NO LADY HEAD OF THE PARISH.
And now began a very strenuous life for Rachel.
Mrs. Greville had been as good as a curate to Luke; and she was now
laid aside unable to do any work at all. She lay thinking and worrying
over the fact that she was no longer any good to her son. The worry
did not help her to recover from her illness. In fact the doctor
told Rachel that so long as her husband's mother allowed herself to
be consumed with anxiety she could not hope to get strong. Was there
no-one, he asked, who could help in the matter? Surely there were some
ladies in the parish who could divide the work between them?
Rachel knew that no more workers were to be had. In fact several had
given up their districts. They so entirely disagreed with the Vicar in
his determination not to allow the parish hall to be used for whist
drives and dancing, that they felt out of sympathy with him, and had
left the Church.
Those who remained were already too full of work to undertake anything
further.
Luke came home from seeing his mother one day, in the depths of despair.
"She is worrying herself to death," he said, "over the Mother's Meeting
and the Sunday School." Then he looked across at his wife, who was
playing "Dickory, dickory dock!" with the baby. Her face had been full
of love and happiness, but at his words the smile faded. She knew what
was coming.
"I suppose," he said, then he hesitated.
"Well?" asked Rachel.
"I suppose you couldn't manage to take my mother's place?"
"To superintend the Sunday School and the Mother's Meeting?"
"Yes. It would lift such a burden off her heart. You see she is one
of those people who worry unnecessarily, and I can't tell you what a
relief it would be to me to be able to tell her that her place has been
supplied."
"I don't quite see how I can, with baby," said Rachel.
"But there is Polly. She likes looking after him."
"Dickory, dickory, dock," sang Rachel again, "the mouse ran up the
clock." But while playing she was not only thinking of the anxiety
which would be hers if she had to leave baby constantly under Polly's
care; but she was wondering if her own health would stand it. She must
keep well for Luke's sake as well as for baby's, and lately she had
felt sometimes at the end of her tether. She had already undertaken a
district of her own and various other duties, and what with the cooking
and the house, not to mention all the work that little Pat entailed,
she had felt that if she did not soon have a rest she would break down
altogether. Yet here was Luke, looking at her with his anxious pleading
eyes; and she had never failed him yet, how could she fail him now?
"Dickory, dickory, dock," sang Rachel as she ran her fingers up Pat's
little arm:
"The mouse ran up the clock,
The clock struck one,
Down the mouse ran,
Dickory, dickory, dock."
Baby crowed with merriment, and Rachel looked up gravely at her husband.
"I'll see what I can do," she said quietly.
Luke's face beamed.
"Thank you dearest," he said. "I'll go round at once and relieve
mother's mind."
Rachel sighed as she heard the front door close after him.
She looked down gravely at the child in her arms.
"I wonder if I have done right," she thought. "Anyhow my little baby
I won't neglect you for any number of Mothers' Meetings or Sunday
Schools. You and Daddie must come first."
Then she sang again—
"The mouse ran up the clock,
The clock struck one,
Down the mouse ran,
Dickory, dickory, dock."
"Ah! Me! The life of a clergyman's wife is difficult," she sighed.
And besides all the work and care, poverty stared her in the face. She
could not help fancying that Luke's great coat was turning green; and
that he was growing thin, notwithstanding all her efforts to provide
him with nourishing food. That he was unconscious of it himself she
felt sure.
He was quite unconscious also of the necessity of not giving
away money unnecessarily. Generous by nature, people had soon found it
out, and he could not resist giving when asked. Now that his mother was
no longer able to give him advice in the matter, and to restrain the
impulse which was so strong in him, and which was a beautiful trait
in his character so long as he did not allow it to interfere with his
duties as a husband and father, he had been freer than usual with his
money. He had no idea that such was their poverty that Rachel who now
had taken upon herself to keep the accounts, and to pay the bills, went
without nourishing food, in order that there might be enough for him
and his little son.
He never noticed that when he had meat for his dinner Rachel ate bread
and cheese, and that the various dishes that she invented to help to
give him a good appetite she did not share with him. Now and then she
laughed to herself to see how extraordinarily oblivious he was as to
what was going on around him. She was thankful that he never noticed
that she looked tired, and was growing thin. It would only have added
to his anxiety. But she hoped she would not break down, for his sake
and the baby's.
And now this fresh work had come upon her. It was not even as if she
had been trained up to it. If only they had let her begin when she was
stronger, it would have been easier.
A few days after she had given the promise to Luke, Mrs. Stone called.
Rachel had rather begun to dread her calls, for though she was always
loyal to Luke, and had more than once proved herself to be a good
friend, if there was any complaint to be made by the parishioners, Mrs.
Stone was always the one to be asked to make it known to the Vicar and
his wife. People knew that she was on intimate terms with them, and
felt that she was the best person to plead their cause. By now Rachel
had become conscious of this, and as Mrs. Stone sat down and began to
enquire about Mrs. Greville and to ask after the baby, Luke's wife felt
confident from the rather uneasy expression of her face, that the real
cause of her call was yet to be made known.
It was not long before she learnt what it was. "I want to know," said
Mrs. Stone as she rose to go, "if it would be possible for you to come
more regularly to the working party?"
"I am almost afraid I really can't manage that," said Rachel. "I have
about as much as I can do."
"Well you won't mind me having asked you, I know," said Mrs. Stone. "I
thought it was only kind to let you know that people are complaining a
little."
"Complaining of what?" said Rachel rather sharply.
"I don't like to hurt you. But they say that now Mrs. Greville is laid
aside there seems no lady head of the parish. I think that it would do
a lot of good if you could just manage that monthly engagement. Even if
you only came for an hour."
"I wonder how many of those people realise what it is to have an
incompetent servant and a baby to look after," said Rachel. She felt
indignant. "I was not engaged to act the part of a curate. When I
married I promised to love, cherish, and obey my husband. I didn't
promise to do all the parish work that other women ought to be doing."
Mrs. Stone had never seen Rachel anything but calm and bright: and was
much distressed at the result of her advice.
"My dear, I am so sorry to have pained you," she said. "Of course we
ought not to expect the impossible from you."
Rachel, overwrought and very remorseful, burst into tears.
"I ought not to have said that. I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "Only just
now I feel as if I couldn't do a thing more. Please forget it. The
fact is," she added, "I have to say a dozen times a day, 'Lord I am
oppressed. Undertake for me.' But it was very very wrong of me. I will
certainly come if I possibly can. Of course for Luke's sake I ought not
let it be said that there is no head of the parish, and I really love
that kind of work."
Mrs. Stone went home flushed and distressed. She saw that Rachel was
just on the verge of a breakdown, and blamed herself for not doing more
to take the heavy burden of the parish off her shoulders.
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