Coelebs: The Love Story of a Bachelor

the schools this morning," she observed, breaking in on MissSimpson's gossip about the new schoolmaster, who, seemingly, gave everysatisfaction, being a great improvement on his predecessor, who was, asMiss Simpson expressed it, a horrid Radical. "It was all very amusing.They are such quaint, blunt little people. I liked them. But theschools want pulling down and rebuilding. Everything is obsolete. Theceilings are too low and the ventilation inadequate. I am all for freshair."

  She laughed at sight of Miss Simpson's wooden expression, and at theshiver which ran through her narrow frame as she glanced meaningly atthe wide-open window.

  "Do you feel this too much?" she asked pleasantly, and obligingly drewthe window partially down. "Mrs Sommers and I are seasoned; but weblow Mr Musgrave away at times."

  That, of course, accounted for the absence of the master of the housewhich Miss Simpson had regretfully noticed. The draughts and the smokewould naturally drive Mr Musgrave away; no self-respecting man wouldstand it.

  "I like air," Miss Simpson answered coldly, "in moderation."

  Then she returned to the subject of the schools. This outspoken personmust be given to understand from the commencement that, though she mightpose as _grande dame_ in Moresby by reason of her residence at the Hall,the older residents would not brook interference with existinginstitutions. Moresby was conservative in principle, and resentedinnovations.

  "The present schools are a feature of the place," she said. "No onewould care to have them done away with. They are picturesque."

  "Yes; they are," Mrs Chadwick admitted readily. "That is whatdistresses me in old places--their beauty. One hates to demolish thebeautiful. But healthy children are more beautiful than old buildings;and the modern buildings, with up-to-date construction, are healthierfor small people."

  "I think our village children are remarkably healthy," Miss Simpsonprotested.

  "Do you? Half the school, I observed, had colds. Healthy childrenshould not be susceptible to chills. If they worked in properlyventilated rooms they would not be. The lungs of the young have immensepowers of resistance, but we weaken these powers with our foolishindifference to overheating and overcrowding. It is little short ofcriminal to study the picturesque in preference to the well-being of therising generation."

  "I think we should study both," Mrs Sommers intervened, with a view tosoothing the ruffled feelings of her visitor, who was chafing visiblyunder this downright attack. "The schools are certainly charming. Ishould hate to see them pulled down myself. We will have to effect somecompromise."

  Compromise, in Mrs Chadwick's opinion, was as ineffectual as patching aworn-out garment; the worn-out garment could but fulfil its destiny, andbecome rags. But she let the subject drop. It could be revived at somefuture date. The schools were being slowly drawn into the network ofher revolutionary schemes for the modernising of Moresby.

  Miss Simpson, less diplomatic, and more assertive than Mrs Sommers,showed her disapproval by abruptly changing the subject, and introducingan entirely new, and, in Mrs Chadwick's opinion, distinctly quainttopic of conversation. She referred with considerable vim to certainmatters of local importance which had been given prominence in the pagesof the current number of the _Parish Magazine_. Mrs Chadwick betrayedsuch absorbed interest in these matters that Miss Simpson was beguiledinto inquiring whether she had seen the current number of the _ParishMagazine_. She spoke of the magazine as a lover of the poets mightspeak of the works of Shakespeare, with a certain reverential awe forthe importance of proved literary merit. Mrs Chadwick wore the vaguelydistressed look that a well-read woman wears on discovering anunsuspected limitation in her literary attainments. She had not evenheard before of the _Parish Magazine_.

  "I am afraid I don't know it," she answered. "There are such a numberof magazines, aren't there? And so many new ones always coming out.One can't keep pace with these things. I stick to the old magazines,like the _Century_, and the _Strand_, and the _Contemporary Review_. Ifone ought to read the _Parish Magazine_, of course I should wish to."

  Miss Simpson stared, and Mrs Sommers laughed softly, albeit she did notconsider this quizzing altogether fair.

  "The publications you refer to are not of the same nature as the _ParishMagazine_," the visitor observed crushingly. "Our magazine is a purelylocal pamphlet for local circulation. It deals solely with parishmatters."

  Mrs Chadwick considered this dull, but she did not say so. Sheappeared politely impressed.

  "That must be very interesting to--to Moresby inhabitants," she saidgravely.

  "That is its object," Miss Simpson returned. "Most parishes have theirmagazines. The people like to know what takes place locally; and theyfind it all noted down."

  She spoke with the laboured forbearance of one who seeks to instruct avery ignorant person on a subject which should not have requiredexplanation.

  "Our magazine is a new venture," she added, with the conscious pride ofthe literary aspirant. "I started it last year. I edit it."

  "Indeed!" Mrs Chadwick's tone expressed admiration. "Please put medown as an annual subscriber."

  Miss Simpson unbent.

  "I shall be delighted. It is a monthly pamphlet, issued at one penny."

  "That is not ruinous," murmured the prospective subscriber.

  "The village people could not afford more," Miss Simpson explainedpatiently. "They all like to read it. Occasionally some of their namesare mentioned. They expect that."

  "I should be afraid," Mrs Chadwick remarked, surveying the editressseriously, "of letting myself in for a libel action in your place. Itis so difficult to be personal without the sacrifice of truth, andrefrain from giving offence. I am inclined to think a parish magazinemust be a dangerous publication."

  "You haven't got the idea at all," Miss Simpson said acidly. "We onlymention the things which reflect to the credit of the persons concerned,such as any little gift to the parish, or the participation in localentertainments, and such matters; and, of course, work done oncommittees. Mr Musgrave's name appears in its columns frequently."

  "Belle," said Mrs Chadwick, with one of her radiant smiles, "I insistupon seeing the _Parish Magazine_. How is it you have kept these thingsfrom me? It would amuse me immensely to read of Mr Musgrave's doings.He is so reticent about such things himself."

  The entrance of Mr Musgrave created a diversion. He came in in advanceof Eliza with the tea; and Mrs Chadwick, watching with mercilesslyobservant glance, noted the fluttering agitation of the visitor, whoseaustere manner changed as surprisingly as the colour of the chameleon,and became immediately gracious, and demurely coy. Mr Musgrave'smanner was not responsive. It suggested to Mrs Chadwick his attitudetowards herself.

  "I have just been hearing terrible tales of the things you do, whichgain you notoriety in the columns of the _Parish Magazine_," she saidwickedly. "I am going to read up all the back numbers."

  John Musgrave did not smile. He crossed the room deliberately, andclosed the window and fastened it--an act Miss Simpson witnessed withsatisfaction.

  "So thoughtless of me," said Mrs Chadwick apologetically. "I alwaysforget your dislike for fresh air."

  "I do not dislike fresh air," he returned gravely, "in its properplace."

  "What would you describe as its proper place?" she asked.

  "Out of doors," he answered, surprised that a clever woman should ask soobvious a question.

  Then, while the three women sat and watched him, he made the tea, takingfrom the caddy a spoonful for each guest, and an additional spoonful forthe requisite strength, according to custom. Mr Musgrave had made hisown tea for many years; he saw no reason now for discontinuing thispractice, though one person present--the one with the least right--wouldgladly have relieved him of the task. It was so pathetic, shereflected, to see a man making the tea; it was significant of his lonelystate. Clearly a man needed a wife to perform this homely office, awife of a suitable age, with similar tastes, who would never distresshim with any display of
unwomanly traits.

  "I always think that no one makes tea quite like you do," she murmuredsweetly, as she received her cup from John Musgrave's hand.

  Which speech, in its ambiguity, Mrs Chadwick considered extremelydiplomatic.

  CHAPTER SEVEN.

  "I have," said Mrs Chadwick dramatically that same evening to MrsSommers, "been exactly a week in Moresby, and I have made two enemies.What will be the result when I have lived here a year?"

  This question opened up ground for reflection. Belle reflected. Shedid it, as she did most things, quickly.

  "You will possibly overcome their prejudices, and make them love