Mrs. Tim of the Regiment Read Free Page B

beseech me to sit for him having seen me dashing about Biddington on my bicycle and taken an unaccountable fancy to the shape of my face. Or perhaps he wishes to paint Betty, whose colouring has been admired by various artistic friends.
    Ask Annie rather shortly why she has not shown Mr. John into the drawing room. She replies that he ‘does not look that kind of gentleman’, but adds that she will if I like. (Query – Is this Annie’s reaction to the artistic note in sartorial fashion?)
    Rush wildly to the front door, where I spend half an hour persuading Mr. John that I do not want a vacuum cleaner, and that I do not want a demonstration of a vacuum cleaner on my own stair carpet, even although – as he points out – I should thereby get them ‘beautifully cleaned for nothing’.
    I return to my letters.
    Annie comes in to say will I telephone to the fishmonger, as they have sent bloaters instead of whiting for tonight’s dinner, and Katie supposes it is a mistake? And will I do it now, as it is the half day?
    I do it now.
    Go upstairs to see what the children are doing, as they are ominously quiet. Find that they have taken my new bedcovers to make a tent, and that Bryan is wearing Tim’s one and only silk hat, which he found in a box on the top of the wardrobe. He has also found Tim’s sword and medals. Betty has contented herself with my Spanish shawl, and looks extraordinarily well in it. Remove Tim’s belongings as tactfully as possible, but leave bedcovers, as I have not the heart to ruin tent, which is really quite ingenious. Offer to look for some other garments for dressing up, by which time it is one o’clock.
    After lunch the children decide that they want to paint. Provide water and find paintboxes, hoping that I may get a few letters written during the afternoon.
    Am disturbed by frightful screams from the nursery. Rush upstairs and find Betty in tears, and Bryan gazing out of the window, with his hands in his pockets. Demand an instant explanation of the uproar, but find it impossible to get to the root of the trouble, or to discover the true culprit, Betty saying that Bryan hit her, and Bryan saying, ‘Yes, because she pinched my arm,’ and Betty replying hotly, ‘That was only because you upset my painting water,’ and Bryan retorting, ‘Well, you spluttered green water all over my book.’
    Suggest hastily that they should put on their waterproofs and go for a walk.
    Bryan says, ‘Yes, if Bollings can come and may we go down to the lake and feed the swans?’
    Agree to let Bollings go with them, thereby dooming my silver to languish as pewter for a whole week, this being his afternoon for cleaning the silver.
    Seventh January
    Leave the children playing happily with the admirable Bollings, and set forth to visit some of the married families. Inspect the new baby at the Frasers’, and discourse learnedly with Mrs. F. re the infant’s diet (Nature not having provided sustenance with her usual foresight). Meet Major McGillveray, the M.O., on the stairs, and am greeted with the remark that he supposes there is no need for him to visit the latest recruit, as nobody listens to a word he says if they can get advice from me . Laugh brightly and reply that I have recommended orange juice, and I hope he approves. ‘Small matter whether I approve or not,’ he grumbles.
    Visit several other families, and am regaled with tea and gossip about the regiment and whispered comments on the dark doings of the bad boys belonging to other families. It is a queer little world that inhabits these quarters – speaking every known dialect of the British Isles – but they get on together marvellously well considering their propinquity, and there is a warm welcome at every door.
    â€˜I put the kettle on when I heard you on the stair,’ says Mrs. Craven, the Scottish wife of a Lancashire corporal, and the proud mother of five