Black coat-tails came whisking up Heron drive on a bicycle, and Verity
tore to the drawing-room to set about her usual preparations.
From some obscure corner a dusty _Doll’s House_ was dragged into the
light of day; _Anne Veronica_ scuttled into position beside the latest
problem novel, _Woman Enthroned_; Zola, Oscar Wilde and Cicely Hamilton
shared the shelter of the same chrysanthemum; while from the silver
table Mrs. Pankhurst addressed the world at large.
The hall-door opened, and Verity, scattering a few Mormon tracts at
random over the sofa, flung herself at the piano and dashed into the
new war-song--“Way for the Women!” just as the Vicar was announced;
only to be conscious, as she rose to greet him, of the utter futility
of her dramatic efforts.
“The man sees nothing but the inside of his own head!” she told
herself, as she welcomed him prettily, and watched him settle himself
among the Mormons. “It’s a real waste of time trying to be artistic
with him, and I think I’d better take Larry’s advice and give it up.”
“I’ll tell my mother,” she added aloud, moving to the door. Mrs.
Cantacute was a widow and an invalid, which was counted by some as
Verity’s sole excuse.
The young parson, however, sprang to his feet, putting out a protesting
hand, his dark eyes very bright and eager.
“No, no, please don’t!--that is, not just yet. There is something I
want to say to you alone, Miss Cantacute, if you will be kind enough to
spare me a few minutes.”
“Of course!” Verity shifted Ibsen from his chair, and sat down with him
in her lap, the title invitingly uppermost; and Mr. Grant looked at
the little figure in blue with its shining head and downcast eyes, and
thought of Raphael and Correggio and Fra Angelico and ladders of angels
and Rebekah at the well.
“I want to ask you a favour,” he began, picking up a Mormon, and
crackling it nervously without looking at it. “You’ll think I’m very
interfering, I expect, and perhaps very impertinent, but I don’t doubt
that you will see my point of view in the end. One has only to look
at you, Miss Cantacute, to know that you are incapable of any but the
very highest and noblest instincts concerning any subject of spiritual
importance.”
Verity looked up deprecatingly without saying anything; then refixed
her gaze on the buckle of her left shoe. The Mormon crackled harder
than ever.
“I hear that you are arranging an elaborate Pierrot entertainment,”
he went on, “the work for which is to occupy a large portion of the
winter. I don’t want to discount your kindness, Miss Cantacute, in
organising displays of this sort for the amusement of an isolated
little village, but I do ask you to consider one particular point. As
you know, I found, when I came, that many of the usual church efforts
for promoting spiritual growth had fallen into neglect. There was no
mission-work, for instance, no special service for men, no Girls’
Friendly or Temperance League; no sewing-parties, night-classes or
lectures. I have worked hard to alter that state of things, and at
last I earnestly believe I am beginning to succeed. Most of the young
men and women of the parish are at present pleasantly and profitably
employed during each evening of the week, striving to become worthy
helpers in the great Cause. Now you, Miss Cantacute, propose to
distract their minds by musical and dramatic rehearsals held almost
daily; and I ask you, very humbly, and with real anxiety, whether you
think yourself justified in interfering thus arbitrarily with the work
of the Church? I love my task, as you scarcely need telling, but at the
same time it has its disagreeable side. I have had my battle to fight,
like every one else, and it has not been a small one, by any means--far
from it! But at least I was beginning to trust it was won. Now--I don’t
know. I don’t know!”
He rose sharply, and began to pace up and down the room, his hands
behind him, passing _Anne_ and Oscar without so much as a glance.
Verity still said nothing.
“I had heard so much about you before I came, Miss Cantacute. I was
told how clever you were, how charming, how heart to heart with the
villagers, how affectionately regarded on all sides! I had it said to
me that, with Verity Cantacute under my banner, I need never know an
hour’s uneasiness. I have tried very hard to enlist you; you will admit
that. I have asked you to work for me--the very highest compliment in
the world! I have offered you posts second only in importance to my
own. I have done all in my power to demonstrate to you that, after
myself, I regard you as the greatest influence in the parish. And yet,
despite all this, you have met me, time after time, with rebuff on
rebuff, refusal on refusal--rejection, discouragement, almost contempt!”
He looked again at his silent hostess--at the prayerful hands, lightly
clasped, the Madonna-like parting of the hair, the subdued, gentle bend
of the neck, and his hopes rose. Surely, surely she was touched! He sat
down thoughtlessly upon _Woman Enthroned_, and leaned anxiously towards
her.
“Can’t I persuade you to give up this entertainment, my friend? I
don’t say that it is wrong in itself--I am not as ridiculously narrow
and one-sided as that--but I do say that it comes at a very critical
moment in the spiritual life of the parish--at a time when even an
innocent amusement may be grasped by the devil as a weapon of offence.
My boys and girls will come to you in preference to me--it is only
natural. Music and laughter will of course appeal to them more than
lantern-slides on Church History--singing and dancing please them
better than lectures upon How to Keep Bees. There will be big gaps
in my hitherto well-filled rows of faces--faces which send me to bed
happy every night of the week. They will be with you, Miss Cantacute,
enjoying themselves and learning to be very clever; but will they be
learning to be--good?”
Verity was white to the lips as she pushed her chair back from him a
fraction, so that the _Doll’s House_ slid heavily to the floor; but she
smiled at him quite sweetly.
“There’s Billy-boy Blackburn to be considered,” she said very gently.
“I _did_ pay the bet, you know, so we’re quits again and can start
afresh. And I want Billy-boy back.”
He stared at her, puzzled, worried, helpless before the workings of
this strange little brain.
“I don’t think I quite understand,” he said at last. “You can’t mean, I
suppose, that you want Billy as one of your Pierrots? Such a thing is
absolutely out of the question!”
“But why?” Verity opened innocent eyes of wide surprise. “Billy-boy
sings like an angel, and he has a perfect ear. As for dancing, you
should just try reversing with him--oh, of course you can’t--but I
give you my word that he’s positively divine.”
“‘Divine’ is certainly the very last term I should think of applying
to him!” Grant snapped hastily, forgetting for the moment that he was
a parson, and only remembering that he was a man. “If you insist upon
having this performance, I must request that he shall not be included.
You cannot have him to practise in your drawing-room. You cannot appear
with him on a public platform. I--I shall speak to your mother about
it, and in the meantime I absolutely forbid it!”
Verity laughed tunefully, and he was filled with a sudden and rabid
desire to shake her.
“Oh, I shouldn’t worry about it, if I were you!” she said kindly. “I
was brought up with Billy-boy Blackburn, after a manner of speaking,
and I know how to manage him beautifully. He’ll be a lamb, you’ll
see, and dance like a duck. I’m dreadfully sorry, but I feel bound to
go on with the entertainment now it’s started. Church History is a
little--well--a little _historical_, isn’t it?” She smiled angelically.
“And, you know, I _did_ pay the salmon on the nail!”
He got up for the last time, also very white, and desperately hurt.
“You are exceedingly foolish!” he said, struggling to speak quietly.
“Foolish and headstrong and very unfair.” He turned rather blindly in
the direction of the door. “And very unkind!” he added, groping among
the Mormons for his hat; and Verity bit her lip. It was only to his
official side that she mentally put up her fists. When he was boyish
and puzzled she wanted to promise everything and give him an orange.
But to yield now meant defeat for all time, and that simply couldn’t be
thought of, so she hardened her heart and refused to let Israel go. The
next moment she congratulated herself, for he wrecked his cause at the
very door.
“You will be sorry if you do this thing!” he said, losing his tact
utterly before her steadier nerve. “You can’t really care about a
foolish concert, and who knows what souls may through it be laid to
your account? Give it up and come to my help with the Girls’ Friendly.
I’m badly off for subordinates in several cases, just now. And if you
really want to do something artistic, you might teach the Sunday School
a little fairy play. Think it over!”
Verity laughed again, but openly this time, gaily and whole-heartedly.
The dear thing was so deliciously funny!
“Billy-boy Blackburn is too old for Sunday School,” she said
pleasantly, “and I can hardly picture him as a fairy, can you? After
all, Billy is the point, you know. Don’t you think we might as well be
frank and admit it? And I _do_ play fair, whatever you say. You mustn’t
forget that I paid the salmon!”