The Two Saplings by Mazo de la Roche

Author:Mazo de la Roche
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn Press
Published: 2015-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER VII

SCHOOLS in America close at the middle of June but in England the holidays do not begin till the end of July. July seemed very long. The sun beat down hotly on the streets of Malvern, though to Palmer, inured to Boston’s climate, it threw only a mild warmth. Still it was sometimes a relief when the hills rose in their grandeur and drew their curtain across its brightness.

July had much thunder weather. The air was close and full of rumours of war. Sometimes Mr. Cutler forgot the cramming of his pupils and gave them his opinion on international affairs. Every late afternoon the boys went into the streets which had become so familiar. Every day they had ice-cream, for both had plenty of pocket-money. They bought fresh fruit and ate it in the public gardens, or in the graveyard in the shadow of the Abbey. Sometimes, in the gardens, Palmer would hear American voices and strain his ears to catch what they were saying. Once he heard an old lady say she was from Boston and, before he could stop himself, he broke out with:

“H’ya, Ma’am, I’m from Boston too!”

They had a long conversation. She was staying on for the Drama Festival. She knew members of his family in Massachusetts. She invited the boys to the Abbey Hotel to tea with her.

The time had come for leaving. Palmer strained toward it but Corbold looked miserable. Good spirits and appetite had left him. He kept on saying how he wished he might spend the holidays with Palmer. He made Palmer feel old and responsible.

At last Dick Rendel came with his car to fetch Palmer. He looked sharply at him as they shook hands.

“You look a bit pale,” he said. “Have you been well?”

“Yes, I’m O.K. Do you remember David Corbold? I guess we’ll have to say good-bye now, David.”

Mr. Cutler had already told of Palmer’s fair progress so there was no need for delay. Dick Rendel found the atmosphere of the house depressing. He wanted to get away. Before leaving he turned to Corbold and said:

“I went to Sandhurst with a chap named Corbold. I was with him afterward in Mesopotamia. I wonder if he’d be related to you.”

“My father’s name is Roger,” said Corbold. “And he was in Mesopotamia.”

“By George, it’s the same man! He’s stationed in India now, isn’t he? Where are you spending your holidays?”

“He’s spending them here,” said Palmer quickly. “He’s nowhere else to go.”

Dick Rendel looked down into their two faces.

“Like to spend a fortnight with us in Cornwall?” he asked.

So lightly was despair changed to joy for Corbold.

His things took up little room. The boys squeezed themselves into the two-seater beside Dick Rendel. He asked them many questions about their work and how they had enjoyed themselves. At first they were cautious, then they gave their unvarnished opinion of Mrs. Cutler’s catering, and, with some embellishment, told of the affair of Ames.

“But why did he come into your room at night and lick you?” asked Dick.

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