_I'm a jolly sort of boy, tol, lol,_
_And I don't care a damn who knows it._
_I'm fond of every joy, tol, lol,_
_As you may very well suppose it._
_Tol, lol, lol,_
_Tol, lol, lol._
Then the audience, the audience of a cathedral city, as Mr Gray said,
took up the refrain,--
_Tol, lol, lol,_
_Tol, lol, lol._
However, the piece went on to the bitter end, and Dick Whittington
appeared in many different costumes and sang many songs, and kicked many
kicks, till he was finally made Lord Mayor--in tights.
Ah, it was an evening of bitter humiliation for Blackstable people. Some
of them, as Miss Reed said, behaved scandalously; they really appeared
to enjoy it. And even George laughed at some of the jokes the cat made,
though his wife and his mother sternly reproved him.
'I'm ashamed of you, George, laughing at such a time!' they said.
Afterwards the Grays and Miss Reed got into the same railway carriage
with the Griffiths.
'Well, Mrs Griffith,' said the vicar's wife, 'what do you think of your
daughter now?'
'Mrs Gray,' replied Mrs Griffith, solemnly, 'I haven't got a daughter.'
'That's a very proper spirit in which to look at it,' answered the
lady.... 'She was simply covered with diamonds.'
'They must be worth a fortune,' said Miss Reed.
'Oh, I daresay they're not real,' said Mrs Gray; 'at that distance and
with the lime-light, you know, it's very difficult to tell.'
'I'm sorry to say,' said Mrs Griffith, with some asperity, feeling the
doubt almost an affront to her--'I'm sorry to say that I _know_ they're
real.'
The ladies coughed discreetly, scenting a little scandalous mystery
which they must get out of Mrs Griffith at another opportunity.
'My nephew James says she earns at least thirty or forty pounds a week.'
Miss Reed sighed at the thought of such depravity.
'It's very sad,' she remarked, 'to think of such things happening to a
fellow-creature.'...
* * * * *
'But what I can't understand,' said Mrs Gray, next morning, at the
breakfast-table, 'is how she got into such a position. We all know that
at one time she was to be seen in--well, in a very questionable place,
at an hour which left no doubt about her--her means of livelihood. I
must say I thought she was quite lost.'...
'Oh, well, I can tell you that easily enough,' replied her nephew.
'She's being kept by Sir Somebody Something, and he's running the show
for her.'
'James, I wish you would be more careful about your language. It's not
necessary to call a spade a spade, and you can surely find a less
objectionable expression to explain the relationship between the
persons.... Don't you remember his name?'
'No; I heard it, but I've really forgotten.'
'I see in this week's _Tercanbury Times_ that there's a Sir Herbert
Ously-Farrowham staying at the "George" just now.'
'That's it. Sir Herbert Ously-Farrowham.'
'How sad! I'll look him out in Burke.'
She took down the reference book, which was kept beside the clergy list.
'Dear me, he's only twenty-nine.... And he's got a house in Cavendish
Square and a house in the country. He must be very well-to-do; and he
belongs to the Junior Carlton and two other clubs.... And he's got a
sister who's married to Lord Edward Lake.' Mrs Gray closed the book and
held it with a finger to mark the place, like a Bible. 'It's very sad to
think of the dissipation of so many members of the aristocracy. It sets
such a bad example to the lower classes.'
X
They showed old Griffith a portrait of Daisy in her theatrical costume.
'Has she come to that?' he said.
He looked at it a moment, then savagely tore it in pieces and flung it
in the fire.
'Oh, my God!' he groaned; he could not get out of his head the picture,
the shamelessness of the costume, the smile, the evident prosperity and
content. He felt now that he had lost his daughter indeed. All these
years he had kept his heart open to her, and his heart had bled when he
thought of her starving, ragged, perhaps dead. He had thought of her
begging her bread and working her beautiful hands to the bone in some
factory. He had always hoped that some day she could return to him,
purified by the fire of suffering.... But she was prosperous and happy
and rich. She was applauded, worshipped; the papers were full of her
praise. Old Griffith was filled with a feeling of horror, of immense
repulsion. She was flourishing in her sin, and he loathed her. He had
been so ready to forgive her when he thought her despairing and
unhappy; but now he was implacable.
* * * * *
Three months later Mrs Griffith came to her husband, trembling with
excitement, and handed him a cutting from a paper,--
'_We hear that Miss Daisy Griffith, who earned golden opinions in
the provinces last winter with her Dick Whittington, is about to be
married to Sir Herbert Ously-Farrowham. Her friends, and their name
is legion, will join with us in the heartiest congratulations._'
He returned the paper without answering.
'Well?' asked his wife.
'It is nothing to me. I don't know either of the parties mentioned.'
At that moment there was a knock at the door, and Mrs Gray and Miss Reed
entered, having met on the doorstep. Mrs Griffith at once regained her
self-possession.
'Have you heard the news, Mrs Griffith?' said Miss Reed.
'D'you mean about the marriage of Sir Herbert Ously-Farrowham?' She
mouthed the long name.
'Yes,' replied the two ladies together.
'It is nothing to me.... I have no daughter, Mrs Gray.'
'I'm sorry to hear you say that, Mrs Griffith,' said Mrs Gray very
stiffly. 'I think you show a most unforgiving spirit.'
'Yes,' said Miss Reed; 'I can't help thinking that if you'd treated poor
Daisy in a--well, in a more _Christian_ way, you might have saved her
from a great deal.'
'Yes,' added Mrs Gray. 'I must say that all through I don't think you've
shown a nice spirit at all. I remember poor, dear Daisy quite well, and
she had a very sweet character. And I'm sure that if she'd been treated
a little more gently, nothing of all this would have happened.'
Mrs Gray and Miss Reed looked at Mrs Griffith sternly and reproachfully;
they felt themselves like God Almighty judging a miserable sinner. Mrs
Griffith was extremely angry; she felt that she was being blamed most
unjustly, and, moreover, she was not used to being blamed.
'I'm sure you're very kind, Mrs Gray and Miss Reed, but I must take the
liberty of saying that I know best what my daughter was.'
'Mrs Griffith, all I say is this--you are not a good mother.'
'Excuse me, madam.'... said Mrs Griffith, having grown red with anger;
but Mrs Gray interrupted.
'I am truly sorry to have to say it to one of my parishioners, but you
are not a good Christian. And we all know that your husband's business
isn't going at all well, and I think it's a judgment of Providence.'
'Very well, ma'am,' said Mrs Griffith, getting up. 'You're at liberty to
think what you please, but I shall not come to church again. Mr Friend,
the Baptist minister, has asked me to go to his chapel, and I'm sure he
won't treat me like that.'
'I'm sure we don't want you to come to church in that spirit, Mrs
Griffith. That's not the spirit with which you can please God, Mrs
Griffith. I can quite imagine now why dear Daisy ran away. You're no
Christian.'
'I'm sure I don't care what you think, Mrs Gray, but I'm as good as you
are.'
'Will you open the door for me, Mrs Griffith?' said Mrs Gray, with
outraged dignity.
'Oh, you can open it yourself, Mrs Gray!' replied Mrs Griffith.