No More Learning

This is a beauty. "

The appreciation brought Doggie at once to his side. He took Oliver
delightedly around the pictures, expounding their merits and their
little histories. Doggie was just beginning to like the big fellow,
when, stopping before the collection of china dogs, the latter spoiled
everything.

"My dear Doggie," he said, "is that your family? "

"It's the finest collection of the kind in the world," replied Doggie
stiffly, "and is worth several thousand pounds. "

Oliver heaved himself into a chair--that was Doggie's impression of his
method of sitting down.

"Forgive me, Doggie," he said, "but you're so funny. Pictures and music
I can understand. But what on earth is the point of these little dogs? "

Doggie was hurt. "It would be useless to try to explain," he said, with
dignity. "And my name is Marmaduke. "

Oliver took off his hat and sent it skimming to the couch.

"Look here, old chap," he said, "I seem to have put my foot in it. I
didn't mean to, really. I'll call you Marmaduke, if you like, instead of
Doggie--though it's a beast of a name. I'm a rough sort of chap. I've
had ten years' pretty tough training. I've slept on boards; I've slept
in the open without a cent to hire a board. I've gone cold and I've gone
hungry, and men have knocked me about, and I've lost most of my
politeness. In the wilds if a man once gets the name, say, of Duck-Eyed
Joe, it sticks to him, and he accepts it, and answers to it, and signs
it. "

"But I'm not in the wilds," objected Marmaduke, "and haven't the
slightest intention of ever leading the unnatural and frightful life you
describe. So what you say doesn't apply to me. "

Oliver, laughing, clapped him on the shoulder.

"You don't give a fellow a chance," he said. "Look here, tell me, as man
to man, what are you going to do with your life? Here you are, young,
strong, educated, intelligent--"

"I'm not strong," said Doggie.

"A month's exercise would make you as strong as a mule," returned
Oliver. "Here you are--what are you going to do with yourself? "

"I don't admit that you have any right to question me," said Doggie.

"Peggy and I had a talk," declared Oliver. "I said I'd take you out with
me to the Islands and give you a taste for fresh air and salt water and
exercise. I'll teach you how to sail a schooner and how to go about
barefoot and swab decks. "

Doggie smiled pityingly, but said politely, "Your offer is kind, Oliver,
but I don't think that sort of life would suit me. "

Being a man of intelligence, he realized that Oliver's offer arose from
a genuine desire to do him service. But if a friendly bull out of the
fulness of its affection invited you to accompany it to the meadow and
eat grass, what could you do but courteously decline the invitation?

"I'm really most obliged to you, Oliver," said Doggie, finally. "But our
ideas are entirely different. You're primitive, you know. You seem to
find your happiness in defying the elements, whereas I find mine in
adopting the resources of civilization to defeat them. "

"Which means," said Oliver, rudely, "that you're afraid to roughen your
hands and spoil your complexion. "

"If you like to put it that way. "

"You're an [v]effeminate little creature! " cried Oliver, losing his
temper. "And I'm through with you. Go sit up and beg for biscuits. "

"Stop! " shouted Doggie, white with sudden anger, which shook him from
head to foot. He marched to the door, his green silk dressing-gown
flapping about him, and threw it wide open.

"This is my house," he said. "I'm sorry to have to ask you to get out of
it. "

And when the door was shut on Oliver, he threw himself, shaken, on the
couch, hating Oliver and all his works more than ever. Go about barefoot
and swab decks! It was madness. Besides being dangerous to health, it
would be excruciating discomfort. And to be insulted for not grasping at
such martyrdom! It was intolerable; and Doggie remained justly indignant
the whole day long.


II

Then the war came. Doggie Trevor was both patriotic and polite. Having a
fragment of the British army in his house, he did his best to make it
comfortable. By January he had no doubt that the empire was in peril,
that it was every man's duty to do his bit. He welcomed the newcomers
with open arms, having unconsciously abandoned his attitude of
superiority over mere brawn. It was every patriotic Englishman's duty
to encourage brawn. He threw himself heart and soul into the
entertainment of officers and men. They thought Doggie a capital fellow.

"My dear chap," one would protest, "you're spoiling us. I don't say we
don't like it and aren't grateful. We are. But we're supposed to rough
it--to lead the simple life. You're treating us too well. "

"Impossible! " Doggie would reply. "Don't I know what we owe you fellows?
In what other way can a helpless, delicate being like myself show his
gratitude and in some sort of way serve his country? "

When the sympathetic guest would ask what was the nature of his malady,
Doggie would tap his chest vaguely and reply:

"Constitutional. I've never been able to do things like other fellows.
The least thing bowls me out. "

"Hard lines--especially just now! " the soldier would murmur.

"Yes, isn't it? " Doggie would answer.

Doggie never questioned his physical incapacity. His mother had brought
him up to look on himself as a singularly frail creature, and the idea
was as real to him as the war. He went about pitying himself and seeking
pity.

The months passed. The soldiers moved away from Durdlebury, and Doggie
was left alone in his house. He felt solitary and restless. News came
from Oliver that he had accepted an infantry commission and was in
France. "A month of this sort of thing," he wrote, "would make our dear
old Doggie sit up. " Doggie sighed. If only he had been blessed with
Oliver's constitution!

One morning Briggins, his chauffeur, announced that he could stick it
out no longer and was going to enlist. Then Doggie remembered a talk he
had had with one of the young officers, who had expressed astonishment
at his not being able to drive a car.

"I shouldn't have the nerve," he had replied. "My nerves are all
wrong--and I shouldn't have the strength to change tires and things. "

But now Doggie was confronted by the necessity of driving his own car,
for chauffeurs were no longer to be had. To his amazement, he found that
he did not die of nervous collapse when a dog crossed the road in front
of the automobile, and that the fitting of detachable wheels did not
require the strength of a Hercules. The first time he took Peggy out
driving, he swelled with pride.

"I'm so glad you can do something! " she said, after a silence.

Although the girl was as kind as ever, Doggie had noticed of late a
curious reserve in her manner. Conversation did not flow easily. She had
fits of abstraction, from which, when rallied, she roused herself with
an effort. Finally, one day, Peggy asked him blankly why he did not
enlist.

Doggie was horrified. "I'm not fit," he said, "I've no constitution. I'm
an impossibility. "

"You thought you had nerves until you learned to drive the car," she
answered. "Then you discovered that you hadn't. You fancy you've a weak
heart. Perhaps if you walked thirty miles a day, you would discover that
you hadn't that, either. And so with the rest of it. "

He swung round toward her. "Do you think I'm shamming so as to get out
of serving in the army? " he demanded.

"Not consciously. Unconsciously, I think you are. What does your doctor
say? "

Doggie was taken aback. He had no doctor, having no need for one. He
made confession of the surprising fact. Peggy smiled.

"That proves it," she said. "I don't believe you have anything wrong
with you. This is plain talking. It's horrid, I know, but it's best to
get through with it once and for all. "

Some men would have taken deep offense, but Doggie, conscientious if
ineffective, was gnawed for the first time by a suspicion that Peggy
might possibly be right. He desired to act honorably.

"I'll do," he said, "whatever you think proper. "

"Good! " said Peggy. "Get Doctor Murdoch to overhaul you thoroughly with
a view to the army. If he passes you, take a commission. "

She put out her hand. Doggie took it firmly.

"Very well," he said. "I agree. "

"You're flabby," announced Doctor Murdoch, the next morning, to an
anxious Doggie, after some minutes of thumping and listening, "but
that's merely a matter of unused muscles. Physical training will set it
right in no time. Otherwise, my dear Trevor, you're in splendid health.
There's not a flaw in your whole constitution. "

Doggie crept out of bed, put on a violet dressing-gown, and wandered to
his breakfast like a man in a nightmare. But he could not eat. He
swallowed a cup of coffee and took refuge in his own room. He was
frightened--horribly frightened, caught in a net from which there was no
escape. He had given his word to join the army if he should be passed by
Murdoch. He had been more than passed! Now he would have to join; he
would have to fight. He would have to live in a muddy trench, sleep in
mud, eat in mud, plow through mud. Doggie was shaken to his soul, but he
had given his word and he had no thought of going back on it.

The fateful little letter bestowing a commission on Doggie arrived two
weeks later; he was a second lieutenant in a battalion of the new army.
A few days afterward he set off for the training-camp.

He wrote to Peggy regularly. The work was very hard, he said, and the
hours were long. Sometimes he confessed himself too tired to write more
than a few lines. It was a very strange life--one he never dreamed could
have existed. There was the riding-school. Why hadn't he learned to ride
as a boy? Peggy was filled with admiration for his courage. She realized
that he was suffering acutely in his new and rough environment, but he
made no complaint.

Then there came a time when Doggie's letters grew rarer and shorter. At
last they ceased altogether. One evening an unstamped envelope addressed
to Peggy was put in the letter-box. The envelope contained a copy of the
_Gazette_, and a sentence was underlined and adorned with exclamation
marks:

"Royal Fusileers. Second Lieutenant J. M. Trevor resigned his
commission. "

* * * * *

It had been a terrible blow to Doggie. The colonel had dealt as gently
as he could in the final interview with him. He put his hand in a
fatherly way on Doggie's shoulder and bade him not take the thing too
much to heart. He--Doggie--had done his best, but the simple fact was
that he was not cut out for an officer. These were merciless times, and
in matters of life and death there could be no weak links in the chain.
In Doggie's case there was no personal discredit. He had always
conducted himself like a gentleman, but he lacked the qualities
necessary for the command of men. He must send in his resignation.

Doggie, after leaving the camp, took a room in a hotel and sat there
most of the day, the mere pulp of a man. His one desire now was to
escape from the eyes of his fellow-men. He felt that he bore the marks
of his disgrace, obvious at a glance. He had been turned out of the army
as a hopeless incompetent; he was worse than a slacker, for the slacker
might have latent qualities he was without.

Presently the sight of his late brother-officers added the gnaw of envy
to his heart-ache. On the third day of his exile he moved into lodgings
in Woburn Place. Here at least he could be quiet, untroubled by
heart-rending sights and sounds. He spent most of his time in dull
reading and dispirited walking.

His failure preyed on his mind. He walked for miles every day, though
without enjoyment. He wandered one evening in the dusk to Waterloo
Bridge and gazed out over the parapet. The river stretched below, dark
and peaceful. As he looked down on the rippling water, he presently
became aware of a presence by his side. Turning his head, he found a
soldier, an ordinary private, also leaning over the parapet.

"I thought I wasn't mistaken in Mr. Marmaduke Trevor," said the soldier.

Doggie started away, on the point of flight, dreading the possible
insolence of one of the men of his late regiment. But the voice of the
speaker rang in his ears with a strange familiarity, and the great
fleshy nose, the high cheekbones, and the little gray eyes in the
weather-beaten face suggested vaguely some one of the long ago. His
dawning recognition amused the soldier.

"Yes, laddie, it's your old Phineas. Phineas McPhail, M. A. --now private
P. McPhail.
"

It was no other than Doggie's tutor of his childhood days.

"Very glad to see you," Doggie murmured.

Phineas, gaunt and bony, took his arm. Doggie's instinctive craving for
companionship made Phineas suddenly welcome.

"Let us have a talk," he said. "Come to my rooms. There will be some
dinner. "

"Will I come? Will I have dinner? Laddie, I will. "

In the Strand they hailed a taxi-cab and drove to Doggie's place.

"You mention your rooms," said Phineas. "Are you residing permanently in
London? "

"Yes," said Doggie, sadly. "I never expect to leave it. "

A few minutes later they reached Woburn Place. Doggie showed Phineas
into the sitting-room. The table was set for Doggie's dinner. Phineas
looked around him in surprise. The tasteless furniture, the dreadful
pictures on the walls, the coarse glass and the well-used plate on the
table, the crumpled napkin in a ring--all came as a shock to Phineas,
who had expected to find Marmaduke's rooms a reproduction of the
fastidious prettiness of the peacock and ivory room in Durdlebury.

"Laddie," he said, gravely, "you must excuse me if I take a liberty, but
I cannot fit you into this environment. It cannot be that you have come
down in the world? "

"To bed-rock," replied Doggie.

"Man, I'm sorry," said Phineas. "I know what coming down feels like. If
I had money--"

Doggie broke in with a laugh. "Pray don't distress yourself, Phineas.
It's not a question of money at all. The last thing in the world I've
had to think of has been money. "

"What is the trouble? " Phineas demanded.

"That's a long story," answered Doggie. "In the meantime I had better
give some orders about dinner. "

The dinner came in presently, not particularly well served. They sat
down to it.

"By the way," remarked Doggie, "you haven't told me why you became a
soldier. "

"Chance," replied Phineas. "I have been going down in the world for some
time, and no one seemed to want me except my country. She clamored for
me at every corner. A recruiting sergeant in Trafalgar Square at last
persuaded me to take the leap. That's how I became Private Phineas
McPhail of the Tenth Wessex Rangers, at the compensation of one
shilling and two pence per day. "

"Do you like it? " asked Doggie.

Phineas rubbed the side of his nose thoughtfully.

"In itself it is a vile life," he made answer. "The hours are absurd,
the work is distasteful, and the mode of living repulsive. But it
contents me. The secret of happiness lies in adapting one's self to
conditions. I adapt myself wherever I happen to be. And now, may I,
without impertinent curiosity, again ask what you meant when you said
you had come down to bed-rock? "

All of Doggie's rage and shame flared up at the question.

"I've been thrown out of the army! " he cried. "I'm here in
hiding--hiding from my family and the decent folk I'm ashamed to meet! "

"Tell me all about it, laddie," urged Phineas, gently.

Then Doggie broke down, and with a gush of unminded tears found
expression for his stony despair. His story took a long time in the
telling, and Phineas interjected a sympathetic "Ay, ay," from time to
time.

"And now," cried Doggie, his young face distorted and reddened, his
sleek hair ruffled, and his hands appealingly outstretched, "what am I
going to do? "

"You've got to go back home," said Phineas. "You've got to whip up all
the moral courage in you and go back to Durdlebury. "

"I won't," said Doggie, "I can't. I'd sooner die than go back there
disgraced. I'd sooner enlist as a private soldier. "

"Enlist? " repeated Phineas, and he drew himself up straight and gaunt.
"Well, why not? "

"Enlist? " echoed Doggie, in a dull tone. "As a Tommy? "

"As a Tommy," replied Phineas.

"Enlist! " murmured Doggie. He thought of the alternatives--flight, which
was craven; home, which he could not bear. Doggie rose from his chair
with a new light in his eyes. He had come to the supreme moment of his
life; he had made his great resolution. Yes, he would enlist as a
private soldier in the British army.


III

A year later Doggie Trevor returned to Durdlebury. He had been laid up
in hospital with a wounded leg, the result of fighting the German
snipers in front of the first line trenches, and he was now on his way
back to France. Durdlebury had not changed in the interval; it was
Marmaduke Trevor that had changed. He measured about ten inches more
around the chest than the year before, and his hands were red and
calloused from hard work. He was as straight as an Indian now, and in
his rough khaki uniform of a British private he looked every bit a
man--yes, and more than that, a veteran soldier. For Doggie had passed
through battle after battle, gas attacks, mine explosions, and months of
dreary duty in water-filled trenches, where only brave and tough men
could endure. He had been tried in the furnace and he had come out pure
gold.

Doggie entered the familiar Deanery, and was met by Peggy with a glad
smile of welcome. His uncle, the Dean, appeared in the hall, florid,
whitehaired, benevolent, and extended both hands to the homecoming
warrior.

"My dear boy," he said, "how glad I am to see you! Welcome back! And
how's the wound? "

Opening the drawing-room door, he pushed Doggie inside. A tall, lean
figure in uniform, which had remained in the background by the
fireplace, advanced with outstretched hand.

"Hello, old chap! "

Doggie took the hand in an honest grip.

"Hello, Oliver! "

"How goes it? " asked Oliver.

"Splendid," said Doggie. "Are you all right? "

"Tip-top," answered Oliver. He clapped his cousin on the shoulder. "My
hat! you do look fit. "

He turned to the Dean. "Uncle Edward, isn't he a hundred times the man
he was? "

In a little while tea came. It appeared to Doggie, handing round the
three-tiered cake-stand, that he had returned to some forgotten
existence. The delicate china cup in his hand seemed too frail for the
material usages of life, and he feared lest he break it, for Doggie was
accustomed to the rough dishes of the private.

The talk lay chiefly between Oliver and himself and ran on the war. Both
men had been at Ypres and at Arras, where the British and German
trenches lay only five yards apart.

"I ought to be over there now," said Oliver, "but I just escaped
shell-shock and I was sent home for two weeks. "

"My crowd is at the Somme," said Doggie.

"You're well out of it, old chap," laughed Oliver.

For the first time in his life Doggie began really to like Oliver.
Oliver stood in his eyes in a new light, that of the typical officer,
trusted and beloved by his men, and Doggie's heart went out to him.

After some further talk, the men separated to dress for dinner.

"You've got the green room, Marmaduke," said Peggy. "The one with the
Chippendale furniture you used to covet so much. "

"I haven't got much to change into," laughed Doggie, looking down at his
uniform.

"You'll find Peddle up there waiting for you. "

When Doggie entered the green room, he found Peddle, who welcomed him
with tears of joy and a display of all the luxuries of the toilet and
adornment which Doggie had left behind at home. There were pots of
[v]pomade and face cream, and nail polish; bottles of hair-wash and
tooth-wash; half a dozen gleaming razors; the array of brushes and combs
and [v]manicure set in [v]tortoise-shell with his crest in silver;
bottles of scent; the purple silk dressing-gown; a soft-fronted shirt
fitted with ruby and diamond sleeve-links; the dinner jacket and suit
laid out on the glass-topped table, with tie and handkerchief; the silk
socks, the glossy pumps.

"My, Peddle! " cried Doggie, scratching his closely-cropped head. "What's
all this? "

Peddle, gray, bent, uncomprehending, regarded him blankly.

"All what, sir? "

"I only want to wash my hands," said Doggie.

"But aren't you going to dress for dinner, sir? "

"A private soldier's not allowed to wear [v]mufti," returned Doggie.

"Who's to find out? "

"There's Mr. Oliver; he's a major. "

"Ah, Mr. Marmaduke, he wouldn't mind. Miss Peggy gave me my orders, sir,
and I think you can leave things to her. "

"All right, Peddle," laughed Doggie. "If it's Miss Peggy's decree, I'll
change my clothes. I have all I want. "

"Are you sure you can manage, sir? " Peddle asked anxiously, for the time
was when Doggie could not stick his legs into his trousers unless Peddle
helped him.

"Quite," said Doggie.

"It seems rather roughing it, here at the Deanery, Mr. Marmaduke, after
what you've been accustomed to at the Hall," said Peddle.

"That's so," replied Doggie. "And it's martyrdom compared to what it is
in the trenches. There we always have a major-general to lace our boots
and a field-marshall to hand us coffee. "

Peddle looked blank, being utterly unable to comprehend the nature of a
joke.

A little later, when Doggie went downstairs to dinner, he found Peggy
alone in the drawing-room.

"Now you look more like a Christian gentleman," she said. "Confess: it's
much more comfortable than your wretched private's uniform. "

"I'm not quite so sure," he replied, somewhat ruefully, indicating his
dinner jacket, which was tightly constricted beneath the arms. "Already
I've had to slit my waistcoat down the back. Poor old Peddle will have a
fit when he sees it. I've grown a bit since these elegant rags were made
for me. "

Oliver came in--in khaki. Doggie jumped up and pointed to him.

"Look here, Peggy," he said; "I'll be sent to the guard-room. "

Oliver laughed. "I did change my uniform," he said. "I don't know where
my dinner clothes are. "

"That's the best thing about being a major," spoke up Doggie. "They have
heaps of suits. Poor Tommy has but one suit to his name. "

Then the Dean and his wife entered, and they went in to dinner. It was
for Doggie the most pleasant of meals. He had the superbly healthy man's
whole-hearted appreciation for unaccustomed good food. There were other
and finer pleasures--the table with its exquisite [v]napery and china
and glass and silver and flowers. There was the delightful atmosphere of
peace and gentle living. And there was Oliver--a new Oliver.

Most of all, Doggie appreciated Oliver's comrade-like attitude. It was a
recognition of him as a soldier. He had "made good" in the eyes of one
of the finest soldiers in the British army, and what else mattered? To
Doggie the supreme joy of that pleasurable evening was the knowledge
that he had done well in the eyes of Oliver. The latter wore on his
tunic the white, mauve, and white ribbon of the Military Cross. Honor
where honor was due. But he--Doggie--had been wounded, and Oliver
frankly put them both on the same plane of achievement, thus wiping away
with generous hand all the hated memories of the past.

When the ladies left the room the Dean went with them, and the cousins
were left alone.

"And now," said Oliver, "don't you think you're a bit of a fool,
Doggie? "

"I know it," Doggie returned cheerfully. "The army has drummed that into
me at any rate. "

"I mean in staying in the ranks," Oliver went on. "Why don't you apply
for the Cadet Corps and get a commission again? "

Doggie's brow grew dark. "I will tell you," he replied. "The only real
happiness I've had in my life has been as a Tommy. I'm not talking
foolishness. The only real friends I've ever made in my life are
Tommies. I've a real life as a Tommy, and I'm satisfied. When I came to
my senses after being thrown out for incompetence and I enlisted, I made
a vow that I would stick it out as a Tommy without anybody's sympathy,
least of all that of the people here. And as a Tommy I am a real soldier
and do my part. "

Oliver smiled. "I'm glad you told me, old man. I appreciate it very
much. I've been through the ranks myself and know what it is--the bad
and the good. Many a man has found his soul that way--"

"Heavens! " cried Doggie, starting to his feet. "Do you say that, too? "

The cousins clasped hands. That was Oliver's final recognition of Doggie
as a soldier and a man. Doggie had found his soul.

W. J.