Today | News | Books | Recipes Adventure | Science Fiction | Ghost stories | Poetry | Children | History The Boy with WingsThe Project Gutenberg eBook of The Boy with Wings This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. Title: The Boy with Wings Author: Berta Ruck Release date: May 27, 2011 [eBook #36223] Language: English Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/36223 Credits: Produced by Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOY WITH WINGS *** Produced by Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net THE BOY WITH WINGS The Boy With Wings By BERTA RUCK (MRS. OLIVER ONIONS) AUTHOR OF "His Official Fiancee," "The Wooing of Rosamond Fayre," "In Another Girl's Shoes," Etc. [Illustration] A. L. BURT COMPANY Publishers New York Published by arrangement with DODD, MEAD & COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1915, By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY Published in England under the title of "The Lad With Wings." DEDICATED, WITH AFFECTION TO THAT BRAINLESS ARMY TYPE. MY YOUNGEST BROTHER "The men of my own stock Bitter-bad they may be, But at least they hear the things I hear. They see the things I see." KIPLING. CONTENTS PART I _MAY, JUNE, JULY, 1914_ CHAPTER PAGE I AERIAL LIGHT HORSE 3 II THE BOSOM-CHUMS 19 III THE EYES OF ICARUS 34 IV THE SONG OF ALL THE AGES 54 V THE WORKADAY WORLD 62 VI THE INVITATION 71 VII A BACHELOR'S TEA-PARTY 75 VIII LAUGHING ODDS 82 IX A DAY IN THE COUNTRY 89 X LESLIE, ON "THE ROOTS OF THE ROSE" 107 XI THE HEELS OF MERCURY 122 XII THE KISS WITHHELD 128 XIII THE FLYING DREAM 144 XIV AN AWAKENING 152 XV LESLIE ON "TOO MUCH LOVE" 168 XVI THE AEROPLANE LADY 178 XVII LESLIE ON "MARRIAGE" 186 XVIII THE OBVIOUS THING 193 XIX THE SEALED BOX 212 PART II _JULY, AUGUST, SEPTEMBER, 1914_ I THE AVIATION DINNER 223 II THE WHISPER OF WAR 235 III THE LAST SUNDAY OF PEACE 241 IV THAT WEEK-END 259 V THE DIE IS CAST 265 VI HER GUARDIAN'S CONSENT 267 VII HASTE TO THE WEDDING! 280 VIII THE GIRL HE LEFT BEHIND HIM 293 IX THIS SIDE OF "THE FRONT" 300 X LESLIE, ON "THE MOTLEY OF MARS" 310 XI A LOVE-LETTER--AND A ROSE 321 PART III _SEPTEMBER, NINETEEN-FOURTEEN_ I A WAR-TIME HONEYMOON 335 II THE SOUL OF UNDINE 345 III A LAST FAVOUR 350 IV THE DEPARTURE FOR FRANCE 361 V THE NUPTIAL FLIGHT 364 VI THE WINGED VICTORY 370 POSTSCRIPT--MYRTLE AND LAUREL LEAF 376 PART I _MAY, JUNE, JULY, 1914_ CHAPTER I AERIAL LIGHT HORSE Hendon! An exquisite May afternoon, still and sunny. Above, a canopy of unflecked sapphire-blue. Below, the broad khaki-green expanse of the flying-ground, whence the tall, red-white-and-blue pylons pointed giant fingers to the sky. Against the iron railings of the ground the border of chairs was thronged with spectators; women and girls in summery frocks, men in light overcoats with field-glasses slung by a strap about them. The movement of this crowd was that of a breeze in a drift of coloured petals; the talk and laughter rose and fell as people looked about at the great sheds with their huge lettered names, at the big stand, at the parked-up motors behind the seats; at the men in uniform carrying their brass instruments slowly across to the bandstand on the left. At intervals everybody said to everybody else: "Isn't this just a perfect afternoon for the flying?" * * * * * Presently, there passed the turnstile entrance at the back of the parked motor-cars a group of three young girls, chattering together. One was in pink; one was in cornflower-blue. The girl who walked between them wore all white, with a sunshine-yellow jersey-coat flung over her arm. Crammed well down upon her head she wore a shady white hat, bristling with a flight of white wings; it seemed to overshadow the whole of her small compact, but supple little person, which was finished off by a pair of tiny, white-canvas-shod feet. She was the youngest as well as the smallest of the trio standing at the turnstile. (Observe her, if you please; then leave or follow her, for she is the Girl of this story.) "This is my show!" she declared. Her softly-modulated voice had a trace of Welsh accent as she added, "I'm paying for this, indeed!" "No, you aren't, then, Gwenna Williams!" protested the girl in pink (whose accent was Higher Cockney). "We were all to pay for ourselves!" "Yes; but wasn't it me that made you come into the half-crown places because I was so keen to see a flying-machine _close_?... I'll pay the difference then, if you _must_ make a fuss. We'll settle up at the office on Monday," said the girl who had been addressed as Gwenna Williams. With a girlish, self-conscious little gesture she took half a sovereign out of her wash-leather glove and handed it to the tall, be-medalledd commissionaire. "Come on, now, girls," she said. "This is going to be lovely!" And she led the way forward to that line of seats, where there were just three green chairs vacant together. Laughing, chattering, gay with the ease of Youth in its own company, the three, squeezed rather close together by the press, sat down; Gwenna, the Welsh girl, in the middle. The broad brim of her hat brushed against the roses of the pink-clad girl's cheaper hat as Gwenna leaned forward. "Sorry, Butcher," she said. She moved. This time one of the white wings caught a pin in the hat of the plump blonde in blue, who exclaimed resignedly and in an accent that was neither of Wales nor of England, "Now komm I also into this hat-business of Candlestick-maker. It _is_ a bit of oll right!" "_So_ sorry, Baker," apologised the girl in white again, putting up her hands to disengage the hat. "I'll take it off, like a matinee. Yes, I will, indeed. We shall all see better." She removed the hat from a small head that was very prettily overgrown with brown, thick, cropped curls. The bright eyes with which she blinked at first in the strong sunlight were of the colour of the flying-ground before them: earth-brown and turf-green mixed. "I will hold your hat, since it is for me that you take him off," said the girl whom they called Baker. Her real name was Becker; Ottilie Becker. She worked at the German correspondence of that London office where the other two girls, Gwenna Williams and Mabel Butcher, were typists. It was one of the many small jokes of the place to allude to themselves as the Butcher, the Baker, and the Candlestick-maker. All three were excellent friends.... The other two scarcely realised that Gwenna, the Celt, was different from themselves; more absent-minded, yet more alive. A passer-by might have summed her up as "a pretty, commonplace |