Instantly he began to struggle' Where is he, Mary? Where is he?'
'Into your nightshirt first.
'Is he here? Has he come home?'
'No, Dirk. He isn't here yet. He's in Pietermaritzburg. But you're
going to see him soon. Very soon. Granma has gone now to make
reservations on the train. You're going to see him tomorrow.
His hot, wet body began to tremble in her arms, quivering with
excitement.
'is it ... ? is it ... 'well, you'll see for yourself 'In some
respects, Mrs. Courtney, it was possibly all to the good that we were
unable to contact you before. ' The Surgeon-Major tamped tobacco into
his pipe, and began methodically searching all his pockets.
'Your matches are on the desk. ' Ada came to his assistance.
'Oh! Thank you. ' He got the pipe drawing, and continued,
'You see, your son was attached to an irregular unit-there was no
record of next-of-kin, and when he came to us from Colenso six weeks
ago he was, shall we say, in no condition to inform us of your address.
' 'Can we see Pa now?' Dirk could no longer contain himself, for the
past five minutes he had wriggled and fidgeted on the couch beside
Ada.
'You'll see your father in a few minutes, young man.' And the surgeon
turned back to Ada. 'As it so happens, Mrs. Courtney, you have been
spared a great deal of anxiety. At first there were grave doubts that
we would be able to save your son's life, let alone his right leg. Four
weeks it hung in the balance, so to speak. But now'-and he beamed at
Ada with justifiable pride' He well?' Quickly, anxiously she asked.
'What a formidable constitution your son has, all muscle and
determination.' He nodded, still stiff ling 'Yes, he's well on the
road to recovery. There may be a slight limp in the right leg-but when
you weigh that against what might have been . he spread his hands
eloquently. 'Now the sister will take you through to him.'
'When can he come home?' Ada asked from the doorway.
Soon-another month, perhaps.
A deep veranda, cool with shade and the breeze that came in across the
hospital lawns. A hundred high metal beds along the wall, a hundred
men in grey flannel nightshirts propped against white pillows.
Some of them slept, a few were reading, others talked quietly or played
chess and cards on boards set between the beds. But one lay withdrawn,
staring at, but not seeing, the pair of fiscal shrikes which squabbled
raucously over a frog on the lawn.
The beard was gone, removed while he was too weak to protest on the
orders of the ward sister who considered it unhygienic, and the result
was a definite improvement that even Sean secretly admitted.
Shielded for so long, the skin on the lower half of his face was smooth
and white like that of a boy; fifteen years had been shaved away with
that coarse black matt. Now emphasis was placed on the heavy brows
which, in turn, directed attention to his eyes, dark blue, like cloud
shadow on mountain lakes. Darker blue at this moment as he considered
the contents of the letter he held in his right hand.
The letter was three weeks old, and already the cheap paper was
