 
 Kelly and Charles shared a punt where they found ample 
 food for conversation in discussing each other's institutions. 
 Ever since they had met, Kelly had never ceased to impress 
 on Charles the wonderful efficiency of everything American, 
 and Charles out of sheer cussedness decried it. He ridi- 
 culed the magazine articles which Kelly made him read on 
 model factories and lightning-quick business men who had 
 become Presidents of billion-dollar corporations before their 
 hair was grey. He groaned at Kelly's favourite short-story 
 heroes, stern clean-shaven salesmen who made spectacular 
 deals and who after skipping sixty intervening pages some- 
 where among the advertisements decided to marry the 
 daughters of the rivals whose business they had smashed. 
 
 "Your heroes bore me to extinction," said Charles. "They 
 talk shop all the time, even when they are sitting in the 
 moonlight with the heroines. It's not surprising that both 
 England and the Continent are overrun with American 
 women who have left their husbands at home. The wonder 
 is they ever married them at all. Your millionaires seem 
 too busy even to make friends." 
 
 Charles, on the other hand, roused Kelly's sarcasm by
 
 DRUMS AFAR 61 
 
 declining either to stay up all night or rise early enough to 
 hear the Latin hymn on May Morning sung by the choir 
 on the top of Magdalen Tower. 
 
 "No five a.m. for me," said Charles. "We keep up pagan 
 ceremonies for our visiting Colonials and Americans. But 
 that does not mean that we have to go ourselves. If I could 
 count it as a Chapel, I might go, but not unless. Besides, 
 it is sure to rain." 
 
 Kelly was vastly excited over the expected visit of Theo- 
 dore Roosevelt to Oxford. 
 
 "He is the typical American," said Charles, "trotting 
 round the globe with ready citicisms which distract atten- 
 tion from the shortcomings of your own United States. 
 Not that we object. If Roosevelt only were to give his 
 Romanes lecture at five o'clock on May Morning on Mag- 
 dalen Tower instead of that Latin hymn, all Oxford would 
 get up to hear him. Nothing gives us greater pleasure 
 than to be wakened up to our weak points. We go to sleep 
 expressly for the purpose." 
 
 Thus they whiled away the afternoons under the willows 
 on the Cher, chaffing each other and blowing cigarette rings 
 and watching the parade of paddling or punting youth. 
 When they felt more energetic, they explored the back- 
 waters, quiet streams through mossy woods and meadows 
 starred with daisies. 
 
 Summer hats and gowns appeared on the Broad Walk. 
 
 "Your time is coming now, Kell," said Charles. "Steel 
 your heart against too easy capture. A pink cheek may 
 conceal a suffragette." 
 
 "Why not?" replied the American. "Believe me, my 
 stenographer in Chicago is just as good a lawyer as I am, 
 and if she wants to vote she's welcome. My own mother 
 is a practising attorney earning ten thousand dollars a 
 year. You folks here need women to run things for you 
 more than you think. A woman housekeeper would be 
 mighty fine even in the House. The waste and graft here 
 is a fright." 
 
 Then one morning at about seven the world was wakened
 
 62 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 by the tolling of Great Tom. Silas opened the door just as 
 Charles slipped out of bed. 
 
 "What's the matter, Silas ?" 
 
 "The King is dead, Sir," said the old man huskily. 
 
 "Dead!" 
 
 Of course the King was known to be ill, but no one had 
 expected anything so sudden. Charles had never taken 
 much interest in Royalty, but he was shocked by the news. 
 
 At first it was thought that all sports would be stopped, 
 but other counsels prevailed. Eights Week was not can- 
 celled, but postponed till after the great funeral. Roose- 
 velt had to keep quiet for three weeks. Charles however 
 was saved from an impending visit from his family. 
 
 Memorial services on the day of the funeral made 
 Oxford a city of mourning, but on the following Tuesday 
 the fanfare of the trumpeters heralded Vive le roi. For the 
 rest of the week, gaiety was certainly subdued, but youth 
 is hard to suppress. 
 
 "People," otherwise the sisters, mothers, fathers, cousins, 
 second cousins, uncles and maiden aunts of the lucky or 
 unlucky undergraduates were less in evidence than usual 
 at Eights Week. Many like the Fitzmorrises decided not 
 to come. 
 
 The Mainwarings, however, arrived, frankly unaffected. 
 
 "The best thing about the whole funeral," said Mr. Main- 
 waring, "is that the Times was forced to employ artists, 
 and to illustrate as well as to describe the ceremonies. It 
 takes the death of a king to wake up Printing House 
 Square." 
 
 On the first day of their visit, Charles had arranged 
 luncheon for the party at his rooms, and loaded every avail- 
 able vase with flowers. There were six persons to provide 
 for, but he had food for a dozen, and Silas, who saw at 
 last a reasonable perquisite, smiled and brought out his 
 own silver coffee service lent as a rule only to ground-floor 
 men. 
 
 "How do you like my rooms?" 
 
 "Charming," said Viola, looking at the flowers; then
 
 DRUMS AFAR 63 
 
 casting a critical eye at the wall-paper, "You must let me 
 choose something more virile. This is too Early Vic- 
 torian." 
 
 "Kelly," said Charles, "thinks that design of any kind 
 upon a wall covering is barbaric." 
 
 Viola, who had barely noticed the American, flushed and 
 turned to face him. 
 
 "I suppose you escaped the Early Victorian era in the 
 United States." 
 
 "Not altogether, but we ran to horse-hair rather than 
 to plush. Our favourite decorations were samplers worked 
 with mottoes such as 'What is home without a mother,' and 
 memorial portraits with obituary poems reading : 
 
 'So we come, 
 
 And so we go, 
 But where we go to 
 
 I don't know.' 
 
 In one corner of the room was a what-not " 
 
 "What is a what-not?" interrupted Viola. 
 
 "One definition is that it is a small table with shelves 
 supporting those things which no one has had the presence 
 of mind to destroy seashells, and coral, and pampas grass." 
 
 "And that is the age to which you would relegate wall- 
 papers ?" 
 
 "Not exactly," protested Kelly. "It's all nerves with me. 
 I find less chance of nightmare in a room without a pattern. 
 There's more rest in simple spaces of tone and light." 
 
 "And yet," said Viola, "we are told that you Americans 
 surround yourselves with the Stars and Stripes." 
 
 "On the contrary, Life, which -corresponds to your Eng- 
 lish Punch, hit the mark when it said that one Navajo 
 blanket, one Portrait of Whistler's Mother and one talking 
 machine equals one refined American Home. Old Glory is 
 a dandy decoration in its place, but we can't live up to it 
 all the time, Miss Mainwaring. We are really a sombre 
 people, and come to Europe for the colour that our ances-
 
 64 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 tors left behind when they crossed in search of the dollar. 
 We break out only on the Fourth of July." 
 
 "I should like to see your rooms, if you will permit me." 
 
 "On condition that you all come there to-morrow for a 
 little luncheon party." 
 
 Viola was wildly excited at this her first visit to Oxford. 
 
 "To think of it!" she cried. "Here at this very Christ 
 Church Sir Philip Sidney and Ben Jonson were once 
 undergraduates and all the statesmen Gladstone and 
 and oh, why do you men have all the privileges ?" 
 
 "Well, you can live at Somerville or Lady Margaret 
 Hall," said Charles. "And if you are very good and can 
 find a chaperon you may come here to tea." 
 
 "Yes, but that is different. These women's colleges 
 haven't the traditions, and we we don't " 
 
 She hesitated for a word. 
 
 "You don't belong," suggested Kelly. 
 
 "That's it," she said, thanking him with a smile. "Now 
 if Queen Elizabeth had realized her opportunities, she would 
 have given women the same chance here as the men, and 
 then we shouldn't have had three hundred years' handicap 
 to catch up. If we had had more say here, I think England 
 would have been a better country." 
 
 "How so?" asked Kelly, interested in her enthusiasm. 
 
 "We would have educated our women to be better com- 
 panions for their children, and the children would have 
 grown up more likely to be better citizens. The reason 
 why progress is so slow is that only one half of the human 
 race has taken part in the work." 
 
 The Mainwarings however had come to Oxford to see 
 the races, not merely to argue on education, so as the after- 
 noon drew on they were anxious to make for the river, 
 where from the Christ Church barge they saw and were 
 thrilled by the glad mad procession. 
 
 What more charming sight has England than the Broad 
 Walk and the banks of Isis in the Week devoted to Eights ? 
 Youth is there, ever so gay, and Middle Age, and Old Age 
 infected by the prevailing air. A sombre note, it is true,
 
 DRUMS AFAR 65 
 
 greyed dresses and dimmed the sparkle of the visitors, in 
 memory of the dead King, but the faces were not sad 
 how could they be, when the sun was shining, the trees 
 were green, the river reflected the blue sky, and Youth 
 would run its race? 
 
 Yet there were some long faces before the first day 
 was done. Christ Church started Head of the River, but 
 when the first of the boats came into sight of the Barge it 
 was New College that was leading. The House had fallen 
 to Magdalen just outside the Gut. Christ Church II had 
 bumped Oriel earlier in the day, but triumph in the Second 
 Division was poor consolation for this greater lapse from 
 grace. All the prophets had "told you so" but it was a 
 bitter pill for those who had so long held the pride of the 
 place. 
 
 "Poor old Jeffers," said Charles, and described to Viola 
 the incident of Gilmore's moustache. 
 
 "Lucky we have something this evening to cheer us up," 
 said Frank. "I've got six tickets for You Never Can 
 Tell." 
 
 "Oh Frank," cried Viola, "you are a dear!" But what 
 a pity it is Bernard Shaw. I hate him so." 
 
 "It is not whom or what you hate or like," said Frank. 
 "It is what is good for you. I thought it right for you to 
 see the character of Mrs. Clandon in that play and realize 
 the kind of woman you will be when you are fifty." 
 
 "I've seen her already horrid creature," replied Viola. 
 "Frank was always the enfant terrible," she added, turning 
 for sympathy to Charles. 
 
 "Brothers will be brothers," replied the latter. "Why do 
 you dislike Shaw?" 
 
 "Of course he is abysmally clever, and all that sort of 
 thing, but I wish he had chosen some other cause than 
 Socialism for his self advertisement. Theosophy or Chris- 
 tian Science would have done just as well and they would 
 have been glad to have him. No one will ever take Social- 
 ism seriously so long as G.B.S. is supposed to be one of the
 
 66 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 elect. And now he is tagging himself on, at a safe distance 
 it is true, to the Suffrage Movement." 
 
 "I thought," said Charles, "you suffragists believed in 
 anything for an advertisement, so long as it drew attention 
 to the Cause." 
 
 "No," she said, "you forget I am not a militant. To my 
 mind it never pays to be anything except sincere. Don't 
 you think so, Mr. Kelly?" 
 
 Kelly, who was drinking in every word she said, chimed 
 in with 
 
 "You bet your bottom dollar." 
 
 In spite of her dislike, Viola was infected by the gaiety 
 of the audience and laughed immoderately at the play. 
 
 "You can't deny that Shaw is clever," said Charles. 
 
 "Yes," she replied, "but already he is meeting his due 
 fate. Last time I saw this play it was delicately sentimen- 
 tal. Now even the actors refuse to take him seriously, and 
 play it as a wild farce." 
 
 "Shaw has met with a worse fate than that," remarked 
 Frank. "He is now admired by the Germans." 
 
 Kelly ingratiated himself into the good graces of the 
 Mainwarings by his knowledge of Oxford, a knowledge 
 which he had acquired in his tourist days. Charles had 
 fallen into disgrace when he confessed that he did not know 
 which had been Ruskin's rooms at Christ Church, and had 
 never heard of the Art Museum. Whereas Kelly led the 
 way to the Morris and Burne-Jones tapestry at Exeter, 
 knew all about the stained glass in the Cathedral, showed 
 them the Holman Hunts and the Ruskin water-colours in 
 the New Ashmolean, and proved himself so excellent a 
 cicerone that the Mainwarings were charmed. When they 
 arrived at his rooms for the promised luncheon, Viola was 
 visibly impressed. 
 
 "William Morris could have lived in this room," she ex- 
 claimed. "Have you ever been to Japan, Mr. Kelly?" 
 
 "Only once," he modestly replied. "You see I've been 
 too busy until now to travel much."
 
 DRUMS AFAR 67 
 
 "Only once!" cried Viola, who had never been out of 
 England. 
 
 "Eve was only once in the Garden of Eden," remarked 
 Charles. 
 
 Viola wore a silver-grey gown and hat which harmonized 
 admirably with the room. She walked slowly round study- 
 ing the arrangement, followed by Kelly's eyes. 
 
 Three golden lilies stood in an old French centre-piece, 
 and the table was set out for luncheon with a service of 
 ornate blue and red faience, new to both Frank and Charles. 
 Viola was fascinated. 
 
 "Isn't this Rouen enamelled ware?" she asked. 
 
 "Very near," replied Kelly. "I had it copied from a 
 pattern of Louis Poterat. It's from the period of history 
 Fitz is said to study. That's why I got it." 
 
 "My goodness !" she exclaimed. "An expensive study if 
 you carry it to this extent." 
 
 "Never fear," said Charles, "this is Kelly's hobby and 
 not mine. Personally I prefer any old dish I can shy 
 with good conscience at my scout. This fancy ware would 
 make me nervous. Kelly, old man, what else have you up 
 your sleeve? Is lunch a la Louis Quatorze?" 
 
 "You've hit it, my boy following the tracks of Bechamel, 
 the guy who mixed the sauce that made King Louis famous. 
 I've got our head cook so tame, he'll eat out of my hand. 
 He fell for Consomme Colbert and Turbot a la Vatel and 
 Mignon d'agneau Madame de Maintenon and he'll float 
 along with patisserie of the period, or I miss my guess. 
 It's wonderful what Englishmen will do when they are up 
 against it." 
 
 Whether the menu was really of the period or not, it 
 certainly was delicious. Charles observed Viola, whom he 
 had known almost as a vegetarian, calmly accept her second 
 helpings ; there was nothing that she did not sample twice. 
 
 "Kelly," he said when they had sighed over a sweet that 
 melted in the mouth, "this is forcible feeding. I believe 
 you are an Anti-Suffragist." 
 
 Kelly grinned.
 
 68 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "No," he said. "I'm not strong at any time for Antis. 
 Put me down as an American who likes to stick with things 
 to the finish." 
 
 Peckwater, which in other terms was rather a tame 
 Georgian quadrangle, now was ablaze with flowers. Every 
 window had its box and Kelly for his had chosen flowers 
 all of an orange vermilion. When they had finished 
 luncheon and were leaving the quadrangle for the river, 
 Charles drew Viola's attention to this note of colour, har- 
 monizing with but at the same time distinctive from the 
 rest. 
 
 "Isn't it typical ?" he said. 
 
 To which she answered, 
 
 "He certainly has character." 
 
 On the second day of the races New College followed 
 Magdalen's success, and the House fell back to third place. 
 Balliol was behind now, and if Balliol had gone up on the 
 third day deep indeed would have been their humiliation. 
 The death of the King was now but a trifle compared to the 
 impending danger. 
 
 A thousand tons seemed to have been lifted off the heart 
 of every House man when on the third day Christ Church 
 kept its place on the river only third, it was true, but thank 
 heaven not fourth. 
 
 "You take it all so much to heart," said Viola, as they 
 walked back through Meadows to the Old Library. 
 
 "Why not?" answered Charles. "The House gets into 
 your very blood when you have lived in it for a while. 
 You feel its triumphs as a personal victory, and its losses 
 as a personal defeat. If we had fallen to Balliol, the only 
 thing to do would have been to get drunk and try in that 
 way to forget disgrace. Balliol ! of all the ghastly fates !" 
 
 During the mornings, old Mr. Main waring wandered 
 about from college to college, "intoxicated," as he himself 
 said, "with this debauch of English Gothic." 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring was less exalted. All she dreamed of 
 now was to see her daughter comfortably married. Here 
 in three thousand undergraduates she saw three thousand
 
 DRUMS AFAR 69 
 
 possible sons-in-law, and their variety suggested only a 
 wider choice. Art, she knew, was but a precarious source 
 of income, and if it had not been for her own two hundred 
 pounds a year Frank would never have gone to Christ 
 Church. 
 
 Among the friends that Frank brought round to meet 
 Viola, she therefore beamed benevolently on the better 
 dressed, made discreet inquiries about their homes and 
 peoples. Somehow or other she took comparatively little 
 note of Kelly in the light of possible suitor. A foreigner 
 to her belonged to another sphere. 
 
 Charles suspected that she had a warm corner in her 
 heart for himself, by no means a despicable match from 
 her point of view. He smiled as he thought of the surprise 
 the old lady would have when she discovered his intrigue. 
 And yet, if Viola and Kelly did not make a match, he 
 would not have been altogether sorry if that failure meant 
 a better chance for himself. For Viola was never so 
 charming as in these Eights Week days. There was not 
 a prettier girl on any of the barges, and she had the tem- 
 perament in which he knew he could find companionship 
 should ever she forget she was three years older and en- 
 courage his still untrammelled affection. 
 
 Eights Week had been limited to four days, so that Kelly 
 had little enough time to woo. Still he seemed to miss no 
 opportunity of speaking to Viola. 
 
 The last evening was devoted to an expedition on the 
 Upper River to Godstow. Viola was a trifle disappointed 
 at the flatness of Port Meadow, but fell into raptures after 
 they floated into the shady water below the lashers where 
 the Trout Inn offers its plain but hospitable shelter. There 
 a supper of corned beef and lettuce, cheese and shandygaff, 
 ending up with strawberries and cream, quickly disappeared 
 from the tables under the trees. After which they paid a 
 visit to the little old village of Wytham, with its thatched 
 and moss-grown, red-tiled roofs humming with bees, where 
 Kelly said there was more ivy on the walls and houses 
 than could be found in the whole of the U. S. A., while
 
 70 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 nothing he had seen in England reminded him so much 
 of a New York sky-scraper as the hollyhocks in the gar- 
 dens. Before they started downstream, they crossed the 
 rustic bridge from the Inn and sat on the bank of the main 
 stream opposite the Nunnery, where they watched the dusk 
 fall on the Nun's Chapel under the tall elms and on the 
 ruined walls capped with ivy. 
 
 Dusk mellowed into a tender moonlight night, and on 
 the return downstream Kelly and Viola shared the canoe, 
 leaving the punt for the other four. 
 
 "Kell is certainly making the pace," said Charles to 
 Frank. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring evidently began to get anxious, and 
 urged Frank to go faster when the canoe threatened to 
 pass out of sight. Yet when they did catch up, neither of 
 the two showed sign of embarrassment. 
 
 At last the train carried the visitors back to London. 
 Charles dropped in that evening after supper to see if 
 Kelly would own up to anything. The latter was sitting 
 on the window-seat smoking a long cigar in an absent-mind- 
 ed sort of fashion. 
 
 "Well, what do you think of Viola?" asked Charles, 
 determined to have it out. 
 
 Kelly blew two or three clouds of smoke before replying, 
 then said enigmatically, 
 
 "She's not the kind of medicine Doc recommended." 
 
 "That's rather unfair, isn't it?" said Charles. "Viola 
 seemed to like you, and you certainly were leading her on. 
 She is a nice girl and now you would throw her over be- 
 cause she does not fit the exact description of your ass of a 
 doctor in Chicago. Why don't you go back to him?" 
 
 "Just what I mean to do," replied Kelly. "He can find 
 this pink English girl for himself. I've quit." 
 
 "Viola does not perhaps correspond to the Christmas card 
 English dairymaid," expostulated Charles, "but she is per- 
 fectly healthy." 
 
 "You bet your life," replied Kelly, "but her point is
 
 DRUMS AFAR 71 
 
 that the husband also must prove healthy before he earns 
 his wife." 
 
 "Have you asked her ?" 
 
 Kelly nodded. 
 
 "Won't she have you ?" 
 
 "She's side-tracked me until she is thoroughly posted 
 on my past moral and physical history. We had a heart 
 to heart talk in that canoe last night why couldn't you 
 have run that punt into us and upset us so that I could 
 save her and put some romance into the thing? She was 
 perfectly frank, and I tell you she had me blushing as 
 well as herself. The moon was shining bright as day, so 
 I could see. It took all her time to get out what she 
 thought she had to say, but I guess the way she's been 
 brought up she had to say it or bust. 'Mr. Kelly,' she said, 
 'I like you or I wouldn't say what I'm trying to say now.' 
 She had her head turned away, but she faced round then 
 and made herself look square into my eyes. 'I want to be 
 the mother of worth-while children, and I've been taught 
 enough to know I can't be that unless my husband has lived 
 cleanly. Chicago's a long way off. How do I know what 
 your life has been there? If your doctor could give you a 
 clean bill of health ' " 
 
 "So that's your hurry," said Charles. 
 
 "Fitz, old man, this is serious. Honest to God, I have 
 led a clean life not that I wouldn't have strayed from 
 the straight and narrow if I hadn't had reasons for one 
 thing I've been too busy went to work when I was eleven 
 saved enough to attend night-school worked my head off 
 ever since, except for that one little trip to Japan, and I 
 took my mother with me then. But these New Woman 
 notions are the limit. I'd rather go again before the State 
 Bar Examiners than face Miss Mainwaring again in that 
 canoe. Well, I guess she had a perfect right, only what 
 she said didn't seem to fit in with the moonlight and the 
 stars and the river. Regular eugenics fan." 
 
 "What did you say?" 
 
 "Well, I got sort of personal, and said I too was taking
 
 72 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 some on trust for instance her taste in wall-papers. I 
 said I understood she designed them, which meant that I 
 might have to live with them, and to my mind the peace 
 of a home could be wrecked just as easily by wall-papers 
 as by vice. Would you believe it? She laughed and said 
 she agreed with me she's an artist, sure thing." 
 
 "Did you tell her what your life had been?" 
 
 "What would have been the use ? She would never have 
 believed me without a witness." 
 
 "That depends upon the story," said Charles. 
 
 "Say!" said the American, as if struck by a new idea. 
 "Is that so? Do you English believe anything without 
 an affidavit? I'll tell it to you, old man, and you can say 
 if it sounds good." 
 
 He drew a fresh cigar from its case, lit it thoughtfully, 
 drew and exhaled one or two long draughts of smoke. 
 
 "Let me tell you, first of all, that of all the cities in the 
 United States, for graft, for vice, for degeneracy and for 
 crime, Chicago tops the league. And let me tell you, if 
 a woman there goes wrong and lets the gang get their 
 hooks on her, she has as much chance as a snowball in 
 hell. I've had too many cases connected with the Red 
 Light district to think the so-called life of pleasure means 
 anything else for the women than dead-sure damnation. 
 I have seen too much of the underworld ever to help to 
 keep a woman under. Since I was eleven years old, I 
 have worked all day and .half the night to be independent, 
 self-supporting and self-respecting. While my mother was 
 waiting for the clients who would not come, I was earn- 
 ing enough as messenger-boy to pay my schooling and feed 
 and clothe us both. 
 
 "No one except Mother was kind to me, no one ever 
 gave me a nickel I did not earn. My one stroke of luck 
 before I was fourteen was when I found a dollar bill upon 
 Michigan Avenue. It took me a month to make up my 
 mind how to spend it, and then I spent it on new gloves for 
 Mother. Then when ten years ago luck turned, and we 
 both began to pile up the bank balance, I certainly had my
 
 DRUMS AFAR 73 
 
 invitations to the dance. Bright lights looked good to me, 
 and tasty food and the gay restaurants. No damned psalm- 
 singing church for me. I earned my own money, and could 
 spend it as I chose. Money is a good thing to spend, and 
 I could lick up the booze because I liked it. Mother it 
 was that kept me straight on women. 'Mike, dear,' she 
 said, 'the cost of a woman's soul is too high a price to 
 pay for the pleasure of a night.' I have respected her wish, 
 because she has been all the world to me, and I would sooner 
 die than give her pain. So on that side my sheet is clean." 
 
 He spoke with such intensity that Charles was stirred. 
 Instinctively he stretched out his hand. 
 
 "Thanks, old man," said Kelly, grasping it, his voice 
 husky with emotion. "I see you believe me." 
 
 "Who couldn't believe you?" said Charles. "Why don't 
 you tell her your story as you have told it to me?" 
 
 "Perhaps I shall," said the American. "But when I do, 
 I'll take no chances, I'll have my witness handy."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 KELLY carried out his threat of going back to Chi- 
 cago at the end of the term, but Silas, when he 
 heard of the intention and asked the American 
 whether he intended to give up his rooms, received 
 for his inquisitiveness nothing but a Niagara of oaths. 
 
 Baron v. Gleyn, the German Rhodes Scholar, who seemed 
 to have heard that Charles and Frank were planning a 
 trip to his country, had recently become more affable, and 
 recommended them to go by way of Hamburg. 
 
 "The mistake so many Englishmen make," he said, "is 
 to take the Dover-Calais boat, and look on Paris as the 
 gateway to the rest of Europe. The German door, how- 
 ever, opens into the North Sea." 
 
 Charles and Frank therefore decided on the Harwich 
 boat. 
 
 They were urged to stay up for Commem, but this meant 
 little else than garden parties and balls, for which neither 
 of them had much inclination. Charles had never taken 
 much to dancing. He was tongue-tied with nearly every girl 
 he met, and nothing bored him so much as the people in 
 North Oxford for whom Commem was apparently the 
 crowning joy. Frank, who had just been deluged with 
 unpaid bills, shuddered at the probable expense and was 
 anxious to make up for the work he had neglected in 
 term. He wished to start reading as soon as possible. 
 Besides, he argued, if they went at once, they might see 
 something of German University life, as the summer Semes- 
 ter appeared to last longer into the year than the Oxford 
 summer term. 
 
 So by the very first train permitted, they rushed to Lon- 
 don and Harwich for the boat to Hamburg. 
 
 It was a longer route, but good weather sped the voy- 
 
 74
 
 DRUMS AFAR 75 
 
 age, and a game or two of quoits on deck soon broke the 
 ice among the fellow passengers. 
 
 As the steamer entered the mouth of the Elbe, they began 
 to understand why Baron v. Gleyn had recommended them 
 to come this way. Passing Cuxhaven they were overshad- 
 owed by a transatlantic giant of the Hamburg-America 
 line, taking its passengers aboard by tender. 
 
 "One of Ballin's Babies," said the mate, leaning against 
 the rail and spitting into the sea. 
 
 "Who is Ballin?" asked Charles. 
 
 "Who gives Kaiser Bill his pocket-money?" replied the 
 mate. "He's the cleverest Jew in Europe, worth all our 
 own shipping men put together. There's not an Austrian, 
 a Ruthenian, a Russian or a German emigrant but pays 
 his toll to Ballin's Pool. Talk of your Standard Oil or 
 Steel Trusts!" 
 
 As they swept up the Elbe, they passed other liners 
 bound for the River Plate, for East Africa and for Aus- 
 tralia, and then when they reached the harbour of Ham- 
 burg itself, a swarm of tugs, motor-boats, ferries, tenders 
 and lighters scurried to and fro, churning up the water. 
 
 Quays stretched to left and to right of them, lined with 
 ships discharging or taking in cargo, evidence of enormous 
 traffic. 
 
 "Near a million tons of shipping is run by the Hamburg- 
 American alone," said the mate. "And there's the N. D. L. 
 at Bremen and all the others." 
 
 "One can't blame them, after all, for wanting a Navy," 
 said Charles. 
 
 "Blame them !" replied the mate. "We have been pretty 
 smart to bluff them out of it so long." 
 
 At the station they had two hours to wait before their 
 train departed, so they sauntered out for a brief survey. 
 It was a blue-sky summer day, and the Alster was gay 
 with yachts and row-boats and swans. The grass on the 
 banks was beautifully cared for, and the streets bore all 
 the evidence of a proud city. What struck them most, 
 however, was the display behind the great plate-glasses in
 
 76 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 the Alsterdam proof of the wealth to which such shops 
 must cater. 
 
 The people in the streets did not look so very un-Eng- 
 lish. There were more soft hats than one would have 
 seen in London and both men and women on the whole 
 were stouter, but many who were talking German might 
 easily have passed for Piccadilly so far as clothes would 
 count. 
 
 It was not till they were in the train and had moved 
 out of the seaport atmosphere that they felt they were in 
 a foreign land. By mistake they had chosen a so-called 
 Bummelzug which seemed to spend more time at than 
 between stations. However, they had such entertainment 
 in watching passengers that the day passed quickly enough. 
 
 What took their fancy most were the piccolos or boy- 
 waiters who ran along the platform with their trays and 
 sing-song of : 
 
 "Belegte Brodchen, kleine Wiirstchen, Bier, Cognac, Ar- 
 r-r-o-o-omatik !" 
 
 By the time they had reached Hanover, Charles and 
 Frank agreed they had never seen so many plain men and 
 fat women in so short a time. 
 
 At Gottingen they had arranged for board with a Ger- 
 man family Frau Pastorin Schmidt was the widow at the 
 head of the house, a good-natured, motherly soul with a 
 homely but clever daughter, Emma, and two grown up sons. 
 Here for the modest sum of two hundred marks or ten 
 pounds a month they had each of them an airy bedroom 
 with each of them a large wooden bedstead holding a deep 
 mattress, spotless linen, large square feathery pillows and 
 a small down quilt which it would have hurt the old lady's 
 feelings not to use in the hottest weather. In addition they 
 had a sitting-room with painted floor which Minna, the 
 Dienstmadchen, loved nothing better than to mop every 
 morning. Stiff, old-fashioned furniture gave the house an 
 atmosphere which would have passed for Early Victorian 
 in England. 
 
 Frau Pastorin was a born housewife, rising at six, and
 
 DRUMS AFAR 77 
 
 except for her afternoon nap, in which she probably 
 dreamed of her kitchen, doing from morn to night the thou- 
 sand and one things the born housewife thinks necessary. 
 Ever since two and twenty years ago when she had borne her 
 daughter Emma into spectacles and the Evangelical Faith, 
 she had commenced to work upon the Ausstattung or outfit 
 of household linen without which no true-born German 
 husband will take a wife, and though that would never 
 be complete to her motherly satisfaction even if Emma 
 lived to be a virgin of a hundred and twenty, still the 
 great closet in which it was stored was now very nearly 
 full. 
 
 Much needlework had meant much sitting and much 
 straining of the eyes, so that Frau Pastorin was stout and 
 spectacled as well as grey, but there was something par- 
 ticularly charming in the gentle smile with which the old 
 lady greeted them whenever they met. Her blessing of 
 Gesegnete Mahlzeit after each meal came from a generous 
 heart, and they learned to say the words themselves just as 
 sincerely, for she provided fare which would have made 
 the mouth of even Kelly water. 
 
 Emma, a youthful replica of her mother, was born, as 
 has been said, into the Evangelical Faith, but into No Faith 
 At All were born the two sons Herr Dr. Med. Georg 
 Schmidt and Herr Cand. Chem. Karl Schmidt, both of 
 whom with punctilious bows presented their cards to Charles 
 and Frank. Karl the younger studied chemistry at the 
 University, devoting ten hours a day to the thirtieth part of 
 an experiment which would be summarized by his profes- 
 sor at the end of a year. Then if his work was approved 
 and he got a good degree, he might be taken on as assistant 
 in the great man's laboratory, and in that hope was con- 
 tent to slave, with no relaxation beyond beer and an occa- 
 sional evening at "Skat." 
 
 The older son, Georg, was greater grief to his mother. 
 He had his degree of doctor of medicine and had been 
 promised a partnership by an uncle at Berlin when he re- 
 turned from a trip as ship's surgeon. But the sea had so
 
 ?8 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 roughened his manner that the uncle had cried off, and 
 Georg was going once more abroad. Travel made him 
 thump the table for German overseas expansion. 
 
 "If only we had a naval Bismarck," he would roar, "one 
 who realized our world commerce needed as great a Navy 
 as our German Army. But you English have it all your 
 own way, all except in business. We are beating you 
 there." 
 
 Then he would bellow statistics till the old lady trem- 
 bled lest he should drive away these good-paying English 
 boarders. One might not think there was much she could 
 save out of the plenty she provided, but Frau Pastorin 
 was thrift itself, got the last pfenning out of old rags and 
 boots that an Englishwoman would have thrown or given 
 away, wasted not an ounce of meat or vegetables, and thus 
 without respite scraped for the Mitgift or dowry of cash 
 which would accompany the Ausstattung and cement her 
 Emma in the affection of the destined lover. 
 
 Her fear lest Charles and Frank should be driven away 
 was groundless. They knew that England was a discarded 
 love among the young Germans. They had come here to 
 learn the language, not to convert the Anglophobe, and 
 Georg was an interesting type. 
 
 Their English clothes at first attracted irksome notice 
 in the streets from small boys who pursued them shouting, 
 "Engelander Geld-verschwender, 
 Engelander Cafe-brender !" 
 
 They therefore bought German hats and left their clothes 
 unpressed so as to look less unlike natives. 
 
 The peaceful German town with its old ramparts turned 
 into a promenade, with its gaily capped and banded stu- 
 dents, with its barracks full of soldiers had much that was 
 quaint and interesting. Charles and Frank were fascinated 
 by the drill-yard where the young soldiers learned to shake 
 the ground with the Paradetritt. Relentless indeed was the 
 discipline under which they drilled. See for instance that 
 officer back his horse into the face of a private slightly 
 out of alignment. At hot-high noon each day, one bearded
 
 DRUMS AFAR 79 
 
 infantryman was put through solitary drill by a ferocious 
 sergeant. 
 
 "Tried to evade service by emigrating to America," ex- 
 plained Georg. "Never took out his papers as American 
 citizen and came back here on business thinking he would 
 be forgotten. This is his punishment." 
 
 "But at his age?" 
 
 "He will surely break down." 
 
 "Perhaps die?" 
 
 "Very likely." 
 
 "What then does Germany gain?" 
 
 "An example." 
 
 The benefit of military training on a nation of such 
 heavy beer-drinkers was however obvious without it they 
 must surely die of racial dropsy. Charles could not help 
 admiring the sturdy fellows who made the air vibrate with 
 their full-chested soldier songs as they marched along the 
 country roads. 
 
 "We must join the O. T. C. next term," he said. 
 
 Frank laughed in derision. 
 
 The coarse black Pumpernickel which the soldiers them- 
 selves found so monotonous was looked on as a delicacy in 
 the civilian household, and Frau Pastorin used to send 
 Minna to wheedle some of her soldier friends into selling 
 their rations. Minna was nothing loath, for this enabled 
 her to make known her own attractions and find out how 
 much some Hans would take to be her lord and master. 
 
 Of the fine evenings there was the Stadtpark to which 
 most of Gottingen repaired for beer and the local civil or 
 military band, or sometimes more distinguished orchestras 
 from other cities. For a small provincial town the music 
 was astonishing, and the family character of the audience 
 made it all the more pleasant. Until the close of the sum- 
 mer term, the students filled the tables allotted to their 
 various clubs, several odoriferous with antiseptic and ban- 
 daged from recent duels. The foreigners forgathered at an 
 International table, at which Charles and Frank met Amer- 
 icans, Dutch, French, Greeks, Hungarians, and Japs, all
 
 8o DRUMS AFAR 
 
 fraternizing over ice-cold lager and drinking "Ich komme 
 mit," or "Ich komme nach" according to student etiquette. 
 
 "Why don't you fellows try Oxford or Cambridge?" 
 asked Charles of a burly Californian. "We have our Amer- 
 ican Rhodes scholars, of course, but these are few in com- 
 parison with the Americans here." 
 
 "Reason obvious," replied the Californian. "We come 
 here to study, not to acquire an English accent or learn 
 your style of rowing." 
 
 "Has Cambridge no chemists, nor Oxford scholars?" 
 asked Charles. 
 
 "One or two muddle through," replied the other, "just 
 as your army muddles through a war. But times are 
 changing, and your methods are too costly. A German 
 degree is dollars and cents to us. It stands for scientific 
 method, not pleasant manners. We pay to come to Ger- 
 many. We are subsidized to go to Oxford." 
 
 The wildest gaiety Frau Pastorin could think of was a 
 picnic at Plesse, a walk through the forest to the top of 
 the hill where beside the ruin there was beer for those who 
 brought their own Butterbrot and sausage. From there, if 
 it were a Wednesday, and not too late, one could go on to 
 the open air dancing in the woods at Mariaspring. But the 
 old lady was happiest in her own garden, fresh from her 
 afternoon nap, drinking coffee with a neighbour who 
 dropped in to sew or knit for company. Charles and 
 Frank would sit and listen, picking up here and there a 
 phrase they could understand. 
 
 To Charles Frau Pastorin took special fancy. As they 
 sauntered along a path through the woods one day, she 
 stopped at a great silver birch and showed him how to 
 strip off bark in sheets. 
 
 "That is what you should write your love-letters on," 
 she said with a smile. "It is more romantic than ordinary 
 paper, and a girl loves romance." 
 
 "I wish I knew the girl," said Charles, "but honour 
 bright, I have not met her yet." 
 
 "Herr Je!" exclaimed the old lady, "How cold blooded
 
 DRUMS AFAR 81 
 
 you must be! To think that any one so amiable could 
 live to twenty without a single affair! We always imagine 
 the English to be so romantic. They marry whom they 
 choose, if they are in love, and do not ask for a dowry. 
 Well then if you cannot find a fellow-countryman, let me 
 find a Fraulein for you. Would you wish her light or 
 dark?" 
 
 "Light is nicer than dark in the case of beer," said 
 Charles. 
 
 She shook her finger at him. 
 
 "Ah, you are as matter of fact as our German men. 
 But I prefer to be more sentimental. Heine, our dear Got- 
 tingen poet, was right when he said, 
 
 " 'Like a great poet, Nature produces the greatest effects 
 with the fewest materials sun, trees, flowers, water and 
 love that is all. If indeed the last is wanting to the heart 
 of the beholder, the whole is likely to seem to him to be a 
 daub the sun is only so many miles in diameter, the trees 
 are good for firewood, the flowers are classified by the num- 
 ber of their stamens, and the water is wet.' " 
 
 "I believe you write poetry yourself," said Charles at 
 random. 
 
 Frau Pastorin blushed, then seized him by the arm, and 
 looking round to make sure that no one was listening, said, 
 
 "Yes, I do but none of my children know it. I write 
 under a pen-name, and in the evenings Emma sometimes 
 reads aloud my verses from the magazines we get through 
 the reading-circle." 
 
 "I hope she likes them." 
 
 "I think she does. I know she sometimes buys extra 
 copies, and cuts my poems out to send to a particular 
 friend; but Georg, if he is there" here she sighed 
 "laughs and makes fun of them. 'Why can't our poets be 
 more up-to-date,' he says, 'why can't they write about food 
 and cooking, instead of this everlasting Liebe. We Germans
 
 82 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 don't have Liebe any more. We just have Verhaltmsse! 
 What you call relationships." 
 
 Charles knew enough German now to understand the 
 double-meaning, and blushed. 
 
 "Yes," she continued, "Georg is rough in his talk. It 
 all comes from going to sea. If only we Germans left 
 the sea to others, we should be more happy. The sea 
 seems to get like beer into the heads of our young men 
 it makes them coarse and boisterous and impatient with 
 the old home life. They want our cities to be world- 
 cities, and they talk of war as if it were a pleasant thing. 
 But I lived near the frontier in 1870, and I have nursed 
 the wounded. May it never be again in my time !" 
 
 In the mornings Charles and Frank took German les- 
 sons from a whiskered beer barrel, Herr Privat Decent 
 Wolff, a rolling though inaccurate encyclopaedia. 
 
 "Every English house," he would insist, "has 'Burke's 
 Peerage' on the hall table. Shakespere got his plays from 
 German sources, jawohl, and Schiller's translation is greater 
 than the original English. All the finest Shakespere schol- 
 ars are Germans. The English force their criminals to join 
 the army, because it is cheaper to keep them in barracks 
 than in gaol. The British Empire is dissolving just as the 
 Roman Empire fell when it had become too scattered to 
 defend with Roman soldiers. The English fear to go to 
 war except with native races." 
 
 With malicious joy Herr Privat Docent used as textbook 
 for their lessons Treitschke's "Die Politik," in which the an- 
 tagonism between Prussian and English ideals is accentu- 
 ated by that firebrand Professor of History. 
 
 "The German historians are the greatest," said this Ger- 
 man, "and the greatest of German historians is Treitschke 
 who says that the English are a nation of robbers. With 
 your hypocritical diplomacy you ask for a 'naval holiday' 
 and preach a European peace so that you can steal new ter- 
 ritory in Africa. No, no, we have polished our German 
 spectacles and can see through all this trickery. We de- 
 mand our place on the sea, as well as in the sun. See
 
 DRUMS AFAR 83 
 
 where the great Treitschke says 'The dreadful prospect pre- 
 sents itself of England and Russia dividing the world be- 
 tween them, and then it is not certain which would be 
 more immoral, more terrible the Russian knout or English 
 gold/" 
 
 "Worse than either," said Charles, "would be the Prussian 
 'Verboten.' The English may be rich and may be robbers, 
 but their victims find them very pleasant to live with. 
 On the other hand Bismarck, the greatest hero of your 
 great historian, used to say it was impossible to get out of 
 bed and walk to the window without breaking a Prussian 
 law. The same great hero, before the war of 1870 com- 
 plained to William I that he was the first Hohenzollern 
 who had not grabbed some one else's land." 
 
 "Unsinn!" cried Herr Privat Decent, "You are never 
 serious. Let us continue our reading." 
 
 Although there was little excitement about this life in 
 Gottingen, both Frank and Charles were perfectly content. 
 They managed to get through a great deal of reading, thus 
 making up for the neglect of the past three terms. The 
 exercise they took was a daily spin on bicycles which they 
 found well suited to the very fair German roads then a 
 swim in the Leine. When the University session was at 
 an end, and the hot days of August drove those who could 
 afford it to the seaside or to the mountains, they showed 
 no signs of moving, much to Frau Pastorin's relief. 
 
 Ere they went back to England, they were reminded of 
 the darker side of this idyllic existence. Frau Pastorin 
 came back white-faced one afternoon from a neighbour's 
 Kaffeeklatsch saying that Frau Professor Himmelfahrt, 
 one of her frequent visitors, had been informed against to 
 the police for saying that the Kaiser was half -crazy, and 
 had been condemned to three months gaol. Fraulein 
 Emma's dearest friend, engaged to a lieutenant, was in- 
 structed by his Colonel to break off the engagement as he 
 did not think her dowry adequate. 
 
 When they got tired of bicycling, they found many a 
 pleasant walk in the surrounding woods. Little foot-paths
 
 84 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 ran beside many of the country roads with their fringe of 
 heavy laden cherry trees. 
 
 "Viola should be here," said Charles one day, as he 
 watched a group of peasants trudging home, the women 
 laden with burdens, and the men walking behind with hands 
 in their pockets. 
 
 It was a letter from Viola that reminded them of and 
 made them look forward to the coming term at Oxford. 
 
 "Just think !" she wrote, "Mr. Kelly has come back from 
 America with his mother, and taken the lease of a house 
 in the Park. He called to introduce her, but has not called 
 again. She is a clever woman, I should say, and from 
 what mother can hear has learned more about her neigh- 
 bours in a week than we who have lived here for years." 
 
 Kelly back in England and with his mother ! And in Bed- 
 ford Park! This looked like laying siege to Viola.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 IT was with more self-confidence that Charles faced 
 his second year at Oxford. As a Freshman he had 
 hesitated to assert himself beyond what might be con- 
 sidered good form. Now he could patronize the new 
 Freshmen himself, and as he drove up to Canterbury Gate 
 he fancied the Porter touched his hat with more diffidence, 
 while the Messenger who brought up his trunks spoke to 
 him with a respect due to the memory and further hope 
 of tips. 
 
 What gratified him most was that the Dean stopped in 
 his stride to shake hands with him in Tom Quad. 
 
 Kelly was there, smiling as ever. 
 
 "Hello, Kell, how are you?" 
 
 "Not too bad, except that some fool grippe got a hold 
 of me a fortnight ago. Came up yesterday to get accli- 
 matized." 
 
 "Anything new?" 
 
 "Baths, my boy real baths, with hot and cold water. 
 Talk of scrapping the old horse-cars and putting on motor- 
 buses same as London. Spanish Duke and Indian Prince 
 among the Freshers. Kaiser Bill's Best Friend has left our 
 staircase and is replaced by an Eton bug. Silas has gone 
 batty because Hargrove has put up an altar in his bed- 
 room. Silas says 'To 'ell with the Pope,' and if this means 
 incense he'll quit his job and run lodgings." 
 
 "Yes, and about yourself what does the Chicago doctor 
 say?" 
 
 "Says I'm a bad actor, and that I have some nerve not 
 to be on my honeymoon. Dosed me with seven particular 
 kinds of poison, and told me to return to Europe and be 
 good." 
 
 "I hear you have brought your mother with you." 
 
 85
 
 86 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "Why yes, the old lady was crazy to see Buckingham 
 Palace and the Tower of London and the Old Cheshire 
 Cheese ; then perhaps run over to Killarney in the summer 
 and kiss the Blarney Stone she's for the high spots, I 
 tell you." 
 
 "Taken a house in Bedford Park, I hear." 
 
 "First Garden Suburb in London celebrated artists and 
 actors every second house bath-room, electric light, tele- 
 phone, two minutes from the station, trains every three 
 minutes, twenty minutes from the Bank, and all the modern 
 conveniences that's what the house agent says." 
 
 "What does Viola say?" 
 
 "Miss Mainwaring? Tried to talk mother into Votes for 
 Women. Found she had gotten hold of the wrong end of 
 the stick. The old lady knows more about the vote than 
 all the Pankhursts in or out of Holloway Gaol. Believe me, 
 she's some suffragist and can put the kibosh on any of 
 your Antis inside of twenty minutes. She's a practising 
 attorney herself big bug on the Legal Aid." 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 "Gets after the loan sharks gives free advice to the 
 poor." 
 
 "I remember now. You told me she was an attorney 
 one of your women lawyers in Chicago." 
 
 "Bet your life Catherine Waugh McCullough has been 
 at it twenty years. Florence King, leading patent attorney 
 in the United States, another Chicago dame, Eleanor Bates, 
 dandy on probate and divorce, Mary Bartelme, assistant to 
 the Judge in the Juvenile Court they've got the men beaten 
 to a frazzle." 
 
 "Kell," Charles said, laughing, "I believe you are a politi- 
 cian yourself." 
 
 "Like as not," replied the American. "They said, when 
 I was a baby, that I took after Dad." 
 
 Mackenzie came back a trifle thinner and paler. 
 
 "No holiday for me," said the Scot. "Honour Mods 
 is only two terms off now, so I have to keep my nose to 
 the grindstone,"
 
 DRUMS AFAR 87 
 
 "See that you don't put it under the tombstone." 
 
 "Yes, but I've got to get a First, I've got to get a 
 First." 
 
 The second year is usually the happiest for the under- 
 graduate at Oxford. His angles have been rubbed off, he 
 knows what to do and how to do it, he feels that he fits 
 in, and unlike the third or fourth year man is not shadowed 
 by the thought that soon he must go down. He pays 
 paternal calls on Freshers, and breakfasts them with be- 
 coming dignity. 
 
 Charles continued to forgather with Frank Mainwaring. 
 They went down to the boats together, had hopes of get- 
 ting into the First Torpid, and particularly Charles went 
 into severe training. Jeffers warned him that this was a 
 mistake. 
 
 "You will go stale, old man, if you don't let up a little. 
 You shouldn't overwork the human machine." 
 
 Charles, however, went his own way, running and San- 
 dowing till he had not an ounce of spare flesh left. Ambi- 
 tion spurred him on. If only he could get into the Eight, 
 he would go down happy. 
 
 After the calamity to the House in falling to third place 
 in Eights after heading the river for so long, there seemed 
 to be more chance for men who had done well in Torpids. 
 Every one prophesied a shake up, and Eton was no longer 
 the Open Sesame. Nemesis, however, was inexorable. Com- 
 ing down to the boats one day more tired than usual, 
 Charles put in a hard afternoon's tubbing when suddenly, 
 during a large spurt before they put into the Barge, a 
 sharp pain tore up his right leg. 
 
 "What's up, Fitzmorris?" asked Jeffers, who was coach- 
 ing and saw his face go white. 
 
 "Something gone in my leg," said Charles between 
 clenched teeth, shivering with a cold sweat. 
 
 At the Barge he had to be lifted out of the boat, and 
 could not have reached his rooms without support. 
 
 "Looks like a bad strain," said Jeffers. "Told you you
 
 88 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 were overdoing it. However you meant well, so you will 
 be forgiven in the next world if not in this." 
 
 The doctor backed up Jeffers, ordering rest for a week, 
 and no more rowing for at least a year. 
 
 It was a bitter blow, for Charles had set his heart on 
 showing Eton that a Pauline also could row. His style 
 had been improving, he was getting into the right swing, 
 when all of a sudden out went his ambition. 
 
 "What's the good of anything?" he growled to Frank 
 who found him next afternoon disconsolately arm-chaired. 
 
 "You can at least yell for the House," replied the latter 
 cheerfully. "Every little helps. Think of that Australian 
 imp's moustache. It saved the day for us in the Third Tog- 
 ger." 
 
 Frank had been taking sport less seriously, and was al- 
 ready shining at the Union. Charles on finding himself a 
 temporary cripple returned to books and also played with 
 current politics. Both he and Frank had been elected to 
 the Twenty Club, a fruit-eating and debating society the 
 members of which were strictly confined to Christ Church. 
 Although less fluent than Frank, Charles had quite a turn 
 for epigram, and through judicious use of German phrases 
 was able to pose in debates on foreign policy as "one 
 who had been there." 
 
 The Union was certainly a trying school for any one at 
 all thick-skinned. In the middle of a fervid period, mem- 
 bers of the audience who thought they had had enough 
 entertainment for one evening would rise and walk out of 
 the hall. No crime was greater than to be dull. Raise 
 a laugh, and you at least got a hearing, if only for three 
 minutes, with the chance that after a while you would be 
 known enough to get a place upon the paper. In spite 
 of jealous sneers, the Union held its place as the training 
 ground for budding orators, who found here the schooling 
 necessary for later political life. The shining light at 
 the Palmerston or Canning found that he shone with less 
 effulgence before this critical audience. 
 
 Frank had gone through his initiation in the Summer
 
 DRUMS AFAR 89 
 
 Term, and already nursed ambitions. He had joined the 
 Russell and a dozen other clubs with a view to office at the 
 Union. Canvassing for such office was in theory prohibited, 
 but club members were clannish when the time came to 
 vote, and the wise one spread his nets accordingly. 
 
 Towards the end of the term, on the occasion of a motion, 
 "that this House views with concern the growth of the 
 German Navy" the Isis for the first time lifted Charles 
 out of the list of those who "also spoke." He read the 
 paragraph a hundred times, and sent it to his father. The 
 first words made him wince, but it was good to see one's 
 name in print. 
 
 "C. Fitzmorris (Ch.Ch.) in a very fair imitation of the 
 Balliol manner, defined the difference between the British 
 and the German navies as being that one was floated on a 
 love of the sea and the other on lager beer. The one 
 was a navy of Invincibles, the other a navy of Unquench- 
 ables. The one was manned by a nation of sailors, the 
 other by a race of swillers. The German virtue of domes- 
 ticity would certainly shine in any naval battle, while Brit- 
 ish Dreadnoughts swept the seas all the big and little Von 
 der Tanns would run for home. The use of the Kiel Canal 
 would then be revealed it was an admirable place in which 
 to hide." 
 
 Kelly entertained largely at the Grid, but still paid close 
 attention to his lectures. 
 
 "I mean to get my money back," he explained when 
 Charles accused him of sporting his oak too early. "I mean 
 to make sure of my Diploma. Tutor thinks me one com- 
 plete nuisance. He took a house two miles up the Wood- 
 stock Road without a telephone, so when I want to get his 
 goat I take a taxi and get him busy on Free Trade and the 
 cost of tea. I guess when they come to examine me I'll 
 give them the dope all right." 
 
 He still, however, stood faithful to the old Sunday eve- 
 ning talks, and though Mackenzie cried off because of his 
 coming Schools Charles was unfailing. Kelly on such oc-
 
 90 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 casions talked about his home life, particularly of his 
 mother. 
 
 "Put her in a party of a hundred," he said, "and she'll 
 make a million friends. I've talked to her a heap about 
 you, old man, and she wants you to pay us a little visit 
 at Christmas." 
 
 This suited Charles, who shunned another Richmond 
 Christmas. 
 
 He was curious to meet so advanced a type as Mrs. 
 Kelly a woman lawyer probably dogmatic and opinion- 
 ative, masculine in character, and yet with a feminine taste 
 for gossip, if Viola's hint were true. 
 
 Charles's father had inveigled his family that summer 
 on to the links at Sheringham. There, in addition to lower- 
 ing his handicap by two, he saw his wife cast for, success- 
 fully play and land a husband for Clara, cousin to a title and 
 quite rich. The announcement had been made in October 
 and the wedding fixed for the third week in December, 
 Mrs. Fitzmorris believing in striking the fiance while he was 
 hot. This meant that Charles had to put in an appearance 
 at Richmond before proceeding to the Kellys. 
 
 Mrs. Fitzmorris was never so happy, planning the details 
 of the wedding, and would have invited a thousand Kellys 
 if Charles had wanted them at the ceremony. Mr. Fitz- 
 morris's original joy was tempered by the flood of bills. 
 
 "I suppose it's worth it," he groaned to Charles. "But, 
 thank heaven, this can only happen twice in my life. 
 Charles, my boy, do me a favour ?" 
 
 "Certainly, dad, if I can." 
 
 "There's a fellow called Jones I have a grudge against. 
 I wish you would get engaged to his daughter and let your 
 mother help to plan the trousseau."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 AS soon as the wedding was dutifully done, Charles 
 repaired for the rest of the Vacation to the house 
 of his American friend. 
 
 Mrs. Kelly herself came with the maid to wel- 
 come him at the door. 
 
 "Mr. Fitzmorris, I am sure," she said pleasantly. "Come 
 right in. Mike has gone round to the Mainwarings, but 
 is bringing Viola and her brother round to lunch. He 
 wasn't sure which train you would come by. Tell the cab- 
 man to bring your grips upstairs. Let me show you your 
 room," she continued, leading the way. "The bathroom is 
 right alongside." 
 
 She spoke with a soft, almost drawling voice, most unlike 
 that of her son. One might almost have taken her for an 
 Englishwoman, if there had not been a faint nasal intona- 
 tion. She used a broad "a" in the word "bathroom," 
 whereas Kelly was laughed at in Oxford for talking of his 
 "beth," and she gulped her final Vs." 
 
 Taller than her son, her head was poised on a grace- 
 ful figure. The hair was wavy white, the smooth face oval 
 and always lit up with a smile. 
 
 When Charles came downstairs she was rocking in a 
 chair at the open hearth in a recess panelled with Austrian 
 oak, and the same simplicity of decoration which marked 
 Kelly's rooms at Oxford was repeated here. The room 
 was noticeably warm, though the windows were open and 
 the day raw December. 
 
 "We've just put in a radiator system," explained Mrs. 
 Kelly, "and the regulator hasn't found itself yet. How 
 pretty the houses in the Park are every one with its 
 garden." 
 
 She spoke the word "garden" with so soft a "g" that it 
 
 91
 
 92 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 sounded almost like "gyarden" just like the accent of an 
 old-fashioned aunt. 
 
 "I've been cooped up in an apartment," continued Mrs. 
 Kelly, "for the last twenty years, and don't see flowers 
 grow except in the parks. Mike couldn't have picked out 
 a house that suited me better. What do you think of 
 Mike? Isn't he the finest fellow that ever the stars shone 
 on?" 
 
 "We all like him at Christ Church," said Charles. "He 
 has the knack of making friends." 
 
 The mother was evidently pleased. 
 
 "I'm glad to see him well again," she said. "I used 
 to be scared of his sleepless nights. He is all brains, but 
 brains need rest. He has had only one real bad habit, 
 chewing gum, and that he quit when he came to Europe. 
 Won't you smoke? I'm used to cigars with Mike in the 
 house." 
 
 All the time she knitted and rocked. 
 
 "Have you got used to English ways yet ?" asked Charles. 
 
 "Quicker than Mike, I reckon," she answered. "They re- 
 mind me of my old home when I was a girl I was raised 
 in Virginia and only came to Chicago later. There's right 
 much that is the same. I could fancy myself sometimes 
 back in Richmond that is Richmond, Virginia. Your 
 own home is in the English Richmond, is it not?" 
 
 Just then Kelly was heard at the gate, and Mrs. Kelly 
 rose to greet the Mainwarings. 
 
 "Well, what have you all been doing?" she said as she 
 kissed Viola. "Isn't it just fine of you to come round." 
 
 "Fitz, old man," said Mike, "I rang up to find whether 
 you were coming a. m. or p. m., but your line was busy. 
 Glad to see you haven't waited to be introduced to Mother. 
 Isn't she a wonder?" 
 
 "Mike dear," said Mrs. Kelly, "I rely on you to keep Mr. 
 Fitzmorris posted on my virtues. In the meanwhile you 
 all please excuse me. I must attend to the salad and other 
 mysteries of the kitchen. I like to keep my eye on the cook 
 when she tries her hand on Southern dishes."
 
 DRUMS AFAR 93 
 
 "Some eye!" said Kelly with a laugh as she went out. 
 
 Although the meal was less elaborate than some of Kelly's 
 Oxford menus, it was exquisitely cooked and served, and 
 Charles surmised the parentage of this once puzzling trait 
 in his American friend. 
 
 Unless there was cause to look elsewhere, Mrs. Kelly's 
 eyes hung on Mike, and any one could see that she was 
 wrapped up in her son. The conversation veered from the 
 weather to the English home as compared to the American, 
 and from that to the part a woman plays in the household 
 of to-day. 
 
 "Women," said Mrs. Kelly, "are their own worst ene- 
 mies, and drown themselves with their own millstones. They 
 forget that the restaurant can serve at least one meal a 
 day " 
 
 "That's a hint to us, Fitz," said Mike. 
 
 "And take no exercise except at a bargain sale. Their 
 lives are swamped by their families, and they work six- 
 teen hours out of the twenty-four for no better wage than 
 food and bed and clothing. Viola dear, if ever you marry, 
 see that your husband pays you a salary over and above 
 your household allowance, and insist on overtime." 
 
 "An eight hour day?" asked Mike. 
 
 "Sure enough, eight to eight, with four hours free in 
 the afternoon. Of course another way is to have a divi- 
 sion of profits, but I recommend a salary." 
 
 "With a month's notice," added Mike. 
 
 "So you believe in Suffrage?" said Charles. 
 
 "The vote," said the old lady, "is the least of the things 
 that women want, and not, I reckon, the cure-all that Viola 
 thinks. What we need is equal opportunity with men 
 let them beat us in the race if they can, and let us beat 
 them if we can but don't hang unwashed dishes round our 
 necks and clothes to mend and children to bring up." 
 
 "From these few remarks," interrupted Kelly, "you can 
 picture my youth." 
 
 "Mike," said his mother, "you were a perfect child no 
 trouble at all I speak in general. I for instance was one
 
 94 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 of eleven, and your father was one of twelve. You might 
 have been one of twelve yourself, Mike, if your father and 
 I had not agreed to differ. I separated from my husband," 
 she quite calmly explained to the others, "two years after 
 our marriage. That's why I had to earn my own living and 
 studied law." 
 
 "She's nuts on Separation," said Mike. "It was Mother 
 who made the record for Chicago Pullman porters on the 
 trains used to wake up passengers saying 'Chicago, Sir, 
 twenty minutes for divorce.' " 
 
 "My experience grew out of Settlement work," she ex- 
 plained. "Sixty per cent of the cases there are wives who 
 are abused or children who are neglected owing to drunken 
 or careless fathers, so naturally I got pretty wise on pro- 
 bate and divorce. It is freedom more than votes that these 
 poor women want." 
 
 "We ought," said Viola, "to have at least as much influ- 
 ence as Beer. Equal opportunity is all very well, but in 
 England without the vote we can never get anything but 
 broken promises." 
 
 "Well, my dear, let others break the windows. I think 
 you could get your way without this militancy if only you 
 organized a business-like campaign like ours in Illinois. But 
 Europe still has the Middle Age belief in war and martyrs 
 and revolutions. No doubt these end in progress for the 
 race, but oh, the tragedies they bring on the individual! 
 They are the man's way of doing things. It is the women 
 who suffer and weep." 
 
 Charles could see that Viola was fascinated by the ripe 
 experience of Mrs. Kelly. 
 
 "What gets me," said Kelly, "is how to calculate the 
 salary. Does it rise with the quality of the meals or with 
 the capacity of the husband to make money?" 
 
 "Man and wife are partners," replied his mother. "She 
 is expert on bearing and rearing children, and on home 
 and creature comforts. But she has a further duty to her- 
 self. She won her husband's affection first through the 
 charm let us say of her conversation. His work continues
 
 DRUMS AFAR 95 
 
 to be brainwork, and she must keep up with him if they 
 are to remain on a level. The generous husband makes 
 a good investment. Division of profits is perhaps in theory 
 right, but the salary basis keeps the wife busy. An angel, 
 too sure of heaven, is apt to sing only one tune." 
 
 Mrs. Kelly was certainly a born hostess. Though less 
 indifferent to food than he had been in his own home, 
 Charles was still a tyro in the mysteries of taste. Breakfast 
 now, with its feather-weight muffins, its hot biscuits, its 
 corncakes or pones and bacon fried with apples and other 
 palatable mixtures became a meal worth getting up for. If 
 indeed he was lazy after a late night, Mrs. Kelly herself 
 would knock at the door and bring in a tray with a toddy, 
 saying "This will kind of open your eyes before you take 
 your bath." Then her fried chicken with corn fritters and 
 scalloped celery, her creamed oysters and her baked ham, 
 were poems. In salads she professed less skill but she 
 had one perfect salad made of pineapple and a soft red 
 cheese with chopped red peppers sunk in a bed of shredded 
 lettuce. Then her egg-nog and her Christmas cake, her 
 syllabubs, her mince pies and the roast turkey with the 
 chestnut stuffing that they shared with the Mainwarings 
 on Christmas Day were food for the gods. 
 
 All the time she spent in the kitchen, she sang or 
 hummed old darkie songs in a low sweet voice. 
 
 "Just listen to that," Mike would say, stopping a con- 
 versation with held-up finger. "That's Mother again, sing- 
 ing her old head off." 
 
 "How can you ever tear yourself away from here?" said 
 Charles to Mike one day. 
 
 He understood now the strategy of bringing Mrs. Kelly 
 to England. Between the English girl with her restful en- 
 vironment and the dynamic Chicago lawyer was a great 
 gulf fixed. Mike had realized the prejudices Viola must 
 sink before she could accept the intimate relationship of 
 marriage, and had brought his mother, with her domesticity 
 and Southern charm of manner, to bridge London and the 
 Middle West. If such a mother could love and live with
 
 96 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 such a son, surely that son could husband such a wife. 
 
 Most subtle was the spell that Mrs. Kelly's kitchen cast 
 upon Viola, who began by coming over to pull taffy or 
 maple candy and to make marsh-mallows. Then she asked 
 the older lady to teach her how to cook, an invitation easy 
 to exploit. The cook in the Kelly household was a good- 
 natured soul who unlike so many of her kind did not re- 
 sent the intrusion of the mistress into her kitchen. Indeed 
 she herself was anxious to learn the tricks of American 
 cooking, for she meant to emigrate as soon as she could 
 save her passage money, and thus realize the income ru- 
 moured in America. 
 
 To Mike the kitchen was his element. He had the theory 
 which his mother could put into the actual cooking. Noth- 
 ing could keep him out, particularly when Viola was there. 
 Charles could see the fine meshes of the net which gradu- 
 ally closed upon that elusive creature, swimming still in 
 imagined freedom. 
 
 Food however was not their only pastime. Keen on social 
 problems, Mrs. Kelly had already sampled the underside 
 of London, and was as eager as any to attend the socialist 
 and suffrage lectures for which the Mainwarings enthused. 
 
 "Where are you all going?" she would say when they 
 came round and told Mike and Charles to put on their 
 coats, and then, "Look here, Mike, you just go and take 
 me with you," and with them she went. 
 
 It was on this visit to the Kellys that Charles got to 
 know the Fellowship Settlement for Working Men. Here 
 the comfort of the quarters for the Residents was his first 
 surprise. True, but a single combination room a sitting- 
 room with green serge curtains screening the recess that 
 held a bed but the room was large and airy, with cheerful 
 hearth and comfortable arm-chairs, while the common room 
 with its substantial meals had the tone and style of an 
 exclusive club. An excellent library, a good piano in the 
 drawing-room, and the recherche collection of prints upon 
 the walls seemed a good deal to throw in with board and 
 lodging for thirty-five shillings a week. But it was ex-
 
 DRUMS AFAR 97 
 
 plained that by such influences it was hoped to uplift the 
 working classes and the moral effect of Rembrandt on the 
 factory hand was plausibly expounded. 
 
 By this time it was fashionable to be a Fabian, Bernard 
 Shaw was the darling of the Times, and Sidney Webb at 
 the London School of Economics was whispering policies 
 to the Cabinet. 
 
 Kelly laughed at them but Frank persuaded Charles to 
 join the crowd. When he subscribed to the forms of this 
 mild Socialist Society Charles ran little risk of having 
 his door screwed up at Oxford. Even had he become a 
 follower of Keir Hardie, he might have escaped that fate, 
 for he was a well-built fellow known to be a good boxer, 
 and your undergraduate bully hesitates to attack those who 
 can hit back hard. 
 
 When Charles then signed himself a Socialist, this merely 
 meant that he was honest, warm-hearted and unselfish. It 
 meant that he had come to feel he was a citizen, not just 
 Charles Fitzmorris spending five hundred pounds a year 
 to pass the time. He had sensed his responsibilities he 
 was no more a boy who went to school because he was 
 told; he was a man, ready to take his place in the State. 
 
 Naturally his theories had some effect upon his actions 
 when he returned to Oxford. He was more considerate to 
 Silas, whom he had been hitherto inclined to bully, and 
 changed his tailor when he found that individual was not 
 on the white list of those who paid a living wage to their 
 employes. He spoke with less contempt of Toshers, those 
 much misunderstood unfortunates who have mistaken Ox- 
 ford for a seat of learning instead of a social centre, and 
 for lack of funds have joined the University without belong- 
 ing to a College. He took his work more seriously, feeling 
 that he ought if possible to earn his living instead of 
 sponging on his father longer than could be helped. 
 
 That thought caused him indeed heart-burning. He began 
 to wonder whether his father's money was earned by hon- 
 est work, or merely from a parasite profession which had 
 no right to exist at all. When he came to study things,
 
 98 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 he realized that most of the world he lived in was topsy- 
 turvy. Christ Church itself was founded on the spoliation 
 of the monasteries which in turn had tithed the people for 
 a not very worthy priesthood. 
 
 Yet in spite of its tainted origin would it have been 
 so fine or would it have been built at all under a Socialist 
 State? 
 
 Kelly said no. 
 
 "These old stones," he argued, "come from the time when 
 the labourer was not a politician but an artist. He may 
 have taken an eight hour night, but even in the night 
 dreamed of the work he did by day. Look at that fan- 
 tracery above the staircase leading to the Hall, and tell me 
 what labour-boss could have bettered that." 
 
 While keenly interested in social remedies Kelly was a 
 strong individualist. 
 
 "Believe me," he said one day, "I take off my hat to 
 the walking delegate who earns good money in his high- 
 priced profession but not my money if I can help it. 
 Organized labour is just as tyrannical as a Trust, and a 
 damn sight less human. It boosts the skallywag and the 
 malingerer into the same pay as the hundred per cent effi- 
 cient. There's more graft to the square inch in a Brother- 
 hood than there is in Tammany Hall, and that's going 
 some !" 
 
 "Of course," said Charles, "your political conditions are 
 different from ours. With us the very best men go into 
 the House of Commons it is a family tradition." 
 
 "If they are wise," said Kelly, "they will keep it in the 
 family while they can. It pays a landed gentry to control 
 the land laws." 
 
 "But some of your younger leaders are almost Social- 
 ists." 
 
 "No wonder ! If they have any heart they must hate to 
 see one third of the population too poor for meat or but- 
 ter, and Socialism seems one way out. In middle age they 
 grow cynical and work for themselves. But even then, if
 
 DRUMS AFAR 99 
 
 they are to be successful in politics they must be with the 
 dear people once in a while." 
 
 "Perhaps," interrupted Charles, in his best Union man- 
 ner, "in the United States, where your measure of happiness 
 is a million dollars, and where most of your money is 
 paper, there does not appear to be enough to go round your 
 ninety million population, especially as you bring in a mil- 
 lion immigrants each year to sweat in your Eastern fac- 
 tories. But don't think that your overstrung, overfed, over- 
 dressed millionaires, who can't be happy without their mani- 
 cure, their face-massage, their private cars and their sixty 
 horse power limousines, represent the height of human per- 
 fection. The Land of Liberty has become a hothouse of 
 abnormal growth, and until some virile nation such as the 
 Japanese ninety per cent of whom are workers working 
 for the glory of their race lets in the fresh air, and brings 
 you back to the hardy life of your pioneer forefathers, you 
 will continue to be the incarnation of all that is unhealthy 
 in human society." 
 
 At Easter Kelly evidently returned to the siege of Viola, 
 for Frank, who had persuaded Charles to spend that vaca- 
 tion with him in Paris and Versailles, received letters from 
 his mother every second day referring to Kelly's activities. 
 He had joined the Men's League for Women's Suffrage 
 and was agitating hard with Viola for the Conciliation Bill. 
 His motor-car whirled all four of them for she herself felt 
 it her duty to be present, not because she really cared but 
 because she felt that some one ought to counterbalance 
 Mrs. Kelly to committee meetings, receptions, drawing- 
 rooms, debates, deputations, conferences, lectures, address- 
 es, Eustace Miles teas, Suffragist Concerts, Suffragist Ate- 
 liers, Junior Suffragist Hat Sales, Suffragist Matinees, to 
 such an extent that she began to hint that she was worn 
 out with such strenuous chaperoning and wished to good- 
 ness that Viola would capitulate or that England would 
 declare war on the United States and thereby banish these 
 Americans from the once tranquil suburb of Bedford Park. 
 
 Charles, who was studying the campaigns of Turenne and
 
 ioo DRUMS AFAR 
 
 the great Conde, and immersed in the writings of Vauban 
 on the siege and defence of fortresses, decided that all the 
 Marshals of France in the palmiest days of the great Louis 
 would have had something to learn from the perseverance 
 and ingenuity of this Irish American as he beleaguered the 
 heart of Viola. 
 
 Gallantly though she resisted, Viola must at last have 
 raised the white flag, for when the summer term came 
 round Frank confirmed his sister's engagement.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 AS soon as he heard the news, Charles chased after 
 Kelly to congratulate him. The American's rooms 
 were empty but he was found in Tom Quad on 
 his way from the J. C. R. with a box of cigars 
 under his arm. 
 
 "Yes, old man," he said, "it's true. I won out after all. 
 At first I thought some other fellow had the inside track, 
 but it was only the fence she put up to keep out the hoboes. 
 You see I don't exactly look like gilt-edged stock, and 
 she could afford to be choosey. She looked like a million 
 dollars to me the first time I saw her England certainly 
 is one land for peaches, and Viola is the ultra of the bunch. 
 Lucky? Gee, I should say!" 
 
 "When is the fatal day?" 
 
 "Not a day too soon. Her mother said December, but 
 I rooted for July. Got to work off the honeymoon before 
 the Fall and get busy earning the rent. Say, Fitz, old 
 man, I'm counting on you to put me wise to all the rules 
 and regulations." 
 
 "I'll do my best," said Charles. "Is the ceremony to 
 be in church?" 
 
 "The betting points that way. Mother-in-law-to-be put 
 me next to a sky-pilot friend of the family Socialist 
 guy with large feet who preaches hell in Bedford Park 
 quite a lively duck who seems inclined to do the trick." 
 
 "What is he like? Got a black beard?" 
 
 "That's him. A good scout from the looks of him." 
 
 "Yes, he is I know him. I'll be there," said Charles. 
 
 When Eights Week came round, Viola arrived with Mrs. 
 Kelly triumphant chaperon. She never had looked so charm- 
 ing. A softer light had come into her eyes, and though 
 the chin was firm as ever it loomed less aggressive. An 
 
 101
 
 102 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 indefinable air of femininity enveloped her, and there was 
 not a man that met her who did not think Kelly fortunate 
 to win this attractive girl. 
 
 "Everything seems gay this year," she said. "Aren't 
 there more people here? The streets are parasol'd and the 
 High looks like a garden party. Oh yes, of course, last 
 year we followed the King's funeral." 
 
 "And this year we approach the wedding of the Prin- 
 cess," said Charles. 
 
 "Which Princess?" she asked, as if puzzled. 
 
 "Princess Viola," said Charles, "the Princess of Mike 
 Kelly's fairytale, whom he crossed the sea to win and woo, 
 and with whom he hopes to live happy ever after." 
 
 "And you," she said, "imagine you are the Good Fairy?" 
 
 "One of them," he admitted modestly. 
 
 "And pray, who was the Dragon?" 
 
 "There were dozens of them," said Charles. "All your 
 prejudices, your craving for independence " 
 
 "Independence Day is our Day of Days," interrupted 
 Mrs. Kelly. "Do not think you have killed the Dragons. 
 You have only turned them into House Dogs who will bark 
 now instead of bite." 
 
 In order to distract Mrs. Kelly's attention, Charles spent 
 these days in being most gallant towards that lady. He 
 had roses for her every morning, and kept her talking to 
 him so that Mike and Viola could have uninterrupted tete-a- 
 tete. Mrs. Kelly, as her son declared, was "chock full of 
 talk" and "had conversation just wrapped up in her" and 
 was "peeved to death" when she was left alone. Charles 
 got her to tell him about life in the United States, and thus 
 heard something of the complex problems of that heteroge- 
 neous nation. 
 
 With marriage so much in the air, it was natural that 
 Mrs. Kelly should incline to dilate thereon. Charles raised 
 the question. 
 
 "What about mixed marriages I mean between Ameri- 
 cans and English don't you think there is a risk ?" 
 
 "I'd just hate to tie myself down on that," replied Mrs.
 
 DRUMS AFAR 103 
 
 Kelly. "If the man is American and the woman English, 
 there is less chance of friction than the other way round. 
 For English women are more adaptable than American 
 women or English men, and accustom themselves to a new 
 country more readily. An American who brings home an 
 English bride is thought to have done tall, and usually with 
 good reason. She brings up her children with better man- 
 ners than most American mothers. Although at first lone- 
 some for her old home, she is attracted by our readiness 
 to make friends. But in the American home there is the 
 question of maids. The American woman has to do more 
 housework than the Englishwoman of the same class, be- 
 cause maids are scarce with us, and mighty independent. 
 Clothes cost more, and we pay more heed to fashions in 
 dress. Whatever she wears in her kitchen, you'll find out 
 that the poorest American woman dresses as a very stylish 
 lady. The Englishwoman in the States soon realizes this, 
 and if her husband can't afford her a shipload of new 
 clothes, she feels very unhappy. As a rule, however, the 
 American husband feels just the same as she does, so that 
 she gets all she wants if he has to kill himself to raise the 
 money. On the other hand, the American woman over 
 here becomes a climber, aims at making glory and meeting 
 titled folk, and if her English husband doesn't give her a 
 hand he just gets left behind." 
 
 "Glad I'm not engaged to an American girl," said Charles, 
 "I've got enough 'climbers,' as you call them, in my own 
 family already. But don't you misjudge your own people? 
 Are you a climber, for instance? If you have been run- 
 ning after titles since you came to England, I haven't noticed 
 it." 
 
 Mrs. Kelly laughed. 
 
 "Perhaps you are right. One shouldn't generalize. There 
 are Americans and Americans." 
 
 The boatraces naturally took them to the House Barge 
 every afternoon, and it was good this year to see the Christ 
 Church Eight keep its place while Christ Church II actually
 
 104 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 went up from the Second to the First Division. But most 
 of their time was spent in going round the Colleges. 
 
 "It's my last chance of seeing anything historic for some 
 time," explained Viola. "Mike says that in Chicago every- 
 thing over ten years old is out of date." 
 
 "He probably means 'falling to pieces,' " said Charles. 
 
 "Chicago is not all the United States," remarked Mrs. 
 Kelly. "We have a few buildings over a century old, and 
 our State Capitol at Richmond is only twenty years younger 
 than the Library at Christ Church. I allow you will find 
 more customs that date from Queen Elizabeth in Virginia 
 than you will find in London. The mistake made by the 
 English who visit and write about us is that they do not 
 go further South than Washington, whereas Washington 
 to many an American is the Farthest North." 
 
 "How do you like leaving England ?" Charles asked Viola 
 one day as they sauntered along the High. 
 
 "I look upon it as a great adventure," she replied. "We 
 all have just one life to live, and if we don't make the most 
 of it we have ourselves to blame. I could keep on vegetat- 
 ing here in a studio in England, but Mike has made me 
 want to see the world." 
 
 "Will you keep up your art ?" 
 
 "Why not? Mike has promised me a studio in Chicago, 
 and as a wedding present has bought me a library of books 
 on decoration tapestry, stained glass, furniture, metal 
 work, bookbinding and what not. He says I can learn just 
 as much over there as here, and that I should think of Chi- 
 cago as four thousand miles nearer Japan than London. 
 Well, I shall soon find out it is all part of the game. He 
 offered to make his home in England if I would not marry 
 him without, but that would not have been fair to him, 
 as his work is over there." 
 
 "And your heart ?" 
 
 "Is where Mike is, Charles," she said, linking her arm 
 in his. "I know you started this match half in fun, and 
 I did not take Mike seriously myself at first, but yoa did 
 the greatest thing in the world for me when you brought
 
 DRUMS AFAR 105 
 
 us two together. Honestly I don't care just at present 
 whether I remain an artist or not. All I want now is to be 
 with Mike." 
 
 "He's one of the best," said Charles thrilling at her 
 touch. "And so too, I think, is his mother." 
 
 "She is mother to me also," said Viola softly. "I won't 
 feel so lonely with her to help me over there. She has 
 been my best friend ever since we met. I never realized 
 before how little separates Americans and English." 
 
 They went to Godstow again on another moonlight night, 
 with Viola more sentimental than the year before. This 
 time she and Mike floated downstream side by side in a 
 punt instead of cross-questioning each other face to face 
 in a canoe. There was light enough to see that Mike had 
 his arm around her waist, and she looked up in his face 
 from time to time in a way that showed she was no 
 longer concerned about the unknown past. Her thought 
 was only for the present, an idyll of rapturous young love 
 in which two hearts beat as one in the warm air of a 
 summer night. 
 
 "Isn't it queer," said Charles to Frank, "to see otherwise 
 sensible people looking into each other's faces like sick cats ? 
 I almost wish sometimes I hadn't thought of bringing them 
 together." 
 
 "Don't worry, old chap," replied Frank. "You'll look just 
 as foolish yourself some day. After all, it's not so bad 
 as delirium tremens." 
 
 This love-making began to have its effect on Charles, who 
 could not forget what Frau Pastorin had said about his 
 lack of sentiment. He longed for the day when he should 
 be able to claim a Viola of his own. How was it that 
 the other fellows all paraded photographs of girls not 
 their sisters, while he could only muster obviously paid 
 for pictures of actresses he never knew? If only his own 
 sisters had not been so impossible, he might have got to 
 know more girls, but Clara's friends were hopeless. 
 
 Viola's wedding had been fixed for July, as soon after 
 the great Suffrage Procession and the Coronation as dress-
 
 106 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 makers could be persuaded to promise her trousseau. 
 Charles spent the time till then dreaming of the day when 
 he too could face the altar. In the meanwhile, he was priv- 
 ileged to act as best man, on the condition that some day 
 soon he would visit the bride and bridegroom in their 
 American home.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 AFTER the marriage nearly three months still re- 
 mained of the Long Vacation, and Frank Mainwar- 
 ing urged Paris. Charles who suspected that Frank 
 was thinking more of art-galleries than of history, 
 however, said that another dose of German would do him 
 more good. This time he would go to the Rhine, and see 
 for himself whether it was as German as the Germans 
 claimed. By this time he was absorbed in the Special 
 Period selected for his Final Schools, more particularly 
 in the character and times of Louis the Magnificent. Col- 
 bert had established the sovereignty of France upon the 
 New World, but in the Old World also Louis had ambi- 
 tions, aligning his borders with those of the Roman Gaul. 
 Strasburg, that apple of discord between France and Ger- 
 many, would, Charles thought, be a good centre from which 
 to study historical geography. 
 
 "No Germany for me," protested Frank. "This Agadir 
 business is the last straw. Why should we spend our 
 money in a country with so little sense of decency? Give 
 them a taste of the boycott." 
 
 "Nice sentiment from a Socialist who has preached to 
 me the brotherhood of man," said Charles. 
 
 "The Germans are no more than seventh cousins to the 
 human race." 
 
 "The French, on the other hand, are very pretty sisters," 
 said Charles. "If only we had met a suitable Margaretha 
 last summer at Gottingen, you would have sold your patriot- 
 ism to the devil." 
 
 A year ago Charles had thought a trip to Germany real 
 adventure, and had come back inclined to put on airs. 
 "When I was in Germany," he would say in any argu- 
 ment with the less travelled. 
 
 107
 
 io8 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 Now, however, he was more blase, and took this journey 
 casually. He knew enough of German manners now to doff 
 his hat on entering a German shop and to call a waiter "Herr 
 Ober" instead of "Kellner"; also his tips were mild, and 
 he travelled on the trains second or third class instead of 
 first. 
 
 Yet if adventure came his way, he meant to welcome it, 
 and the absence of Frank, however much a pal, would 
 not be felt so much if the adventure were with a petticoat. 
 
 But neither on the Ostend boat nor on the continental 
 express appeared the unescorted Fair who might have 
 tempted a flirtation. The route Charles took to Strasburg 
 enabled him to pause at Aix-la-Chapelle, and from that 
 very moment he swayed between historic memories and 
 surprise at the growth of this industrial Germany. He 
 had looked for a little old-world city town centred round 
 the Octagon of Charlemagne's Imperial Church, whereas 
 the modern Aachen that he found was a busy factory city. 
 Cologne he had dreamed of as a Cathedral, circled by 
 cloistered churches, but the railway station was so large 
 that he got lost in it his chief remembrance of the place 
 was of coal dust and crowded streets. At Bonn he breathed 
 serener air, and on the sunny deck that carried him towards 
 the Drachenfels began to think romance had not yet left 
 the Rhine. Yet the villas of the nouveaux riches overshad- 
 owed the ruined castles, the great gorge from Konigswinter 
 to Coblenz was dull with smoke from tugs towing huge 
 barges, the hill-sides were scarred with quarries. 
 
 "Du lieber Gott!" he wrote on a postcard to Frank, "The 
 Rhine is German." 
 
 From Coblenz up to Bingen the beauty of the river, sunk 
 between precipitous sides, was less disturbed by modern 
 industry, the Lorelei cast her pensive spell, and at Bingen, 
 as he looked back on the great cleft cut by the Rhine 
 in the dark Taunus Mountains, he felt that his voyage had 
 not been made in vain. 
 
 The pension at Strasburg in which he settled was run by 
 two middle-aged sisters named Weber of pleasant man-
 
 DRUMS AFAR 109 
 
 ners and some little education, proud of being German but 
 glad they were not Prussian. 
 
 They had been infected by the movement which filtered 
 through Germany from Vienna, and had transformed old 
 German homes into very arty show-rooms. The chairs and 
 furniture of the dining room were designed in curious 
 green curves, the walls were panelled with rough plaster 
 tinted mauve and subdivided by lines of purple spots. In 
 each panel blazed a violent landscape. A yellow carpet 
 and red lacquer cabinet with purple shelves full of eccentric 
 pottery added their vivid notes. 
 
 Charles's rooms were also in the movement, but for- 
 tunately for his nerves were less eccentric, and with their 
 panelled oaken bedstead and square William Morris furni- 
 ture came as a relief after the postprandial impressionism 
 of the room where they met for meals. The two sisters 
 themselves wore the so-called "reform gowns" Viola would 
 have called them "Djibbas" which no doubt were as com- 
 fortable as they were ungainly. Still, so long as the food 
 was good, they might wear crinolines for all Charles cared. 
 Their table indeed was excellent, and attracted several offi- 
 cers and students to the midday meal. Other more or less 
 permanent boarders included three German bachelor busi- 
 ness men, a young lawyer, a Japanese, and two American 
 ladies, mother and daughter, to whom by some oversight 
 Charles was not introduced on his first appearance at table. 
 
 Over the rim of a glass of Berncastler Doctor, he saw two 
 jet-black eyes flash upon him for a moment, then withdraw 
 and not again turn his way till the end of the meal, when 
 they broadsided an unconscious challenge as their owner 
 floated out followed by her less ethereal mother. German 
 had been the only language spoken or attempted at table, 
 but the intonation and Gibson-girl get-up of the daughter 
 were unmistakable. Her oval face, uplifted eyebrows, piled- 
 up raven hair and half-open arch of a mouth had an irre- 
 sistible appeal. After the company had dispersed, Charles 
 learned that she was a Miss Madeline Raymond from Chi- 
 cago, studying singing at the local Conservatorium.
 
 I io DRUMS AFAR 
 
 He made up his mind that when he was formally intro- 
 duced he would be as nice as nice could be to this attractive 
 person. He would find out her favourite flower and her 
 taste in chocolates, and see that she was well supplied with 
 both, he would tell her the right kinds of book to read 
 and show her how to appreciate the history of the country 
 she had come to. In fact he imagined himself entertaining 
 her with brilliant conversation and acting as guide, philoso- 
 pher and friend to this ingenue from the wealthy but not 
 very well educated continent of North America. 
 
 There were two common links that he could trade upon 
 in making her better acquaintance Chicago, where the 
 Kellys came from, and singing, an art in which he rather 
 fancied his own skill. At the evening meal, however, after 
 the belated introduction had been effected, he was too shy 
 to go beyond the Kellys. These he found Miss Raymond 
 slightly knew, particularly Mrs. Kelly, whose fame was evi- 
 dently well established. 
 
 "What did you think of England?" he asked, as he took 
 a wicker chair all corners beside her in the sitting-room 
 after they had withdrawn from supper. 
 
 "England?" said Miss Raymond. "We didn't come that 
 way. Took a French boat straight from New York to 
 Havre. We can see England any old time, but I was crazy 
 for Paris. Perhaps on the way back we might spare a 
 day or two for Stratford-on-Avon and a dozen cathedrals, 
 but just now Europe and Paris for mine." 
 
 "Could you come all this way and not visit London ?" 
 
 "Why should we ?" she answered opening her eyes. "Noth- 
 ing I ever saw come out of London was worth thirty 
 cents. Not a hat or gown, while the Englishmen we met 
 in Chicago make me tired as if they owned the earth." 
 
 "Madeline, my dear," interrupted Mrs. Raymond, "Mr. 
 Fitzmorris is an Englishman." 
 
 "I should worry," she coolly replied. "That's his funeral, 
 not mine. Even if I did make a break, Mr. Fitzmorris 
 knows I was just kidding. So don't get huffy. But you 
 know," she continued, turning to Charles, "you English peo-
 
 DRUMS AFAR ill 
 
 pie are the limit. Your forget that the world has gone 
 round since the days of Alfred the Great." 
 
 "Costumes have changed," said Charles shyly, looking 
 at the Weber sisters but speaking softly so that they should 
 not overhear. "If you came to England to buy gowns like 
 these you would certainly be disappointed." 
 
 "Mercy's sake !" exclaimed Miss Raymond. "Don't think 
 I came here for that. I came to study music, particularly 
 singing. By the way, has London any music?" 
 
 "Have you ever heard of Covent Garden? no, not Mary 
 Garden," he replied, still suave. "Or the Albert Hall for 
 concerts? When you have had more experience, you will 
 find that you have not 'arrived' till you have appeared at 
 one or the other." 
 
 "You don't say!" she exclaimed, with an assumed sur- 
 prise very like that which Charles remembered on the face 
 of Kelly. "Well, I'll wait till then, and if I don't make the 
 old burg sit up, call me a has-been." 
 
 "I shall certainly look forward to that day," answered 
 Charles, then blushed. 
 
 The American girl blushed also but Mrs. Raymond 
 laughed at her daughter, saying, 
 
 "You got as good as you gave there." 
 
 He had not meant to be rude, and yet he would not apolo- 
 gize. His British pride was hurt, and he began to think that 
 the insular habit of taking fame for granted had its draw- 
 backs. 
 
 Nettled though he had been by Miss Raymond's trans- 
 atlantic superciliousness, Charles could not forget the charm 
 of her face and figure. Next morning he set out in the di- 
 rection of the Conservatorium just about the time he knew 
 her lesson was over, hoping to meet her and dressed to 
 kill. He wore his black and gold figured waistcoat of Chi- 
 nese silk which Kelly called "The Paralyser," while his 
 Christ Church straw, ribboned with the crest of the cardi- 
 nal's tasselled hat, was something new to Strasburg. That 
 inseparable comrade of his travels, the trouser-press, had 
 done its duty, and as Charles studied his reflection in the
 
 ii2 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 shop windows he saw with satisfaction that the cut of his 
 coat was good. 
 
 Miss Raymond and her mother were in the Kleberplatz, 
 watching the change of guard. Ever since 1871 Strasburg 
 had been the least badly dressed of German cities, but 
 these two women were obviously Paris, and there were 
 very few of either sex in the Platz who did not glue their 
 eyes to such confections. Mrs. Raymond bowed pleasantly 
 to Charles as he came up. 
 
 "Aren't they just cute?" she said, pointing with her 
 parasol at the stiff-legged warriors. "My, it's worth the 
 money to come over and see Europe." 
 
 "Why, mother," protested Miss Raymond, "these soldiers 
 have nothing on the National Guard. They remind me of 
 the Twelve Apostles on the Cathedral clock here, just like 
 wound-up machines." 
 
 "So you don't think much of Germany either," said 
 Charles. 
 
 "It has its points," admitted the American. "For in- 
 stance, across the square is the best candy store ever. I'm 
 deadnuts on their Kaiserspeise." 
 
 "Let's sample it," said Charles, grabbing the occasion. 
 "I've a sweet tooth myself." 
 
 "That's talking sense," said Miss Raymond, with a daz- 
 zling smile. "Mother, you are invited too." 
 
 "Isn't it too near lunch time," said Mrs. Raymond. 
 
 "Let's pass up lunch to-day," replied the daughter, "the 
 way Herr Referendar eats roast pork makes me sick." 
 
 So they forgathered at the Conditorei, and Charles was 
 introduced to Kaiserspeise, a sweet tasting dish worthy of 
 its Imperial name. 
 
 With this went the most delicious coffee, served with 
 whipped cream by a girl who spoke the curious blend of 
 French and German which since 1870 had become the un- 
 happy heritage of Alsace. 
 
 "Is the Conservatorium here so good?" asked Charles. 
 
 "Not one-two-three," replied Miss Raymond. "It was 
 wished on me by my old teacher in Chicago who had been
 
 DRUMS AFAR 113 
 
 here with Paderewski. We're going to quit as soon as I 
 have used up my course of lessons just a week from now. 
 Then the old boy can kiss himself good night." 
 
 "Madeline, my dear," remonstrated the mother, "how 
 often have I asked you to forget your boarding school 
 slang!" 
 
 "Forget it!" replied the incorrigible, "Mr. Fitzmorris is 
 a College boy himself, and can guess what I mean. I sup- 
 pose you never use slang in England, Mr. Fitzmorris ?" 
 
 "Not on your sweet life," replied Charles, with a nasal 
 intonation reminiscent of Kelly. 
 
 At which the two ladies exclaimed, 
 
 "What do you know about that!" 
 
 Then with a laugh Miss Raymond continued, 
 
 "I guess you've put one over on us. You must have 
 visited the States." 
 
 "No such luck," replied Charles. "But my friend Kelly 
 taught me a few of your expressions." 
 
 "He did, did he?" she said more sympathetically than 
 he yet had noticed. "I like a good lively talker, don't you ?" 
 
 "It helps some," said Charles solemnly. 
 
 At which both ladies laughed again. 
 
 It was not long before Charles found that Mrs. Raymond 
 was just as young in heart as her daughter, and had made 
 her chaperoning an excuse for a good time. 
 
 "Milan and Rome are where we are heading for," she 
 explained. "I've longed for Italy all my life. We stopped 
 off here because Mr. Raymond told us not to give this place 
 the go-by. My daughter's music teacher was his tillicum, 
 and he was brought up on Strasburg." 
 
 "And I've had my fill of it," interposed Miss Raymond. 
 "These professors here are the limit. They think the heav- 
 enly choir should have been trained by Germans to sing 
 Wagner." 
 
 "If not by Germans," said Charles, "whom would you 
 get to train it?" 
 
 "Search me," she answered, laughing. 
 
 "In the meanwhile," said Charles, "before you leave this
 
 Ii 4 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 place lamenting, you might find time to show me the 
 sights." 
 
 "Well, I like your nerve!" replied Miss Raymond. 
 
 "Your reward will be in a heaven where they sing Puc- 
 cini," continued Charles, "and perhaps also in this pastry 
 shop." 
 
 The week passed quickly enough. Out of doors there 
 was always something to see. The city itself had never lost 
 its mediaeval character, but even the modern streets and this 
 up-to-date Garden City had their peculiar charms. Old 
 houses brooded on the waters of the Schiffleutstaden, half- 
 timbered houses with oriels and steep roofs pierced by dor- 
 mer windows enriched the narrow streets some were so 
 narrow that even to ride a bicycle was "verboten." The 
 Minster with its growth from austere Romanesque to an 
 exuberant Gothic cast its spell upon them as upon a thou- 
 sand others. The figured fagade of warm red sandstone, 
 intricate with traceries and crowned by an exquisite rose- 
 window faced towards the France which had given it birth. 
 Its portals opened naturally into an interior with delicate 
 and dreamy windows. After this serene beauty, the astro- 
 nomical clock with its trickery of angels and gods and 
 twelve apostles seemed but a toy. Instead of standing with 
 the gaping rustics, they preferred to climb up to the plat- 
 form of the spire and drink in the panorama of the Rhine 
 Valley, with the Schwarzwald and the Vosges on either side, 
 while on a clear day they could even see the Jura. Under- 
 neath on the tall chimneys, the storks had built their nests, as 
 in the days of fairy-tales. 
 
 Finding that he was a history student, interested particu- 
 larly in the era during which Strasburg and Alsace-Lor- 
 raine came under the sway of France, the Germans at the 
 Weber pension turned all their batteries upon him in the 
 desire to prove that these two centuries of French dominion 
 were but an interlude, and that the Alsatian remained 
 through it all at heart true German. 
 
 "German or Prussian?" asked Charles, whose reading of 
 history was different. "And was it ever so very German?
 
 DRUMS AFAR 115 
 
 I had always thought it was Austrian. Is the architecture 
 of the Minster French or German Gothic? Surely it be- 
 longs to the same order as the Cathedrals of St. Denis 
 and Notre Dame." 
 
 He angered them by producing a facsimile of the terms 
 granted to Strasburg in 1681 by Louis XIV, and comparing 
 that monarch's policy of "ne pas toucher aux choses d' Al- 
 sace" with the ruthless Prussian regime. The subject grew 
 so sore that Fraulein Anna Weber hinted that Charles had 
 better avoid it. He easily, however, proved his case to the 
 Raymonds, and with the aid of old engravings visualized for 
 them this Frontier Province, decimated by centuries of 
 warfare, colonized again from Burgundy and Eastern 
 France, suffering like the rest of France from Royalty, 
 and thus bearing a Rouget de 1'Isle with his song of the 
 Marseillaise, blossoming in a distinctive vigorous art, not 
 Parisian but definitely Gallic now crushed by Prussian dis- 
 cipline. 
 
 In order to see the country round, Charles hired a motor- 
 car, a costly vehicle, since the geese that fattened in the 
 villages round Strasburg for the pate de foie gras market 
 had a suicidal tendency, and there were very few trips 
 without their casualties. Hitherto he had thought a motor- 
 car extravagant, but the Raymonds took it as a matter of 
 course Madeline was a singularly forceful maiden, know- 
 ing what she wanted and always getting it. Viola, at first 
 had impressed Charles as an aggressive type, but she was 
 tame compared to the American, whose honeyed requests 
 had behind them the threat of a command. The mother 
 was but a child in the daughter's hands. Yet the graceful 
 form and beautiful face of this young Amazon obscured her 
 dominant manner. 
 
 Willing though he was to lose his heart, he found her slow 
 to appreciate the ready sacrifice. What puzzled him most 
 was her lack of interest in any music other than her own. 
 Of an evening he would fondle the piano, turning over 
 the leaves of her music, and suggesting by his comments
 
 n6 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 that he also could sing. But she would not take the hint, 
 content with her own contralto. 
 
 It was not till the last evening of their stay that Fraulein 
 Anna took pity on Charles and asked him to perform. Noth- 
 ing loath, he gave them "Sally in our Alley" with all the 
 sentiment he knew. The rest of the company applauded, 
 but Miss Raymond indifferently turned the leaves of an 
 album. Charles determined to have it out with her. 
 
 "I suppose you think the old English ballads out of 
 date," he said standing beside her. 
 
 "No," she answered, "that's not it. The song you sang 
 is beautiful, but, pardon me for saying it, Mr. Fitzmorris, 
 your voice is untrained, and this was more than you can 
 manage. You think you are a tenor, whereas your high 
 notes are falsetto, and you would be a baritone if you 
 only knew how to produce your voice. Even my Stras- 
 burg professor would tell you that. I don't think amateurs 
 should be encouraged to sing in public." 
 
 Charles had been so used to hearing his voice praised 
 that this came with all the greater shock. 
 
 "Do you really mean it?" he said, deeply mortified. 
 
 "It was coming to you," she replied, "since you asked 
 for criticism. I'm telling you the straight of it. From 
 your talking voice I knew you had no training. Your Ox- 
 ford drawl is amusing but not musical. Half the time I 
 feel inclined to say, 'Use your lungs and speak more like a 
 man.' " 
 
 "Damn her professional conceit," he thought, and "Damn 
 her manners." And so for the next two days after she had 
 gone he damned her up and down. But when in calmer 
 moments he paid a visit to the Conservatorium, had his 
 voice tried, and was told the same contemptuous story, he 
 realized it was wisest to make up for lost time and sub- 
 scribed for a course of voice-production. 
 
 His pique soon disappeared and he thought of Miss 
 Raymond with tender regard. 
 
 Blank verse may do for middle-aged philosophers but 
 rhyme is the normal sequence of an emotional collision be-
 
 DRUMS AFAR 117 
 
 tween a youth aged twenty-one and a maiden aged twenty. 
 His thoughts dance in rhythm and the music of words that 
 sing together sets the tune to his adolescent rapture. Charles 
 thrilled now with a fine frenzy of which Miss Raymond 
 was the charming but elusive source. As a rhymster he 
 was unquestionably fortunate, for the epithet of "Gibson 
 Girl" which visualized the memory of the American stood 
 in a row with "curl" and "pearl." 
 
 Quite a few of his mornings were abstracted from the 
 study of Ranke and other such historians of the seventeenth 
 century to this present rage for verse, and with the conceit 
 which flourishes in a literary parent, Charles began to send 
 his offspring to the editors of various London publications. 
 Owing to his forgetfulness to send the office boy's due per- 
 quisite, the "necessary stamps for return," most of these 
 were lost for ever, but a few he recovered with polite ex- 
 pressions of regret on his return to Oxford. One indeed 
 found favour with the editor of Pen and Pencil, an illustrat- 
 ed weekly which as a result went up considerably in his 
 estimation.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 CHARLES had much to live through on this Long 
 Vacation. Other change from his books he found 
 in exploration of the surrounding country, on a 
 bicycle now, since there was no longer excuse 
 for a car. 
 
 All the Valley of the Rhine from Strasburg to Basle 
 was a fabric woven with two thousand years of history. 
 Along the left bank the Romans had built their road 
 down from the great Burgundian Gate the very road by 
 which Turenne was afterwards to swoop on his famous 
 winter march across the Vosges. Here was an older and a 
 richer civilization than one found on the dark narrow val- 
 leys of the Schwarzwald on the opposing bank. 
 
 Both sides of the Rhine seemed to have been made for 
 wheels. Easy going state-owned trains climbed up to alti- 
 tudes from which one coasted down through miles and 
 miles of the dark scented pines, passing here and there a 
 saw-mill or farm-house, with its warm monkcowl roof. 
 On the Vosges side of the Rhine were scattered fine old 
 churches and market places and town halls. Here too was 
 the smoke of modern Germany Mulhausen, which Charles 
 had pictured only as a field of battle, proving to be a much 
 sophisticated city, noted for its workman's quarter, built 
 with model cottages from which the working men had 
 gradually been ousted by the petty tradesmen. 
 
 This was not mere sightseeing or interest in old churches 
 for Charles. He was following the varying fortunes of 
 France in Alsace during the great wars of the seventeenth 
 century. If he crossed the Rhine by the little railway from 
 Freiburg to Colmar, it was to spend a day at Breisach, where 
 he could see not merely the vista of the Jura, Vosges and 
 Schwarzwald from the Kaiserstuhl, but also make himself 
 
 118
 
 DRUMS AFAR 119 
 
 familiar with a famous military crossing, to localize one 
 of the victories of Turenne, and to study Vauban's fortifi- 
 cations. It was from Colmar that he had gone south to 
 Miilhausen, and so to Thann, where he found the loveliest 
 church he had ever seen almost toylike Gothic, with open- 
 work tower and exquisite portal. So beautiful it was that 
 he spent the night at the inn Zum Bahnhof, to re-study it 
 in the better light of morning. 
 
 During these wanderings, Charles thought incessantly of 
 Miss Raymond, sending to her Rome address picture post- 
 cards of the places he visited and of the costumes and 
 headdresses worn by the peasants of the Vosges and Black 
 Forest. "They may be useful to you some day," he wrote, 
 "for a masquerade, and may remind you of a week which 
 for me passed all too soon." 
 
 She postcarded him in return from various Italian cities, 
 and so on that evening in Thann he ventured on a letter 
 which he forgot to post telling her of this Gothic gem, 
 which in spite of six centuries of warfare had remained 
 perfect, unspoilt a simile of the love which could cherish 
 an ideal in the midst of strife, ambition and the lust for 
 earthly dominion. 
 
 From Thann he took the train to Kriit, meaning to wheel 
 his bicycle to the French frontier at the Col de Bramont, 
 and then coast down the valley to Miilhausen. His train 
 was shunted in order to let another, and yet another train 
 pass by, both full of soldiers. Kriit itself was like a military 
 camp, and Charles almost forgot his first intention when he 
 saw the troop trains pour out human armies in full march- 
 ing order. 
 
 "It must be autumn manoeuvres," he thought, although he 
 had not noticed that these were to be held in this part of 
 the country. 
 
 Then along the road came another horde of motor-cars, 
 some with officers, and others of a commercial type evi- 
 dently laden with supplies. These were followed by ar- 
 moured cars and these again by heavy artillery. Overhead 
 drummed an aeroplane.
 
 120 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 As he leaned on his bicycle by the roadside, Charles felt 
 a tap on the shoulder and turned to see a lieutenant with 
 two privates. 
 
 "Consider yourself under arrest," said the lieutenant in 
 excellent English. 
 
 "For what?" said Charles, taken aback. 
 
 "Hand over your wheel and knapsack to these men, and 
 come with me," was the answer. 
 
 Exceedingly uncomfortable, Charles obeyed and was con- 
 ducted by the officer to an inn near the station. The doors 
 of this were guarded by sentries, and the constant passage 
 of staff officers showed that some one high in command 
 was in possession. 
 
 Here Charles was ushered to a bedroom where the lieu- 
 tenant searched his pockets, returning everything except 
 his pocketbook and the unposted letter to Miss Raymond. 
 Charles saw the uselessness of protest, and as his cigarettes 
 had been restored to him lit up till the lieutenant had com- 
 pleted his examination. 
 
 "Your name place of residence in Germany business ?" 
 were the questions asked. 
 
 Then leaving a soldier in charge, the lieutenant picked 
 up the papers he had selected, and for a time disappeared. 
 
 Four five six cigarettes were consumed before he re- 
 turned. Charles was then ushered to a larger room in which 
 a number of officers heavily epauletted were seated round a 
 table. In front of them were maps which Charles recog- 
 nized as taken from his knapsack. As his eyes scanned 
 the faces of those in front of him, he recognized with a start 
 one who was familiar and who seemed just as surprised 
 to see him there. It was Baron v. Gleyn, the Rhodes Schol- 
 ar, Kaiser Bill's Best Friend. 
 
 "This is luck!" thought Charles. "He at least can back 
 me up when I say I am no spy." 
 
 The officer at the head of the table began to in- 
 terrogate. 
 
 "Your name Charles Fitzmorris English you claim to 
 be at Oxford studying history you are known to have
 
 DRUMS AFAR 121 
 
 spent the last month making a careful and methodical study 
 of places of military importance you have a collection of 
 very interesting and rare maps, mostly French some old 
 and some new you are present here close to the frontier 
 at a time when there are certain concentrations of troops 
 Have you any explanations of this unusual and highly sus- 
 picious behaviour?" 
 
 The officer spoke in a good if guttural English, with a 
 suggestion of sarcasm which gave Charles an uncomfortable 
 feeling. The best thing he could do was to be perfectly 
 frank. 
 
 "These are military maps," he said, "though out of date. 
 I have been making a study of the topography of the coun- 
 try. This, however, is in connection with the period of 
 history assigned to me for my examinations at Oxford, 
 where I am an undergraduate. My special period includes 
 the campaigns of Turenne, many of which were fought in 
 Alsace." 
 
 "For an Englishman," interrupted the officer, "you are 
 singularly thorough. Are you willing to swear you are not 
 an officer in the English army not even a Territorial?" 
 
 The smile that appeared on every face showed that the 
 German respect for Territorials was limited. 
 
 "If you do not believe me," replied Charles, "ask my 
 friend over there an undergraduate till recently at my own 
 College Baron v. Gleyn." 
 
 All eyes turned on the former Rhodes Scholar. 
 
 "It is true, Herr Major," said v. Gleyn in German. "I 
 did not recognize the name and would not have thought it 
 the same individual. Mr. Fitzmorris occupied the same stair- 
 case as I did at Christ Church. So far as I can remember, 
 he did not belong to the Officers Training Corps he was 
 a rowing man it is even possible that I myself recom- 
 mended him to come to study in Germany in his vacations, 
 but of course I would not have expected him to be so indis- 
 creet as he has evidently been. Yet it is just the kind of 
 thing that Englishmen would do they don't know what war 
 means."
 
 122 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 This evidently appealed to these Germans, who laughed 
 merrily, much to Charles's relief. 
 
 "Were there any other papers?" asked the major of the 
 lieutenant who had arrested Charles. 
 
 "Just this one," said the lieutenant, producing the letter 
 intended for Miss Raymond. 
 
 "Anything suspicious ?" 
 
 "Yes," said the lieutenant solemnly, so that they all were 
 at attention, "I have grave reason to suspect, from the lan- 
 guage in which his letter is couched, that this Englishman, 
 without realizing it himself, is in love." 
 
 The rafters shook with the laughter occasioned by this 
 unexpected sally, and it was some time before the major 
 could make himself heard. 
 
 "Enough, gentlemen," he said, "we can take the letter as 
 read. Mr. Fitzmorris, the order of the Court is that you 
 return to Strasburg by the first train. We commend your 
 industry in studying the Thirty Years' War, but remind 
 you that there have been other and more recent conflicts, 
 and that these frontier roads .are unhealthy just now for 
 any but German soldiers. Your maps are confiscated, but 
 the rest of your papers you may retain. Lieutenant, conduct 
 Mr. Fitzmorris to the station." 
 
 "Thank you, gentlemen," said Charles. "Thank you, 
 Baron." 
 
 "Good-bye, old chap," said the latter, waving his hand, 
 "Give my love to Peckwater." 
 
 As the train slipped down the valley and Charles saw 
 the great grey army marching steadily up the road to Kriit, 
 his head whirled with the excitement of what he had just 
 passed through. 
 
 Was this Morocco affair going to end in war ? There had 
 not been a word in the papers about mobilizing of course, 
 the first steps would be secret. 
 
 He now realized that at Strasburg he had been living on 
 the edge of a volcano. The Germans who either boarded 
 or took their midday meal at the pension were obviously less 
 polite to him, an Englishman, than to other foreigners.
 
 DRUMS AFAR 123 
 
 Even if that was merely imagination, there were other symp- 
 toms of abnormal circumstance. 
 
 The people talked a patois mostly German, the soldiers 
 were Prussian, but the hearts of all but the officials were 
 surely French. Nowhere was there a more callous police 
 in Europe. Charles actually saw one policeman draw his 
 sword on a nursemaid who laughed at him when he ordered 
 her perambulator off the pavement. The outraged passers- 
 by stepped in, but the mere action spoke of the oppressor. 
 Fraulein Anna, sauntering out one evening to post a letter, 
 was pounced upon at the pillar-box and dragged to the 
 police court on the accusation that she must have had an 
 assignation. Her absence caused alarm, and as inquiries 
 naturally led to the police court she was traced and found in 
 tears her protests having been ignored. A civilian who 
 failed to yield the pavement to an officer was run through 
 to teach him better manners in another world, if not in 
 this. 
 
 So unsympathetic had Strasburg become, that Charles 
 decided to rejoin Frank Main waring in Paris, where he 
 could follow his studies in more congenial atmosphere. 
 
 But first he must visit Treves, the oldest city claimed 
 by Germany, with its third century remains. This meant a 
 slight detour, but he could take in Luxemburg as well and 
 better his geography. 
 
 Treves he found full to the brim with soldiers yet the 
 frontier here was surely on the buffer state of the Grand 
 Duchy, not of rival France. Did the Prussians then in- 
 tend to ignore the treaties under the stress of war, and 
 overrun this neutral, unarmed country so as to find an easy 
 road to Paris? 
 
 A travelling acquaintance had told him on no account to 
 miss the midday dinner at a named hotel it was the best 
 in Germany. So after a visit to the Porta Nigra and the 
 Rotes Haus, he followed the advice. It certainly was what 
 Kelly would have called "Some dinner." The large round 
 guests sat at a long straight table, their eyes wolfish in 
 anticipation of evermore to come, their mouths busy with
 
 I2 4 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 Gargantuan platefuls. Never till now had Charles fath- 
 omed the depths of the German appetite. He himself gave 
 up atthe third course, but his neighbours had seemingly just 
 begun, and the munch, munch, munch drove him into the 
 open air. A glance at the Cathedral and Protestant Basilika, 
 a hurried visit to the museum, and he caught his train. 
 But for a week to come the nightmare of that solemn 
 orgy swamped every other memory of his German trip, 
 and the munch, munch of the insatiable gluttons haunted 
 him like a barrel-organ tune.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THEN after a month in Paris and Versailles began 
 his final and most serious year at Oxford. Kelly's 
 absence had left a noticeable blank. To some ex- 
 tent this was filled by a growing friendship with 
 Hargrove. Not that Charles had any religious tendency, 
 but that he took more interest in church architecture since 
 his visit to Strasburg, and found in the Westminster Scholar 
 a congenial companion in exploration of this Oxford county. 
 Together they bicycled to see the fair sanctuary of the 
 Abbey Church at Dorchester, the cloisters at Ewelme, the 
 village cross and Benedictine Church at Eynsham, the re- 
 mains of the great Monastery at Abingdon, the Manor of 
 Stanton Harcourt, and the old mural paintings at South- 
 leigh Church. Hargrove taught Charles the meaning and 
 mysterious charm of aumbries, chamfers, chantries, cleres- 
 tories, transoms and parcloses, and in the choirs and doors 
 and windows and chancels of these churches visualized the 
 history of Norman and Tudor England, with its Kings and 
 Crusaders, Bishops and Barons, Churchmen and Crafts- 
 men, in a way that books had failed to do. He began to 
 realize as never before how far into the past stretched 
 the roots of the present, and felt himself nearer the Knights 
 Templars who in white mantle and red cross had kept the 
 Pilgrim's Road from Sandford to the Holy Sepulchre. 
 
 Two years at Oxford had transformed this saintly Har- 
 grove from acolyte to priest, although he still supposed 
 himself an undergraduate. His rooms reflected the develop- 
 ment. All save two of the austere brass-rubbings were now 
 replaced by reproductions from illuminated manuscripts, 
 framed twelve together into harmonious decorations. 
 Towards the middle of the term, a letter from Chicago 
 
 125
 
 126 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 told him that he had at least one friend outside Oxford. 
 It came from Mrs. Kelly. 
 
 "Mv DEAR CHARLES, 
 
 "Mike always talks of you as Titz,' but to me that 
 sounds too little dignified. I always think of you as so 
 typically English quiet, courteous, conservative and yet 
 quick to understand, and so sympathetic. Whereas an Amer- 
 ican boy of your age would force his own country on the 
 foreigner, you seemed more anxious to learn our viewpoint, 
 subtle and most pleasant form of flattery. It makes me 
 tired to hear my countrymen belittle the English. We have 
 so much to learn from you. 
 
 "But that is not what I filled my pen to say. I thought 
 you might care to hear about your old friend Mike and 
 your still young friend Viola. They talk so much of you 
 that I am sure you also must remember them. But both 
 are so-so letter-writers Mike being too deep in work, and 
 Viola snowed under with invitations and new friends. Out 
 West I still think of Chicago as out West, though the real 
 West now is nearer the Coast the ice is quickly broken. 
 Every door is wide open to Viola. She never looked so 
 charming as she does to-day, and never, I think, more 
 happy. Her fresh complexion blooms so sweet even in our 
 drier climate. She is an English rose none else so fair. 
 
 "Mike has just won an important case, and had bou- 
 quets from the judge on the skill with which he handled 
 it. He says that the two years of Oxford did him a world 
 of good widened his outlook, gave him new impulses, 
 taught him to think more logically so far from being a 
 mere rest-cure, Oxford has helped him in his profession. 
 But of course, best of all, it has given him Viola. 
 
 "Some of my friends say I should be jealous of the love 
 he gives to her. But I know better. The greatest happi- 
 ness I have is seeing Mike contented. 
 
 "The next thing I wished to say to you was when are 
 you coming to see us? I am so eager to show you round. 
 I am so proud of our country that I want you to know it
 
 DRUMS AFAR 127 
 
 better, you, my friend, above all. It may not be so beau- 
 tiful as England, but it is so spacious, so vigorous, so full 
 of hope. I know it would do you good to breathe our air, 
 and it would do me good to see you breathe it. 
 
 "For I am growing old, and mine must now be vicarious 
 pleasures. 
 
 "Won't you come across? 
 
 "Your old friend, 
 
 "MARION KELLY." 
 
 Charles's poem in Pen and Pencil took the fancy of Bul- 
 ler-Wilson, Editor of the Isis, who asked him for some 
 contributions. At first Charles thought of sending him the 
 poems which the London editors rejected, but reflection 
 told him that these in print would bring yet more embar- 
 rassment, owing to their so obviously amorous intention. 
 He wrote instead some flippant essays on the Oxford Man's 
 most cherished traditions, more in tone with that radiant 
 mirror of undergraduate life. These were accepted, and 
 for the first time since he came to Christ Church Charles 
 began to see a light ahead. "Publicist" was what he had 
 told his father he desired to be, but that career was cer- 
 tainly a trifle vague, not to say impertinent in one so young. 
 "Journalist" on the other hand was a profession any one 
 could understand, and if his articles were so readily accepted 
 by an editor so critical as Buller-Wilson surely he would 
 have a chance in Fleet Street. He did not have to earn 
 his livelihood at once. He could wait till he had the right 
 connections, possibly buy himself into a publishing house or 
 magazine, preferably a magazine where literary style was 
 the ideal something better than the journalese which satis- 
 fied the board-school public. 
 
 In his work for Schools, the growing fascination of mili- 
 tary history carried Charles on once again from Conde and 
 Turenne and Vauban to his old schoolboy hero Marlbor- 
 ough, and Christmas therefore found him in Brabant and 
 Flanders and the adjoining France, retracing on the actual 
 ground the progress of the unconquerable strategist who
 
 128 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 broke the power of the great Louis. From Ramillies 
 Charles tramped, regardless of the bitter weather, to Lou- 
 vain, and so to rich, flamboyant Brussels and to Antwerp, 
 thence by way of Termonde and the still picturesque city of 
 Oudenarde to Lille. 
 
 At Easter, on his last vacation, he was back again at 
 Lille, walking thence to Tournai and so through Hainault to 
 industrial Mons and the bloody battlefield of Malplaquet, 
 after which he crossed into France again to Douai and 
 Bethune. The easy, placid Belgians, interested only in their 
 industry and business and bock, felt evidently too secure 
 in their state of bufferdom to trouble about military students. 
 They occupied the battleground of Europe and were proud 
 of it it brought a profitable crop of tourists trade was 
 good and the factories busy the only cloud on the horizon 
 was the Socialist movement with its perpetual threat of 
 strikes. In a country so peaceful and unmilitary, the in- 
 convenience of being mistaken for a spy, which had cast a 
 shadow over his autumn pilgrimage through Alsace was 
 not repeated. 
 
 Frank Main waring was now a star at the Union and 
 laughed at Charles for taking Schools so much to heart. 
 
 "Degrees don't count when you go down," he declared. 
 "I mean to try my hand in Fleet Street one editor says he 
 will take my caricatures, and if I get elected President of 
 the Union another says he will put me on to leader-writing. 
 Politics is a better-paid profession than it was a few years 
 ago, and if you don't see me an M.P. before you are thirty 
 it's because you'll be dead." 
 
 "Not if I can help it," laughed Charles. "I mean to row 
 in the same boat, at least so far as Fleet Street is concerned, 
 unless Dad lets me play with millions on the Stock Ex- 
 change. At present however our tastes do not coincide. 
 He prefers the Pink 'Un to the English Review. He can 
 even laugh at the jokes in Punch." 
 
 "My dear fellow, when you are forty you will do the 
 same. In the meanwhile forgive its vapid literature for its
 
 DRUMS AFAR 129 
 
 admirable art. If Punch would only take my caricatures, 
 I should die happy." 
 
 What Charles admired about Frank was that he did not 
 cast aside his rabid Socialism, though by doing so he might 
 have won more votes when he stood for office at the Union. 
 Moreover, he came out whole-heartedly for Woman's Suff- 
 rage, flayed Mr. Asquith as the Grand Old Time Server, 
 rivalled Lloyd George in the violence of his attacks on 
 venerable institutions. His ironic spirit scintillated in his 
 speeches. He was the terror alike of good Conservatives 
 and Whigs. His sharp, satiric features enraged the oppos- 
 ing forces the more they looked at him. "Damn this 
 Pauline demagogue," they said, and fumed for lack of 
 answer to his biting eloquence. 
 
 The only point on which Charles disagreed with Frank 
 was on his attitude to the Colonies. Charles had never 
 taken kindly to the Canadian and Australian Rhodes Schol- 
 ars, any more perhaps than they had taken to him. They 
 arrogantly claimed the merits of their own countries over 
 England, and yet resented criticism of themselves. Kelly 
 and the Americans were different. They had behind them 
 a country which in their own language had "made good." 
 Whereas Australia and Canada were but half-baked, in 
 spite of all their bragging. South Africa to him was the 
 spoilt child whipped, and then put on a pedestal. Let 
 these colonies shift for themselves, he said. They had been 
 spoon-fed long enough, with a more or less free Navy and 
 unlimited loans. 
 
 Frank, however, was an out and out Imperialist oppo- 
 nents said it was to get the votes of the Rhodes Scholars. 
 
 "Let us have a real Imperial Parliament," he urged, "not 
 a parochial affair like our present House of Commons, ruled 
 by a Cabinet of Bumbles. A world wide Empire needs the 
 counsel of constructive men from overseas. Canadians, 
 Australians and Afrikanders should be our partners. They 
 have no idle rich, they are used to doing and thinking on 
 a big scale, and are not simply the mouthpiece of the per- 
 manent official."
 
 I 3 o DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "I don't see how you reconcile your Socialism and your 
 Imperialism," said Charles. "How can you make a prac- 
 tical Socialistic State out of a scattered Empire such as 
 ours, where each separate colony " 
 
 "Dominion." 
 
 "Well then, where each separate Dominion has its own 
 problems the tariff for instance I fail to see. Unless you 
 have a more or less isolated, self-contained community, So- 
 cialism is impracticable." 
 
 "Well then," said Frank, "throw it overboard. Socialism 
 is only a means to an end, namely the betterment of Labour. 
 We are too small-minded in this little England. We coddle 
 ourselves behind our supposed Invincible Armada. But the 
 world does not revolve round London. Don't you feel when 
 you talk to some of these men from overseas that our 
 intellectual arteries are hardening, that we need fresh blood, 
 new nerves, more elasticity in our body politic. Our 
 Foreign Office is still Hanoverian still pettifogging over 
 the Balance of Power in Europe. What we must consider 
 now is the Balance of Power throughout the World." 
 
 "Some day, no doubt," sneered Charles, "we shall listen 
 to a Canadian Prime Minister at Westminster talking 
 through his nose." 
 
 "No worse than a Scotch Prime Minister talking through 
 his hat," retorted Frank. 
 
 "With an Australian Home Secretary being mistaken for 
 a Cockney. I wish you joy of your Imperialism. For my 
 part, I would cut loose every outside part of the Empire 
 that could not pay its way. It is not worth the glory it is 
 supposed to give us. These Canadians and Australians 
 talk as if they owned us, not we owned them. Don't forget 
 the fate of Lord Milner who went to South Africa a Pro- 
 Consul and came back a damned fool." 
 
 "Does he know it?" 
 
 "Everybody else does." 
 
 Politics at Oxford is however but a game, and though 
 Charles and Frank had furious arguments they remained 
 good friends. Frank achieved his ambition at the Union,
 
 DRUMS AFAR 131 
 
 and after passing through the Junior offices occupied the 
 Presidential chair in the following summer term. As such 
 he had the last word in the selection of the speakers, and 
 for the Eights Week debate Charles was allotted the place 
 of honour as proposer of a motion. "That in the opinion 
 of this House, it is better to be a Socialist than a Snob." 
 
 In deference to what the undergraduate supposed was 
 the intellect of the fair sex, heavy subjects were taboo in 
 Eights Week, and the speakers were selected to amuse. 
 Charles had developed a somewhat mordant humour, but 
 the subject was one after his own heart, and Frank felt 
 sure that his friend would put some spirit into the debate.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THAT speech of yours was all right though rather 
 youthful," said Frank as they walked back to the 
 House after the debate was over. "You didn't 
 truckle to the Tories, but as you aren't running 
 for office, that doesn't matter. What you've got to do now 
 is to live up to your Socialism and help me next Monday 
 with a crowd of working men and women from the Fellow- 
 ship Settlement you know that 'arty' place we visited in 
 London. Whit Monday is the recognized day for these 
 visitations." 
 
 "Right you are! How many are coming? What do we 
 have to do with them ?" 
 
 "Twenty or so male and female created He them 
 just talk nicely to them and give them lunch. You take 
 half and I take half probably they will want to see Ruskin 
 Hall." 
 
 When next morning they started to collect promises of 
 boats for Monday, they found the disadvantage of having 
 Whit Monday in Eights Week. The House Mission crowd 
 was also due, and nearly everybody had "People." How- 
 ever with the aid of Salter's they scraped up the necessary 
 craft. 
 
 On Monday at the station it was a problem to disinte- 
 grate the Fellows Settlement party from the seething mass 
 upon the platform. Then Frank was hailed by the Resident 
 who had brought them along an old Oxford man who 
 was glad to be back again, if only for a day. 
 
 "Any more room in the Ark?" he sang out cheerfully. 
 "This looks like Noah's busy day." 
 
 The Settlement had come in its Sunday Best. So far 
 as the women were concerned, their style was on the heels 
 
 132
 
 DRUMS AFAR 133 
 
 of fashion though the material might be cheap. They had 
 more the finery of the shopkeeping than of the labouring 
 class. As they chattered to each other, Charles noticed 
 Lancashire voices and West Country voices and Scotch 
 and Irish, but only one or two Cockneys. For London is 
 the great Octopus stretching out tentacles East, West, South 
 and North, hypnotizing its victims with glittering eye, drag- 
 ging the fresh young country lads and lasses into its 
 insatiable maw. 
 
 So far from wishing to see Ruskin Hall, they asked 
 for the oldest, particularly Christ Church, and of course 
 they wished to go upon the river. 
 
 "Aeroplane for me," said a side-whiskered individual in 
 white spats, Williamson by name, who evidently fancied 
 himself as a funny man, "I am accustomed to high society." 
 
 He was anxious to be conspicuous, and his rasping voice 
 got on Charles's nerves. 
 
 However, in excellent humour they made their way to 
 Carfax, and so by the Cornmarket to the Broad. 
 
 By this time Charles had grown so used to his surround- 
 ings that it was strange to find how Oxford fascinated those 
 who came with fresh eyes. One old man in the party, 
 Chalmers by name, would have spent all day over Trinity 
 or Balliol if he had been allowed. 
 
 "Never mind your lunch for me," he urged, "I have 
 had enough to eat for sixty years, but I have just one day 
 for Oxford." 
 
 It was only by persuading him that there were more 
 beautiful buildings yet to see that he would come along 
 with the rest. 
 
 Another of the party was a handsome girl with auburn 
 hair and a Gainsborough hat, beside which Viola's largest 
 would have seemed a bonnet. "Miss Adair" was what the 
 men called her, and "Millicent" the women. The old man 
 Chalmers kept a fatherly eye upon her, and as Charles took 
 a fancy to the old man, with his never ceasing questions, 
 he found himself her frequent neighbour. 
 
 When they came to the Sheldonian, the grotesques outside
 
 I 3 4 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 that otherwise fine building gave Williamson his oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 "Behold our long-lost brothers," he exclaimed, striking a 
 mock-heroic attitude, which sent the party into fits of 
 laughter. "This here is a faithful portrait of John William- 
 son, now serving six years for bigamy. What woman could 
 resist him? He left seven claimants to his name and title. 
 Next Peter Williamson, whose effort to increase the circu- 
 lation upset the Bank of England. He is the best known 
 forger in our family. Beside him, Joshua Williamson, 
 whom you may have already met at the Home of Madame 
 Tusssaud. He stands there in the group of poisoners 
 Chamber of Horrors. Joseph Williamson, mother's pet, is 
 our next the sainted no not scented Joseph, whom Toto, 
 King of the Cannibal Islands served up as missionary pie 
 on the birthday of his favourite concubine. Then comes 
 David, confined during His Majesty's Pleasure and so on 
 to be continued in our next." 
 
 The Exeter man who had opposed Charles in the Union 
 debate happened to pass that very moment, and heard their 
 noisy laughter with a supercilious smile. Charles was an- 
 noyed, perhaps unreasonably. This fellow Williamson 
 jarred him also, and he wished these people were less 
 blatant. Still, it was their way of life, so with a shrug, he 
 led the way upstairs to the Cupola which Christopher Wren 
 more than three hundred years ago so admirably shaped. 
 
 Here they found a vista of spires and towers and pin- 
 nacles and parapeted roofs and domes and College gardens 
 that drew from each of them each time they looked through 
 each of the eight windows a volley of "ahs !" and "ohs !" 
 
 Miss Adair, to whom Charles more and more gyrated, 
 seemed to have most restraint, and though she clearly was 
 interested showed a reserve akin to breeding. Charles 
 noticed that she wore a pale green cotton dress fitting close 
 to the lines of a tall and well-proportioned figure, and if the 
 hat had not been so obtrusive would have been well dressed. 
 
 "Milliner," he surmised, but on questioning the old man, 
 Chalmers, learned that she was shop assistant at a Furniture
 
 DRUMS AFAR 135 
 
 Emporium in the Tottenham Court Road. A wider knowl- 
 edge of the London West End Shop would have told him 
 the secret of her equilibrium. There it was a misdemeanour 
 to unbend, lest the customer should think it was not a 
 privilege to buy. The lady who displays the wares lives up 
 to the "Under Royal Patronage," and those on whom she 
 attends are made to feel that the price they pay puts them 
 among the Upper Classes. 
 
 An evident desire to see "the swells" took the party then 
 to New College where Charles humoured them by pointing 
 out an imaginary Earl of Brownacres. At Magdalen he 
 invented a marquis and a viscount, after which their thirst 
 for titles was slaked sufficiently to let them wonder at the 
 cloisters, the doorway of the Chapel and the open-air pulpit 
 near the entrance. 
 
 No true House Man would admit any Oxford building 
 older than the cloister school of St. Frideswide, the nucleus 
 of Christ Church. They therefore were given merely a 
 peep at Merton and the Pelican of Corpus, before they 
 entered Canterbury Gate, where it was enough to point to 
 the rooms of Gladstone to prove that here indeed was the 
 nursery of greatness. For many years must pass before 
 the magic of that name fades from the memory of 
 democracy the Grand Old Man still looms up Champion 
 of its Distresses. 
 
 In Peckwater they divided, Charles taking his ten, and 
 Frank the rest, Charles being careful to shepherd the in- 
 creasingly attractive Miss Adair. 
 
 It was a jovial party that sat down to lunch, the only 
 gloomy face being that of Silas, grieved at having to wait 
 on common folk. Williamson, who increased the tension 
 by imitating Silas' voice and gestures, added insult to 
 injury by saying, 
 
 "Take it away, my lord, take it away." 
 
 "Take what away?" said Silas blankly. 
 
 "Your face, my lord, your face it's a misfit. Take it 
 back to the shop to get made over again. Friends, Romans, 
 Countrymen, cannot we eat our salmon mayonnaise without
 
 136 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 the assistance of this proud aristocrat ?" Then as the scout 
 made his offended exit, "Now then, Heaven help those that 
 take two helpings." 
 
 Old man Chalmers could not be induced to keep his seat 
 at table. 
 
 "Let me have a place at the window/' he said. "I want 
 to look at the old buildings. They're company enough to 
 one of my age. A sandwich will do me fine." 
 
 After he had seen them started on what was to them a 
 banquet, Charles came over to the window and sat beside 
 him. 
 
 "You don't know what a treat this is to me, Mr. Fitz- 
 morris. I read my books at night when the day's work is 
 done, and think about them next day at my work, but there's 
 little enough inspiration in the basement where my work- 
 shop is all I can see when I look out of the window is the 
 railing over the area, and the legs and feet of passers-by. 
 But here you are face to face with fine architecture and look 
 down on people's heads. What a grand opportunity, and 
 what a different point of view." 
 
 "I wish we all realized it," said Charles, "but at my age 
 few of us are philosophers. Most of us are just out for 
 a good time. We are here because we are twenty, and 
 because our fathers can afford it." 
 
 Then after watching the rapt expression on the old 
 man's face, he added : 
 
 "I'm afraid, Mr. Chalmers, this day in Oxford will make 
 you feel discontented." 
 
 "No, sir, I'm too old to be discontented. If I were twenty 
 as you are, and poor as you are well off, perhaps I might 
 be discontented. But the old man of sixty, when he sees 
 a beautiful bride, is not jealous of the bridegroom he 
 knows she is out of reach. He thinks the bridegroom is a 
 lucky man, but if he has any sense, he knows he could 
 never replace him. I can never be a student here at Oxford 
 my life is nearly over. This place is beautiful to me as 
 to you, but all I can have of it is a passing vision." 
 
 "What is your work ?" asked Charles.
 
 DRUMS AFAR 137 
 
 "Shoemaking," said the old man, "more particularly shoes 
 for crippled children. It's a trade that has survived ma- 
 chinery they all have to be fitted and measured separate 
 the one sole perhaps thicker than the other, and the ankles 
 often as not need supports. If only we all could get the 
 cripples from our slums into the pure air and sunshine of 
 the country, some of them would be happier, poor things. 
 But the race is to the swift, and the victory to the strong. 
 
 " 'God's Poor' is what the Scotch call them. 
 
 "Wonderful, all the same how cheerful the little ones be," 
 he continued. "It's not only wealth and health that make 
 for happiness. There's more laughter in the slums than in 
 the streets of the rich, and more fun in a barrel-organ than 
 in a symphony concert. I often think that at our Settlement 
 they aim too high. It's over our heads, though a trip like 
 this is a little bit of all right." 
 
 In the meanwhile Williamson kept the others entertained 
 in his own way. 
 
 "Whatever is Whit Monday?" he asked. "I've forgotten 
 all about these Saint's days since I was put out of the 
 Church. It must be something swell, or Mr. Fitzmorris 
 wouldn't have brought out his best silver." 
 
 Or again, 
 
 "Mr. Chalmers, will you kindly lend your stick to the 
 Gorgonzola." 
 
 Through it all Miss Adair sat serene. When lunch was 
 over, and they left his rooms, Charles manoeuvred himself 
 beside her, and pointed out the things of interest. There 
 was something to tell about each corner of each quadrangle 
 he had the story pat now so that he did not notice how 
 little she said in answer. By the time they had gone through 
 the Cathedral and admired the Hall and crossed the Clois- 
 ters and passed through Meadow Buildings into the Broad 
 Walk he believed they had had a wonderful conversation. 
 
 At Salter's there was diffidence as to who should get 
 into which boat. Mr. Chalmers helped Miss Adair into the 
 punt which happened to be Charles's.
 
 138 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "And I'm going too," he said. "It's the last chance 
 I'll have of going on the river with a pretty girl." 
 
 Fortunately for the safety of the expedition, all the rest 
 were row-boats, least dangerous of rivercraft. Charles 
 brought up the rear of the procession up the Cher, answer- 
 ing the endless questions of the old man, and watching the 
 fair cheek and graceful arm of Miss Adair as she reclined 
 in the soft cushions and cooled her fingers in the water. 
 
 "All I can say is," remarked Mr. Chalmers as they turned 
 at the Rollers for the journey back, "I hope you young 
 gentlemen understand how fortunate you are. When I was 
 your age, it was work, work, work from six in the morning 
 to ten at night all to make ends meet and it's been just 
 about the same ever since, except holidays and Sundays. 
 Yes, but I don't grudge it to those that have it. There's lots 
 of happiness in work as well as play." 
 
 "Now, isn't it odd?" replied Charles, with a sudden in- 
 spiration. "You think with envy of the life we live at 
 Oxford, whereas I am looking forward to the time when 
 I can live in London, at your Fellows Settlement, if you 
 will let me be a Resident. We are only playing here you 
 are the workers." 
 
 "Do you really mean it?" said Mr. Chalmers with evident 
 pleasure. "Are we going to have you as a Resident ? You'll 
 be kindly welcome so far as the Associates are concerned. 
 When do you think of coming to us ?" 
 
 "I have to pass my Final Schools first. But I've seen 
 enough to make me want a change from this butterfly ex- 
 istence." 
 
 "This is the butterfly," said Mr. Chalmers, smiling and 
 nudging the lady at his side. 
 
 Charming as Miss Adair was to look at, she remained 
 singularly quiet. She would answer questions, but as a rule 
 only with a "Yes, Mr. Fitzmorris," or a "No, Mr. Fitz- 
 morris." There was a reason, namely, that she was un- 
 certain of her aitches, and knew it, so that she did not 
 speak till she had carefully planned the aspirates in the 
 right places. Charles however attributed her silence to
 
 DRUMS AFAR 139 
 
 shyness and modesty, qualities which struck a sentimental 
 chord in his heart. 
 
 He thought of that other river trip to Godstow two 
 summers before, and Kelly's wish for something which 
 should introduce some romance into his relations with Viola. 
 
 It would be easy enough to collide with any of the canoes 
 coming up the stream, but the Cher was notoriously shallow 
 in these reaches, and in any case a punt is hard to upset. 
 
 It was not till they had floated through Magdalen Bridge 
 into the wider and deeper stream that hope gleamed ahead 
 of him. This was a diminutive Fresher revolving in a punt 
 which was evidently too much for him, so that his frantic 
 efforts and uncertain course gave promise of the hoped-for 
 catastrophe. 
 
 If only the Fresher would fall overboard, and if only 
 he could not swim Charles saw that he could make a showy 
 rescue, without much danger to any one concerned. The 
 water could not be very deep. 
 
 Drawing closer to the bank, he got ready on emergency 
 to push his own punt ashore, so as not to upset his pas- 
 sengers if he had to dive into the water in aid of the 
 distressed. 
 
 Bracing himself together, however, no doubt lest he 
 should excite the ridicule of so fair a lady, the Fresher 
 steered safely past them, and Charles was resigning himself 
 to a humdrum return when suddenly Fortune veered. 
 
 Whether it was that old Mr. Chalmers was not used to 
 the balance of the punt, or whether Charles himself was 
 careless as he pushed out again into midstream, anyhow 
 there was a sudden lurch, and before he had quite realized 
 what had happened he was himself in the water. Coming 
 to the surface and treading water as he cleared his eyes, he 
 found himself seized suddenly by the hair and uncere- 
 moniously ducked again. This was the Fresher who think- 
 ing that Charles might not be able to swim and seeing that 
 the other two in the punt were too excited to do anything, 
 had plunged into the stream, grabbed his victim by the 
 hair and commenced to swim vigorously on his back to the
 
 I 4 o DRUMS AFAR 
 
 shore. Fortunately for Charles he had just had his hair 
 cut. Struggling free with his head still smarting from the 
 hands of his unsolicited deliverer, he swam to where the 
 two punts had drifted under a tree. 
 
 "By Jove !" spluttered the other, swimming after him all 
 out of breath. ''I was trying to save you." 
 
 "I wish you weren't in such a damned hurry," hissed 
 Charles, furious at the turn things had taken. 
 
 "Do you often do this at Oxford?" came the rasping 
 voice which Charles had already learned to dislike. It was 
 Williamson who in a row-boat with three other members of 
 the party had swung in sight just as the upset occurred. 
 "Please do it again, so that I can take a snapshot." 
 
 The shout of laughter which followed recalled Charles 
 to the humour of the situation, so swallowing his wrath he 
 laughed himself, and climbing on to the bank tried to wring 
 the water out of his clothes. Just then Frank came along 
 in another row-boat and saved the situation. 
 
 "I'll take the punt back," he said. "These other fellows 
 with me can row all right. You get back into dry clothes 
 and have tea ready for us about five o'clock. We are just 
 in time to see the Second Division races, and will come 
 along after the finish." 
 
 "Right you are," said Charles, glad to escape the grin- 
 ning Williamson. "What about you ?" to the Fresher. 
 
 "Thanks, I can manage," said the latter. "I came out 
 expecting to get upset." 
 
 So saying he got into his punt again, and with a pleased 
 look on his face continued to revolve up stream. 
 
 All the way back to Christ Church Charles cursed the ill 
 luck which had so perverted his intention. Instead of 
 shining as a hero in Miss Adair's eyes, he had been made to 
 look ridiculous. Then that low comedian Williamson had 
 turned the laugh still more against him. He could have 
 kicked himself as he reviewed the wretched sequence. 
 
 However, by the time he had rubbed himself down and 
 changed and put the kettle on and got everything ready for 
 the return of the party, his usual good nature was again on
 
 DRUMS AFAR 141 
 
 top and he was quick as any to laugh over what had hap- 
 pened. Much to his relief, Williamson and some of the 
 others preferred to stay on the river till the First Division 
 races, but Miss Adair and Mr. Chalmers and half a dozen 
 more had professed themselves tired and returned to make 
 a pleasant and congenial tea-party. 
 
 Then they sang songs, and Charles found one or two 
 duets such as Philip Sidney's "My True Love Hath My 
 Heart" in which his own voice blended admirably with that 
 of Miss Adair. 
 
 It was her voice and smile that stayed with him after 
 they had all gone. He sat at his window that night looking 
 at the moon. 
 
 "That's a fine girl," he thought. "What a pity she has 
 to serve in a shop. Dignity of labour be damned." 
 
 He spent the night writing verses to an imaginary 
 Beatrice who was astonishingly like Miss Adair. 
 
 Her qualities as in the case also of Miss Raymond, the 
 American girl he had met at Strasburg, were nicely suited 
 to the poetic vehicle. "Demure" rhymed with "pure" and 
 "lure," "hair so rare with its auburn glow" made a line 
 that matched the "voice of music sweet and low." Any 
 one "so tall and slender" naturally needed some one "to 
 defend her," and the "lips of silent eloquence" rhymed 
 after a more or less satisfactory fashion with her "virgin 
 innocence." 
 
 He was glad that his suggestion of some day taking up 
 residence in the Fellows Settlement had been received so 
 heartily, at least by old Chalmers. That could not be till 
 he went down from Oxford but she was young yet, and it 
 would in any case be a long while before he could marry. 
 If in the meanwhile she met any one she liked better, that 
 would be just his luck, but even then she might marry a 
 brute from whom he might one day save her. 
 
 Between Eights Week and the end of the Summer Term, 
 the hearts of Charles and Frank were oppressed by a deep 
 gloom. Within a few weeks now each of them must enter 
 the Examination Schools clothed in his right mind and a
 
 142 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 white tie. In their punt they read no more the latest 
 Chesterton or Belloc, but sighed over heavy books loaded 
 with foot-notes, tearing their eyes away from the blue skies 
 and leafy willows and gentle ripple of the Cher. After 
 Hall they forswore the theatre and except on Thursday 
 nights, still sacred to the Union, slipped away from coffee 
 in the J.C.R. to the seclusion of their own rooms, where at 
 the stroke of ten they sported their once hospitable oaks. 
 
 So far as their immediate future was concerned, it mat- 
 tered little what sort of Class they got, Class having no 
 weight in Fleet Street, but Frank did not wish to appear 
 unworthy of the Scholarship which had helped him to three 
 happy years at Oxford and which he realized had put him 
 under obligations to the Dons. Charles for his part still 
 nursed the hope of earning his own living, and the better 
 his degree the better chance of a position if his venture into 
 journalism should prove a failure. 
 
 It was however impossible to make up for the time lost 
 in past distractions. Frank came out with a Second which 
 in spite of his finer scholarship was no better than the 
 Second secured by Charles. 
 
 "I tried my hardest to get you a First," said Charles's 
 tutor, when they met again at Convocation, "but the other 
 Examiners were against it. They said you were too ir- 
 relevant, and did not show sufficient scholarship. However, 
 there is one consolation, namely that you won't be tempted 
 to become a Don." 
 
 "Is that so dreadful a fate?" asked Charles. 
 
 "To one of your temperament, yes. If only you knew 
 the drudgery of trying to knock sense into the Passmen who 
 waste half our time ! And Oxford is so out of the world. 
 It has novelty for you you have just three or four years 
 of it but we have the whole of our lives and most of that 
 in North Oxford worse than Brixton or Clapham." 
 
 On going down, Charles and Frank planned to see as 
 much of each other in London as possible. 
 
 Charles had decided to take up Residence in the Fellows 
 Settlement. He told himself it was because he wanted to
 
 DRUMS AFAR 143 
 
 be one of the people but note that he did not definitely 
 ask to have his name proposed until he had paid a visit to 
 the place and found Miss Adair still an Associate. 
 
 Frank said it was cheaper for him to stay at home he 
 would have to practise strict economy now, but meant to 
 come to the Settlement at least once a week. He thought 
 he might run a drawing class for the Associates or perhaps 
 help in the Dramatic Society. 
 
 "Anyhow, we are sure to run across each other in Fleet 
 Street," he said as they parted at Paddington. "We have 
 drunk a Bruderschaft in ink which no man can obliterate."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 WHEN Charles announced to his people that he 
 had become a Resident at a Working Man's 
 Settlement, Mrs. Fitzmorris merely shrugged 
 her shoulders. 
 
 "You can't expect us to call on you," she said. "Slum- 
 ming is quite out of fashion. It was all very well before 
 Lloyd George started his Limehouse taxes, but I don't see 
 how people in our position now can afford to be charitable." 
 
 "My dear mother," replied Charles, "this will cost you 
 nothing and will do me a world of good. If I am to write 
 on public questions, I must make some friends outside the 
 House of Lords." 
 
 "Personally," said his father, "I think it an excellent 
 idea. I hope you will make friends with labour leaders 
 and let me know when any strike is brewing. The market 
 is usually caught napping. My only advice is, don't take it 
 all too seriously. Twenty-two is the sentimental age at 
 which one takes to Socialism just as children catch the 
 measles. But you'll grow out of it in time particularly 
 when you have to earn your bread and butter. You'll be 
 glad then you have an education which handicaps your 
 competitors. And don't be too socialistic to remember that, 
 if you need some capital to buy yourself into any business, 
 your father is ready with the accursed thing." 
 
 Charles did not forget. Indeed only a few weeks later 
 he asked his father to put up 5000 to secure an interest for 
 him in Pen and Pencil, the paper which had printed his 
 first published poem and which was on the lookout for a 
 new director with literary tastes and a supply of cash. 
 
 The opportunity was brought to his attention by Frank 
 Mainwaring, who discovered that the editor who had prom- 
 
 144
 
 DRUMS AFAR 145 
 
 ised publication of his caricatures was less enthusiastic 
 when it came to paying. 
 
 "Find me some source of revenue," said that worthy, 
 "and you can have all you want. But art is at a discount 
 in these days of photography, and we ourselves survive by 
 small economies." 
 
 Frank remembered that Charles had a father on the Stock 
 Exchange, and therefore probably in touch with guinea- 
 pigs. 
 
 "Guinea-pigs be damned!" said Charles. "I shall get 
 Dad to put up the money himself and kill two birds with 
 one stone, appointing myself director, and you as regular 
 contributor. By doing so we shall perform a service to 
 current art and literature. The old rag is like your body 
 politic it needs new life. I shall see that the editor cuts 
 out his journalese and prints only good English, if I have 
 to write it myself, as indeed I hope to do." 
 
 "Don't count your chickens," said Frank, "till you have 
 met Jones." 
 
 "Who is Jones?" 
 
 "The editor." 
 
 "So prejudiced as that? Then our duty is to train him, 
 to convert him, or to die in the attempt." 
 
 "You can save time now by writing our obituaries." 
 
 Charles found that Jones was not so adamantine as 
 imagined, though he insisted on his rights. 
 
 "We'll make the paper as literary and book-reviewish as 
 you like," he said. "Publishers can usually be milked, if 
 approached with care, at three seasons of the year, particu- 
 larly at the Christmas giftbook season, though the adver- 
 tising rates they pay are hardly worth the cost of paper. 
 But don't ask me to fool about with Main waring' s Imperial- 
 ism. We have no circulation in the Colonies Canada 
 particularly is impossible, swamped with American publi- 
 cations so unless these emigrants pay to see their names 
 in print, they can stay out of our pages. Of course if there 
 is a rebellion, we shall have to deal with them, but unless 
 they are on the scale of the Russo-Japanese affair wars cost
 
 i 4 6 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 more than they are worth. I'd much rather have a society 
 divorce case or political scandal, or a good Royal funeral." 
 Then suspiciously to Charles, "I hope to God you aren't 
 a short-story writer. I have enough in this drawer to 
 last three years, accepted and none paid for. Poems are 
 another matter, if they are not too long. They come in 
 useful as fill-ups. Two and a half inches is a handy size." 
 
 Fitzmorris Senior was also as good as his word. 
 
 "Let me name the Financial Correspondent, and you can 
 have it," he said. "I may as well have a run for my money." 
 
 The existing directors were willing, and Charles, who 
 salved his conscience by recalling that the leading principle 
 of Fabian Socialism was Compromise, lost his last scruple 
 when he found that the correspondent in question had 
 hitherto been Scissors and Paste. 
 
 With reading and writing and practical incursions into 
 the management of an illustrated paper, Charles found the 
 time pass pleasantly enough. Three evenings of the week 
 were devoted to the Fellows Settlement, where he now 
 helped to conduct a debating society, a literary class, and 
 the library. He would have preferred to assist more in the 
 work done by day in connection with the Play Centre for chil- 
 dren, but that was in the hands of competent women, who 
 were much better fitted to conduct this admirable scheme 
 of keeping children after school hours from the streets, 
 with fairy-tale classes, basketwork, needlework, folk-song 
 and morris-dancing. 
 
 Once a week there was a social evening at which his 
 voice was in much request, and in his first enthusiasm 
 Charles really thought the kindly glow which warmed him 
 to his fellows was reciprocated just as heartily. 
 
 The Associates were mostly shopkeepers and their 
 women-folk, clerks and a few skilled tradesmen, but the 
 navvy and the bricklayer went elsewhere. 
 
 So far as grown-ups were concerned, the Settlement was 
 but an inexpensive club. Their characters were formed, 
 and they took the educational side as an inconvenience 
 which had to be put up with to secure the other benefits.
 
 DRUMS AFAR 147 
 
 Old Mr. Chalmers, the philosophic shoemaker to whom 
 Charles had taken such a fancy on that notable Whit Mon- 
 day excursion, was the most outstanding character among 
 the Associates. 
 
 When the debates threatened to become too acrimonious, 
 his common-sense opinion calmed the fevered disputants. 
 If intrigue against authority undermined good feeling, he 
 found the happy path of reconciliation. The cool green 
 corridors were a fitting background to his grey beard and 
 hair. On the social evenings his pleasant smile seemed 
 to pervade the hall, crowded though it might be with more 
 hilarious youth. At the lectures and concerts, however 
 much above his head they might be, he was a faithful 
 front-row disciple, urging by his example the mere pleasure- 
 seekers to give their due to the Earnest Workers who gave 
 their time and talent to the Elevation of the Masses. 
 
 Directorship of Pen and Pencil brought with it the draw- 
 backs as well as the pleasures of power. It was surprising 
 to find how many Residents and Associates at the Settle- 
 ment had literary hopes, how many more or less remote 
 acquaintances asked Charles to get passes for the theatre, 
 how many of his sister's friends to have their portraits 
 published. In vain he protested he was not the editor. 
 
 "How is it that you get your own articles published?" 
 said the importunate and, "How do you get to so many 
 theatres yourself?" 
 
 The fact was that Jones was a homebird and sent Charles 
 to the plays he did not wish to see himself, thinking in this 
 way to propitiate the source of his income and at the same 
 time to find leisure for the bosom of his family. 
 
 One day Jones said to Charles, 
 
 "You look so presentable, I think I'll put you on to inter- 
 views." 
 
 "But I can't write shorthand." 
 
 "Thank God for that. I could, and I was kept back for 
 ten years. I was sent to report speeches when I still had 
 youth and the power to be original. All you need to do is 
 to remember phrases of those you interview and fill up with
 
 i 4 8 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 flattery. They never say what they really think. That is 
 the secret of their success. All they want is to see them- 
 selves in print. They will swallow anything you put into 
 their mouths if it is nicely seasoned." 
 
 "Mr. Jones," said Charles one day, "how did you get 
 your worldly wisdom?" 
 
 "On two hundred pounds a year. I know too well what 
 I lack myself. I want to help you with my experience 
 because I like you, and because some day you may need 
 it. Perhaps you don't know it, Fitzmorris, but you are 
 going to drop your money in this paper, and I'd like to 
 think that when we go smash, you still know enough to 
 earn your own living." 
 
 "Five thousand pounds seems lots of money." 
 
 "Not in Fleet Street. This is a losing game, and if there 
 weren't people fools enough to want to own a newspaper 
 at any cost, it could not go on."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 ONCE a week, the more active of the Associates and 
 Residents chose a place of interest in or near 
 London for a "Ramble" most of which was usu- 
 ally done by train or tram. 
 
 Although he had met her once or twice at the Settlement, 
 it was not till the occasion of a ramble to Leith Hill that 
 Charles had a chance of talking to Miss Adair for more 
 than a minute at a time. She was but little changed in 
 appearance, except that her picture hat was now less over- 
 whelming. Her dress, it is true, was hardly suited for the 
 country the high-heeled shoes suffering rude courtesy 
 from muddy roads. She left the romps and races to those 
 less fashionably corseted, and her hobble skirts were never 
 meant to clamber over stiles. But at the resting places, 
 when they called for music, she sang the latest from the 
 Gaiety and sang it well. It turned out that she was a star 
 soprano in the Choral Class and Charles resolved that he 
 would also swell the volume of the baritones he had left his 
 tenor at Strasburg would study her profile and think of 
 St. Cecilia. 
 
 On the way home they walked together, and by this time 
 she was less laconic than on the Whit Monday trip to 
 Oxford. Although her accent had its Cockney flavour, 
 she had by this time a fair control of the elusive aitches. 
 But it was still Charles who had to do the talking, she being 
 mostly satisfied to listen. 
 
 He naturally talked of Woman's Suffrage, thinking it 
 would please her when he said he was a Pro. But she was 
 lukewarm, blaming those who broke shop-windows. 
 
 "We are all suspected now, and if men could fill our 
 places we should have to go. To my mind, a woman's place 
 is the home." 
 
 149
 
 150 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 This Charles had heard before, but never in a voice more 
 musical. He told her then about Viola Mainwaring, not 
 giving names, and gently ridiculed the modern woman's 
 way of dealing with moonlight proposals. Miss Adair 
 vowed herself amazed at any girl who could not take a 
 man on trust, even if he were American. 
 
 When a youth talks of such subjects to an attractive 
 maiden, it is time to fly the danger signal. Insidiously the 
 spell which for a year had lain asleep revived. During the 
 ensuing month Charles amply satisfied Jones's expressed 
 capacity for verse. Such poems as dealt too closely with 
 the glint of auburn hair were reserved for his own private 
 desk, but others of less intimate nature found their way to 
 the typewriter and so to Jones, who measured them with his 
 rule and indexed them for use as required. These dealt 
 with the charms of country life. The happiest was called 
 "The Exquisite Rambler" and read as follows : 
 
 "Where trees hang soft upon the lane, 
 
 And fields are green and sweet, 
 The delicate airs come down like rain 
 And kiss my dusty feet. 
 
 I slip beyond a broken stile, 
 
 And wake the drowsy ground; 
 I wander many and many a mile 
 
 Where never a path is found. 
 
 The fragrant ways that poppies know, 
 Where grass grows deep and free 
 
 These give the breath that I would blow : 
 No hot high road for me." 
 
 "Three verses of four lines," said Jones when he had 
 read it. "With the heading and the signature that makes 
 two inches and a quarter. I dare say we can find a corner 
 for it some day." Then with a hum and a ha, he added 
 "You had your girl with you. It's a bad habit to get into. 
 Take my advice and drop it."
 
 DRUMS AFAR 151 
 
 "Absurd," said Charles, but blushing. "You imagine 
 things." 
 
 "I've been there myself," said Jones, "and I'm just giving 
 you the tip. Do you intend to send her these in writing, 
 or will you wait and cut them out of the paper?" 
 
 "Neither." 
 
 "Well, try writing, and get her to write back. You'll 
 find out then whether she can spell. It's an awful blow to 
 an Oxford Man to learn too late that his girl spells love 
 with a V." 
 
 "Book-learning isn't everything." 
 
 "Between the educated and the semi-educated is a triple 
 wall of barbed wire. Books are comforting when you want 
 to forget your worries. And there's worry enough when 
 you get a wife." 
 
 Charles felt sure that Jones was prejudiced. In any 
 case he did not feel he knew Miss Adair well enough to 
 send her verses, but waited till they should appear in print. 
 Pen and Pencil was subscribed to by the Settlement Library, 
 so that when the poem came out three weeks later it was 
 pounced upon at once. 
 
 Within the Settlement walls he missed no chance of 
 meeting Miss Adair. Jones, when he hinted that she could 
 not spell, was surely wrong. She came to the Literary Class, 
 and took books from the Library, fiction, it is true, but 
 then their fiction was carefully selected. With a face of 
 rapt attention he had seen her listening on Sunday even- 
 ings to a course of lectures on philosophy, and she never 
 failed the Readings from Great Writers. 
 
 She seemed to be less stiff to him than to the others, and 
 on any mention of his work in Fleet Street showed unusual 
 interest. He felt on such occasions that she had marked 
 him from the crowd. 
 
 The other Residents marked it too, and did not fail to 
 tease him. They had less faith, and remembering the char- 
 acter of the Emporium which she adorned by day called 
 her "Miss Tottie Court."
 
 152 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "Tottie has got her eye on you," they would say, "also 
 on your five hundred pounds a year." 
 
 Frank made a wicked caricature in which Charles knelt 
 humbly at her feet. "Make me your footstool," he was 
 saying. "Thanks," she was answering, "that will complete 
 the suite." 
 
 All of which merely added fuel to the flame. He felt that 
 they maligned her every time he saw her, and he made a 
 point of seeing her whenever possible, going even to the 
 Furniture Emporium to buy a coal-scuttle, where indeed he 
 found her not so gracious as he might have liked. Well, 
 perhaps she thought he was reminding her she was a shop- 
 girl. Whereas by now he ranked her as a girl above her 
 class, seeking to make up for lost chances, a searcher after 
 truth, a love of romance, a dreamer of dreams misunder- 
 stood by a world of snobs. That serene face was surely an 
 indication of a fine mind. 
 
 The problem now which kept him awake at nights was, 
 how far could he go ? Did he really love the girl, and what 
 would they say at home if he proposed to marry her ? Not 
 that his family's opinion mattered much to him, but they 
 would make things most unpleasant for his wife. His sis- 
 ters were sure to imitate her accent, making it out more 
 Cockney than it really was, and would snub her if they 
 acknowledged her at all. That would be rough on Milli- 
 cent he thought of her as Millicent now. Still, he could 
 make his own new friends. After all this was practical 
 democracy he was sick of class feeling they could surely 
 face the world together. 
 
 The only cloud in the sky was William Williamson, who 
 still wore whiskers and white spats, and on close acquaint- 
 ance proved to have a genius for intrigue. Whenever there 
 was any friction at the Settlement, Williamson was sure 
 to be behind it, though cleverly under cover. On the 
 surface he was every one's best friend, but he had a way 
 of insinuating motives which caused endless trouble. He 
 was, however, popular with those who thought him funny. 
 
 Williamson had certainly the merit of persistence, and
 
 DRUMS AFAR 153 
 
 at the social evenings monopolized the much-sought after 
 Miss Adair. Fortunately he had other interests as well. 
 He liked to think he was an actor, and intrigued himself 
 into the stage management of the Dramatic Club. 
 
 Frank in the meanwhile was making headway as an artist, 
 and to his delight actually had a drawing accepted by 
 Punch. His help on the literary side of Pen and Pencil 
 was also valuable, and Charles was happy to receive some 
 letters praising the change in tone. Nevertheless the num- 
 ber of subscribers did not rise and the five thousand pounds 
 melted as the snow. 
 
 Frank began to be so busy that he dropped the Settlement, 
 but Charles and he lunched together not infrequently at 
 the Reform, the Club they both belonged to. Spring found 
 Charles faithful still to his ideals, and mothlike still flitting 
 around the flame. Spring indeed found him tempestuously 
 in love. Each time he saw the tender green upon the trees, 
 and scented the fragrance of fresh flowers, and heard the 
 birds sing, he drifted absent-mindedly along, thinking 
 of the auburn tresses which were not there. Poetry once 
 more became his safety-valve, and once more he brought 
 Jones's inch rule into play. The latter at last began to 
 shake his head when Charles produced yet another sheaf. 
 
 "The only way I can stop this," he said, "is to limit you 
 to an inch and three-quarters and pay five shillings instead 
 of half a guinea. These twelve line heart throbs are be- 
 ginning to be too damned easy. We shall have to start 
 another paper soon to work off all our unused verse, and I 
 doubt whether your respected parent would stand for that. 
 Indeed if he follows himself the tips he gives in his Finan- 
 cial column, your father must be on the verge of bankruptcy. 
 I myself have made twice my salary by selling when he 
 recommends to buy." 
 
 Charles gave a sickly grin. 
 
 "Thanks for the hint," he said. "I suspected that there 
 was something underneath that generosity. I suppose we'll 
 have to give the old man the sack, but first of all I want 
 this particular poem to appear. It really is my best, and I
 
 154 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 don't care what happens afterwards if this is only printed." 
 
 "Let's have a look," said Jones. 
 
 Then after a little, he said : 
 
 "Humph, the same girl, I suppose. Have you found out 
 yet if she can spell ? Never investigated ? Well, you deserve 
 the worst. A man like you, with all this education, spend- 
 ing your father's money on the Reform of British Journal- 
 ism, ready to kill a man you hardly know because he does 
 not write like Walter Pater, and ready to love, honour and 
 obey a woman who may have to sign her name with a cross. 
 Charles Fitzmorris, I am surprised, not to say pained." 
 
 "Well, print it," said Charles, "and then perhaps I'll 
 follow your advice." 
 
 "At least," said Jones, reading the poem again, "it might 
 have been worse." 
 
 The poem duly appeared, was admired and passed from 
 hand to hand at the Settlement. Charles was embarrassed 
 at the praise he received, and yet rather liked the distinc- 
 tion, hoping that Millicent Adair would also see the poem, 
 and also like it. But during the last week she had not 
 shown up, and in spite of Jones's sarcasm he was too shy 
 even to send it to her. 
 
 Growing desperate at last, he haunted the Street in which 
 the Emporium was located, hoping to get a glimpse of her 
 at closing time. 
 
 But there were several exits, and the one he waited at 
 was not the one reserved for those who were "living in." 
 These, moreover, could not escape till they had partaken 
 of the half-cooked supper which was part of their miserable 
 wage. 
 
 Chancing however to go one Thursday afternoon for tea 
 into Lyons' at the corner, his heart leaped as he saw her 
 sitting alone. She caught sight of him at the same time, 
 blushed and smiled at him. Taking courage in both hands 
 he went and asked her if he might sit at her table. 
 
 "Please do," she said. "I was just thinking about you. 
 Look, I have last week's Pen and Pencil with me." 
 
 This was beyond his wildest hopes. Surely she must
 
 DRUMS AFAR 155 
 
 care for him. So far he had avoided speaking to her of his 
 literary work, but here she had gone so far as to buy a 
 copy of the paper containing his poem, six whole pence, a 
 lot out of a shopgirl's weekly pittance. 
 
 "Miss Adair," he said then to the waitress, "Yes, a 
 cup of tea " "You should not have bought a copy. 
 I would have been glad to give it to you if I thought you 
 took an interest in it. Won't you let me put your name on 
 the free list? I am a director, you know, and can easily 
 arrange it. Do let me have your address." 
 
 "Oh, thank you so much," she answered gratefully. 
 "That would be so nice. We should have two copies then. 
 You see I did not really not pay for this it is William's 
 office copy." 
 
 "William?" Hateful name! Was that William Wil- 
 liamson ? 
 
 "I think," she continued, "that the one he did this week 
 was the best of all it is just fine." 
 
 "The what who did?" asked Charles, rapidly turning 
 over in his mind the contributions appearing in that num- 
 ber. William Williamson ? there was nothing that he could 
 identify, certainly with that detestable person. 
 
 "The advertisement for Bunn's Blue Pills," she answered. 
 "Didn't you know that Mr. Williamson was their literary 
 assistant ? I think his style elegant, and I have wanted for 
 some time to ask you to try and get him a position with 
 a better salary. He just gets thirty shillings a week." 
 
 If there was one side of the paper that Charles disliked, 
 it was the advertising side. He hated Watson, the adver- 
 tising manager, whom he thought a bounder, he hated the 
 space the advertisements took up, often knocking out or 
 cutting down his own contributions, he hated the puff para- 
 graphs about motor cars and toilet articles, appearing as 
 fill-ups at the back of the paper, and lowering the tone of 
 the rest. 
 
 When therefore she talked about Bunn's Blue Pills, 
 Charles was in the dark. He had not noticed what she 
 referred to.
 
 156 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "Let me see it," he said, holding his hand out for the 
 paper. 
 
 She passed it, a corner of the page turned down. It was 
 illustrated with third rate drawings of the human form in 
 various contorted attitudes, suffering according to the text 
 from acute but avoidable pain. The letterpress itself ran 
 as follows: 
 
 "Bunn's Blue Pills came to the modern children of Israel 
 like manna in the oasis. They are like Mecca to the Arab 
 steed and sweep like the Assyrian upon the fold of intesti- 
 nal troubles. Like Orion and the Pleiades, Bunn's Blue 
 Pills float above our dark and troublous life, lighting our 
 way to the carefree digestion of the cassowary, in whose 
 spacious stomach a stone becomes as soft and succulent as 
 Turkish Delight. The discovery of the United States by 
 Christopher Columbus was nothing as to this world-upheav- 
 ing discovery by Professor Bunn, who stands like Moses 
 upon a peak in Darien, holding his rod over the promised 
 land of impregnable digestions. He has found a purgatory 
 for the Inferno, and a Canaan for the catarrhal affections. 
 Mrs. Elizabeth Adair says, 
 
 " 'For years I was the despair of every physician and 
 surgeon in Harley Street. I saw my fortune rapidly 
 dwindling in hundred guinea fees. They dosed me with 
 Greek prescriptions and operated on me fifty times till ' 
 
 "Who is Mrs. Elizabeth Adair ?" asked Charles, unable to 
 stand more. 
 
 "An aunt of mine," she replied with glee. "Don't you 
 think it was clever of William to have invented that about 
 the hundred guinea fees ? And then the Assyrian swooping 
 down on the fold that's Byron, of course and the peak 
 in Darien that's Keats real literature the rest of course 
 is William." 
 
 "I didn't think it was possible," said Charles feebly, as 
 he read it again. 
 
 "Ah, but you don't know William," she replied. "He was 
 the most original student of his time when he took the 
 Correspondence Course in English Composition. That's
 
 DRUMS AFAR 157 
 
 what the professor said. I can show you the letter in which 
 he remarks that William wrote like a blend of Julius Caesar 
 with Ouida and the Book of Revelations. William has that 
 letter framed in the same style as the furniture we are 
 buying on the instalment plan Louis Quartz we call it at 
 the Emporium. Did I tell you that we were married last 
 week?" 
 
 "Married?" 
 
 "Yes, married. I always wanted to be the wife of a 
 literary genius and William won my heart through my 
 head ; but I do want him to get the recognition he deserves. 
 Don't you think, Mr. Fitzmorris, you could make him 
 assistant editor. I'm sure he could improve your paper 
 he says so himself. I've so often wanted to speak to you 
 about William, but till I married him I hadn't the right to 
 speak for him, it didn't seem dignified." 
 
 So that explained it all ! The scales fell from his eyes. 
 What an escape ! The very thought made him sick. 
 
 Yet it was not in his nature to be rude. 
 
 There was something pathetic in her faith in her William, 
 bounder though he was. 
 
 "Give me your address," he said. "I'll speak to our ad- 
 vertising man about your husband. But at present, I'm 
 sorry I can't hold out any prospect of editorial work. 
 
 She loked disappointed, but thanked him and gave him 
 the address. And so they parted. 
 
 "Here endeth the second lesson," said Charles, to himself 
 as soon as he was out in the open air. Then he tore up 
 the card with the address into little pieces. "Not so long 
 as I live !" he muttered, as he stamped them underfoot. 
 
 Hurrying to the Club, he telephoned Frank. 
 
 "For God's sake, Frank," he said, "come and dine with 
 me." 
 
 "Right you are," said Frank. "Let's make a night of it. 
 Had another drawing taken by Punch, and wish to cele- 
 brate. What do you say to the Empire ? Pretty good show, 
 according to the papers, and it's always bright and cheerful 
 there. All serene seven o'clock so long."
 
 158 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 Bright and cheerful ! certainly he needed something to 
 distract his thoughts. 
 
 What an ass he had been! To think it should have 
 taken him a year to make this discovery. If only he had 
 followed Jones's advice and put her to the test. 
 
 That Williamson of all men should be her ideal ! 
 
 What was that Jones had said? "Between the educated 
 and the semi-educated there is a triple wall of barbed wire." 
 
 When Frank arrived he saw that something had occurred 
 .to upset his friend, and it did not take long to find the 
 reason. Frank never had much faith in Millicent whose 
 airs he thought insufferable, and when he read her Wil- 
 liam's masterpiece the humour of it all overcame consid- 
 eration for Charles's feelings and he collapsed with 
 laughter. 
 
 "Save me! Save me!" he said, the tears running down 
 his cheeks. "This is a classic. Let us drink the health of 
 London's latest literary star. She is right in calling him a 
 genius. And yet," he continued, recovering himself, "you 
 have only to read the fashion columns in your own pet 
 paper to see that this is the kind of slush that women dote 
 on. This is the language Daphne Dewdrop writes in about 
 hats and gowns, and all that William has done has been to 
 adapt it to the sale of pills. You divinity has had no 
 other mental food since she put up her hair. You can't 
 expect her to acquire the Oxford attitude to life behind 
 a London counter." 
 
 "Very possible," said Charles, "but that does not bring 
 me back my lost ideal. How would you like to find the 
 woman you loved had the intellect of an Easter Egg? It's 
 funny for you, but it's hell for me. Frank, old top, I'm 
 going to take to drink." 
 
 "Good idea !" said Frank. "But this is my party. There's 
 a particular kind of fizz which will make you forget home 
 and mother quicker than anything else I know German, 
 I believe, and made out of rotten apples. Waiter, let's have 
 the wine list." 
 
 Warmed by the first glass, Charles saw the dinner and
 
 DRUMS AFAR 159 
 
 the world in general in a rosier light, and could discuss the 
 tragedy with more composure. 
 
 "Fact is, Frank," he said, "we're both of us intellectual 
 prigs. Style is only an acrobatic skill in manipulating lan- 
 guage, and has no more connection with the moral qualities 
 of a husband than Norman ancestors or a fat income. I 
 don't suppose one's conversation with one's wife at break- 
 fast centres round the place of George Meredith in English 
 literature so much as the health of the baby and the fresh- 
 ness of the egg. After she is the mother of two, even the 
 sweetest girl graduate talks more about her servants and 
 the price of clothes than of the decay of Kipling and the 
 split infinitive. She doesn't love him less because he can't 
 darn a stocking or beat down the butcher." 
 
 "Wise philosophy," said Frank. "We put our girls upon 
 the pedestal we really think of for ourselves. We make 
 them in our own image. Damn the split infinitive. Let's 
 split another bottle."
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 WHEN Charles informed the Warden that he in- 
 tended to give up his rooms in the Settlement, 
 the latter expressed no surprise. 
 
 "The fact is, Fitzmorris," he said, "you did 
 not come here altogether in the right spirit. It was not the 
 working classes you desired to elevate so much as a par- 
 ticular one of them who, as I suppose you have discovered, 
 has preferred not to be elevated, at least to the height you 
 intended. Your blushes show that I am a pretty good 
 guesser. Well, I don't blame you for being human, and for 
 your own sake and I am not sorry it has turned out the way 
 it has. She was a hopeless case, just like ninety per cent of 
 our other Associates you see I have no illusions. Yet ten 
 per cent is worth going after the greatest of all reformers 
 said that he would rather win the one than the ninety 
 and nine." 
 
 After leaving the Settlement, Charles thought at first of 
 going back to his family at Richmond, but as he now went 
 to so many first nights decided that Richmond was too far 
 away, and took a bachelor flat in St. James's Court. Once 
 a week he prowled round in search of "copy" with Frank, 
 taking subjects which Frank could illustrate and he could 
 amusingly describe the street market for stolen bicycles, a 
 day with the militants, the new cabarets, the craze for 
 picture theatres. In this way he came to have an intimate 
 knowledge of London life, and being by no means unobser- 
 ant came to be of genuine help to Jones. 
 
 Then he thought of a holiday in Germany, revisiting and 
 renewing friendship with motherly old Frau Pastorin. He 
 wrote to her, asking how she was, how Gottingen was, and 
 if any of the people he had known were there still. 
 
 When he read her answer, he decided to stay in England. 
 Circumstances had evidently changed. 
 
 160
 
 DRUMS AFAR 161 
 
 "MY DEAR YOUNG FRIEND, 
 
 "How pleasant it is to think you have not forgotten Frau 
 Pastorin in this far-off Gottingen. A dozen times have I 
 put on my spectacles and smiled as I read your charming 
 letter, so full of warm feeling and so tender in its thought 
 of an old housewife such as myself. Yes, dear Emma is 
 married happily married to a rising doctor. She now lives 
 in Berlin in a great apartment with two servants. Georg 
 has gone to sea again after being home once more; his 
 manners, I fear, have not improved. Dear Karl still studies 
 chemistry, but makes his doctor examinations this year 
 and will very likely remain in Gottingen as assistant to his 
 Professor. Karl has been a good son to me, and my moth- 
 er's heart rejoices at his progress. Some day, I feel sure, 
 he will himself be a professor. 
 
 "So much for ourselves, but Gottingen, alas, has greatly 
 changed ! It is not so much the physical as the moral change 
 which terrifies me. No longer is there the old friendly 
 welcome for the foreign student. The Russians in par- 
 ticular are looked on with suspicion, and are frequently in- 
 sulted. Karl says that the mischief started with an Ameri- 
 can doctor who last year founded an International Student 
 Club, the object of which was to promote the cause of 
 Peace. The Club had many members among the foreigners, 
 but the German students held aloof from it The climax 
 came through a visit from the famous Norman Angell, who 
 gave an address in English on the subject 'He Who Loses, 
 Wins.' His meeting was almost broken up by some of our 
 Corps Students who shouted 'Deutsch! Deutsch!' These 
 organized a countermeeting very shortly afterwards, at 
 which two thousand students and others were present to 
 applaud those who denounced the peacemakers. So great 
 was the excitement that the International Student Club was 
 ordered to be disbanded, and double fees are now charged 
 to foreign students attending the laboratory courses. The 
 chauvinism here has become so great that many of our 
 friends are leaving. My English and American boarders 
 are very nice to me, but they find it unpleasant at the lee-
 
 162 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 tures and even at the Stadtpark, so I cannot blame them 
 if they leave our University of Gottingen to the Germans. 
 It is true that this unpleasantness is directed chiefly at the 
 Russians, but there are some who are impolite to every 
 foreigner. 
 
 "Fortunately for myself I am no longer dependent on my 
 pension, which indeed I have just sold to another lady. 
 For in the world of letters I am making headway and earn 
 a comfortable income from my pen. I have a commission 
 to translate some of your English authors and would be 
 glad if you could send me novels by your clever young 
 men. But it grieves me to think that foolish student quar- 
 rels should separate us Germans from our English and 
 American friends. Dark thunderclouds are threatening, 
 and all over the land there are rumours of an approaching 
 storm. God grant it may never break ! 
 
 "Karl, who contributes articles to the Export Zeitung of 
 Leipzig says that war between Germany and Russia would 
 set back German industry by twenty years, even if Ger- 
 many won. In the meanwhile, dear friend, we all hope for 
 the best. 
 
 "But let me close this letter with more pleasant thoughts. 
 I treasure the photograph you left with us, and every 
 time I write about England, my memory calls up the fair- 
 haired, blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked, clean-shaven, kindly Ox- 
 ford man, who for three short months brought sunshine 
 into my house and into my heart. I can still hear his 
 good-natured laugh when he found he had made a faux 
 pas through ignorance of German, and my memory rings 
 sweet with the old English ballads he used to sing to my 
 faltering accompaniment. You do not say that you are 
 married, or ever engaged to be married. Are you still so 
 shy ? Can you not ask me, a born matchmaker, to visit you 
 in England and find for you the ideal maiden who will make 
 you happy ? 
 
 "Ever your devoted friend, 
 
 "AMALIA SCHMIDT."
 
 DRUMS AFAR 163 
 
 Charles read the first part of the letter to Jones. 
 
 "What do you think of getting out a scare number," 
 he suggested, "and call it 'The Coming War between Slav 
 and Teuton'." 
 
 "Not a bad idea," said the editor. "We want something 
 to wake up the circulation. By Jingo, a war like that 
 would give us new life ! We should have gone under if it 
 had not been for the Boer War, and the Russo-Japanese 
 gave us quite a fillip. The Balkan fights cost more than 
 they were worth and then missed fire, but a Russo-German 
 tussle would be a regular godsend." 
 
 "You bloodthirsty brute !" exclaimed Charles. "What if 
 England herself should get dragged in?" 
 
 "Not a ghost of a chance with the Liberals in power. 
 Asquith will sit tight, and we shall sell all we have to sell 
 to both sides. The English have a genius for getting rich 
 while other people are winning glory. Let these continental 
 fellows fire a few million shells at each other, and leave us 
 to get the business." 
 
 After a fortnight Jones turned out a war-scare number 
 which had the desired effect. Charles was pleased at the 
 part he had taken in the number, and began to take more 
 interest than ever in his work. 
 
 The memory of Viola made him pay particular attention 
 to Woman's Suffrage, and he urged Jones to illustrate the 
 movement, much to that worthy's disgust. 
 
 "Won't sell an extra copy," he said. "Half of them are 
 actresses out of a job. What we want is pictures of 
 actresses on the job, and known to the Johnnies the good- 
 looking ones on the picture postcards and in the advertise- 
 ments for tooth powder." 
 
 Yet there was sometimes unexpected revenue front 
 Charles's fads. He noticed for example that a rich Ameri- 
 can Suffragist, Mrs. Schomberg, whose daughter had soared 
 into a ducal embrace, was due on a visit to England. Before 
 leaving New York she had announced in public that she so 
 hated England for its treatment of the militants that she 
 would not spend a cent on English soil. From what he
 
 164 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 gathered from accounts of the lady in American Sunday 
 newspapers he concluded that her proposed holiday was 
 tinged with a desire for notoriety, a feeling not uncommon 
 in English as well as American society. To give her portrait a 
 full front page, to trace her purchases in London, to write 
 a racy story on "Our American Mothers-in-Law" was to 
 make the journalistic hit of the week. There was a run on 
 the number, a particularly large order coming from the 
 bookstall near Mrs. Schomberg's hotel, and Jones began 
 to treat Charles with respect. 
 
 The only drawback to Charles's content was the growing 
 prospect of seeing an advertisement of Bunn's Blue Pills 
 in every number. Each of these seemed more horrible 
 than the last. Charles asked Watson, the advertising mana- 
 ger, if he could not break the contract and throw them out, 
 but the mere suggestion made the latter apoplectic. 
 
 "It's the only thing that keeps the paper alive," he said. 
 "You might as well commit suicide at once." 
 
 "One can always commit murder," retorted Charles. 
 
 Many a time Charles sat over the fire in his rooms 
 wondering whether he would ever meet the girl. So far his 
 experience with the fair sex had not been flattering to his 
 self-esteem. Viola had treated him as a youth in knicker- 
 bockers. Miss Raymond, the Chicago girl, had snubbed 
 him as an inefficient Englishman. Millicent Adair had 
 overlooked him for a half -educated buffoon. And yet he 
 knew he was not bad-looking, he was strong and manly 
 and healthy, he could hold his own in conversation with 
 most What was the matter? 
 
 Perhaps it was his own fault. Perhaps he had been 
 unwise to evade his sisters' friends they might not be so 
 violet as they were painted. Perhaps he should give more 
 time to afternoon teas in drawing-rooms, call on some of 
 these suffragettes he met in Fleet Street they seemed to 
 live on tea. Heavens no! He wanted something more 
 robust than that.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 WINTER passed without any further heart-adven- 
 ture, but when spring warmed into summer, out 
 shone the sun again upon romance. 
 It began with the Morning Post. 
 
 "What do you think of this?" said Jones one day, point- 
 ing to a concert advertisement. 
 Charles read: 
 
 UNDER NO PATRONAGE. 
 Song Concert 
 
 in the 
 Queen's Small Hall 
 
 by a 
 Contralto 
 
 Hitherto Unknown 
 
 Miss Madeline Raymond 
 
 of Chicago 
 
 assisted by 
 
 Ivanoff Tschovkovsky 
 
 Violinist 
 Friday June 3Oth 
 
 8.30 p.m. 
 
 Concert Direction Mayhew 
 
 Tickets half a guinea at Ashton's 
 
 and all libraries 
 
 "Under No Patronage?" said Charles. "Is this the 
 millennium?" Then the significance of the name of the 
 singer dawned upon him. 
 
 "By Jove," he exclaimed, "I believe I know her!" 
 
 "Good-looking?" 
 
 "You bet!" 
 
 165
 
 166 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "Can she sing?" 
 
 "She could two years ago. Since then she has studied 
 in Rome and Milan, probably also in Paris, but I lost touch 
 with her, and can't exactly tell." 
 
 Madeline Raymond ! 
 
 A flood of memories poured upon him. He recalled as 
 if it were only yesterday that svelte figure in the Kleber- 
 platz at Strasburg, that reckless chin, those dark liquid 
 eyes, that stunning raven hair and that voice ! 
 
 "Jones," he said with sudden determination, "we must 
 give her a page." 
 
 "A page! And this on Tuesday! Last forme goes to 
 press to-night. What would Watson ssy? Does Mayhew 
 advertise with us now?" 
 
 "Damn Watson," said Charles, remembering many 
 clashes, and particularly Bunn's Blue Pills. "If you are 
 afraid, I'll do this off my own bat. I'm going to take a 
 taxi and fetch her picture. Telephone to Mayhew that I'm 
 coming." 
 
 In a quarter of an hour he found the concert manager 
 waiting for him and was pleased-to-meet-you'd by a tall 
 stout elderly man with square jaws and aquiline nose, who 
 offered a card bearing the imprint 
 
 "Henry Raymond Jr. 
 
 Raymond Printing Company, 
 
 Chicago, 111." 
 
 "Henry Raymond Jr.?" questioned Charles. 
 
 "Sure thing ! Presume you wish to do a write up of my 
 daughter, and use a cut. Madeline, where are the photos?" 
 
 Miss Raymond, who was writing at a desk with her back 
 to the door when Charles entered, but whose silky, black 
 piled-up hair was unmistakable, rose to the call and came 
 forward with a parcel in her hand. Then, seeing who it 
 was, 
 
 "Mr. Fitzmorris ! Well, isn't this great ! Where did you 
 drop from? Father, this is a gentleman we met at Stras-
 
 DRUMS AFAR 167 
 
 burg, quite a singer himself. Mother has been dippy to 
 see him ever since." 
 
 "That's bully," said Henry Raymond Jr., "I thought he 
 was a newspaper man." 
 
 "So he is," said Charles, "and in a hurry too. I happen 
 to be director of an illustrated paper, and I want your 
 picture, Miss Raymond, for this week's issue. It may 
 help you with your concert." 
 
 "Now, that's what I call a friend," she said, blushing and 
 smiling so that he thought she had never seemed so attrac- 
 tive. Charmingly dressed, her hat and gown were after 
 all no more fetching than her face, which with its slightly 
 lifted eyebrows, its jet-black melting eyes, its warm skin 
 and half -open arch of a mouth made a deadly appeal to his 
 young heart. He was glad to see that her nose was not 
 powdered. She had a bundle of large photographs, Ameri- 
 can style, each in its special folded wrapper. One in par- 
 ticular made an attractive picture. 
 
 "Hits you in the eye all right," he said, holding it at 
 arm's length, "but it's marked copyright." 
 
 "We'll fix that," said the father. "Just acknowledge the 
 photographer." 
 
 "Now have you a piano handy?" said Charles. "Let me 
 hear you sing." 
 
 "Hold on !" interrupted the father. "Two dollars fifty 
 I mean half a guinea next Friday, young man." 
 
 "Nonsense, father," said the daughter, laughing, "this is 
 an old friend. Besides as a newspaper man he's entitled 
 to a pass." 
 
 "Well, have it your own way." 
 
 "You see," explained Charles, "my paper, Pen and Pencil, 
 comes out on Friday morning, and I want to be on the safe 
 side. I want to hear how Miss Raymond sings, so that I 
 can write something about her." 
 
 "Go ahead then, if that's so. Madeline, get busy." 
 
 Charles thrilled to hear her voice again. It was fuller 
 and rounder now, more velvety and with a timbre which he 
 did not remember before. She sang Tschaikowsky's "To
 
 i68 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 the Forest," putting into the song more rapture and at the 
 same time more finished expression than he remembered 
 before. 
 
 "Perfect," said Charles, sighing with the delight in such 
 art. 
 
 "Thank you," she said, and as she said it he saw the 
 tears in her eyes. She must indeed have put her heart into 
 it. 
 
 Time, however, was passing. 
 
 "Now," said Charles, "do me the favour of coming with 
 me to the office. There is so little time to spare, and you 
 could give me an interview in the taxi." 
 
 "No you don't," said Henry Raymond. "There may be 
 other reporters, and my daughter must be on tap. Here's 
 a type-written story I've gotten ready, and if you want 
 more ring up Paddington 2403." 
 
 "Father," expostulated the singer, "Mr. Fitzmorris wants 
 something special, I am going with him, and if any others 
 call you hold them till I come back. Besides I want to 
 talk to him about Strasburg. We shan't be long, shall we ?" 
 smiling at Charles. 
 
 "Half an hour or so," said the latter. 
 
 On the way to the office he plied her with questions as 
 to what she had done since they last met. 
 
 "You never answered my last letter," he said. 
 
 "Come now," she replied, evading him. "This is an in- 
 terview, not a cross-examination. Better ask me questions 
 on my career. Remember to say that I just dote on 
 Brahms." 
 
 Arrived at the office, he asked her to wait in the taxi while 
 he made arrangements with the editor. Then rushing up- 
 stairs he told Jones to make it the front page. 
 
 "That's all fixed," said Charles as he stepped in again 
 beside Miss Raymond, telling the driver to go back. "Of 
 course you'll dine with me one night?" 
 
 "Delighted, I'm sure I just love your London restau- 
 rants you are not such back numbers as I used to think 
 in Strasburg."
 
 DRUMS AFAR 169 
 
 "Have you been to Julien's yet?" 
 
 "Why, no." 
 
 "Well then, Julien's, on Saturday night, after you have 
 got over the excitement, and then follow on with a theatre." 
 
 "And then you'll have supper with us at the hotel." 
 
 "And then," said Charles, not to be outdone, "I'll take 
 you to church on Sunday this is not a proposal." 
 
 Her laugh was very musical. She shot her eyes at him 
 again as she answered. 
 
 "At this speed, it would have to be not a church but a 
 registry. Tell me the address of a good press-clipping 
 bureau? I'll want all the notices I can get to show my 
 friends in Chicago." 
 
 "Are you going back so soon ?" 
 
 "Why yes, I suppose I oughtn't to give away the game, 
 but this is just a stunt of Father's to get my picture in the 
 papers. The concert agent said it couldn't be done unless 
 we got a duchess. Father said he'd do it without and make 
 money on it. Anyway he can afford to lose He's pretty 
 well fixed Raymond Printing Company has two hundred 
 employes, and the plant is always working to capacity. I 
 know now that I can never be a great prima donna, but I 
 can sing as well as most, and father says he could put the 
 hall in his vest pocket." 
 
 "This is a different attitude from your Strasburg days," 
 said Charles. "Don't you remember how you used to sniff 
 at everything English?" 
 
 "That was two years ago," she answered with a laugh. 
 "I've grown wise in my old age. I found out what you 
 said about the London hall-mark was correct. The strange 
 thing is that a nation so unmusical should set the pace in 
 musical opinion." 
 
 "It's not the English here who set the pace," said Charles. 
 "It's the Jews of Hampstead and Bayswater and Park 
 Lane, to whom we give a habitation and a name. By the 
 way, how is your mother? It was rude of me not to ask 
 for her before." 
 
 "Mother's feeling fine. Her only grief is that she is
 
 170 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 putting on flesh. She will be tickled to death to meet you 
 again on Friday. Won't you come in and say hullo to her 
 over the telephone?" 
 
 "Afraid I haven't time. Must rush back and write this 
 article. Here we are again at Mayhew's. See you again 
 on Friday," he added, as he handed her out of the taxi. 
 "No, I won't come in. Send me a seat in the fourth row, 
 and I'll promise to cheer. Remember me kindly to your 
 mother. Au revoir" 
 
 Hurrying back to the office, he wrote a eulogy which 
 made Madeline Raymond out to be another Kirkby Lunn. 
 
 "How much of this is true ?" asked Jones as he read the 
 manuscript. "Is this some more of your damned poetry ? I 
 don't think much of it. 
 
 "There be none of Beauty's daughters 
 
 With a magic like thee, 
 And like music on the waters 
 Is thy sweet voice to me." 
 
 "That's not mine," protested Charles. "That's Byron." 
 
 "Oh, Byron! All right, I suppose it will have to go in. 
 Put me down for a piece of the wedding cake." 
 
 If Charles had not been used to Jones's chaff, he might 
 have been vexed. And yet he was not in the mood to be 
 angry with any one. Swept into the limbo of forgotten 
 things was the unrequited affection for Millicent Adair. 
 Here in Madeline Raymond was a girl more of his own 
 kind not separated by the charm of class an American, 
 but after all were not Americans first cousins? Viola 
 Mainwaring had married an American and not regretted it 
 she wrote perfectly happy letters to her brother Frank, 
 and had not yet quarrelled with her mother-in-law. 
 
 Then "Hold on, Charles," he said to himself, "this is 
 going too fast. She never encouraged you much in Stras- 
 burg, and all she has done now is to be nice because you are 
 going to publish her picture."
 
 DRUMS AFAR 171 
 
 Nevertheless the image of her and the memory of her 
 voice broke his slumber. 
 
 Next day Watson, the advertising manager, who was also 
 n director, swooped down upon him with wrath on his brow. 
 
 He was known as the "Walking Tornado" from his 
 affectation of tremendous haste. 
 
 "What in blazes did you do this for?" he thundered. 
 "You are only one of the directors, not the Board, and this 
 should have been my sanction. We must keep down ex- 
 penses." 
 
 "All right, old chap," said Charles soothingly. "I can 
 assure you this new singer will be the rage, and we must 
 not let any other paper discover her. How many tickets do 
 you want for your clients?" 
 
 This was an inspiration. Fearing that the concert might 
 be a fiasco Charles had bought a hundred tickets on the 
 way to the office, without making plans how to get rid of 
 so many. Watson however fell to the snarer, and Charles 
 had only forty left before the day was done. These he 
 sent to his own family, to his brother-in-law, to the Main- 
 warings, to Roberts the third director, and to acquaintances 
 on whom he could depend to go to any entertainment which 
 cost them nothing. 
 
 The clouds were not long in clearing. The Daily Mail 
 came out on Thursday morning with a leading article on 
 the English attitude to music. 
 
 "Who Miss Madeline Raymond may be, we do not 
 know or care she may be another Julia Ravogli or croak 
 like a frog. But the announcement of her concert might 
 very well be the end of patronage in music, just as Dr. 
 Samuel Johnson's famous letter to Lord Chesterfield was 
 the deathblow to patronage in letters. We fear however 
 that hers is a voice crying in the wilderness, for music in 
 London whether at the opera or in the concert-hall is merely 
 an appanage of the Season and an excuse for seeing the 
 coronets of the Great. Tetrazzini first drew the crowd here 
 not because of her perfect voice but because she was re-
 
 172 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 ported to have received five hundred pounds for singing 
 one night at the reception of a duchess. Without the aid 
 of titled patronage, musical talent would have little chance 
 of being heard in this the greatest city in the world." 
 
 The directors' meeting on Friday passed off peaceably 
 enough. Roberts was cynical, but neither he nor Watson 
 could deny that the lady was not a public character. Curi- 
 osity indeed was widely aroused, every seat in the hall was 
 filled, and the musical critics turned up in force. 
 
 The violinist led off with a creditable rendering of 
 Dvorak's "Humoreske" and then Madeline Raymond her- 
 self came on, led by her father. 
 
 Charles had sent her a bouquet of red roses, and his heart 
 beat high to see her carry this on to the platform. She 
 was dressed in corsage and skirt of mauve silk under a tunic 
 of silver brocade edged with black sable and clasped at the 
 girdle with a large bow strung with pearls. The sable 
 carried on the jet-black note of her hair, startling in its 
 intensity. 
 
 "If she can sing as well as she can dress, she'll do," he 
 overheard a lady in the seat behind him say. 
 
 Without a trace of nervousness she sang the dream-song 
 "Traume," Wagner's haunting melody. A spirit of en- 
 chanted melancholy seemed to pervade her voice, and a sigh 
 rather than the usual careless applause followed the last 
 full tones. Then came Brahms's cradle song: 
 
 "Guten Abend, gut' Nacht, 
 Mit Rosen bedacht." 
 
 Her figure swayed with tender animation as she sang, 
 and the bell-like tones of her upper register cleared the sad 
 atmosphere of the first song. 
 
 An interval of violin was followed by two operatic songs 
 from Saint-Saens' "Samson and Delilah" "Mon co3ur 
 s'ouvre a ta voix" and "Printemps qui commence" ren- 
 dered with such charm that an encore was demanded. For
 
 DRUMS AFAR 173 
 
 that she gave an English song perhaps it was American 
 very sweet, in which the words ran: 
 
 The sweetest flower that blows 
 I give you as we part; 
 For you it is a rose, 
 For me it is my heart. 
 
 The fragrance it exhales 
 (Ah if you only knew!) 
 Which but in dying fails 
 It is my love for you. 
 
 She lifted the bouquet he had given her as if scenting 
 its fragrance, and though she sang without looking at him 
 there was surely some thought in this for him. 
 
 During the interval that followed, Charles shook hands 
 with some of those to whom he had sent tickets. They all 
 expressed themselves delighted, and the Warden wished 
 the lady to sing at the Settlement one Sunday evening. 
 
 Watson was there with a bevy fearfully and wonderfully 
 dressed. 
 
 "I forgive you," he said in a stage whisper to Charles. 
 "Just got an order from Antiphat on the strength of two 
 tickets and Buggins of Internal Soap has asked me to 
 lunch with him to-morrow. That's him over there in the 
 long hair and whiskers. If you could get this singer to 
 sample the stuff and write a testimonial, he would be good 
 for three pages." 
 
 Charles muttered something about trying, and then dis- 
 covered that he must shake hands with some one at the 
 other side of the hall. Over there he happened on the 
 Mainwarings and so saved his reputation. 
 
 "We don't go out much now," said Mrs. Mainwaring, 
 "but we could not resist when we saw the singer came from 
 Chicago. And what do you think ! Just this very afternoon 
 came a cable from Viola's husband saying they had a little 
 baby boy. Wasn't it a coincidence?"
 
 174 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "I'm so glad," said Charles heartily. "You must tell 
 her that I want to be godfather." 
 
 "Write yourself," said Mrs. Mainwaring. "I think some- 
 times Viola has been homesick, and she loves to get a letter 
 from old friends." 
 
 Just then Madeline reappeared, so Charles returned to 
 his seat. Curiously enough, her next song was the seven- 
 teenth century, Lady Anne Bothwell's Lullaby, 
 
 "Baloo my babe, lie still and sleep, 
 It grieves me sair to see thee weep." 
 
 a cradle song of sombre cadences like a wind full of rain. 
 Charles trembled to think of its effect on the superstitious 
 Mrs. Mainwaring, but then as if by instinct the singer 
 changed the sequence of her programme and followed with 
 the charming fantasy of "Wynken, Blynken and Nod," 
 Alicia Needham's setting of Eugene Field's tender poem 
 of childhood. In response to an encore she gave an old 
 French Noel, "Dans cet Stable," picturing the little Christ 
 Child lying in the manger, the old old story, which never 
 grows old. 
 
 Then after more violin came Tchaikowsky's "To the 
 Forest," more exquisitely sung even than he had heard it 
 in the concert agent's office, 'folio wed by an English version 
 of "Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt" "Ye Who Have 
 Yearned Alone." Last of all came two songs based on 
 American Indian music "The Moon Drops Low" and 
 "White Dawn is Stealing" exotic music which she sang 
 with such intensity that the audience was once more carried 
 away. She came back therefore and closed with another 
 Alicia Needham setting of Eugene Field, a negro lullaby 
 "Croodlin' Doo." 
 
 At the end of the concert he went behind to congratulate. 
 Mrs. Raymond, distinctly stout, welcomed him warmly. 
 Henry Raymond was handing round champagne. 
 
 "Come along, Mr. Fitzmorris, we're real glad to see you," 
 was his greeting. "Isn't Madeline great? I guess this will
 
 DRUMS AFAR 175 
 
 *make her friends in Chicago take notice. House full and 
 hardly any paper. Can you beat it ? Shows you what can 
 be done if you pull the strings right. See the Daily Mail's 
 'Deathblow to Patronage'? If you know any one wanting 
 an advance agent, tell them of Henry Raymond." 
 
 "How did it go?" whispered Madeline. 
 
 "First rate," answered Charles. "I'm glad I gave you 
 our front page. You've made a hit. Now don't forget 
 to-morrow evening at Julien's make it seven o'clock, as we 
 go on to the theatre." 
 
 The notices in next morning's papers were good-tempered 
 and even flattering. Madeline was radiant at the restau- 
 rant. She was the more conspicuous because she wore a 
 hat at dinner, whereas the Englishwomen present were un- 
 covered. Mr. and Mrs. Raymond had evidently come for 
 food, and Charles was glad that they were satisfied. 
 
 "Our ideas of London are all wrong," said the father. 
 "It's a chilly place, but it has Chicago skinned on taste. 
 Look at the ladies here. They're all high-steppers, and 
 Madeline, my dear, next time you come here, check your 
 hat. It doesn't belong." 
 
 Miss Raymond flushed. 
 
 "No don't," said Charles, "we are birds too much of a 
 feather, and your hat is charming. There's not a woman 
 here but wishes she could wear it as well. In the theatre, 
 however, if I might suggest " 
 
 "Of course, I understand," said Madeline, thanking him 
 with a smile. 
 
 Two taxis were needed to take them to the theatre, and 
 Charles stepped in with the mother. 
 
 "No American would have been so unselfish," said Mrs. 
 Raymond. "How I wish our boys had your manners. But 
 going to" the hotel, you take my daughter. She wants to 
 thank you for that picture in your magazine." 
 
 Charles took the hint and had his tete-a-tete with Made- 
 line en route to the Carlton. 
 
 "I was so excited yesterday, I forgot to thank you 
 properly. This means so much to me my friends would
 
 176 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 have guyed me unmercifully if it had been a frost. Ever 
 wear a tie-pin?" 
 
 She held out a tiny case. 
 
 "This is to keep you from being conceited," she said 
 laughing. "When you look in the glass to pin this on, you 
 may think of some one else besides yourself. You'll find an 
 inscription on the back. Too dark to read it here but 
 it will keep." 
 
 "You must pin it on yourself to-morrow, before we go 
 to church." 
 
 As he handed his coat to the cloakroom attendant he 
 opened the case and read the inscription: 
 
 "Madeline Raymond to Charles Fitzmorris 
 Who did his little bit." 
 
 "By George," he said to himself, "we're getting on!" 
 
 At supper he recollected that they knew the Kellys, and 
 asked Mr. Raymond if he had met Viola or her mother. 
 
 "Louisa Kelly the Mrs. Kelly!" said Mr. Raymond. 
 "Sure thing, and Mike too he's my attorney. Yes I've 
 met Mrs. Mike Mike brought her out from England." 
 
 "I've just heard she's got a baby." 
 
 "Mrs. Kelly a grandmother!" said Madeline. "Doesn't 
 time fly ?" 
 
 "I was best man at the wedding What shall I send as 
 a present ?" 
 
 "Bring it yourself," said Miss Raymond, "that's the kind 
 of present she would like." "Is this an invitation?" flashed 
 through Charles's mind. "She'll be glad to see some one 
 from England. She'll be lonesome but of course she will 
 get over that now." 
 
 "It was Kelly himself that was my friend. Viola's 
 brother and he were at Oxford same time as I was. I 
 helped to bring them together made the match, in fact." 
 
 "Well I never !" 
 
 They all laughed so heartily that the people sitting near 
 began to stare.
 
 DRUMS AFAR 177 
 
 "Don't you think you were taking a chance?" said 
 Madeline. "Marrying an English girl to an American 
 like mixing blue blood with red?" 
 
 "It's been done the other way round see some of our 
 recent peeresses." 
 
 "With what success?" 
 
 "Practice for such as Mrs. Kelly, Senior, I'm afraid." 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Raymond, "the Kellys haven't far to 
 go if they want a divorce."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 NEXT morning Charles called for the Raymonds 
 at ten-thirty. Madeline came down alone. 
 "You see I'm in lots of time," he said, "per- 
 haps too soon." 
 
 "Not a bit Mother doesn't feel up to the mark and 
 Father is not much of a church-goer, so I'm the whole 
 party. Where did you think of going? We went to early 
 Mass at Westminster Cathedral this morning." 
 
 Charles flushed. He had not realized that she might be 
 a Catholic. 
 
 "I had intended St. Margaret's, Westminster," he said, 
 "because of a window I wanted to show you, and the 
 music, but if you would prefer " 
 
 "Do let's go to St. Margaret's," she said. "That's where 
 they have Society weddings, isn't it? Father is a Catholic, 
 but Mother and I are Protestant Episcopalians. They are 
 leaving us to go where we like alone, but you are to come 
 back to lunch and help us to make plans for the week 
 before we go to Paris. We promised to be there for the 
 Fourth of July there's to be a procession to the grave of 
 Lafayette." 
 
 It was a pleasant morning, so they walked to Westmin- 
 ster by way of St. James's Palace and the Mall, Madeline 
 hoping against hope that she might see a Royal carriage 
 sweeping past. 
 
 "You should see Washington!" she said. "It's just as 
 fine as this." 
 
 When the service commenced, they shared a combined 
 prayer and hymn book handed them from a neighbouring 
 pew. It was pleasant to touch her arm and ungloved hand. 
 
 It was only now when he was standing beside her as she 
 sang that he realized the wonderful resonance of her voice. 
 
 178
 
 DRUMS AFAR 179 
 
 At the hymn "For thee, O dear, dear country," he joined 
 in with his recently developed baritone, and found it blended 
 well. 
 
 "Your singing has improved," she said, as they sat down. 
 
 "We've both learned something," he replied. 
 
 At lunch Charles asked the Raymonds what they had seen, 
 suggested other places likely to interest them, and then 
 said, 
 
 "Why not Henley?" 
 
 "What is Henley ?" they asked. 
 
 "English summer in a nutshell sport, pretty girls, trees, 
 river boatraces, two days of rain to two of sunshine " 
 
 "The sunshine days for mine," laughed Madeline. 
 
 "Lots of Americans there this year Boston and Harvard 
 have each an Eight." 
 
 "Then we must go to cheer what else?" 
 
 Charles visualized for them the charms of the regatta, 
 told them of the houseboats, the gondolas, the punts, boats 
 and canoes, the Pierrots "often quite good singers" he 
 said, "actresses who mask their faces " 
 
 "That's the stunt !" cried Madeline. "Let's go as trouba- 
 dours perhaps we could break even on expenses." 
 
 Charles fought shy of the suggestion, but Miss Raymond 
 would not be denied. 
 
 "You've got a nice voice," she said, "we could sing dandy 
 duets. Where can we hire costumes?" 
 
 "Clarkson's, I suppose." 
 
 "Take me there to-morrow. I've an idea we two will 
 take a canoe, and go as Canadian pioneers, time of 
 Richelieu and Louis Quatorze, sing the old French songs 
 that my great-grandfather used to sing and taught them to 
 an aunt of mine ; I could soon teach you. You know our 
 family came to Chicago a century or so ago, arrived in a 
 bateau, lived in a logcabin and birchbark canoe. We came 
 from Montreal." 
 
 "I understand," said Charles. "What you call Illinois 
 was once Canadian, that was in the days of the Hundred 
 Associates and Nouvelle France when Canada stretched
 
 180 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 down to the Mississippi and even after it became Ameri- 
 can, the fur-trading was done by the French." 
 
 "You know that you an Englishman! Hardly any one 
 knows it in Chicago. Ah, but I remember you were a top 
 notcher on history at Strasburg." 
 
 "Louis XIV was in my period at Oxford I have some 
 of the old French songs too they are illustrated in a 
 book I have." 
 
 "Isn't that lovely ! We'll try them over after lunch." 
 
 Charles slipped off to his rooms to fetch the book, and the 
 more he thought of the plan, the more it grew upon him. 
 
 "Tell you what," he said when he came back, "I can 
 dress up like this print of Champlain, and you can be like 
 Isabeau in 'Isabeau s'y promene' with the fawn cap and 
 loose green gown I wish we could get birchbark canoe, but 
 I suppose a canader will do only that's too small for a 
 piano." 
 
 "I can play a guitar," said Madeline. 
 
 All the afternoon they practised and found they could 
 make a repertoire of ten or so duets. 
 
 "Where do we come in?" asked Mr. and Mrs. Raymond. 
 
 "Somewhere at a safe distance," said Madeline. 
 
 "I'll fix that," said Charles. "I can get tickets for an 
 enclosure, and you can have your lunch and see the races 
 in comfort from the bank. When we have made all the 
 money we want, we'll change back to civilized clothes and 
 pick you up before anybody is the wiser." 
 
 Clarkson had just what they wanted. 
 
 Madeline Raymond looked born to the part. She might 
 have been one of those fair dames of France whose grace 
 and loveliness inspired Villon to a villanelle and the soldier 
 to brave adventure. Somehow Charles had thought of 
 American girls as creatures of to-day butterflies ephem- 
 eral but here was one whose blood went back perhaps to 
 the seigneurs of the Compagnie des Indes, the pioneers 
 who fought for the new world found by Cartier and Cham- 
 plain and Maisonneuve.
 
 DRUMS AFAR 181 
 
 "Then you must have old families even in Chicago," he 
 said as he watched her sewing a hem. 
 
 "Sure," she said, "there are three degrees of aristocracy 
 with us, first the pioneers, then those not pioneers who 
 came before the Fire, and then those who came between 
 the Fire and the World's Fair after that the Deluge. I 
 must send you seme books about the early days they are 
 issued every Christmas by one of Father's rivals. I wish 
 he would do something the same himself. What sort of 
 a great-grandfather did you have ?" 
 
 "Honestly," said Charles, "I don't know. I suppose Fitz- 
 morris is a corruption of Fitzmaurice, and that sounds 
 Norman so perhaps nine hundred years ago we were first 
 cousins." 
 
 "Quit it!" she said. "You make me giddy." 
 
 Between Sunday and the first day of Henley, which 
 was Wednesday, they spent half their time together over the 
 piano, while the elder Raymonds went sightseeing. Music 
 is a wonderful harmonizer. 
 
 On Wednesday a blue sky and the prospect of good 
 racing filled the trains from Paddington. The Raymonds, 
 however, chose to motor. Owing to the number of cars 
 on the same errand, they saw more dust than greenery, 
 but this method of travel gave them liberty to leave when 
 they wished to. 
 
 By the time Charles had deposited the elder Raymonds 
 at the enclosure and rejoined Madeline at the hotel where 
 she had gone to change, the river was gay with watercraft 
 and summery dresses. It was a blazing day and Madeline's 
 old-fashioned cap gave little shade. A pedlar of Jap para- 
 sols came to the rescue, and though this might seem in- 
 congruous with her court-lady costume, Henley was not 
 hypercritical. 
 
 "If I had only known your climate," she said, "I should 
 have dressed bergere." 
 
 The American flag flaunted its stars and stripes from 
 boat and buttonhole, German voices jarred with honey 'd
 
 182 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 French and even occasional Italian so much so that Made- 
 line asked maliciously, where the English were. 
 
 "You'll see them at the winning-post," bragged Charles, 
 at which, 
 
 "Touch wood," she said. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I'm superstitious things mayn't turn out as you wish." 
 
 "Well, even if we do lose, you'll find us sportsmen. But 
 I'll back Leander against the world." 
 
 As they paddled slowly towards Fawley, Madeline 
 hummed over the tune of "Dans les Prisons de Nantes," 
 to the rhythm of his stroke. 
 
 "That's the way it should be sung," she said. "Can't you 
 picture the old voyageurs forging up some river deep in 
 the bush, filling the forest with their songs of their be- 
 loved France, rough fellows but truehearted, and so full of 
 music." 
 
 "Dans les prisons de Nantes, 
 Dans les prisons de Nantes 
 Lui ya-t-un prisonnier, faluron dondaine, 
 Lui ya-t-un prisonnier, faluron donde." 
 
 "Begin," he said. 
 
 As she softly tuned her guitar, the curious already began 
 to follow attracted by the costumes. 
 
 He let her sing the first verse alone, then at the second 
 joined in. 
 
 "Que personn' ne va voire 
 Que personn' ne va voire 
 Que la fille du geolier, faluron dondaine, 
 Que la fille du geolier, faluron donde." 
 
 By the time they had reached the last verse, they had a 
 crowd around them, and Charles thought it wise to paddle 
 slowly to the nearest house-boat. His voice had trembled 
 at first with nervousness but gradually he had taken courage, 
 and the two voices merged in rich harmony.
 
 DRUMS AFAR 183 
 
 "Bravo, bravo !" came from the audience, and the people 
 behind the blaze of flowers on the houseboat clapped their 
 hands. 
 
 "Shall we collect now?" whispered Madeline. 
 
 "No, give them another. I haven't got the bag ready." 
 
 She struck the chords of some music he did not know, 
 while he set up the fishing rod at the end of which was 
 the velvet pouch which she had made for the purpose. 
 Then when he gave the signal, burst with a fine swing into, 
 
 Mariann' s'en va-t-au moulin, 
 
 Mariann' s'en va-t-au moulin, 
 
 C'est pour y fair' moudre son grain, 
 
 Cest pour y fair' moudre son grain ; 
 
 A cheval sur son ane, Ma p'tit, Mamzell' Marianne, 
 
 A cheval sur son ane Catin, 
 
 S'en allant au moulin. 
 
 Those who understood the French smiled at the quaint- 
 ness of the words, while the music was of that simple 
 charm which hits the heart. At the end of the song the 
 fishing rod went round and up to the listeners on the house- 
 boat. 
 
 "A three-pounder, or I'm jiggered," said Charles, watch- 
 ing the point bend. "This is a good pool." 
 
 Snatches of conversation reached their ears. 
 
 "Are they real French? " 
 
 "No, just actors, I think- 
 
 "I heard these songs once when I was fishing in Quebec ; 
 the guides sang them " 
 
 "Did you go to that 'No Patronage' concert last week 
 rather sporting of the girl, whoever she was " 
 
 "W under schbn " 
 
 "What gets my goat is that " 
 
 "Look at that red-headed girl ; do you think she dyes " 
 
 "I don't care who wins the Grand, so long as it's not 
 those Germans " 
 
 There were quite a number of straw hats with House
 
 184 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 colours, and Charles trembled lest he should be recognized, 
 but the disguise was good, and by the time they had sung 
 before one or two other house-boats he felt an old hand 
 at the game. Only when the heats for the Ladies' Plate 
 were rowed did he almost betray himself, for as the Christ 
 Church boat swept past ahead of Univ, his sudden yell of 
 "Well rowed, House!" so startled as to nearly upset the 
 occupants of a neighbouring canoe. 
 
 "Over two lengths ahead at the finish!" he shouted to 
 Madeline, "and Univ was head of the River ! Well rowed, 
 House !" 
 
 "Keep cool, House," remonstrated the neighbour who 
 wore Leander colours, and Charles, recollecting his mas- 
 querade, blushed and paddled away. 
 
 "What do 'House' and 'Univ' mean?" asked Madeline. 
 
 "Two colleges at Oxford ; sorry for getting so excited, but 
 I was at the House myself." 
 
 "Excited?" she smiled. "You wait till you see Yale and 
 Harvard. Why didn't you pass the word? I would have 
 lent a yell." 
 
 Between the races they proceeded leisurely till they had 
 done most of the line, and then returned to the finishing 
 post. 
 
 "Shall we reverse ?" asked Madeline. 
 
 "No, don't let's be hogs. Let the others have a chance. 
 We can come again to-morrow I want to see the House 
 row again, and there will be a big crowd to see the first 
 heats for the Grand. Boston and Harvard and Winnipeg 
 and the Germans all rowing. And Leander wait till you 
 see Leander!" 
 
 They went back to the hotel to change, counted up their 
 booty, which amounted to over twenty pounds, and went 
 to join the elder Raymonds. 
 
 "Father, we had a peach of a time," said Madeline, "and 
 just think, a hundred dollars!" 
 
 "Good business," said Mr. Raymond, "Madeline, my 
 dear, we'll have to take you into the firm."
 
 DRUMS AFAR 185 
 
 "You wouldn't pay the salary," laughed Madeline. "I've 
 got ambitions." 
 
 "What do you say, Mr. Fitzmorris. What's she worth?" 
 
 "Weight in gold," he answered, smiling. 
 
 "Now if I were mother," she said, putting her arm 
 round the latter, "that might be worth something, but I'm 
 a regular fairy got any scales handy?" 
 
 "We'll find them at any station," said Charles. "I'd put 
 you down as nine stone two." 
 
 "Say it in pounds. This is worse than Centigrade and 
 Fahrenheit." 
 
 "Counting twenty to the stone," he said, pencilling it 
 out, "that would make you a hundred and eighty-two 
 pounds." 
 
 "Oh, you wretch !" 
 
 "But as there are only fourteen pounds to the stone, 
 the correct weight is one hundred and twenty-eight." 
 
 "Good gracious, how you frightened me ! anyway, you 
 are ten pounds too high whatever made you play such a 
 joke?" 
 
 "Wanted to see if you really cared " 
 
 "Care! when I spend half my time on diets! It's evi- 
 dent you don't know much about American women. Why, 
 we think more of our personal appearance than a saint does 
 of his immortal soul it's the whole caboodle with us. My, 
 I'm so scared of putting on flesh, I never eat potatoes, al- 
 though I just love hashed brown." 
 
 "That porterhouse steak waiting for me at the hotel kind 
 of smells good," said her father, pulling out his watch. 
 "Let's get a move on." 
 
 And so, scorning the speed limit, they hurried back to 
 London.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 CHARLES had tickets for the Alhambra that eve- 
 ning, and during an acrobatic turn he came back 
 to the point. 
 
 "Are American women more vain than Eng- 
 lish?" he asked. 
 
 "They are more particular," she corrected. "The effect, 
 I suppose, of the Declaration of Independence. You see, 
 that made our great-great-grandmothers look to Paris in- 
 stead of London for our modes, and we keep up the habit. 
 Fourth of July is just an excuse for me I'm going to col- 
 lect new frocks." 
 
 "Are our women then so badly dressed ?" 
 
 "Some of them do seem to have crossed the Channel" 
 she admitted. "Perhaps they are not quite so crude as the 
 Germans their figures are fair, and their complexions just 
 great but, my goodness, I don't wonder that your young- 
 men are emigrating. The girls could hold them at home 
 if they dolled up more." 
 
 "You forget that economic circumstance " 
 
 "Don't talk Encyclopaedia Britannica to me. Give me a 
 nice gown, and I'll hold Moses on a little piece of string. 
 Your women are crazy about the vote. What most of 
 them need is a full-length mirror." 
 
 "Perhaps we have more heart." 
 
 "You can't tell till you try," she said, looking him full 
 in the face. 
 
 A shout of laughter at some antic on the stage distracted 
 them, but all the rest of the evening Charles wondered if 
 this was a challenge. 
 
 Was she merely playing with him, or had she something 
 more than a liking for him? She was certainly less stand- 
 offish than she had been at Strasburg, yet even there she had 
 
 186
 
 DRUMS AFAR 187 
 
 led him on it is true, only to let him down. Still she 
 seemed more human now than she had been in the old days 
 perhaps it was because she had lost her prejudices against 
 England, and as an Englishman he gained by the change of 
 spirit. Gratitude of course for the help he had given to 
 her concert might account for something. At Strasburg he 
 had merely passed the time with cakes and pastries. Here 
 he had fed her appetite for praise, and though she was not 
 unduly conceited she was woman enough to welcome ap- 
 preciation. 
 
 By George, she was a lovely girl ! Every opera glass 
 that swept the stalls rested on her for a while and came 
 back to her again. She certainly looked stunning there 
 was not a handsomer face in the house. The mother might 
 be thought plebeian, but Madeline, the daughter, was of a 
 finer generation. She was an artist was spirituelle with 
 more than a mere mouth for the good things of this world. 
 Her accent, too, was not so nasal as her mother's due no 
 doubt to her training as a singer. Certainly she used more 
 slang, but Charles was used to the vernacular which Kelly 
 had already made familiar. 
 
 How beautiful her voice was! Perhaps she was right 
 in thinking she would never be a great singer. The volume 
 was not there, but could there ever be more perfect quality, 
 more delicate art, more lovely timbre, more passionate sin- 
 cerity? She carried an echo of her singing voice in the 
 voice with which she spoke he seemed to hear the croon 
 in her whisper. 
 
 How exquisitely poised her head was, and her neck how 
 graceful ! The coils of her dark hair were piled up in a 
 curve which flowed down over her neck and shoulders to 
 her deep rounded warm-skinned bosom. In that were set 
 red roses he had given her. 
 
 Her eyes were surely not mere will-o'-the-wisps. She 
 laughed at him in them perhaps a little, but it was a friendly 
 laugh that lingered and did not run away; it seemed to 
 say "Be pals." 
 
 The hands, he saw, were manicured. She used them
 
 i88 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 quite a little as she talked perhaps the heritage of French 
 descent. Once or twice her left hand touched his right 
 during the evening, and at the touch the young blood surged 
 through him till he knew that now, if only she wished, she 
 had him at her mercy. 
 
 Where were the traces of the Indian blood that she hinted 
 at when she said "Coureur de bois." As yet unbetrayed, 
 except perhaps in the intensity with which she sang those 
 Canadian songs at her concert. The hair was not the 
 straight black of the Iroquois or Huron. Was there not 
 however a darker tone to the skin than would be found in 
 Northern Europe ? 
 
 Next day it was fine again, and Charles called in high 
 hopes at the hotel. He was dismayed to find the elder Ray- 
 monds plastered with American flags. What made it worse 
 was that they chose to go by train, from memory of dusty 
 roads the day before. Fortunately the four of them filled 
 a compartment, and Charles did not meet any one he knew 
 to smile at his embarrassment. 
 
 Still, one couldn't blame them for being patriotic. How- 
 ever he was glad that Madeline was less flamboyant. 
 
 There must have been many who were on the river the 
 day before, for as Charles and Madeline paddled down, they 
 heard 
 
 "There's that girl with the black hair." 
 
 "Let's hear them sing again," and 
 
 "Well rowed, House !" this last being a stage whisper 
 from the Leander man they had so nearly upset. 
 
 The river was even more crowded than the day before, 
 and the crowd more excited. Along the houseboats how- 
 ever there was room to move, for most of the craft kept 
 close to the boom. 
 
 "It's the Grand Challenge that has drawn them," said 
 Charles, who was keyed up himself. "Leander meets Har- 
 vard in the third heat." 
 
 They were in the middle of singing when suddenly their 
 audience drifted away, and "Winnipeg is leading!" passed 
 along the line.
 
 DRUMS AFAR 189 
 
 A roar of cheers went up as the Canadian crew finished 
 ahead, and then Charles realized that he was nervous with 
 excitement. Madeline was quick to see his anxiety. 
 
 "Never mind the singing," she said good-naturedly. "Let's 
 keep close to the boom. I want to see the Americans my- 
 self. When do they come on?" 
 
 "Boston next against London. They should easily win 
 in spite of their Panama hats poor old London ! But wait 
 till you see Leander!" 
 
 Madeline said nothing but shook her finger at him laugh- 
 ingly, and touched wood on the side of the canoe. 
 
 As Charles had prophesied, Boston with their red-topped 
 oars walked away from London, and the air was thick 
 with the Stars and Stripes. 
 
 "Now Leander!" 
 
 He was edging up closer to the boom when a strange 
 succession of noises rose from a group of boats beside them. 
 
 "Good heavens!" he exclaimed. "A lunatic asylum has 
 got loose." 
 
 Madeline laughed gaily. 
 
 "It's just the Harvard yell," she said. 
 
 They could not see the beginning of the race, as the 
 river curved, and the starting-post was round the corner. 
 Charles smoked furious, impatient cigarettes. 
 
 "Just watch their rhythm as they pass," he said to Made- 
 line. "They have the perfection of style. They are all 
 old Blues " 
 
 "Blues?" 
 
 "Yes rowed either for Oxford or Cambridge here they 
 come !" 
 
 The roar of cheers approached. It was difficult to see 
 who was ahead at the corner on account of the crowd, but 
 "Leander's leading!" shouted some one standing in a punt. 
 
 "Of course," shouted Charles. 
 
 "Here they are Harvard's catching up ! Ra Ra Ra !" 
 and the yell recommenced. 
 
 Madeline heard Charles exclaim, his face all pale, as the 
 boats flashed past. Yes, Harvard was drawing ahead.
 
 190 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 Another wild yell, and the Stars and Stripes waving furi- 
 ously. 
 
 "Well, on my soul! Leander beaten! who could have 
 thought it possible !" 
 
 One could pick out the long-drawn English faces. 
 
 "I'm so sorry," said Madeline. "Shall we go back to 
 the hotel?" 
 
 "Not yet. Forgive me for my rudeness, those American 
 fellows deserved to win they rowed magnificently but 
 do you mind our staying here a bit? There's another heat 
 still, the Germans against Jesus Jesus College, I mean," 
 he added, seeing her puzzled look "let's hope they keep 
 our end up it would be deadly if they too got licked." 
 
 If cheering could have done it, Jesus would have won, 
 for every Englishman on the course shouted himself hoarse 
 for the Cambridge men. But fate was inexorable, and 
 though it was the closest race of all the German crew drew 
 ahead at the last, and won by three quarters of a length. 
 
 Charles backed in silence out of the crowd and paddled 
 towards the boat-house. Madeline was too sympathetic not 
 to understand. 
 
 "I don't want to sing any more," she said, "this shouting 
 has given me a headache. Let's go back and change." 
 
 "You're a brick," said Charles. 
 
 They walked from the landing-stage to the hotel. 
 
 "It wouldn't have been so rotten if we had not lost all 
 four heats," he groaned. "Just think of it four foreign 
 crews in the Semi-Finals." 
 
 "Surely not !" cried Madeline. "You don't count the Ca- 
 nadians as foreigners, do you?" 
 
 "Theoretically not ; but well, they're not English." 
 
 "How insular you are," she said. "You don't deserve to 
 belong to an Empire. I don't wonder that Canadians get 
 mad why, they have saved the day for you, if you only 
 look at it the right way." 
 
 "Do they get mad ?" 
 
 "Do they? You know you sometimes make even me
 
 DRUMS AFAR 191 
 
 mad. I thought you said that the English were good sports- 
 men." 
 
 "That was before I knew we were going to get licked," 
 he said grimly. "And this is such an absolute knock-out. I 
 don't know what is coming over England. She's taking 
 such a backseat in everything. Look at the Olympian 
 Games, and golf, and tennis and then in politics, look at 
 this Irish mess by George, I think I'll emigrate." 
 
 "Why not?" she said quickly. 
 
 "Why not," he echoed gloomily. 
 
 They were at the hotel by this time, and parted to 
 change their costumes. 
 
 "Father will be crazy," said Madeline when they met 
 again. "We must hurry back and cool him down." 
 
 As they returned, there was one rift in the clouds, for 
 Christ Church raced in ahead of a Cambridge crew just 
 as they approached the winning post. Charles wore his 
 House colours and cheered like a maniac. 
 
 "Still," he said when he had quieted down, "I don't care 
 if it rains all the rest of the week. This is the last Henley 
 for me. I believe it's all due to our allowing motorboats 
 upon the course." 
 
 As they drove from Paddington to the Carlton, Charles, 
 who had manoeuvred into the taxi with Madeline, realized 
 that this might be the last time they would be alone, and 
 suddenly plucked up courage to test her was she just hav- 
 ing a good time, or was there something more? She had 
 been decent about the races. She had sympathized with 
 him when her own people had won yes, a decent thing to 
 do. 
 
 "Am I going to see you again?" he asked. 
 
 "That depends on you," she answered, looking at him 
 out of her dark eyes from her corner of the taxi with a 
 queer little smile. 
 
 "What !" he ejaculated. Then blushed as he realized how 
 rude this sounded. "Excuse me, I didn't realize did your 
 mother suggest " 
 
 "Why should mother butt in?" she replied. "We sail
 
 192 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 from Cherbourg on the St. Louis in ten days' time. You'll 
 find the States pretty hot in summer, but the Atlantic's cool. 
 She's an old boat, but St. Louis is our patron saint, and 
 the captain's an old friend of the family. Shall I send 
 you a printed invitation, or can you take a hint?"
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 LYING in bed that night, Charles realized that he 
 was very nearly in love, and that so far as he could 
 judge, Madeline liked him. That might however 
 be for her just a flirtation, and she might have a 
 dozen other beaux in the United States, in addition to those 
 she could have picked up while she was studying music in 
 Rome and Milan. The Raymonds seemed to be well off, and 
 he himself was certainly no catch, so that if it came to facing 
 the old man with a request for the hand of his daughter 
 he might have to sing small. There was this about it, 
 however, namely that Madeline was independent she had 
 said she wouldn't have her mother "butt in." But she would 
 be an expensive girl to marry, if what she said about dress 
 was true, and she certainly seemed to wear a different gown 
 every time he had met her. It would be just as well to stand 
 in with the father, if she really meant to have him. Made- 
 line was undoubtedly "come-hithering," so "nothing venture, 
 nothing have" he concluded. 
 
 Before taking his passage, he must have a talk with his 
 father, just to see how the wind blew. 
 
 "Be at home to-night, father ?" he telephoned next morn- 
 ing after he had seen the Raymonds off from Charing 
 Cross. 
 
 "Yes, glad to see you. Wanted to have a talk with you 
 myself." 
 
 The rest of the family had gone out for the evening, 
 somewhat to the relief of Charles, as he wished to see his 
 father alone. When they had reached the coffee and cigars, 
 Mr. Fitzmorris raised the question, 
 
 "Want more money?" 
 
 "No, father, not just at present." 
 
 "Glad to hear it. Market's absolutely putrid. Look at
 
 194 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 Kaffirs and Rubbers and American Rails, not to mention 
 Consols. Something's in the wind well, what is it? I 
 don't suppose you came here to talk about the weather." 
 
 "No, I came to say I thought of going to America." 
 
 "What's the trouble ? Been playing the silly goat ?" 
 
 "No, just for a trip. You remember Kelly, my Oxford 
 friend ; I thought I might visit him and at the same time see 
 something of their newspapers and methods perhaps do 
 some business for Pen and Pencil." 
 
 "From what I hear, it needs it. Can you pay your pass- 
 age?" 
 
 "Yes, but I might be the better of a letter of credit, in 
 case of accidents." 
 
 "Two hundred?" 
 
 "Thanks awfully." 
 
 "That's all right, my boy. Don't cash it if you can help 
 one never can tell what's going to happen here. I don't 
 want to frighten your mother, but we've got to go slow for 
 a bit. Tell you what, my boy, if you see a chance of get- 
 ting into business on the other side, take it this country's 
 played out." 
 
 Charles had never known his father so pessimistic before. 
 He had his ups and downs, but this was down with a ven- 
 geance. 
 
 "I'll remember," he said, "but I'm afraid there's not 
 much chance of any American wanting an Englishman. 
 They think we are behind the times." 
 
 "They're just about right. But they themselves go too 
 fast sometimes, and the wise ones know it. However, what 
 I want to tell you is, that I wouldn't ask you to come into 
 the firm as things are at present. I am an old stager, and 
 can look ahead to the time when the storm has passed, 
 but it takes an old man's nerve to live on the edge of a 
 volcano. Besides, we've too many eggs in one basket as it 
 is. Take this trip to the States, and if you see good pros- 
 pects there hold on to them and think you are lucky." 
 
 "What about Pen and Pencil?" 
 
 "Hopeless! There's no market in the shares, not even
 
 DRUMS AFAR 195 
 
 in the bucket-shops. I gave you the money because you 
 asked for it and it kept you out of mischief, but that's 
 written off the books. Too many weekly illustrateds on 
 the bookstalls. Give it a year to go under. No, my boy, 
 it's time to strike out a new line. If I can help you I'll 
 do it, but if you can manage by yourself you'll help your 
 old Dad." 
 
 "Oxford's a poor place to get a business education," said 
 Charles, "but I'm not so green as I was when I went down. 
 One gets a lot of experience in Fleet Street." 
 
 "I suppose one does. Thanks, by the way, for those tick- 
 ets. We enjoyed the concert, all of us. So did you too 
 judging by the way you clapped the singer. Why didn't 
 you come and speak to us? I tried to get hold of you at 
 the end, but you went out by a private door. By the way, 
 that singer came from Chicago as well as your friend Kelly. 
 Does that 'No Patronage' mean 'No Chaperons'?" 
 
 He laughed heartily as Charles coloured. 
 
 "You can't fool the old man he's been there before. She 
 was an amateur, of course, but carried it off well. Who 
 put up the money ?" 
 
 "Her father." 
 
 "Good for him! I should like to meet the old sport. 
 Are they still in London? If so, why not ask them out 
 to dinner here ?" 
 
 "Too late, I am afraid. They are in Paris now, and I 
 don't expect to see them again till the steamer." 
 
 "Give them my compliments when you do. Now as to 
 yourself I'll be frank and tell you how you stand. I have 
 laid aside five hundred pounds a year for you the next two 
 years, and nobody but you shall touch it. But after all, it's 
 all a toss up whether there's anything left in the bank. 
 Things may improve, but " 
 
 "All right, father, I understand. If I see a chance on 
 the other side, I'll stay there, for a while at any rate. 
 You've been awfully good to me, and I haven't shown my 
 appreciation as I ought. If you want me to draw less "
 
 196 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "No, no. This is some old family money that would come 
 to you anyway." 
 
 "Talking of family, by the way," said Charles, "some one 
 asked me the other day about great-grandfathers who 
 was the first Fitzmorris that we know about? Had we 
 anybody in the Ark ?" 
 
 "Not quite so far back as that some pirate or sheep- 
 stealer, I believe. Your mother paid a fellow once to work 
 out a pedigree at the time we started a crest. Most of it 
 bunkum, but there did seem to be one genuine ancestor 
 Hugh Fitzmorris, a soldier of fortune, who fought under 
 Gustavus Adolphus. Candidly, I've no use just now for 
 Norman ancestors. Wish mine were German Jews; I'd 
 have a chance then of knowing why Berlin has been un- 
 loading so heavily these sheenies are damned close now- 
 adays." 
 
 Soldier of Fortune! Charles smiled at the thought. 
 That was just about his case now his sword was a thou- 
 sand pounds, and the field of battle Chicago. A thousand 
 pounds? There were still his shares in Pen and Pencil. 
 These his father said were worthless, and he ought to know, 
 but Roberts, the rival director, might be bluffed into buying 
 some. It was worth trying, anyway. There was to be a 
 Board meeting next Friday. Something might be done. 
 
 In the meanwhile he went to Cook's and secured a cabin 
 on the St. Louis. He felt it also his duty to say good-bye 
 to his mother and sisters, as it might be years before he 
 returned, but did not hint to them that this was anything 
 but a holiday trip. 
 
 "If you pick up an heiress," said his sister Clara, "get 
 one with as little twang as possible. They say the Southern- 
 ers speak with the least accent." 
 
 Roberts was the only other director to attend the Board 
 Meeting, so that Charles had the opportunity he wanted. 
 
 "Here is the situation," he said. "You and I are the 
 only two members of the Board who count, and we disagree 
 on policy. Your ideas are no doubt sound, but I prefer 
 mine, and between us we are producing a paper which is
 
 DRUMS AFAR 197 
 
 neither flesh, fowl, nor good red herring. Can't we come 
 to some arrangement by which either I buy out your shares 
 or you buy mine ?" 
 
 The flicker of excitement in Roberts' eyes told Charles 
 that he had a rise. 
 
 "You hold too much," said the latter. "I wouldn't raise 
 the money to buy you out, and I don't care to sell." 
 
 "This means more to you, perhaps, than to me," said 
 Charles. "I look at it more as a hobby than a means of 
 livelihood. Perhaps that is why I do things you think un- 
 business-like, and spoil the chances of the paper's earning 
 dividends. Money doesn't mean much to me, so if it would 
 help I could let you in on easy terms. Five hundred ten 
 pound shares would give you control, and leave me as 
 much interest in the paper as I want, for I really am fond 
 of the old rag and don't want to sell outright. Now, you 
 can have these for ten per cent cash and the rest at your 
 convenience payable, say, out of future dividends." 
 
 "That's five hundred pounds down?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Give me till to-morrow." 
 
 Next day Roberts telephoned. 
 
 "Sorry, I can't raise more than four hundred pounds." 
 
 Charles hesitated. 
 
 Should he accept ? 
 
 "It's a bluff," he decided, and then answered. "Sorry 
 myself well, we must call it off. I'm going to America 
 next week, and will see what you think of it when I come 
 back." 
 
 "How long do you expect to be away?" 
 
 "Couple of months. Hope to get some new ideas for 
 the paper." 
 
 Sure enough, next morning he received a letter from 
 Roberts agreeing to his terms. 
 
 "That's one on Father," chuckled Charles, and telephoned 
 the news of his deal. 
 
 "Go ahead, my boy," came the answer. "You may find 
 room in Chicago yet."
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE special boat-train for Southampton was due 
 to leave at nine-thirty, but Charles was there at 
 nine as he wished to escape the possibility of meet- 
 ing the elder Raymonds before he and they were 
 safely on board the steamer. They might have changed 
 their plans and decided to catch the boat at Southampton 
 instead of Cherbourg. Half concealed behind a window- 
 blind, he watched the stream of porters and passengers and 
 eventually settled down into something like calm. So far 
 they had not shown up. With a waving of handkerchiefs 
 the train steamed out, and the green fields and hedges of 
 England slipped past at fifty miles an hour. 
 
 At the end of their journey, a row of stewards in trim 
 white jackets devoured the small packages, suitcases, um- 
 brellas and the like which otherwise might have been lost 
 to the world of tips, and so at last the vessel which was to 
 be their home for a week or so received its heterogeneous 
 family. 
 
 The allotted cabin, the library, the lounge, the smoking 
 room, the dining-saloon, the purser's office all in turn were 
 discovered and investigated. A telegram was claimed and 
 proved to be "Good Luck" from his father; then came 
 the order, "All visitors on shore!" The gangway was 
 lifted, and with one last cheer the liner sheered off and 
 swung into the stream. 
 
 Then began the deck-parade. Still no sign of the Ray- 
 monds. 
 
 Slowly the wharf faded into the distance, and then 
 Charles made his way to the library, where seats for dinner 
 were to be allotted. 
 
 Quite a number of passengers were standing in queue, 
 for the saloon list was heavy, and those who wished to 
 
 198
 
 DRUMS AFAR 199 
 
 choose their sitting had better choose now. A little old 
 fellow inadvertently stepped in ahead of Charles, then apol- 
 ogized. 
 
 "No harm done," said the latter. "You won't get any- 
 thing more to eat." 
 
 Those who heard it laughed, among whom was Mr. Ray- 
 mond himself. 
 
 "Well, well Mr. Fitzmorris," clapping Charles on the 
 shoulder, "what wind blew you here? Are you alone? 
 Why then, join our table I was just looking for a fourth, 
 Madeline and Mrs. Raymond join the ship at Cherbourg 
 don't wish to face the customs officers twice over." 
 
 Needless to say, Charles was delighted, and joined the 
 American in a cigar on deck, more than satisfied with this 
 turn of fortune. 
 
 "Nice old boat," said Mr. Raymond, as they leaned over 
 the railing. "Crossed the Atlantic in her ten times. Not 
 so showy as the new high-steppers, but pretty sure of her 
 eighteen knots, and doesn't roll more than she ought to. 
 Chief Steward's an old friend, and keeps a special ice- 
 chest for me. In the big ships a fellow gets lost in the 
 crowd." 
 
 "Did you stay in Paris long?" 
 
 "No longer than I could help. I thought I'd done my 
 duty if I paid the bills, so after two days I left the girls 
 and slipped over to Mainz and Leipzig and Amsterdam and 
 Antwerp coming back by London to have a day with the 
 Caxtons at the British Museum. My, but it was a great 
 trip, no one to drag me to sights I did not want to see. 
 Let me tell you, Mr. Fitzmorris, to a printer like myself 
 Westminster is the place where William Caxton at the Sign 
 of the Red Pale brought out the first English books it is 
 not the place where English Kings are crowned. On this 
 trip I learned more about Gutenberg and the Elzevirs and 
 Plantin than I would in a thousand years in Chicago. And 
 the Graphic Arts Exhibition in Leipzig was a wonder." 
 
 "Any American exhibits ?" 
 
 Mr. Raymond's face darkened.
 
 200 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "Goddammit, no !" he growled. "We are slow as molasses 
 in January. I could have gotten up a booth myself that 
 would have made quite a hit, if I had only known in time. 
 But that's the trouble with us Americans. We have been 
 blowing too long without showing we have the goods. And 
 we have the goods. There's no finer printing done any- 
 where than in the United States to-day." 
 
 Charles smiled inwardly as he heard this confession, but 
 was too polite to make capital out of it. 
 
 "We see Scr'ibner's and the Century and Harper's" he 
 said, "but not much else." 
 
 "Well, my boy, you are going to see a whole lot more. 
 I can't tell you how glad I am you are coming across. 
 My trip has shown me what a false impression you have, 
 for instance, of Chicago. You think of us as The Jungle 
 of Upton Sinclair, living in an air of squealing pigs and 
 lousy Poles, rich and purse-proud, or squalid, dirty and il- 
 literate. I want you to see our homes, our work for good 
 citizenship, our efforts to make life beautiful, our parks 
 and care for the children. We are not just dollar-hunters 
 as so many of you folk in Europe seem to think. We may 
 have begun life in a shack, but we send our young archi- 
 tects now to train in Rome and Paris." 
 
 "And bring them back to build your sky-scrapers." 
 
 "Why not? Why should they build Greek temples or 
 Roman arches? Why not take the fine construction and 
 design and decoration of Greece and Rome and the Renais- 
 sance and adapt them to the building problems of our 
 business cities ? I know you think of sky-scrapers as mon- 
 strosities perhaps some of them are but when you come 
 to study them without prejudice you will find many of them 
 well-proportioned, well designed, and rich in beautiful de- 
 tail. The tall building is not necessarily ugly, though I 
 grant you it would be wiser to regulate the height accord- 
 ing to the width of the street and the light available. 
 Streets are like the margins of a book. You should not 
 crowd or dwarf them." 
 
 Hitherto Charles had thought of Mr. Raymond merely as
 
 DRUMS AFAR 201 
 
 an incubus on Madeline, but now he loomed up differently. 
 
 Mrs. Raymond and her daughter duly appeared at Cher- 
 bourg, only to disappear into their cabins. At dinner Made- 
 line came to table in dazzling green and gold. Mrs. Ray- 
 mond beamed on Charles, evidently satisfied at her hus- 
 band's choice of fourth. 
 
 "Hope you play bridge," she said. "We're auction fans." 
 
 "If the stakes are not too high," assented Charles. 
 
 "Quite right, my boy," said Mr. Raymond. "Gambling 
 is a bad habit, unless you deal the cards yourself." 
 
 Charles and Madeline started the game of guessing "who's 
 who" among the passengers. 
 
 The English were easy enough to distinguish from the 
 Americans, and on the whole kept together. One graceful, 
 piquant girl, who strode along the deck as if it were a 
 moor, was in marked contrast to the high-heeled New 
 Worldlings. A sporting parson made friends and romped 
 with the children, whose mothers reciprocated by attending 
 Divine Service on Sunday morning. 
 
 Not till he had cursed the bath-steward for being late 
 did Charles discover that the clock went back three quarters 
 of an hour each day on the west-bound voyage. 
 
 "They put one over on us this time," said Madeline, who 
 confessed to the same mistake as they met on deck. 
 
 "Lucky for me," he answered, "it gives me forty-five min- 
 utes a day more with you." 
 
 "Glad you didn't mention beauty sleep," she said. "If I 
 allowed myself more than seven hours in bed, I should grow 
 fat like mother. She is the laziest old thing I ever struck 
 hates to get up before lunch. Say, I'm glad you've come 
 along." 
 
 "So am I," he said, "so long as the sea is quiet. How 
 many times round the deck makes a mile?" 
 
 "Six times makes an appetite for breakfast," she replied. 
 "Come on !" 
 
 "I'm so excited," she said, after they had turned the 
 first corner, "my concert seems to have made a hit on the 
 other side. Mrs. Van Tromp, the society leader who gets
 
 202 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 up all those crazy stunts at Newport, has cabled me an 
 invitation to a Chinese dinner she is giving the Saturday of 
 the week we arrive at New York. She never asks any 
 one to Rockwood that's her Newport home outside the 
 Four Hundred except celebrities, so I must be one now. 
 Mother would give her little finger to be asked too. I am to 
 go on to the Oriental Ball at Carrara Cottage, Mrs. Schom- 
 berg's million dollar place she's another of the leaders. 
 Every one in Paris was talking about it it's to be the 
 big splurge of the season." 
 
 "Mrs. Schomberg?" said Charles, musing. "I remember 
 her. Suffragette and that sort of thing; mother of the 
 Duchess of Ramillies. I think I'll go myself." 
 
 "You!" she exclaimed, with such an expression of in- 
 credulity that he was put on his mettle. "I'll bet you a 
 hundred dollars you don't. The Duchess herself will be 
 there. It's the most exclusive " 
 
 At which he took out his notebook and jotted down the 
 date. 
 
 "Hundred dollars did you say ? That's too much. Make 
 it cigarettes." 
 
 "I like your nerve," she said and 'dropped the subject 
 as if his going were too remote from possibility to discuss. 
 
 Charles, however, thought to himself. 
 
 "If she fancies I'm to play second fiddle, she has made 
 the mistake of her life." 
 
 After breakfast he went to the wireless office, and offered 
 the operator a cigar. 
 
 "Ever hear of a place called Newport ?" he asked. "Some 
 sort of social centre in the United States." 
 
 "Newport, Rhode Island, you mean naval station you 
 bet I do." 
 
 "Ever hear about a Mrs. Schomberg there?" 
 
 "Ever hear of Barnum and Bailey ? She's the best para- 
 graphed woman in the United States." 
 
 "You mean she gets her name in the papers?" 
 
 "You can't keep her out, she has all the press agents 
 skinned."
 
 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "Well, take two messages for me reply prepaid." 
 To Mrs. Shomberg the cable read, 
 
 203 
 
 "Am visiting United States on mission to write and il- 
 lustrate typical American Society. Kindly make appoint- 
 ment interview Saturday July 23rd at Newport only date 
 available. You may remember our front page your last 
 visit to England. Charles Fitzmorris, 
 
 Director Pen and Pencil. 
 
 To Mrs. Van Tromp he sent a similar cable, omitting the 
 last paragraph referring to the portrait. 
 
 "Why prepaid?" said the wireless man, grinning as he 
 read the messages. "They'll send a special train to meet 
 you." 
 
 Deck quoits, shuffleboard and tennis with rings for balls 
 and hands for racquets and a string for a net helped to 
 pass the morning, while in the afternoon the passengers 
 from Queenstown, a snooze and a book under the eye of 
 Mrs. Raymond, bridged the interval to dinner. Charles 
 had fixed his deck-chair next that of the elder lady, and was 
 assiduous at just the right time. All the while he kept won- 
 dering whether his cable would draw blood. 
 
 He had not long to wait, for as they were dining in the 
 saloon that evening the replies were handed to him. With 
 a quiet chuckle he passed them on to Miss Raymond. 
 
 TDelighted to see you. Invitation to dinner meets your 
 steamer at New York. Bring Chinese Costume. 
 
 Elsie Van Tromp." 
 
 "You must come to my Oriental Ball. Can lend you 
 costume of Ming dynasty. House full but have arranged 
 with friends take care of you. Cable address New York." 
 
 Blanche Schomberg." 
 
 "I usually smoke Pall Mall, King's Size," he said, as he 
 saw her eyebrows lift. 
 
 "However did you do it!" she exclaimed. From her
 
 204 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 tone he could see that her respect for him had gone up 
 mightily. 
 
 "Easy enough when you have a friend," he replied. "The 
 only thing that troubles me is that I never learned your 
 American dances. I can waltz, of course, and struggle 
 through the Lancers, but this Fox Trot is beyond my in- 
 tellect." 
 
 "You have six days on board this steamer to reform," 
 she replied. "Father can whistle ragtime, and I could write 
 a book on the steps. You are just the height and build to 
 make quite a dancer, isn't he, mother ? Why, we are going 
 to have the time of our lives." 
 
 "Weather permitting," interjected Mr. Raymond. "If 
 this breeze doesn't die down, I can see you batty on Hesi- 
 tation." 
 
 "By the way," said Charles ingenuously, "is Newport on 
 the Atlantic or the Pacific?" 
 
 The question amused them so much that it was a minute 
 or so before any of the Raymonds could speak. 
 
 "In July and August," said Mr. Raymond, the first to 
 recover, "it is the whole world to quite a number of good 
 Americans. If they can't be paragraphed as seen on Bailey's 
 Beach in a two-piece bathing suit they would cry their 
 eyes out. Fact is, Mr. Fitzmorris, we Americans are the 
 worst kind of snobs, and if your name appears on Mrs. 
 Van Tromp's dinner list a million freeborn American citi- 
 zens will eat out of your hand. It's like this. She gives 
 the Society Editors something to talk about. We have no 
 Buckingham Palace with Drawing Rooms and Presenta- 
 tions, but we have Mrs. Van Tromp and her stunts at 
 Newport." 
 
 Madeline Raymond lost no time. That evening up on the 
 boat-deck she gave Charles his first lesson in the necessary 
 steps, her father whistling the music. With his arm around 
 Madeline's waist, and the touch of her bosom on his own 
 breast, Charles thrilled with a strange emotion. His sense 
 of rhythm made him quick to Larn, she herself stepped 
 as light as a feather, her hair brushed his cheek, its faint
 
 DRUMS AFAR 205 
 
 sweet perfume caressing his now enchanted senses. She 
 on her part was passionately fond of dancing and rejoiced 
 to find so apt a pupil. For the first time she realized how 
 muscular he was, and, as she looked up sometimes into his 
 face, how handsome. At first she guided him, then found 
 he had the instinct. 
 
 "Great!" she said. "We'll make a real dancer out of 
 you before you know where you are." 
 
 "I don't care where I am," he whispered, "so long as 
 you are there." 
 
 The moon was bright enough to show she was not of- 
 fended. 
 
 After such an evening it was impossible to sleep. As 
 he lay in his berth with eyes half closed, Charles felt his 
 heart throb with remembrance of her touch. He wondered 
 how he had been able to refrain from clasping her still 
 closer and passionately kissing her if only her father had 
 not been there, he must have done it. Some day, if luck 
 would have it, they would be alone. Once or twice, by 
 inadvertence, he had held her closer than was necessary, 
 but she did not seem to mind. He remembered how she 
 looked up into his eyes with a questioning look which seemed 
 to ask "Why did you do that?" 
 
 Dancing, after all, was not so effeminate as he had fan- 
 cied. At any rate it gave one opportunities which he would 
 be a fool to let slip. 
 
 How beautiful she was! That arching mouth was irre- 
 sistible and those ears, so delicately shaped and placed. 
 Her dark hair was silky, with so many coils piled up that 
 it must surely fall down to her knees if it were loosened. 
 He was glad she wore no earrings, and there was only 
 one ring on one finger of her right hand. Her hands were 
 perhaps the most beautiful of all, and firm as they were 
 beautiful. No, she was not the feeble, clinging type. 
 
 In such a mood, Charles would have quarrelled with any 
 one who found any fault with Madeline. He was infected 
 by her atmosphere, and saw her only with the glamour of 
 youth.
 
 206 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 An hour of fitful slumber, and then the dawn called 
 him once more on deck. With a leap of the heart he found 
 that she also was up to greet the sun. 
 
 "I could not sleep," she said. And remembering the 
 sleepless night he himself had spent, the heaviness that had 
 oppressed his eyes, the fatigue of the long restless night 
 passed away as if by magic. 
 
 "She cares for me," he whispered to himself, yet dared 
 not look into her face lest he should find himself deceived. 
 
 "How beautiful the dawn is!" he said, as he leaned on 
 the rail beside her. "Surely this is the perfect hour of 
 the day. The air seems like a living soul, born of the dark 
 and holding its arms out to the light. The first faint sun- 
 shine comes as a caress, and the whole world fills with hap- 
 piness." 
 
 "To me," she replied, "the air seems to be more full of 
 music when the day breaks than when the sun is high. On 
 land, out in the fields, of course you hear the birds twit- 
 tering and singing as the light awakes them. But here 
 at sea also, there is a cadence in the earliest breath of wind 
 which one does not notice in the later breeze." 
 
 "The world is simpler in the dawn," he answered. "By 
 noon it has become more complex. The air becomes crowd- 
 ed with light and with so many voices. The eyes see too 
 much, the ears are deafened." 
 
 "Everything just now seems elemental." 
 
 As the sun raced up, more people came on deck, sailors 
 clattered along behind them, white caps appeared upon the 
 sea, the spell was broken. 
 
 "Mother will wonder where I am," she said with a sigh. 
 "I think I had better go back to our cabin." 
 
 But she smiled at him as she disappeared into the door- 
 way, as if to say "We understand each other now." 
 
 "My wife believes in taking it easy," said Mr. Raymond 
 who appeared alone at the breakfast table. "She won't 
 appear in public till she is sure of the weather. Madeline 
 is keeping her company." 
 
 Charles spent the next two hours on the port deck,
 
 DRUMS AFAR 207 
 
 where their chairs were, always at the other end, but always 
 with one eye on the door through which they were likely 
 to come on deck. When at last they appeared, he pre- 
 tended not to notice them till they were settled down in 
 their rugs. As he sauntered up he found Madeline back 
 again on earth, and laughing over a volume she had bor- 
 rowed from the library. 
 
 "What's the joke?" he asked. 
 
 "Nothing, only it's so old-fashioned. 
 
 She was reading Georges Ohnet's "The Iron Master," 
 and the words which amused her were : 
 
 "Octave and Claire grew up, reared by their mother 
 the heir in serious fashion, so that he might become a useful 
 man, the daughter delicately, so that she might charm the 
 life of the suitor she selected." 
 
 "No wonder these Frenchmen are so conceited," she 
 said. "Their women exist merely to charm them." 
 
 "What must a man do to satisfy an American wife?" 
 
 "He must suit himself to her wishes, just as much as 
 she suits herself to his." 
 
 "I thought the American man put business first." 
 
 "That's why so many American women leave their homes 
 for Europe." 
 
 The ever changing sea was a never failing interest : now 
 leaden grey, now a slaty blue, now the winedark ocean; 
 then in the setting sun a sheet of rose madder; lastly, as 
 seen through the port-hole of the dining-saloon deep blue 
 turning to purple, and so to-night, luminous with stars. 
 
 That night again another moonlight night he had an- 
 other dancing lesson, and once more the sea of passion 
 flooded his senses. That night, however, he was too tired 
 not to sleep. It was a sleep of dreams the dreams of a 
 young lover. 
 
 When he awoke next morning the ship was tossing and 
 swaying so that he could hardly shave. The fenders were 
 on the tables, and of the few who had had the courage 
 to appear at breakfast one or two would make dashes for
 
 208 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 the door. Charles and Mr. Raymond, however, proved 
 immune, and spent the d^y in the smoking-room. 
 
 Mr. Raymond did most of the talking, Charles merely 
 putting in a question no\v and then to draw him out. 
 Love casts a glamour over all the world pertaining to the 
 beloved, and even if Madeline's father had not been an 
 entertaining talker Charles would have listened to him with 
 respect. 
 
 After the gale, they passed through mists, when the fog- 
 horn sent its shuddering note through the ship. Then came 
 clear weather again when a freighter, or a liner, or an oc- 
 casional four-masted sailing ship broke the line of the hori- 
 zon. Once a school of porpoises swooped upon them from 
 the North, playing at hide and seek in the ship's white 
 wake. 
 
 The smoking-room began to fill up again with little groups 
 airing conversations. One was between a man with an un- 
 redeemed Cockney accent bragging about the States how 
 much better things were done there than in England. The 
 Saturday Evening Post was the greatest magazine the 
 Ladies' Home Journal was the only real woman's paper 
 he and his wife took them regularly in Cincinnati America 
 was twice as free as England. 
 
 "Where do you come from ?" he asked of the man beside 
 him. 
 
 "Canada," said the other shortly. 
 
 "What makes you stay up there? We're more alive and 
 prosperous in the States." 
 
 "Yes, but I don't have to shed my British citizenship, 
 and become a renegade." 
 
 The newly-made American flushed. 
 
 "I'm better off now than ever I was in England." 
 
 To which the Canadian growled, 
 
 "You look the kind of man who would sell his country 
 for a dollar." 
 
 "Hold on, there," interrupted a third, "this is an Ameri- 
 can ship." 
 
 "Good ship too, sir, no offence intended to you."
 
 DRUMS AFAR 209 
 
 He rose and left, the others following shortly after. 
 
 The Americans on board, Charles noticed, talked less of 
 London than they did of Paris, Berlin and Vienna. 
 
 "We are children of Europe," explained Mr. Raymond, 
 "not of Great Britain alone. America was planted and 
 replanted by the Dutch, the German, the French, the Slav, 
 and the Israelite just as much as by the Irish, the Scotch 
 and the English. We may be said to speak the language 
 of Shakspere, but even Shakspere is claimed now by the 
 Germans. 
 
 As he looked down at the emigrants on the lower deck 
 aft, Charles saw that there seemed to be more foreigners 
 than British: dark-haired women suckling babes at the 
 open breast, Scandinavian men dancing with each other 
 to the wheeze of a concertina, refugees from overcrowded 
 Russia huddled in a corner as if not yet daring to breathe 
 the air of freedom. From these the British seemed to 
 hold aloof not that they were any better, though they 
 seemed better clothed and less unwashed. 
 
 Two days passed before he saw Madeline again. 
 
 "I suppose you think me a coward," she said, as he 
 tucked her into her wraps, "and I suppose I am. Mother 
 asked me to stay down and keep her company, and honestly 
 I was glad of the excuse." 
 
 "Only three days more to New York," said Charles, "and 
 the Captain prophesies fine weather. Sports are announced 
 for this afternoon, concert for to-morrow evening and a 
 masquerade dance for the last night of all. I told the 
 purser you could sing." 
 
 "And I'll tell him you can dance," she replied merrily. 
 "We must practise again to-night. What will you learn 
 next Boston Glide or the One Step or the Maxixe ?" 
 
 "What shall we have to dance at Mrs. Schomberg's ball?" 
 
 "That won't be a real dance. It'll be a crush where 
 people go to see and to be seen. But we'll have lots of 
 dancing elsewhere that's if you come to Chicago. They 
 dance there all day long you have it to every meal and 
 between and after meals."
 
 210 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "Don't make the prospect too horrible," said Charles. 
 "Otherwise I may never go at all." 
 
 "Not even if I ask you?" she said, catching his right 
 hand with her left. 
 
 Charles felt himself suddenly trembling from head to 
 foot with excitement. 
 
 With an effort he pulled himself together. 
 
 "Do you really want me to come?" he said, sinking into 
 the chair beside her. 
 
 "Ask me at the masquerade," she said provokingly. "It 
 will depend on how you dance." 
 
 The next three days for Charles were days of feverish 
 anticipation. He was eager to see the New World, of 
 which New York was the gateway. He was eager to 
 know the new world to which Madeline was beckoning 
 him, a world of love and kisses. He knew that the invi- 
 tation was signed and sealed in her heart, though not de- 
 livered. He felt her trembling now sometimes as he held 
 her close to him in the dance, and return the pressure of 
 his hand. At the concert she sang only love-songs, and 
 though she did not look at him once while she sang, he 
 knew they were meant for him. 
 
 At the masquerade Madeline appeared as an Alsatian, 
 a broad black silk bow on her head, in bodice of embroidered 
 silk with puffed white sleeves, an apron over her short blue 
 skirt and buckled shoes on her blue-stockinged feet, a 
 charming figure and therefore much in demand. But for 
 Charles, who came late in plumage of white cap and apron 
 borrowed from the chef, she had considerately reserved 
 his share. 
 
 "We shall have to sit out some of these," she said, "oth- 
 erwise we shall be too conspicuous." 
 
 "So much the better," he said daringly. "Let's find the 
 darkest corner." 
 
 He knew that the moment was approaching, and the 
 thought made him dance as if in a dream. By this time 
 he had fallen under the spell of ragtime, and the delight 
 of syncopated rhythm and of stepping and gliding to the
 
 DRUMS AFAR 211 
 
 strains with one who moved in such harmony was so 
 exquisite that the orchestra always seemed to end too soon. 
 Dances that she had meant to sit out found them swinging 
 to the music, until late in the evening she came to him all 
 flustered with the message. 
 
 "Mother wants me to stop. What shall I do?" 
 
 "Come with me to the boat-deck," he answered quickly. 
 "You promised to let me know to-night." 
 
 They slipped out through the crowd of lookers-on, and 
 were up the steps before Mrs. Raymond had noticed their 
 absence. Charles could have gone blindfolded to the corner 
 he had chosen not a soul could see them there. 
 
 She was panting with excitement as they reached the 
 spot, but Charles was now deliberate and cool. He had 
 waited long enough, and he meant to have it out with her. 
 
 There were two chairs, but neither of them tried to sit. 
 
 "Now," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and 
 looking straight into those deep pools, her eyes. "Tell me, 
 do you want me to come?" 
 
 "Yes," she said huskily. "I do." 
 
 "Is that all?" he asked, drawing her closer to him, and 
 slipping his arms round so that she could not escape. 
 "After all this waiting, don't I deserve something more?" 
 
 He was taller, so she had to lift her face to him. 
 
 "What is it that you want?" she whispered. 
 
 "Just a little one," he said, kissing her gently. 
 
 Her face turned pale, and he thought for a moment she 
 was going to faint. Then she lifted her hands, and flung 
 her arms round his neck. 
 
 "Charles," she said, giving him a long warm kiss. "You 
 dear, dear boy!"
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 WHEN Charles awoke next morning, the ship was 
 at anchor. A glance through the port-hole 
 showed a curtain of blue haze, and his watch 
 suggested that it was the twilight before the 
 dawn. 
 
 "We must be at the harbour bar," he thought, and so 
 it proved when he went on deck. Lights were twinkling 
 from a low shore, and beside the ship, not more than two 
 hundred yards away, was a dark grey mass which, as the 
 light crept in, shaped itself into the outline of a destroyer. 
 Beyond that was a yacht, pearly white, and beyond that 
 again the wooded slope of a steep bank. 
 
 The stillness of the ship evidently awakened others, for 
 Charles was joined by a score or so of the four hundred 
 who on the fairer days had crowded the decks. 
 
 "Going to be a sizzling day," said one. 
 
 He was right, for when the steamer began to move 
 again the air grew warmer and more humid, until by the 
 time they passed the Statue of Liberty Charles decided to 
 slip into flannels. 
 
 When he appeared again on deck, Madeline and Mrs. 
 Raymond were there dressed for the city. 
 
 "Oh, you wise man!" cried Mrs. Raymond, who already 
 looked a trifle wilted. "We are in for a regular New York 
 heat wave. If I lose my temper, blame the climate." 
 
 "What do you think of our sky-scrapers now?" asked 
 Mr. Raymond, turning round from the deck-rail in front 
 of them. "Don't they pile up fine?" 
 
 "They certainly look less deadly than I expected," said 
 Charles, impressed in spite of himself by the tall silhouettes 
 grouped round and culminating in the Woolworth. "They 
 suggest a race of giants in business."
 
 DRUMS AFAR 213 
 
 "Said very nicely for an Englishman," commented Made- 
 line with a smile. "We feel quite perked up." 
 
 "Talking of giants," remarked Mr. Raymond, "look at 
 these German liners at Hoboken. That must be the Kron- 
 princessin Cacilie. I wish we could have seen the Vater- 
 land. Gehosophat! one certainly must hand it to these 
 Deutschers." 
 
 The other passengers evidently shared his feelings, for 
 there was a general stampede to the port deck. 
 
 Then they came abreast of the American Line quay, and 
 as the tugs punched and pulled the ship into her berth, 
 hundreds of small American flags were produced and waved 
 to the crowd of waiting friends on the wharf. 
 
 Then "Hello Bill," "Hello Mary," "Had a good trip?" 
 "How's Mother?" and a thousand such greetings passed 
 between ship and shore till the gangway was connected 
 and the passengers who had been pent up for a week poured 
 out. Charles, who yielded place politely to a party of 
 school-teachers, got separated from the Raymonds and, as 
 the trunks for the F's arrived before the R's, took the 
 opportunity of getting his cleared through the customs. 
 
 Then after sending a wire to Kelly announcing his ar- 
 rival he went in search of Madeline, whom he found in 
 tears beside her Saratogas, watching the pitiless onslaught 
 of the inspectors on her Paris trophies. 
 
 "Talk of hooligans and apaches!" she sobbed. "This is 
 the most outrageous, the most barbarous country in the 
 world. Just look at these brutes. They handle lace as if 
 it were tarpaulin. Can't you do something?" 
 
 The general atmosphere of fury among the lady passen- 
 gers proved that Madeline was not the only victim. But 
 she was evidently in no mood to argue. So sauntering up 
 to the most aggressive customs man, a ruffianly edition of 
 the Kelly he had known at Oxford, Charles took a chance 
 shot. 
 
 "Have a heart, officer," he said, offering a cigar. "This 
 lady is also Irish." 
 
 "Sure, and isn't that the noble race?" was the grinning
 
 214 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 reply. "Patrick O'Doherty, come here and mark these 
 trunks. They're passed." 
 
 Her wrath turned suddenly to merriment, Madeline could 
 hardly thank her rescuer for laughing. 
 
 "You certainly are a wonder," she said as she folded 
 and put back the salvage. "Who taught you the secret ?" 
 
 "It was just a lucky guess. Where is your mother?" 
 
 "Trying to make good with father somewhere. She 
 needed him to pay the duty on her hats, and it certainly 
 was some duty. There they are. She looks as if she had 
 won out." 
 
 Mr. Raymond seemed depressed, but cheered up when 
 he found that Madeline had no similar demands to follow. 
 
 "Thank Mr. Fitzmorris for that," she said, and with the 
 tale restored his humour as they drove to the hotel. 
 
 There were two hours to put in before luncheon, but it 
 was nearly all that time before the insinuating barber into 
 whose chair the unsuspecting Charles had sunk released his 
 impoverished but exhilarated victim. Then just as he re- 
 joined the Raymonds, Kelly's answer was handed to him: 
 
 "Crazy to see you old son of a gun gee but Im glad 
 where can I meet you newport boston or new york wire 
 quick to eleven forest avenue evanston why not come 
 straight to a real city the latch string is out for you fitz old 
 man if any one else wants you say nothing doing mike." 
 
 "Where is Evanston?" asked Charles of Mr. Raymond, 
 showing him Kelly's telegram. "Is this a suburb of Chi- 
 cago ?" 
 
 "Most people think so," replied Mr. Raymond, "except 
 the dyed-in-the-wool Evanstonian to whom Chicago is the 
 suburb of Evanston. Our own home is in the same street, 
 so that if you accept your friend's invitation we shall still 
 be neighbours. And I don't see why we should not travel 
 together. We shouldn't like to Icse Mr. Fitzmorris on the 
 road, should we, Madeline?" 
 
 "Evanston," replied that elusive damsel, "is Chicago's
 
 DRUMS AFAR 215 
 
 highbrow quarter. It takes its tone from the Northwestern 
 University, and is as literary, artistic and musical as you can 
 expect to find outside Paris. The Kellys must have taken 
 a house there since we left for Europe they used to live 
 in Lincoln Park." 
 
 "Say, mother," continued Mr. Raymond, turning to his 
 wife, "how long will it take you to get ready for Lake 
 Geneva? Suppose Mr. Fitzmorris spends a few days with 
 his friends, after Newport, and then comes along with 
 us?" 
 
 "That would just suit fine," replied Mrs. Raymond, wire- 
 lessing with her eyes to Madeline, whose smile was suffi- 
 cient answer. "I can do the house over by Friday, and we 
 can leave Saturday. Most people will be on vacation, so 
 we won't be interrupted with calls. We should like to 
 offer you a room," she explained hospitably to Charles, 
 "but you can understand that after being away three years 
 we are hardly ready to look after guests. But in our 
 summer cottage at Lake Geneva it will be different, and 
 you will indeed be welcome." 
 
 "You are too good to me," said Charles, diffidently seiz- 
 ing this opportunity of being with Madeline, "but I fear 
 this is imposing too much " 
 
 "That's settled," said Mr. Raymond decisively. "We'll all 
 leave Newport together. I guess we had better go by Bos- 
 ton. It is closer to Newport than New York, and just 
 thirty hours run from Chicago." 
 
 So oppressive was the heat that they decided to leave 
 for Boston that same evening. Charles had received his 
 formal invitations for the dinner and ball at Newport 
 from Mrs. Van Tromp and Mrs. Schomberg, and though 
 there was no special train, there was a letter from an 
 unknown Mrs. Dubois, offering him hospitality for the 
 night of the ball, saying she had his costume and asking 
 him to name the train by which he should arrive so that 
 she could send her car to fetch him. 
 
 "Here, too, we shall be neighbours," said Madeline. "The
 
 216 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 Dubois live next door to the Schuylers with whom we 
 ourselves are staying." 
 
 After lunch, Madeline and Mr. Raymond were eager to 
 show Charles Fifth Avenue, Mrs. Raymond hugging her 
 room on the plea of headache. He would have been con- 
 tent if Mr. Raymond had also remained behind, but pre- 
 ferred two Raymonds to no Raymond at all. Madeline, 
 knowing that soon she would have to make the great con- 
 fession, could not be too affectionate towards her father, 
 with the result that he was in excellent humour. 
 
 Although the social columns said that New York was 
 "empty," there was an endless, slow procession of vehicles 
 on this delectable thoroughfare, so much so that they chose 
 to leave the car they had hired and walk. Charles was 
 fascinated even more by the people on the pavement than 
 by those in vehicles. 
 
 "Every man," he said, "looks as if he had stepped out of 
 an office, and every girl as if she were going to a tango 
 tea." 
 
 The shops, he thought had more variety than those in 
 Regent Street or Bond Street, and had more Oriental wares 
 to offer. Kelly's remark that Chicago was four thousand 
 miles nearer Japan than London recalled itself, and Charles 
 began to realize that the idea of an Oriental Ball was not 
 so very eccentric. 
 
 Most attractive was a corner house where flowers were 
 sold, every window dressed with window boxes, one mass 
 of leaves and blossom. Then again there was the sur- 
 prise of finding an immense store which did not even dis- 
 play its name. 
 
 Just as they got back to the hotel the long-due storm 
 burst down upon New York. A hurricane of wind and 
 rain swept the streets clear of human beings, tore down 
 signs, broke windows, uprooted trees, while the lightning 
 played with tropical magnificence and peal followed peal 
 with deafening rapidity. 
 
 Yet in fifteen minutes all was over, and a cool sweet 
 breeze lightened the air. Mrs. Raymond's headache evap-
 
 DRUMS AFAR 217 
 
 orated, and they dined, a much relieved and congenial 
 party. 
 
 Charles's first impression of the American sleeping car 
 was hardly flattering. He shied at the lack of privacy, 
 for though Mrs. Raymond and Madeline had secured for 
 themselves a compartment, the agile old lady in the berth 
 above him showed more ankle in her climbing up and com- 
 ing down than seemed appropriate. However, he was able 
 to sleep, though the nearness of the girl he loved filled 
 his mind with tempestuous thoughts for a full hour before 
 oblivion came. 
 
 At the hotel in Boston, even more palatial and be-mar- 
 bled than their quarters in New York, the morning papers 
 told of Austria's threatening demands on Servia. 
 
 "What do you think of this European mix-up?" asked 
 Mr. Raymond of Charles as they sat down to breakfast. 
 "You are a newspaper man, and no doubt posted on the 
 Balkans. Did you read that note from Vienna? Isn't it 
 the limit?" 
 
 Charles had been thoroughly disturbed by the news. 
 
 "The worst feature of the note is," he said, "that it was 
 not written in Vienna. It has all the earmarks of Berlin, 
 and came from the same source as the 'Mailed Fist' and 
 the telegram to Kruger. This is not Austria's summons 
 to Servia. It is Prussia's challenge to Russia, and if Russia 
 means business we are on the eve of the greatest war since 
 Napoleon." 
 
 "You don't say!" exclaimed Mr. Raymond, echoed by 
 the murmurs of the two ladies. "I'm glad we got back 
 when we did. Let's hope it's not so bad as that. Anyways, 
 we're here now. We could," he continued, changing the 
 venue, "have gone direct to Newport from New York, but 
 I did not wish to lose this chance of dropping in on Bos- 
 ton. This is the home of printing in America, and I have 
 many friends to call on. Madeline and Mother can take 
 you to the State House and to Boston Common and to the 
 Public Library you'll find in Trinity Church a window by 
 your William Morris "
 
 218 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "Thanks," said Charles. "I'm more interested in the 
 Boston Tea Party." 
 
 "That will take you to the old South Church, enough 
 for one morning. We'll meet again at lunch, then catch 
 the train for Newport." 
 
 With the aid of a motor-car, it was surprising how much 
 ground they covered in the few hours at their disposal, 
 though the narrow streets of the business quarter made 
 progress slow and sometimes perilous. Charles fell in love 
 with the Public Library. 
 
 "It's worth crossing the Atlantic to see this," he said. 
 "When I think of our musty mausoleums and see this 
 marble palace, I wonder how we can look you in the face. 
 If this is the fruit of your democracy, call me a Repub- 
 lican." 
 
 There was a different air from New York. The dresses 
 were not so chic, the faces of the girls less pretty, the faces 
 of the men less hard, more women who looked like spinsters, 
 more men who looked like students, the air of a city which 
 has dusty or muddy streets and puckers its face against 
 mist or wind and sits over the fire of an evening with a 
 book. 
 
 So said Charles, but Mr. Raymond said: 
 
 "You have seen only a corner. It takes a week to motor 
 through the suburbs and the outskirts. There you see the 
 wide and tidy streets, the fresh green lawns, the fresh 
 young faces, and, beyond, God's own country." 
 
 Something was evidently on Mr. Raymond's mind, for he 
 merely toyed with his lunch. 
 
 "Say, girls," he said at last, "I'm going to break your 
 hearts, or leave you behind at Newport. There's something 
 in the wind that doesn't sound healthy. Had a wire from 
 Chicago to say the banks are tightening up. To-morrow 
 sees me on the road for home. No Bailey's Beach for 
 mine." 
 
 The faces of the women fell. 
 
 Madeline was the first to recover. 
 
 "Never mind, Father," she said, patting his hand, "we'll
 
 DRUMS AFAR 219 
 
 go with you. We've had two years in Europe, so what's a 
 week-end here? So long as you don't cut out the Ball, 
 what's the odds?" 
 
 "That's the girl," said Mr. Raymond, cheerful again, and 
 helping himself to a plateful of neglected mayonnaise. 
 
 They saw a little of the country on the road to Newport, 
 though Charles was too intent listening to Madeline to look 
 much out of the window. She was talking of her friend 
 Mrs. Schuyler, a schoolfellow married to a wealthy stock- 
 broker, now in the inner Newport circle, and sponsor for 
 her own invitation to to-night's affair. 
 
 As they drew nearer their destination, the woody country 
 opened out with Narragansett Bay hinting at the ocean. 
 Everything seemed on a bigger scale than England, low 
 though the landscape was, and homely.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 MRS. SCHUYLER herself was at the station to 
 meet the Raymonds and kissed Madeline with 
 frank affection. 
 
 "So glad you've come," she said. "I tried to 
 work the oracle for your father and mother, but the bars 
 were up before I got your wireless. However, they can 
 have a quiet rubber at home with the old people. You'll 
 stay over the week-end, won't you?" 
 
 "Father says he must be in Chicago Monday, and Mother 
 thinks he can't be trusted alone, so that means we leave 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "Isn't that too bad." Then in an audible whisper, "Who's 
 your friend?" 
 
 "Pardon me Mr. Fitzmorris Mrs. Schuyler an Eng- 
 lish editor who was our shipmate on the St. Louis. He 
 goes to the dinner and ball to-night the Dubois are putting 
 him up." 
 
 "There is their car," said Mrs. Schuyler, pointing to a 
 limousine and beckoning to the chauffeur. 
 
 "Au revoir," said everybody. 
 
 Newport, from the little Charles saw of it on the way 
 to the Dubois, began by being an old-fashioned seaport town, 
 full of sailors and sea-captains; the houses mostly of wood 
 with occasional mansart roofs, narrow crowded streets 
 with diminutive fruit, fish, baker and nicknack shops. 
 Climbing up a hilly thoroughfare the car passed more pre- 
 tentious shops and then spun along a broad avenue flanked 
 by residences reminding him of Bournemouth. Many a 
 hedge was of English privet, backed by chestnut, copper 
 beech and rhododendron. 
 
 The car slowed down and passed through a gate into a 
 garden radiant with hollyhocks, larkspur, cactus dahlias, 
 
 220
 
 DRUMS AFAR 221 
 
 snap-dragon, campanulas, sweet-william and roses framing 
 a lawn as smooth and trim as a billiard-table. The house 
 itself was of the type he knew as Queen Anne, red bricks 
 with homely white-silled windows, round which a tea rose 
 climbed in coppery clusters. 
 
 The door was opened by a maid who told the chauffeur 
 to carry Charles's things to his room, then led him through 
 a cool Adams drawing-room dainty with tapering Hepple- 
 white furniture and lighted on the farther side by tall 
 French windows which opened on to a larger lawn at the 
 back of the house. Here in a rustic summerhouse linked 
 with the veranda by a pergola of Dorothy Perkins sat a 
 group of ladies, one of whom rose to greet him with wel- 
 coming hand. 
 
 "I did not hear the motor," she apologized, "or I would 
 have come to the door. How charming of you to accept 
 an invitation from a stranger. Come and have a cup of 
 tea. You see we are adopting your English customs, Mr. 
 Fitzmorris. These are some of my friends Mrs. Hunt 
 Mrs. Fullerton Mrs. Rice Mrs. Foster all going to the 
 ball to-night Miss Marsh whom you will take into dinner 
 at Rockwood." 
 
 The grace with which she made the introductions set 
 Charles at once at ease. He was so appreciative of her 
 flowers that she flushed with pleasure. 
 
 "Let me show you some of my roses," she said, rising 
 and putting a bud in his buttonhole. "You must have 
 noticed my William Allen Richardson upon the wall I 
 brought it over myself from a Devonshire garden. Here 
 is a bed of La France with a pillar of Aime Vibert don't 
 you love these dense white clusters? and that is Charles 
 Lefebre with Felicite Perpetue and between them what I 
 call my strawberries and cream bed, Antoine Rivoire with 
 its pillar of Hiawatha. I hate the formal garden don't 
 you think it so much jollier to have the flowers grow up in 
 masses, accentuated here and there with tall spiked blos- 
 soms or with pillars ? We come too late to Newport for the 
 tulips and the Irises, but I do revel in my roses."
 
 222 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 So carried away was she by her enthusiasm that by the 
 time they returned to the summerhouse, many minutes had 
 sped and her callers were on the point of leaving. Miss 
 Marsh, a vivacious blonde, was the only one to remain, and 
 proved to be herself a guest. 
 
 "By the way," said Mrs. Dubois after the last good-bye, 
 "your costume is ready for you in your room. Perhaps 
 you had better try it on. Miss Marsh and I also require 
 some time to dress. These affairs mean more to a woman 
 than to a man. You will excuse us, won't you ?" 
 
 On a rush-bottomed chair beside an old-fashioned carved 
 mahogany fourposter Charles found his costume, wide 
 trousers and a loose tunic with wide sleeves covered by a 
 coat of dark blue richly embroidered with gold. On the 
 bedspread lay a wig with directions how to put the costume 
 on, and as this was a simple process, he had leisure to think 
 over the day and frame the questions he might put to the 
 great ladies who had admitted him to their exclusive circle. 
 If they were like Mrs. Dubois, it was not going to be such 
 a dreadful ordeal. 
 
 Miss Marsh and their hostess were both ready when 
 Charles descended, the former in a bright blue coat em- 
 broidered with red braid, the latter in a dark green silk 
 with underskirt of flame-coloured satin. 
 
 "All ready for the Chop Suey?" cried Mrs. Dubois. 
 "We're very punctual to-day fifteen minutes still before 
 the car comes round." 
 
 "Spend it telling me about Mrs. Van Tromp," said 
 Charles. "I know something about Mrs. Schomberg, but the 
 other lady is more or less a myth. Is she for woman's 
 suffrage too?" 
 
 "Very lukewarm. She is more the old-fashioned type. 
 Only the other day, when Mrs. Schomberg had her first 
 suffrage meeting at Carrara Cottage, Mrs. Van said to me, 
 'A woman's first duty is to her home, and her second duty 
 is to her home, and likewise the third and fourth duties, 
 and several others.' She always talks like that full of 
 pep and ginger."
 
 DRUMS AFAR 223 
 
 "Is she very rich ?" 
 
 "Nothing to speak of. Don't believe half the newspapers 
 say. She makes a cent go further than I can make a 
 dollar. We Americans are so used to talking money that 
 we can't imagine anything good unless it costs a million. 
 Mrs. Van employs less capital than brains. I don't suppose 
 her dinner to-night will amount to a thousand dollars, but 
 if it doesn't get the front page in to-morrow's New York 
 Herald, I'll eat my hat." 
 
 "Is that her ambition?" 
 
 "That and some more." 
 
 Just then the car honked, so with a few last looks at the 
 mirror, and a scurry for a forgotten wrap, and an order to 
 the maid about the lights, they were off. 
 
 "At the time your wireless came," said Mrs. Dubois as 
 they turned into the Avenue, "Mrs. Van was glad to get 
 any kind of a man. Anything lazier than the men we have 
 round here has yet to be found on God's green earth. It 
 was the bore of getting the costumes that frightened them. 
 'Don't be a crow' she said to my husband when he threat- 
 ened to back out, and he would have been here only he had 
 a sudden call this morning from Wall Street. Your wireless 
 came like a gift from heaven. 'Here's a man, and what's 
 more an Englishman and better still an editor. Don't let 
 him escape' she said to her social secretary. 'Cable this 
 minute.' I happened to be there, and promised to take care 
 of you. That is your secret history." 
 
 Considering that its chatelaine was the acknowledged 
 leader of the richest American society, Rockwood was sin- 
 gularly austere. A wooden house with simple pillared 
 portico, set on a rocky corner between two roads, with a 
 lawn, a shrubbery and a few trees, it might have been 
 rented in England for 100 a year. Yet the very simplicity 
 of the place appealed to Charles and the prejudice which 
 had led him to expect money-bag architecture changed into 
 desire to meet a woman supreme by force of character. 
 
 The interior was more startling. They entered a hall 
 bizarre with Chinese banners, draped overhead to form
 
 224 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 a decorative ceiling of black dragons on their yellow 
 grounds. The walls were enriched with carvings and with 
 hangings of blue and gold. Each guest was heralded by a 
 tall standard bearer costumed in dark blue satin studded 
 with bronze nails to a throne carved with dragons on which 
 sat some one evidently meant for an Emperor of China, 
 tawny in face with drooping moustache, robed in the same 
 yellow as the ceiling, embroidered with the same black 
 dragons, and wearing a yellow head-dress with peacock 
 plumes. At his side, dressed in a richly figured coat of 
 flowers and butterflies and golden dragons with head-dress 
 of pearls and silver and flowers was his consort, imperso- 
 nated, as Mrs. Dubois whispered, by Mrs. Van Tromp 
 herself. 
 
 Each guest was supposed to come as an historic Chinese 
 personage, and Charles, who had been told he was Prince 
 Lung-King of the Ming Dynasty, had an almost irresistible 
 tendency to announce himself as Pooh Bah, the Lord High 
 Executioner. However he refrained, although as he made 
 obeisance according to instructions, he was once more al- 
 most upset by the greeting "Pleased to meet you. See you 
 later." 
 
 So far he had not seen any one resembling Madeline, but 
 as he entered the dining-room with Miss Marsh on his arm, 
 he felt a fan tap his shoulder and he turned to find her 
 smiling in a coat of orange silk with a head-dress of butter- 
 flies and jade. 
 
 The dining-room was aglow with red lanterns of 
 camphor-wood, set like sentinels beside each of a number 
 of small tables. Wistaria drooped in purple blossoms from 
 a bamboo latticed ceiling, and the latticed walls were hung 
 with panels in Chinese characters. An embroidered tapestry 
 covered a screen beside the carved door, while the fireplace 
 was concealed with another embroidery of white and red. 
 The scent of camphor-wood filled the room and as an 
 orchestra commenced to play some weird, oriental music, 
 a ripple of laughter and applause told the hostess that once 
 more she had achieved a triumph.
 
 DRUMS AFAR 225 
 
 Besides Miss Marsh there were six others at Charles's 
 table, Mrs. Dubois and her partner, an attache from the 
 Russian Embassy, Mrs. Schuyler and a naval captain, and 
 another lady who introduced herself as Mrs. Van Tromp's 
 social secretary, paired with a cheerful individual who in- 
 sisted on talking pidgin English. An insidious cocktail 
 slipped the leash of every tongue, and Charles, whose repartee 
 and fund of stories never seemed so ready, kept his table 
 in such laughter that it drew the eyes of the whole room. 
 
 Served with his ice, Charles found a note from the social 
 secretary which read: 
 
 "Mrs. Van Tromp will speak with you after dinner. I 
 have all the photographs you are likely to want, and will 
 send them to you in the morning." 
 
 As the ball at Carrara Cottage would not start till mid- 
 night, Mrs. Van Tromp had arranged to pass the time with 
 dancers from New York, bringing the latest steps from 
 Paris and a Chinese dance, which of course would be the 
 rage. In an interval of these Charles was summoned by 
 the hostess, a stately figure with clear-cut face, though the 
 crow'sfeet round the pouched and drooping eyes showed 
 the advance of age. She spoke decisively yet pleasantly 
 with hardly noticeable accent. 
 
 "Come and sit beside me, Mr. Fitzmorris. So you are 
 the English editor ? I hear you are quite a wit. All the rest 
 of us were envious of your table. What is your mission? 
 Is it to publish a week's impressions and call them the 
 United States? How nice to think that English writers 
 are speeding up to the American pace." 
 
 Charles blushed. 
 
 "I know," he said, "it is absurd to rush through like this, 
 but I am travelling with friends. I hope I shall have the 
 good fortune to return here. I never have learned so much 
 in so short a time, nor found such charming hospitality. In 
 England, Newport is much maligned." 
 
 "We are moving with the times," she replied, "and allow 
 other things to count than birth or money. I myself believe
 
 226 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 that men of brains thinkers, artists and that class should 
 be admitted to our best drawing-rooms." 
 
 "I'm glad you count editors in that class," said Charles 
 blandly. "I wouldn't have missed this for anything." 
 
 Mrs. Van Tromp looked at him sharply, but he did not 
 move a muscle. 
 
 "Nothing," she continued, "would enliven our American 
 Society so much as would the presence of brilliant men 
 and women. Newport teems with silliness. Well, are you 
 ready to hold up your hands in horror at another of our 
 Four Hundred's freak entertainments ?" 
 
 "You could not be more freakish than we were the other 
 day at the Savoy Midnight Ball, when every one was either 
 Cubist or Futurist or Better-Not-Do-It-Againist." 
 
 "I am glad to think that your rich are spending money. 
 What would happen to the poor if it were fashionable for 
 Society to economize ?" 
 
 "I see you are not a Socialist." 
 
 "Why should I be? Socialism just makes the poor dis- 
 contented and read Ibsen. It makes them dislike us instead 
 of thinking us their friends. It makes them envy us, 
 whereas we have trials just as hard to bear as they have. 
 We have things of which they do not dream impertinent 
 chauffeurs, parvenus who are insanely stupid, and dudes 
 who are so bored they can hardly speak." 
 
 "Tragedies indeed!" said Charles dryly. "But it is also 
 annoying to a mother to see her baby die of hunger." Then 
 seeing the lady stiffen, "Tell me," he continued hurriedly, 
 "are such affairs as this intended to elevate or to amuse?" 
 
 "A little of both. This Oriental Fete is not a mere osten- 
 tatious whim. It originated in your English habit of after- 
 noon tea which we Americans have adopted holus bolus. 
 From drinking tea we took to building teahouses. Now 
 my neighbour, Mrs. Schomberg, a delightful woman and a 
 thorough artist, followed the idea to its finish and planned 
 a typical Chinese Teahouse, instead of a Mission Bungalow 
 or an Italian Villa. The Chinese Teahouse had to be inau- 
 gurated with a Chinese Fete, the guests to be appropriately
 
 DRUMS AFAR 227 
 
 gowned. And so to-night we are wearing old brocades and 
 faded silks, because we are logical Americans. Don't you 
 think the costumes charming? They are such a relief from 
 the modern ball-dresses. They do not suggest or reveal 
 more than half the female figure." 
 
 "Then you have pronounced ideas on dress?" 
 
 "My social secretary will tell you that it was I who 
 started the American movement in dress, to stop our women 
 from flocking over in droves to Paris to buy everything 
 they wear. I am proud to be an American. In culture we 
 are behind, but in everything else we are ahead of Europe. 
 The trouble is that in our culture we try to follow Europe 
 instead of going ahead on natural lines. Because you 
 English drawl, we think you are insipid, and sc we affect 
 insipidity ourselves. Americans should imitate not your 
 accent and your mannerisms, but the breeding and the cul- 
 ture which make you so certain of yourselves. What we 
 want is a good shaking up." 
 
 "Women," said Charles, "seem better able than men to 
 shake society. No doubt you have heard about our mili- 
 tants." 
 
 "My friend Mrs. Schomberg does not let me forget them. 
 But I can't follow her. I have come out flatfooted for the 
 Home. I tell our girls to look on marriage as a means not 
 to secure a settlement but to bring up a family. I know I 
 can do more by influencing my husband and his friends than 
 by personal intervention at the polls, and so can every 
 woman. A conscientious mother has all her work cut out 
 in doing her household duties and meeting the intellectual 
 demands of her children without haranguing at street cor- 
 ners. What are women's rights? The best right of every 
 woman is an affectionate husband, but she may lose that 
 by exciting his ridicule. From the days of Adam men and 
 women have filled different positions in life, discharging 
 different duties. The twentieth century is too late to change 
 our characters. But I am neglecting my duties as a hostess. 
 We shall meet again no doubt at Mrs. Schomberg's "
 
 228 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "What do you think of her?" asked Miss Marsh when 
 he returned. 
 
 "If I saw her in a play," was Charles's non-committal 
 answer, "I would call her a caricature. She is more aristo- 
 cratic than the aristocrats. But then I have been only one 
 day in the United States, and have not yet had time. How 
 goes the enemy ?" 
 
 "We shall move on very shortly now." 
 
 Charles booked two dances, but kept a corner of his eye 
 on Madeline. That damsel was evidently in good company, 
 and a pang of jealousy shot through him as he realized that 
 she could be content without him. At Mrs. Schomberg's 
 Ball he meant to have his innings. 
 
 It was half a mile to Carrara Cottage, but the motor cars 
 soon bridged the distance. The entrance was through tall 
 iron gates past a lawn and pool which seemed too small 
 in proportion to the Corinthian pillars of the portico. The 
 Van Tromp party, although it must have numbered nearly 
 a hundred, was evidently but one section, for the semi- 
 circular drive was already packed with cars discharging 
 guests. 
 
 Here there was less attempt than at Rockwood to give 
 an oriental atmosphere. The entrance hall was of yellow 
 marble, frankly Louis XIV and of the purest style. On 
 either side hung tapestries one of the Massacre of St. 
 Bartholomew and one of the Death of Colligny. Louis XIV 
 also was the period of the room in which Mrs. Schomberg 
 received her guests. Petite and plump in figure, her hair 
 of Titian red, with rather retrousse nose and dominant 
 lower jaw, she was dressed as Charles had seen pictures 
 of a Chinese Empress most noticeable of all was the head- 
 dress of turquoise and pearls and diamonds, the brooches 
 with pendant sapphires and the blaze of precious stones on 
 neck and shoulders. A finely embroidered tunic of mauve 
 with sheens of many other colours divided into panels 
 covered a skirt of cloth of gold, and as she moved one could 
 see that her shoes were glistening with pearls. 
 
 Beside her was a taller slender swanlike figure, unmis-
 
 DRUMS AFAR 229 
 
 takably the Duchess, in cloth of gold embroidered with 
 dragons and wearing a small head-dress of black velvet. 
 
 With such an army of guests to greet, Mrs. Schomberg 
 was naturally distraite, so Charles after his formal introduc- 
 tion left the lady for a more convenient hour and passed 
 on to the ballroom in search of Madeline. He had evidently 
 come ahead, for she was nowhere visible, but the blaze of 
 colour on the floor and the setting of the room salved his 
 impatience. It was a chamber worthy of the Grand 
 Monarque dominated by two immense bronze torchbearers 
 flanking each side of a richly figured and illuminated man- 
 telpiece. The gilded bas-reliefs of gods and goddesses, the 
 Tintoretto ceiling might have been made for Versailles. 
 The floor was already thronged with figures conscious of 
 their novel costume and interested more in studying each 
 other than in dancing. There were brocaded velvets, silks 
 of orange and green and poppy-red, satins of blue and rose 
 and flame, cloth of gold and braid of silver, head-dresses 
 and necklaces and ropes of precious jewels. Through it all 
 ran the current of excitement the Duchess, the lovely 
 American Duchess, was there, and also an English Duke 
 This was the reddest of all red-letter nights in Newport. 
 
 At last Madeline came in, and Charles secured her pro- 
 gramme. 
 
 "How many may I have ?" he pleaded. 
 
 "Don't put the same initials more than twice," she an- 
 swered graciously. 
 
 To his delight she had kept it almost free just a single 
 dance here and there for her dinner companions. 
 
 "Don't think me greedy," he said, after filling up the 
 blanks. "We can sit out just as many as you please or else 
 explore. This place has possibilities." 
 
 She laughed her acquiescence and chatted gaily with him 
 till a partner claimed him. Charles was himself booked 
 for Miss Marsh, who shook her fan reprovingly. 
 
 "I saw you," she exclaimed, "but I won't tell. Is she as 
 nice as she looks?" 
 
 "Nicer, if that were possible," he answered blushing.
 
 230 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "Tell me," this in her ear as they began to dance "you 
 know this house where can one find the quietest corner?" 
 
 "It's a shame to give away the secret," she replied, "you 
 dance too well to be let off." 
 
 "Oh, I shan't loaf," he said. "You bet that I'll be busy." 
 
 "Try the Gothic room upstairs," she said. "Nothing 
 there later than Columbus. Just the romantic place for 
 you and her. The crowd will ricochet between the supper 
 tables and the Teahouse." 
 
 After he had danced with Madeline twice and once with 
 Miss Marsh, Charles remembered he had to interview his 
 hostess. That lady was obviously glad to escape for a 
 moment the ebb and flow of guests. 
 
 "Walk over to the Teahouse," she commanded in harsh 
 but compelling voice. "I can show you best in that way 
 what I aimed at. If I had been a man and had to choose 
 a profession, I would have been an architect it is so prac- 
 tical a form of art and I love doing things. How do you 
 like this house ?" 
 
 "So far as I have seen it, it is admirable so scholarly. 
 It might have been designed by Mansart." 
 
 Her face coloured with pleasure. 
 
 "What a relief," she said, "to meet an educated man. I 
 made no mistake when I sent you that invitation, though 
 honestly I sent it chiefly because I admired your nerve in 
 facing me after the fun you poked at me in London. Still 
 I bear no grudge for that. I wish the architect were alive 
 to hear you. The average American just thinks of this as 
 a marble caprice, a million dollar cottage, whereas it really 
 is, as you suggest, a scholar's dream. So too with my 
 Chinese Teahouse so far from being an extravagance, it is 
 a perfect thought perfectly expressed. Of course this ball 
 is mere advertisement that is part of the game. I speak 
 to you frankly you are in the game yourself. But if I 
 could show you the drawings, the plans, the detail, the 
 research which have gone into this pavilion, you would 
 understand that it is more than a mere freak." 
 
 They stepped on to a marble terrace massed in flowers
 
 DRUMS AFAR 231 
 
 overlooking a long green sward towards the sea. The trees 
 were starred with myriad lanterns, and a bright lane of 
 lamps led to the Teahouse. This was itself outlined with 
 coloured lights, and beacons at the head of their tall 
 standards challenged the sea and sky. 
 
 Over the lawn the guests who did not for the moment 
 dance strolled carrying staffs with lighted lanterns. Charles 
 and his hostess paused for a while to admire the fairy scene, 
 then followed the lane of lights and crossed a stream by 
 a high Chinese bridge connecting the gardens with the rock 
 on which was perched the Teahouse. On nearer view, the 
 vivid colour became more evident the red lacquer pillars 
 and the green tiled roof behind and above the hanging 
 lanterns of the massive Torii or gateway, the blue tiles of 
 the balustrade, the great blue jars at the head of the stone 
 steps these, with the carved friezes and the dragons, the 
 overhanging eaves and the great sweep of outcurving roof, 
 gave an exotic charm to this Atlantic promontory. From 
 the balcony they saw a surf beating on dark mysterious 
 rocks, and a long winding cliff. 
 
 Inside the door, the lacquered pilasters painted with Chi- 
 nese characters, the teakwood decorated panels, the rich 
 rugs and lovely vases, the fragrance of strange woods, the 
 latticed light of figured lanterns, the perfect finish of fine 
 craftsmanship all showed an artistry which made the more 
 garish decoration of the Rockwood dinner somewhat taw- 
 dry by comparison. 
 
 "We opened this three weeks ago to advertise the Suffrage 
 movement," she explained. "Newport, you know, is 
 thought by most Americans to give the cachet to anything 
 on trial, and though some neighbours say I have taken up 
 this movement to advertise myself they are glad enough to 
 get my invitations." 
 
 "Your women in America," said Charles, "seem just as 
 aggressive and as capable as men." 
 
 "Our men are fools not to realize what we can do. Our 
 President thinks less of a hundred thousand mothers than 
 he does of one walking delegate. But the world to-day
 
 232 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 needs all the human energy and brains it can employ. Debar 
 us from political power and you have lost just half the 
 force that God has given as a means for further progress 
 and advancement. I wish we had a war where in the 
 absence of the men we women could show what we could 
 do. We could farm the land, we could run the business, 
 we could drive the streetcars, operate the railroads and fill 
 a million jobs in factories that men do now because their 
 Unions and their Brotherhoods say their members alone 
 can fill them. If you had a war on your hands in England, 
 you would not waste your time in torturing women of 
 intellect such as Lady Constance Lytton, or Mrs. Pankhurst, 
 or Dr. Louie Garrett Anderson. You would be glad to have 
 them organize your woman's labour, and help to run your 
 hospitals; you would put them on to food supply, not 
 forcible feeding." 
 
 She spoke with astonishing energy. Was this the de- 
 cadent Society that he had read about? If only the men 
 were like the women, it was surely otherwise. Abnormal 
 it might be, and crude, just as the wealth it represented was 
 beyond due limits. But this was still the first, or at most 
 the second generation of supremacy, and the vigour which 
 had brought the leaders to the top was vigour still. 
 
 They traced their steps back to the house, but before 
 leaving him Mrs. Schomberg led him to the curving stair- 
 case with its balustrade of bronze, to the landing. 
 
 "There," she said, pointing to a bas-relief, "is the Mansart 
 whom you spoke about, and there is a marble bust of 
 Louis XIV. The lantern hanging from the ceiling is a 
 replica of one at Versailles, and the whole edifice, except 
 the Gothic room, owes its inspiration to that most splendid 
 epoch. Remember it is the epoch of Madame de Maintenon, 
 who just as much as Louis XIV himself held sway over 
 Europe." 
 
 Returning to the ballroom, Charles found Madeline wait- 
 ing impatiently. 
 
 "Don't think me a wallflower," she snapped. 
 
 For answer Charles slipped his arm around her waist and
 
 DRUMS AFAR 233 
 
 swung out to the dance. Under the spell of rhythm and 
 music, her irritation vanished and the close clasp thrilled her 
 again with irresistible emotion. 
 
 "Why can't this last for ever?" she said as the music 
 ceased. "We seem to have been born to dance together." 
 
 Just then the lights went out, leaving the room in sudden 
 darkness. Whether she was frightened or merely an oppor- 
 tunist, she clung to him. 
 
 "It's only a joke," said some one, and broke the spell. 
 "Let's dance outside on the terrace." 
 
 The orchestra was summoned from the staircase to the 
 white piazza, and under the stars the ball went on, gayer 
 than ever. 
 
 Across a supper table under an awning lit up by Chinese 
 lanterns Charles placated Madeline with the reason for his 
 absence, and then persuaded her to come and see the Tea- 
 house. 
 
 "This is the first chance we have ever been able to walk 
 arm in arm," he whispered, "and to be for any time alone. 
 When are you going to let me speak to your father? It is 
 maddening to see you with other people and to talk formal 
 conversation when I want to put my arms round you and 
 kiss you and make you feel that we are meant for ourselves 
 alone." 
 
 "Let me go easy," she answered. "Father will be all 
 right if I get him in a good mood. He has taken a fancy 
 to you, but we must break him in gently. Of course if it 
 comes to a scrap, he'll have to knuckle under. But he's a 
 dear old boy, and I'd like to have him with us." 
 
 "And your mother ?" 
 
 "She cuts no ice in this. She knows I shall marry whom 
 I choose. I've told her so before when she wanted me to 
 fall for an Italian flapdoodle. Charles, dear, leave it to me. 
 Wait till we get to Chicago." 
 
 They were under the trees now. 
 
 "Let's look behind this shrubbery," he said. "We may 
 find a seat there and have a quiet talk."
 
 234 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 There was no seat, and except by standing close against 
 a bush they could be noticed from the path. 
 
 "Quick !" he said. "There's no one visible let me have 
 just one." 
 
 She offered him her hand. 
 
 "No, on the cheek." 
 
 "That sounds like 'Hands Up.'" 
 
 "Better than 'Thumbs Down.' " 
 
 "Wait till we get to Chicago." 
 
 "Now or never." 
 
 "I wish," she said, "I had a complexion like your English 
 girls. It takes me all my time to raise a blush." 
 
 "Let me help you," he said, bending his face to hers. 
 And she did not resist.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE train for Boston left no time for Bailey's 
 Beach, but Madeline had not brought her Merry 
 Widow hat to Newport for nothing, and as she 
 swept into the Casino on the arm of Mrs. Schuyler 
 an inquisitive ripple stirred the equanimity of that blase 
 assemblage. Charles's eyes were glued to his divinity, so 
 much so that Miss Marsh discovered herself in monologue. 
 
 "This must be your first affair," she murmured in his 
 ear. "I never saw any one so badly hit. Do present me. 
 I want to find out what an American girl should be or do 
 to catch an Englishman." 
 
 Charles blushed. 
 
 "Thanks for the warning," he said. "I must be more 
 guarded." 
 
 "No, don't," she urged. "It's so rare to find something 
 genuine in our artificial world. Lo and behold ! In amongst 
 our diamonds and dollars has strayed a human heart." 
 
 Charles turned to his companion with new interest. She 
 was good-looking and well-dressed, but this suggested some- 
 thing more. 
 
 Madeline also noticed the lady's attractions and Charles's 
 interest. She therefore lost no further time in memorizing 
 costumes. An introduction quickly followed, and Miss 
 Marsh was skilfully but firmly steered away from the man 
 whom Madeline had chosen. 
 
 "Who is this Miss Marsh?" she asked, surely somewhat 
 pettishly. 
 
 "Fellow guest," he answered, "at Mrs. Dubois'." 
 
 "Too gushing for me," was her disturbing comment. 
 Then, 
 
 "She's jealous!" was the thought that flashed upon him. 
 
 Henceforth he was in high good humour. 
 
 235
 
 236 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "She's jealous!" he kept chuckling to himself. "That 
 means, she really cares for me." 
 
 On the train to Boston, it was almost impossible to get a 
 word in with Madeline, as Mrs. Raymond was a perfect 
 machine-gun of questions on the subject of the dinner and 
 ball, each demanding an answer, with the object of satiating 
 her apparently unquenchable curiosity about these historic 
 happenings. So, too, when they transferred to the Chicago 
 train, so that if Charles expected another tete-a-tcte this 
 day with Madeline he was disappointed. 
 
 Next morning he completed his initiation into American 
 long-distance travel the democratic absence of privacy in 
 the Pullman, and the entertaining "common room" of the 
 observation car. While he was struggling there with the 
 half-ton or so of paper known as a Sunday Edition, he was 
 rejoined by Mr. Raymond, looking graver than ever. 
 
 "Seen the news from Europe ?" asked the latter. "Looks 
 as if Serbia had called the bluff. What do you think now?" 
 
 "To tell the truth," answered Charles, "I haven't suc- 
 ceeded in disentangling the news yet from this debauch of 
 colour and advertisements. Ah, here it is! Give me ten 
 minutes." 
 
 The cables were truly sensational. Serbia's reply was 
 declared by Austria to be "unsatisfactory." Diplomatic 
 negotiations were broken off. Both armies were mobilizing. 
 King Peter and his court had evacuated Belgrade. 
 
 "Berlin is at the back of it all," commented Charles, 
 pointing to a cable from that city. "This is not Austrian 
 diplomacy. These cables show that Berlin takes more 
 interest in the matter than Vienna. Look how the Germans 
 are being worked up in organized crowds and parades, 
 insulting the Russian and French embassies. Read between 
 the lines of this message 'The enthusiasm could scarcely 
 be greater if it were Germany's own war which was about 
 to begin.' I only hope to God that England is ready." 
 
 "How England? What has England to do with this?" 
 
 "What had England to do at first with Napoleon, or with 
 Louis XIV? Yet it was Wellington who in the end de-
 
 DRUMS AFAR 237 
 
 stroyed the power of Bonaparte and Maryborough who 
 smashed the Bourbons. She is the bulwark against the 
 continental tyrant, and if the Kaiser means to be another 
 Charlemagne he must fight England first." 
 
 "But surely England can't get into the scrap without a 
 reason ?" 
 
 "Don't worry about the reason," said Charles. "Leave 
 that to the Foreign Office." 
 
 "Thank heaven this is America!" exclaimed Mr. Ray- 
 mond. "It beats me how you cold-blooded Europeans can 
 talk of war. I was only a boy in our own North and South, 
 but the little I saw then was enough. Never again !" 
 
 The appearance of Madeline put an end to such dis- 
 cussion, and Charles spent the rest of the journey in a 
 subdued ferment of love-sickness. Mr. Raymond immersed 
 himself in reports and letters which had met him at Buffalo, 
 while Mrs. Raymond snoozed peacefully over the Literary 
 Digest, so that the two young folk could exchange confi- 
 dences without interruption except for meals. 
 
 It was an opportunity such as had seldom occurred be- 
 fore, and as Charles talked he began to realize how little 
 he knew of the girl with whom he had fallen in love. She, 
 it is true, knew a good deal about him, for Mrs. Raymond 
 with those leading questions in which so many elderly 
 American women are expert had discovered what his father 
 was, how old his mother was, how many sisters he had, 
 how many aunts, uncles, cousins and second cousins, what 
 Church he belonged to, whether he believed in palmistry and 
 table rapping, what he took for headaches, how many ill- 
 nesses he had nearly died of when a child she was a perfect 
 encyclopaedia on illnesses and described with embarrassing 
 detail the symptoms she had herself experienced all in the 
 hearing of Madeline who was, however, less communicative 
 on such domestic intimacies. 
 
 It was from Mrs. Raymond that Charles also learned 
 most of what he did know about the Raymond family. Mr. 
 Raymond apparently had "got in bad" with his own people 
 for marrying a Protestant he being of French-Canadian
 
 238 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 forbears and naturally brought up in the Catholic Church 
 but he had long ago given up going to mass or confession, 
 and had frankly no interest in religion. The priests had 
 tried to get him to send Madeline to complete her education 
 at least in a convent, and it was really half to escape their 
 importunities that mother and daughter had gone to and 
 stayed so long in Europe. Madeline like herself belonged 
 to the Protestant Episcopalian Church, and Episcopalian 
 she would remain. There was only one congregation that 
 really counted in Chicago, and that was St. James's, and the 
 Bishop was a lovely man. He preached such dandy ser- 
 mons, telling them how religion had got into a rut and how 
 he thought they came to Church to get away from hell, not 
 because they wanted to go to heaven, wasn't it cute? 
 
 As he sat watching Madeline, Charles realized that here 
 in her own country she harmonized, whereas in Europe she 
 had suggested the bizarre. It was characteristic of her race 
 to be aggressive, but her accent was less strident than that 
 of her neighbours on the car. In a country where costume 
 seemed so much to the women, she was by no means over- 
 dressed ; was domesticated too was knitting all the time. 
 
 "No more hotels and boarding houses for mine," she 
 startled him by saying. "Three years of foreign food is 
 enough. When we get to Lake Geneva, and you taste the 
 bread I bake, and the pies, you'll know what it is to have 
 me for a friend." 
 
 At Toledo Mr. Raymond brought them the Chicago 
 Sunday Herald. 
 
 "Same old Chicago !" he remarked. "Thirty-two divorce 
 cases anti-vice campaign bathers in Lake drowned by 
 undertow city imperilled by strike suffrage leaders fight- 
 ing for the limelight " 
 
 "What are they doing now?" asked Madeline. 
 
 "Helping the Cause by throwing their superfluous wed- 
 ding presents into the melting pot." 
 
 After which he beat a politic retreat. 
 
 As dusk grew on and the gleam of Lake Michigan re-
 
 DRUMS AFAR 239 
 
 minded them that Chicago was at hand, they arranged to 
 lunch together at least once before the end of the week. 
 
 "Make it at the Tip Top Inn," she said, "in the red room 
 to the right. The Dickens pictures will remind us both of 
 England, and yet it is true American. We can do a matinee 
 as well. You may write to me if you like, but not more 
 than one letter a day. I want you to spend your time in 
 seeing Chicago. What you have to say can keep till we 
 meet again." 
 
 And so at last the journey had ended. 
 
 "Well, isn't this a sight for sore eyes!" said Kelly, clap- 
 ping Charles on the shoulder as he stepped off the Pullman. 
 "So you have come all the way to little old Chicago. My, 
 how glad the folks are ! Mother has been as busy as a hen 
 with one chicken getting ready for you. Why, Henry!" 
 this to Mr. Raymond "how do you do? What's the best 
 word? Have you met Fitz? You travelled on the same 
 boat? What do you know about that! Mrs. Raymond, 
 pleased to meet you and Miss Raymond all on the same 
 boat? Fitz, old man, you always fell on your feet. Tell 
 me, Miss Raymond, is Fitz still shy with the girls ?" 
 
 So laughing and chaffing, Kelly welcomed his friend, and 
 Charles already felt at home. 
 
 With an au revoir to the Raymonds, they passed out of 
 the station. 
 
 "Holy Mackerel !" said Kelly as he steered his car through 
 streets noisy with the rattle and slang of the streets. "Isn't 
 that girl a peach! Where did you pick her up? Henry 
 Raymond says she cost him a mint of money, but if she 
 is as good a singer as she is a looker she'll pay dividends." 
 
 "So you know Mr. Raymond?" 
 
 "You bet I do. He's a lovely gentleman. We both belong 
 to the Chicago Athletic. He told me he was going to 
 Europe to collect his family, and by jinks he did it just in 
 time! Some of those here with families on the other side 
 are getting jumpy this news don't look too good, and 
 traveller's cheques won't buy peanuts if there's a European 
 war."
 
 240 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 They were in Michigan Avenue now, one of a swift pro- 
 cession of motor cars which sped up or down that resplend- 
 ent highway. A cool breeze from the Lake swept away 
 the headache which had accumulated in the long journey. 
 
 "By Jove," said Charles, "there's a bigness and openness 
 about this place that you don't feel in New York. There 
 you are stifled by the sky-scrapers. Here you still have 
 room to breathe, and these tall buildings lift you up." 
 
 "You've hit it," said Kelly. "This is America. New 
 York is just New York." 
 
 The succession of parks and garden cities which the night 
 was not yet too dark to conceal came as a further revelation. 
 
 "How different to what I expected," said Charles. "It's 
 true that I saw those drawings of Jules Guerin at Burling- 
 ton House but I never realized they had anything to do with 
 the real Chicago. I somehow thought of this place more 
 as the city of 'The Jungle/ slaughter-houses and foreign 
 quarters and factories." 
 
 "We both slaughter and manufacture everything except 
 First Families," replied Kelly. "Now you are in Evanston 
 this street with the double row of elms is Forest Avenue, 
 and there at the gate is Viola." 
 
 Under the clustered lights, she looked more than ever 
 charming dressed in white, without a hat, holding out both 
 hands to welcome him. 
 
 "Yes, you may kiss him," said Mike cheerily. "Fitz is 
 perfectly safe. He has tied up with another girl." 
 
 "We never kissed !" Charles and Viola both exclaimed in 
 the same breath, and then, with old-fashioned superstition 
 linked their little fingers and wished a wish. 
 
 Charles wished that he might always have such a welcome 
 wherever he went, and Viola wished that she might always 
 be as happy as she was then. 
 
 Mrs. Kelly stood watching them from the open door. 
 
 "Don't forget the old lady," she called, and brought her 
 gentle welcome down the steps. 
 
 "I never knew before I was so popular," said Charles
 
 DRUMS AFAR 241 
 
 laughingly, as he sunk into a chair on the wide veranda. 
 "It's going to be hard to get away from here." 
 
 "Going away!" exclaimed Viola. "Don't let's even say 
 the word. Tell me all about London, and all about Bedford 
 Park all at once now everybody be quiet and listen." 
 
 Charles's conscience smote him that he had seen so little 
 of the elder Mainwarings, but he was able to tell her about 
 Frank's success and of his meeting with her parents at 
 Madeline's concert. 
 
 "We saw the account of that in the News," said Mrs. 
 Kelly. "Is that the Madeline Raymond whose father lives 
 down the road?" 
 
 "Yes," said Mike, "she came back to-day by the same 
 steamer as Fitz, and by the same train as Fitz she's the 
 one and only girl, now isn't she, Fitz?" 
 
 If beetroots have pride, any beetroot would have been 
 proud to be as red as Charles grew then at Mike's happy 
 shot. 
 
 "May we congratulate?" asked Viola. 
 
 "Not yet," admitted Charles, laughing in spite of him- 
 self. "Her parents haven't been told." 
 
 "That is not always necessary," remarked Mike. 
 
 "Often quite unnecessary," added Mrs. Kelly significantly, 
 as if her opinion was that parents saw more of the game 
 than any one imagined. 
 
 After that they sat up till midnight, talking over old 
 times, with Viola rushing off at intervals to see her baby, 
 till at last Kelly said : 
 
 "Time to hit the hay." 
 
 "Not till he has seen my darling," said Viola, and tiptoed 
 him into the holy of holies where lay the new little Mike. 
 
 Next morning Charles was wakened by the sunlight, and 
 looked out of his window into a garden ablaze with red and 
 yellow blossoms. 
 
 "Viola's hand is in this," he thought. 
 
 "Some garden too," said Kelly, giving her due credit, 
 "there is no other like it that we know of in Chicago. Most 
 of the States in the Union have each a flower as emblem, and
 
 242 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 Viola has planted a State Flower Garden where each should 
 have a place, to show she means to be a good American." 
 
 "All our blue flowers are over now," she explained. "I 
 wish you could have been here in May to see our violets 
 and columbine and lupins and pasque flowers. Now we are 
 in the month of scarlet and gold look at Ohio's carnations, 
 and New York's roses and the wild rose of Iowa, and that 
 blaze of Indian Paintbrush for Wyoming, and that splash 
 of red clover and then those flaming golden poppies for 
 California. What a palette to paint with!" 
 
 "The first summer after we were married we spent in 
 travel," said her husband. "We got the actual soil from 
 many of the States, as well as the plants." 
 
 "It is the cactuses that give the most trouble," said Viola, 
 "but with the help of our greenhouse in winter we can do 
 wonders. I have grown so fond of this garden that I hate 
 to leave it, however hot the summer." 
 
 When Charles told them he would have to leave them at 
 the end of the week, there was an outcry, but, on the further 
 confession that he was going to be near Madeline Raymond, 
 they relented. 
 
 "So long as you can give me three days to show you that 
 Chicago is half civilized, I will let you off," said Kelly. 
 "Then when you come back from Lake Geneva, give us 
 what Miss Raymond leaves of you. This is as good as a 
 trip to England for Viola. She just loves to hear you talk." 
 
 "Indeed she does," said Mrs. Kelly. "So, Mike, honey, 
 run down to the office, and leave Charles to her till lunch 
 time, when you can have him again till supper." 
 
 "That's so," said Mike. Then, "Fitz, old man, do you 
 still play golf ?" 
 
 "Haven't played a round since I went down from Oxford. 
 Are you still keen ?" 
 
 "Crazy as a bed-bug. Tell you what we'll have a game 
 this afternoon. Never mind if you haven't brought your 
 sticks. I'll give you a set of misfit clubs so that I can beat 
 you good and win some money off you. Mother, dear, 
 send Charles down to Rector's in a taxi about noon. I'll
 
 DRUMS AFAR 243 
 
 drive him out in my own car after lunch to Flossmoor and 
 show him an honest-to-goodness course. The weather's 
 just right and we must give him a good time while the 
 going's good. Don't hold supper for us. We'll have a 
 bite at the University Club and join you before bedtime." 
 
 After the baby had submitted to its morning worship 
 and set out with its coloured Mammy for an airing, Charles 
 was once more put through his paces. 
 
 "I'm perfectly happy," said Viola, anticipating his ques- 
 tion, "but I do so love to hear about dear old London. I 
 never knew before how fond I was of the place yet I do 
 like Chicago, don't I, Mother?" she added, turning to Mrs. 
 Kelly. 
 
 "You certainly do," said the old lady, "and Chicago likes 
 you. Charles," she said, "you should see how homey Viola 
 is now. She goes fanning about the house in her check- 
 apron, and all the afternoon she has comers and goers. And 
 now that little Mike is here, I think she has taken root." 
 
 "Check-apron? What sort of a garment is that? It 
 doesn't sound like Viola's style." 
 
 Both ladies laughed immoderately. 
 
 "A little old-fashioned," admitted Viola, "but old-fash- 
 ioned things are what I like now." 
 
 "But what is it like?" persisted Charles. "Let me see 
 you in it so that I can tell the news in Gath." 
 
 "Get Mike to take you to Daddy Long Legs," said Mrs. 
 Kelly. "It is playing just now at Powers Theatre. Ruth 
 Chatterton wears a check-apron in the first act, and if you 
 don't love her in that just as much as in the fine dresses 
 she wears later I shall be surprised." 
 
 "And what about Art?" continued Charles. 
 
 "Mike is so good to me," said Viola, "and has built me a 
 lovely studio. Just now I am designing a nursery for little 
 Mike to grow up in fairy tales for the walls, and every 
 piece of furniture a toy. Just let me show you some of 
 the designs. They aren't all worked out yet baby has been 
 here only a little while." 
 
 It was a light and airy room, in which surely any child
 
 244 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 would grow up healthy. A pine tree threw its cool shade 
 upon them as they stepped out on to the balcony overlooking 
 the garden. 
 
 "I asked Mike," she said, "to come out here because 
 Evanston reminds me of Bedford Park of course it is on 
 a bigger scale there are twenty-five miles of garden city 
 like this along the North Shore but the trees and the 
 gardens to each house remind me of home, and at first 
 when one comes out here that means so much. If only 
 there weren't so many motorcars ! they keep one awake at 
 nights." 
 
 Then a sound of wheels on the gravel, and "There's 
 Baby !" and she was running downstairs to kiss and fondle 
 her darling. 
 
 It was not till well on towards noon and he was waiting 
 for the taxi that Charles took up the newspaper. A refer- 
 ence to a slump on the London Stock Exchange made him 
 turn to the financial columns, where he read there had been 
 the worst fall in prices in a generation, as a result of the 
 Austro-German crisis. The face of his father rose before 
 his eyes, and a flood of sympathy welled up in his heart. 
 
 "Poor old Dad !" he said to himself. "More trouble !" 
 
 The cables to bankers in New York were more optimistic 
 one saying "General war improbable distinctly an 
 Austro-Servian fight." The source of the cable, however, 
 was Frankfort, and Charles knew enough by this time about 
 financial news to be suspicious. Yet he was relieved to see 
 that as much prominence was given to the Irish riots where 
 the Scottish Borderers had fired into a Dublin street mob 
 as to the Servian affair. 
 
 As he drove down Forest Avenue towards the city, he 
 looked up at the windows of the Raymonds' house but there 
 was no sign of Madeline. 
 
 Mike Kelly was waiting for him at the entrance to the 
 restaurant and hugged his arm affectionately as they stepped 
 downstairs. 
 
 "Well, what do you think of Viola, old man. Isn't she 
 a wonder? Only two years over here, but able to stand
 
 DRUMS AFAR 245 
 
 up to any old-timer. I don't usually throw bouquets, but 
 you certainly are some matchmaker. I tell you, I thought 
 at first I was taking a long chance in bringing her over here, 
 but she has made good. Mother used to be the main squeeze 
 in the Kelly outfit, but she's got to hand it over to Viola. 
 Let's sit over in the corner. There's a whole raft of things 
 I want to talk about. How's the appetite? We're liable 
 to get some real food here. Hullo, Harry " this to the 
 restaurant manager "Meet my friend Charles Fitzmorris 
 of Christ Church, Oxford first visit to Chicago a good 
 scout and in a pretty damned hurry. Thought I'd like to 
 show him a regular joint." 
 
 From the greetings and handwavings, Charles could see 
 that Kelly had a host of friends among the men who 
 thronged the place business men from the looks of them, 
 with an air of self-confidence and push which no weather 
 could slacken. It was eighty degrees in the shade outside, 
 and none too cool here below. 
 
 Kelly fired a broadside of questions about Madeline Ray- 
 mond which left no escape. Before they had ended their 
 race through lunch he had the whole story. 
 
 "There's only one finish," he said as he lit his cigar. "If 
 you mean to hold the girl, you got to stay here. Old man 
 Raymond clears thirty thousand per ann, and that's the 
 kind of home she's used to. It's up to you to do the same. 
 You can't earn that in England in a hundred years, but in 
 Chicago a fellow with your brains can soon get a move on. 
 Your father is right. England is played out." 
 
 "The Englishman is not," snapped Charles. 
 
 "There's the spirit !" replied Kelly heartily. "Shake hands 
 on that." 
 
 Their route to Flossmoor took them through drab areas 
 of factories and streets which made the later open country 
 all the more agreeable. As they drove, Charles realized 
 how powerful was the car. Twenty miles rose to thirty 
 with hardly perceptible impulse, and in the stretches beyond 
 the outskirts they purred along at forty-five. It was all
 
 246 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 typical of the American himself, whose quiet determined 
 face was the incarnation of energy and power. 
 
 Flossmoor welcomed them to a beautiful rolling land- 
 scape of fields and trees. The club-house had recently been 
 burned down, but an old farm-house had quickly been 
 adapted to the easy comfort which its members evidently 
 looked for. The greens were in perfect order. 
 
 "Reminds me of Tyre and Sidon!" said Charles when 
 he was offered a "soft drink" at a hut about half-way round. 
 "By the eighteenth hole I shall be a confirmed sybarite." 
 
 Two other men had been drawn by Kelly into a fourball 
 foursome, and Charles became acquainted with the great 
 game of Josh to which the American subordinates golf 
 proper a perpetual flow of insidious badinage aimed to 
 upset an opponent's nerve. Charles played an erratic game, 
 but Kelly was by this time scratch, and between them they 
 won the last hole. 
 
 Charles, they said, was down a dollar. 
 
 "Hand it over, Fitz," said Kelly. "I'm willing to give 
 you bed and board, put you up at the club, stand your 
 drinks, pay your car-fare, and lend you a million dollars, 
 but I draw the line at clearing your gambling debts. Hand 
 it over." 
 
 On their way back to town, Kelly slowed down at a large 
 open square and turned off to the left into a group of grey 
 Gothic buildings. 
 
 "This is Chicago University," he said. "We'll see if we 
 can't find something to remind us of the old days at Oxford. 
 Can you notice anything familiar in that tower?" 
 
 "Magdalen, by all that's holy !" 
 
 The atmosphere and trees and landscape which made the 
 real Magdalen so exquisite were lacking, but a new sym- 
 pathy with this western city entered Charles as he recog- 
 nized the lines of the building itself. The spirit which could 
 pay such homage to an older University surely deserved 
 acknowledgment, and as they came to a halt in front of 
 the tower unconsciously he raised his hat.
 
 DRUMS AFAR 247 
 
 The Hall to which Kelly now conducted him was a still 
 greater surprise. 
 
 "Christ Church!" he exclaimed as he stepped inside, 
 
 "but " and then a smile lit up his face as he saw the 
 
 difference. The wainscoting was studded with coat-hangers, 
 the stately atmosphere of Wolsey's banqueting chamber was 
 cheapened to a cafetaria. 
 
 The card of prices on each table was truly democratic. 
 The napkins were paper and probably used occasionally as 
 missiles evidently, for a conspicuous warning read : "More 
 than two Napkins Per Person will be Charged For." 
 
 Tomato Soup 50 
 
 Lamb Stew 7c 
 
 Hash 70 
 
 Corn 50 
 
 and so on. 
 
 And then waitresses, instead of sleek fat scouts. 
 
 "Wish we could have lived as cheap at Oxford," said 
 Charles. "And whose is that portrait in the place where 
 above the high-table we used to see old Henry the Eighth ?" 
 
 "That guy lounging in the chair with the sick stomach 
 effect? That's John D. Rockefeller our patron saint. 
 This is the University of Standard Oil the other out at 
 Evanston is the University of Wheat. Oxford was built 
 out of the confiscation of the monasteries. Our Universi- 
 ties were endowed by robbing the people. Times have 
 changed, but human nature remains the same." 
 
 "What do they teach here ?" asked Charles. 
 
 "Everything except the Oxford drawl," replied Kelly, 
 "and that no doubt will come when it is found to pay. We 
 have set out to beat Columbia our rival in New York and 
 we'll do it, even if we have to have a Chair of Acting for 
 the Movies." 
 
 If Charles had reason to express astonishment at what 
 he saw in Chicago University, how much more cause to 
 open his eyes at the splendour of the University Club. As 
 they entered the building, he was delighted to find in the
 
 248 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 hall a set of William Nicholson's prints of Oxford, dear to 
 his heart the most perfect things of their kind. Then 
 up a swift elevator to a dining-room resembling the interior 
 of a Cathedral with its tall Gothic stained glass windows. 
 
 "My dear Mike," he said, "this deserves a place in our 
 school geographies. Niagara is nothing to the intellectual 
 stream that must pour through Chicago to justify such a 
 temple. Tell me, are all these other fellows at these other 
 tables real graduates?" 
 
 "Sure thing. We have two hundred thousand of the 
 breed in the United States and Chicago has its fair share. 
 The University you saw an hour ago has seven thousand 
 students registered this year, and in addition we have the 
 Northwestern and the University of Illinois. I tell you, 
 this is some State." 
 
 "Kelly, old man," said Charles, "let me get my breath. 
 Consider me converted, and teach me to discard blind tra- 
 dition, hidebound prejudice, hereditary sloth, insularity, 
 back-numberism and effete old-worldliness." 
 
 "O shucks!" said Kelly. "What will you have to eat?" 
 
 Then at the house after supper two eager hours of talk. 
 
 "My dearest Madeline," Charles wrote that night tearing 
 up a dozen sheets, for this his first love-letter. "If I tried 
 to put down on paper all the thoughts, impressions, emotions 
 of to-day, I could write on till sunrise so different is every- 
 thing from what I had dreamed. Life here seems to be 
 lived at such high speed with such concentrated impulse, 
 that when at last I came into this quiet room it was as if I 
 had stepped out of a whirlwind. Kelly whom I used to 
 take only half seriously now looms up a human dynamo ; 
 Viola, the rather casual woman of artistic temperament, is 
 keyed out of all recognition. Life swirls at such high pres- 
 sure that although I have been all day little else than a 
 bystander, my brain is fagged and my nerves on edge. 
 
 "I have to make a confession. Kelly knows all about 
 our little affair. We were intimate at Oxford, and he soon 
 had it out of me. He says I must go into business here 
 that I should have a chance even though I am an English-
 
 DRUMS AFAR 249 
 
 man. If I only had half his energy and optimism, I should 
 have more faith in what he says. The greatest difficulty is 
 to find an opening. This world is so different from Eng- 
 land your newspapers are written in a different language, 
 your mentality is poles apart from ours. But Kelly simply 
 can't see obstacles he has our future fixed. 
 
 "All day long, in spite of this surfeit of wonderful im- 
 pressions, your face had been before me. I kept on think- 
 ing 'Madeline belongs to this world, was brought up in this 
 rich, impetuous life. How can I ever bridge the difference 
 between England and Chicago, so that our two lives can 
 harmonize. Madeline in Europe was always an American. 
 Can I in Chicago be anything else but an Oxford man?' 
 
 "Every time I saw an 'electric' driven by a lady, I hoped 
 against hope it was you, but no such luck. I suppose you 
 were at home unpacking, ringing up old friends, gathering 
 up the lost threads of the last three years. 
 
 "On Wednesday we are to meet again just a day and 
 a half from now. At this pace I shall be an old man, but 
 you, dear heart, will always be young. 
 
 "I'll send this to you to-morrow morning by the maid. 
 These kisses on this page are surely warm enough to last 
 till then. And through the window I am blowing others, on 
 the chance that one at least may find your lips. 
 "Ewig dein 
 
 "Charles."
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE telephone rang as they sat down to breakfast 
 next morning. It was a welcome call from Mr. 
 Raymond asking Charles and Mike to lunch with 
 him at the Yacht Club. 
 
 "If it's a day like yesterday, we're in luck," said Mike to 
 Charles. "Yacht Club's the cool spot in Chicago." 
 
 Viola claimed Charles for the morning on the ground 
 that he had been stolen from her the afternoon before, and a 
 pleasant chatty morning it began to be. When Viola was 
 occupied with the claims of little Mike, Mrs. Kelly took up 
 the running. She had more or less retired from active 
 work in the firm, she said, feeling that now she was a 
 grandmother she had earned the leisure desired for writing 
 and political propaganda. 
 
 Just about eleven o'clock, the telephone rang again. This 
 time it was from Mike himself, now at his office. 
 
 "Hello, Fitz! I've ordered a taxi for you right away! 
 Call for me here, and we'll go on to the Board of Trade. 
 There's something doing to-day, I tell you beats anything 
 ever since Joe Leiter's deal, time of the Spanish-American 
 war. They say Austria has declared war, and wheat has 
 shot up ten cents. All kinds of rumours from Wall Street. 
 Berlin is unloading stocks to beat the band. Tell you more 
 when I see you. Don't be long." 
 
 Berlin unloading? Once again, Charles was carried in 
 thought across the sea, and saw himself in his father's study 
 at Richmond, talking things over before the final decision 
 to cross the Atlantic. He could hear the voice still, "I'd 
 have a chance then to know why Berlin has been unloading 
 so heavily." 
 
 Almost before he had time to explain, the taxi was at 
 the door. Bidding a hasty good-bye, he jumped in and had 
 
 250
 
 DRUMS AFAR 251 
 
 passed the Raymonds' house before even he remembered 
 to look out of the window. All the way down town, his 
 brain swirled with questions had he been right to leave 
 England? did his father expect this trouble and wish to 
 get him out of the way? would all Europe be involved? 
 what would England do? 
 
 Kelly was all excitement. 
 
 "Just your luck !" he said. "The wheat pit is staged for 
 you. I happened to pass La Salle Street and it's some sight, 
 I tell you. Ever hear of Joe Leiter's deal? Armour had to 
 dynamite the ice in the Straits of Mackinac to get the wheat 
 through before he could break the price." Then, as the 
 rush of traffic slowed them down, "Guess we'd better walk. 
 It's only a few blocks now to the Board of Trade." 
 
 For some distance from the gloomy and top-heavy palace 
 in which wheat was king, the street was thronged with 
 curious crowds, while at the entrance itself a dense mass 
 of onlookers stood lined up watching messengers and clerks 
 and traders pouring in and out. Many of those who 
 made their exit wiped the perspiration from their brows, 
 as if the heat, whether physical or mental, was oppressive. 
 Even in the street one could hear the roar inside. 
 
 "We'll have to go in by the back," said Mike. "Follow 
 me and watch your watch." 
 
 Gradually they edged their way round and into the rear 
 of the building, where, fortunately, Mike met a friendly 
 broker who gave them the floor and a card to the gallery. 
 
 "The bulls are trying for dollar wheat," said the broker. 
 "Margins raised to twenty per cent nothing less. Trading 
 should reach a hundred million bushels. Bill Jones cleared 
 twenty-five thousand dollars in five minutes." 
 
 The Exchange itself was a large dingy hall in which the 
 Stars and Stripes, draped upon a wall, gave the chief note 
 of colour. The hubbub of the traders, and the telegraphic 
 drumfire killed all conversation, and through the turmoil of 
 the floor they had almost to fight their way to the visitors' 
 staircase. 
 
 "What do you think of this ?" shouted Mike to Charles.
 
 252 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "Reminds me of Oxford football and the Freshers' 
 Squash," was the reply. 
 
 At last they were up, and peering over the heads of 
 earlier spectators at the tumult beneath. 
 
 From this point, it suggested a cauldron or live volcano 
 crater, in which the molten surface boiled up there and 
 there over unseen fires. Most tempestuous of all was round 
 the wheat-pit, a seething mass of faces and shirt-sleeves, 
 and hands which threatened and gesticulated and signalled 
 across the floor through the murky air. The official re- 
 porter had a hard time keeping track of such breakneck 
 transactions. A steady roar, sometimes sufficiently subdued 
 to let them hear the rattle of the telegraphs, suddenly would 
 swell into heavy vocal artillery, faint echo of the still greater 
 clash in Europe. 
 
 "If this results from rumours of war," said Charles, 
 "what will happen when the real thing comes?" 
 
 "Hell !" said a man, turning round at the remark. "This 
 is the real thing. They've got the dope. It's war now, 
 sure thing. Formal declaration made by Vienna. The 
 shorts are being hit good and hard." 
 
 A sudden howl from the pit drowned anything more he 
 might have said. By some mysterious means of communi- 
 cation the new disturbing rumour reached the gallery. 
 
 "British battleship squadron ordered to mobilize," was 
 passed from lip to lip. 
 
 The heat became so stifling that Mike and Charles were 
 glad to escape into the street. 
 
 "Holy Moses!" said Mike, mopping his face. "This is 
 real history, not the kind you read in books. Fitz old 
 man, aren't you glad you came? I guess the lights will 
 burn here all night long." 
 
 "I wonder," answered Charles, "what is happening on 
 'Change in London. You know my Governor is a broker 
 up to the neck in it too. I think I'll send a cable. He 
 has had tough luck lately, and I want to know that he's 
 all right."
 
 DRUMS AFAR 253 
 
 "Good idea," agreed Mike. "He may send a useful tip. 
 We'll do it right now." 
 
 They made their way to a cable office where Charles 
 composed his message. 
 
 "How will this do?" he said to Mike. 
 
 "War reported here Trust you are all right Shall I 
 come home? 
 
 "Charles." 
 
 "Shall you come home?" said Mike, his face clouding. 
 "What do you mean? You have just arrived. What has 
 War to do with you ? This is between Austria and Servia. 
 Even if England is dragged in, you are well out of it." 
 
 "That's not the point," said Charles. "If the Governor's 
 firm goes broke, he'll have to economize. This trip costs 
 money." 
 
 "Cut out that line of talk. You are my guest. This trip 
 from now on need not cost you one red cent except for 
 the candies you buy for your best girl. You don't throw 
 money away upon a return passage if I can help it. You 
 stay right here and go into business where the money is. 
 Cut out that last sentence and save a dollar." 
 
 Charles reflected. After all the question was premature. 
 In a few days things might be more developed. 
 
 He therefore followed Mike's advice. 
 
 A clock struck one and reminded them of Mr. Raymond. 
 They were still both flushed when they reached the Yacht 
 Club, so that the wind which fanned their cheeks on the 
 veranda facing the lake came with refreshing coolness. 
 There over the usual cocktail they watched the fleet of 
 pleasure-craft swaying in a harbour which on that some- 
 what breezy day, showed evidence of seas outside. 
 
 "Are you much of a yachtsman?" asked Charles of his 
 host. 
 
 "Mike and I," replied Mr. Raymond, "belong to the 
 rocking-chair fleet. All that I can qualify on is a dinky 
 little motor-boat on Lake Geneva and the cheers I gave at
 
 254 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 Henley Regatta. Well, what do you think of Chicago? 
 Just come from the wheat-pit, have you ? Some pit to-day. 
 I guess you weren't far off, Mr. Fitzmorris, when you fig- 
 ured that this was Germany's affair." 
 
 During luncheon Mr. Raymond proposed his plans. 
 Charles and such of the Kellys as wished to come were 
 invited to hear Carmen on Friday night at Ravinia Park. 
 On Saturday, the Raymonds would move on to the Moraine, 
 and on Sunday afternoon would motor from there to Lake 
 Geneva. 
 
 Charles was invited to join them on Saturday at the 
 Moraine. There would be a dance that evening. 
 
 "Couldn't be better," said Mike. "If Viola weren't tied 
 to the house just now, we should have fixed just some 
 such programme ourselves." 
 
 When two Chicago men get together, it is difficult for 
 them not to revert to business, and as Charles was content 
 to listen Mike and Mr. Raymond revelled in dollars and 
 cents. The latter was much concerned at the outlook for 
 paper. Most of his time since his return had been spent 
 on this problem. 
 
 "Just closed up my new contracts," he said, "so that 
 I'm safe now for five years, and mighty glad to get them 
 out of my system. Mike, old man, it's a great game, this 
 working for a living." 
 
 After the demitasse Mr. Raymond turned to Charles. 
 
 "Now I want to introduce you to my old friend Tom 
 Mosher. I wish we had had time to run over from Boston 
 and visit with him in Portland, but since we couldn't, we'll 
 get acquainted with him at Marshall Field's been to Field's 
 yet?" 
 
 On Charles's negative, Mr. Raymond commenced the lyri- 
 cal rapture to which Chicago folk are subject when de- 
 scribing their many-storied heaven in State Street. Tom 
 Mosher, it appeared in the course of their walk to the heaven 
 in question, was a printer of fine books, and at Field's 
 there was a book department with a Mosher counter. Here 
 Charles came under the spell of this tribute of a New World
 
 DRUMS AFAR 255 
 
 publisher to Old World literature, books printed and spaced 
 in type and on paper that rejoice the heart of the scholar 
 fit robes for the immortals. To pick one up was to sigh 
 how difficult it was to choose why not buy them all ? 
 
 "We'll come back here again," said Mike, "some day when 
 we've a month to spare. In the meanwhile take this from 
 me." 
 
 "This" was Matthew Arnold's Thyrsis and The Scholar 
 Gypsy. 
 
 Charles opened it and read the familiar lines. 
 
 "And near me on the grass lies Glanvil's book 
 
 Come let me read the oft-read tale again, 
 The story of that Oxford scholar poor 
 
 Of pregnant parts and quite inventive brain, 
 Who, tired of knocking at Preferment's door 
 
 One summer morn forsook 
 His friends, and went to learn the Gypsy-lore, 
 
 And roam'd the world with that wild brotherhood, 
 And came, as most men deem'd, to little good, 
 
 But came to Oxford and his friends no more." 
 
 As he read, he seemed to see again the grey quadrangle 
 of Tom Quad, nine o'clock on a midsummer eve, and he 
 was counting as in the old days the hundred and one deep 
 notes of the curfew he was standing on the turf not far 
 from Mercury, most famous fountain. Along the terrace 
 past the Deanery towards Peckwater, a figure in master's 
 gown was hurrying in his ear the voice of Hargrove, quiet, 
 English and cultured, talked of Oxford and her mediaeval 
 beauty Oxford Oxford Oxford 
 
 "All aboard!" like the clang of an American locomotive 
 came the voice of Kelly, startling him out of his brown 
 study. "Henry Raymond has a date at three o'clock and 
 has just ten minutes to make it." 
 
 "All right, old man, I'm ready," Charles answered with 
 a laugh,
 
 256 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "to learn the Gypsy-lore 
 "And roam the world with that wild brotherhood." 
 
 The rest of the afternoon was spent in snapping up the 
 evening papers which poured in breathless succession upon 
 the streets. 
 
 Then before going home to dinner, a Turkish bath and 
 a plunge at the Chicago Athletic. 
 
 The answering cable came late that evening. 
 
 "Situation has not put me off my game. Father." 
 
 "That's good enough for us," said Kelly, laughing. "We'll 
 have a game ourselves to-morrow." 
 
 Next day, however, was the day on which Charles had 
 fixed to meet Madeline at lunch, and it required some little 
 diplomacy to throw Kelly off the scent. Diplomacy indeed 
 proved vain, and Charles in the end had to declare frankly 
 the reason why he could not meet his host at midday. 
 
 "Why didn't you say so before, you son of a gun," said 
 Kelly. 
 
 They arranged to leave the house together, as if for a 
 day at golf, and Charles spent the morning in the Art Insti- 
 tute, sizing up the quality of Chicago's taste in pictures 
 until the longed-for hour approached. He had written to 
 her again, a letter full of anticipation of the joy of meeting 
 her again. Foolishly he had not asked her to write to 
 him, so that he had no absolute certainty she would be 
 there. Surely she would not fail him. The place of meet- 
 ing was her own choice. 
 
 Before entering the Art Institute, he had inspected the 
 restaurant and arranged with a sympathetic gentleman of 
 colour to reserve a table in the corner near the window, 
 leaving the selection of the menu to the said gentleman's 
 discretion. It was certainly an attractive place, with half- 
 timbered effect of dark-stained oak and plaster, green- 
 stained rafters, and prints from Dickens framed in red 
 lacquer.
 
 DRUMS AFAR 257 
 
 Also he had secured tickets for Daddy Long Legs so 
 that they could see the check apron that Viola now af- 
 fected. 
 
 As the hour drew nigh, his heart beat faster, and he 
 wandered up and down Michigan Avenue, looking into the 
 shop-windows but seeing nothing of their enchantment, un- 
 less it were the reflection he looked for to see if his tie 
 were on straight. At last the hour struck, and with a 
 final glance up and down the street to see if she were coming 
 he made for the elevator. 
 
 Two minutes after, Madeline herself appeared, in foamy 
 white, all the whiter for her coal-black hair, with a round 
 sailor hat, and lace ruche round her neck a la Sarah Bern- 
 hardt. She gave his fingers an answering pressure as they 
 shook hands, and smiled into his eyes as she unbuttoned 
 her gloves at him across the table. 
 
 "Did you get my letters?" he asked. 
 
 "You bet I did. I am frightfully excited. I could have 
 kissed your friend Mike Kelly when I read how he told 
 you to get into business here. I suppose you have been too 
 busy seeing Chicago to look around yet for a job. Father 
 said you were going yesterday to see the fun at the Board 
 of Trade. You do have all the luck! There was I, tied 
 to the house with mother, spring-cleaning in August, not 
 even able to go out and bathe have you been down to any 
 of the beaches yet? Well, I guess not, the lake has been 
 pretty rough." 
 
 "Spring-cleaning doesn't seem to have hurt you," said 
 Charles. "You are just the loveliest, daintiest creature in 
 the world " 
 
 "That'll keep till we get to Lake Geneva. Aren't you 
 glad you're coming. You and I are going to have the time 
 of our lives. Once you get there, you'll never want to 
 quit." 
 
 "It must be lovely," said Charles, "but what about the 
 work that Kelly recommended ?" 
 
 "We'll see what father says," she answered, more serious- 
 ly now. "Do you know, I am strong for his opinion. I
 
 258 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 know he thinks you a likely young fellow, and he's such a 
 good mixer himself he knows everything worth while, so 
 he can surely get you a toe-hold. Charles, do stay here. I'm 
 fed up with Europe, and Chicago's home to me." 
 
 "Curiously enough," admitted Charles, "my father told 
 me to stay over here if I saw a good opening. Poor old 
 Dad, he's a good sport. Here's a cable I got from him last 
 night." 
 
 "He certainly is," she said, smiling as she read the mes- 
 sage. "I wish father took things as coolly. He dropped 
 quite a bit on Steel this last month, but was wise enough 
 to get out on Monday before yesterday's slump. Would 
 you believe it three and a half points down in a day, and 
 Reading dropped six and three-quarters!" 
 
 It surprised Charles to hear her talk about the market. 
 How different from his own sisters, who took no interest 
 in their father's business except as a sourse of income. 
 
 "Let's talk of something more cheerful," he remarked. 
 "Yourself, for instance." 
 
 "Me what is there to tell? Except this do you know 
 that concert in London has just panned out beautifully. 
 I've got the hallmark all right, and I'm booked to sing 
 here at the Thomas Concerts this winter. Oh, it has been 
 the dream of my life to get an engagement like that. As 
 father prophesied, all my friends in Chicago will sit up and 
 take notice." 
 
 From what he gathered, a Chicago girl would just as soon 
 sing in a Thomas Concert as in the Heavenly Choir. This, 
 she maintained, was the most musical city in America. It 
 had so many Germans half a million of them and so 
 many Slavs most of whom were born musical that the 
 audiences were good. They loved music and did not go 
 to concerts because they were fashionable. New York 
 might be more of an actor's city, but Chicago was first in 
 music, and first of all in Chicago were the Thomas Con- 
 certs. 
 
 "And what if the Germans and the Slavs go to war?" 
 asked Charles. "There won't be so much harmony."
 
 DRUMS AFAR 259 
 
 "Over here, they are all Americans," she answered. 'They 
 left their taxes and their property behind in Europe, but 
 they brought their music with them. Music may be more 
 developed in certain races, but it has no nationality. Let 
 Europe fight its own battles. But don't let us quarrel over 
 politics." 
 
 "Right you are. Let's go to the theatre it's just about 
 time." 
 
 Sentimental plays had always a fatal effect upon Charles 
 and, with his emotions all wrought up by the delight of 
 being with Madeline, he found himself more than once that 
 afternoon in the theatre unable to keep the tears from 
 rolling down his cheeks. Madeline bore him company, and 
 as she had forgotten her own handkerchief their sympa- 
 thies were mingled on the same square piece of dampen- 
 ing linen. 
 
 "We are a pair of kids," she declared as they composed 
 themselves after the play over a cup of tea. "I blame it 
 on Ruth Chatterton. The book itself just made me laugh." 
 
 "I wonder !" said Charles, and told her of his experience 
 with his father at The Blue Bird. "Don't you think there 
 is something elemental in most of us which no veneer of 
 civilization or artificial living can ever deaden? A great 
 actor can take us out of our shells, and bring us back to 
 our primitive natures. I believe after all it's a good thing 
 to know you have a heart, that you are a man, not merely 
 a tailor's dummy." 
 
 "Don't you worry about that," she answered. "You are 
 quite human enough for me." 
 
 She had promised to be home for supper, and Kelly 
 was to pick up Charles at the Chicago Athletic, so their 
 rendezvous had to end, but not till they had come to feel 
 nearer in spirit to each other than ever before. 
 
 Kelly breezed in upon him just a few minutes after he 
 had arrived at the Club. 
 
 "Got an idea," he exclaimed. "You'll need some training 
 for that dance at the Moraine, and we got to post you 
 on Chicago styles. I'm going to take you to the College
 
 2<5o DRUMS AFAR 
 
 Inn to-night to dinner it's a regular sharpshooter's joint. 
 I'll phone to mother to join us. Viola of course can't leave 
 the house." 
 
 "Is 'sharpshooter's joint' a sort of Mothers' Meeting?" 
 asked Charles. 
 
 "Not exactly," said Kelly laughing. "What I mean is 
 that it is a place for swell dancers. What mother will 
 appreciate is the skating they have a rink there as well as 
 a dance floor it's the livest spot in town." 
 
 So to the College Inn they went. 
 
 "A liberal education," murmured Charles, as he saw the 
 diners, slender and stout, middle-aged and youthful, rise 
 from perfectly good food to glide and sway around to 
 syncopated music in each other's arms. 
 
 The somewhat sombre background in this underworld of 
 dark oak and square pillars accentuated the joyousness of 
 dress and curve of figure. Charles had by this time learned 
 enough about the twostep and other such modern dances 
 to realize that Mike was right in claiming these as ex- 
 perts. 
 
 "Is this," he asked, with a shade of malice, "a post-grad- 
 uate or merely a University Extension class in Cabaretics? 
 Are these included in your seven thousand registered stu- 
 dents?" 
 
 "Sir Christopher Hatton," replied Kelly, "is said to have 
 been made Lord Chancellor of England by Queen Elizabeth 
 because of his skill in dancing, and in the same way Charles 
 Fitzmorris may find preferment with Good Queen Made- 
 line." 
 
 Charles's retort was interrupted by the appearance of two 
 gaily dressed skaters on the rink of artificial ice which had 
 been the happy thought of the restaurateur. Here in swel- 
 tering midsummer Chicago could get the suggestion of cool 
 winter, and over creme de menthe frappee watch this most 
 exhilarating of outdoor sports. Under a striped awning, a 
 bright succession of Scandinavians waltzed and twirled and 
 pirouetted and cut miraculous figures till the eyes were
 
 DRUMS AFAR 261 
 
 dazed with the intricacy of their movements and the glare 
 of ice and the kaleidoscope of colour. 
 
 Then the dancing on the floor recommenced, and Charles's 
 brain was busy once again studying the niceties of style 
 which he saw gave grace and distinction to steps otherwise 
 banal.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 NEXT morning's papers were heavy with import. 
 Russia had called a huge army to the colours and 
 suspended diplomatic intercourse with Austro- 
 Hungary. Mr. Asquith had emphasized in the 
 House of Commons the gravity of the situation. 
 
 The echoes of the European conflict grew louder in Chi- 
 cago. Wheat rose to a dollar and Austrian subjects re- 
 ceived their call to the colours. Austrians and Serbs em- 
 ployed in the steel mills at Joliet were clashing in street 
 fights with stone throwing and revolver shots. 
 
 There were 50,000 Slavs in Chicago, according to the 
 Herald, and 500,000 of German birth or extraction. An- 
 other paper said there were 125,000 Poles, and that over 
 1,000,000 spoke some other language than English. What 
 would happen if Germany came into the war? At one hotel 
 alone forty Austrian and German waiters were subject to 
 military service in Europe. Were they not typical of the 
 rest? Could they stay quiet when their homes across 
 the seas were aflame? Surely the Americans were lulling 
 themselves into a false security. The torch that was to 
 blaze in Europe would also flare upon the streets and fields 
 of Illinois. 
 
 In spite of Madeline's reassurance that the foreigners in 
 Chicago would remain indifferent, Charles was not per- 
 suaded. There might be truth in Joseph Chamberlain's dic- 
 tum that "the naturalized alien is the most ardent patriot," 
 but the immigration into the United States had come so 
 fast that how many had time to ask for naturalization 
 papers ? 
 
 At a mass meeting in Pilsen Hall, Bohemians had climbed 
 to the rafters and torn down a shield emblazoned with the 
 double eagle while three thousand men and women stood 
 
 262
 
 DRUMS AFAR 263 
 
 on their seats and cheered. "To Hell with Austria" was the 
 motto on their banners, and they had passed a resolution 
 of sympathy with the Servian nation. Servians at St. Louis 
 were reported to be drilling, and all over the country im- 
 mense rallies were announced. 
 
 Mike was busy on an important case, but Charles said 
 he would get all the entertainment he desired if they would 
 let him wander alone through the streets of Chicago and 
 improve his knowledge of the United States. It was not 
 in the clubs, on the golf-courses, at the dainty restaurants, at 
 the matinee, he said to himself, that one felt the pulse of 
 the people. There must be an underworld of workers to 
 account for this uppercrust of spenders, an underworld to 
 whom the only common language was the dollar paid as 
 wage. 
 
 In the Loop, business seemed brisk as ever, though the 
 hurrying passers-by snatched up the war-sheets advertised 
 in flaming contents-bills and by their raucous vendors. The 
 only noticeable crowd was in South Clark Street opposite 
 the Post Office. 
 
 "Steamship Office," answered a policeman to Charles's 
 question. "Poor suckers of Serbians trying to get berths 
 to Europe. Guess they'd be wise to stay where they are." 
 
 Charles crossed the street to see them closer fine looking 
 fellows, most of them with clothes such as would be worn 
 only on Sundays by a well-paid English mechanic. Chicago 
 had treated them well. Most of them spoke a fair American 
 English. They were talking hard too, discussing the scare- 
 heads that thundered their startling messages across the 
 front pages of the war editions. 
 
 "They'll never get there," cynically remarked a bystander 
 who, like Charles, had pressed forward to look at them. 
 
 "Why not?" asked Charles. 
 
 "War will be over. Austria will have gobbled up Servia 
 in three weeks. This is a game put up by those steamship 
 pirates." 
 
 The news was certainly disturbing. Russia was told by 
 Germany that she must explain her mobilization within
 
 264 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 twenty-four hours. The reserve officers of the Guards 
 Army Corps at Berlin were ordered to mobilize, and pre- 
 paratory orders for the mobilization of the whole German 
 army issued. Every military preparation short of mobiliza- 
 tion had been taken by France. Great Britain too was 
 moving. She had called up her special army reservists 
 electricians, military engineers and minelayers, and had 
 sent out her Fleet to an unknown destination under sealed 
 orders. Prices in Wall Street were somersaulting, and in 
 Chicago itself wheat shot up to a dollar, though dealings 
 were said to be small. 
 
 The six hours difference in time between London and 
 Chicago seemed to make the news more red hot. 
 
 Yet apart from these foreign wage-earners called back 
 to the ranks, Chicago appeared almost indifferent. Feeling 
 hungry, Charles stepped into the Kaiserhof for luncheon, a 
 restaurant evidently as German as its name to judge by 
 the menu and the conversation of its guests. Yet it showed 
 no more excitement than the Gambrinus he remembered off 
 Piccadilly Circus. Every one was talking loudly, but the 
 Germans always did talk loudly. The table at the left was 
 arguing about the price of a consignment of manicure 
 sets. The man on his right was complaining to a suspi- 
 ciously fair lady about the effect of weather on his appe- 
 tite. Behind him two impresarios were debating the virtue 
 of a well-known operatic star. The Kaiser was evidently as 
 far away as Potsdam was. 
 
 Reading an editorial in the Herald, Charles found the 
 solution. 
 
 "The United States to-day is in a better position than any 
 of the great powers of the world ... It comes from a 
 constant adherence to the spirit and the letter of the weighty 
 counsel of George Washington that we should have no 'en- 
 tangling alliances' . . . The outstanding fact of the Ameri- 
 can situation to-day is that we don't want war and there 
 is no probability of our having it ... How different it 
 would be if we had an offensive and defensive alliance with 
 England or any other great nation or group of nations!
 
 DRUMS AFAR 265 
 
 What anxiety all over the country! . . . We realize that a 
 great principle has been handed down to us that is worth 
 millions in men, billions in money." 
 
 That accounted for their complacency. German might 
 be their language, but the ghost of George Washington was 
 their breastplate. What had a European war to do with 
 them? 
 
 That afternoon he spent in making further acquaintance 
 with the intricate complexity of Chicago departmental 
 stores, walking back for exercise the whole of the way to 
 Evanston. 
 
 How far off seemed the war as he watched the children 
 playing in Lincoln Park, and how far off again as he saw 
 the thousands and tens of thousands of bathers flooding 
 the streets that led to the beaches of Lake Michigan with a 
 tide of various stages of dishabille! The surf which had 
 lashed the shore for the last three days had abated, and 
 from every dwelling and apartment house in this suburban 
 warren, old and young, dark and fair, streamed out in in- 
 exhaustible humanity towards the enticing waters. 
 
 Hardly had he entered the Kelly's house when the tele- 
 phone rang. It was Madeline. 
 
 "Charles, dear, what is the matter with you ? You passed 
 our house without looking to see if I was at the window. 
 I was, and I waved to you, but you took no notice." 
 
 "I'm so sorry I must have been absent-minded " 
 
 "Well, if that isn't the limit ! I suppose you'll forget you 
 are coming with us to Ravinia Park to-morrow." 
 
 "Forget? When I have been looking forward to it all 
 the week ? " 
 
 "All right, old boy. I was only joking. But don't pass 
 the house again without looking up. Write us a line to- 
 night. Till to-morrow!" 
 
 Write her a line ? 
 
 He wrote her thirty pages, the contents of which any 
 reader of the gentler sex who has been loved to distrac- 
 tion for ever so short a time by an impressionable youth 
 with a reasonable command of the English language can
 
 266 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 imagine, and probably find the duplicate tied round with 
 blue ribbon and hid away in the little case which passes 
 for a jewel box. 
 
 "For Chicago and vicinity" read Mike from his newspaper 
 as Charles entered the breakfast-room next morning, "Un- 
 settled weather to-day and to-morrow, probably with show- 
 ers ; somewhat higher temperature to-day ; moderately vari- 
 able winds." 
 
 "And what's the news from Europe?" 
 
 Mike turned back from the weather report to the front 
 page. 
 
 "All Europe is arming. Serbs and Austrians in Battle. 
 War steps are taken by Britain gee whilikins ! the naval 
 boom across Portsmouth was put down at eleven o'clock 
 last night that looks like business Dover harbour cleared 
 of all shipping " 
 
 His mouth tightened as he read down the column. 
 
 "Here you are, Fitz," he said handing over the paper. 
 "You can probably size it up better than I can. It looks 
 nasty to me." 
 
 A cable from the Times said briefly that naval and mili- 
 tary measures of a precautionary defensive character were 
 being carried out quietly and calmly throughout the British 
 Empire! The actual steps taken it would be unpatriotic 
 to mention it would be highly improper to do otherwise 
 than maintain a discreet silence about the disposition of 
 ships, the activity in the dockyards, the movement of 
 coastguards and soldiers, or the work of replenishing the 
 stores of munitions of war. 
 
 Viola read over his shoulder. 
 
 "Does this mean war for England?" she said, half gasp- 
 ing as she sank back into a chair. "How monstrous ! How 
 can Parliament allow the country to be dragged in ? A Lib- 
 eral Government too but Grey and Asquith were always 
 Tories at heart! Oh, if only the women had the vote, 
 there would never be any war!" 
 
 "Let's forget it till it happens," said Mike, determined 
 to be cheerful. "If any news comes out, I'll telephone from
 
 DRUMS AFAR 267 
 
 the office and keep you posted. In the meanwhile don't 
 let the eggs go cold." 
 
 In spite of Kelly's forced gaiety, it was a relief to 
 Charles when they rose from the table and dispersed. Mike 
 left the paper behind, and eagerly did Charles read every 
 word pertaining to the European situation. Then, to pass 
 the time, he commenced a letter to his father, when shortly 
 after ten o'clock the telephone rang. 
 
 "Hello hello that you, Charles? Mike speaking. New 
 York Stock Exchange closed; London set the example 
 this morning." 
 
 "What! The London Stock Exchange!" 
 
 "Yes, old man A. P. message. If you want to cable 
 your father, give it to me over the phone. I can send it 
 quicker from here." 
 
 "Just this," said Charles thickly. "Shall I come home?, 
 and sign it Charles, giving the address." 
 
 "All right, old man," came Kelly's voice sympathetically. 
 "That'll go this time." 
 
 Charles turned to find Viola listening. 
 
 "Oh, you mustn't go you mustn't!" she said, and burst 
 into tears. 
 
 "Why not?" he said, taking her arm and leading her to 
 the sofa. "Father may want me. I've no right to stay 
 here if he does this probably means ruin to him." 
 
 "What is ruin compared to life," she exclaimed. "War 
 like this one means that every man must fight. Oh, can't 
 you see how fortunate you are to be on this side why 
 go back into the lion's den?" 
 
 "Rubbish !" he said reassuringly, but at the same time 
 was startled by the thought. "England has her navy it 
 is France and Russia that will have to fight on land." 
 
 But "poor Frank," was all she would say, "poor Frank !" 
 
 Just then a faint cry came from the nursery, and Charles 
 was unfeignedly relieved when Viola left the room. 
 
 "She has been high-strung ever since baby was born," 
 explained Mrs. Kelly, "and imagines things. She will be 
 all right after a little."
 
 268 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "I think I'll go downtown," said Charles. "I'm too im- 
 patient to wait for the news here. If the answer to the 
 cable conies before I get back, phone it to Mike's office." 
 
 Secretly he had resolved to go to Cook's, whose office 
 he had noticed, and book, or at least reserve his passage, in 
 case of accidents. Before leaving he hesitated whether he 
 should speak first to Madeline and warn her of his possible 
 change in plans, then decided he had better not disturb her. 
 He did not want another scene like that with Viola. As 
 he drove in his taxi past the Raymonds' house, he did not 
 forget this time to look up at the window, but she was 
 not there, and somehow he was glad. She might have 
 stopped him and then he might have had to tell. 
 
 Cook's office was thronged with an agitated crowd anxious 
 to get in touch with or send money to relatives in Europe. 
 The clerks were polite but unhappy, and Charles saw little 
 chance of so much as catching the eye of one of them. For- 
 tunately, as he stood disconsolate and somewhat apart, he 
 attracted the attention of the manager who happened to 
 return just then from a conference in another office. 
 
 Beckoning to Charles, he led him into his private room 
 and offered him a chair and a cigar. There was a pleasant 
 friendly look, not without humour, in the eyes of this rather 
 baldheaded fellow with the dark moustache. 
 
 "You are evidently an Englishman like myself," he said. 
 "What can I do for you?" 
 
 "You can book me a passage back home," answered 
 Charles, "that is, subject to my getting a cable which I 
 expect to-day or to-morrow." 
 
 "Glad to hear of anything that is not a cancellation," 
 remarked the other with a smile. "Here is something just 
 vacated on the Victorian upper promenade deck outside 
 cabin leaves Quebec on Tuesday." 
 
 "Oh, a Canadian boat," objected Charles "Haven't you 
 anything out of New York?" 
 
 "Why yes, but from Chicago it is just as quick to go by 
 way of the St. Lawrence, and it's a shorter sea-voyage." 
 
 "I'd rather not," said Charles. "Candidly I never was
 
 DRUMS AFAR 269 
 
 keen on Canadians at least English Canadians. They al- 
 ways seem so self-assertive." 
 
 "Over here," replied the other, "you have to be self-as- 
 sertive if you wish to get anywhere. However, there are 
 lots of British ships leaving New York next week, or there 
 is a French line boat next Wednesday all the German 
 lines went out of business this morning." 
 
 "The deuce they did ! Then it means " 
 
 "Yes, it means " 
 
 They looked at each other with an understanding which 
 needed no words. 
 
 Ultimately, they fixed on the Celtic, subject to confirma- 
 tion next morning. 
 
 "I've done it now," said Charles to himself as he 
 stepped out of the office. "What will Madeline say when 
 she hears !" 
 
 "Keep cool," said Mike as Charles entered the office, his 
 face still flushed. "The weather report was wrong. It's 
 going to be one hell of a hot day eighty in the shade 
 already. New York is not so badly hit as at first sup- 
 posed. Only one assignment due to stocks, the other three 
 were cotton. Guess they did the right thing to prevent a 
 panic." 
 
 When Charles told him what he had done, Mike framed 
 his lips into a whistle. 
 
 "You certainly haven't lost time," he said. "Does Miss 
 Raymond know?" 
 
 "Not yet." 
 
 "My dear Charles, do you know that it is only one's wife 
 that one may treat as if she did not count. Miss Raymond 
 is your fiancee. Joking apart, don't you think you should 
 have consulted her ?" 
 
 Charles realized his remissness, and looked as miserable 
 as he felt. 
 
 "What shall I do ?" he asked. 
 
 "Trust to luck," replied Kelly. "If the cable says you 
 need not come, you can own up to it some time in the 
 moonlight when she feels good. But girls are queer ducks,
 
 270 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 and it doesn't do to take too much for granted. If I 
 were you, I should find out just as soon as possible how 
 she would take it if you did have to go." 
 
 All that day, Charles was too excited to go anywhere or 
 do anything except buy each edition of each newspaper as 
 it came on the street, poring over the war news and the 
 articles dealing with the situation both in Europe and the 
 United States. 
 
 "Come and see Charlie Chaplin at a movie," urged Mike, 
 "and forget the war for an hour." 
 
 But Charles could not be persuaded. Every moment the 
 thought reverberated as a roaring undercurrent through all 
 other thoughts. "What will happen to Father? what will 
 happen to Father ?" and he had before him the picture of 
 the study at Richmond as on the night when Charles had 
 told his plans. 
 
 As soon as they returned home, Mrs. Kelly suggested to 
 Charles that he should ring up Madeline Raymond. 
 
 "She has telephoned about this evening at least three times 
 to-day. I'm sure it was really you she wished to speak 
 to." 
 
 Charles lost no time in following her advice. 
 
 "Hello, Charles," came the answer. "Wherever have you 
 been all day? I have had such a narrow escape and was 
 dying to tell you all about it." 
 
 "Not hurt, I hope," he asked anxiously. 
 
 "No, no not an accident. But say, it'll have to wait now 
 till this evening. We've sent the maids on ahead to Lake 
 Geneva, and I'm cooking the dinner just now but this 
 morning I nearly went off my head with excitement. I 
 never should have taken such a step without telling you 
 about it first, or Father, or somebody. It will be a lesson 
 to me for the future. Good-bye." 
 
 What could have been the matter? Charles's curiosity 
 was properly aroused and even to some extent obscured 
 his anxiety about his father. Just then the door-bell rang, 
 and a messenger delivered the cable.
 
 DRUMS AFAR 271 
 
 Mike and his mother hovered round to hear the mes- 
 sage. 
 
 "Stay where you are credit still good all well father" 
 
 "What a relief !" exclaimed Charles. 
 
 "That father of yours is a real fellow," said Mike, "and 
 no fool either, if he got out in time." 
 
 A very much more cheerful Charles partook of supper 
 that evening and stepped into the car in which Mike was 
 to drive them to Ravinia Park. Madeline was ravishingly 
 beautiful and in equally high spirits, but elected to sit beside 
 the driver, so that he was still denied the story of the 
 escape. They drove in a regular procession of cars through 
 Winnetka and Glencoe, through an area of woods and ra- 
 vines into a branch road which led into the Park. Charm- 
 ingly laid out with beds of flowers and green swards shaded 
 with fine trees, this pleasaunce culminated in an open-air 
 auditorium where the well-to-do suburban dwellers listened 
 of a summer afternoon or evening to symphony concerts and 
 grand opera. Sufficient roof was provided to ward off every 
 disturbing element except the insidious mosquito, which by 
 this time of year was fortunately less aggressive than 
 earlier in July. The greenery of the surrounding trees, the 
 dark blue of the set background, the gaiety of the Spanish 
 costumes on the stage, the gleam of white shoulders and 
 luxurious dresses in the audience all made a rich setting 
 to the music they had come to hear. 
 
 Madeline manoeuvred Charles into the seat on her left, 
 with Kelly and her mother on her right and her father 
 with Mrs. Kelly on the extreme flank. As soon as the 
 orchestra struck up, she began to whisper her story, and 
 though the people in front kept turning round and looking 
 daggers at her nothing could stop her. 
 
 "Charles," she said, "I was in a dreadful fix last night 
 when I spoke to you over the phone, but somehow I had not 
 the nerve to tell you about it. I don't know what possessed 
 me to do what I did, but it seemed such a safe gamble that
 
 272 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 I could not resist. You see all the papers said that the 
 market had reached rockbottom, and stocks were ripe for 
 recovery, so I went long on Reading " 
 
 "You went what?" exclaimed Charles in astonishment. 
 
 "Long on Reading the railway stock just a little flut- 
 ter; and to be perfectly safe, on a twenty point margin 
 just a hundred shares, but it meant two thousand dollars, 
 all I had to my account. Well, you know Thursday was 
 blue ruin, and in the afternoon my broker " 
 
 "Your broker?" . \ 
 
 "Yes, my broker why shouldn't I have a broker? rang 
 up to say that if I didn't put up my margin to forty by the 
 first post this morning he would sell me out as soon as the 
 New York Stock Exchange opened, and close my account. 
 Think of that from a friend; he used to call himself my 
 friend, give me flowers and candies and take me to the 
 theatre that was before I went to Europe and before he 
 got married. I never had such a shock in my life. I 
 could not raise the money myself on such short notice; 
 I daren't tell father he had forbidden me to buy stocks 
 on margin " 
 
 "Good for him!" interjected Charles. 
 
 "Mother couldn't help. Indeed she was in just as tight 
 a corner as I was myself; anyway, she kept looking into 
 her jewel box and slipped downtown late in the afternoon 
 with the pearl necklace she is wearing to-night she has 
 just got it back again. Well, I never slept a wink all night, 
 thinking the crash must come. I didn't even dare to come 
 down to breakfast nor did mother, we just sat and cried 
 together when just about ten-thirty the telephone rang with 
 the lovely news you saw it didn't you? that the New 
 York Stock Exchange never opened at all, so he couldn't 
 sell us out. My goodness, how happy I was ! Mother and 
 I danced round the room together and then I thought I 
 would call you up and confess to you. But you had left 
 the house, and I didn't like to ask where you had gone 
 for fear Mrs. Kelly should think me inquisitive." 
 
 Amazed as Charles was at this story, told with a vivacity
 
 DRUMS AFAR 273 
 
 that left him no eyes or ears for the opera itself, he was 
 also secretly relieved at the thought that Madeline also had 
 taken chances without first consulting him. It absolved 
 him from any urgency in telling her about his visit to 
 Cook's, although he thought it only right to show her the 
 cable from his father. This resulted in further agitated 
 whispers which continued right to the end of the first act. 
 
 During the interval, they all rose to walk about in the 
 gardens. Mr. Raymond took his daughter's arm, while 
 Charles entertained the mother. They followed Madeline 
 and her father near enough to overhear the drift of con- 
 versation. 
 
 "Your conduct this evening," Mr. Raymond was saying, 
 "has been outrageous. Couldn't you see the people turning 
 round and looking at you? I wonder that some one did 
 not ask you to be quiet. It was impossible for any one 
 near you to enjoy the music while you kept whispering so. 
 I can't understand how you, with your expensive musical 
 education, could behave so inconsiderately. If the music 
 had been Wagner, I shouldn't have minded so much, but it 
 was Bizet and Carmen."
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 AT last the day broke on which Charles was once 
 more to share the same roof as his charmer. The 
 morning papers showed that war with France and 
 Russia against Germany and Austria was inev- 
 itable, England being a possible and even probable fifth ; but 
 with his father's reassuring cable war meant less now than 
 the disturbing element of love, which fired his heart and 
 filled his whole being with a sweet unrest. Just about the 
 time when Emperor William was signing his declaration of 
 war on Russia, President Poincare was proclaiming mobiliz- 
 ation of the entire French army, Austrian monitors were 
 bombarding Belgrade, and the first shots were being ex- 
 changed between German and Russian patrols, Charles was 
 enjoying the luxury of an American face massage, and a 
 superlative shave, taking these precautions in case an op- 
 portunity should present itself of kissing Madeline, and as- 
 suming that she would prefer to have her own very soft 
 cheeks touched by a well-groomed face rather than a rough 
 one. 
 
 At three thirty, the Raymonds called for him in a large 
 touring car. Madeline herself was driving, superb in a 
 motor-coat of chamois skin with sable collar and cuffs 
 matched by a sable cap. Mrs. Raymond reclined in a more 
 vivid blue. According to instructions Charles had sent 
 his trunk ahead by train to Lake Geneva, so that there 
 was ample room for himself and his smaller belongings. He 
 was about to take the seat facing the elder Raymonds, 
 when Madeline beckoned him beside her, and so off they 
 went. She proved herself a skilful driver, and if he had not 
 seen the speedometer he could hardly have imagined the 
 thirty miles an hour at which they travelled. 
 "When did you learn to drive?" he asked. 
 
 274
 
 DRUMS AFAR 275 
 
 "As soon as I made up my mind to go to Europe," she 
 replied. "Father kicked at the expense of the trip, so I 
 said he could fire the chauffeur and let me drive his car 
 instead for a year. That saved him a thousand dollars and 
 did me a lot of good. I came to think that if I failed as a 
 singer, I could get a job acting for the movies just watch 
 me pass that car." 
 
 With his heart in his mouth, he saw her purr round a 
 limousine at fifty. Fortunately for his peace of mind, they 
 had only a few miles to go to Highland Park, but as they 
 did an outside edge up to the portico of the hotel he won- 
 dered how many other accomplishments Madeline on more 
 intimate acquaintance would reveal. 
 
 Mr. Raymond had secured for them a suite of rooms in 
 the South Annex and Mrs. Raymond suggested tea in their 
 private porch. 
 
 "Oh no!" protested Madeline. "It's much more fun 
 in the regular tea-room." 
 
 So there they went. 
 
 "Certainly attractive," said Charles on being asked to 
 admire. 
 
 Large sunny windows lit up the coffee-coloured lattice 
 roof, while the woodwork and pillars were also painted 
 coffee-colour with blue edges. Chairs with blue ladder- 
 backs and basket lamps hanging from chains with old gold 
 shades added their distinctive note. 
 
 A self-consciously smart crowd of earlier arrivals scruti- 
 nized them as they entered, but Madeline and Mrs. Ray- 
 mond were too fresh from Paris to be disconcerted. Made- 
 line indeed made most of them look dowdy. 
 
 As they were ordering tea, some friends of Mrs. Ray- 
 mond came across the room to gush their welcome back 
 to America, taking the opportunity to present two officers 
 to Madeline. These at once endeavoured to secure her 
 promise of dances that evening, but she was politely evasive. 
 They had hitherto ignored the presence of the unknown 
 Englishman and, now that they suspected his possible sig- 
 nificance, Charles, who was master of the art of looking
 
 276 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 through any one to whom he had not been introduced, was 
 highly entertained. 
 
 Stepping out after tea on to the Terrace, Madeline and 
 Charles left the elder Raymonds to watch the tennis while 
 they themselves went to investigate the beach. This was 
 reached by a path through the woods, and it required no 
 lovers' eyes to discover admirable opportunities for quiet 
 strolls through such shady ravines. In the meanwhile the 
 allurements of the sandy beach proved irresistible, and be- 
 fore many minutes were over they were down under the 
 bluff in the water with twenty or thirty others, swimming 
 and splashing and luxuriating in the cool freshness of Lake 
 Michigan's sunlit waters. 
 
 If Madeline could drive a car, Charles could swim, and 
 the ease and grace with which he moved through the water 
 showed Madeline that the man she had given her heart to 
 was master of at least one sport. 
 
 "I wish you would teach me that stroke," she said, after 
 she had proved his speed by challenging him to a race in 
 which she was hopelessly defeated. The play of muscles 
 in his arms, and the supple well-knit breast and shoulders 
 fascinated her, and she made him go through the motions 
 again and again, half for the pleasure of watching him. He 
 in turn was not displeased at this chance of showing off, 
 and the interval to dinner passed before they knew. 
 
 Almost at the last swim, her bathing cap fell off, and 
 her dark coils of hair unfolded and floated on the surface. 
 With a cry of dismay she stood up to retrieve it, waist high 
 in water, but so long were the tresses that they must surely 
 have otherwise fallen to her knees. Behind her was a fair- 
 haired Scandinavian, and for the first time Charles realized 
 how dark was Madeline's skin. The graceful curve of her 
 arms as she caught up and tried to replace the tresses, 
 and the profile of her firm deep bosom was a picture of en- 
 chanting beauty. As she turned her eyes to him half 
 laughing, half distressful asking him for assistance, and he 
 slipped his fingers through the soft silken glory, it took all
 
 DRUMS AFAR 277 
 
 his self-control to keep from catching her in his arms and 
 covering her face with kisses. 
 
 ''You little witch!" he whispered. "You little witch!" 
 
 Only three weeks ago he would have shied at the mere 
 thought of a dance. Now he grudged every moment of 
 delay till the orchestra struck up in the ball-room. The 
 remembrance of those delicious moments on the deck of 
 the St. Louis, when he could place his arm around Made- 
 line's waist, inhale the fragrance which pervaded her cos- 
 tume, feel the pressure and yielding of her body in the 
 rhythm of poise and motion, thrill at the touch of her hair, 
 at the upward glance of her eyes, at the low music of her 
 voice, fired his blood with amorous intoxication. He left 
 so much of dinner untouched that Mrs. Raymond grew con- 
 cerned about his health, and Madeline, fearing too early a 
 revelation, spoke quite sharply to cover his indiscretion. 
 
 Though Madeline spoke sharply, her time came later when 
 Charles swung her out into the first dance. Whether it was 
 that he had caught new inspiration from the experts at 
 the College Inn, or whether the floor, the orchestra, the 
 atmosphere tuned him to more delicate sympathy with his 
 partner, these two glided as one being and the pause in 
 the music came almost as a shock. Again it commenced, 
 and again they were in dreams, too soon to be broken. 
 
 "Who has been teaching you?" she asked, as they re- 
 turned to their table. "On the St. Louis you made a good 
 beginning, at Newport you were possible, but now I never 
 wish to have a better partner. Is this one of your friend 
 Mike's surprises? Has he made you take lessons?" 
 
 "I may never be able to do it again," said Charles, "or I 
 may have fallen into the knack of it." 
 
 Mrs. Raymond took him in hand for the next dance, and 
 though less perfect, he acquitted himself to her satisfac- 
 tion. Then again he was with Madeline, and again she 
 found her perfect mate. 
 
 "It was heavenly," she sighed at the close. "Another 
 turn round the room and I should have done something 
 foolish."
 
 278 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "What would that have been ?" he asked ingenuously, and 
 then looking into her eyes wished they were in one of those 
 shady ravines. 
 
 Others had noticed how well they danced, and both Made- 
 line and Mrs. Raymond were effusively hailed by more or 
 less remote acquaintances, working up to an introduction to 
 this accomplished Englishman. One of these could not be 
 evaded, and Charles found himself revolving with a slightly 
 Hebraic beauty of German name, exchanging glances of 
 commiseration with Madeline who was evidently toe-trodden 
 by a stout but energetic brewer. Charles's partner at the 
 rate of a hundred and forty to a hundred and sixty words 
 a minute poured out the story of her young life without 
 leaving an interval for more than a monosyllabic return. 
 Then came the pause, the clapping of hands, the gracious 
 consent of the orchestra to go on. After that she broke 
 new ground with the question : 
 
 "Aren't the bulletins exciting ?" 
 
 "Which bulletins?" he asked. 
 
 "The war bulletins pasted up in the hall about the 
 latest developments.. Well, I am surprised that an English- 
 man should take so little interest in the war." 
 
 "Let's go and see them," he said, grasping at the ex- 
 cuse. 
 
 "They can wait," she replied, loath to lose a single step. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Raymond were tempted to a game of 
 bridge, and Madeline and Charles did not hesitate to excuse 
 them. 
 
 "Next dance is mine," said Charles when they had gone, 
 "and the next and all the rest to the end of the evening." 
 
 "Do you love me so much," she replied, "or is this the 
 reaction from Abraham, Isaac and Jacob ?" 
 
 "It was you that introduced me," he murmured as they 
 took the floor. 
 
 "Business before pleasure," replied this astonishing girl. 
 "Her father gives my father twenty thousand dollar or- 
 ders. If you want to see much more of me this evening,
 
 DRUMS AFAR 279 
 
 we shall have to find a refuge outside this room. She has 
 her eye on you, and the account is large." 
 
 "So are the woods," said Charles. "Now or never." 
 
 When they had found a natural secluded arbour, he asked : 
 
 "When shall I ever be able to fathom you? Every day 
 you show a new side to your character." 
 
 "When shall I ever be able to fathom myself?" she 
 replied. "You have seven hundred and thirty-two qualities 
 against which I have a prejudice, and yet you sweep me off 
 my feet, simply because you can dance. Yes," she con- 
 tinued, holding her hand up teasingly against her cheek 
 to thwart an attempt to kiss her, "it isn't because you are 
 an Oxford man that I love you, but because you have the 
 makings of another Vernon Castle." 
 
 "Then you do admit you love me," he said, gently but 
 firmly removing the protesting hand. 
 
 She struggled for a while, but he would not be denied, 
 and at last her face lay unresistingly against his while he 
 pressed her to his heart. So it was for a minute or so, 
 when the flood-gates of her soul suddenly burst open. She 
 flung her arms round his neck and her lips clung to his 
 with passionate kisses. 
 
 "I believe I'm still a savage," she whispered, as she drew 
 back panting for breath. 
 
 As for Charles, he said : 
 
 "I believe I would like you better as a savage than as a 
 citified sophisticated Chicago girl. It is this raw primal 
 nature that has bridged the ocean and the three hundred 
 years between us. My God, how beautiful you are !"
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 FROM the Moraine to Lake Geneva the nominal dis- 
 tance was fifty miles, but Madeline somehow missed 
 a turning and they were nearly three hours on the 
 trip. The deviation, however, enabled Charles to 
 see more of the country, and in that summer air the country 
 was particularly beautiful. To his surprise, for he had 
 expected to see wild uncultivated prairies, there was hardly 
 a field which lacked its crop oats, maize, potatoes, barley, 
 wheat or timothy hay waving dark purple through his 
 orange-tinted motor-glasses, though more like lilac to the 
 naked eye. These fields of hay smelt wonderfully sweet 
 they knew they were coming to the timothy almost before 
 it was in sight. 
 
 There seemed to be no limit to the motor cars they met 
 upon the road. Many of these carried large families, and 
 the further they were from Chicago, the larger the family. 
 
 Quite a number of lakes were passed, particularly as they 
 approached the rolling country of Wisconsin. From one 
 such lake they saw some small boys trail triumphantly with 
 a string of fish. There were fishing rods, too, flaying the 
 Fox River, and Mr. Raymond said something about "hatch- 
 eries," which at the rate they were going Charles found 
 difficult to catch. Trumpet lilies were growing wild by the 
 wayside, and they passed one clump of flaming red blossom 
 which he was told was Indian Paintbrush, and remembered 
 Viola's garden. One great tree with white blossom was 
 pointed out as "catalpa" and they saw more than one 
 cherry orchard ripe for the plucking. 
 
 The farmhouses were trim and tidy with barns painted 
 mostly red. Over all was an atmosphere of easy prosperous 
 comfort, which goes to market and gets a good price. If, 
 as the newspaper articles said, most of these farmers came 
 
 280
 
 DRUMS AFAR 281 
 
 originally from Europe, they had good reason to forget it. 
 
 The village of Lake Geneva, which itself appeared to be 
 composed chiefly of ice-cream parlours and phonographs, 
 swarmed this afternoon with week-enders, and the lake 
 itself near the village was alive with boats and bathers. 
 Afterwards came a quieter and more exclusive air, along 
 a road between which and the lake pretentious houses 
 domineered among the trees. These were the summer 
 homes of fortunate Chicagoans. 
 
 "First of all," said Madeline, "come the Great. A little 
 further on are the Near Great, and then come the Pretty 
 Well Fixed. That's where we belong." 
 
 At last they slowed up beside a clump of pine trees at 
 a rustic gate which opened into grounds guarded from the 
 road by a thick cedar hedge. A shaggy spaniel dashed up 
 the avenue towards them with wild yelps of delight, and 
 climbing into the seat Charles had vacated to open the gate 
 covered Madeline with doggy caresses. 
 
 "Dear old Melchizedek !" she exclaimed. "Did he think 
 we were never coming ?" 
 
 Fort Raymond was a glorified log-cabin, differing from 
 its humbler kind in the portico of cedar trunks and cedar 
 posts which propped the roof of its wide veranda. The 
 entrance door led into a spacious living-room lined with 
 cedar bark, and decorated with heads of moose, deer, bear 
 and wolves. Bear-skins were strewn as rugs on the polished 
 oak, and rough-hewn chairs and lounges covered with 
 deerskin were furniture in keeping. Over an open hearth 
 built of uncut stone two long-barrelled muskets were crossed 
 above a mounted salmon. On each end of the hearth were 
 racks of sporting rifles and rods. Facing the entrance 
 under the timbered ceiling hung a birchbark canoe, under 
 which again were skins of marten, lynx and beaver, while 
 opposite the fireplace was a glass-doored case flanked by 
 painted buffalo robes with shields, drums and baskets evi- 
 dently of Indian craft and giving to the room a note of 
 barbaric colour. 
 
 The bedroom to which Charles was shown was also lined
 
 282 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 with cedarbark, the bed itself being a wooden box filled 
 with cedar boughs closely set with top fronds uppermost, a 
 couch deliciously soft and fragrant with forest incense. 
 Home-made shelves and pegs added their woodman's note, 
 though a half -open door revealed the more sophisticated 
 private bath, and the hanging lantern carried electric light. 
 
 On the wall facing the window an old map showed the 
 routes of exploration taken by the early pioneers and fur- 
 traders, Nicolet, Marquette, Father Hennepin and La Salle. 
 The window itself looked out over the lake, where Charles 
 could see a boathouse and a landing stage through a clearing 
 in the trees. 
 
 "Well, how do you find Fort Raymond?" asked his host 
 as Charles re-entered the hall. 
 
 "It reads like a page out of Fenimore Cooper brought up 
 to date. Where do you keep the scalps?" 
 
 "Mostly in Madeline's cupboard," replied Mr. Raymond, 
 placing his arm affectionately round his daughter's waist. 
 "She is quite a warrior. Coming down to animals, some 
 of those heads are her trophies for instance that buck 
 over there and the bearskin at your feet she's a dandy 
 shot, and I can tell you I missed her in Europe when I had 
 to go hunting all by my lonesome. How about you?" 
 
 "Never fired a shot, and have not fished since I was 
 a boy," confessed Charles. Then to Madeline, "You never 
 told me that you hunted." 
 
 "You never asked," she answered merrily. "I never 
 met a man who took so much for granted." 
 
 "Well, we can soon mend that, can't we, Madeline?" 
 said Mr. Raymond heartily. "I tell you, Mr. Fitzmorris, 
 that girl of mine casts a prettier fly than half a dozen 
 men. Give her a five-ounce rod, a sunny sky not too near 
 noon, and a light breeze, and she will raise the devil." 
 
 "Go easy, Father," protested the lady, blushing. "You 
 know it was you that taught me." 
 
 "Well, we'll have a competition, and Mr. Fitzmorris can 
 choose his teacher from the two of us. I'll wager a hundred 
 dollars he won't choose me."
 
 DRUMS AFAR 283 
 
 The words though spoken blandly sent a thrill through 
 Charles. Had Madeline broached their affair? Was this 
 a hint? 
 
 Passing over this uncertain ice, he raised another ques- 
 tion. 
 
 "You surely did not get these trophies here ? Is not this 
 country too closely settled for hunting?" 
 
 "Here!" Mr. Raymond smiled. "Not by a long chalk. 
 Most of these were shot in Canada or Northern Wisconsin 
 except that grizzly from Wyoming though fifty years 
 ago we could get all the game we wanted twenty miles 
 from this very spot, and a hundred years ago there were 
 more wolves than humans between Geneva Lake and 
 Chicago this was Big Foot Lake then, an Indian camping 
 ground. My great grandfather knew them well. He 
 trapped here till he settled down to farm a voyagew 
 there is his old birchbark canoe, and there in that case his 
 wolfskin casque and blanket capot, buckskin shirt and leg- 
 gings, ceinture, mocassins, snowshoes and axe. Over the 
 fire-place are two of his guns, there in the corner is my 
 grandmother's spinning wheel she was half French, half 
 Huron. 
 
 Charles rose from his chair to look more closely. 
 
 "And what is this, may I ask?" he said, pointing to a 
 uniform of blue jacket with bright buttons, light blue shirt, 
 loose red pantaloons, crimson cap and drab gaiters. "It 
 looks almost Zouave." 
 
 "Zouave it was Ellsworth's Zouaves days of the Civil 
 War my father Henry Raymond fought in C Company. 
 See that hole in the breast, there's where he was wounded 
 that made a wreck out of a strong man. Here is his badge, 
 a gold star shield with a tiger's head in the centre. This 
 daguerreotype shows how he looked the moustache and 
 goatee were worn by the Zouaves. You can't blame him 
 for joining them, seeing his father was Canadian French. 
 Yes, sir, I tell you he was a man, but war is a terrible 
 thing, and the strong suffer as much as, perhaps more, 
 than the weak."
 
 284 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 Alongside the Zouave uniform was a red tunic which to 
 Charles looked strangely British. 
 
 "British it is," said Mr. Raymond, "the first link our 
 family had with your folk." 
 
 At the word "first" Charles thrilled again was this 
 another hint? 
 
 "My great grandfather," continued Mr. Raymond, "wore 
 it in the war of 1814, just a hundred years ago, when 
 Colonel M'Kay brought down his Volunteers and Fencibles 
 from Mackinaw and captured old Fort Crawford close to 
 Prairie du Chien eighty miles west of here where the 
 Wisconsin River flows into the Mississippi. He was a fur- 
 trader, the Colonel, a Nor'Wester from Montreal, and his 
 force was made up mostly of traders and clerks and voya- 
 geurs, of whom Pierre Raymond was one. The Colonel 
 put even his Indians into red coats, so as to make the 
 Americans think he had a large body of regulars. Pierre 
 knew the trail, for he had trapped and hunted here, and 
 so too his father and grandfather before. Doggone it, I 
 tell you we have some ancestors." 
 
 "Supper is ready," interrupted Madeline. "The rest of 
 the family tree can wait." 
 
 The talk at supper centred largely round the hunting and 
 fishing trips that Madeline had taken with her father. They 
 were evidently used to roughing it, and were still children 
 of the woods. 
 
 "After supper," said Madeline to her father, "come down 
 to the lake shore and let's do a moose-call for Mr. Fitz- 
 morris. Oh, how I wish that September were here so that 
 we could get into the woods again. Charles dear, you 
 and I " 
 
 She stopped with a blush, realizing that she had betrayed 
 herself. Mrs. Raymond lifted her brows with an air of 
 surprise, but made no comment. Her husband looked at 
 Madeline quizzically. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "we'll go down to the lake, and then 
 Charles and I will have a heart to heart talk under the 
 stars."
 
 DRUMS AFAR 285 
 
 After such an intimation Charles found supper a trying 
 ordeal. What would be the decision? Surely it was 
 favourable. Twice Mr. Raymond had already thrown out 
 hints, and Madeline was comfortingly self-possessed. 
 
 They had been late in starting, so it was dusk when 
 supper ended and they stepped on the veranda. Mr. Ray- 
 mond asked them to wait till he had found his birchbark 
 horn, thus giving the young folk a minute alone. 
 
 "Don't worry," said Madeline quickly, catching Charles's 
 hand. "I told him everything this morning he is not 
 peeved, but said he would not say yes or no till to-night. I 
 did not tell Mother that's why she was surprised but 
 it's Father that counts. Dear old boy! Look out, here 
 he comes again!" 
 
 As they walked down the path towards the boat-house, 
 Mr. Raymond whistled softly to himself. Then looking 
 at the sky said, 
 
 "Old Bullmoose is still on the ridges. Shall we invite 
 him down eh, Madeline?" 
 
 She caught him eagerly by the arm. 
 
 "It's all up to you, Father," she said. 
 
 In a minute or so they were at the landing stage, and 
 under Mr. Raymond's direction took their seats in the 
 row-boat moored alongside. 
 
 "Now imagine yourself," he said, "hidden by the brush 
 at the edge of the stream. It flows sluggish here, and the 
 bank on the other side is the edge of a swamp. Imagine 
 it is a cold, frosty morning not a breath of air to ruffle the 
 water or carry our scent. Speak low, for Mr. Moose has 
 sharp ears. Listen, he is talking it sounds like a cough 
 he has a cow with him. Madeline, you give the call I 
 have the rifle." 
 
 Madeline took the horn, held it close to her mouth and 
 with both hands, bent her head, gave out a deep breath 
 almost like a sigh, then a sort of grunt, then a long guttural, 
 hollow wooden sound like 
 
 "W W Wa a a augh"
 
 286 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 After a minute or two of silence, 
 
 "Hear the branches cracking," whispered Mr. Raymond, 
 "that's the bull coming. He has heard and is travelling 
 fast." 
 
 Then a little later, 
 
 "He is watching us out of the bush there. Don't move. 
 He may come nearer. Say, there's the cow whining for 
 him. We may lose him. Give him another call." 
 
 Again Madeline gave the call; then dipped the horn in 
 the water, plopped an oar so as to imitate the sound of an 
 animal stepping into the stream, poured water from the 
 horn as if it were drinking all so realistically that with his 
 eyes shut Charles could have pictured it so. 
 
 Then after a few minutes more of tense silence, Mr. 
 Raymond said : 
 
 "Nothing doing. He has gone back to his first love. 
 Don't you hear him in the bush ? And now, young fellow," 
 turning round on Charles with exaggerated sternness, "what 
 in blazes have you been doing with my daughter P' 
 
 Charles, however, was by this time warned. 
 
 "Rather say," he replied, "what has your daughter been 
 doing with me? I noticed just now it was the cowmoose 
 that made the call, not the bull." 
 
 Mr. Raymond looked at him sharply, then at his daughter 
 who blushed, then laughed heartily. 
 
 "You win!" he said, holding out his hand. "Let's shake 
 on that. She certainly knows how to call. Well, I can't 
 expect to have her with me always she is old enough to 
 choose her own mate. You are an Englishman, but that 
 cuts no ice with me. Lots of English have become good 
 Americans, and that's what I'd like you to become if it is 
 at all possible. This is the country where Madeline would 
 be happiest something of the city and not too far from the 
 woods room to breathe, room to sing. Eh, Madeline, 
 what do you say ?" 
 
 "We've talked it over, Charles and I," she answered, 
 "but not very much. We've seen so little of each other 
 since since we came to an understanding. Charles would
 
 DRUMS AFAR 287 
 
 have to get into some business here. I mean in Chi- 
 cago " 
 
 "Sure he would I've been thinking of that ever since 
 you broke the news this morning. What's more, I've got 
 the dope see what you think about it. Charles let's drop 
 the Mr. Fitzmorris I've been sizing you up ever since we 
 met at that concert agent's office. You're a likely young 
 fellow and liable to make good whatever you put your 
 hand to. As a newspaper-man, you know or ought to 
 know something about printing. You take an interest in 
 books, fine books. Why not go into the printing business 
 with the Raymond Printing Company?" 
 
 "Oh Father, how lovely of you !" cried Madeline, throw- 
 ing her arms round her father's neck and kissing him. 
 
 "Hold on don't upset the boat," he said, disentangling 
 himself, "I've not finished yet. To continue, Charles, I can't 
 make you a vice-president till I try you out business is 
 not like marriage where you only find out things when it 
 is too late. But I'll give you a fair chance along lines to 
 which you are suited. I propose to send you first to Har- 
 vard, where they now have a two-year course in printing 
 they turn out full-fledged executives If you pass through 
 that course satisfactorily, you are worth ten thousand dol- 
 lars a year to me with an interest in the firm besides. That's 
 my offer." 
 
 "But Father," said Madeline hesitatingly, "does that mean 
 that we may not marry for two years?" 
 
 "Marry any doggoned time you please," he said. "Let's 
 go and tell Mother." 
 
 Mrs. Raymond was in excellent humour, and falsified 
 any fears Madeline had of trouble. 
 
 "The only thing that worries me," she said, "is that 
 Charles is going to make me his mother-in-law, whereas 
 I hoped to be his friend for life. However if he is forgiv- 
 ing, and if I behave myself, we may get along." 
 
 That night as Charles thought over the latest phase, he 
 realized the almost casual way in which his suit had been 
 pursued and accepted. How little he had known of
 
 288 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 Madeline when first he fell in love with her ! How little he 
 knew of her still! it was only last night that he learned 
 how much her heart was in the woods. Hitherto he had 
 known her as a girl with a rare voice, figure and face, in- 
 telligent and good company, a city girl with rather expensive 
 taste for a husband of uncertain future, ambitious and 
 self -sufficiently American. It was the voice and the figure 
 and the face which had captured him the rest sometimes 
 perturbed his insular prejudice. With how much relief he 
 now discovered that only her surface was city, and that 
 she preferred a camp-fire to an arm-chair. Love brings 
 the most sophisticated back to nature, and now he found 
 that she had been a child of nature all the time.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE days that followed were dream days for both 
 Charles and Madeline. They were young, they 
 were in love, and even if the country round had 
 not been Wisconsin, most romantic and beautiful 
 of States, with its two thousand lakes, its rolling hills, its 
 snug farms and its abundant woods, in such a mood they 
 must surely have found it beautiful. Although so popular 
 a lake as Geneva might naturally have been fished out, it 
 had been so well restocked that an hour or two in the morn- 
 ing usually filled the basket. The roads around led to 
 innumerable other lakes, and Madeline loved nothing so 
 much as to spin out in the car with Charles and a lunch- 
 basket for a hundred miles or so. 
 
 Mr. Raymond went each week day by train to Chicago, 
 while Mrs. Raymond seemed to think the house needed 
 all her attention. The Raymonds had many friends among 
 the neighbours, and with tennis and dancing the afternoons 
 and evenings sped apace. On Sundays Mr. Raymond 
 would take Charles for a game of golf at the Delavan 
 Lake Club, half a dozen miles away. The more Charles 
 saw of his future father-in-law, the more he felt attracted. 
 The rugged strength of this American strength of charac- 
 ter and intellect revealed itself in many ways. The burden 
 of his father's family had been thrown early on Henry 
 Raymond's shoulders, but by diligence and enterprise he 
 had, as he said, "won out." 
 
 After the peace which handed over the country now 
 known as Wisconsin to the United States, great-grandfather 
 Raymond had settled down under the new flag at Prairie 
 du Chien on the Eastern bank of the Mississippi. Grand- 
 father Raymond found some neighbouring acres to farm, 
 and as the village blossomed into a town sent half his 
 
 289
 
 290 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 numerous family to earn their living at a trade. Henry 
 Raymond's father earned his first wage as a messenger 
 boy for the local Courier, burned to be a printer, ran off 
 to Chicago where after learning to set type he borrowed 
 capital enough to start his own shop and was in a fair way 
 of business when North and South flew suddenly to arms 
 and made him a Zouave. Wounded and somewhat dis- 
 illusioned he had with difficulty maintained the printing 
 office and the hungry progeny to which he came back in 
 Chicago. Henry Raymond Junior when eighteen was al- 
 ready the virtual head of the family and of the firm. To 
 steer these both successfully through trouble meant many 
 sacrifices meant, for instance, a tardy marriage and an 
 only daughter instead of the quiverful he would have liked 
 but he had seen his father die contented, had educated 
 his half-dozen brothers, had won a place in the printing 
 world, and had found such interest in life that if he had 
 to live it again, he would have done the same. 
 
 The nature of his calling had given him special interest 
 in books, and he read as well as printed. The knowledge 
 of his French descent had turned his mind to the adventur- 
 ous pioneers who came to found a New France in this 
 Western World, and on the fishing and hunting trips which 
 were his favourite vacations he had covered the rivers and 
 lakes and trails and portages from the far waters of the 
 Ottawa to the "wide and rapid current" of the Mississippi. 
 So far from being unlettered, he knew as much of Colbert 
 and of the great Louis of France as Charles himself had 
 ever read at Oxford. 
 
 They talked of history and focused unconsciously on 
 links with Europe. La Salle and Nicolet and Joliet and 
 the sweet-natured Jesuit Marquette all pointed with their 
 dead fingers to the St. Lawrence and to the designs of Louis 
 for world dominion. La Salle was the emissary of Count 
 Frontenac and he in turn of Versailles. 
 
 "You can't cut yourself off from Europe," said Charles 
 to Mr. Raymond. "The same thing is happening to-day 
 that happened over two hundred years ago. Now however
 
 DRUMS AFAR 291 
 
 it is the Hohenzollern who would replace the Bourbon, and 
 dominate both the New World and the Old. You think 
 it is the Old World he has in mind, but the five hundred 
 thousand Germans in Chicago would come in very handy if 
 he had designs upon the New, and perhaps, too, like the 
 Bourbon he will come down on the Middle West by the way 
 of the St. Lawrence. Remember that, in the days of Louis, 
 half the French Canadians were exiles from France, yet 
 they served his purpose very well." 
 
 Two days after the Raymonds arrived at Lake Geneva, 
 Great Britain had broken off with Germany, and Charles, 
 remembering his father, once more had drawn up a cable 
 of inquiry. Then when Kitchener asked for an army of 
 five hundred thousand, he tore the cable up. 
 
 "Only half a million," he thought. "It can't be so serious 
 after all." 
 
 Then as the first wild rumours of British naval victories 
 faded into the ominous advance of the Germans over Bel- 
 gium into France, and the not too friendly comments of 
 the Chicago papers reminded him that an Englishman was 
 here an alien, his peace of mind diminished. 
 
 Softened, however, by the dalliance of love, Charles for- 
 got by noon the pricks of the morning's conscience, and only 
 in night's broken slumbers woke to the thought that there 
 might yet be an imperative call from England. To one 
 so intimate with European politics, the stakes at issue 
 loomed larger than to the gay society of Lake Geneva. 
 Most of these Americans thought of the war only as an 
 inconvenience for friends caught travelling abroad. That 
 Mrs. Peter Patterson had lost three Saratogas at the frontier 
 and had travelled from Carlsbad to Paris with nothing but 
 her pet canary was of more interest than any Belgian hor- 
 rors or the slaughter of ten thousand soldiers. Yet one 
 note of reality was struck by a neighbour who told them 
 as they smoked on the veranda what he had seen in the 
 first days of August at Calgary, a Western Canadian prairie 
 city. 
 
 "I tell you, boys," he said to Charles and Mr. Raymond,
 
 292 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "we've got to take our hats off to those fellows up north 
 over the border. We sit here counting the dollars we mean 
 to make out of this war, but every time I sell a car-load of 
 flour I think of those strapping fellows I saw ride in from 
 the prairies men who without waiting for the call had 
 locked the front door of the ranch or farm and were 
 hoofing it for the recruiting office. 
 
 "I had been out inspecting a section of land and on the 
 way back overtook one of these on his cayuse beating it 
 along the trail to Calgary. 'That's Bill Matson,' said the 
 real estate man who was driving me. 'He owns that section 
 of wheat we saw ten miles back ought to get thirty bushels 
 to the acre. 'Hullo Bill,' he called as we passed by, 'how's 
 the crops ?' 'To hell with the crops,' said Bill. 'Why Bill, 
 they looked pretty good to me/ said my friend. 'There ain't 
 nothin' wrong with the crops,' said Bill, 'but I've quit 
 farming. Got any parcels for Berlin?' Just think of 
 that, and it was dollar wheat ! 
 
 "When we got back to Calgary it was the evening of 
 Monday the third we could see that something was in the 
 wind. The streets were chock-a-block in front of a news- 
 paper office where a fellow was megaphoning bulletins. 
 'Has England declared for war?' I asked of a policeman. 
 'Not yet,' he replied. 'When she does, I'm going.' 'What if 
 England doesn't?' I said. 'Then, by God, I'm done with 
 her,' he replied. 
 
 "We had a bit of something to eat at the hotel, and then 
 went back to see the crowd. They were singing and cheer- 
 ing to beat the band now it was the 'Boys of the Old 
 Brigade' or 'Soldiers of the King,' and now 'Rule Britannia' 
 and then some one struck up 'Nearer my God to Thee.' I 
 guess they remembered the Titanic. Then some one called 
 for the 'Marseillaise,' and though nobody knew the words 
 they all sang the tune. I didn't see why Uncle Sam should 
 be left out, so I sang out 'The Boys in Blue are Marching/ 
 and would you believe it, they took it up like as if it were 
 their own. The American boys there are in it with the 
 Canadians and British. Some one threw slides of portraits
 
 DRUMS AFAR 293 
 
 and cartoons and battleships on a screen, and fellows would 
 get up to make speeches, everybody cheering till it was mid- 
 night, when they broke up and went home. 
 
 "Next day the whole of that dinky little city was plumb 
 crazy with war fever. 'Why don't England declare?' they 
 kept asking. The men were lined up waiting to be enrolled. 
 We saw Bill Matson come out of the office, you never saw 
 a man so happy. They say eight hundred men put down 
 their names that day, or at the rate of a man a minute. 
 They came rolling in like Bill on their cayuses, or in auto- 
 mobiles or from the depot Old Countrymen, mostly, judg- 
 ing by the accents, and not all young by a long chalk. 
 There were grey-haired fellows alongside of the young 
 bucks, and I guess there were some fine homes broken up 
 that day. 
 
 "At night the same old crowd collected, only worse. 
 Every one knew then that Sir Edward Grey had toed the 
 mark, and King George had sent the British Fleet after the 
 Germans. The traffic was blocked, and the street cars side- 
 tracked the newspaper office. There were people sitting 
 on the roofs and on the window sills, listening to the bulle- 
 tins. Gee, what a scene ! Hats were flying, and the crowd 
 was swaying this way and that, singing and cheering, till 
 some one started 'God save the King.' That brought them 
 up all together. So till midnight, when word went round 
 that the first contingent of naval reservists was leaving for 
 the Coast right away. Off they swept to the depot where 
 they found the men waiting for the westbound transconti- 
 nental. Never in my life have I seen anything to beat that 
 send off. They put the Jackies into baggage trucks and 
 paraded them up and down the platforms to an orchestra 
 of flutes, whistles, bugles, mouth-organs, drums, tin cans 
 and bagpipes. If noise would do it, Britannia would rule 
 the waves to the end of time after that night. 
 
 "What beats me is that these fellows were five thousand 
 miles away from London, and this war need not mean 
 anything to them. Are they right, and are we asleep ?" 
 
 So this was the Canada that Charles had hitherto sneered
 
 294 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 at ! He flushed at the thought of his former attitude. These 
 Canadians were rolling up to the flag without even waiting 
 for the call. What was he doing? "Most of them were 
 Old Countrymen." What was he but an Old Countryman? 
 They were leaving the ranch and the farm with wheat 
 at a dollar the bushel. What would he leave? 
 
 His eyes turned on Medeline who at that moment joined 
 them on the veranda, and his heart fell. 
 
 Next day during a tete-h-tete he confessed to her his 
 misgivings. 
 
 "It is not as if I were of no particular use," he said. "I 
 know the country where the fighting is, both in Alsace and 
 on the northern front. I speak both French and German. 
 I am young and strong and have no encumbrances " 
 
 "None?" she interjected, putting her arm round his neck 
 appealingly. "What about me? Do I not count? Don't 
 think of it, Charles you are well out of it you have 
 your father's word for it that you are not wanted. There 
 must be hundreds of British officers who have studied the 
 country far more carefully than you." 
 
 "You don't know the British officer," replied Charles 
 grimly. "This is war, not cricket." 
 
 Nevertheless he yielded to her kisses, and said no more 
 about it, though more and more insistent grew his doubts 
 and the tribulation which disturbed his spirit. Whether or 
 not Madeline realized the depth of the unrest that inflamed 
 Charles's heart, she became more eager than ever to find 
 new entertainment, to plan new trips, to keep his thoughts 
 occupied with the new country in which he had come to 
 live. 
 
 "We must take Charles on a hunting trip this Fall," she 
 urged her father. "He must learn the way of the woods, 
 how to put up a lean-to, and make a camp-fire, and toss a 
 flapjack, and be happy on pork and beans. Write to Harry 
 Allen and tell him to book three record heads for this little 
 party." 
 
 "Harry would be tickled to death," replied Mr. Raymond, 
 "but I have my eye this Fall on Nova Scotia rather than
 
 DRUMS AFAR 295 
 
 New Brunswick. Harry has been with me these last three 
 seasons, and will forgive me if I make a change. We'll 
 get the tail end of the fishing if we go when the hunting 
 season opens, and can take in Montreal on the way to 
 show our friend where the family comes from." 
 
 "Don't you have any more hunting in your own United 
 States?" asked Charles, "or why do you always seem to go 
 to Canada?" 
 
 "Not much in the way of the big game here, except for 
 deer," replied Mr. Raymond, "now that the country i's so 
 settled. We might go to Maine and shoot a guide or two, 
 but I have a hatred for homicide, however accidental. No, 
 give me the Canadian woods, where the frosty nights come 
 early and your camp is twenty miles from any other, and the 
 guides are out for game, not suckers. Gee whiz, Charles, 
 I thought you would as a Britisher prefer to see something 
 of your Canuck cousins." 
 
 "I know I should," replied Charles, "but somehow I 
 never curried to relations. But this would certainly be a 
 great experience, and I should love to go with you." 
 
 In the meanwhile, Madeline made her father take them 
 for a week-end to Waukesha, where they spent a night at 
 the Resthaven, most luxurious of Spas. Too late she 
 realized her error when they found it overrun with Ger- 
 mans from Milwaukee and Jefferson loud in their declara- 
 tions that Germany must win. 
 
 At Oconowoc whither they escaped, it was still more 
 noisily Teutonic, and they were all glad to take the road 
 again into a less guttural air. Even on the road it seemed 
 impossible to get away from Europe. When they left 
 Waukesha they had passed a Little Italy of concertina 
 players, workers at the limestone quarries. Then Water- 
 town, half way to Madison, might very well have dropped 
 out of German clouds overrun, moreover, as it was with 
 geese, just as the roads that Charles and Madeline had 
 motored over in the neighbourhood of Strasburg. 
 
 After all, he was safest at Fort Raymond. 
 
 It may have been an instinct that she was in danger of
 
 296 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 losing Charles which made Madeline declare for a short 
 engagement. 
 
 "We can be married after Christmas," she said. "That 
 will give me time to get ready my trousseau, and of course 
 I must sing at the Thomas Concerts. We shall have a 
 lovely time at Boston it is almost as good for music as 
 Chicago." 
 
 Mr. Raymond outlined his plans for the years that were 
 to follow. 
 
 "By the time you have finished your two-year course, 
 you should be prety well posted on the methods of running 
 a printing office such as ours. I myself have to spend too 
 much time on detail to keep up to date, and if all they say 
 about this Harvard course is true you will be mighty valu- 
 able. But in Chicago itself half the business is done in the 
 Club, so you must join the University Club and use it as 
 your outside office just as I use the Chicago Athletic. You 
 must cash in on your Oxford degree. That will carry you 
 into circles beyond me, and should be worth five thousand 
 dollars a year to a firm like ours. I will pay you this salary 
 till you care to earn it in the orders you bring in. Madeline 
 herself will have five thousand in her own right, so with 
 that and your own English income, if you have any, you 
 should be able to pay the rent." 
 
 Charles was startled at this material view of the Oxford 
 hall-mark, but after all Mr. Raymond was a better judge 
 than he was of American values. The main thing was that 
 it was being made easy for him to marry the girl he loved. 
 
 "The sooner I get to know your office, the better," he 
 said. "Don't you think I should start at once?" 
 
 Mr. Raymond was pleased at the suggestion, but Madeline 
 said no. 
 
 "I know what it will be once Charles gets into your 
 clutches," she declared. "Perhaps then I may see him once 
 a week apart from breakfast, spending the rest of the time 
 thinking up dinners which he won't have time to come 
 home for. He will be just as bad as you, Father, if not 
 worse. No, Charles is mine just now, and I can't spare
 
 DRUMS AFAR 297 
 
 him. You can't have him till we are married and till he 
 has done with Harvard." 
 
 Mr. Raymond laughed. 
 
 "Very well then. But you must give him a day off now 
 and again, otherwise he will have too much of you. He 
 hasn't even seen the office or the plant." 
 
 She compromised by letting him go with her father twice 
 to Chicago. But each time he stepped into the train, she 
 was filled with a nameless dread. When he came back, 
 and they had a few minutes alone, she assured herself by 
 the warmth of the kisses she could so easily entice that he 
 was still safely hers. There was no spell, she found, more 
 potent than her voice. When the elder folk went out on 
 any pretext and in this respect they were good-natured 
 she would sing to Charles, getting him to sit beside her, 
 with his arm round her, his cheek upon her shoulder. 
 
 Each time, however, that he returned, he had brought 
 back maps and the war books rushed out by so many pub- 
 lishers. The light burned late in his bedroom, and she 
 knew that he was poring over the routes of the great armies 
 overseas. From her own bay window she could see the 
 shadow of his bent head silhouetted on his blind, and darker 
 grew the shadow which threatened to blot out her new- 
 found happiness.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 THE last visit that he made to Chicago a few days 
 before they left for the hunting trip seemed to 
 have made some deep impression on Charles. He 
 looked so unhappy that Madeline began to be 
 alarmed. 
 
 "Let's go out for a stroll/' she said, and as soon as she 
 had him safely to herself, slipped her arm into his and 
 asked him what was the matter. 
 
 "Nothing, except a letter that Viola read to me," he 
 answered. "Frank has joined the army as a private 
 Kitchener's Army. If what he says is true, the first army 
 sent to France has been to all intents and purposes wiped 
 out as a fighting force they can only hold the lines till a 
 new force comes along, and that new force must be on a 
 European, not a British scale." 
 
 "What does that mean?" 
 
 "A million where we used to have a hundred thousand. 
 It means, he thinks, conscription the voluntary system is 
 played out." 
 
 "He must be exaggerating," she exclaimed. 
 
 "He gives as his authority a man I know a military 
 writer of the first rank now more or less attached to the 
 Censor's office. If what Frank says is true, I have no right 
 to be here." 
 
 "It is not true, it can't be true," she urged passionately. 
 "You have only to read the papers to see the Germans are 
 retreating the worst is over now. Charles, don't be 
 foolish. His letter must be at least a fortnight old even 
 I can see that things have changed since then." 
 
 "Things have changed, perhaps; but Chicago has not," 
 he answered. "One could hardly tell there that the greatest 
 war of the last hundred years is being waged. The same 
 
 298
 
 DRUMS AFAR 299 
 
 luxurious life, careless and spendthrift, as before. More 
 interest in baseball than in Belgium. I went into the Art 
 Institute and saw what seemed to me the comment of 
 Europe on America. On the main staircase there were two 
 statues opposite each other. One was Chapu's Joan of 
 Arc, her hands clasped in serene faith, as it were the 
 spirit of France trusting in her cause and praying for vic- 
 tory. On the other was Houdin's statue of Voltaire, looking 
 down the marble steps towards Michigan Avenue, a sar- 
 donic smile upon his face, as if he gauged the indifference 
 of that crowd." 
 
 She felt he was in no mood to argue, and therefore used 
 her woman's weapons her beauty, her charm not ob- 
 trusively but with effect, so that as they stood there after 
 a while, cheek to cheek and breast to breast, his senses 
 swam with the magic of her love, and the clash of arms in 
 Europe was again four thousand miles away. 
 
 Chicago, she could see now, was the dangerpoint, and 
 with a lightening heart she saw the day approach on which 
 they were to set out for Nova Scotia. The day before their 
 departure was busy with preparation picking out and ar- 
 ranging flies and tackle, cleaning rifles, packing and repack- 
 ing kitbags. It had meant a new outfit for Charles, who 
 came unprepared for such a venture, but under Madeline's 
 hands everything went into wonderfully small space. 
 
 "We shall each have a guide," she said, "but we want to 
 keep the guides our friends, and so have everything just 
 right to carry." 
 
 That night a letter came to Charles from England, the 
 first he had received. So terrified was Madeline lest this 
 might mean his summons that she had almost hidden it 
 away before he knew it had come. Downing the tempta- 
 tion, she gave it to him herself, slipping out on to the 
 veranda in the hope that he would follow her and tell her 
 quickly. 
 
 She had not long to wait. It was a letter from his father. 
 With beating heart she read it:
 
 300 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "My DEAR CHARLES, 
 
 "You will have received my two cables indeed you 
 mention them in answer to your inquiries. I would have 
 written to you before this, but have been so busy on my 
 new job. The Chancellor of the Exchequer has comman- 
 deered me, I am glad to say at a good salary, and I am 
 spending valuable hours fighting the red tape which seems 
 to strangle every Government office. The closing of the 
 Stock Exchange has therefore left me untouched indeed 
 I foresaw and recommended the procedure. Soon after you 
 left I found the secret of Berlin, and played my cards ac- 
 cordingly. 
 
 "This war has made an astonishing change in the Fitz- 
 morris regime. Joyce is immersed in Ambulance lectures 
 and a Red Cross manual, determined to be a nurse. Your 
 mother has sold her Consols and bought a house in Surrey, 
 which she means to make a convalescent home for officers 
 this, I fear, will be a long war. It was impetuous, I said 
 to her, but, damn it, I honour her for doing it. Clara's 
 husband, the little fellow whom you and I thought such a 
 rat, has applied for, and through his influence will no doubt 
 get a commission. To tell the truth, it was Clara who made 
 him do it, partly no doubt from patriotism, but partly, be- 
 tween you and me and the gate-post, because she was tired 
 of having a man about the house all day doing nothing. 
 I have put up our Richmond house for sale. We shan't 
 get much for it in these days, but better a little cash than a 
 large white elephant. 
 
 "Well, I suppose you are a fixture now in Chicago. Your 
 latest letter tells of the engagement by Jove, I should have 
 begun with congratulations, but you see the world is topsy 
 turvy. Well, dear boy, I am glad you have found a nice 
 girl and a congenial father-in-law. Of course I remember 
 her concert how could I forget so beautiful a voice, so 
 sweet a figure ? Kiss her from me, and kiss her warmly. 
 
 "I don't know whether you have got so far as to talk 
 of settlements. I should prefer to wait, as this is no time 
 to send money out of the country England will need every
 
 DRUMS AFAR 301 
 
 sovereign she can get but if Mr. Raymond asks his bank- 
 ers to write to mine, I think he will be satisfied. 
 
 "Love from your mother, who says she will write next 
 week, and who asks why you did not send a photograph of 
 the fair Madeline. 
 
 "Your loving 
 
 "FATHER." 
 
 "You see," she said triumphantly when she had finished, 
 "he does not say a word about your going back. He ex- 
 pects you to stay. How glad I am aren't you, Charles?" 
 
 "Why, yes," said Charles, and kissed her. 
 
 But all the while he felt the shadow falling, falling. 
 
 They left Chicago on the following evening, meaning to 
 break the journey twenty-four hours later at Montreal. 
 Mrs. Raymond stayed on at Lake Geneva. She said she had 
 had enough of travel. 
 
 The observation car was somewhat crowded, so Charles 
 and Mr. Raymond went back to the smoking room of their 
 own car. Here it did not take long to fall into conversa- 
 tion with a fellow-traveller, evidently fascinated with the 
 sound of his strident voice, "travelling" he said, "in 
 caskets." 
 
 This cheerful occupation, for caskets, as Charles dis- 
 covered, was the American for coffins entitled him, as an 
 authority on funerals, to pose also as an authority on war. 
 
 "What you reading that paper for?" he remarked to 
 Charles. "Papers is all lies." 
 
 "Is that so?" answered Charles with a smile. 
 
 "Sure thing," replied the other. "There's nothing to 
 this war. Not till Uncle Sam gets in, and then we'll show 
 'em something." 
 
 Charles lifted his eyebrows. 
 
 "Any sign of Uncle Sam?" he said. 
 
 The other grunted. This was evidently an Englishman. 
 
 "I tell you, we're on the job," he continued. "But as for 
 them correspondents, I ain't got no use for them. They
 
 302 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 can't tell me anything I don't know. There's nothing in 
 them noospapers. I don't read nothing now." 
 
 "Judging from your speech," thought Charles, "that is 
 highly probable." But as there was nothing to be gained 
 by argument, he let the other run on till the porter signalled 
 that his berth was ready. 
 
 Next morning they woke up in Canada, and Charles with 
 some curiosity kept looking out of the window as they sat 
 at breakfast. 
 
 "What are you looking for?" asked Mr. Raymond. 
 
 "To see if there is anything distinctive about the British 
 Empire," he replied. 
 
 "There's really very little difference from across the 
 line," said Mr. Raymond. "This is Ontario, but for all 
 the world it's just like Michigan, only perhaps a little 
 slower. The people here don't seem to have such pep 
 take life more easily. We don't find any French-Canadians 
 till we get to Montreal." 
 
 "Do they have pep ?" asked Charles. 
 
 "Not as a rule till they become Americans. Not that pep 
 is everything. They are much happier than we are. We 
 Americans are not a happy people. We are merely suc- 
 cessful." 
 
 Although the train itself seemed to be very much the 
 same as it was when they left Chicago, the talk in the obser- 
 vation car was more subdued, their fellow travellers in 
 Canada were more reserved, the atmosphere not English 
 but less American. The traveller in caskets and his kind 
 seemed to have disappeared. At the stations where they 
 stopped to change engines, there was little evidence of war, 
 this being as Charles found because the soldiers for the 
 front had all gone forward to Valcartier. As soon, how- 
 ever, as any lady passenger got on, she opened her little bag 
 and commenced to knit socks, no doubt, for the Red Cross. 
 
 From the Toronto papers Charles could see the intense 
 interest taken by these quieter people in the war. They 
 quoted from American comments as well as English. There 
 was evidently controversy as to the proportion of native-
 
 DRUMS AFAR 303 
 
 born and English-born Canadians who had enlisted. The 
 Government was being urged to prepare a Second Expe- 
 ditionary Force it was not clear whether the First had 
 actually sailed. 
 
 The train passed along the shore of Lake Ontario, and 
 as the first frosts had already touched the maple and the 
 birch, they saw those shining and romantic waters through 
 a fringe of green and scarlet and gold.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 AT Montreal neat porters in grey uniforms with red 
 caps took their handbags, and from the long low- 
 roofed train-sheds they passed into a light airy hall 
 in which French seemed to be spoken almost as 
 much as English. Dusk was gathering, so without further 
 delay they drove off to the Windsor. It was only a short 
 drive, but even that left a pleasant impression of great trees 
 in a spacious square. 
 
 Madeline excused herself from dinner on the plea of a 
 headache, so that the two men dined alone. Before joining 
 Mr. Raymond in the hotel restaurant, Charles descended 
 to the barber's for a shave, not having been very happy 
 with his razor on the train. The rotunda and the passages 
 of the hotel were thronged with men evidently under some 
 excitement, and in the barber's shop itself there was a buzz 
 of talk suggestive of something unusual. Every barber 
 was busy, and there were half a dozen men waiting for 
 their turn. 
 
 "Hello, Bill," said .one of these to another, "where have 
 you been hiding? I've a search-warrant for you." 
 
 "New York." 
 
 "Why the hell New York when we wanted you here ? I 
 had you booked for my team and you never showed up." 
 
 "Business " 
 
 "Cut it out your job was on this Campaign. These fel- 
 lows going to the front did not think of business, and we've 
 got to look after their wives and children. You're coming 
 to the dinner to-night ?" 
 
 "It's not too late ?" 
 
 "Never too late get into the game. Have you filled in 
 your pledge ? Well, do it now here's a pen." 
 
 "How much?"
 
 DRUMS AFAR 305 
 
 "Five hundred dollars for you." 
 
 "Five hun ?" 
 
 "Yes, come across." 
 
 The other hesitated but signed his pledge as directed. 
 
 "What's the excitement?" asked Charles of the barber 
 who at last took him in hand. 
 
 "Last night of the Patriotic Fund Campaign, Sir. They 
 are out to raise a million dollars we're all giving some- 
 thing. Dinner in the Rose Room, sir all Montreal will be 
 there." 
 
 Mr. Raymond had agreed to wait in the rotunda, but it 
 was quite a problem to find him. 
 
 "Thought at first it was a Convention," he said as they 
 met, "but it's a local stunt. Tickets for the dinner all 
 sold, but they say we can get in to hear the speeches." 
 
 The general dining room was next to the Rose Room, 
 and through the partition they could hear the hubbub 
 subdued at first, then an outburst of cheering as if to 
 greet some speaker. The unrest which had taken hold of 
 Charles increased with curiosity and he paid scant atten- 
 tion to the elaborate menu selected by Mr. Raymond. There 
 were Malpecque oysters salty of the sea and very delicious 
 slices of a huge local melon, pea-soup as the habitants 
 made it, Gaspe salmon, and, by Jinks, moosesteak! But 
 Charles could not enthuse. He wanted to see what was 
 happening next door, learn what this Patriotic Fund was 
 and why these Canadians should get so excited about it. 
 
 "I see you want to be with the crowd," said Mr. Ray- 
 mond good-naturedly. "Well, let's cut out the coffee and 
 see what we can see." 
 
 With some little difficulty, for several hundred others had 
 the same idea as themselves, they squeezed into a large 
 banqueting hall with rose coloured panels between which 
 were white fluted pilasters and rose coloured window cur- 
 tains. There must have been nearly a thousand there 
 some in evening dress, others in morning coat all men ex- 
 cept for a gallery of lady spectators arranged in long 
 tables marked with numbers. These designated the teams
 
 306 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 of canvassers, and this was the winding-up dinner of the 
 Campaign. 
 
 At the end of the room was a great sign with tabulated 
 figures, showing the totals collected by each team day by 
 day during the week. 
 
 A clergyman of sorts was concluding a speech which 
 was evidently militant. Every word that he spoke sank 
 home. 
 
 "The Kaiser," he was saying, "was informed that England 
 dare not go to war because Canada was eagerly waiting an 
 opportunity to haul down the Union Jack to declare herself 
 a free Republic. To-night there are between thirty thou- 
 sand and forty thousand Canadian soldiers at Valcartier, 
 and here in this room are assembled the great repre- 
 sentatives of our city to show the Kaiser whether we want 
 to have done with Britain or not. 
 
 "Never in the long annals of history has a nation fought 
 with a cleaner conscience or with a cleaner sword than 
 the British Empire is doing to-day. We are not fighting to 
 vent our hate upon any nation, or to extend our territories. 
 We are fighting for a scrap of paper only, it is true, but 
 when England's solemn word of honour was on that paper 
 and when the neutrality of gallant and immortal little 
 Belgium was violated, the path of honour for Britain led 
 straight into the mouth of the enemies' cannon. 
 
 "The representatives of our race have followed and will 
 follow to the bitter end, refusing to accept the infamous 
 bribes of German diplomats, refusing to play traitor to gal- 
 lant France and helpless but brave Belgium. 
 
 "We are fighting because there are still such things as 
 chivalry and honour and national morality. We are fight- 
 ing to defend the weaker nations of Europe from the armed 
 brutality and the ruthless barbarism of the Potsdam war- 
 lords. We are fighting for our lives, and let the issue be 
 perfectly clear, for our liberties; for our homes and for 
 our altars, for our very existence as a self-governing, lib- 
 erty-loving people. We shall fight on, if it takes all our
 
 DRUMS AFAR 307 
 
 treasure, all our ships, all our men. We shall fight as 
 long as there is a gun left and a man to fire it." 
 
 A roar of cheering followed this peroration. 
 
 "Holy smoke!" exclaimed Mr. Raymond. "These Can- 
 ucks are taking the thing seriously!" 
 
 Then followed an auction. A big Canadian, with a voice 
 as big as his body, jumped on a table and harangued the 
 audience with a rollicking introduction. Then got down to 
 business. 
 
 "First I have to offer you this handsome diamond ring 
 not an ordinary ring, nor even an ordinary diamond ring, 
 but a ring with a history, a ring which sparkles with tender 
 associations. When I read the letter that accompanies this 
 ring, you will dig down deep into your pockets, yet all 
 the money you could find there is small compared to the 
 spirit which inspired this magnificent gift. The ring and 
 the letter were sent by an unknown lady to one of the 
 leading workers in this campaign, a railway president whom 
 you all know. The letter reads: 
 
 Dear Mr. President, 
 
 I can contribute no sum of money to the Patriotic Fund 
 at all commensurate with my sympathy for the cause, so I 
 offer the enclosed, the gift of a dearly loved father to a 
 daughter sixteen years old many years ago. I send this ring 
 to you personally, Mr. President, because my father was a 
 builder of railroads and as such met and conquered in 
 earlier days obstacles that would have daunted a smaller 
 soul. I trust and believe that your committees will find 
 means to make my offering of some avail, at least their 
 acceptance of it will honour the memory of a man who, 
 amidst many demands upon him, was never heedless of the 
 distress of a woman or of a child. May we not feel that 
 in this hour of test an invincible Host is with us, the Host 
 of those who having themselves overcome, point the way of 
 courage and endurance and of mercy to those of us who 
 go and those of us who stay. I am respectfully 
 
 ,, , A Daughter of Loyalists. 
 
 Montreal, September 14, 1914.
 
 308 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "Point the way of courage?" the words burned into 
 Charles's very soul. What was he doing there? What 
 sacrifices had he to offer? Must this unknown Canadian 
 woman show him the way? 
 
 "Now, gentlemen," said the auctioneer, "after an appeal 
 so touching, can any of you refuse to bid five hundred dol- 
 lars? five fifty six hundred six fifty seven hundred 
 eight nine one thousand dollars thank you, you are a 
 gentleman one thousand dollars my time is worth ten 
 dollars a second one thousand going! going! Gone! 
 Name please Selim? can't catch it Salim Bousamra. 
 Stand up Mr. Bousamra and show these gentlemen the 
 handsomest man in Montreal. 
 
 "One of my Syrians !" called out a little man at the head 
 of one of the tables. 
 
 "Three cheers for the Syrians hip-hip-hooray!" called 
 out the auctioneer and every one cheered and shouted 
 "Speech speech !" 
 
 Salim Bousamra shrugged his shoulders and gesticulated 
 with oriental significance. . 
 
 "Gentlemen," he said, "what can I say? I will just say 
 this I owe everything I have in the world to Montreal. 
 Twenty years ago I came to Canada without a cent. Mon- 
 treal has been good to me. I am proud to be able to give 
 a thousand dollars for this ring to your Patriotic Fund." 
 
 A Syrian ! thought Charles, and gives a thousand dollars. 
 What had he to give? 
 
 "Gentlemen," said the auctioneer, "we gave three cheers 
 for the Syrians, but we forgot the 'tiger/ " 
 
 Such a "tiger" as followed shook the roof. 
 
 Fast and furious went the auction till the tensest of all 
 excitement when bids were asked for a horse. The animal 
 itself had been raffled and the number drawn by the 
 auctioneer himself, who once more put it up for sale for 
 the benefit of the Fund. But first he would auction the 
 right of naming the horse. A roar of laughter passed 
 round the room when the first bid came not from among 
 the men themselves but from the ladies' gallery.
 
 DRUMS AFAR 309 
 
 "That's my wife," called out a guest at the high table. 
 
 "That's my money," floated down the answer. "If you 
 want to win bid higher." 
 
 Then came a contest between man and wife three hun- 
 dred dollars three fifty four hundred four fifty five 
 hundred five twenty-five going going gone the lady 
 has it ! 
 
 "Madame," said the auctioneer, "what name do you wish 
 to give to the horse?" 
 
 "Colonel Sam Hughes," was the shrill answer, "because 
 he's a good worker." 
 
 Loud cheers for Canada's Minister of Militia. 
 
 The auctioneer scratched his head. 
 
 "Can't be done," he said, "the horse is also a lady." 
 
 The audience rocked with laughter. 
 
 "What bids for the right of re-naming the horse?" con- 
 tinued the indefatigable auctioneer. A black-headed French 
 Canadian ran this up to two hundred and fifty dollars. 
 
 "What name?" 
 
 "Victoire!" 
 
 Like a flash came the answer and like a flash the room 
 rose and cheered. 
 
 Then followed detailed reports from the captains of the 
 teams of canvassers the black-bearded French Canadian 
 was one another was the persistent fellow in the barber's 
 shop, another was the little man who claimed the Syrian, 
 there must have been more than twenty each telling tales 
 of sacrifices, each working up to a climax, commencing 
 with the small subscriptions cents, dollars, hundred dol- 
 lars, five hundred dollars, thousands, tens of thousands 
 there seemed to be more thousand dollars than cents each 
 captain more excited than the one before, all knowing that 
 the million they had promised to raise would be nearer a 
 million and a half, all stirred by the sound of the guns in 
 the square which were booming out their record of the 
 hundred thousands as they mounted up, all fired with the 
 success that was crowning a week of strenuous campaign- 
 ing. Then last of all up sprang a tall, clean shaven, clean
 
 3io DRUMS AFAR 
 
 cut, fair haired captain, his face white with excitement. 
 
 "I want to tell you," he shouted, "about the meanest man 
 in Montreal. He is one of the richest men in Montreal, 
 but when I asked him for a subscription for the wives and 
 soldiers of the men who are going to fight his battles, he 
 turned me down. Now what do you think of that ? not one 
 cent out of all his millions. Gentlemen, I want you to let 
 me tell you his name. Will you give me permission?" 
 
 A sudden stillness passed over the room. Not one there 
 but wished to know the name, but the sporting spirit, which 
 seemed as strong here in Canada as in any other part of the 
 British Empire prevailed. "Every man is entitled to his 
 own opinion," was the thought, and "No No No!" was 
 the answer. 
 
 "Very well," said this captain, "let us turn from the 
 millionaire to the wage-earners." 
 
 "That's good," said a man at Charles's side, "he's a 
 millionaire himself." 
 
 The fiery captain then explained that the total he could 
 claim that night was due to the employes who had volun- 
 teered to give a day's pay to the Fund. With machine-gun 
 rapidity he fired off names and figures, always working 
 higher, always more dramatic till at his final total, by far 
 the highest of the evening, the whole room rose once more 
 and with handkerchiefs and napkins acclaimed the most 
 spectacular record of a record night. 
 
 "My God!" exclaimed Mr. Raymond. "I wouldn't have 
 missed this for a thousand dollars." 
 
 The auctioneer was at his elbow. 
 
 "Did I hear you say a thousand dollars?" he said. 
 "Thank you just sign here." 
 
 A somewhat sickly grin passed over the Chicago man's 
 face, but only for a moment. 
 
 "Yes, damn it," he said, "you deserve it, and I'm glad 
 to give. Count me as one of the boys." 
 
 So saying he took the pen offered him and signed his 
 name and address. 
 
 Votes of thanks were now being passed and a movement
 
 DRUMS AFAR 311 
 
 started towards the door. Charles and Mr. Raymond were 
 turning when suddenly "God Save the King" was struck 
 up. The almost riotous excitement sobered down, and 
 with a sincerity that gave the familiar music a new mean- 
 ing to Charles a thousand throats sang the National Anthem. 
 As he passed towards the door he picked up a card, evi- 
 dently used by a canvasser in soliciting subscriptions. There 
 were just three lines. 
 
 "SOME WOMEN ARE GIVING THEIR MEN 
 SOME MEN ARE GIVING THEIR LIVES 
 
 WHAT ARE YOU GIVING?" 
 
 "What am I giving? What can I give? What am I 
 doing? What can I do?" These thoughts kept beating 
 on his brain and would not be repelled. Every one seemed 
 to shame him : the unknown "Daughter of Loyalists," Salim 
 Bousamra the Syrian, the Montreal working man with his 
 "day's pay," Mr. Raymond himself with his thousand 
 American dollars, and Charles himself, an Englishman, with 
 England at war in England's war, her first army defeated, 
 glad to get the help of her colonies what had he given, 
 what was he doing? 
 
 The telegram sent by Winston Churchill from South 
 Africa to the Morning Post early in the Boer War came to 
 his mind. 
 
 "What are the gentlemen of England doing? Are they 
 all fox-hunting?" 
 
 Fox-hunting moose-hunting? where was the difference? 
 
 "Hello, Fitzmorris well, of all the luck !" 
 
 A slap on the shoulder woke him from his reflections. 
 It was Jeffers good old bull-voiced Jeffers, who had 
 coached the Third Togger to victory on the river that first 
 year at Oxford. 
 
 "Jeffers! What are you doing here? Are you living 
 in Montreal?" 
 
 "Just till to-morrow. Then "
 
 312 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 A sudden light seemed to break over his face and he 
 slipped his arm through that of Charles. 
 
 "Come up to my room and have a pow-wow. Are you 
 with anybody?" 
 
 "Yes, let me introduce you, Mr. Raymond of Chicago- 
 Mr. Jeffers, an old college friend." 
 
 "Glad to know you," said Mr. Raymond. "Say, Charles, 
 don't let me keep you. I guess I'll go to bed I've had all 
 the excitement I want to-night. See you in the morning." 
 
 With a cheery good-night he left them. 
 
 "Who's the old buck?" asked Jeffers. 
 
 "One of the very best," replied Charles, and told him 
 of the thousand dollars. 
 
 "Gad, you're right!" exclaimed Jeffers. "There must 
 be something human in a fellow who gets carried away like 
 that. These Americans are white men and will be with 
 us yet. But that's not what I have in mind." 
 
 By this time they had reached his room. 
 
 "Well,'.' said Charles, sinking into a chair and lighting a 
 cigarette, "what is on what you call your mind?" 
 
 "It's this," said Jeffers so solemnly that Charles regretted 
 his flippancy, "those thirty to forty thousand Canadians 
 referred to by that Methodist parson to-night are sailing on 
 Sunday, day after to-morrow, from Quebec under convoy 
 for England, and I'm going with them." 
 
 "As an officer?" 
 
 "No, not as an officer, nor even as a private, but as a 
 ship's steward. It's the only way to make it. When war 
 broke out, I thought of enlisting, but then, damn it! I 
 wasn't a Canadian, and it didn't seem right to join a Cana- 
 dian regiment until it was too late and the lists were 
 closed. But there's lots of room over there, and mark 
 my words, Fitzmorris, we are needed, you and I. This is no 
 war like the Boer War " 
 
 "And yet," flashed through Charles's mind, "even in 
 the Boer War there was a call for the gentlemen of Eng- 
 land." 
 
 "This," continued Jeffers, "is a matter of life and death,
 
 DRUMS AFAR 313 
 
 and so I'm going home. All the passenger boats have been 
 commandeered for three weeks, but why pay passage money 
 when you can work your way? I've got a pal in a steam- 
 ship company who has promised to sign me on as a steward 
 on the Virginian, there are thirty transports and lots of jobs 
 vacant, as so many of their old stewards were reservists. 
 My pal said, if I had any friends like myself," and he 
 looked Charles full in the face, "I might bring them 
 along." 
 
 At last the moment had come, and now that it had come 
 Charles was glad. All this uncertainty, this sleepless con- 
 troversy with his conscience, this conflict between the call 
 of Madeline and the call of duty was to end. What his 
 decision must be was clear as noonday. The spirit of 
 patriotism and sacrifice that he had seen in the meeting 
 downstairs had purged his soul. 
 
 "So far," continued Jeffers, "I've collected seven all 
 Oxford men all rowing men they seem to have dropped 
 in here mostly from the States just now they are all out 
 on an unholy jag but I want an eighth. I'm going to 
 stroke this crew myself this time, and not just holler from 
 the bank. It'll be a mixed crew two Magdalen men, two 
 men from New College, one from Trinity, one from Univ, 
 myself from the House five different colleges you see, but 
 then you get into a mixed crew if you row for Leander. 
 By Jove, Fitzmorris, this will be better even than rowing 
 for Leander, won't you be one of us ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Charles, a lump in his throat, as he rose from 
 his chair and grasped Jeffers's hand, "yes, I will." 
 
 "I knew you would I knew you would." 
 
 The lump in his throat disappeared as suddenly as it 
 came, and having thus lightened his soul on the summit 
 of the Hill of Difficulty, Charles went joyfully on. 
 
 "What about the cox ? Can't you rope in a ninth ?" 
 
 Jeffers smiled. 
 
 "There is a man also of Oxford a scholar First in 
 Greats proxime accessit for the Ireland who has begged 
 me on his knees to be allowed to come, but I hesitate he
 
 314 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 is a Balliol man. I don't know whether the other fellows 
 would stand him. One has to be particular, even as a 
 steward on a transport." 
 
 "Why not let him come as a sculleryman," suggested 
 Charles. "I suppose even on a transport some one washes 
 the dishes. Is he very Balliol?" 
 
 "Very. One of Lord Milner's young men. Talks 
 'Empire' with his chin in the air and thinks Canada is 
 governed by England. Now that I come to think of it, the 
 wisest thing would be to get him out of the country. What's 
 more, one should not be too particular. This is a war for 
 democracy. The cook's galley will suit him admirably. 
 His name is Mount joy The Honourable Algernon Augus- 
 tus Clarence though he has dropped the Honourable since 
 he came to Canada. That title is known here only in con- 
 nection with wise and aged Senators. The Honourable 
 Algernon looks eighteen." 
 
 "What is the programme ?" asked Charles. 
 
 "At one o'clock we go on board. We don't pick up the 
 soldiers till we reach Quebec but that will give the other 
 fellows time to sober up and give us all time to learn some- 
 thing about our jobs. I've found the place where we can 
 get clothes. We can take it on our way to the Docks." 
 
 At one o'clock ! That left little time enough to break the 
 news and say good-bye to Madeline. Well, so much the 
 better. She would make a scene Charles hated scenes 
 the sooner it was over the better. He loved her God 
 knows he loved her, but now he had no choice but go.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 IT was not till he woke up shivering at five o'clock 
 next morning that Charles realized how much was 
 involved in his promise. Madeline and Mr. Raymond 
 had brought him in perfectly good faith to Montreal, 
 had made arrangements for guides and outfit in Nova 
 Scotia, and now at a moment's notice he was going to 
 desert them. It was, moreover, poor courtesy to the girl 
 to whom he was affianced that he should thus suddenly 
 leave her in the lurch. It was all very heroic for him to go 
 back to England to enlist, but it was damned hard on the 
 girl. 
 
 Of course it was hard on him too to leave her so sud- 
 denly. He had anticipated a fortnight of sheer happiness, 
 followed by the novelty of a return to study, with the pros- 
 pect of an early marriage to the girl he loved, somewhere 
 about Christmas, and then after the close of his course 
 at Harvard a comfortable home with a good income in 
 a business which promised to be congenial. Mr. Raymond 
 had shown himself a prince, and this was Charles's return. 
 No glamour of heroism could obscure the inconsiderateness 
 of his treatment of both Madeline and her father, and he 
 cursed Jeffers for having won his promise in that moment 
 of impulse. 
 
 And yet Charles, knowing his own character and know- 
 ing the hold that this lovely girl could exercise upon him 
 if she chose, knew that if he were to go at all, he must 
 go now. He dared not wait. 
 
 Breakfast was a difficult meal. Madeline was full of 
 spirits, looking forward to a morning's shopping. There 
 were camp dainties which might not be easy to get at 
 Annapolis. Then there was Montreal itself to see. Mr. 
 Raymond for his part was still under the excitement of the
 
 316 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 night before, and pictured for his daughter's benefit the 
 scenes they had witnessed. 
 
 "I tell you, Madeline," he said, "it made me feel good to 
 think I had Canadian blood in me. They may act foolish 
 to get mixed up in this war, but there's no meanness about 
 the way they do it all except one millionaire." 
 
 And he chuckled as he told the story of the fiery captain. 
 
 Charles in the meanwhile was steeling himself for the 
 declaration and unable to touch his food. He answered 
 every question absent-mindedly; so much so that Mr. Ray- 
 mond, remembering the similar indifference at last night's 
 dinner, began to be concerned. 
 
 "What's the matter, Charles. Can't you be tempted?" 
 
 "The food's all right," answered Charles, resolved at last 
 to have it out. "The trouble is not of the body but of the 
 mind. I know you will think it rotten of me to spoil your 
 plans, but I may as well say it now and have done with it 
 I can't go on this hunting trip. I am sailing for England 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "Sailing for England to-morrow?" 
 
 Madeline pushed her chair back from the table in amaze- 
 ment, and Mr. Raymond's jaw fell. 
 
 "Yes," continued Charles desperately, "I've made up my 
 mind that it is my duty to enlist." 
 
 "To enlist? to go and fight? Charles, how can you?" 
 
 Madeline turned deathly white and her father was afraid 
 she was going to faint. The colour, however, gradually 
 came back, and with it a squaring of the chin and a hard 
 look in the eyes which Charles had never seen before. 
 
 "I guess this is no place to argue," said Mr. Raymond, 
 his eyebrows knitted together. "Let's go upstairs and 
 thrash it out. Waiter, give me the check." 
 
 They went in silence to the sitting-room which formed 
 part of the suite the Raymonds had secured. Mr. Raymond 
 was chewing the end of an unlighted cigar, and Madeline 
 nervously put on and took off her right hand glove. As 
 soon as the door closed behind them, she broke out. 
 
 "What do you mean, Charles? How can you explain
 
 DRUMS AFAR 317 
 
 this ? Why didn't you tell us before ? How could you lead 
 us to come on this trip, make all the arrangements for 
 guides, and then drop out? What about father and his 
 business, a fortnight of which he was giving up to please 
 you? How about me and our engagement? Are you 
 going to make a fool of me before all my friends ? Do you 
 think it honourable to leave me at a moment's notice ? Am 
 I of so little account? Do you imagine yourself already 
 my lord and master and that I must put up with whatever 
 you choose to do? That may be the English way, but 
 I expect more consideration, and I mean to have it. When 
 did you come to this decision? It all seems very sudden." 
 
 "It is sudden," said Charles, "although it should not 
 have been. I know I am at fault, first in not making this 
 decision before, and then in doing it in this way. But last 
 night opened my eyes. You, Mr. Raymond, you said a 
 few minutes ago that it made you feel good to know you 
 had Canadian blood in you. Well, I I feel ashamed that 
 I have none. These Canadians have shamed me thirty 
 thousand sailing from Quebec to-morrow to fight my battles 
 in an unknown country, and I young and strong staying be- 
 hind when I know by heart the ground where the battles 
 are being fought. The Canadian women shame me, I am 
 shamed by the Canadian men who are generously giving 
 to the wives and children of those who go. What am I 
 doing? What am I giving? Absolutely nothing." 
 
 "If it is only a question of money " began Mr. Raymond. 
 
 "No money can pay the price," said Charles bitterly. 
 "Don't think me rude, but you cannot measure duty up in 
 dollars and cents. My duty is to go and go quickly. I 
 have delayed too long. I know it is not fair to you, Mr. 
 Raymond, that I should spoil your plans you have been 
 more than good to me. And you, Madeline, it is brutal of 
 me to treat you like this go suddenly, without fair warn- 
 ing. But there is no other thing to do. To-morrow I have 
 a chance of crossing with the Canadian contingent, but if 
 so I must go on board ship in a few hours. I have given 
 my word of honour to go."
 
 318 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "You forget," said Madeline sarcastically, "you once 
 gave your word to me. An Englishman's word is his bond, 
 I suppose, unless it is given to an American woman. And, 
 by the way, it must be a funny kind of Canadian army that 
 is willing to take you, untrained, without a day of drill. Is 
 it because you are an Oxford man? Is it with brains that 
 they hope to beat the Germans?" 
 
 "I'm not going in, but only with, the Canadian army. 
 I've got the promise of a job on one of the transports as 
 a steward " 
 
 "A steward!" the other two exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes," said Charles, "it's the only way. Otherwise I 
 might have to wait. There's not a berth to purchase, every 
 ship is commandeered." 
 
 Madeline and her father looked at each other amazed. 
 Then, feeling that perhaps he had better leave his daughter 
 alone to settle this matter with Charles, Mr. Raymond said : 
 
 "I'm going for a little walk. You two can have a heart 
 to heart talk for an hour, and let me know how you stand 
 when I come back. This is certainly some mix-up, and 
 fresh air may clear my brain." 
 
 When they were alone, Madeline stood for a while at the 
 window, looking out with her back towards him, while 
 Charles leaned against a bureau furiously smoking a cigar- 
 ette. 
 
 "Madeline !" he said at last, huskily. 
 
 She turned, her eyes full of tears, her arms outstretched. 
 
 "How could you !" she cried. "How could you !" 
 
 Sobbing bitterly, with her face on his shoulder and her 
 arms round his neck, she stirred all the pity and remorse 
 that any man in such circumstances could feel. His resolu- 
 tion began to melt she was so beautiful she loved him 
 he loved her so he had been cruelly abrupt surely he 
 could delay sail by another port on another boat take 
 this hunting trip first the rifle practice would not be wasted 
 she would not find it then so hard to explain to her 
 friends these and a thousand other such alternatives 
 ricochetted through his mind. But then how could he
 
 DRUMS AFAR 319 
 
 stand another fortnight of this clinging, these embraces, 
 this appeal to his softer nature would she thus not gain 
 time to break down his intention, to make him forget his 
 duty? 
 
 He dared not take the risk. This must be farewell. 
 
 He led her to a sofa and, putting his arm round her, 
 kissed her hair and gently stroked her cheek till she was 
 calm enough to speak coherently. When she did speak, 
 it was to express the very thoughts he dreaded. 
 
 "Why go so soon?" she urged. "And why from Can- 
 ada? Why not New York, by one of the big steamers, 
 such as the Lusitania? It would be much safer, and we 
 would have time to talk things over. Can't you see how 
 unfair it is to leave me like this? We were to have been 
 married, to have been together for the rest of our lives, 
 and then overnight you decide to rush away. Every one 
 will say you have jilted me they will say it serves me 
 right for not choosing an American. And I I thought 
 you were going to become one of us. We had it all planned 
 so nicely father had promised to take you into the firm, 
 and now, because of an imaginary duty, you throw us all 
 overboard." 
 
 "Dearest, don't call it imaginary," said Charles. "I wish 
 you had been there last night to hear. Your father himself 
 was moved as I never saw him moved before. And you 
 you would have understood. There are things that a man 
 must do if he wishes to be thought a man. Look at your 
 own grandfather in the Civil War he did not hesitate 
 when the call came." 
 
 "Let the dead past bury their dead," she answered. "This 
 is another matter. Why can't you cable over first to see 
 whether you are wanted? What if you go across to find 
 that England has all the men she needs? If she were in 
 such desperate straits, surely she would have sent out 
 proclamations through the consuls or the Ambassador. We 
 have seen so little of each other, Charles, and I might never 
 see you again. Don't be more cruel to me than you can 
 help. This convoy that you talk about may hang about for
 
 320 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 days, and is sure to travel slowly. If you waited for a 
 fast boat from New York, you might still arrive in England 
 just as quick." 
 
 She nestled close to him and looked up into his eyes with 
 the appeal that he seldom resisted. She felt that he was 
 wavering, and eagerly pressed on the assault. 
 
 "This hunting trip would have been so glorious," she 
 murmured as he kissed her. "I have looked forward to it 
 so we should have been so much together, and I wanted 
 to teach you the way of the woods. Oh, there's nothing 
 like it! to steal along the lake in a canoe, to cook one's 
 meals over the camp fire, to watch the squirrels and listen 
 to the bird calls, to snuggle at night under a lean-to, and 
 look out over the glowing embers through the trees at the 
 stars. It's not so much the hunting and fishing, but it's 
 the whole life. Oh, you would love it!" 
 
 "I know I should," he answered, "particularly with you, 
 dear. But " 
 
 "But?" She trembled lest he should yet escape her, and 
 brought her last artillery to bear. "But, Charles I had 
 thought it might have been it might still be more than 
 a mere hunting trip. Suppose I am sure now that under 
 the circumstances father would not object it has come 
 so suddenly that we must do things quickly suppose that 
 we should make it not just a hunting, but a honeymoon 
 trip." 
 
 Then buried her face in his breast. 
 
 "Why," said Charles, catching eagerly at the thought, 
 "what do you mean?" 
 
 "Just this," she said. "I can do without the trousseau 
 I can do without the fashionable wedding we can surely 
 find a minister here or even a registry I can't do without 
 you, dear." 
 
 Those lips so red! 
 
 T-r-r-r-ring ! T-r-r-r-ring ! 
 
 Startled, they broke apart then laughed. It was only 
 the telephone. 
 
 Madeline lifted the receiver.
 
 DRUMS AFAR 321 
 
 "Some one calling you, Charles the name sounds like 
 Jeffers." 
 
 Jeffers it was. 
 
 "Hello, Fitzmorris. Excuse this interruption, but I 
 thought you'd better have a reminder. Met the old buck, 
 your friend, Mr. Raymond, downstairs, and went with him 
 for a stroll. He asked me about you, and told me what 
 you were here for. I can guess the situation. Now if you 
 still mean to come, be at my room at twelve o'clock sharp. 
 I have an appointment with my steamship pal at twelve- 
 fifteen, and want you to meet him and get signed on. If 
 you feel you have acted too hastily, I'll understand don't 
 blame me afterwards it all rests with your own conscience. 
 What I want to say is what I said last night. Fitzmorris, 
 we are needed over there, you and I it's a matter of life 
 and death. If you come now, you'll just make up the eight. 
 I'm going to stroke this crew myself it'll be a mixed crew, 
 but this will be better even than rowing for Leander. So 
 long, old man." 
 
 "Who was that?" asked Madeline anxiously. Some in- 
 stinct told her that there was danger. 
 
 "Jeffers, an old friend at Oxford, I met him last 
 night " 
 
 "Ah ! he was the man- 
 
 "Yes, the man I promised to go over with." 
 
 "But you won't now?" 
 
 Charles dared not look at her. In his ears rang the 
 words. "We are needed there you and I it's a matter of 
 life and death " 
 
 She caught him by the arm and clung to him. 
 
 "Say you won't now now that we are to be married 
 to-morrow if possible to-day." 
 
 All the more he dared not look her in the face. 
 
 "Charles," the words came sharply now, "you surely can't 
 refuse me when I give up everything sink my pride 
 make myself cheap just to keep you for a little while." 
 
 That was it keep him for a little while, she said, but 
 he knew it meant more. It meant that she would keep
 
 322 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 him altogether, in silken chains of ease, when those other 
 fellows over there were fighting. Once she had him in 
 her arms, with her passionate kisses, how could he tear 
 himself away? Now must be the break now, or it would 
 be too late. 
 
 Pulling himself together, he forced the words through 
 his lips. 
 
 "Madeline, I must go I'm sorry." 
 
 How lame it sounded! 
 
 Yet he had courage now to look at her, and saw that 
 her face was dark. The jet-black eyes were never so 
 black, and never so hard. He could not have believed so 
 sudden a revulsion. She was more like a wild animal at 
 bay than the Madeline he had known. 
 
 "You really mean it ?" she whispered, clutching her throat 
 as if her feelings choked her, and stepping away from him. 
 "After all I have offered almost the last that a woman 
 can offer and you surely would not ask for that and you 
 say you love me ?" 
 
 "I do love you," he protested, "but 
 
 'I could not love thee, dear, so much 
 Loved I not honour more.' " 
 
 The words seemed to sting her into fury. 
 
 "Don't waste your quotations on me," she flung at him. 
 "Keep them for your Oxford friends. Keep them also 
 for your standard of honour that breaks its word with a 
 woman. Keep also your love it is too light for me. If I 
 give myself to a man, he must be mine alone. Go back to 
 England and be a hero that is to say, if a ship's steward 
 can be a hero. If you do write to me, all I want to know 
 is, how much do you get in tips." 
 
 "Madeline !" 
 
 She burst into tears. 
 
 "Oh, I know I shouldn't have said that but you madden 
 me so. Go ! Go ! don't let me hold you back have it over 
 and done with."
 
 DRUMS AFAR 323 
 
 Some one knocked at the door. 
 
 "There's father," she cried, and let him in. 
 
 He looked at the two sadly and shook his head. 
 
 "Nothing doing?" he questioned. "Just as I feared. 
 Well, Charles, it's rough on the girl. You have given her 
 a raw deal, but I see now how it all happened. If we could 
 only arrange things to suit our own convenience, this would 
 be a wonderful world. I met your friend Mr. Jeffers. I 
 guess he's sorry he butted in, but what's done can't be 
 undone. It's all up to you now, Charles, and let me tell 
 you, whether you go or whether you stay, you can bank 
 on Henry Raymond." 
 
 Again the lump rose in Charles's throat. 
 
 "I daren't stay," he said, signifying Madeline with his 
 hand. "If I did, I might forget, and if I forgot, I should 
 be no man for any true woman. And so forgive me 
 and good-bye !" 
 
 "Good-bye, my son God bless you! Don't forget to 
 write." 
 
 It was a handshake Charles could never forget. 
 
 "Madeline," he said falteringly, "won't you forgive me? 
 Won't you say good-bye?" 
 
 She held out her hand all cold and trembling but did 
 not look at him, or say a word. His heart full of pity, and 
 shame, and yet of steadfast resolution, Charles lifted the 
 fingers to his lips, and with this last salute tore himself 
 away.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 THE Raymonds did not give up their hunting trip 
 though Mr. Raymond suggested return. Made- 
 line, however, was obstinate to show that she 
 could live her own life in the old way, and after 
 consideration her father thought she would more easily 
 forget the shock of Charles's departure in that form of life 
 which she loved the most. To the Liverpool chain of lakes 
 they therefore went, and each got the treasured trophy of a 
 moose head before September ended. Moosehunting in 
 September, however, is a sport where the thrills are of 
 short duration. A windy day is an idle day, and on such a 
 day all that the hunter usually does is to loaf around the 
 camp and pray for a cold calm morning. 
 
 Madeline, though she spent such days in fishing, had 
 ample time for reflection, and reflection made her only the 
 more bitter. In her heart she knew she still loved Charles, 
 and she would still be true to him, but she would teach him 
 a lesson would send him cold answers if any answer at all 
 to his letters, would make him suffer in silence for his lack 
 of consideration. At the end of the war, which surely 
 could not last more than a year, she would graciously for- 
 give him and take him back, contrite and handsomer than 
 ever, into her favour. 
 
 He would come back she knew he would, if only to 
 make up for his unmannerly departure, if only she said 
 the word. She realized now that it was his love for her 
 of which he had been most afraid and which had made the 
 parting so abrupt. His was a character which angered her 
 and yet which she admired strong in its very weakness, 
 boyishly sincere. He would make a good officer, she felt 
 sure, and a good husband. Therefore, although she meant 
 to punish him, she did not mean to let him go. 
 
 As time went on, however, Madeline found the punish- 
 ment was not all on one side. She won her heart's desire 
 in singing at the Thomas Concerts, but the triumph tasted 
 
 324
 
 DRUMS AFAR 325 
 
 only as ashes in her mouth. New York invited her to sing, 
 and Boston, but she found again that she had less pleasure 
 in the applause of these great critical and profitable audi- 
 ences than when she had sung alone at Lake Geneva with 
 Charles the only listener, his arm around her waist. These 
 audiences clapped their hands and forgot. In Charles's 
 heart her voice had found its home. 
 
 His letters came after the first month once a week, and 
 though she acknowledged them only with a postcard, she 
 knew them backward. The first one told her of the voyage 
 with the Canadian Contingent. 
 
 "DEAREST MADELINE, 
 
 "I can't expect to get an answer to my letters, but I 
 intend to write to you all the same. I want you always 
 to know that you are the only girl for me, and though by 
 my thoughtlessness I may have lost you let this be my 
 penance and my purgatory to tell you for ever of my love, 
 and never to know whether my love will be again returned. 
 
 "I signed on as steward on the Virginian, and an interest- 
 ing trip it was. That was because of Jeffers who by some 
 mysterious influence had got six no seven other Oxford 
 men besides ourselves into the same kind of job on the 
 same boat. You were right about the convoy hanging 
 about. Although we were on the ship within three hours 
 of the time I said good-bye to you, we had to hang about in 
 harbour for a whole week before we even left for Quebec. 
 Every day we expected to leave next morning, and when 
 some of the ship's crew brought the rumour that the Expe- 
 ditionary Force had already sailed for England we could 
 do nothing but curse our luck and hope for the best. 
 
 "At last we lifted anchor and started down the St. Law- 
 rence. The maple leaf had turned, and the woods on the 
 banks of the river were one blaze of scarlet and russet and 
 gold. Towards evening we reached Quebec with its high 
 rock-set citadel and great Chateau overlooking the waiting 
 convoy every ship painted grey surely a sight to stir the 
 heart. 
 
 "Some of the transports were already loaded. Our
 
 326 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 consignment came on next day; a battalion from Van- 
 couver a curious mixture of men from the forests and the 
 mines and the orchards and the cities many of them evi- 
 dently Englishmen and some who knew their officers by 
 their first names. 
 
 "We hung about three more days waiting till all the 
 troops had embarked before we set off again down stream. 
 It was a perfect day, and the gleam of sunshine on the 
 church spires and the little white French Canadian villages 
 made a picture of strange charm. At Gaspe again we had 
 another two days' wait, some said because of submarines. 
 We were thirty-one transports in all, and only four light 
 cruisers in sight to protect us. That, however, did not 
 concern me. I was thinking all the time of you, knowing 
 you were somewhere in Nova Scotia just to the south, and 
 picturing you out on the edge of a lake calling moose as you 
 did that first wonderful evening on Lake Geneva. 
 
 "Those days of waiting were as it happened our salva- 
 tion. Jeffers from the very first took us in hand, and in 
 his own language stroked the crew to victory. You see, 
 we were a crew of eight, with one little Balliol man as cox. 
 He had a manual of all the duties of a steward, and with 
 that, and with some friendly advice from the old hands, and 
 with common sense and our remembrance of what we 
 ourselves expected when we were passengers we came out 
 on top. It was indeed dramatic justice that we, the Oxford 
 men who in our day had looked askance at all Canadians 
 as uppish, were now their humble servants. 
 
 "I mimicked the manner of Silas, my old scout at Christ 
 Church, admirable soul, and dropped my aitches like a 
 true-born Cockney. But unlike that of Silas my service 
 was beyond reproach. I anticipated every wish, brought 
 grape fruit or a slice of melon and a cup of tea with thin 
 bread and butter to each of my passengers at seven, never 
 murmured when they asked for breakfast in bed, valeted 
 them, polished their buttons, piled up William pears in the 
 fruit-dishes at my table when the rest had only last year's 
 apples, never kept any one waiting and made myself so
 
 DRUMS AFAR 327 
 
 generally useful that none of them went off without giving 
 me at least ten dollars one gave fifty. Yes, my dear, your 
 sarcasm hurt me when you talked of tips, but Jeffers taught 
 us otherwise. He said that for the sake of his pal in 
 Montreal we must earn our keep and play the game, and 
 we did play it, every man Jack of us, down to the Balliol 
 man who worked in the scullery. 
 
 "I used to sneer at Balliol men, but now I take off my 
 hat to them more especialy to one, the Honourable 
 Algernon Augustus Clarence Mountjoy, who on this voyage 
 washed the dishes. Poor devil, he was seasick on the river 
 before the vessel started, but though he suffered agonies 
 all the way across he stuck to his job like a man. 
 
 "One night we all started rotting him about Balliol, and 
 at once out of a meek little dish-washer he became a regular 
 spitfire. Afterwards I took him aside and calmed him 
 down, and he poured out his whole diminutive soul to me. 
 It was all tied up in Balliol. He quoted verses by Hilaire 
 Belloc which I had never heard before but which seemed 
 to me superb. This is one of them : 
 
 "Here is a House that armours a man 
 With the eyes of a boy and the heart of a ranger 
 And a laughing way in the teeth of the world 
 And a holy hunger for thirst and danger ; 
 Balliol made me, Balliol fed me, 
 Whatever I had she gave me again; 
 And the best of Balliol loved me and led me ; 
 God be with you, Balliol men." 
 
 "Out of our nine Oxford men, three were rowing blues 
 (two Magdalen, one New College), and all the rest had 
 rowed for their College either in Eights or Torpids. On 
 the river I should probably have been the weakest of the 
 crew, but as a steward Jeffers said I gave them all points. 
 
 "We left the shores of Canada in three great lines. The 
 Virginian was on the right in the centre of the line with the 
 Corinthian just ahead. We went slow so as to keep to- 
 gether and prayed that it should not be rough. Nearly all 
 our passage was calm, and the only one really unhappy was
 
 328 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 the Honourable Algernon Augustus, etc. With us, though 
 mostly out of sight, were at least four battleships, and on 
 the second day out the Dreadnought Glory came to look us 
 over. One fine day we saw the Princess Royal, a Super- 
 dreadnought with a terrific speed which looked as if it could 
 by itself stand up against the whole German fleet. Who 
 would have thought that the little Canadian Army would 
 get such attention from the Lords of the Admiralty? 
 This was one Naval Review the Kaiser was sorry he could 
 not attend. 
 
 "As we came nearer England, H. M. S. Majestic, another 
 Dreadnought, hove in sight, and the approach to Plymouth 
 swarmed with destroyers and torpedo-boats. The coming of 
 our Armada evidently had made an impression, and Plymouth 
 Hoe was black with people who had gathered to see us. 
 
 "After another day of waiting, the Canadians went off 
 to Salisbury Plain. Jeffers worked the oracle for me and 
 the rest of the eight so that we were paid off, and at last 
 after one solid month on board ship arrived in London. 
 Now I am a full-fledged private in the Public Schools 
 Battalion of the Royal Fusiliers, and kicking myself be- 
 cause I never joined the O.T.C. (Officers' Training Corps) 
 at Christ Church. Still I can see this is the highway to a 
 commission, and the hard work does me good have 
 dropped three pounds already of too, too solid flesh. 
 
 "My dear, there are hateful rumours in the air. Kitchen- 
 er, they say, is too old and has been too long in the East. 
 There are too many Germans high up in the ranks of 
 both Army and Navy. We need, not half a million but 
 five million men to win the war. I think if you were in 
 England now, Madeline, and heard what I hear, you would 
 see that I did right to come. 
 
 "Till we meet again, 
 
 "CHARLES." 
 
 His second letter must have contained some information 
 that the censors did not wish to get abroad for it arrived 
 in such mutilated form that little was legible except the 
 terms of endearment. 
 
 The third was evidently considered harmless :
 
 DRUMS AFAR 329 
 
 "MY DEAREST MADELINE, 
 
 "I had a day's leave yesterday and used it up at Oxford. 
 What a change is there! Although it is full term, the 
 lecture rooms are empty, hall is deserted, and the usual 
 afternoon swarm of rowing men in shorts and sweaters 
 and scarfs and blazers pouring down through Meadows to 
 the barges swarms no more. Hardly an undergraduate, 
 except some crocks and Indians and Americans well, 
 their call has yet to come. 
 
 "The Dons are much perturbed at the possibility of 
 Zeppelins attacking Magdalen Tower, the loveliest thing in 
 England, but are busy in the meanwhile turning their col- 
 leges into convalescent homes. The Examination Schools, 
 in which three thousand youths each year used to suffer 
 agonies worse than most operations, are now transformed 
 into a hospital with cases which I believe are sick, not 
 wounded. I think of the hours I spent on the rack in 
 that resplendent torture chamber, and rejoice that the scene 
 of such mental anguish now is changed to the alleviation 
 of physical distress. 
 
 "If ever I am wounded, let me come here to convalesce. 
 Surely it were easy to get well again among these quiet 
 buildings with their grey quadrangles and pinnacled square 
 towers and swards and lovely gardens. Oxford as yet is 
 only a name to you you never saw this city of a thousand 
 years. And yet I think, if only you had seen it for an 
 hour, you would have fallen in love with its serenity. 
 Serene it is, even though its streets be thronged with eager 
 youth how much more serene when youth has flown! 
 
 "I went to service at Christ Church Cathedral, and as 
 it chanced one of the hymns they sang was 'O Come All 
 Ye Faithful' Adeste Fideles just as we sang it together 
 that Sunday only four months ago in the church of St. 
 Margaret's, Westminster. I shut my eyes and fancied I 
 could hear your voice beside me still. 
 
 "Some day we must stand together in that Cathedral 
 and look up at the delicate tracery on the roof over the 
 chancel and at the eight-petalled rose-window above the 
 altar. Behind the altar are two Norman arches and the
 
 330 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 Cathedral itself is mostly Norman, dating from the days 
 when your ancestors and mine were very likely neighbours. 
 
 "I don't know whether the bells in the bell tower at 
 Christ Church are Norman too, but they came from Osney 
 Abbey which was Norman. The rhyme which names them 
 runs : 'Hautclerc, Douce, Clement, Austin, Marie, Gabriel et 
 John' a musical company, is it not? just right for wed- 
 ding bells. 
 
 "But the sweetest of all to me is the sound of the great 
 bell Tom, who gave to Tom Quad its name, Great Tom 
 who rings every night at nine o'clock one hundred and 
 ten notes in a deep B flat. His echoes will surely ring in 
 the ears of most Oxford men until all echoes are lost in 
 the sound of the Last Trump. 
 
 "There goes Reveille Good-bye. 
 
 "Ever your loving, 
 
 "CHARLES." 
 
 Another letter which reached Madeline early in Decem- 
 ber read as follows : 
 
 "DEAREST, 
 
 "How happy I was to get your postcard. I know now 
 that you are not going to cut me off altogether. 
 
 "I saw the notice of your concert in a Chicago paper 
 your mother's dearly beloved Daily News. It has an office 
 off Trafalgar Square with a sign that you can't miss, so 
 last time I was on leave I dropped in to put my name down 
 as a subscriber. Sing away, sweetheart every time you 
 sing in public I shall hear of it, for you evidently made a 
 big hit with that wonderful deep voice of yours. I wish 
 the fellow who wrote the criticism had said less about your 
 soul and more about your dress I could have pictured 
 you better if he had given the colour and style. 
 
 "When we were at Lake Geneva, we used to tell each 
 other all our inmost thoughts, and in these letters I shall 
 keep on telling you mine. Just now of course I live on war, 
 or rather on the preparations for war: drills, rifle practice, 
 marching, fatigues, pickets, guards and bayonet exercise 
 that's what worries me most. Can I ever bring myself
 
 DRUMS AFAR 331 
 
 to stab a real human German with that ghastly weapon? 
 Do I hate the breed so much ? With a rifle at five hundred 
 yards it would be different one wouldn't see the blood or 
 hear the death-rattle, but this hand to hand butchery is 
 another thing. What if I met my friend Karl Schmidt, 
 the chemist son of dear old Frau Pastorin, with whom 
 I spent such happy days at Gottingen? Could I ever de- 
 liberately spike him against a wall? 
 
 "I wonder how much war there would be if all the 
 autocrats and bureaucrats were swept away and the de- 
 cision rested with those who had actually to do the fight- 
 ing. From what I read and hear, the French people 
 had no voice in the matter. The avalanche swept upon 
 them unawares. Even more so with the Belgians, who 
 now are flooding England with their tales of horror. So, 
 too, I believe it is with the vast proportion of the Germans 
 themselves, who kill because they have been told to kill, 
 not because they like it. They more than any other nation 
 are in the hands of a military clique. 
 
 "And yet the feeling of race is above all logic or reason, 
 and even though I knew that England was wrong to fight 
 and after all she was not wrong I could never have 
 forgiven myself if I had stayed out of the struggle. I 
 should have been that wretchedest of creatures, the Man 
 without a Country. I shall just have to steel myself to 
 carry through discipline, I suppose will do it so I am 
 shirking nothing that will make me a better soldier. 
 
 "The avalanche has started, and nothing can stop it now. 
 All we can do is to divert it, so that our own great heritage 
 should not be overwhelmed. 
 
 "Ever your faithful 
 
 "CHARLES." 
 
 In January she received a letter that caused her some 
 disquiet : 
 
 "Dearest Madeline, 
 
 "Three postcards from you now thrice happy I. 
 
 "The last arrived on New Year's Day. This is going to be 
 a wonderful New Year for me.
 
 332 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "My father has quite a pull in Government circles and 
 last week wangled a commission for me so that I am now 
 Second Lieutenant Fitzmorris of the th (deleted by 
 Censor) Battalion, Royal Warwickshire Regiment. While 
 up at the War Office he met an Intelligence Johnnie who 
 expressed a wish to meet me, so he arranged a lunch at the 
 Junior Carlton. I thought this Johnnie rather inquisitive 
 asked me all about America, when I got back, and so forth. 
 I told him everything quite frankly and was glad I did, 
 for when I had finished my Arabian Night's Tale he re- 
 marked 'That agrees exactly with your German dossier.' 
 I nearly fell off my chair. 'What do you mean?' I asked. 
 Whereat he took a sheet of paper out of his pocket, saying, 
 'Here is the translation of a page from the archives of the 
 German espionage headquarters: 
 
 "'Fitzmorris, Charles height 1.83 metres; hair blond, 
 curly ; eyes light blue ; face square ; finger-print attached. 
 Speaks German fluently with more Hanoverian than Eng- 
 lish accent. 
 
 ''September, 1911 found under suspicious circumstan- 
 ces studying roads and places of military importance between 
 Kriit in Alsace and frontier during secret manoeuvres. Car- 
 ried military maps out of date but instructive. Claimed 
 to be student of history at Oxford. Known to have sent 
 numerous apparently innocuous postcards to American lady 
 by name Madeline Raymond ostensibly studying music and 
 residing formerly at same pension in Strasburg with whom 
 and her alleged mother he had made extensive motor-trips. 
 Identified by Rww and released with caution. Shortly 
 after left Germany by unusual tourist route and spent day 
 at Trier during important troop movements. 
 
 " 'December, 1911, to January, 1912 Reported by Cpp as 
 having made careful study of military roads in Belgium 
 and France (Nord) on pretext of studying campaigns of 
 Marlborough. Speaks excellent French. 
 
 " 'April, 1912 Repeated visit to Belgium on same pretext. 
 
 " 'August, 1912 Passed Final Examinations in History 
 at Oxford University with honours. Answers to examina-
 
 DRUMS AFAR 333 
 
 tion papers secured by Lbb, and those dealing with cam- 
 paigns on Rhine and in Alsace sent for report to Staff- 
 General v. Clausewitz. Report (attached) states grasp of 
 military topography shown by C.F. quite remarkable and 
 recommends C. F. be kept under close observation, particu- 
 larly if he enters British army or associates with suspects. 
 
 " 'May, 1913 Reported as active director of illustrated 
 weekly newspaper Pen and Pencil, responsible for sensational 
 number on "The Coming War Between Slav and Teuton." 
 
 " 'July, 1914 Sailed for New York as cabin passenger on 
 s.s. St. Louis. On day of landing left for Boston with 
 fellow passengers Raymond of Chicago (cf. item Septem- 
 ber, 1911). Same company to Newport, Rhode Island 
 (naval station) with which he had been in wireless com- 
 munication during voyage. Same company to Chicago 
 where he resided with lawyer Michael Kelly, Irish- American 
 but Anglophil. Cabled twice to father in London. Replies 
 evidently in secret code. 
 
 " 'August, 1914 Father of C.F. appointed to important 
 post in British Treasury. C.F. resided with Raymonds at 
 Lake Geneva, summer resort Wisconsin. Motored with 
 Madeline Raymond alone frequently through foreign set- 
 tlements (including German) of that State. Paid several 
 visits to Chicago to purchase maps of war area. 
 
 " 'September, 1914 Left with Madeline Raymond and 
 father Henry Raymond ostensibly on hunting trip to Nova 
 Scotia. Stopped off at Montreal and leaving Raymonds 
 shipped disguised as steward on s.s. Virginian after visit 
 to steamship official known to be in confidence of British 
 Government. Probably spy in British service looking out for 
 Kmm who however was warned in time. Tkk detailed to 
 watch Raymonds (see file Raymond Madeline and Henry). 
 
 " 'October, 1914 Immediately on arrival Plymouth left 
 for London with eight other stewards, all of whom travelled 
 first class on train. Joined Public Schools Battalion of the 
 Royal Fusiliers as private. Under close observation. 
 Writes letters to Madeline Raymond and receives postcard, 
 copy attached, probably in secret code. Gvv instructed to 
 decipher.'
 
 334 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "This may give you some idea of the ramifications of the 
 German spy system. Can you imagine anything more 
 devilish, more ingenious and more perverted? The most 
 innocent acts are twisted about your postcards become 
 mysterious documents. And yet there is a modicum of 
 truth you remember my telling you about my escapade at 
 Kriit after you had left Strasburg. If all the German 
 espionage reports are made with equal industry and equal 
 lack of intelligence, no wonder that Berlin imagined Ire- 
 land would revolt, India would break adrift, and the 
 British Colonies would stand aloof. 
 
 "The 'Rww' referred to was evidently Baron v. Gleyn, 
 the Rhodes Scholar from Berlin at Christ Church whom we 
 always nicknamed 'Kaiser Bill's Best Friend.' 
 
 "What does please me in this affair is that Staff-General 
 v. Clause witz should have thought so much of my examina- 
 tion papers. I wish he had had the giving of degrees. I 
 might then have got a First Class instead of my Second, 
 but then I might have become a Don, and never tried my 
 luck in Fleet Street, and never heard of your concert, and 
 never met you again! So after all, thank heaven I was 
 judged by a mere Englishman! 
 
 "After I had got over the shock of perusing this docu- 
 ment, I was relieved to think that our fellows also were 
 not asleep otherwise how could they have secured this 
 remarkable document? 
 
 "The result of it all is that I have now a War Office 
 appointment in prospect, and expect more intellectual em- 
 ployment. No time for more just now, but remember the 
 note 'Tkk detailed to watch Raymonds' I hope this means 
 no inconvenience to you. Better let your father know, as 
 this German spy may do some burglaring to pass the time 
 between postcards. 
 
 "I don't think I have said anything indiscreet in my let- 
 ters to you, dear, but better burn my letters. I may have to 
 write less in future. You won't be angry, will you, dear? 
 You understand? This revelation makes me nervous. 
 "Ever your loving 
 
 "CHARLES."
 
 DRUMS AFAR 335 
 
 This was followed ten days later by a letter from Paris. 
 
 "DEAREST MADELINE, 
 
 "Things are moving fast now. 
 
 "I have been in the front line trenches in Flanders, and 
 also have seen the devastation wrought by the Germans on 
 the Marne. If I had any doubts before as to the right to 
 kill these fiends, they are all gone now. They are beyond 
 the pale. If only the bare facts of the way they treated 
 the women were printed in American newspapers, the 
 United States surely could not stay neutral. Nothing so 
 terrible has happened in Europe these ten centuries. 
 
 "I have written and send you a poem which I am also 
 sending to Life so far as we can see here, the most 
 courageous of your American publications. If they print 
 it, cut it out and paste it on one of your postcards. Here 
 it is: 
 
 IN THE GERMAN SCHOOL 
 
 B for the Blood that Stains all Flanders Red. 
 
 E for the Exile Brooding o'er Her Dead. 
 
 L for the Lash on the Unhappy Slave. 
 
 G for the Gallows at the Convent Door. 
 
 I for the Innocence No Girl Could Save. 
 
 U for the Unborn, Better No Wife Bore. 
 
 M for the Last Sad Mercy of the Grave. 
 
 "I had promised to write to you every week, but fate 
 alas is forcing me once more to break my promise ! I am 
 attached now to the French army, and expect to go in a few 
 days on a confidential mission, so confidential that it is 
 better I should not write to any one at all. This letter 
 therefore is to say Good-bye you may not hear of me, or 
 from me, till the end of the war. If you do, it will probably 
 be that I am wounded, or 
 
 "Dearest heart, I have your miniature with a lock of your 
 hair, and the pin with the inscription 
 
 'Madeline Raymond to Charles Fitzmorris 
 Who did his little bit.'
 
 336 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "Well, I'm going to 'do my little bit,' so pray for me. 
 
 "Everything else must be left behind. I have sent the 
 intimate things to my father whose address you know and 
 who will be the first to hear in case of accident. He has 
 your address and will cable you. 
 
 "Dearest, dearest heart, what can I say more except that 
 I love you, and I love you, and I love you. 
 
 "CHARLES." 
 
 After a night of bitter tears Madeline brought the letter 
 to her father. 
 
 "Read it," she said. 
 
 He took it in slowly, as if spelling it, letter by letter. 
 
 At last, with a sigh, he said: 
 
 "When do you want to go?" 
 
 "How did you know I meant to go?" she exclaimed. 
 
 "I know you had a heart," he answered with a grim 
 smile. 
 
 "You lovely Father," she said, with a hug and a kiss. 
 "Of course I couldn't stay. How could I have the patience 
 to wait for any such cable ? All this last month I have been 
 thinking and thinking, " 
 
 Then with a catch of her breath, 
 
 "Father, I can't keep on with this concert singing any 
 more. Every time I see these rows of fat, contented faces, 
 it makes me ill. I think of the torn, maimed, shattered 
 peoples over in Europe and ask myself, 'What are we 
 doing we Americans who always claim to speak for hu- 
 manity are we dead to the rest of the world?' I at least 
 have a voice, and if I sing any more it will be to the 
 wounded, to the broken-hearted, to those poor fellows who 
 are lying in hospital and to the refugees who have lost 
 their homes." 
 
 "That's the girl," said Mr. Raymond heartily, "I'm with 
 you. If you want me to go to England with you, say the 
 word." 
 
 "No, no ! You have your business," she answered, "and 
 Mother had better stay with you too. Don't worry about 
 me. I can manage alone."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 THUS it was that Madeline found herself a pas- 
 senger in somewhat mixed company on the s.s. 
 New Amsterdam and bound for England. De- 
 lightful though the ship itself was with its com- 
 fortable cabins and Japanese Tearoom panelled in lacquer 
 and inlay and Delft, she felt all the time a mysterious 
 oppression as if some one were watching her particularly 
 after she found the lock in her writing case had been tam- 
 pered with. Anticipating something of the kind, Mr. Ray- 
 mond had amused himself during the week before Madeline 
 sailed in inventing and printing a bogus code, the endeavour 
 to understand which would, he said, drive any one "bug- 
 house" within a week. 
 
 The voyage across the Atlantic took eight days, and 
 though diligent inquiry failed to discover any actual lunatic 
 on board on the last day the distracted and careworn ap- 
 pearance of a passenger in the adjoining cabin, a lady from 
 Chicago who claimed acquaintance with her father and who 
 at first had been particularly ingratiating, but who became 
 ruder and ruder as time flew by, gave Madeline a shrewd 
 suspicion as to the identity of the unknown "Tkk." 
 
 There were numbers of German Americans on board, 
 nominally bound for Holland, but openly boastful of in- 
 tended visits to Berlin, and although all discussion of the 
 war was taboo the passengers soon automatically divided 
 into three groups, Pro-Ally, Neutral and Pro-German. The 
 nucleus of the first of these was formed by Canadian moth- 
 ers and wives and sisters going to England to be nearer 
 their soldiers. Among these Madeline made good friends, 
 all the more so when they found that she had Canadian 
 ancestry and had a fiance in the British Army. The Neutral 
 Americans overheard disparaging remarks by indiscreet 
 Pro-Allies, and showed their resentment by keeping aloof. 
 
 337
 
 338 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 Arrived in London, Madeline at once called up Mr. Fitz- 
 morris, and over a dainty luncheon in Jermyn Street fell 
 in love with that amiable character. He was now, he said, 
 a grass widower, as his wife had deserted him for her 
 convalescent home in Surrey, while his unmarried daughter 
 was now doing V. A. D. work in Devon. 
 
 She confessed to him that her heart's desire was to learn 
 to nurse, for even before she left Chicago she had decided 
 that mere singing to the wounded and the refugee was in- 
 sufficient vocation, and that if Charles should ever come 
 back maimed she must be the one to look after him. 
 
 Her Canadian steamer friends could not help her in this 
 ambition, for only fully qualified nurses of at least three 
 years' standing were accepted by the Canadian Red Cross. 
 England, however, was getting ready to become a gigantic 
 hospital, and the happy way of the St. John Ambulance 
 and the V. A. D. was open to the less certificated. 
 
 From the experience of his daughter Mr. Fitzmorris was 
 able to show Madeline all the back ways into a hitherto 
 haughty profession, and for four months she worked hard 
 at First Aid, Home Nursing, Hygiene and Sanitation. The 
 work had to be done amid many distractions, for houses 
 which she could otherwise have broken into only with a 
 pole-axe, now took no "No" from this accomplished sympa- 
 thizer from Chicago, so that she survived the surfeit of 
 luncheons, teas, at homes, bazaars and dinners, on top of 
 demands for a thousand and one performances for charity, 
 only by dint of rude health and a nimble brain. 
 
 Then came the wave of horror that swept through Eng- 
 land at the loss of the Lusitania. If she had felt sympa- 
 thetic to the Allied Cause before, how much more so was 
 she now at this slaughter of the innocents. A friend of hers, 
 a mother of eighteen months, was drowned with her baby ; 
 another escaped, a human wreck, to sob the tale. 
 
 "How thankful I am," Madeline wrote to her father, "that 
 I took up this work when I did the help that I can give 
 now is a real help, not idle words. Tell every woman you 
 meet, not to delay, but train at once to be a nurse. There 
 is so much to learn, and this war sweeps along so swiftly.
 
 DRUMS AFAR 339 
 
 It is impossible for the United States to stand aloof for 
 long. The Writing is on the Wall." 
 
 The hospital which her St. John Ambulance certificate 
 enabled her to enter was in the somewhat depressing at- 
 mosphere of Bloomsbury, with trained nurses at the head 
 eked out by V. A. D.'s. Rising at five she was permitted 
 by a somewhat supercilious Sister during the day to arrange 
 trays, wash faces and take temperatures. Two months later 
 she was graciously permitted to bind simple dressings and 
 was given more responsible work in the wards. The effi- 
 ciency and willingness shown in the smallest things she 
 did attracted the attention of the Matron, who at the end 
 of six months advanced her to work that before the war 
 would only have been entrusted to a fully certificated nurse. 
 The charm of her voice made every one in the hospital her 
 friend, so that her quick promotion raised but little jeal- 
 ousy. 
 
 Now she took up massage, photo- and hydrotherapy, and 
 eight months later could hold her own at this with anybody. 
 She was still, however, only a V. A. D. with veil tucked 
 in behind her hair, not flying loose. When, therefore, at the 
 Hospital a certain Royal Personage was publicly reduced to 
 tears by her sympathetic rendering of "Ae Fond Kiss," and 
 when the Daily Mail with eagle eye and inaccurate phrase 
 re-discovered the heroine of the "Under No Patronage" 
 Concert, and nicknamed her the Singing Sister, she was em- 
 barrassed lest the fully-fledged Sisters at the Hospital should 
 think her presumptuous. The Daily Mirror, whose photog- 
 rapher she therefore avoided, cabled wildly to Chicago for 
 her portrait, only to be forestalled by Jones, who in Pen 
 and Pencil once more gave her a page. The Daily Mirror 
 retorted with a pen-and-ink sketch of her at her next per- 
 formance, describing her as "that unique event in musical 
 history, a concert photographer who refuses to be photo- 
 graphed." 
 
 In due course Mr. Fitzmorris arranged a meeting with 
 Colonel Belsize, the Intelligence Johnnie. This thin, aqui- 
 line ramrod six-footer, with his monocle, his long moustache 
 and his military drawl, resembled so much a Colonel out
 
 340 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 of Punch that Madeline found it difficult not to laugh when- 
 ever she met him. But he was kindness itself, and showed 
 such genuine interest in her concern for Charles that she 
 would have done anything for him short of falling in love. 
 
 "What I really do want you to do," she said one confi- 
 dential day, "is to get my dossier from Berlin the one 
 marked Raymond Madeline and Henry, referred to in one 
 about Charles." 
 
 "H'm, h'm," he answered a little stiffly, "the fellow who 
 got that is now too cold to be even sorry. He lies in a 
 prison underground, six feet by two, somewhere in Ger- 
 many. But still for a lady one could at least try." 
 
 "Oh, not yourself !" she exclaimed. 
 
 "Why not ?" he asked with elephantine tenderness. 
 
 "Why," she answered, "because then I would have no one 
 to tell me about Charles." 
 
 "To be sure to be sure " 
 
 But the dossier was never produced. 
 
 Sunday evenings she always tried to reserve for Mr. 
 Fitzmorris to whose room she came and sang the old-fash- 
 ioned songs he loved : "By Dimpled Brook," "Cupid's Gar- 
 den," "The Milking Pail," "Primroses Deck the Bank's 
 Green Side." These were the songs that old Mr. Mainwar- 
 ing also seemed to like, so she brought the two together, 
 the artist and the stock broker, and very friendly they be- 
 came widely differing though their tastes and sympathies 
 were in other directions. 
 
 The Mainwarings could not hear too much of the city 
 where Viola lived, and Madeline felt sometimes as if the 
 pleasure she seemed to give these elderly folk was itself re- 
 ward for her trip across the Atlantic. Frank Mainwaring 
 she did not meet. He was now in France but more or less 
 safely employed in camouflage. 
 
 Jones, the editor of Pen and Pencil, was another of 
 Charles's friends whom she sought out and found delight- 
 ful. Unlike Charles, who had never pursued this much 
 married man to his lair and to whom the little Joneses were 
 intangible nightmares, she visited his overcrowded but con- 
 tented suburb, played and sang herself into the hearts of
 
 DRUMS AFAR 341 
 
 the little ones, brought them Fuller candies, persuaded the 
 three youngest of them that Fairyland was merely another 
 name for America. 
 
 Jones unearthed for her benefit, from the files of Pen and 
 Pencil, some of Charles's two and a half inch poems, and 
 these she now treasured with the care a mother keeps the 
 first school exercises of her children. Some of the poems 
 were immature, but some again seemed to her to express 
 the feeling and colour and the atmosphere of the England 
 she herself was beginning to love. 
 
 The desire to know and to make herself pleasant to 
 Charles's friends had a softening and sweetening effect upon 
 her character. The tenderness which had enveloped every 
 thought of him made her more human than she might have 
 been if he had still pursued and wooed her. Every day 
 she seemed to become more womanly and less queenly; 
 and, when her father paid a flying visit to England in Octo- 
 ber, he was secretly delighted at the change. For, though 
 he had been impressed by her bravura when she first re- 
 turned to Europe, this was a quality more to admire than 
 to love. 
 
 The fever that infected all who worked with her in the 
 hospital came over Madeline also to get to France and see 
 something nearer the front. The opportunity came through 
 an actress who asked her to join a troup of entertainers vis- 
 iting the Recreation Huts and Theatres behind the billets 
 in a certain part of France. 
 
 The Hospital gave her a short leave, so for one thrilling 
 fortnight she entered and helped to bring light into the 
 Valley of the Shadow. 
 
 Hardly had she come back to England when the dread 
 news arrived. Colonel Belsize sent her a note: 
 
 "Charles is wounded seriously but not fatally. He has 
 been brought back from a paste de secours to the hopital 
 d' evacuation at Creil. You must be patient and wait till he 
 is well enough to be transferred to a base hospital before 
 you can see him, as the French authorities are opposed to 
 any one not engaged in military duty going into the war
 
 342 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 zone. He is in good hands. Be patient, my dear Miss Ray- 
 mond it will not be long now. 
 
 "The wound is in the left arm, and there is shell shock 
 which affects the lower part of the body. Brain perfectly 
 sound. If there are no complications, he may be moved in 
 a week." 
 
 The week passed into a month of growing anxiety, and 
 still Charles was not transferred. Then Colonel Belsize 
 himself went over with authority and promised to bring back 
 better news. 
 
 The news was bitter mixed with sweet. 
 
 "The operation," he began, "was successful." 
 
 "What operation?" She suddenly felt faint. 
 
 "His arm it had to go. But he will be here now defi- 
 nitely in three weeks. I myself brought him to Royaumont 
 it was just in time. There is so much to do at the hos- 
 pitals in the war zone everything has to be rough and 
 ready. But these women doctors at Royaumont are won- 
 ders they deserve to get the vote they will pull him 
 through. Before I left I was assured he was out of danger." 
 
 Madeline knew all about this Scottish Women's Hospital, 
 established by former militant suffragettes, in the beautiful 
 old French Abbey, and was consoled that he was in such 
 hands, though shocked at his loss. 
 
 "Does he know I am here?" she asked. 
 
 "He was unconscious when I saw him," replied the 
 Colonel. "I thought perhaps you might like to tell him 
 yourself. But I secured more details of how he got his 
 wound. He had been scouting by himself in particularly 
 dangerous country and was bringing back some priceless 
 information when a stray shell got him. His report was 
 fortunately written down in that small clear script which 
 you probably know, so that his mission was successful. He 
 must have been wonderfully cool because in the same note- 
 book, evidently written at the same time in the shell hole 
 was a little poem which he must have composed while wait- 
 ing. Here it is I got it from a friend at French Head- 
 quarters, who knows English well and was deeply inter- 
 ested :
 
 DRUMS AFAR 343 
 
 'From the grey sky 
 
 A little white snowflake 
 
 Came floating, and I 
 
 Laughingly sought to take 
 
 This for a kiss. So near 
 
 It came ! But death 
 
 Lay in that warm breath 
 
 And touched my cheek with a tear/ 
 
 There was more than one cheek touched with a tear. 
 
 "Now," said the Colonel, "shall I get you permission to 
 go to Royaumont? It is not very far from Paris." 
 
 Madeline did not answer for a while. 
 
 "No," she said at last. "Not now. I shall wait till he 
 comes over." 
 
 Colonel Belsize was evidently astonished. 
 
 "You women are incomprehensible," he said. "For the 
 last month you have been ready to move heaven and earth 
 to go to Charles in the forbidden zone, and now when he 
 is in the permissible Royaumont, you say 'No, I shall wait.' " 
 
 "It isn't that I don't long to go," she answered, "but 
 since you went to France I have been thinking things over. 
 You must remember that I have been in France myself and 
 know conditions there. This is no time for joy-riding, and 
 it is not fair to those who are so overwhelmed with work 
 that any one not absolutely needed should come along. I 
 was too selfish once before, and I have learned my lesson. 
 Charles when he knows will understand. Now that you say 
 he is out of danger, I have a better plan. I want you to 
 use your influence so that when he is removed to England, 
 he is brought to our hospital here, into a private ward. I 
 can arrange the rest. But don't let him know that I am 
 here or that he will be under my care. It must be all a 
 surprise." 
 
 "If Charles was cool-headed," said the Intelligence John- 
 nie, "so are you. I wish I could be in the front row when 
 the play is staged."
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 THE night which shrouded London seemed all the 
 darker for the shaded lamps which were all that 
 the military authorities allowed in these days of 
 Zeppelins. Even inside the station at Charing 
 Cross there was barely enough light to distinguish the plat- 
 form from the track. Those passengers who did arrive 
 by any train hurried away as quickly as they could to home 
 or hotel where behind the blinds one at least could see. 
 
 The Red Cross train was due from France, and Made- 
 line, who had made all the necessary arrangements for 
 Charles's reception at the hospital, arrangements in which 
 for a time at least she would stay in the unseen background, 
 had come to see this train come in. 
 
 Dark rings surrounded her dark eyes, for the strain of 
 anxious waiting was beginning to tell and it seemed as if 
 she could not smile yet smile she did each time in the 
 gloom she deciphered a large sign in three languages of 
 which one read "Fahrkarten Ausgabe" some of these Eng- 
 lish had apparently not yet, after two years, awakened to 
 the fact that there was war with Germany. 
 
 Then at the west side of the station one of the arc lamps 
 spluttered into a bright violet, then another, and so on till 
 the platform shone with a strange brilliance. A crowd had 
 gathered now and lined the road from the platform gates 
 to the arched exit from the station men in blue uniforms 
 with white caps were moving in, and on the platform itself 
 one could see motor cars and a row of covered vans on 
 the side of which was painted the Red Cross. 
 
 Madeline joined the crowd and peered over to the high 
 gates which kept the platform private. So quietly one 
 hardly knew it entered, the Red Cross train moved in. She 
 could see the carriage doors thrown open and the white caps 
 of the ambulance men moving here and there. Some of 
 the wounded were able to hobble out themselves, others 
 were carried out on stretchers to the waiting vans. 
 
 344
 
 DRUMS AFAR 345 
 
 A girl in the crowd sold flowers at a penny a piece as 
 fast as she could hand them out. 
 
 Then the gates swung out for the first of the motor 
 cars. Handkerchiefs were waved and the crowd cheered as 
 these wounded officers passed out, covered with the roses 
 that were showered upon them. It was small tribute to 
 those who had gone out so bravely, but it was a beautiful 
 tribute this rain of fragrant red and white roses and 
 many that saw it for the first time, and for the second time, 
 and for the twentieth time, could not hold back their tears. 
 
 Convalescent these wounded evidently were, for they 
 were cheerful as the crowd itself were they not back in 
 Blighty ? waved their hands and laughed as they caught at 
 the roses. 
 
 "Give me a dozen," Madeline said to the flower girl. 
 
 Making them into a posy she got ready to throw it into 
 the next car. Too late, however, for it passed out quickly. 
 There were, however, many still to follow. 
 
 "There's more room outside the station," said a police- 
 man, "you can see better from there." 
 
 She followed his advice and found that it was good. 
 
 Edging herself into the front rank, she felt her heart lift 
 as the cheers rose and another car of wounded came down 
 the line. This held three officers, one of whom had a 
 Sister beside him. He was looking the other way, but as 
 the flowers that Madeline threw fell against his breast he 
 turned with a wan smile to catch them. 
 
 She had not meant to reveal herself just yet, but at sight 
 of him all her reserve broke down. 
 
 "Charles," she cried, "Charles!" 
 
 In the cheering her voice was lost, and he did not even 
 notice who had thrown the flowers. Besides in her long 
 navy blue V.A.D. coat and soft golf cap she looked so dif- 
 ferent from the Madeline he had known. 
 
 "Back again he's back again thank God!" she said to 
 herself as she slipped out of the crowd to the waiting taxi. 
 
 "Quick !" to the driver. "Follow that car with the Sister 
 in it follow right to the hospital." 
 
 Scenting perhaps a mystery, perhaps a romance, the taxi
 
 346 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 driver nodded cheerfully and starting with such speed that he 
 had his number taken by the outraged policeman whom he 
 had almost run over, he caught up with his quarry and fol- 
 lowed it through the sombre lights of London. Up Charing 
 Cross Road they went, past the green shades of Wyndham's 
 Theatre and so along Shaftesbury Avenue and across Ox- 
 ford Street into Russell Square and so to the hospital. 
 
 "Don't stop pass on," she called through the speaking 
 tube, and allowed herself to be let down two hundred yards 
 further down the street. 
 
 By the time she had walked back to the hospital, Charles 
 and his fellow wounded had been carried in. She was 
 glad now that he had not recognized her. Perhaps he did 
 not wish to see her. It was eighteen months now since she 
 had heard from him and eighteen months of hell in the 
 trenches might well have killed the romance which until 
 then in spite of everything still tied him to her. It might 
 be now that his love was cold, and then again there were 
 other girls in France. 
 
 She composed herself sufficiently to ask about the patient. 
 
 "The journey tired him out," said the Head Sister. "He 
 is already sleeping." 
 
 With a heart full of pity, Madeline a little later stood 
 beside the cot where Charles was lying. It was in one of 
 the public wards, as the private room would not be vacant 
 till next afternoon ; and, as Colonel Belsize had anticipated, 
 she had staged her play. Now that his cap was off, she 
 could see the curly hair was grey, and the face, oh, so thin ! 
 Yet it was the same old Charles, and her soul went out to him. 
 
 "He will be an invalid for at least a year, Dr. Trevor 
 says. One side is paralyzed just the kind of case for you. 
 Here is his record." 
 
 That night Madeline prayed for her wounded soldier 
 as she had never prayed before. Never had he seemed so 
 near to her, never so far away. So much had happened 
 since they last had met so much to them both. There 
 had never in the old days been any real understanding of 
 each other merely the physical attraction between a young 
 man and a maid. She had not fathomed the depths of
 
 DRUMS AFAR 347 
 
 his soul any more than he had fathomed hers what soul 
 at all indeed did she have in these days except the soul of 
 ambition and careless pleasure? When England's danger 
 had called him so rudely away, he still carried with him the 
 glamour of her presence, but had that glamour survived 
 the terrible stress of these days of danger? And, even if 
 it had, now that he had lost an arm and was half paralyzed, 
 would he shrink from her from dread of becoming a burden. 
 He was just the man to do that kind of thing had he not 
 sacrificed himself once already? She was young yet he 
 might say that he had no right to marry her and tie herself 
 to a cripple. 
 
 Ah, but he did not know what science could do now 
 she had herself saved far worse cases from a living death. 
 The arm, of course, could never be replaced, but the nerves, 
 and the vigour of dead muscles and the joy of life, these 
 she could resurrect it was only a matter of time and care. 
 Then he was surely hers she would have a claim on him 
 that no one else could make. This more than any charm of 
 face or hair or voice or figure would, as he once said, 
 "bridge the Atlantic and three hundred years." 
 
 So with more comfort in her heart and whispering to 
 heaven her prayer that his old love should not be entirely 
 lost, she sobbed herself to sleep. 
 
 Next afternoon Ward C was all a-flutter. This was the 
 Ward's day for a concert, and, to the sick, music is surely 
 the tenderest of healers. Some kind friend had sent a cart- 
 load of flowers, and the air was sweet with the colour and 
 fragrance of orchids and snapdragons, sweetpeas, honey- 
 suckle and roses. What the programme was, no one exactly 
 knew. These were days when famous pianists and violinists 
 and singers from Grand Opera performed without pay and 
 without advertisement happy to bring a moment or two of 
 joy to broken soldiers. 
 
 Towards the hour appointed extra pillows were brought 
 in, and heads propped up so that the patients could be 
 encouraged to look around them and be more sociable 
 easy step to feeling better. For each to-day there was a 
 special nosegay.
 
 348 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "Who sent them?" was the question asked again and 
 again by the older patients. 
 
 "No one knows but the Head Sister," was the answer. 
 
 The Head Sister was busy with the new arrivals who 
 may have thought that nosegays were part of the regular 
 hospital equipment. When at last she left them and came 
 into the firing-zone of the more sophisticated. 
 
 "It's not for me to tell," she answered. "Better ask the 
 Singing Sister." 
 
 "The Singing Sister? Is she to be here this afternoon? 
 Hip-hip-hooray!" cried a youngster who was a captain at 
 nineteen and a cripple at twenty. 
 
 "Who is the Singing Sister ?" asked Charles of his father, 
 who was sitting by his bedside. 
 
 Mr. Fitzmorris had been let into the secret and had prom- 
 ised not to tell Charles of her presence or identity. 
 
 "Wait till you have heard her," was therefore the evasive 
 answer, "then you will never forget." 
 
 Forget? There was another singer whom he could 
 never forget. He could still hear the lingering echoes of 
 the first song he had heard her sing, one night at Strasburg 
 it must be five years ago. Then again in London at her 
 concert how could he forget that lovely figure with the 
 note of jet-black hair, and the deep warm notes of her 
 voice. At Henley again Marianne s'en va-t-au-moulin 
 and those other beautiful old French-Canadian songs 
 could they ever fade from his memory? In memory her 
 voice blended with his they were singing together would 
 it had been together always: and then, on the St. Louis 
 she had sung herself into his heart. 
 
 Ah, but the clouds came, and the rumble of war and the 
 bugle call of duty, so that her softer sweeter music was 
 no longer dominant. He had answered the reveille and her 
 voice had followed him in passionate reproach. Who could 
 blame her ? She was born of another race and another world. 
 
 But still as he lay there half dreaming, he could see her 
 a graceful figure exquisitely poised, with wealth of jet- 
 black hair and eyes of jet-black lustre, and voice deep and 
 warm and full, that sang and that sang and that sang
 
 DRUMS AFAR 349 
 
 Was it a dream? If so, how vivid! His nerves must 
 still be highstrung. He must be careful not to let imagina- 
 tion run riot that way was madness. 
 
 That was her favourite song the negro lullaby of 
 Eugene Field. 
 
 "Now you go balow, my little croodlin' doo 
 
 Now you go rock-a-bye ever so far 
 
 Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye up to the star 
 
 That's wingin' and blinkin' an' singin' to you 
 
 As you go balow, my wee, croodlin' doo." 
 
 Why, these fellows in the other cots were clapping! It 
 couldn't be only a dream they were not dreaming the 
 same dreams it was real, and the singer over there 
 dressed as a V.A.D. in the blue and white striped uniform 
 with the white apron and the jet-black hair and jet-black 
 eyes Madeline ! 
 
 He tried to lift his hand, but the effort was too much and 
 he sank back helpless. 
 
 She began another song this time it was "Annie Laurie" 
 how still the room was ! That fellow over there must be 
 Scotch. Of course he was that Gordon Highlander, the 
 ranker who had won his commission and the V.C. at the 
 same time the tears were running down his cheek. God ! 
 how beautiful her voice was down it went to the depths of 
 his heart down and down and down. 
 
 "Her voice is low and sweet, 
 And she's all the world to me 
 And for bonnie Annie Laurie 
 I'd lay me doon and dee." 
 
 His father had been sitting with his face turned the other 
 way towards the singer. Charles managed at last to twitch 
 his coat so that he turned round. It was just as on that 
 night when they went to see The Blue Bird together Mr. 
 Fitzmorris was overcome with emotion. 
 
 "Isn't she wonderful ?" he said at last, sniffing as he wiped 
 his eyes. "She seems to tear the heart up by the roots."
 
 350 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "Father," said Charles, "is that the Singing Sister ? and 
 is she Madeline?" 
 
 His father nodded. 
 
 It was she who had sent the flowers to all the ward. 
 Then perhaps she did not know he was here it was to all 
 the ward. He was one of so many wounded soldiers 
 ought he to send a message? 
 
 A twinge of pain reminded him that he was crippled ! 
 
 Then some one else came forward it was a violinist 
 there had been a violinist at Madeline's great concert. 
 
 And she ? She came again forward to sing she was so 
 graceful and so beautiful. 
 
 This time it was that American song, 
 
 "The sweetest flower that blows 
 I give you as we part; 
 For you it is a rose, 
 For me it is my heart." 
 
 His nosegay was all of roses. 
 
 How often she had sung that to him in the days at Lake 
 Geneva. Would he ever live through such days again ? 
 
 A sigh went round the room when she had finished, and 
 then a storm of clapping. Then the V.C. across the room 
 from Charles called out in broad Aberdeen 
 
 "Sister, gi'e us anither Scotch." 
 
 "I've just one more song," she answered laughing, "and 
 it is Scotch Will ye no come back again?'" 
 
 "Fine, it'll dae fine." 
 
 She sang it, but just three verses, leaving out the impli- 
 cation on the English and again the tears coursed down the 
 cheek of the Gay Gordon. 
 
 To Charles the first verse had another message : 
 
 "Bonnie Charlie's noo awa' 
 Safely o'er the friendly main ; 
 Mony a hairt will brak in twa 
 Should Jae no come back again. 
 Will ye no come back again ?
 
 DRUMS AFAR 351 
 
 Better lo'ed ye canna be, 
 Will ye no come back again?" 
 
 She knew he was there she was singing this to him 
 he felt it though she did not look at him it could not be 
 for any one else but him, and his heart grew light she 
 loved him still this was her way of telling him she loved 
 him "Will ye no come back again?" 
 
 He fell into a kind of dream. Then his father's voice 
 awakened him. 
 
 "Well," Mr. Fitzmorris was saying, "was I right? Can 
 you ever forget her?" 
 
 Charles saw that the eyes were laughing now. 
 
 "How much do you know?" he said. 
 
 "I know this," his father answered, "we are going to 
 move you in a few minutes into a private ward, and you 
 are to have a nurse all to yourself." 
 
 "Who is she?" he asked, with a sudden great hope. 
 
 "Who else but the Singing Sister?" 
 
 "Thank God for that !" he exclaimed with a happy smile, 
 "Thank God!" 
 
 Just then Dr. Trevor came and examined his chart. 
 
 "Well, Captain Fitzmorris," he said cheerfully, "we're 
 going to put you on your feet again. It'll take some time, 
 but with careful treatment and good nursing yes" (this 
 to the Head Sister) "he may as well be moved at once, the 
 room is ready. Mr. Fitzmorris, you may see the patient 
 again to-morrow afternoon." 
 
 Madeline was there waiting, but gave no sign of recog- 
 nition as he was carried in. 
 
 After a sharp glance round the room to see that every- 
 thing was in order, Dr. Trevor gave her brief instructions 
 about the case and left to resume his rounds. 
 
 At last they were alone. 
 
 "Madeline!" said Charles all huskily, holding out the 
 hand that remained. 
 
 At the sound of his voice her reserve broke down. She 
 fell on her knees beside him, her salt tears raining, and 
 kissed the hand again and again.
 
 352 DRUMS AFAR 
 
 "Charles," she sobbed, "can you forgive me?" 
 
 "Forgive?" he said. "What is there to forgive? It is 
 you that must forgive." 
 
 "No I tried to keep you from your duty." 
 
 "That's all ancient history now," he said. "And even 
 if there was a mistake, aren't you in uniform now ? Haven't 
 you made good?" 
 
 "Oh," she cried, her face suddenly clearing, "do you 
 look at it like that ? Do you really mean it ?" 
 
 "What else can it mean ?" he said. "I only wish I weren't 
 such a crock. Just one arm now, old girl only half my 
 nerves the rest are 'somewhere in France.' " 
 
 "Poor boy," she said tenderly. Then more cheerfully, 
 "It's up to me to bring you back the other half. I think 
 there must be some fate in this. Here have I been training 
 all this year for just such a case as yours " 
 
 "Don't be so professional," interrupted Charles with a 
 smile. "Here have I been training all these years for just 
 such a heart as yours that is to say, if you will still have 
 what is left of me." 
 
 "Will I !" she leaned over and kissed his eyes ever so 
 softly for answer. 
 
 Ten minutes, or it may have been an hour later, Dr. 
 Trevor came in unnoticed and found her seated on the 
 bedside, Charles's hand in hers. 
 
 "Miss Raymond!" he exclaimed severely. "That is not 
 the correct way to feel a pulse." 
 
 Madeline jumped up, blushing furiously and hung her 
 head. 
 
 "All right, doctor," sang out Charles, and the doctor's 
 professional ear was quick to catch the stronger note. 
 "You don't understand. You are English. This is the 
 American way over there they call it 'holding hands.' We 
 are old friends, don't you know I and the Singing Sister 
 for 
 
 " 'Her voice is low and sweet 
 And she's all the world to me.' " 
 
 THE END
 
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