GHOST OF “BOBS”

Evening Star, Issue 19659, 12 September 1927, Page 6

GHOST OF “BOBS”

IN EARLY DAYS OF WAR WHAT A GIRL SAW I believe seeing ghosts, in tho veritable, genuine sense, is commoner than most people think (writes Miss Mary Balfour, a nicco of Earl Balfour, in the ‘ Weekly Dispatch ’). But by tho ordinary mortal it cannot bo done to order. At least, I certainly have no power to raise them. In fact, it is only when I am feeling fittest, and as unprepared for such apparitions as one can well be, that they ever visit me. Even then I must bo so free from psychic consciousness that what I see I must believe to be real flesh and blood. As soon as ever my reason tells me this cannot be, the sight disappears at once, as if it were chiefly a matter of rapidity of thinking. Tho average person reasons so quickly that ho has no time to believe against bis reason._ My brain is often slow enough to give mo plenty of time. Perhaps that is why the feeble-minded arc so often gifted with second sight! Most of my ghosts have been either of people 1 once knew or people of whom 1 had never hoard. Only once have 1 scon tho ghost of a well-known public character. In my childhood I was given to hero worship. I can just remember the Boer War, and in connection with it two possessions have ever since remained inseparably in my mind—a pair of new shoes and a friend of my own at the front. I was inordinately proud of both. Tho friend was Lord Roberts. I met him in Dublin, and he was very gracious. I had admired his uniform, and he had admired my shoes. 1 was sorry later that he had to go and fight so that I con Id not show him my new stockings, but I was very proud to think I liad a real soldier “ out there,” though my idea of lighting was based on nursery pictures drawn by people who had obviously never been out anywhere. IN THE BATTLE SMOKE. Years went by, and I grew out of my hero worship. I also grew out of other childish things, such as baby shoes, but 1 never quite forgot the thrill that tho name of Lord Roberts used to stir in my small breast, and when 1 saw him again, at the ago_ of about fifteen, there was no shattering of tho illusion; ho was so exactly as 1 had remembered him. So I continued not to forget. Another war came—bigger and more terrible than tho South African War —and I had many belongings at tho front. But not Lord Roberts. A merciful Heaven had ordained that ho should live to see the battle lino once more, and “ pass in the very battle smoke” before age had time to bid him give place to “ Hie sons whoso sires had served with him.” Late in November, 1914, 1 accompanied my mother to _ call on Lady Roberts, whoso place in Surrey was within reasonable distance of our own. 1 remember the chief topic ol interest was tho recent • birth of a. grandchild who was at that moment lying upstairs. The mother of the baby was a much-lovcd daughter of Lord Roberts, and it was a source of great sadness that the child had not been horn before lie died. Mv mother and Lady Roberts sat on a sofa talking of this and other things, while 1 roamed aboutthc room looking at the curious mixture of Western and Eastern objects that filled it. I supposed Lord Roberts bad gathered them together, and I wondered if they would all toll stories could they speak to me. Then, as is usual when one is rather bored, my thoughts ran about inconsequontly. For instance, I wondered if, had ho lived to know it, Lord Roberts would have admired his grandchild’s shoos, or been as nice to it as ho had been to me. I thought how .maddening it was that at tho ago of four or five I had not. enough sense to profit by my ptoud friendship. If I could only have got Lord Roberts to talk about—well, his slices instead of mine. At tho age of fifteen I had been roo shy to draw tho groat man into talking about anything. T could only express my futile admiration by joining tho solemn family walk that was the invariable Sunday ritual for the grownups, just because ho was of it; otherwise I should have been employed very differently. What ghastly lot of opportunities one did miss! If I could only have them again I 0)' course, probably I should be the same fool. One is apt to be. ... “ BOB” WALKS IN. The door clicked, and automatically I looked to see who would come round the screen. But how simply splendid! it was he! Heaven grant that I did not waste another opportunity. He paused as 1 made a movement to greet him, and. laying a linger for an instant on his lips, ho lifted Ids head to listen intently.

Aly mother and .Lady Roberts never looked up from their talking, and I half-considcml whether i should sign to them to be quiet till he had heard what lie wanted to hear. Ho was not looking at any of us, being too intent on his listening, so I was aide to watch him without reserve. Ho had one hand on tho hack of tho armchair in front of him and the other was raised a little, as if to command silence when necessary. His small, lean face was exactly as 1 had remembered it, and his eyes were as full of the same infinite gentleness. Somewhere at the back of my mind was a furtive sense of shame. How could I possibly have got mixed up? I thought it was Lord Roberts that had just died. I must never, never Jet anyone know I had made such an awful mistake. Who on earth was it that had died? Too dreadful of me! WHY HE CAAIE BACK.

'Die maid came in with the tea tray. She passed behind tho screen and behind him with an odd indifference to Ins standing in the way,_ and vaguely I expected her to apologise for brushing his khaki sleeve; hub she did not, and I was uncomfortable at her rudeness.

Then, suddenly, through the open door came the sound of a baby’s cry, and with tho sound the full possession of my reason. Tho grandchild! And ho had wanted to live to see it! He was dead, then, and I no longer saw what I had seen. The maid left tho room, Lady Roberts started pouring out tea, and my mother continued talking serenely. I sat down, just where I was, because my knees were shaking a little.