"So that was your heroine of the adventure, Wagram?" said the old Squire
as they sat at breakfast the following morning.
"Yes. What did you think of her?"
"Poor girl."
"Poor girl? Why?" asked Monsignor Culham.
"Spells Calmour."
There was a laugh at this.
"He is a holy terror, Monsignor," explained Haldane. "Sort of paints
the town red at intervals. The whole lot of them are impossible, yet
this girl seems an exception. She's been away from home a long time, I
believe, and, of course, that may account for it."
"Possibly," said the prelate. "I noticed her yesterday, and she seemed
very devout. Are these people Catholics?"
"Not they. I don't suppose they're anything at all," answered Haldane.
"Old Calmour was very `sky blue' that day I called there," said Wagram.
"He groped right past me, and I was thankful he didn't know me from
Adam. He was certainly `talking' when he couldn't batter his own gate
in."
"They say the girls have to stop their ears tight when he's `fresh,'"
said Haldane; "and yet Damages can do a little `talking' off her own
from all accounts."
"You wouldn't think it to look at her," said Wagram.
"That's just it. But I believe it's a fact, all the same."
"Well, then, what about this other one?" pursued Wagram mischievously.
"She may be just as deceptive, and yet you've booked her to lunch at
your place next week."
"I rather pride myself on being a student of character," said Haldane,
"and I don't, somehow, think this case will prove me wrong."
"No; I don't think so either," assented Wagram.
"I formed a favourable impression of her, too--the mere glimpse I had of
her when we met," said Monsignor Culham. "She certainly is a very
pretty girl, and I should think a good one. It might even be that in
the fulness of time she should prove the means of salvaging the rest of
the family."
"Her brother Bob would take a great deal of salvaging," said Haldane
drily. "Hallo, the child's late," he added, with a glance at the clock.
"Said she'd be in before this."
"In! Why, I thought she might be sleeping off the effects of her
efforts yesterday," said the Squire.
"Not she. She's adding to them. She's gone down with Hood to try and
capture an early trout."
"Really!" exclaimed Monsignor. "Is she generally successful, Mr
Haldane?"
"She's a very fair hand at throwing a fly. Really, though, Monsignor,
I'm afraid you'll think me a doting sort of a driveller on that subject.
The fact is, we all spoil her shockingly among us. Wagram doesn't come
far behind me in that line, and the Squire too."
"I'm not surprised," answered the prelate. "I think she is without
exception the dearest child I have ever seen, and the proof of it is she
remains unspoiled through it all. Why, there she is."
On the lawn she was standing, just handing her trout rod to the old head
keeper, who could not refrain from turning his head with a smile of
admiration as he walked away. Then she danced up to the window, the
pink flush of health in her cheeks, the blue eyes alight with a
mischievous challenge.
"Well? What luck, Sunbeam?" said Haldane, who was already at the open
window.
"Ah--ah! I wasn't to get any, was I?" she cried ostentatiously, holding
down the lid of her creel. "Well--look."
She exhibited a brace of beautiful trout, each something over a pound,
but in first-rate condition.
"Did you get them yourself?" said Wagram, who liked to tease her
occasionally.
"Mr Wagram! I shall not speak to you for the whole of to-day--no--half
of it."
"I thought possibly Hood might have captured them," he explained. "Did
you say one or both?"
"Now it will be the whole of the day."
"Well done, little one. Did they fight much?" said Haldane. "You shall
tell us about it presently. Cut away now and titivate, because Wagram
was threatening to polish off all the strawberries if you weren't soon
in, and I want you to have some."
"He'd better; that's all," was the answer as she danced away, knowing
perfectly well that the offender designate would get through the
intervening time picking out all the largest and most faultless--looking
for her especial delectation. Whereby it is manifest that her father
had stated no more than bare fact in asserting that they all combined to
spoil her. Equally true, it should be added, was Monsignor Culham's
dictum that they had not succeeded.
"Are my censures removed?" said Wagram as Yvonne entered. "Look at all
I have been doing for you," holding up the plate of strawberries.
"I don't know. Perhaps they ought to be. I said I wouldn't speak to
you for the whole day. Well, we'll make it half the day. I'll begin at
lunch-time."
"Then we'll say half the strawberries. You shall have the other half at
lunch-time."
"Look at that!" she cried. "Claiming pardon by a threat! You can't do
that, can he, Monsignor?"
"Certainly not," answered the prelate, entering thoroughly into the fun
of the thing; "not for a moment."
"_Roma locuta--causa finita_," pronounced Wagram with mock solemnity,
handing her the plate. "Of course, I bow."
"In that case I must treat you with generosity, and will talk to you
now, especially as you are dying to know where and how I got my trout.
I got them both, then, within fifty yards of each other; one in the hole
below Syndham Bridge, the other at the tail of the hole; one with a
Wickham's Fancy, the other with a small Zulu--"
"Didn't Hood play them for--?"
"Ssh-h-h! You'll get into trouble again," interrupted Yvonne. "You're
repeating the offence, mind."
"_Peccavi_."
"I'll forgive you again on one condition: I'm just spoiling for a
bicycle ride. You shall take me for one this afternoon."
"Won't the whole day be enough for you?"
"Not quite. The afternoon will, though."
"Well, that'll suit me to a hair. We'll make a round, and I'll look in
at Pritchett's farm; I want to see him about something. What do you
think, Haldane? Are you on?"
"Very much off, I'm afraid. I sent my machine in to Warren's to be
overhauled. He promised it for yesterday morning, but the traditions of
the great British tradesman must be kept up. Wherefore it is not yet
here. But you take the child all the same."
At first Yvonne declared she didn't want to go under the circumstances,
but was overruled.
"I've got to go into Fulkston on business, Sunbeam," said her father,
"so I shall be out of mischief, anyhow. I'll borrow one of the Squire's
gees, if I may."
"Why, of course," said the Squire. "You know them all, Haldane. Tell
Thompson which you'd rather ride."
Then the conversation turned to matters ecclesiastical, also, as between
the two old gentlemen, reminiscent. They had been schoolfellows in
their boyhood, but the clean-shaven, clear-cut face of Monsignor Culham,
and the white hair, worn rather long, gave him a much older look than
the other; yet there was hardly a year's difference between them. Both
had in common the same tall, straight figure, together with the same
kindly geniality of expression.
"I think I shall invite myself this time next year, Grantley," said the
prelate. "It is really a privilege to take part in such a solemnity as
we held yesterday. It makes one anticipate time--very much time, I
fear--when such is more the rule throughout the country than an isolated
and, of course, doubly valued privilege."
"My dear old friend, I hope you will. Only you must pardon my reminding
you that it is for no want of asking on my part that ages have elapsed
since you were here. And they have."
"Well, it certainly wasn't yesterday, and I concede being in the wrong,"
rejoined Monsignor Culham. "But I have been in more than one cathedral
church where the solemnities were nothing like so carefully and
accurately performed. It was a rare pleasure to take part in these."
"Here, Wagram, get up and return thanks," laughed Haldane. "If it
weren't breakfast-time one would have said that Monsignor was proposing
your health."
"The lion's share of the kudos is due to Father Gayle," said Wagram.
"He and I between us managed to knock together a fairly decent choir for
a country place, which includes Haldane, a host in himself, and,
incidentally, Yvonne. The rest is easy."
"`Incidentally Yvonne!'" repeated that young person with mock
resentment.
"I don't know about easy," declared Monsignor Culham. "The fact remains
you had got together an outside crowd who weren't accustomed to singing
with each other--over and above your own people."
"Yes; but we sent word to the convent asking them to practise their
children in what we were going to sing--and to practise them out of
doors, too. For the rest of those who helped us we trusted to their
intuitive gumption."
"Ah, that's a good plan," said the prelate; "there's too little care
given to that sort of thing. Singers on such an occasion are left to
sort themselves. Result: discord--hitches innumerable."
"I know," said Haldane. "I was on the sanctuary once in a strange
church. They were going to have the _Te Deum_ solemnly sung for an
occasion. I asked for a book with the square notation score. They had
no such thing in their possession, and the consequence was everyone was
dividing up the syllables at his own sweet will. It was neither
harmonious nor jubilant."
"I should think not," assented Wagram emphatically. "Now, there is
hardly an outdoor function I have been present at which hasn't
represented to my mind everything that outdoor singing ought not to be.
Unaccompanied singing is too apt to sound thin, and if backed up with
brass instruments it sounds thinner still. So we dispense with them
here, and our oft-repeated and especially final injunction to all hands
is: `Sing up!'"
"Well, it certainly was effective with your singers, Wagram," pronounced
Monsignor Culham, "and I shall cite it as an instance whenever
opportunity offers."
"That's good, Monsignor," returned Wagram. "We want all round to make
everything as solemn and dignified and attractive as possible, as far as
our opportunities here allow, especially to those outside; and we have
reason to know that good results have followed."
"In conversions?"
"Yes. We throw open the grounds to all comers on these occasions, and
in the result some who come merely to see a picturesque pageant are
impressed, and--inquire further."
"I wonder what proportion of the said `all comers' confine their sense
of the picturesque to the tables in the marquee," remarked Haldane, who
was of a cynical bent.
"Well, you know the old saying, Haldane--that one of the ways to reach a
man's soul is through his stomach," laughed the Squire. "Anything in
that paper, by the way?"
"N-no," answered Haldane, who had been skimming the local morning paper,
while keeping one ear open for the general conversation. "Wait,
though--yes, this is rather interesting--if only that it reminds me of a
bad quarter of an hour once owing to a similar cause. Listen to this:
`The R.M.S. _Rhodesian_, which arrived at Southampton yesterday evening,
reports passing a derelict in latitude 10 degrees 5 minutes north,
longitude 16 degrees 36 minutes West. The hull was a dull rusty red,
and apparently of about 900 or 1000 tons burthen. The vessel was partly
submerged, the forecastle and poop being above water. About eight feet
of iron foremast was standing, and rather more of mizzen-mast, with some
rigging trailing from it. No name was visible, and the hulk, which had
apparently been a long time in the water, was lying dangerously in the
track of steamers to and from the Cape.' I should think so indeed,"
continued Haldane with some warmth. "It was just such a derelict that
scraped past us one black night when I was coming home in the
_Manchurian_ on that very line. It was about midnight, and everybody
had turned in, but the skipper and I were having a parting yarn on the
hurricane deck. We were so close to the thing that the flare of our
lights showed it up barely ten yards from us; then it was gone. I asked
the skipper what would have happened if we'd hit it straight and square,
and he said he was no good at conundrums, but would almost rather have
run full speed on against the face of a cliff."
"I suppose there was great excitement in the morning?" said the Squire.
"Not any; for the simple reason that nobody knew anything about it. The
occurrence was logged, of course, but the skipper asked me not to blab,
and I didn't. Most of the passengers were scary enough over the risks
they knew about, he said, and if you told them a lot more that they
didn't many of them would die."
"They oughtn't to leave a thing like that," said Wagram. "Why didn't
your captain stop and blow it up, Haldane?"
"I asked him, and he said his company didn't contract for hulk-hunting
on dark nights; it contracted to carry Her Majesty's mails. Probably
the skipper of the _Rhodesian_ reasoned in exactly the same way about
this one."
"It's as bad as an infernal machine."
"It _is_ an infernal machine," said Haldane.