THE CHOIR THREATEN TO STRIKE.
It had not taken Rachel long to discover that she had married an untidy
man. Being very tidy and dainty in her ways herself, this discovery was
rather a shock to her. But she came to the conclusion that Luke's mind
was so full of the things that really mattered, that the less important
things were nothing to him though they meant a great deal to her.
Remembering her promise, the morning after she had prepared his study
for him, she had awakened earlier than usual and had gone there the
first thing. She had promised him that she would be responsible for
keeping it in order and that Polly should have nothing to do with it.
On opening the door she stood still and laughed at what she saw.
It looked to her in terrible disorder! Though he tried to convince her
afterwards that there was such a thing as a tidy untidyness. He knew
just where everything was, he said, and could lay his hand upon it.
But to Rachel's eyes disorder reigned.
Because the waste paper basket was not just at hand, he had thrown on
to the floor his many torn up letters. Books were piled on the ground.
His table was strewn with papers: there was scarcely a chair without
some volume of reference on its seat.
Rachel picked up all the torn letters putting them into the waste paper
basket, arranged the books, with a certain amount of trepidation, on
the shelves, and finally lifted up every letter and paper from the
table to dust them, laying them back in exactly the same position as
she found them. She opened the window carefully, anxious lest some of
the papers that strewed the desk should take to themselves wings and
fly away.
It amused her the first morning, she felt that Luke had indeed needed
a study. But the care of the room added to her work and took time as
she had to be so careful not to disturb anything. And in her heart of
hearts she wished that Luke was tidy!
Another thing that troubled her was the fact that on the muddiest days
Luke would run upstairs without wiping his boots. He was always in such
a desperate hurry to get through the numberless letters that awaited
his attention on his study writing table that he would hurriedly hang
up his hat in the hall, and then spring upstairs two steps at a time
and shut himself in. The necessity of rubbing his boots never occurred
to him. His mind was full of important matters, things that had just
taken place, and letters that had to be posted. Then to brush his coat
and hat before going out never crossed his mind. He was always so
hurried, and Rachel supposed that he expected to find everything that
was necessary to be done, done for him.
When the snow came in December she remonstrated with him once about his
boots, and on looking at the marks of his footsteps on the stairs he
was filled with remorse, as he recognised that he had made unnecessary
work for Rachel.
But he forgot it next time, and his wife felt that to remind him again
and again would only worry and fret him. For she recognised that the
work he had to get through was immense and that it was her duty to make
life as easy for him as possible. He worked far too hard, and it seemed
to Rachel that the time he could spend in his own home grew shorter
every month. She was getting used to it, and though at times the winter
evenings felt long to her, and it was somewhat of an effort not to give
way to low spirits, she fought bravely against melancholy, and always
had a smile of welcome for her husband.
She had made a few friends by the winter and now and then Mrs. Stone
would run in with her knitting to spend the evening with her.
Rachel was conscious that Luke by his outspokenness made enemies and
that all was not harmonious in the parish, so it was a comfort to know
that in Mrs. Stone, both she and her husband had a valiant supporter,
and that she would act as peacemaker whenever she had the chance.
It must be confessed, however, that Mrs. Stone liked the role she had
undertaken for she was very fond of giving advice. She had taken a
fancy to Rachel and pitied her. Mrs. Greville, senior, was no favourite
of hers, and though Rachel was far too loyal to talk over her husband's
mother with any parishioner, Mrs. Stone could not but gather sometimes
from silences on Rachel's part, and by what she saw and heard from
others, that Mrs. Greville was deeply disappointed in her son's wife;
and naturally a sensitive girl like Rachel must be aware of the fact.
It was to Mrs. Stone's credit that she kept her views to herself and
discussed no-one belonging to the Vicar with his parishioners.
In the New Year it was quite evident to those who had much to do with
the parish that there had arisen a feeling of discontent among some of
the people, specially among members of the choir, as lately the Public
Hall had been opened on Sunday evenings at 8 o'clock for what was
termed a sacred concert, and the Vicar's long sermons prevented the men
from getting to the Hall before the concert began; consequently as the
place was packed they had to take back seats.
When this came to Mrs. Stone's ears, she wondered if she could not help
matters by giving Rachel a hint as to the way the wind was blowing.
Consequently she went to see her one afternoon. The winter was passed,
and the first flowers had arrived in Rachel's little garden. She
insisted in calling her yard a garden, and had planted wild hyacinths
as well as primroses to remind her of her home in the country. The
hyacinths were beginning to show.
Mrs. Stone found her looking down rather pensively at her few flowers.
On hearing the door open Rachel called her visitor into the garden.
"I am trying to imagine I am in the woods at home," she said laughing.
"By now they must be a sheet of blue. In the distance it looks almost
like a cloud of blue fallen to earth. I can't tell you how lovely it
is."
"How you must miss it," said Mrs. Stone.
"There is compensation in all things," said Rachel gaily. She felt it
would be fatal to give way to the overwhelming longing for home that
these first Spring days were creating in her. She would not for the
world that Mrs. Stone should guess that her whole soul was crying out
for beauty and the sense of companionship.
"But let us come and sit down. These poor little hyacinths can't mean
to you what they mean to me. I'm glad you have brought your knitting."
"Your husband is out this evening is not he?"
"He is really out every night just now," said Rachel. "I hope the
congregation realise that he is spending his life for them, and that
his poor wife sits at home moping. Do you think they appreciate us
properly?" she added.
The question was asked in fun, but behind the words there lay an
anxiety that had arisen lately in Rachel's heart. She had noticed an
almost imperceptible change in the manner of some of the former ardent
admirers of her husband. She had said nothing to Luke about it, as it
was better that he should not be worried over the matter if he had not
noticed it.
"They would be extremely ungrateful if they didn't," said Mrs. Stone.
"I have never met a harder worker than the Vicar. He spends his life
for us all, as you say. And as for you, why I think it is often harder
to sit at home and wait than to be in the thick of the battle. But they
that looked after the stuff in David's time were to share the spoil.
You see you keep him well and cheerful for us. I for one can't feel
grateful enough to you."
"How encouraging!" exclaimed Rachel. "That's the first word of the sort
I have heard here. I was afraid I was considered a mere drone in the
hive."
Mrs. Stone who knew from Mrs. Greville's own words that she did not
consider her daughter-in-law suitable as yet for the work, did not
refer to the subject again, but as she settled down to her knitting
with Rachel beside her, she came to the conclusion that Rachel herself
had given her an opening to do what she considered a difficult duty and
a kindness.
"I can tell you one little matter in which I believe you could be a
great help to your husband. Have you noticed lately that there is a
feeling of dissatisfaction in the parish among some of the men?"
"Yes, and I want so much to know what it is all about. Polly's father
is in the choir and used to be such a nice mannered man. In fact I
often have him in to do little carpentering jobs for me. But lately he
has been rather unpleasant and surly, and I have not liked to tell Luke
as it might make a disturbance."
"Well I can tell you what it is all about if you like."
Rachel let her work drop on to her knee while she listened.
"In the first place, you know, the Vicar says things very plainly. He
calls a spade a spade. I admire and like him for it. But some of the
men are offended at one or two things he said about the strikes that
have lately taken place."
"I'm not surprised. Luke is so brave and fearless. I sometimes wish he
would be a little more careful as to what he says."
"No, don't wish that. It is so much better to talk straight to the men.
They respect him for it though they are annoyed at him."
"If only they knew how really sympathetic he is with them. But he is so
stern sometimes that I am sure they don't understand him. But he loves
his men and would do anything in the world for them."
"That's why he tells them the truth. If he cared for them less and for
his own popularity more, he would not speak to them so plainly. He
wants to save their souls."
"Yes. He is always saying, 'we are out to save souls.' But is there
anything else that they complain of? I am afraid he will never alter
his way of preaching. He will always speak straight, as they say. That
is Luke."
"There is another little matter of which they complain. But I am so
afraid if I tell you it may pain you."
"I would rather know what it is," said Rachel.
"Well then they consider the Vicar preaches too long sermons."
Rachel flushed.
"Too long!" she exclaimed.
"Yes. You see things are not what they used to be, and people will not
stand long sermons. I—I don't think them at all too long myself."
"I thought everyone loved his sermons. I do."
"So do I. But the fact is, the men want to hurry off to the Public Hall
concert, and they are just too late for it."
"How disgraceful of them," said Rachel hotly.
"Of course the concerts ought never to have been allowed. They call
them sacred, but from the programme that is issued every week I see
that this is by no means the fact. My husband is very vexed that the
Town Council gave way about it."
"I can't possibly ask Luke to shorten his sermons," said Rachel.
"Can't you? I just wondered if you could not Influence him in the
matter. I disapprove of these concerts as much as anyone, but I feel it
is such a terrible pity if just for want of a hint the men should leave
the Church altogether. You see they have written several anonymous
letters of which the Vicar has taken no notice."
"Anonymous letters! Luke never told me. How mean of them."
"I dislike anonymous letters intensely. But what makes the matter so
important is that I heard a rumour that the choir would leave en bloc
unless their request was attended to."
"How despicable of them. I hope, I sincerely hope that Luke won't cut
his sermons short by one sentence. Of course he won't. Besides I shan't
tell him."
"But, my dear, he will soon find out if his choir desert him."
"They surely won't do that?"
"I am afraid they will."
Rachel was silent. She knew how bitterly grieved Luke would be at such
conduct. He loved the men of his choir.
"I can't think what is to be done," she said anxiously.
"Why not give him a hint?"
"I could never give Luke a hint. No, I must tell him out right if it
has to be done. But it will pain him dreadfully; and to happen just now
when he is so pressed with work."
"I am so sorry about it," said Mrs. Stone; and as she left she wondered
if she had acted wisely by talking over the difficulty with Rachel.
It might have been better to have told Mrs. Greville senior. However,
she remembered the threat of the men of the choir to leave en bloc,
and she felt that to be taken by surprise in that way would probably
have caused more pain both to Rachel and her husband than if they were
prepared for what might happen.
When Luke came in tired and a little depressed about a meeting at which
he had been, Rachel was silent about Mrs. Stone's information. She felt
it would be cruel to tell her husband what she had heard when he was so
played out. Neither did he give her any information as to the cause of
his depression. He buried himself in a book till eleven o'clock, when
Rachel went to bed. Then he arose and made his way into his study.
But the next morning Rachel noticed that at breakfast he was in good
spirits so she ventured to speak of what was on her mind.
But she need not have feared to break the news to Luke. Apparently it
was no news to him. He had read the first anonymous letter through but
had thrown the others into the fire. So he knew what they were about.
Rachel was greatly relieved.
"What shall you do Luke?" she asked.
He looked up at her across the table with a smile.
"What do you expect me to do?"
"To make no difference whatever in the length of your sermon," she
answered. "But do you realise that one Sunday you may find yourself
without a choir?"
"Perfectly. But a choir is not absolutely necessary. We can do without
one."
"And you mean to make no difference in your sermons?"
"In order that the men may run off to a concert! No, certainly not. I
disapprove of those concerts and shall not make it easy for them to
attend."
"I wonder if you are quite wise," said Rachel.
Luke laughed.
"Would you like me to give way?" he asked. He knew what her answer
would be.
"No, no, no." she said, "I am so very thankful that you are not weak,
and yet I can't bear that your choir should desert you."
"Worse things might happen," he said, and he passed into the hall and
was out of the house before she knew he was going.
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