A COUNCIL
Hot sunshine flooded the Ghyllside lawn, but there was a belt of
shadow beneath a copper beech, where a family group had gathered.
Leonard sat in a basket-chair, talking to Mrs. Fenwood, an elderly
widow with an austere expression; his wife and Gertrude Wannop were
whispering over their teacups; Wannop, red-faced and burly, stood
beside Robert Allinson, a solemn-looking clergyman.
"We have been here half an hour and not a word has been said yet upon
the subject everybody's itching to talk about. We're a decorous lot,"
Wannop remarked, surveying the others with amusement. "Personally, I
should be glad if we were allowed to go home without its being
broached. It's hardly the thing to discuss Andrew's shortcomings round
his table."
"There are times when it's a duty to overcome one's delicacy," Robert
replied. "If I have been correctly informed, the matter demands
attention. Hitherto the Allinsons have never given their neighbors
cause to criticize their conduct."
"None of them? I seem to remember----"
"None of them," Robert interposed firmly. "There was once a malicious
story about Arthur, but I am glad to say it was disproved. But this
Mrs. Olcott, whom I haven't seen--I suppose she's attractive?"
Wannop smiled.
"Distinctly so; what's more, she has a forlorn and pathetic air which
is highly fetching. Still, I'm convinced that there's no harm in her."
"A married woman living apart from her husband!" Robert exclaimed
severely. "I understand that Andrew is at her house now, and I must
confess that after walking some distance I feel hurt at his not being
here to receive us."
"He didn't know you were coming," Wannop pointed out, and added with a
roguish air: "We have all been young and I don't suppose you used to
look the other way when you met a pretty girl; but I'll go bail Andrew
only visits her out of charity. However, if you are determined to have
your say, you may as well begin and get it over."
Robert left him and addressed Leonard in a formal tone.
"I am told that Andrew is going out to assist in the development of
the new mine and wishes to be made a director. As a relative and a
shareholder, may I ask if you consider him fit for the post?"
Leonard had been waiting for an opening, and he welcomed the inquiry.
"Andrew has every right to demand the position, which I could not
refuse." He paused, for the next suggestion must be skilfully
conveyed. "As it happens, his abilities hardly enter into the
question. It is merely needful that we should have a representative on
the spot to whom we can send instructions, and I dare say he will get
a good deal of the fishing and shooting he enjoys. All matters of
importance will be decided in London."
"Then I take it that his inexperience and inaptitude can do the
company no harm?"
Leonard was grateful to him for so plainly expressing his meaning.
"Oh, no! Besides, I imagine that the change will be beneficial in
several ways."
Glancing at the others, he knew that he had said enough. It would have
been difficult for any of the family to cite a remark of his in open
disparagement of his brother-in-law, though he had cunningly fostered
their disbelief in him. His wife, however, was endowed with courage as
well as candor.
"There is nothing to be gained by shutting one's eyes to the truth,"
she observed. "We all know that Andrew's visits to this woman are
being talked about. What is more serious is that he induced her to
come here, and let her have The Firs on purely nominal terms."
"Is it so bad as that?" Mrs. Fenwood, with a shocked look, turned to
the clergyman, as if begging him to deal with the painful situation.
"The thing must be stopped; nipped in the bud," said Robert firmly. "I
agree with Leonard that our infatuated relative should be sent to
Canada at once."
Wannop smiled.
"It strikes me as fortunate that Andrew is willing to go."
"It's a favorable sign," said Mrs. Fenwood. "He may be struggling
against the creature's influence, in which case it's our duty to
assist him."
"That wasn't what I meant. I've a suspicion that we have fallen into a
habit of underestimating Andrew's abilities and determination." Wannop
looked hard at Leonard. "You are going to put him into a position of
responsibility and teach him to use his power. Are you prepared for
the possible consequences?"
Nobody paid much attention to this, and Leonard after a moment's
hesitation dismissed the matter. The Allinsons regarded Wannop as a
thoughtless person whose moral code was somewhat lax. Nevertheless, he
was shrewd and had read Andrew's character better than Leonard.
"If Andrew ever wishes to have his say in business matters, I should
have neither the desire nor the authority to object," Leonard said.
"Then we may rest assured that everything will be done to facilitate
his departure for Canada," Robert said decidedly. "There is only
another point--I wonder whether Mrs. Olcott could by any means be
induced to leave the neighborhood."
Wannop's eyes sparkled angrily. He was easy-going, but there was a
chivalrous vein in him.
"It would be wiser to leave the hatching of the plot until Andrew has
sailed!" he said indignantly.
"Plot is not the right word; and you are mistaken if you imagine that
any fear of Andrew's displeasure would deter me in a matter of duty.
With the welfare of the parish at heart----"
Wannop checked him.
"Duty's a good deal easier when it chimes with one's inclinations; and
the welfare of the parish isn't threatened by Mrs. Olcott. There are,
however, one or two abuses you could put your finger on to-morrow if
you liked, though I dare say it would get you into trouble."
Robert reddened and Mrs. Wannop made her husband a peremptory sign to
stop.
"I think we needn't talk about the matter any more," she said. "It is
decided that Andrew shall be sent to Canada."
They changed the subject, and a few minutes later Wannop left them.
Crossing the lawn, he met Hilda in a shrubbery walk.
"Where have you been?" he asked. "I haven't seen you since we came."
"Florence found me an errand that kept me out of the way," said Hilda
pointedly. "Now what have you and the others been talking about?"
"I mustn't betray a confidence," answered Wannop with twinkling eyes.
"Still, I dare say you can guess."
"Of course! They were discussing my erring brother. Aren't they
silly?"
"I think so. It's curious that you and I, whose opinions don't count
for much, should venture to differ with the rest."
Hilda gave him a grateful glance.
"But we are the ones who see most clearly. I have always felt that you
are to be trusted."
He made her a humorous bow.
"I must try to deserve such confidence."
"Don't be foolish; this is serious. They mean well, but they're all
wrong about Andrew. Of course, I make fun of him now and then, but I'm
very fond of him. It's a mistake to think he's stupid; and Leonard's
responsible for it."
"I'll admit that something of the kind has occurred to me," Wannop
said.
Hilda hesitated.
"Well," she said, "I have never had much confidence in Leonard, though
the others think him perfect. I've an idea that all along he has been
gently pushing Andrew aside, making him look silly, and undermining
the influence he ought to have. Now he's sending him to Canada--I very
much wonder why? He has some reason."
Wannop started.
"My dear, your suspicions go a trifle farther than mine. You may be
right, though it's not nice to think so. But where does all this
lead?"
"Andrew may need supporters who don't altogether believe in the
immaculate Leonard some day. I think, if needful, he could count on
us."
"And on nobody else?"
"Not until the others understood; and it would be hard to make them
see."
"Uncommonly hard," Wannop admitted. "Well, Hilda, you and I will be
allies. We can conspire together unsuspected, because we are the two
who are not supposed to count--you because you're too young and
charming; I because I haven't the fine moral fastidiousness and air of
distinction that marks the Allinsons. But I'll let you into a
secret--Gertrude's wavering in her ideas about Andrew: I'm perverting
her."
"There's something I'd better tell you. I met Mrs. Olcott half an hour
ago and I stopped and spoke. I like her--there isn't the least reason
why I shouldn't--and I'm sorry for her. I know she feels being left
alone, and we're going to be friends. Now if the others should try to
make things unpleasant?"
"I imagine Robert means mischief."
"I was afraid of it," said Hilda. "Of course, he's as silly and unable
to see things properly as an owl in daylight, but solemn stupid people
often pass for being wise, and he might do harm. If he tries, can you
stop him? I know Andrew would like it."
Wannop made a sign of rather dubious assent.
"As I'm unromantically stout, getting elderly, and devoid of personal
charm, I might perhaps venture to interfere in this matter. After
all, there's a sense in which Andrew is undoubtedly to blame. Why do
you let him go to The Firs so often?"
"If I should give him a hint that people are talking, it would only
make him angry. You know he really is slow at understanding now and
then."
They strolled back to the party, which soon afterward broke up, for
although Hilda begged them to wait for dinner nobody seemed anxious to
meet Andrew. When they had gone, Hilda turned to Leonard with a smile.
"Had an interesting talk?" she asked. "You all looked so serious that
I was afraid to join you."
Leonard glanced at her sharply.
"As you grow older you'll find that there are matters which can't be
treated humorously."
"It's possible," Hilda agreed. "Still, that remark is too much in
Robert's style. Improving conversation is apt to get tiresome."
She moved away and Leonard watched her with thoughtful eyes. He
believed he enjoyed her sisters' confidence, but he was doubtful of
Hilda.
Three weeks later Andrew sailed, and soon after he had done so Wannop
called one afternoon at The Firs, where he was received by Mrs. Olcott
in the garden. He thought she looked harassed, but he had expected
this.
"I believe you have met my wife," he began, taking the canvas chair
she indicated.
"Yes," said Mrs. Olcott. "She called on me and, if I remember right,
stayed five minutes."
This was not encouraging.
"You know my sister-in-law, Hilda, better?" Wannop ventured.
Mrs. Olcott's expression softened.
"That is true; I have reason to be grateful to her."
"Hilda is a very nice girl. I verily believe that we are fond of each
other, and as I am more than double her age, she now and then favors
me with her confidence. In fact, she suggested that I might be able to
help you out of a difficulty."
His hostess studied him carefully. He was burly and looked hot after
his walk, but he had a reassuring smile and his red face seemed to
indicate good-nature. She thought that he could be trusted.
"It's about the house," she said. "I don't know where else to go and
it looks as if I might be turned out."
That this should distress her hinted at some degree of poverty, and
Wannop felt compassionate. She was young and inexperienced, and had
been coldly treated by her neighbors.
"How is that?" he asked.
After a moment of irresolution Mrs. Olcott decided to tell him.
"Mr. Allinson arranged about the house. Perhaps I shouldn't have
allowed this, but when he was wounded in the war my husband carried
him out of reach of the Boer fire."
"Ah! Andrew ought to have made that clear. But won't you go on with
the explanation?"
"Mr. Allinson told me that no papers were needed, I was to pay the
rent to a man called Judson. He came here and said that there had been
some mistake. The rent was ten pounds more and I must share the cost
of the alterations, while the field adjoining, which must go with The
Firs, would be another extra. When I declared I couldn't pay all this
he said I was undoubtedly liable, but he could find another tenant
who would take the house off my hands."
"I see a clerical finger in this pie," said Wannop half aloud, and
smiled at his hostess. "I beg your pardon. I suppose you didn't know
that this is Andrew Allinson's house."
Mrs. Olcott started and colored.
"I did not know. But if it is, I can't understand why his agent--"
"Somebody is back of him. Now we had better be candid. I venture to
believe you can confide in me."
"What proof can I have of that? You are a connection of the Allinsons,
who seem bent on persecuting me. Have they sent you here?"
"Hilda did," Wannop replied with quiet good-humor. "Perhaps I had
better say that on some points she and I are not quite in accord with
the rest of the family. I suppose Andrew promised your husband to look
after you until his return?"
Mrs. Olcott agreed, for her suspicions about his errand had vanished.
Wannop mused for a few moments.
"I think you should stay here and fight it out until he comes back,"
he said. "After all, your neighbors are honest as far as they see, and
you'll find them ready to make amends."
Mrs. Olcott's eyes sparkled, but she hesitated.
"I'm afraid I can't hold out. They have attacked me where I'm
weakest."
"Will you leave the matter of the house to me? It can be put right."
"Why are you willing to take the trouble?"
Wannop laughed.
"For one thing, I enjoy putting a spoke in the parson's wheel; for
another, Andrew made you a promise, and the Allinsons like to keep
their word."
He got up and held out his hand.
"I'll have a talk with Mr. Judson. Show your courage and hold your
ground. You'll be glad you did so by and by."
The next morning Wannop called at the agent's office in a neighboring
town. He was shown into a dingy room, where an elderly man with
spectacles received him with deference.
"I've been looking into accounts, Judson," Wannop began abruptly.
"After deducting your commission and the cost of the repairs you
agreed to, I find that the return on my property for the past year is
small. Now I met Maxwell the other day and he hinted that it might be
managed to better advantage."
The agent looked alarmed.
"I understood you didn't wish to put the screw on your tenants; and it
isn't good policy."
"No," said Wannop; "I want to be fair. I don't think Andrew Allinson
would wish any undue pressure put on his tenants either. As we talk
over things now and then, I know his views."
Judson pondered this without answering, and Wannop resumed:
"My business and Andrew's should be worth a good deal to you, though
Maxwell seemed to think that both could be improved."
"Maxwell couldn't get you a penny more than I have got," Judson
declared. "I should be very sorry if you contemplated a change."
"I shouldn't do so without a strong reason. You look after the
Reverend Robert Allinson's property, but your commission on it can't
be large."
"It is not," said Judson, beginning to understand where the other's
remarks led.
"Well," went on Wannop, "I saw Mrs. Olcott yesterday, and she
mentioned the misunderstanding about her lease. I may tell you that
Mrs. Wannop and Miss Allinson are friends of hers."
Judson was surprised, but decided that if he must offend either Wannop
or the clergyman, it would better be the latter.
"Mr. Andrew called here in a hurry and said he had got a tenant for
The Firs and I was to have some alterations made. He was driving, and
as his horse was restive he ran out before we could talk over
details."
Wannop thought this was correct, for Andrew was sometimes careless.
"Atkinson will take the field off your hands. It's not usual to charge
a tenant with needful repairs; and you mustn't be hard on Mrs. Olcott
about the rent. Perhaps you had better go over and put things straight
with her."
Judson promised to do so and Wannop took out some papers.
"Here's a more important matter. I've decided to buy Bell's place, and
you can see his agent and the architect as soon as convenient."
He rode away, knowing that his hints would be attended to. During the
evening he met Hilda.
"I've seen Mrs. Olcott and Judson," he told her. "It's very unlikely
that she'll have any more trouble about The Firs."
"That's splendid!" cried Hilda. "But how did you manage it?"
Wannop chuckled.
"My dear girl, an explanation isn't always desirable. When you know
how a thing's done it spoils the trick."
"Oh, well," said Hilda, "it doesn't matter, but you have a
suspiciously complacent look. One could imagine that you felt
satisfied with yourself."
"There's some truth in that," Wannop laughed. "I feel that we have
held our own against the more brilliant members of the family. But
here's Robert!"
The clergyman appeared around a turn in the road and joined them.
"You seem amused," he remarked. "May I share the joke?"
"The point's involved," Wannop said. "However, you'll agree that the
wisest people's plans sometimes fail."
"I can't deny it," said Robert, looking puzzled. "Still, I fail to
understand what the failure of wise people's plans has to do with us."
"As a modest man," said Wannop, "I'll admit that it doesn't seem to
have much to do with me."