Mrs. Tim of the Regiment by D. E. Stevenson Read Free Book Online

sometimes.
    Eighteenth January
    Letter from Bryan asking why we ‘went off without saying goodbye’ and informing us that he has got his ‘remove’ and is in a different ‘dorm’. The rest of the letter is taken up with calculations as to how many days it is until the Easter holidays and ends with the pious hope that the writer may develop ringworm or some such complaint ‘like Brunton did last term’, in which case he will be sent home forthwith. Feel that this would be an undesirable occurrence especially as we have just sent him a cheque for a large sum to defray the term’s expenses.
    I also receive a letter from Lady Morley of Charters Towers, inviting me to accompany Tim on the 29th January and stay two nights at Charters Towers for the point-to-point races. Great argument between Tim and self regarding the invitation as I feel I have no clothes worthy of the occasion, and Tim says that my last year’s tweeds and a fur coat is all that I shall require. Am bitterly aware that Tim is one of those men who do not understand clothes or women, but reflect afterwards that perhaps this is just as well in some ways. Men who understand women being sometimes too understanding of women other than their wives.
    Major Morley comes in to tea and says that of course I must go, and that he will take us in his car.
    Nineteenth January
    Tim reminds me unnecessarily at breakfast that the Bensons and the McDougalls are coming to dinner tonight and asks me to tell Annie not to breathe heavily down the back of his neck when she is waiting at table. Spend half an hour wondering how I can possibly put this in a tactful manner and realise that I can’t. Decide to say nothing about it and hope for the best.
    Am still in the later stages of my toilet when Mrs. Benson arrives and is shown straight into my bedroom. This is not Annie’s fault – she is merely carrying out instructions – Mrs. Benson has upset plans by arriving ten minutes early. I am aware that Tim is not ready either, having fished a stud up his back for him about three minutes ago.
    â€˜And how do you think you will like Westburgh?’ says Mrs. Benson as she dabs her nose with blue powder in front of my glass. ‘I hear it does not rain all the time, and the smoke is really quite healthy.’
    Tim enters in his shirt sleeves to ask me to tie his tie for him, but backs out hastily at the sight of Mrs. Benson, while I make signs to him behind her back to hurry downstairs to the colonel. Can see he does not know in the least what I mean.
    The McDougalls arrive about twenty minutes late, by which time we have all come to the end of our conversation, and the colonel is pacing up and down the room like a wild beast. They are full of the most abject apologies, their car wouldn’t start and they have only just now been able to get a taxi from the garage. Smile brightly and say it does not matter at all, though I am nearly frantic at the thought of the mushroom soufflé, which I know will be like leather.
    The colonel is by now in a towering rage, and dabs at his burnt fish in positive disgust. Fortunately the beef olives are quite eatable, and the pudding is a trifle, so I breathe a sigh of relief.
    Grace McDougall gradually wins the colonel to a better mood by flirting with him outrageously; but this annoys both Mrs. Benson and Captain McDougall, so things are not much improved. The soufflé does not turn up at all, its place on the menu is taken by a few cheese straws which I know have been mouldering at the back of the kitchen cupboard for about three weeks, but which look nice, having been dusted thoroughly and reheated.
    Colonel now laughing uproariously at something said by Grace which neither of them will divulge.
    Grace is looking really beautiful tonight in red chiffon which clashes diabolically with my old dyed pink satin. Her hair is black with a blue sheen and has obviously just been trimmed and waved, her