taking him past Robert's cottage, helooked in to inquire for Mrs Robert, who had been much troubled of latewith mysterious pains which attacked equally mysterious parts of heranatomy. To listen to Hannah's diagnosis of her complaints was towonder how anyone who suffered so distressingly could continue to live,and to remain on the whole fairly active. The vicar, being accustomedto this exaggerated description of the minor ills of the flesh, was ableto be sympathetic, and not unduly pessimistic in regard to the patient'sultimate recovery. But this morning Hannah, having received a letterfrom her son, was less concerned with her ailments than with the epistleof Robert the younger, who, after two pages devoted to personal andintimate matters, had sent a filial exhortation to his father, in whichhe recommended for the latter's careful study the sixteenth verse of thesixteenth chapter according to Saint Mark.
Robert the elder had insisted upon Hannah hunting up that particularverse in the Bible which stood in the front window, where the vicar'seye, and the eye of the district visitor, could not fail to light uponit. The vicar's eye had become so familiarised with this object, whichlooked as though it had never been displaced since first it had been putthere, that he had formed a very fair estimate of its accepted value inthe household. Mr Errol held no illusions concerning the piety ofRobert and his wife.
Hannah, nothing loth, had found the text, and read it aloud to Robert,whose wrathful disgust had caused her quite pleasantly to forget herpains for the time. There stood the words in relentless black andwhite: "He that believeth and is baptised shall be saved; but he thatbelieveth not shall be damned."
Hannah performed the supererogatory task of reading the text aloud tothe vicar, who endeavoured while he listened to conceal the smile thatfound its way to his lips.
"And what has Robert to say to that?" he asked.
Robert had had a good deal to say, but his wife did not feel itnecessary to quote him verbatim.
"Robert's mad," she answered. "He says he'll learn 'im. But Bob's agood boy, sir, and terrible clever."
"He certainly possesses a strong sense of responsibility," the vicarallowed.
When later Mr Errol saw Robert, he was reminded of young Robert'smessage by the dour look on his old sexton's face. His expression ofwrathful indignation did not convey the suggestion that the seed of hisson's counsel had fallen upon fruitful ground. Robert not only lookedupset, he was most unusually taciturn. When he heard that the vicar hadbeen to his cottage that morning he merely grunted. The grunt wasexpressive of many emotions, the most eloquent of which was unspeakabledisgust. At the same time the consciousness of certain coins concealedbeneath the altar cloth in the church caused Robert to lower his gazebefore his vicar's eyes.
"So Hannah has heard from Bob," the vicar observed pleasantly. "Bobseems to fear you are in considerable danger, Robert."
"'E'll be in considerable danger if 'e comes 'ome before I've 'ad timeto cool," answered Robert grimly. He eyed his horny hand and the wristmuscles, developed like taut leather through long usage with the spade,and smiled darkly. "Reckon I didn' let in to en enough when 'e were ayoungster," he remarked regretfully. "I only wish 'e were young enoughfor me to start in again. But I'm more'n 'is match now. Learn 'isfather, will 'e? Us'll see. Thinks 'e knows a sight more'n I do,because 'e's got a few textes in 'is 'ead. 'Tis about all 'e 'as gotthere. Proud, 'e is, because 'e reads 'is Bible, which 'e 'lows otherfolk don't. Neither they does; but no more didn't 'e before 'e took upwi' preaching."
"Oh, come, Robert," remonstrated the vicar, smiling. "Plenty of peopleread their Bibles, even in Moresby."
"Plenty of people 'as Bibles," Robert replied darkly. "Keeps 'em forshow, they do. I knows. Folks don't read their Bibles nowadays."
Robert spoke of the Bible as though it were a relic of prehistoric timeswhich, being a respectable relic, and one the possession of whichbrought the owner occasional benefits from those in spiritual authority,was therefore worthy of a place even in the front window; but as a bookfor practical use, the idea was simply a pose.
"Indeed," the vicar insisted, "I know one or two in the parish who readtheir Bibles consistently. I have gone in at times and found themreading it."
Robert eyed the speaker with a gleam in his eyes that suggestedaffectionate patronage, and a half-contemptuous commiseration for suchblind credulity.
"They seed you coming, sir," he said, with a shake of the head at thedepths to which human duplicity will go.
The vicar gazed seriously into the quaint, sincere face of his sexton.
"Don't you ever read your Bible, Robert?" he asked gravely.
"No, sir. Never 'ear aught of it 'cept wot you reads out in church,"Robert replied with disconcerting candour.
The Rev Walter Errol turned away abruptly to conceal from theobservant eyes regarding him whatever emotion moved him at the outspokensincerity of this man, who had worked under him for many years in theservice of the church. An honest heart is a worthy possession, andtruth, no matter what laxity it reveals, is preferable to deceit.
CHAPTER NINE.
The weeks came and passed, and the work at the Hall continued withunabated energy. Early in November everything was in readiness for theoccupation of the new tenants; and with the departure of the workmen theservants arrived at the Hall, and were speedily followed by Mr and MrsChadwick and the pekinese.
John Musgrave, with punctilious politeness, paid his call within theweek, and was admitted and ushered into the drawing-room by aresponsible-looking young woman in a neat uniform, who was, Mr Musgravesupposed, Mrs Chadwick's butler.
Mrs Chadwick, beautifully gowned, rose at his entry to receive him; avery gracious hostess, having discarded her air of bantering satire,which had so often incensed Mr Musgrave, for the easy cordiality of thewoman of the world, bent on being agreeable in her own home; bent, too,on maintaining an attitude of sympathetic patience towards theidiosyncrasies of other people. John Musgrave considered her for thefirst time without reservation a very charming woman. Mr Chadwick, whohad a greater right than anyone else to set himself up as an authorityon this subject, had never considered her anything else.
Mr Chadwick was present on the occasion of John Musgrave's call. Hewas a big man of indolent appearance, who preferred rather to listenthan to talk, but who, when he offered an opinion, commanded naturallythe respectful attention of his hearers. One felt that the manpossessed a mind of his own. Although most people pride themselves onthis possession, it is not given to every one to secure its recognitionby others. It is usually the case that the people who insist most uponthis recognition are the people who do not receive it. John Musgrave,although he had met Mr Chadwick before, had very little knowledge ofthe man. It surprised him now to discover in him a man he could likeand feel at home with. He had been prepared for something quitedifferent. It had even occurred to him that no man of any intelligencecould take second place and allow his wife to usurp his privileges ashead of the house; but when he talked with Mr Chadwick he found itnecessary to modify his views to the extent of admitting that inexceptional circumstances a clever man might do this without thesacrifice of his dignity. Will Chadwick would have solved the question,had Mr Musgrave put it to him, by explaining that he regarded theindividual, irrespective of sex, as being under the obligation offilling the place he or she is most fitted to fill. It was not a matterof privilege, in his opinion, but of capacity; and he never botheredabout sex problems. His wife and he were companions and not rivals intheir domestic relations.
When Mr Musgrave left--and he was less conventional in timing hisdeparture than he had been in the selection of the hour and date of hiscall--he carried with him a very pleasant picture of the perfectlyorganised and harmonious home of cultured and agreeable people. Therewas a good deal, after all, to be said in favour of English home-life.It was regrettable that home-life was going out of fashion.
As he walked down the broad gravelled drive Mr Musgrave pondered deeplyover these matters. He glanced about him upon the beautiful
woodedlands surrounding the Hall, and thought how many old English homes ofequal dignity were passing into the hands of wealthy strangers becausetheir owners preferred to live in moderate comfort abroad to clinging totheir birthright and all it symbolised in defiance of a meagre purse.The privilege conferred by birth, and the dignity of ancient things,were fetishes with Mr Musgrave, to whom poverty in a good old Englishhome would have been preferable to the easy freedom of continental life.This was one of John Musgrave's many old-fashioned ideas; andold-fashioned ideas are occasionally worthy to stand beside andsometimes even in advance of the modern trend of thought.
While thinking of these things Mr Musgrave was suddenly brought face toface with something so essentially modern that, prepared as he was forsurprises in Mrs Chadwick's household, he was nevertheless takencompletely aback. The first intimation of this extreme modernity rushedupon him disconcertingly, after the manner of a noisy herald preparingthe way for some one of importance, in the shape of a very ugly andextraordinarily fierce-looking bull-dog. The bull-dog sprang out uponhim from behind a wall and growled ferociously, showing his teeth, whichis the custom of the well-bred bull, who cannot conceal them, as MrMusgrave knew. Mr Musgrave, who disliked dogs, was nevertheless not soutterly foolish as to raise his stick, or otherwise show the alarm hefelt; but he was very greatly relieved when a sharp, clear whistlecalled the bull-dog off and assured him that some one, who seemingly hadauthority, was at hand for his protection. Then it was that, looking upto trace the whistle to its source, he was confronted with the mostastonishing sight he had ever beheld.
Against the wall a long ladder leaned, and standing at the top of theladder doing something apparently to a climbing rose-bush--or, to beexact, not doing anything to the climbing rose-bush at that moment, butlooking down at himself--was a young woman. For a second John Musgravethought it was a boy; during the next second it dawned upon his startledintelligence that this was no boy, but an exceedingly well-grown youngwoman--a young woman in male attire; that is to say, while the upperpart of her was clothed in quite feminine fashion, the lower half--JohnMusgrave blushed as he grasped the horrible reality--was garbed in aman's overalls, a serviceable pair of loose-fitting blue trousers,buckled in at the waist with a workmanlike belt, in which was thrustpruning-knife, hammer, and other things necessary to a gardener at thetop of a long ladder with no mate at the foot.
"It is all right; he is quite gentle," the girl called down the ladderreassuringly to the astonished, upturned face of Mr Musgrave.
She was, Mr Musgrave could not fail to observe, a very pretty girl, andshe looked unquestionably well in the immodest get-up. Her hair, whichwas uncovered, was brown, and broke into curls at her temples; and apair of smiling, darkly grey eyes gazed down at him amiably, with sereneindifference to her embarrassing attire. Mr Musgrave imagined thismale attire must be even more embarrassing to its wearer than it was tohim to behold, in which he was quite mistaken. The girl was beautifullyunconscious of anything in her appearance to attract comment. She woretrousers for use; and the serviceability of a thing explains andjustifies its existence.
Since the person who addressed him was a woman, natural instinctsuggested to Mr Musgrave the raising of his hat; but the sight of thoseobjectionable overalls decided him that the courtesy was uncalled for;then, meeting the grey eyes fully, natural instinct prevailed with him.
The top of a ladder is not a comfortable place for social amenities, andthe young person in the overalls had a long nail between her lips, whichshe had removed in order to call out her reassurance and had sincereplaced; she inclined her head nevertheless.
"That Moresby," murmured the owner of the grey eyes, as they followedMr Musgrave's retreat. "Moresby does not like two-legged females; itprefers the skirt, and cherishes the fond delusion that the feet areattached quite decorously somewhere to the hem."
Then she returned to her work, and dismissed Mr Musgrave from herthoughts. The head gardener at the Hall had something else to dobesides occupying her mind with idle speculations.
Mr Musgrave passed out through the lodge gates feeling inexpressiblyshocked. He knew, because she herself had told him when unfolding someof her schemes, that it was Mrs Chadwick's practice to employ femalelabour whenever possible. In that respect, although it was unusual--forwhich reason alone it did not appeal to him as desirable--she was, heallowed, experimenting in a perfectly legitimate manner; but he couldnot see the necessity for the substitution of male attire. Because ayoung woman was employed in an unwomanly capacity it was no argumentthat she should further unsex herself by encroaching on the right of manto this very proper assertion of being, as the young woman would haveexpressed it, a biped. But Mr Musgrave in his very natural prejudiceoverlooked two essential points: that clothes in the first instance areworn for decency and comfort; and that the fashion of them has beendecided with regard to utility and convenience, rather than theimportant question of sex. Plainly a skirt is neither useful norconvenient for climbing ladders in; it is also highly dangerous. MrMusgrave might have argued: why climb ladders? To which the grey-eyedgirl would have replied: because thereby she could earn a living in aperfectly honest and agreeable manner by following the occupation whichmost interested her, and in which she was undoubtedly skilled. Also theclimbing of ladders is quite as simple to many women as it is to theaverage man. It is a matter of balance. Some people enjoy climbing,just as others prefer going down-hill, and the more equable natures,like Mr Musgrave, have a predilection for a flat road.
But--Mr Musgrave blushed again as he recalled a mental picture of thegirl in the overalls--she was such a pretty girl. She looked the kindof girl one places instinctively in a refined home, engaged in theladylike occupation of painting flowers on satin, or working at plainsewing for the poor. Mr Musgrave's idea of a suitable setting wouldnot have raised a pang of regret in the contented breast of the headgardener. She would not have vacated her position at the top of theladder for the most elegant drawing-room, nor have relinquished herpruning-scissors in favour of the daintiest satin-work in the world.She, like Mr Chadwick, believed in the individual doing what she wasbest fitted to do. And gardening was her "job."
It is a noteworthy fact that had the head gardener been plain andmiddle-aged her unsuitable occupation and unseemly attire would not haveworried John Musgrave to the extent that it did. He would havedismissed the matter from his thoughts as simply objectionable, andtherefore not to be dwelt on; but the youth of this girl and the beautyof her aroused his sympathies. The clear grey eyes were responsible forthis. Chivalry in the male breast, even when that, breast belongs to amiddle-aged bachelor, is an emotion which, contrary to all rightprinciples, responds most readily to the curve of young lips and thecall to laughter from bright eyes.
CHAPTER TEN.
The residents of Moresby--by which is usually understood not the bulk ofthe community, but that select portion which gathers in thedrawing-rooms and about the tables of its social equals--were moved to amild and almost pained surprise at being hospitably bidden to dine atthe Hall within a month of the Chadwicks' arrival. This was, Moresbyrecognised with chill ingratitude, a grave breach of social etiquette.Plainly it was the duty of Moresby to show hospitality to the new-comersand then accept in return whatever the Hall saw fit to offer inacknowledgment of its welcome.
But Mrs Chadwick, who needed no precedent in anything she wished to do,was not prepared to wait on Moresby hospitality, which, she rightlyguessed, would be slow in asserting itself. She wanted to gather hernew neighbours together, and she did not mind in the least whether or nothey invited her back to their houses. As soon, therefore, as they hadcalled and she had returned the calls, she asked them to dine; anddespite the general feeling of perturbed wonder which this unexpectedinvitation occasioned, no one--their numbers were but four, becauseMoresby had its limitations--declined.
Thus it came about that on a certain cold December night John Musgraveforegathered with his neighbours and one or two people fro
m Rushleigh inthe great drawing-room at the Hall, where, as a young man in the oldsquire's time, he had been wont to attend functions of a similar nature,more formal and dull perhaps, as suited the day and prestige of theentertainer, but certainly not more splendid nor more kindly in tone.
It was so long since John Musgrave had taken part in any entertainmentother than an informal supper at the vicarage or an equally quiethome-dinner, that he felt rather bewildered as he looked about him onthis assemblage of, for the greater part, familiar faces renderedunfamiliar by reason of an unwonted magnificence of attire. Even littleMrs Errol was gowned with unusual elegance. As Mr Musgrave's eyesfell upon her he was conscious for the first time that she was a verypretty woman. He had not thought of her as pretty before; he had merelyconsidered her womanly. It was possible, he realised, to be womanly andpretty at the same time. Her dress was eminently becoming.
Miss Simpson wore a narrow-shouldered, aesthetic garment, so modestlycut that only the scraggy column of her throat was visible above itslavender folds. Mr Musgrave, whose eyes were attracted towards her bythe magnetic force of her gaze, which was riveted on him from the momentof his entry, compared her to her disadvantage with the vicar's modishlittle wife, whose extravagance in the matter of her new dress wasspoiling one-half of her satisfaction in the knowledge that she comparedfavourably with the other guests.
Of the rest of the ladies present only one was unknown to Mr Musgrave.His eyes fell upon her as he left his hostess's side, passed over herface without