which he threw open wide to admit
Marigold and myself and followed us with Mrs. Boyce into the
drawing-room, talking all the while. I must confess that I was just a
little puzzled by his exuberant welcome. And, to judge by the blank
expression that flitted momentarily over her face, so was his mother.
If he were so delighted by my visit, why had he not crossed the lawn at
once as soon as he saw the car? Why had he sent his mother on ahead? I
was haunted by an exchange of words overheard in imagination:

"Confound the fellow! What has he come here for?"

"Mary will say 'not at home.'"

"But he has spotted us. Do go and get rid of him."

"Such an old friend, dear."

"We haven't time for old fossils. Tell him to go and bury himself."

And (in my sensitive fancy) she had delivered the import of the
message. I had gathered that my visit was ill-timed. I was preparing to
cut it short, when Leonard himself came up and whisked me against my
will to the tea-table. If my hypothesis were correct he had evidently
changed his mind as to the desirability of getting rid, in so summary a
fashion, of what he may have considered to be an impertinent and
malicious little factor in Wellingsford gossip.

At any rate, if he was playing a part, he played it very well. It was
not in the power of man to be more cordial and gracious. He gave me a
vivid account of the campaign. He had been through everything, the
retreat from Mons, the Battle of the Aisne, the great rush north, and
the Battle of Neuve Chapelle on the 17th of March. I listened,
fascinated, to his tale, which he told with a true soldier's impersonal
modesty.

"I was glad," said I, after a while, "to see you twice mentioned in
dispatches."

Mrs. Boyce turned on me triumphantly. "He is going to get his D. S. O."

"By Jove!" said I.

Leonard laughed, threw one gaitered leg over the other and held up his
hands at her.

"Oh, you feminine person!" He smiled at me. "I told my dear old mother
as a dead and solemn secret."

"But it will be gazetted in a few days, dear."

"One can never be absolutely sure of these things until they're in
black and white. A pretty ass I'd look if there was a hitch--say
through some fool of a copying clerk--and I didn't get it after all.
It's only dear, silly understanding things like mothers that would
understand. Other people wouldn't. Don't you think I'm right, Meredyth?"

Of course he was. I have known, in my time, of many disappointmen