“How tired you must be, Fred, after four hours' begging in offices! I'll
bring you a cup of tea in the study at once, and then you are to have a
nice little dinner all to yourself.
“Oh, no, I've not been extravagant at all, and I've not taken any money
out of our alms-box, and I'm not a wicked parson's wife who gets into
debt; but a hamper came from the country, with lots of good things in
it, and you will have the chicken; the children and I simply rioted in
plenty to-day. Now, I'll not hear a word about your expedition until you
have had some food.”
“There, I feel a perfect glutton, Ethel. I hope you have sent some of
the h-hamper to the sick.”
“I've done nothing of the kind; every single bit is to be eaten in this
Vicarage of St Ambrose; you would starve yourself and your family for
the parish, and I am sure you are the hardest working man in it. Well,
have you got the money to furnish the playground of St Ambrose's?”
“Do you mean have I come home with £54 in my pocket as the result of
one r-raid by a poor, dull, s-stammering parson, who couldn't make an
eloquent appeal to save his life?”
“You don't stammer, Fred, and I wish you wouldn't say such things; you
may... hesitate at a time, and I am sure any one would give you money
for a good cause, because you are... so sincere and...”
“That will do, Ethel; it's a great h-help to an obscure parson in the
poorest of parishes to have a wife who believes in him, and makes four
hundred pounds out of two.”
“And now about the money. Was the asking hard?”
“It might have been, but every one was so j-jolly. The first man I went
to was Mr. Welsby, and as soon as I came into his room he cried out,
'Was just thinking of you: I hope you're on the w-warpath for that
playground, for I've a five-pound note ready for you.'
“He sent me on to a cotton b-broker, and he thanked me several times
for coming on such a good errand, and backed up Welsby with five pounds.
Every person had a kind word, and by five o'clock I had...
“The whole sum?”
“With six p-pounds over, which will get a little sheltered seat for old
people. How good those city fellows are when they fancy a cause.”
“And when they fancy the man who pleads it, Fred. Did you not get one
refusal?”
“Well, I was h-hurt by one man, who treated me rather shabbily. He
allowed me to explain the whole scheme--swings, sand-heaps, seats and
all--and he asked me a hundred questions about the parish and my work,
till I think he knew as much about the place as we do ourselves, and
then sent me off without a penny--said he didn't give to subscriptions
on p-principle.”
“What a mean, hypocritical wretch!”
“I left rather down, for I had lost h-half an hour with him, and I was
afraid I had offended him by some remark, but when I met Welsby again in
the street and told him, he declared that I ought not to have been sent
there, because D-Dodson--that's his name--was the most inquisitive and
hardest man on 'Change.”
“He can't be a gentleman, at any rate, to question you for mere
curiosity; I hope you gave him something to think over.”
“No, I didn't; it's no use, and only frets oneself. He had a big
c-chance and lost it What do you say to inviting the subscribers down
some evening when the playground is in full occupation? They will get
full value for their money at the sight of the girls on the swings, and
the boys at ball, and the b-babies scooping up the sand, and the old
folks sunning themselves on their seats.”
“It will be splendid; but Fred, it goes to my heart that our own boys
can have no holiday, and when their schoolfellows are away in Wales,
will be sweltering in this close house.”
“How much have we in the h-holiday fund?”
“Just two pounds and sixpence. Save as I would, that is all I could
manage... If we had not given so much away we might...”
“You are just as r-ready to give as I am, my little wife, and none of us
regret anything we've done for the poor souls around us; but I'm sorry
for the boys. Did you tell them?”
“No, I hadn't the heart, so I played the coward and said you were
thinking the matter over, and that you would tell them, perhaps,
to-morrow morning.”
“Do you know I rather s-suspected this would be the end of it, and I
was planning how to make the best of things. I made up a series of cheap
trips, personally conducted, to New Brighton, and Cheshire, and Hale;
you'll give us our l-lunch, and we'll have a regular picnic. I have some
old knick-knacks of my schooldays at Shrewsbury, and I'll offer them as
p-prizes for the best account of the day. You'll come with us, too, and
we'll have a particularly jolly time.
“Letters? The post is late to-night That is about the c-contract for
swings, and this is a diocesan circular, and there is a new company
p-prospectus--rather an irony sending it to me--but here are two unknown
hands; let us see the news.
“Now isn't this good? £3 for the playground from a Dissenter who
c-complains I didn't call on him, and has a kind word about my hard
work, as he calls it; and I've been often annoyed at that man for the
things he said on Disestablishment. He may say anything he pleases now
on a platform; I know there is a kind heart behind the words.
“Will this be more money for the s-swings? Hurrah! here is an enclosure
of some sort But what is this...?”
“What's wrong, Fred? Is any one dead? Are you ill...?”
“Ethel, you are an excellent m-manager.”' The Vicar, very white as to
his cheeks, and somewhat wet as to his eyes, stood on the hearthrug and
waved his wife to a distance. “Be g-good enough to secure a commodious
farmhouse in North Wales, somewhere between Bettws-y-Coed and Llanberis,
for the month of August--with a little f-fishing attached, if possible.
“Please sit down, Ethel, and don't interrupt. I'm sane, quite sane; much
p-playground and domestic affliction have not made me mad. Now, where
was I? Yes, and arrange quite a s-series of tours round by Festiniog,
and up Snowdon, and down to Llandudno, and another to the Menai
Straits....
“You are an extravagant, d-dressy woman, Ethel, so you may get a
n-natty walking dress and three blouses, but keep a trifle for f-fishing
apparatus and special provisions... you are t-throttling me... then read
it yourself, read it aloud, and... I will p-process round the table. I
wish the boys had not gone to bed.”
“'Liverpool, _July_ 16, 189--.
“'Reverend and Dear Sir,--It has come to my knowledge from various
quarters that you and your devoted partner in life are doing a most
beneficent work, both sacred and secular, in a very necessitous district
of our great city, and that you are discharging this duty to your
fellow-creatures at severe cost to yourselves and your family.
“'My observation of life leads me to believe that none of our citizens
live harder lives, or make greater sacrifices, than clergymen of limited
means whose sphere of labour lies in poor parishes, and, without being
in any sense a good man--for my whole life is a struggle with one
besetting sin, which often getteth the victory--I have been filled
with respectful admiration, and have wished to assist, after a humble
fashion, in this Christian service.
“'As you may have some difficulty in securing a suitable holiday for
your family through your notorious charity--for such is the report
concerning you--I venture with much diffidence to enclose a draft
on London, which can be cashed at any bank, for your use, under two
conditions, which I must charge you to observe: (i) that the whole
sum be employed to the last penny in holiday expenses--including such
special outfit as may be judged fit by your wife for you all; and (2)
that you make no effort to discover the name of your unworthy friend.
The endorsement of this draft will be sufficient acknowledgment.
“'Trusting you will all have a health-giving, happy, and long holiday,
“'I have the honour to be,
“'Your humble servant,
“'Zaccheus'”
“Your voice is a little shaky, Ethel... don't wonder... such nonsense
about me and such c-compliments to you... yes, it will be g-glorious,
another honeymoon, and those rascals of boys, why won't they... Let us
thank God, wife; it came from Him....”