him also that
it might be she would never marry at all; a life of her own and
happiness seemed impossible now. She might go into a sisterhood. Work
for others was what she must have. Then, unexpectedly, my father was at
Cairo to meet her, and Kitchener went to him and told him. From that on
the two men were close friends. My people were not married till five
years later, and when I came to be baptized General Kitchener was
godfather. All my young days I was used to seeing him about the house at
intervals, as if he belonged to us. I remember his eyes following my
mother. Tall and slight she was, with a haunted look, from what she'd
seen; she moved softly, spoke softly. It was no secret from the two, my
father and mother, that he loved her always. Yet, so loyal, so crystal
he was that my father had never one moment of jealousy. On the contrary
they were like brothers. Then they died--my father and mother. The two
almost together. I came into Kitchener's hands, Lord Kitchener by then.
When he met me in London, a long lad of seventeen, he held my fingers a
second and looked hard at me.

"'You're very like her, Donald,' he said. And held on. And said it
again. 'Your mother's double. I'd know you for her boy if I caught one
look of your eyes, anywhere,' he said. 'Her boy.'--Well--what? Do I want
more tea? Of course, I do."

For the smiling plump maid had long ago brought the steaming stuff, the
bread and butter and jam and plum cake, I had officiated and General
Cochrane had been absorbing his tea as an Englishman does,
automatically, while he talked.

About us the tables were filling up, all over the rose-garden. The
Americans were there with the beautiful long-legged giant deer-hound
puppy, Jock, and were having trouble with his table manners. People came
in by twos and threes and more, from the river, with the glow of
exercise on their faces; an elderly country parson sat near,
black-coated, white-collared, with his elderly daughter and their dog, a
well-behaved Scottie this one, big-headed, with an age-old, wise, black
face. And a group of three pretty girls with their pretty pink-cheeked
mother and a young man or so were having a gay time with soft-voiced
laughter and jokes, not far away. The breeze lifted the long purple and
rose-colored motor veils of mother and daughters. The whole place was
full of bright colors and low-toned cheerful talk, yet so English was
the atmosphere, that it was as if the General and I wer