LALAGE'S LOVERS

By George A. Birmingham

Copyright, 1911 By George H. Doran Company

CHAPTER I

I had, I suppose, some reason for calling on Canon Beresford, but I havetotally forgotten what it was. In all probability my mother sent me todiscuss some matter connected with the management of the parish or themaintenance of the fabric of the church. I was then, and still am, a church warden. The office is hereditary in my family. My son--MissPettigrew recommended my having several sons--will hold it when I amgone. My mother has always kept me up to the mark in the performance ofmy duties. Without her at my elbow I should, I am afraid, be inclinedto neglect them. I am bored, not interested as a churchwarden shouldbe, when the wall of the graveyard crumbles unexpectedly. I fail tofind either pleasure or excitement in appointing a new sexton. CanonBeresford, our rector, is no more enthusiastic about such things thanI am. He and I are very good friends, but when he suspects me of payinghim a business visit he goes out to fish. There are, I believe, troutin the stream which flows at the bottom of the glebe land, but I neverheard of Canon Beresford catching any of them. 

It must have been business of some sort which took me to the rectorythat afternoon, for Canon Beresford had gone out with his rod. MissBattersby told me this and added, as a justification of her ownagreeable solitude, that Lalage was with her father. Miss Battersby isLalage's governess, and she would not consider it right to spend theafternoon over a novel unless she felt sure that her pupil was beingproperly looked after. In this case she was misinformed. Lalage was notwith her father. She was perched on one of the highest branches of ahorse-chestnut tree. I heard her before I saw her, for the chestnut treewas in full leaf and Lalage had to hail me three or four times before Idiscovered where she was. I always liked Lalage, and even in those daysshe had a friendly feeling for me. I doubt, however, whether a simpledesire for my conversation would have brought her down from her nest. Imight have passed without being hailed if it had not happened that I wasriding a new bicycle. In those days bicycles were still rare in the westof Ireland. Mine was a new toy and Lalage had never seen it before. Sheclimbed from her tree top with remarkable agility and swung herself fromthe lowest branch with such skill and activity that she alighted on herfeet close beside the bicycle. She was at that time a little more thanfourteen years of age. She asked at once to be allowed to ride thebicycle. I was a young man then, active and vigorous; but I was hot, breathless, and exhausted before Lalage had enough of learning to ride. I doubt whether she would have given in even after an hour's hard workif we had not met with a serious accident. We charged into a stronglaurel bush. Lalage's frock was torn. The rent was a long one, extendingdiagonally from the waistband to the bottom hem. I knew, even while Ioffered one from the back of my tie, that a pin would be no use. 

"Cattersby, " said Lalage, "will be mad--raging mad. She's always at mebecause things will tear my clothes. Horrid nuisance clothes are, aren'tthey? But Cattersby doesn't think so of course. She likes them. "

The lady's name is Battersby, not Cattersby. She held the position ofgoverness to Lalage for more than a year and is therefore entitled torespect. Her predecessor, a Miss Thomas, resigned after six weeks. Itwas my mother who recommended Miss Battersby to Canon Beresford. I feltthat I ought to protest against Lalage's irreverent way of speaking. Inmere loyalty to my mother, apart altogether from the respect which, as alanded proprietor, I naturally entertain for all forms of law and order, I was absolutely bound to say something. 

"You should speak of her as Miss Battersby, " I said firmly. 

"I call her Cattersby, " said Lalage, "because that is her nature. "

I said that I understood what this marker meant; but Lalage, who eventhen had a remarkable faculty for getting at the naked truth of things, did not even pretend to believe me. 

"Come along, " she said, "and I'll show you why. "

I followed her meekly, leading my bicycle, which, like Lalage's frock, had suffered in its contest with the laurel. We passed through thestable yard and I stopped to put my bicycle into the coach house. AnIrish terrier, Lalage's property, barked at me furiously, thinking, Isuppose, that I intended to steal Canon Beresford's cart. Lalage choseto regard this as a ridiculous affectation on the part of the dog andshut him up in the stable as a punishment for folly. Then we climbed astile, paddled round a large manure heap, crossed an ash pit, and cameat last to a pigsty. There were no pigs in it, and it was, for a pigsty, very clean. Lalage opened the gate and we entered the small enclosurein which the pigs, if there had been pigs, would have taken food andexercise. 

"You'll have to stoop down now and crawl, " said Lalage. "You needn't beafraid. The pigs were sold last week. "

I realized that I was being invited to enter the actual home, theprivate sleeping room, of the departed swine. The door of it had beennewly painted. While I knelt in front of it I read a notice whichstretched across it in large white letters, done, apparently, withchalk:

 The Office of the Anti-cat Editor: Miss Lalage Beresford, B. A. Sub-Editor: Ditto. Ditto. 

Underneath this inscription was a carefully executed drawing of a spearwith a large, a disproportionately large, and vicious looking barb. Asort of banner depended from its shaft, with these words on it: "For Useon Cattersby. Revenge is sweet!" I looked round at Lalage, who was onher hands and knees behind me. 

I intended asking for some explanation of the extraordinarily vindictivespirit displayed by the spear and the banner. Lalage forestalled myquestion and explained something else. 

"I have the office here, " she said, "because it's the only place where Ican be quite sure she won't follow me. "

This time I understood thoroughly what was said to me. Cattersby--thatis to say, Miss Battersby--if she were the sort of person who mournedover torn frocks, and if, as Lalage suggested, she liked clothes, wouldbe very unwilling to follow any one into the recesses of the pigsty. Even a bower in the upper branches of a tree would be less secure fromher intrusion. We crawled in. Against the far wall of the chamber stoodthe trough from which the pigs, now no doubt deceased, used to eat. 

"It was put there, " said Lalage, who seemed to know that I was thinkingof the trough, "after they had done cleaning out the sty, so that itwouldn't go rotten in the wet before we got some more young pigs. "

"Was that Miss Battersby's idea?"

"No, it wasn't. Cattersby wouldn't think of anything half so useful. All she cares about is sums and history and lessony things. It was TomKitterick who put it there, and I helped him. Tom Kitterick is the boywho cleans the boots and pumps the water. It was that time, " sheadded, "that I got paint all over my blue dress. She said it was TomKitterick's fault. "

"It may have been, " I said, "partly. Anyhow Tom Kitterick is ared-haired, freckly youth. It wouldn't do him any harm to be slanged abit for something. "

"It's a jolly sight better to have freckles, even if you come out allover like a turkey egg, than to go rubbing stinking stuff on your faceat night. That's what Cattersby does. I caught her at it. "

Miss Battersby has a nice, smooth complexion and is, 'no doubt, quitejustified in doing her best to preserve it. But I did not argue thepoint with Lalage. A discussion might have led to further revelations ofintimate details of the lady's toilet. I was young in those days and Irather prided myself on being a gentleman. I changed the subject. 

"Perhaps, " I said, "you will now tell me why you have brought me here. Are we to have a picnic tea in the pigs' trough?"

Lalage crawled past me. She had to crawl, for there was not room inthe sty for even a child to stand upright. She took out of the trougha bundle of papers, pierced at the top left-hand corner and tied with aslightly soiled blue ribbon. She handed it to me and I looked it over. It was, apparently, a manuscript magazine modelled on those sold atrailway bookstalls for sixpence. It was called, as I might have guessed, the _Anti-Cat_. The table of contents promised the following readingmatter:

 1. Editor's Chat. 

 2. Poetry--A Farewell. To be recited in her presence. 

 3. The Ignominy of Having a Governess. 

 4. Prize Competition for the Best Insult Story. 

"You can enter for that if you like, " said Lalage, who had beenfollowing my eyes down the page. 

"I shall, " I said, "if she insults me; but she never has yet. "

"Nor she won't, " said Lalage. "She'll be honey to you. That's one of theworst things about her. She's a hypocrite. I loathe hypocrites, don'tyou?"

I returned to the table of contents:

 5. On Sneaking--First Example. 

 6. Our Tactics, by the Editor. 

"She won't insult you, " said Lalage. "She simply crawls to any grown-up. You should hear her talking to father and pretending that she thinksfishing nice. "

"She's perfectly right to do that. After all, Lalage, your father is acanon and a certain measure of respect is due to his recreations as wellas to his serious work. Besides----"

"It's never right to crawl to any one. "

"Besides, " I said, "what you call crawling may in reality be sympathy. I'm sure Miss Battersby has a sympathetic disposition. It is verydifficult to draw the line between proper respect, flavoured withappreciative sympathy, and what you object to as sycophancy. "

"If you're going to try and show off, " said Lalage, "by using ghastlylong words which nobody could possibly understand you'd better go anddo it to the Cat. She'll like it. I'm not going to sit here all daylistening to you. Either read the magazine or don't, whichever you like. I don't care whether you do or not, but I won't be jawed. "

This subdued me at once. I began with the poem:

 "Fair Cattersby I weep to see You haste away by train, As yet that Latin exercise Has not been done again. Stay, stay, Until amo, I say. (To be continued in our next)"

"There was a difficulty about the last three lines, I suppose, " I said. 

"Yes, " said Lalage. "I couldn't remember how they went, and Cattersbyhad the book. She pretends she likes reading poetry, though she doesn'treally, and she makes me learn off whole chunks of it. "

"You can't deny that it comes in useful occasionally. I don't see howyou could have composed that parody if she hadn't made you learn----"

"She didn't. That's not the sort of poetry she makes me learn. If it wasI might do it. She finds out rotten things about 'Little Lamb, who madeyou?' 'We are Seven, ' and stuff of that sort. Not what I call poetry atall. "

I had the good sense while at Oxford to attend some lectures given bythe professor of poetry. I also belonged for a time to an associationmodestly called "The Brotherhood of Rhyme. " We used to meet in my roomsand read original compositions to each other until none of us couldstand it any longer. I am therefore thoroughly well qualified to discusspoetry with any one. 

I should, under ordinary circumstances, have taken a pleasure indefending the reputations of Blake and Wordsworth, but I shrank fromattempting to do so in a pigsty with Lalage Beresford as an opponent, Iturned to the last page of the _Anti-Cat_ and read the article entitled"Our Tactics. " It was exceedingly short, but it struck me as able. Ibegan to have a great deal of pity for Miss Battersby. 

"Calm" (or Balm. There was an uncertainty about the first letter) "andhaughty _in her presence_. Let yourself out _behind her back_. "

"What about your going in for the competition?" said Lalage. "Even ifshe doesn't insult you you could easily invent something. You've seenher and you know quite well the sort she is. You might get the prize. "

"May I read the story you've got?" I asked. "If it's not very good Imight perhaps try; but it is probably quite superior to anything I couldpossibly produce, and in that case there would be no use my attemptingto compete. "

"It is good, " said Lalage, "but yours might be good too, and then Ishould divide the prize, or you could give a second prize; a box ofTurkish Delight would do. "

This encouraged me and I read the "Insult Story. "

"I did my lessons studiously, as good as I could. ", Lalage was aremarkably good speller for her age. Many much older people would havestaggered over "studiously. " She took it, so to speak, in her stride. 

"I wrote out a lot of questions on the history and answered them allwithout looking at the book. I knew it perfectly. The morning came andwith it history. I answered all the questions except one--the characterof Mary. The insulter repeated it, commanding me to 'Say it now. ' Isaid it with a bland smile upon my face, as I thought how well I knew myhistory. "

"Laiage, " I said, pausing in the narrative, "did you make that smilebland simply because you knew your history or was its blandness part ofthe tactics, 'Balm and haughty in her presence?'"

"Calm, " said Lalage, "calm, not balm. Never mind about that. Go on. "

"The insulter, " I read, "turned crimson with rage and shrieked demnationand stamped about the floor. Cooling down a bit, she said, 'You shallwrite it out ten times this afternoon. ' Naturally I was astonished, forI had said it perfectly correctly when she told me. I had, however, a better control over my temper than she had, and managed, despite mypassionate thoughts, to smile blandly all through, though it made herten times worse. "

"Well?" said Lalage when I had finished. 

"I am a little confused, " I said. "I thought the story was to be aboutan insult offered by Miss Battersby to some one else, you, or perhapsme. " "It is, " said Lalage. "That's what the prize is for, the bestinsult. "

"But this seems to me to be about an insult applied by the author toMiss Battersby. I couldn't conscientiously go in for a competition inwhich I should represent myself as doing a thing of that sort. "

"I don't know what you're talking about, " said Lalage. "I didn't insulther. She insulted me. "

"Come now, Lalage, honour bright! That smile of yours! How would youlike any one to make you ten times worse by smiling blandly at you whenyou happened to be stamping about the floor crimson in the face andshrieking----"

"I wouldn't. I don't use words of that sort even when I'm angry. "

"It might be better if you did. A frank outburst of that kind is attimes less culpable than a balmy smile. I have a much greater respectand liking for the person who says plainly what she means than----"

"She didn't. She wouldn't think it ladylike. " "Didn't what?"

"Didn't say straight out what she meant. "

"She can't have meant more, " I said. "After all, we must be reasonable. There isn't any more that any one could mean. "

"You're very stupid, " said Lalage. "I keep on telling you she didn't sayit. She's far too great a hypocrite. "

"Do you mean to say that she didn't stamp about the floor and say----"

I hesitated. I have been very carefully brought up and I am achurchwarden. Besides, there is a Latin tag which Canon Beresford, whohas a taste for tags, quotes occasionally, about the great reverence dueto boys. Obviously a much greater reverence must be due to girls. Idid not want my conscience to have an opportunity for reproaching me. Therefore I hesitated when it came to the point of saying out loud aword which Lelage ought certainly not to hear. 

She came to my rescue and finished my sentence for me in a way whichgot me out of my difficulty. Very likely she felt that she ought not tocorrupt me. 

"That word, " she said. 

"Thanks! We'll put it that way. Am I to understand that she didn't saythat word?"

"Certainly not, " said Lalage. "She couldn't if she tried. I should--Ireally think I should quite like her if she did. "

I felt that this was as far as I was at all likely to get in bringingLalage to a better frame of mind. Her attitude toward her governess wasvery far indeed from that enjoined in the Church Catechism, but I lackedthe courage to tell her so. Nor do I think I should have effected mucheven if I had been as brave in rebuke as an archdeacon or a bishop. Besides, I felt that I had accomplished something. Lalage had committedherself to an approval of a hypothetical Miss Battersby. If a governesscould be found in the world who would stamp about the floor and shriekthat word, or if Miss Battersby would learn the habit of violentprofanity, Lalage would quite like her. It was a definite concession. Ihad a mental vision of the changed Miss Battersby, a lady freckled fromhead to foot, magnificently contemptuous of glycerine and cucumber, whohated clothes and tore them when she could, who rejoiced to see bluedresses with blobs of bright red paint on them, who scoffed openly atBlake's poetry, who had been to sea or companied with private soldierson the battlefield, and so garnered a store of scorching blasphemies. Iimagined Lalage taking this paragon to her heart, clinging to her withwarm affection, leading her into pigstys for confidential chats, and, ifshe published a magazine at all, calling it _Our Feline Friend_. But thedream faded, as such dreams do. Miss Battersby was plainly incapable ofrising to the heights required. 

It is to my credit that in the end I did make an effort to softenLalage. 

"I wish, " I said, "that you'd try and call her Pussy instead of Cat. "

"Why? What's the difference?"

"The meaning is the same, " I said. "But it's a much kinder way ofputting it. You ought to try and be kind, Lalage. "

She pondered this advice for a while and then said:

"I would, if only she'd stop kissing me. "

"Does she do it often?"

"Every morning and every evening and sometimes during the day. "

That settled it. I could not press my point. Once, years afterward, MissBattersby very nearly kissed me, but even before there was any chanceof such a thing I was able to sympathize with Lalage. I crept out of thepigsty and went home again, leading my injured bicycle. 

CHAPTER II

There is a short cut which leads from my house to the church, andtherefore, of course, to the rectory, which stands, as rectories oftendo, close to the church. The path--it can only be used by those whowalk--leads past the garden and through a wood to the high road. It wason this path, a quarter of a mile or so from the road, that I met CanonBeresford, about ten days after my interview with Lalage in the pigsty. Certain wood pigeons of low morality had been attacking our gooseberrybushes. My mother, instigated by the gardener, demanded theirdestruction, and so I went out with a gun. I shot two of the worstoffenders. The gardener discovered half digested fruit in the deadbodies, so I am sure that I got the right birds and did not unjustlyexecute the innocent. Then I met the Canon. He displayed no interestwhatever in the destruction of the wood pigeons, although his gardenmust have suffered quite as much as ours. I remarked that it was nearlyluncheon time and asked him to return with me and share the meal. He wasdistraught and nervous, but he managed to quote Horace by way of reply:

 "Destrictus ensis cui super impia Cervice pendet, non Siculae dapes. . . . "

The Canon's fondness for Horace accounts, I suppose, for the name hegave his daughter. His habit of quoting is troublesome to me; becauseI cannot always translate what he says. But he has a feeling for myinfirmity and a tactful way of saving my self-respect. 

"If you had a heavy, two-handed sword hanging over your head by ahair, " he explained, "you would be thinking about something else besidesluncheon. "

"What has the Archdeacon been doing?" I asked. 

The Archdeacon is a man with a thirst for information about churchaffairs, and he collects what he wants by means of questions printedon sheets of paper which he expects other people to answer. CanonBeresford, who never has statistics at hand, and consequently hasto invent his answers to the questions, suffers a good deal from theArchdeacon. 

"It's not the Archdeacon this time, " he said. "I wish it was. The factis I am in trouble again about Lalage. I am on my way up to consult yourmother. "

"Has Miss Battersby been complaining?"

"She's leaving, " said the Canon, at once. "Leaving, so to speak, vigorously. "

"I was afraid it would come to that. She wasn't the sort of woman who'dreadily take to swearing. "

"I very nearly did, " said the Canon. "She cried. It's curious, but shereally seems fond of Lalage. "

"Did she by any chance force her way into the pigsty and find the_Anti-Cat?_"

Canon Beresford looked at me and a smile hovered about his mouth. "Soyou've seen that production?" he said. "I call it rather good. "

"But you can hardly blame Miss Battersby for leaving, can you?"

"She didn't see it, " said the Canon, "thank goodness. "

"Then why on earth is she leaving? What else can she have to complainof?"

"There was trouble. The sort of trouble nobody could possibly foresee orguard against. You know Tom Kitterick, don't you?"

"The boy who cleans your boots? Yes, I do. A freckly faced brat. "

"Exactly. Well, it appears that Miss Battersby is rather particularabout her complexion, and----"

"Lalage tried the stuff on Tom Kitterick, I suppose. "

"Yes. She used the whole bottle, and Miss Battersby found out what hadhappened and complained to me. She was extremely nice about it, but shesaid that the incident had made her position as Lalage's governess quiteimpossible. "

"Lalage, of course, smiled balmily. "

"Calmly, " said the Canon. "She told me herself that the word was calm, though it looked rather like 'balm. ' Anyhow, that was the last straw. Miss Battersby goes next week. The Archdeacon----"

"I thought he'd come in before we'd done. "

"He did his best to be sympathetic and helpful. He said yesterday, justbefore he went to Dublin, that what Lalage requires is a firm hand overher. That's the sort of thing a bachelor with no children of his owndoes say, and means of course. Any man who had ever tried to bring upa girl would know that firm hands are totally useless, and, besides, Ihaven't got any. '_Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno. .. . _' Don't try totranslate that if you'd rather not. It simply means that I'm not the manI used to be. I hate trying to cope with these domestic broils. That'swhy I'm going up to see your mother. "

The drawn sword did not really interfere with the Canon's appetite, buthe refused to smoke a cigar after luncheon. I went off by myself to thelibrary. He followed my mother into the drawing-room. I waited, althoughI had a good many things to do, until he joined me. He sighed heavily ashe sat down. 

"Lalage is to go to school after summer, " he said. 

"My mother, " I replied with conviction, "is sure to be right about amatter like that. "

"I suppose she is; but Lalage won't like it. "

The Canon sighed again, heavily. I tried to cheer him up. 

"She'll enjoy the companionship of the other girls, " I said. "I daresayshe won't have a bad time. After all, a girl of fourteen ought to havefriends of her own age. It will be far better for her to be runningabout with a skipping rope in a crowd of other damsels than to beclimbing chestnut trees and writing parodies in lonely pigstys. "

"That's very much what your mother said. I wish I could think so. I'mdreadfully afraid that, brought up as she has been, she'll have a badtime of it. "

"Anyhow, she won't have half, as bad a time as the schoolmistress. "

I had hit upon the true line of consolation. The Canon smiled feebly, and I pursued my subject. 

"There won't, of course, be pigstys in the school, but----"

"I don't think a pigsty is absolutely essential to Lalage's comfort. "

"Probably not. Lalage isn't the sort of girl who is dependent for herhappiness on the accident of outward circumstance. You know, Canon, that our surroundings are not the things which really matter most. Thephilosophic mind----"

I had unthinkingly given the Canon his opportunity. I could see awell-known quotation actually trembling on his lips. I stopped himruthlessly. 

"I know that ode, " I said. "It's one I learned at school, but it doesn'tapply to Lalage. She isn't in the least content with things as she findsthem. That's her great charm. She's more like Milton's Satan. "

I can quote too, though only English poets, unless after specialpreparation beforehand. I intended to shoot off some lines out of"Paradise Lost" at the Canon, but he would not listen. He may not haveliked the comparison suggested. 

"I have to be off, " he said. "Lalage is waiting to hear what your motherhas settled. I mustn't keep her too long. "

"Did you tell her you were coming up here for advice?"

"Of course I did. She quite agreed with me that it was the best thingto do. She always says that your mother is the only person she knows whohas any sense. Miss Battersby's sudden resignation was rather a shock toher. She was in a curiously chastened mood this morning. "

"She'll get over that all right, " I said. "She'll be bringing outanother number of the _Anti-Cat_ in a couple of days. "

I spent two hours after the Canon left me watching the building of a newlodge at my back gate. My mother professes to believe that work of thiskind, indeed of any kind, is better done if I go and look at it. In reality I think she is anxious to provide me with some sort ofoccupation and to interest me in the management of such property asrecent legislation has left to an Irish landlord. But she may be rightin supposing that the builders build better when I am watching them. They certainly build less rapidly. The foreman is a pleasant fellow, with a store of interesting anecdotes. I give him tobacco in some formand he narrates his experiences. The other workmen listen and grinappreciatively. Thus a certain sedateness of progress is ensured and alldanger of hasty building, which is, I understand, called jerry building, is avoided. 

At five o'clock, after I had heard some twenty or thirty stories and thebuilders had placed in position about the same number of stones, I wenthome in search of afternoon tea. My mother was in the drawing-room, andMiss Battersby was with her. She too, had come to ask advice. I am sureshe needed it, poor woman. What she said about Lalage I do not know, forthe subject was dropped when I entered the room, but Miss Battersby'sposition evidently commanded my mother's sympathy. Shortly after leavingthe rectory she was established, on my mother's recommendation, inThormanby Park. Lord Thormanby, who is my uncle, has three daughters, all of them nice, well-disposed girls, not the least like Lalage. Miss Battersby got on well with them, taught them everything whichwell-educated girls in their position ought to know. She finally settleddown as a sort of private secretary to Lord Thormanby. He needed someone of the sort, for as he grew older he became more and more addictedto public business. He is at present about sixty-five. If he lives to beseventy and goes on as he is going, Miss Battersby will have toretire in favour of some one who can write shorthand and manipulate atypewriter. She will then, I have no doubt, play a blameless part inlife by settling flowers for Lady Thormanby. But all this is still along way off. 

I was naturally anxious to hear Miss Battersby's version of theexperimental treatment of Tom Kitterick's complexion. I hoped thatmy mother would have told me the story voluntarily. She did not, so Iapproached the subject obliquely after dinner. 

"The Archdeacon, " I said, "was lamenting to me this morning that Mrs. Beresford died while Lalage was still a baby. "

My mother seemed a little surprised to hear this. 

"He takes the greatest interest in Lalage, " I added. "She's a veryattractive little girl. "

"Very, " said my mother. "But I thought the Archdeacon went to Dublinyesterday. He certainly told me he was going. Did he come back at once?"

"So far as I know he hasn't come back. "

"Then when did he say----"

"He didn't actually say it at all. He hardly ever says anything to me. Iso seldom see him, you know. "

This at least was true. Although the seat of the archdeaconry is inDrumbo, a town which contains our nearest railway station and which isour chief centre for local shopping, I had not spoken to the Archdeaconfor more than three months. My mother seemed to be waiting for anexplanation of my original remark. I gave her one at once. 

"But it's exactly the kind of thing the Archdeacon would have said if hehadn't been in Dublin and if I had met him and if our conversation hadhappened to turn on Lalage Beresford. "

My mother admitted frankly that this was true; but she seemed to thinkmy explanation incomplete. I added to it. 

"He went on to speak at some length, " I said. "That is to say he wouldhave gone on to speak at some length about the great importance of amother's influence during the early years of a girl's life. "

My mother still looked at me and her face still wore a questioningexpression. It was evident to me that I must further justify myself. 

"So I'm not doing the Archdeacon any wrong, " I went on, "in puttinginto his mouth words and sentiments which he would certainly approve. Ihappen to have forestalled him in giving them expression, but he wouldreadily endorse them. You know yourself that he's great on subjects likethe sacred home influence of a good woman. "

"I suppose, " said my mother after a pause, "that you want to hear thewhole account of Lalage's latest escapade?"

"Miss Battersby's version of it, " I said. "I heard the Canon's afterluncheon. "

"And that story of yours about the Archdeacon----"

"That, " I said, "was my way of introducing the subject withoutdisplaying what might strike you as vulgar curiosity. I have too muchrespect for you to heckle you with aggressive inquiries as if you were aChief Secretary for Ireland and I were a Member of Parliament. Besides, I don't like the feeling that I'm asking blunt questions about MissBattersby's private affairs. After all, she's a lady. I'm sure you'llappreciate my feelings. "

"Lalage, " said my mother, "is an extremely naughty little girl who willbe a great deal better at school. "

"But have you considered the plan from the point of view of the schoolyou're sending her to?"

"Miss Pettigrew is an old friend of mine and----"

"Is she the schoolmistress?"

"The principal, " said my mother, "and she's quite capable of dealingwith Lalage. "

"I wasn't thinking of her. As I told the Canon this afternoon, Lalagewill probably be very good for her. "

"She'll certainly be very good for Lalage. "

"I'm not saying anything the least derogatory to Miss Pettigrew. Schoolmasters are just the same. So are the heads of colleges. Theposition tends to develop certain quite trifling defects of characterfor which Lalage will be an almost certain cure. "

"You don't know Miss Pettigrew. "

"No, I don't. That's the reason I'm trying not to talk of her. What I'mconsidering and what you ought to be considering is the effect of Lalageon the other girls. Think of those nice, innocent young creatures, freshfrom their sheltered homes----"

"My dear boy, " said my mother, "what on earth do you know about littlegirls?"

"Nothing, " I said, "but I've always been led to believe that they aresweet and innocent. "

"Let me tell you then, " said my mother, "that Lalage has a career ofreal usefulness before her in that school. Most girls of her age areinclined to be sentimental and occasionally priggish. Lalage will dothem all the good in the world. "

I wonder why it is that so many able women have an incurably lowopinion of their own sex? My mother would not say things like that aboutschoolboys, though they are at least equally sentimental and most ofthem more priggish. She is extremely kind to people like Miss Battersby, although she regards them as pitiably incompetent when their cosmeticsare used on stable-boys. Yet she would not despise me or regard it as myfault if some one took my shaving soap and washed a kitchen maid's facewith it. 

"So, " I said, "Lalage is to go forth as a missionary of anarchy, aravening wolf into the midst of a sheepfold. "

"The Archdeacon was saying to me this morning, " said my mother, "that ifyou----"

"May I interrupt you one moment?" I said. "I understood that theArchdeacon was in Dublin. "

"This, " said my mother, "is another of the things which the Archdeaconwould have said if he had been at home. "

"Oh, " I said, "in that case I should particularly like to hear it. "

"He said, or would have said, that if you allow your habit of flippanttalking to grow on you you'll lose all hold on the solemn realities oflife and become a totally useless member of society. "

"I quite admit, " I said, "that the Archdeacon would have put it inpretty nearly those words if he had said it. I particularly admire thatpart about the solemn realities of life. But the Archdeacon's a just manand he would not have made a remark of that kind. He knows the facts. I hold a commission in the militia, which is one of the armed forces ofthe Crown; auxiliary is, I think, the word properly applied to it. I ama justice of the peace and every Wednesday I sit on the judgment seatin Drumbo and agree with the stipendiary magistrate in administeringjustice. I am also a churchwarden and the Archdeacon is well aware ofwhat that means. He would be the first to admit that these aresolemn realities. I don't see what more I can do, unless I stand forParliament. I suppose a constituency might be found somewhere whichwould value a man with a good temper and a little money to spare. "

"Perhaps, " said my mother smiling, "we'll find that constituency for yousome day. "

This was the first hint I ever got of my unfortunate destiny. It gaveme a feeling of chill. There is nothing I want less than a seat inParliament; but nothing seems more certain now than that I shall getone. Even then, when my mother made her first smiling reference to thesubject, I knew in my heart that there was no escape for me. 

CHAPTER III

Lalage's departure from our midst took place early in September andhappened on a Wednesday, the day of the Drumbo Petty Sessions. Our listof malefactors that week was a particularly short one and I was ableto leave the court house in good time to see Lalage off at the railwaystation. I was in fact, in very good time and arrived half an hourbefore the train was advertised to leave. Canon Beresford and Lalagewere there before me. The Canon, when I came upon them, was pressingLalage to help herself to chocolate creams from a large box which heheld open in his hand. He greeted me with an apologetic quotation:

 "Nunc vino peilite curas Cras ingens iterabimus sequor. "

"When you come home for the Christmas holidays, Lalage, " I said, "you'llbe able to translate that. In the meanwhile I may as well tell you thatit means----"

"You needn't, " said Lalage. "Father has told me four times already. Hehas been saying it over and over ever since breakfast. It means that Imay as well eat as much as I can now because I shall be sick to-morrowany way. But that's all humbug, of course. I shouldn't be sick if Iate the whole box. Last Christmas I ate three boxes as well as plumpudding. "

I felt snubbed. So, I think, did the Canon. Lalage smiled at us, butmore in pity than in balm. 

"I call this rather a scoop for me, " said Lalage. 

"I'm glad of that, " I said, "for I've brought a bottle of French plumsfrom my mother and a box of Turkish Delight which I bought out of my ownmoney. "

"Thanks, " said Lalage. "But it wasn't the chocolates I was thinkingof. The scoop I mean is going to school. It's a jolly sight better thanrotting about here with a beastly governess. "

"You can't expect any governess to enjoy being robbed of her glycerineand cucumber, " I said. "You wouldn't like it yourself. "

"That wasn't the real reason, " said Lalage. "Even Cattersby had moresense than that. "

"She means, " said the Canon, "that it didn't begin there. "

"No, " I said, "it began with the character of Mary. "

"It didn't, " said Lalage. "She'd forgotten all about that and so had I. What really began it was my birthday. For three weeks I had suggested aholiday for that day from the tyrant. Her answer had ever been: 'A halfwill do you nicely. ' If pressed: 'You are very ungrateful. I may notgive you even that. ' So I acted boldly. It was breakfast time and wewere eating fish----"

"Trout, " said the Canon. "I remember the morning perfectly. TomKitterick caught them the day before. I took him out with me. TheArchdeacon had been over to see me. "

"Laying down my fork, " Lalage went on, "I said to no one inparticular----"

"Excuse me, Lalage, " I said, "but is this a quotation from the lastnumber of the _Anti-Cat?_"

"It is. I had an article about it. How did you guess?"

"There was something in the style of the narrative, a certain quiteappreciable literary flavour which suggested the _Anti-Cat_; but pleasego on and keep to the words of the article as far as possible. You hadjust got to where you spoke to no one in particular. "

"Laying down my fork, I said to no one in particular: 'Of course I geta holiday for my birthday. ' 'I think a half----' began she. 'Of course, 'said father loudly, 'a holiday on such a great occasion. ' Her face fell. Her scowl deepened. To hide her rage she blew her nose. There was arevengeful glitter in her eye. "

Lalage paused. 

"I need scarcely tell you, " said the Canon, "that I had no idea when Ispoke that there had been any previous discussion of the subject. "

"The article ends there, I suppose, " I said. 

"Yes, " said Lalage. "She had it in for me after that worse than ever, knowing that I had jolly well scored off her. "

"And in the end she broke out over your effort to improve TomKitterick's complexion?"

"She sneaked, " said Lalage; "sneaked to father. I wrote an article aboutthat. It's in my box if you'd like to see it. "

The Canon's eyes met mine. Then we both looked at our watches. We hadstill ten minutes before the train started. 

"It's about halfway down, " said Lalage, "on the left-hand side. "

"I think we might----" I said. 

"Yes, " said the Canon. "In fact we must. "

We moved together across the platform toward the porter's barrow, onwhich Lalage's trunk lay. 

"I should like to see the article, " I said, fumbling with the strap. 

"It isn't so much that, " said the Canon. "Somebody is sure to unpack herbox for her to-night, and if Miss Pettigrew came on the thing and readit----"

"She would be prejudiced against Lalage. "

"I'd like the poor child to start fair, anyhow, " said the Canon, "whatever happens later on. "

We unpacked a good many of Lalage's clothes and came on the secondnumber of the _Anti-Cat_. Lalage took possession of it and turned overthe pages, while the Canon and I refolded a blue serge dress and wedgedit into its place with boots. 

"Here you are, " said Lalage, when I had finished tugging at the straps. "'Sneaking, Second Example. The Latest Move of Cattersby. Such a move! Adisgrace to any properly run society, a further disgrace to the alreadydisgraceful tactics of the Cat! How even that base enemy could do such athing is more than we honourable citizens can understand. '"

"The other honourable citizen, " I said, "is Tom Kitterick, I suppose. "

"No, " said Lalage. "There was only me, but that's the way editorsalways talk. Father told me so once. --'Yet she did it. She sneaked. Yes, sneaked to the grown-up society, complained, as the now extinct Tommyused to do. "

"The allusion, " I said, "escapes me. Who was the now extinct Tommy?"

"The one before the Cat, " said Lalage. 

"Her name, " said the Canon feebly, "was Miss Thomas. She did complain agood deal about Lalage during the six weeks she was with us. "

"Is that the whole of the article?" I asked. "It's very short. "

"There was nothing more to say, " said Lalage; "so what was the good ofgoing on?"

"I thought, " I said, "and hoped that there might have been something init about the effect the stuff had on Tom Kitterick. I have never beenable to find out anything about that. "

"It didn't do much to Tom Kitterick, " said Lalage. "He was just asturkey eggy afterward as he was before. It didn't even smart, though Irubbed it in for nearly half an hour, and Tom Kitterick said I'd havethe skin off his face, which just shows the silly sort of stuff it was. Not that I'd expect the Cat to have anything else except silly stuff. That's the kind she is. Anybody would know it by simply looking at her. Father, I don't believe you've got my ticket. Hadn't you better go andsee about it?"

The Canon went in search of the station master and found him at lastdigging potatoes in a plot of ground beyond the signal box. It took sometime to persuade him to part with anything so valuable as a ticket toDublin. 

"Lalage, " I said, while the Canon was arguing with the station master, "I want you to write to me from school and tell me how you are gettingon. "

"I have a lot of letters to write, " she said. "I'm not sure I can writeto you. "

"Try. I particularly want to know what Miss Pettigrew thinks of yourEnglish composition. I should mark you high for it myself. "

"I have to write to father every week, and I've promised to answer TomKitterick when he lets me know how the new pigs are getting on. "

"Still you might manage a line to me in between. If you do I'll send youa long answer or a picture postcard, whichever you like. "

"I can't read your writing, " said Lalage, "so I'd rather have thepostcard. "

The Canon returned just as the train steamed in. We put Lalage into asecond-class compartment. Then I slipped away and gave the guard halfa crown, charging him to look after Lalage and to see that no mischiefhappened to her on the way to Dublin. To my surprise he was unwillingto receive the tip. He told me that the Canon had already given himtwo shillings and he seemed to think that he was being overpaid for asimple, not very onerous, duty. I pressed my half crown into his handand assured him that before he got to Dublin he would, if he reallylooked after Lalage, have earned more than four and sixpence. 

"In fact, " I said, "four and sixpence won't be nearly enough tocompensate you for the amount of worry and anxiety you will go through. You must allow me to add another half crown and make seven shillings ofit. '"

The man was a good deal surprised and seemed inclined to protest. 

"You needn't hesitate, " I said. "I wouldn't take on the job myself fordouble the money. "

"It could be, " said the guard pocketing my second half crown, "that theyoung lady might be for getting out at the wrong station. There's someof them does. "

"Nothing so simple as that, " I said. "Any ordinary young lady would getout at a wrong station, and a couple of shillings would be plenty tooffer you for chasing her in again. This one----"

I hesitated, for I really did not know what Lalage was likely to do. 

"I'll lock the door on her, anyway, " said the guard. 

"You may, but don't flatter yourself that you'll have her safe then. The only thing you can calculate on in the case of this particularyoung lady is that whatever she does will be something that you couldn'tpossibly guess beforehand. Not that there's any real harm in her. She'ssimply possessed of an adventurous spirit and striking originality. Good-bye. "

I had just time to shake hands with Lalage before the train started. Shewaved her pocket handkerchief cheerily to us as we stood together onthe platform. I caught a glimpse of the guard's face while his van sweptpast us. It wore a set expression, like that of a man determined inthe cause of duty to go steadily forward into the unknown facing dreadthings bravely. I was satisfied that I had made a deep impression onhim and I felt sorry that I had not made up his tip to an even halfsovereign. 

The Canon was depressed as we drove home together. I felt it my duty tocheer him up as much as I could. 

"After all, " I said, "you've nothing to reproach yourself with. Miss Battersby has got another situation. She'll be far happier atThormanby's than she ever could have been with you. His girls arethoroughly well brought up. "

"She was very fond of Lalage, " said the Canon. 

"Still, they didn't suit each other. Miss Battersby will get over anyfeeling of regret she may have at first. She'll be far more at home withquiet, well-tamed girls like Thormanby's. "

The Canon was not listening to me. I judged from this that it was notanxiety about Miss Battersby's future that was preying on his mind. Itried again. 

"If it's the thought of that bottle of glycerine and cucumber which isworrying you, " I said, "don't let it. Send her another. Send her two. Make Tom Kitterick carry them over to Thormanby Park and present them onbended knee, clad only in his shirt and with a halter round his neck. "

The Canon's gloom merely deepened. 

"I don't think, " I said, "that you need fret about Miss Pettigrew. Afterall, it's her job. She must meet plenty of high-spirited girls. "

"I wasn't thinking of her, " said the Canon. 

Then he began to murmur to himself and I was barely able, by leaningover toward him, to catch the quotation. 

 "Miserarum est neque amori dare ludem. . . . "

He saw that I was listening and lapsed into English. "There's atranslation of that ode, " he said, "into something quite like theoriginal metre":

 "'How unhappy is the maiden who with Cupid may not play, And who may not touch the wine cup, but must listen all the day To an uncle and the scourging of his tongue'"

"Come now, Canon, " I said, "Lalage is a precocious child, I know. Butshe won't feel those particular deprivations yet awhile. She didn't tryto flirt with Tom Kitterick, did she?"

"It's all the same thing really, " said the Canon. "The confinement anddiscipline will be just as severe on her as they were on that girl ofHorace's, though, of course, they will take a different form. She'sbeen accustomed to a good deal of freedom and independence. "

"According to the Archdeacon, " I said, "to more than was good for her. "

"I couldn't help that. "

"No, you couldn't. Nobody could. My mother thinks Miss Pettigrew may, but I don't believe it myself. Lalage will break out all right as soonas she gets a chance. "

For the first time since we left the station the Canon smiled and seemeda little more cheerful. 

"If I thought that----" he said. 

"You may be perfectly sure of it, but I don't think you ought actuallyto hope it. The Archdeacon is a very wise man and I'm sure that, if hecontemplates the possibility at all, he fears it. "

"I suppose so, " said the Canon, sighing again. "It will all be a greatchange for Lalage, whatever happens. "

CHAPTER IV

I feared at first that Lalage was not going to write to me. Nearly threeweeks passed before I got a letter from her and I was inclined toblame her for neglect of an old friend. When the letter did arrive Iimderstood that I had no right to be angry. Lalage was better than I haddared to hope. She kept a kind of irregular diary in an exercise bookand sent it to me. It was, like all diaries, in disconnected paragraphs, evidently written down when the mood for recording experiences was onLalage. There were no dates attached, but the first entry must, I think, embody the result of a very early series of impressions. One, at least, of the opinions expressed in it was modified later on:

"When I arrived I was hustled into a room by a small fat lady dressed inpurple; not the old Pet, which is what we call Miss Pettigrew. I waitedfor ten minutes. Then I was hustled upstairs by the same purple-clothedlady, and shown a locker, Number 73. There I stayed for about fiveminutes and then was driven down again by the purple-clothed lacly andpushed into the same room as I had been before. Again I was herded off(after about five minutes), needless to say by the purple-robed woman, and shoved into a waiting-room. "

Lalage's patience must by this time have been wearing thin. It isnoticeable that the "lady" had become a mere "woman" in the lastsentence. 

"There I stayed twenty minutes, a long twenty minutes, and lo! therecame the purple-dressed woman unto me and bore me away to be examined. She slung me at the mercy of a mistress who gave me a desk (with a chairclamped to the ground) paper, pen and examination papers. Could youanswer the following: Who succeeded (a) Stephen, (b) John, (c) EdwardIII? I said to the old Pet, 'This is all rotten. ' (By the way, I hadbeen sent off to her when I had done. ) And she replied, 'Oh, that's notat all a nice word for a young lady to use. We can't have that here. 'She's rather an ass. 

"I was made to feel exactly like Lady Macbeth to-day at algebra. WhenMiss Campbell turned her back, another girl dared me to put my penin Miss Campbell's red ink. (This is strictly against the law. ) Soof course I did. But instead of mopping it straight off like a fool Idisplayed it with pride. Consequently it fell all over my hands. MissCampbell was just coming up so I had to hide them murmuring 'Out, damnedspot!' etc. Luckily she didn't see, for she's just the sort that wouldreport you like a shot. "

"The names of suburban houses are awfully funny. "

This entry evidently followed one of Lalage's first outings. I feltacutely the contrast between the pleasant chestnut tree, the fragrantsty, and the paved footways along which she is now condemned to tramp. 

"An awful, staring, backgardenly looking house, with muslin curtains, frilly and a jumpy looking pattern on the side is called 'Sans Souci!'One ass calls his stable Cliftonville, although I bet he's never seenClifton. Ardenbough and Honeysuckle Arbour are common. 

"To-day we heard a frightful row in the corridor, laughing, talking, and trampling. Miss Campbell half rose and said: 'I must put a stop tothis. ' Before she could, the door was flung open and in bounced--the oldPet and three visitors! After a moment's conversation with Miss Campbellshe retired, banging the door in a way she'd expel any one else for. 

"This letter _is_ lasting on. Hilda gets sixpence every time she istop, threepence second, and twopence third, but does not get any regularpocket money. She's very rich at present, as she's been top three timesrunning. How I'd like to play Rugby football. It looks enticing to belet knock a person down. It _is_ a pity girls can't, only lucky boys. Iwonder why I feel poorer here than at home and yet have more money. "

The Canon had, I am sure, provided Lalage with a suitable amount ofpocket money. I myself gave her five shillings the day before sheleft home. She ought not to feel poor. Compared to Hilda, who hasone-and-sixpence, earned in the sweat of her brow, Lalage must seem amillionaire. 

"Do you know the kind of person who you hate and yet can't help lovingalthough you are afraid of her? That is the sort the old Pet is. As Iwas going into school to-day she was standing at the door. The beastpromptly spotted the fact that I had no hair ribbon, and remarked inawe-inspiring tones, 'Lalage, where is your hair ribbon?' 'Forgot it, 'said I, and took a lecture with a polite grin. The old Pet may be abeast, but is _not_ an ass. I hope the weather will improve soon. 

"There is no doubt that I am of a persevering nature or I would notcontinue to write this letter. I fear it is so long that you'll neverget through it, though I did not know it until now. I know a girl who islearning Greek. She's awful, and so clever. She is in my Latin class andprime favourite with Carpy. 

"Your affect. 

"Lalage. "

Carpy cannot be the real name of the lady who teaches Latin to Lalageand Greek to the awful girl. I have tried to reconstruct her name fromits corruption, but have hitherto failed to satisfy myself. She may bea Miss Chartres. Perhaps she is the purple-gowned woman who hustled, pushed, herded and slung Lalage on the day of her arrival. She cannot, in any case, be identified with the mathematician who uses red ink. Noingenuity in nicknaming could extract Carpy from Campbell. 

There was, in spite of its great length, a postscript to Lalage'sletter. There was also an enclosure. 

"P. S. What does 'flippant' mean? The old Pet said my comp. Was flippant, and I don't know what that is. It was my first comp. "

I unfolded the "comp. " and read it carefully:

Composition on Politeness by Lalage Beresford

Politeness is a very difficult art to acquire. It is altogether anacquired art, for no one is polite when he is born. Some sorts ofpoliteness are sensible and they are comparatively easy to learn. Begging a person's pardon when we tread on their toes is polite and is areasonable thing to do. But there are many silly things to learn beforewe become really polite. For instance, a boy must learn to open the doorfor ladies and walk after them always. This does the ladies no good andis sometimes very inconvenient for the boy. He may be in a hurry. It isnot polite for a girl to sit with her legs crossed and her head leaningaback on her hands. This is a position which does no one any harm, so itis absurd that it should be considered unpolite. In old days politenesswas carried to much greater extremities than it is now. In the dayswhen they used to fight duels, when two gentlemen felt really annoyed, instead of one of them saying to the other, "Go and get your swordand let me kill you, " and the other replying, "All right, I shall bedelighted to kill a man whom I detest, " they demanded "satisfaction"of each other in most polite tones and parted with low bows and polite, though sneering, smiles. Politeness is a very good thing in moderation, but not if carried too far. 

Skeat traces the word "flippant" back through "flip" and the oldNorthumbrian present participle ending "an" to the Icelandic "fleipa, "which means to prattle--I found this out in a dictionary and copied itdown for Lalage. Miss Pettigrew was not, I think, justified in applyingthe word, supposing that she used it in its strict etymological sense, to Lalage's composition. There was more in the essay than mere prattle. But Miss Pettigrew may have had reasons of her own, reasons which I canonly guess, for wishing to depreciate this particular essay. It is quitepossible that she was herself the person who told Lalage that it is rudefor a girl to sit with her lees crossed. My mother, to whom I showed thecomposition when I consulted her about the probable meaning of flippant, refused to entertain this suggestion. She knows Miss Pettigrew anddoes not think she is the kind of person who would attach excessiveimportance to the position of Lalage's legs. She thinks that the maximreferred to by Lalage--there evidently was a maxim in her mind whenshe wrote--must have fallen from the lips of Miss Campbell, themathematician, Carpy, or the purple-gowned woman. If she is right, Ican only suppose that Miss Pettigrew in using the word flippant meantto support the authority of her subordinates and to snub Lalage forattempting to rebel against time-honoured tradition. 

I walked across to the rectory after luncheon, intending to show myletter and the composition on politeness to the Canon. I found himseriously upset. He had received a letter from Lalage, and he had alsoenjoyed a visit from the Archdeacon. He was ill-advised in showing theletter to the Archdeacon. I should have had more sense. I suppose hethought that, dealing as it did almost entirely with religious subjects, it was likely to interest the Archdeacon. It did interest him. Itinterested him excessively, to an extent which occasioned a good deal oftrouble. 

"Dear Father: I have read nearly the whole of the 'Earthly Paradise'since I came here. It is an awfully jolly book. ('Little Folks' isMiss Campbell's idea of literature for the young; but that's all rotof course. ) Who wrote the Litany? If you do not know please ask theArchdeacon when you see him. I've come to the conclusion that some of itis very well written. "

"I did ask the Archdeacon, " said the Canon, looking up from the letter, "and he said he'd hunt up the point when he went home. "

"Lalage, " I said, "has quite a remarkable feeling for style. See the wayshe writes about the 'Earthly Paradise. ' It must be the way you broughther up on quotations from Horace. Miss Campbell hardly appreciates her, I'm afraid. But of course you can't expect a mathematician to rise muchabove 'Little Folks' in the way of literature. I suppose the Archdeaconwas greatly pleased with that conundrum about the Litany. "

"It was what followed, " said the Canon, "which excited him. "

He began to read again:

"There is a clergyman who comes once a week to give us a scripturelesson. He is only a curate and looks very shy. We had a most excitingtime with him yesterday. We all shied paper wads, and he moved nearlyevery one up and sent one girl out of the room. "

"He can't, " I said, "have been as shy as he looked. But I'm beginning tounderstand why the Archdeacon was shocked. "

"He didn't mind that, " said the Canon; "at least not much. "

Lalage's letter went on:

"I was glad, that it wasn't me, who was just as bad, that he didn't whathe calls 'make an example of. ' Even that didn't calm the excitedclass and he said, 'Next person who laughs will be reported to MissPettigrew. ' It was not me, but the girl next me, Eileen Fraser. I wasthe innocent cause of the offence. (A mere wink at Hilda when I had mybelt round her neck. ) She was not, however, reported, even to Carpy. "

"By the way, " I said, "who is Carpy? She comes into my letter too. "

The Canon did not know and seemed uninterested in the point. He went onreading:

"Another day he committed an unforgivable offence. He said to us, 'Youmust stand up when quoting the words of the Bible. '"

"Isn't that always considered essential?" I asked. "The unforgivableoffence, " said the Canon, "is in the next sentence. "

"But _he_ sat with his feet on the fender, the pig. I do hate thatsort. Even when Hilda said that Ananias told a lie and was turned intoa pillar of salt he did not laugh. He said he'd turn one girl out of theroom to-day for nothing but dropping her pen. "

"The Archdeacon, " I said, "could of course sympathize with that curate. "

"It wasn't that which made him really angry, " said the Canon, "althoughhe didn't like it. "

"There must be something pretty bad coming, if it's worse than that. "

The Canon sighed heavily and went on reading

"Hilda taught me the two-step at rec. Another girl (also in my class andjolly nice) played them. "

The Canon looked up with a puzzled expression. I explained as well as Icould. 

"The two-step, " I said, "is a dance. What the jolly, nice girl playedis a little obscure, but I think it must have been tunes suitable to theperformance of the two-step. 'Rec. ' is a shortened form of recreation. Lalage is fond of these contractions. She writes to me about her comp. "

The canon read: "On the other days, the old Pet takes us herself atScrip: We were at Genesis, and she read out, 'In the beginning Godcreated the heaven, and the earth. ' 'But of course you all know Hedidn't. Modern science teaches us----' Then she went on with a lot ofrot about gases and forces and nebulous things. "

"The Archdeacon, " said the Canon, "is going to write to the Archbishopof Dublin about it. He says that kind of teaching ought not to beallowed. "

"We must head him off somehow, " I said, "if he really means it. But hehardly can. I don't expect he'll run into extremes. He certainlywon't without taking advice. The Archdeacon isn't a man to do anythingdefinite in a hurry. He's told me over and over again that he deprecatesprecipitancy of action. "

"He feels very strongly about the Higher Criticism. Very stronglyindeed. He says it's poisoning the wells of religion in the home. "

"Last time he lunched with us he said it was sapping the foundations. Still I scarcely think he'll want to institute a heresy prosecutionagainst Miss Pettigrew. "

"I'm very much afraid--he seemed most determined----"

"We must switch him off on to some other track, " I said. "If you funktackling him----"

"I did my best. "

"I suppose that I'd better try him. It's a nuisance. I hate arguing witharchdeacons; but of course we can't have Lalage put into a witness boxand ballyragged by archbishops and people of that kind, and she'd bethe only available witness. Hilda can't be in a position to give a clearaccount of what happened, considering that she was half strangled byLalage's belt at the time. "

"It was at the curate's class that the belt incident occurred, " said theCanon, "just after they had been throwing paper wads. "

"So it was. All the same I don't think Hilda would be much use as awitness. The memory of that choking would be constantly with her andwould render every scripture lesson a confused nightmare for monthsafterward. The other girls would probably lose their heads. It's allwell enough to pelt curates with paper wads. Any one could do that. It'squite a different thing to stand up before an ecclesiastical court andanswer a string of questions about nebulous things. That Archbishop willfind himself relying entirely on Lalage to prove the Archdeacon's case, which won't be a nice position for her. I'll go home now and drive overat once to see the Archdeacon. "

"Do, " said the Canon. "I'd go with you only I hate this kind of fuss. Some men like it. The Archdeacon, for instance. Curious, isn't it, howdifferently we're made, though we all look very much alike from theoutside. 'Sunt quos cumculo----'" I did not wait to hear the end of thequotation. 

I approached the Archdeacon hopefully, relying, I confess, less on theintrinsic weight of the arguments I meant to use than on the respectwhich I knew the Archdeacon entertained for my position in the county. My mother is the sister of the present Lord Thormanby, a fact whichby itself predisposes the Archdeacon in my favour. My father was adistinguished soldier. My grandfather was a still more distinguishedsoldier, and there are pictures of his most successful battle hangingin my dining-room. The Archdeacon has often seen them and I am sureappreciates them. I am also, for an Irish landlord, a well-off man. Imight, so I believed, have trusted entirely to these facts to persuadethe Archdeacon to give up the idea of communicating Miss Pettigrew'slapse into heterodoxy to the Archbishop. But I worked out a couple ofsound arguments as well, and I was greatly surprised to find that Iproduced no effect whatever on the Archdeacon. He bluntly refused tomodify his plan of action. 

I quoted to him the proverb which warns us to let sleeping dogs lie. Under any ordinary circumstances this would have appealed strongly tothe Archdeacon. It was just the kind of wisdom by which he guides hislife. I was taken aback when he replied that Miss Petti-grew, so farfrom being a sleeping dog, was a roaring lion. A moment later he calledher a ravenous evening wolf; so I gave up my proverb as useless. I thenreminded him that Lalage was evidently quite unaffected by the teachingwhich she received, had in fact described modern science as a lot ofrot. The Archdeacon replied that, though Lalage escaped, others mightbe affected; and that he was not quite sure even about Lalage, becauseinsidious poisons are most to be feared when they lie dormant in thesystem for a time. 

This brought me to the end of my two arguments and I had to inventanother on the spot. I am always rather ashamed to think of the one Iactually used, but I was driven against the wall and the position seemedalmost desperate. I suggested that Lalage's account of the scripturelesson was in all probability quite unreliable. 

"You know, Archdeacon, " I said, "that all little girls are horridliars. "

The insinuation that Lalage ever spoke anything but the truth wastreacherous and abominable. She has her faults; but I have not theslightest doubt in my mind that her description of Miss Pettigrew'sscripture lesson was a perfectly honest account of the impression itproduced on her mind. The Archdeacon hesitated, and, hoping for thebest, I plunged deeper. 

"Lalage in particular, " I said, "is absolutely reckless about thetruth. "

The Archdeacon shook his head mournfully. 

"I wish I could think so, " he said. "I should be glad, indeed, if Icould take your view of the matter; but in these days when the HigherCriticism is invading our pulpits and our school rooms----"

His voice faded away into the melancholy silence and he continuedshaking his head. 

This shows how much more important dogmatic truth is than the ordinaryeveryday correspondence between statement and fact. To the Archdeacon alie of Lalage's would have been a minor evil in every way preferable, if it came to a choice between the two, to Miss Pettigrew's unorthodoxinterpretation of the Mosaic narrative. I could argue the matter no moreand fell back upon a last plan. 

"Archdeacon, " I said, "come out and dine with us to-night. Talk thewhole business over with my mother before you take any definite action. "

The Archdeacon agreed to do this. I went home at once and prepared mymother for the conflict. 

"You must use all your influence, " I said. "It is a most seriousbusiness. "

"My dear boy, " said my mother, "it's quite the most ridiculous storm ina tea cup of which I've ever heard. "

"No, " I said solemnly, "it's not. If the Archdeacon makes his chargeformally the Archbishop will be obliged to take it up. Miss Pettigrewwill be hauled up before him----"

"Miss Pettigrew, " said my mother, "would simply laugh. She's not in thevery least the sort of woman----"

"I know. She's one of those people that you hate awfully and yet can'thelp loving though you are rather afraid of her. It's for her sake morethan Lalage's that I'm asking you to interfere. "

"If I interfere at all it will be for the Archdeacon's sake. It's a pityto allow him to make a fool of himself. "

I do not know what line my mother actually took with the Archdeacon. I left them together after dinner and when the time came for sayinggood-night I found that the Archdeacon had been persuaded not to attempta formal protest against Miss Pettigrew's teaching. He has never, however, trusted her since then and he still shakes his head doubtfullyat the mention of her name. 

I wrote to Lalage next day and told her not to send home any moreaccounts of scripture lessons. English compositions, I said, we shouldbe glad to receive. Latin exercises would always be welcome, and algebrasums, especially if worked in Miss Campbell's red ink, would be regardedas treasured possessions. 

"All letters, " I added, "suspected of containing ecclesiastical news ofany kind will be returned to you unopened. "

I also called on the Canon and spoke plainly to him about the danger andfolly of showing letters to the Archdeacon. 

"I was wrong, " said the Canon apologetically. "I can see now that I waswrong, but I thought at the time that he'd enjoy the joke. "

"You ought, " said I severely, "to have had more sense. The Archdeaconexpects to be a bishop some day. He can't afford to enjoy jokes of thatkind. By the way, did he tell you who wrote the Litany?"

CHAPTER V

It must have been about three weeks after the pacification of theArchdeacon by my mother that a crisis occurred in my affairs. I am not aperson of any importance, although I shall be, I fear, some day; andmy affairs up to the present are not particularly interesting even tomyself. I record the crisis because it explains the fact that I losttouch with Lalage for nearly four years and know little or nothing abouther development during that time. I wish I knew more. Some day, when Ihave a little leisure, I mean to have a long talk with Miss Pettigrew. She saw more of Lalage in those days than any one else did, and I thinkshe must have some very interesting, perhaps exciting, things to tell. To a sympathetic listener Miss Pettigrew would talk freely. She hasa sense of humour, and like all people who are capable of laughingthemselves, takes a pleasure in telling good stories. 

It was my uncle, Lord Thormanby, who was mainly responsible for myprivate crisis. My mother, I daresay, goaded him on; but he has alwaystaken the credit for arranging that I should join the British embassyin Lisbon as a kind of unpaid attaché. My uncle used his private andpolitical influence to secure this desirable post for me. I do not knowexactly whom he worried. Perhaps it was a sympathetic Prime Minister, perhaps the Ambassador himself, a nobleman distantly connected withLady Thonnanby. At all events, the thing was done and Thonnanby wasenormously proud of the achievement. He gave me a short lecture by wayof a send-off, in which he dwelt a good deal on his own interest in myfuture and told me that my appointment might lead on to something big. It has not done so, up to the present, but that I daresay is my ownfault. 

The Canon, who seemed sorry to say good-bye to me, gave me a present ofan English translation of the works of the philosopher Epictetus, withseveral passages, favourites of his own, marked in red ink. One ofthese I used frequently to read and still think about occasionally, notbecause I have the slightest intention of trying to live in the spiritof it, but because it always reminds me of the Canon himself, andso makes me smile. "Is a little of your oil spilt, or a little winestolen?" said this philosopher. "Then say to yourself: 'For so muchpeace is bought. This is the price of tranquillity. ' For nothing canbe gained without paying for it. " It is by this wisdom that the man whohappened to be Lalage's father was able to live without worrying himselfinto frequent fevers. 

The Archdeacon dined with us a short time before I left home and gave mea very fine valedictory address. He said that I was about to follow theexample of my ancestors and devote myself to the service of my country. He had every hope that I would acquit myself as nobly as they did. Thiswas a very affecting thing to say, particularly in our dining-room, with the pictures of my grandfather's battles hanging round the walls. I looked at them while he spoke, but I did not venture to look at mymother. Her eyes have a way of twinkling when the Archdeacon is athis best which always upsets me. The Archdeacon, his face still raisedtoward the large battle picture, added that there is nothing finerthan the service of one's country, nothing more inspiring for a man andnothing more likely to lead to fame. I felt at the time that this isvery likely to be true in the case of any one who has a country toserve. I, unfortunately, have none. The recent developments of Irishlife, the revivals of various kinds, the books which people keep onwriting, and the general atmosphere of the country have robbed me andothers like me of the belief, held comfortably by our fathers, that weare Englishmen. On the other hand, nobody, least of all the patrioticpoliticians who make speeches, will admit that we are Irish. We arethus, without any fault of our own, left poised in a state of quiveringuncertainty like the poor Samaritans whom the Jews despised as Gentilesand the Gentiles did not like because they seemed to be Jews. I foundit difficult, while I listened to the Archdeacon, to decide whatcountry had a claim on me for service. Perhaps Portugal--I was going toLisbon--would mark me for her own. 

For more than three years I saw nothing of Lalage. My holidays, snatchedwith difficulty from a press of ridiculously unimportant duties, nevercorresponded with hers. I heard very little of her. The Canon neverwrote to me at all about Lalage or anything else. My mother merelychronicled her scholastic successes, which included several prizes forEnglish composition. 

The one really interesting piece of information which I got abouther came, curiously enough, from the Archdeacon. He wrote to me for asubscription to a fund for something, rebuilding the bishop's palaceI think. At the end of his letter he mentioned an incident in Lalage'scareer which he described as deplorable. It appeared that a clergyman, aman of some eminence according to the Archdeacon and so, presumably, notthe original curate had set an examination paper intended to test thereligious knowledge of Lalage and others. In it he quoted some wordsfrom one of St Paul's epistles: "I keep my body under and have itin subjection, " and asked what they meant. Lalage submitted a novelinterpretation. "St. Paul, " she wrote, "is here speaking of thatmystical body which is the Church. It ought always to be kept under andhad in subjection. "

As a diplomatist--I suppose I am a diplomatist of a minor kind--whoselot is cast among the Latin peoples, I am inclined to think thatLalage's interpretation may one day be universally accepted as the trueone and so honoured with the crown of orthodoxy. It would even to-daystrike a Portuguese journalist as a simple statement of an obvioustruth. The Archdeacon regarded it as deplorable, and I understood fromhis letter that the old charge of flippancy had been revived againstLalage. She must, I suppose, have disliked the man who set theexamination paper. I cannot otherwise account for the viciouslyanti-clerical spirit of her answer. 

The next important news I got of Lalage reached me in the spring of thefourth year I spent in the service of somebody else's country. It camein a letter from Lalage herself, written on paper headed by the lettersA. T. R. S. Embossed in red. She wrote:

"You'll be glad to hear that I entered Trinity College last October andsince then have been enjoying 'the spacious times of great Elizabeth. 'Our society, girls, is called the Elizabethan. That's the point of thequotation. "

I glanced at the head of the paper, but failed to see how A. T. R. S. Couldpossibly stand for Elizabethan Society. Lalage's letter continued:

"There is nothing equal to a university life for broadening out the mindand enlarging one's horizon. I have just founded a new society calledthe A. T. R. S. , and the committee (Hilda, myself, and a boy calledSelby-Harrison, who got a junior ex: and is _very_ clever) is on thelookout for members, subscription--a year, paid in advance, or lifemembers one pound. Our object is to check by every legitimate means thespread of tommyrot in this country and the world generally. There is agreat deal too much of it and something ought to be done to make peoplejolly well ashamed of themselves before it is too late. If the matteris not taken in hand vigorously the country will be submerged and allsensible people will die. "

I began to get at the meaning of the red letters. T. R. S. Plainly stoodfor Tommy Rot Society. The preliminary "A" could indicate nothing elsebut the particle anti. The prospect before us, if Lalage is anything ofa judge, and I suppose she must be, is sufficiently serious to justifythe existence of the society. 

"Each member of the committee is pledged to expose in the press bymeans of scathing articles, and thus hound out of public life any man, whatever his position, who is caught talking tommyrot. This will be doneanonymously, so as to establish a reign of terror under which no man ofany eminence will feel safe. The committee intends to begin with bishopsof all denominations. I thought this would interest you now that you arean ambassador and engaged in fostering international complications. "

I read this with a feeling of discomfort similar to that of thegentleman who set the examination paper on St. Paul's epistles. There, seemed to me to be a veiled threat in the last sentence. The committeeintended to begin with bishops, but there cannot be above sixty orseventy bishops in Ireland altogether, even including the ex-moderatorsof the Presbyterian General Assembly, not more than a hundred. Anenergetic committee would certainly be able to deal with them in lessthan three months. Whose turn would come next? Quite possibly thediplomatists. I do not particularly object to the prospect of beinghounded out of public life by means of scathing articles; but I feelthat I should not be the only victim. Some of the others would certainlyresent Lalage's action and then there would be a fuss. I have alwayshated fuss of any kind. 

"Only members of the committee are expected to take part in the activepropaganda of the society. Ordinary members merely subscribe. I amsending this appeal to father, Lord Thormanby, Miss Battersby, who isstill there, and the Archdeacon, as well as to you. "

I breathed a sigh of great relief. Lalage was not threatening mycolleagues with exposure in the press. 

She was merely asking for a subscription. I wrote at once, warmlycommending the objects and methods of the society. I enclosed a chequefor five pounds with a request that I should be enrolled as fiveordinary life members. I underlined the word ordinary, and added apostscript in which I expressly refused to act on the committee even ifelected. Lalage did not answer this letter or acknowledge the cheque. Isuppose the bishops kept her very busy. 

In August that year I met Lalage again for the first time since I hadseen her off to school from the station at Drumbo. I did not recognizeher at first. Four years make a great difference in a girl when she ispassing from the age of fourteen onward. Besides, I was not in the leastexpecting to see her. 

Mont 'Estoril is a watering place near the mouth of the Tagus. In spiteof the fact that some misguided people advertise its attractions andcall it the Riviera of Portugal, it is a pleasant spot to live in whenLisbon is very hot. There are several excellent hotels there and I havefound it a good plan to migrate from the capital and settle down in Mont'Estoril for June, July and August. I have to go into Lisbon every day, but this is no great hardship, for there is a convenient train service. I usually catch what the Portuguese call a train of "great velocity" andarrive at the Caes da Sodre railway station a few minutes after eleveno'clock. From that I go, partly on foot, partly in a tram, to theembassy and spend my time there in the usual way. 

One morning--I have kept a note of the date; it was the ninth ofAugust--I saw a large crowd of people, plainly tourists, standingtogether on the footpath, waiting for a tram. The sight was commonenough. Every ten days or so an enterprising steamboat company lands abevy of these worthy people in Lisbon. This crowd was a little largerthan usual. It was kept together by three guides who were in charge ofthe party and who galloped, barking furiously, along the outskirts ofthe herd whenever a wild or frightened tourist made any attempt to breakaway. On the opposite side of the road were two young girls. One ofthem, very prettily dressed in bright blue, was adjusting a hand camerawith the intention of photographing the tourists and attendant watchdogguides. She did not succeed, because one of the guides recognized heras a member of his flock and crossed the road to where she stood. I knowthe man slightly. He is a cosmopolitan, a linguist of great skill, whospeaks good English, with Portuguese suavity of manner, in times ofcalm, but bad English, with French excitability of gesture, when he isannoyed. He reasoned, most politely I'm sure, with the two girls. Hewanted them to cross the road and take their places among the othertourists. The girl in blue handed the camera to her companion, tookthe cosmopolitan guide by the shoulders, pushed him across the road andposed him in a picturesque attitude on the outskirts of the crowd. Thenshe went back to take her picture. The guide, of course, followed her, and I could see by the vehemence of his shrugs and gesticulations thathis temper had given way. I guessed that his English must have beenalmost unintelligible. The scene interested me and I stood still to seehow it would end. The girl in the blue dress changed her intention andtried to photograph the excited interpreter while he gesticulated. Isympathized with her wish. His attitudes were all well worth preserving. If she had been armed with phonograph as well as a camera she might havesecured a really valuable record. The man, to my knowledge, speaks eightlanguages, all equally badly, and when he mixes them he is well worthlistening to. In order to get him into focus the girl in the blue dresskept backing away from him, holding the camera level and gazing into theview finder. The man, gesticulating more wildly than ever, followedher. She moved more and more rapidly away from him until at last shewas proceeding backward along the street at a rapid trot. In the end shebumped against me. I staggered and clutched at my hat. She turned, and, without appearing in the least put out, began to apologize. Then herface lit with a sudden smile of recognition. 

"Oh, " she said, "it's you?"

I recognized the voice and then the face. I also retained my presence ofmind. 

"Begging a person's pardon, " I said, "when we tread on their toes is apolite and reasonable thing to do. "

Lalage may have recognized the quotation, although I do not think I hadit quite right. She certainly smiled agreeably. But she had no time towaste on exchanging reminiscences. 

"Just make that idiot stand where he is for a moment, " she said, "tillI get him photographed. I wouldn't miss him for pounds. He's quiteunique. "

The interpreter protested volubly in Portuguese mixed with Spanish andFrench. He was, so he told me, placed in charge of the tourists by thesteamboat company which had brought them to Lisbon. If one of them gotlost he would have to answer for it, answer for it with his head, andthe senora, the two exceedingly headstrong senoras, would get lostunless they could be penned in with the rest of his flock. 

I glanced at Lalage several times while the interpreter harangued us, and noticed that she had grown into an extremely pretty girl. She, itseemed, was also taking stock of me. 

"You've improved, " she said. "Your moustache has broadened out. If thatmonkey on a stick won't be photographed I wish you'd hunt him away outof this. I don't know any Portuguese swears or I'd do it myself. "

I explained to the interpreter that he need be under no anxiety aboutthe headstrong senoras. I myself would be responsible for them, andwould, if necessary, answer for their safety with my head. He departed, doubtful and ill content. He was probably satisfied that I was capableof looking after Laiage, but he dreaded the effect of her example on therest of his flock. They too might escape. 

"This, " said Lalage, leading me up to the other girl, who wore a pinkdress, "is Hilda. You've heard of Hilda. "

Hilda's name was printed on my memory. She is one of the three membersof the committee of the A. T. R. S. I shook hands with her and asked forSelby-Harrison. 

"You haven't surely, " I said, "come without Selby-Harrison, who won thejunior ex. ? The committee ought to hold together. "

"We intended to bring him, " said Lalage, "but there were difficulties. The Archdeacon heard about it----"

"That Archdeacon again!" I said. 

"And told father that it wouldn't do at all. Did you ever hear suchnonsense? I shouldn't have minded that, but Hilda's mother struck too. It ended in our having to bring poor old Pussy with us as chaperon. "

"Pussy?"

"Yes, The original Cat, Miss Battersby. You can't have forgotten her, surely? It happened that she was getting her holidays just as we hadarranged to start, so we took her instead of Selby-Harrison, whichsatisfied the Archdeacon and Hilda's mother. "

"I am so glad to hear you call her 'Pussy' now, " I said-"I always hopedyou would. "

"She's really not a bad sort, " said Lalage, "when you get to know her. She did us very little harm on the steamer. She was sick the wholeway out, so we just put her in the top berth of our cabin and left herthere. "

"Is she there still?"

Hilda giggled. Lalage looked slightly annoyed. 

"Of course not, " she said. "We aren't cruel. We hauled her out thismorning and dressed her. It was rather a job but we did it. We took herashore with us--each holding one arm, for she was frightfully staggeryat first--and made her smuggle our cigarettes for us through thecustom-house. No one would suspect her of having cigarettes. By the way, she has them still. They're in a large pocket which I sewed on theinside of her petticoat. She's over there in the crowd. Would you verymuch mind getting----?"

"I couldn't possibly, " I said hastily. "She'd be almost certain toobject, especially with all those people standing round. You must waittill you get to an hotel and then undress her again yourselves. "

"Don't be an ass, " said Lalage. "I don't want you to get the cigarettes. I want you to rescue Pussy herself. It wouldn't be at all fair to allowher to be swept away in that crowd. We'd never see her again. "

I did not much care for undertaking this task either, though it wascertainly easier than the other. The polyglot guide would, I felt sure, deeply resent the rape of another of his charges. 

"Couldn't Hilda do that?" I said. "After all, she's a member of thecommittee. I'm not. And you told me distinctly that ordinary memberswere not expected to do anything except subscribe. "

"Go on, Hilda, " said Lalage. 

I suppose Lalage must be president of the A. T. R. S. And be possessedof autocratic powers. Hilda crossed the road without a murmur. Selby-Harrison, I have no doubt, would have acted in the same way if hehad been here. 

"And now, Lalage, " I said, "you must tell me what brings you toPortugal. "

"To see you, " said Lalage promptly. 

"It's very nice of you to say that, " I said, "and I feel greatlyflattered. "

"Hilda was all for Oberammergau, and Selby-Harrison wanted Normandy. He said there were churches and things there but I think churches arerather rot, don't you?"

"Besides, " I said, "after the way the society has been treating bishopsit would hardly be decent to accept their hospitality by wandering aboutthrough their churches. Any bishop, especially if he'd been driven outof public life by a series of scathing articles, published anonymously, would have a genuine grievance if you----"

"It was really that which decided us on coming here, " said Lalage. 

"Quite right. There is a most superior kind of bishop here, a Patriarch, and I am sure that anything you publish about him in the Portuguesepapers----"

"You don't understand what I mean. You're getting stupid, I think. I'mnot talking about bishops. I'm talking about you. "

"Don't bother about taking up my case until you've quite finished thebishops. I am a young man still, with years and years before me in whichI shall no doubt talk a lot of tommyrot. It would be a pity to driveme out of public life before I've said anything which you can reallyscathe. "

"We thought, " said Lalage, "that as it didn't much matter to us where wewent we might as well come out to see you. You were the only person whogave a decent 'sub' to the society. I'll explain our new idea to youlater on. "

"I'm very glad I did, " I said. "If another fiver would bringSelby-Harrison by the next steamer--Hullo! Here's Hilda back with MissBattersby. I hardly thought she'd have succeeded in getting her. How doyou do, Miss Battersby? I'm delighted to welcome you to Lisbon, and Imust do my best for you now you're here. I'm quite at your disposal forthe day. "

Miss Battersby smiled feebly. She had not yet recovered from the effectsof the sea voyage. 

"First, " said Lalage, "we'll go to an hotel. "

"Of course, " I said, "to get the cigarettes. "

"No, " said Lalage; "to let Miss Battersby get to bed. She wants to getto bed, doesn't she, Hilda?"

Hilda, who was supporting Miss Battersby, and so in a position to judgeof her condition, nodded. 

"She's frightfully weak, " said Lalage to me, "on account of not havingeaten anything except two water biscuits and an apple for nearly aweek. "

"In that case, " I said, "a little luncheon----"

"Could you eat luncheon?" said Lalage to Miss Battersby. 

Miss Battersby seemed to wish to try. 

"Could she, Hilda?" said Lalage. "It's a long time since she has. "

"She must make a beginning some day, " I said. 

"I still think she'd be better in bed, " said Lalage. 

"After lunch, " I said firmly, "You ought not to be vindictive, Lalage. It's a long time since that trouble about the character of Mary. "

"I'm not thinking of that, " said Lalage. 

"And she's not a bishop. Why should you starve her?"

"Very well, " said Lalage. "Do whatever you like, but don't blame meafterward if she's---- she was, on the steamer, horribly. "

We fed Miss Battersby on some soup, a fragment of fried fish and a glassof light wine. She evidently wanted to eat an omelette as well, butLalage forbade this. Whether she was actually put to bed afterward ormerely laid down I do not know. She must have been at least partiallyundressed, for Lalage and Hilda were plentifully supplied withcigarettes during the afternoon. 

CHAPTER VI

Lalage, Hilda, and I went for a drive in one of the attractive carriageswhich ply for hire in the Lisbon streets. We drove up one side of theAvenida de Liberdade and down the other. I did the duty of a goodcicerone by pointing out the fountains, trees and other objects ofinterest which Lalage and Hilda were sure to see for themselves. When wehad exhausted the Avenida I suggested going on to Belem. Lalage did notseem pleased. She said that driving was not her idea of pleasure. Shewanted something more active and exciting. I agreed. 

"We'll go in a tram, " I said. 

"Where to?"

"Belem. "

"Belem's a church, isn't it, Hilda?"

Hilda and I both admitted that it was. 

"Then we can't go there, " said Lalage decidedly. 

"Why not?" I ventured to ask. 

"You said yourself that it wouldn't be decent. "

"Oh!" I said, "you're thinking of those poor bishops; but you haven'tdone anything to the Portuguese patriarch yet. Besides, only half ofBelem is a church. The other half is a school, quite secular. "

"The only things I really want to see, " said Lalage, "are the deadPortuguese kings in glass cases. "

"The what?"

"The dead kings. Stuffed, I suppose. Do you mean to say you've been herenearly four years and don't yet know the way they keep their kings, like natural history specimens in a museum? Why, that was the very firstthing Hilda found out in the guide book. "

"I didn't, " said Hilda. "It was you. "

"Let's credit Selby-Harrison with the discovery, " I said soothingly. "Iremember now about those kings. But the exhibition has been closed tothe public now for some years. We shan't be able to get in. "

"What's the use of being an ambassador, " said Lalage, "if you can'tstep in to see a dead king whenever you like?"

An ambassador may be able to claim audiences with deceased royalties, but I was not an ambassador. I offered Lalage as an alternative thenearest thing at my command to dead kings. 

"The English cemetery, " I said, "is considered one of the sights ofLisbon. If you are really interested in corpses we might go there. "

"I hate Englishmen, " said Lalage. "All Englishmen. "

"That's why I suggested their cemetery. It will be immensely gratifyingto you to realize what a lot of them have died. The place is nearly fulland there are lots of yew trees. "

Lalage did me the honour of laughing. Hilda, after a minute'sconsideration, also laughed. But they were not to be distracted from thedead kings. 

"We'll go back to the hotel, " said Lalage, "and rout out poor Pussy. She'll be wanting more food by this time. You can go and call on thepresent King or the Queen Mother, or whoever it is who keep the key ofthat mausoleum and then come back for us. By the way, before you go, just tell me the Portuguese for an ice. It's desperately hot. "

I told her and then got out of the carriage. I did not call upon eitherthe King or his mother. They were in Cintra, so I should not have hadtime to get at them even if I had wished. I saw my chief, and, with thefear of Lalage before my eyes, worried him until he gave me a letterto a high official. From him I obtained with great difficulty thepermission I wanted. I returned to the hotel. Miss Battersby, thoughrecovering rapidly, was still too feeble to accompany us; so Lalage, Hilda, and I set off without her. 

The dead kings were a disappointment. Hilda's nerve failed her onthe doorstep and she declined to go in. Lalage and I went through theexhibition alone. I observed, without surprise, that Lalage turned hereyes away from the objects she had come to inspect. I ventured, whenwe got out, to suggest that we might perhaps have spent a pleasanterafternoon at Belem. Lalage snubbed me sharply. 

"Certainly not, " she said. "I'm going in for the Vice-Chancellor's prizefor English verse next year and the subject is mortality. I shall simplyknock spots out of the other competitors when I work in those kings. 

 "'Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, '

You know the sort of thing I mean. "

"That's not original, " I said. "I remember it distinctly in the 'GoldenTreasury, ' though I have forgotten the author's name. "

"It wasn't meant to be original. I quoted it simply as an indication ofthe sort of line I mean to take in my poem. "

"You'll win the prize to a certainty. When you publish the poemafterward with notes I hope you'll mention my name. Without me youwouldn't have got at those kings. "

"In the meanwhile, " said Lalage, "I could do with some tea and anotherice. Couldn't you, Hilda?"

Hilda could and did. I took them to an excellent shop in the Rua Aurea, where Hilda had three ices and Lalage four, after tea. I only had one. Lalage twitted me with my want of appetite. 

"I can't eat any more. " I said. "The thought of poor Miss Battersbysitting alone in that stuffy hotel has spoiled my appetite. "

"The hotel is stuffy, " said Lalage. "Where are you stopping?"

I mentioned Mont 'Estoril and Lalage at once proposed to move her wholeparty out there. 

There were difficulties with the Lisbon hotel keeper, who wanted to bepaid for the beds which Lalage and Hilda had not slept in as well asfor that which Miss Battersby had enjoyed during the afternoon. Lalageargued with him in French, which he understood very imperfectly, and sheboasted afterward that she had convinced him of the unreasonableness ofhis demand. I, privately, paid his bill. 

There were also difficulties with Miss Battersby. She had, so Hilda toldme, the strongest possible objection to putting on her clothes again. But Lalage was determined. In less than an hour after our return to thehotel I was sitting opposite to Miss Battersby, who was swathed ratherthan dressed, in a railway carriage, speeding along the northern shoreof the Tagus estuary. 

I had, early in the summer, made friends with a Mr. And Mrs Dodds, who were living in my hotel. Mr. Dodds was a Glasgow merchant and wasconducting the Portuguese side of his firm's business. Mrs. Dodds wasa native of Paisley. They were both very fond of bridge, and I had gotinto the habit of playing with them every evening. We depended on chancefor a fourth member of our party, and just at the time of Lalage's visitwere particularly fortunate in securing a young English engineer who wasinstalling a service of electric light somewhere in the neighbourhood. The Doddses were friendly people and I had gradually come to entertaina warm regard for them in spite of the extreme severity of their bridgeand Mrs. Dodds's habit of speaking plainly about my mistakes. I wouldnot, except under great pressure, cause any inconvenience or annoyanceto the Doddses. But Lalage is great pressure. When she said that I wasto spend the evening talking to her I saw at once that the bridge mustbe sacrificed. My plan was to apologize profusely to the Doddses, andleave them condemned for one evening to sit bridgeless till bedtime. But Lalage would not hear of this. She wanted, so she said, to talkconfidentially to me. Miss Battersby was an obstacle in her way, andso she ordered me to introduce Miss Battersby as my substitute at thebridge table. 

If Miss Battersby had acted reasonably and gone to bed either before orimmediately after dinner this would have been unnecessary. But she didnot. She became immoderately cheerful and was most anxious to enjoyherself. I set her down at the card table and then, as quickly aspossible, fled. Miss Battersby's bridge is of the most rudimentary andirritating kind and she has a conscientious objection to paying forthe small stakes which usually gave a brightness to our game. It wasnecessary for me to get out of earshot of the Doddses and the engineerbefore they discovered these two facts about Miss Battersby. I thoughtit probable that I should have to go to a new hotel next day in orderto escape the reproaches of my friends. But I did not want to move thatnight, so I went into the hotel garden, hustling Hilda before me. Therewas no need to hustle Lalage. She understood the need for haste evenbetter than I did. I knew Miss Battersby's capacity for bridge, havingoccasionally played with her in my uncle's house. Lalage understoodhow acutely the pain brought on by Miss Battersby's bridge would beaggravated by the deprecating sweetness of Miss Battersby's manner. Inthe hotel garden there were a number of chairs made, I expect, by a manwhose regular business in life was the manufacture of the old-fashionedstraw beehives. When forced by the introduction of the new wooden hivesto turn his hand to making chairs, he failed to shake himself free ofthe tradition of his proper art. His chairs were as like beehives as itis possible for chairs to be and anybody who sits back in one of themis surrounded on all sides by walls and overshadowed by a hood of wovenwicker-work. When Lalage sat down I could see no more of her than theglowing end of her cigarette and the toes of her shoes. Hilda was tothe same extent invisible. I was annoyed by this at first, for Lalageis very pretty to look at and the night was not so dark when we sat downbut that I could, had she been in any ordinary chair, have traced theoutline of her figure. Later on, when our conversation reached itsmost interesting point, I was thankful to recollect that I also was inobscurity. I am not, owing to my training as a diplomatist, an easy manto startle, but Lalage gave me a severe shock. I prefer to keep my facein the shadow when I am moved to unexpected emotion. 

"To-morrow, " I said pleasantly, by way of opening the conversation, "weshall have another long day's sight-seeing, mitigated with ices. "

"I'm sorry to say, " said Lalage, "that we go home to-morrow. The steamersails at 11 a. M. "

"Surely there can be no real need for such hurry. Now that we haveMiss Battersby among us the Archdeacon and Hilda's mother will be quitesatisfied. "

"It's not that in the least, " said Lalage. "Is it, Hilda?"

Hilda said something about return tickets, but Lalage snubbed her. Igathered that there was reason for precipitancy more serious than theby-laws of the steamboat company. 

"I am confident, " I said, "that Selby-Harrison is capable of carrying onthe work of exterminating bishops. "

"It's not that either, " said Lalage. "The fact is that we have cometo Lisbon on business, not for pleasure. You've probably guessed thatalready. "

"I feared it. Of the two reasons you gave me this morning for cominghere----"

"I haven't told you any reason yet, " said Lalage. 

"Excuse me, but when we first met this morning you said distinctly thatyou had come to see me. I hardly flattered myself that could really betrue. "

"It was, " said Lalage. "Quite true. "

"It's very kind of you to say so and of course I quite believe you, butthen you afterward gave me to understand that your real object was towork up the emotion caused by the appearance of a dead king with a viewto utilizing it to add intensity to a prize poem. That, of course, isbusiness of a very serious kind. That's why I meant to say a minute agothat of the two reasons you gave me for coming here the second was themore urgent. "

"Don't ramble in that way, " said Lalage. "It wastes time. Hilda, explainthe scheme which we have in mind at present. "

Hilda threw away the greater part of a cigarette and sat up in herbeehive. I do not think that Hilda enjoys smoking cigarettes. Sheprobably does it to impress the public with the genuine devotion toprinciple of the A. T. R. S. 

"The society, " said Hilda "has met with difficulties. Its objects----"

"He knows the objects, " said Lalage. "Don't you?"

"To expose in the public press----" I began. 

"That's just where we're stuck, " said Lalage. 

"Do you mean to tell me that the Irish newspapers have been soincredibly stupid as not to publish the articles sent by you, Hilda, andSelby-Harrison?"

"Not a single one of them, " said Lalage. 

"And the bishops, " I said, "still wear their purple stocks, theiraprons, and their gaiters; and still talk tommyrot through the lengthand breadth of the land. "

"But we're not the least inclined to give in, " said Lalage. 

"Don't, " I said. "Keep on pelting the editors with articles. Some dayone of them will be away from home and an inexperienced subordinate----"

"That would be no use, " said Hilda. 

"What we have determined to do, " said Lalage, "is to start a paper ofour own. "

"It ought, " I said, "to be a huge success. "

"I'm glad you agree with us there, " said Lalage. "We've gone into thematter minutely. Selby-Harrison worked it out and we don't see how wecould possibly make less than 12 per cent. Not that we want to makemoney out of it. Our efforts are purely--what's that word, Hilda? Youfound it in a book, but I always forget it. "

"Altruistic, " said Hilda. 

"You understand that, I suppose?" said Lalage to me. 

"Yes, " I said, "I do. But I wasn't thinking of the financial side of theenterprise when I spoke of its being an immense success. What I had inmind----"

"Finance, " said Lalage severely, "cannot possibly be ignored. "

"All we want, " said Hilda, "is some one to guarantee the workingexpenses for the first three months. "

"And I said, " added Lalage, "that you'd do it if we came out here andasked you. "

I recollected hearing of an Englishman who started a daily paper whichafterward failed and it was said that he lost £300, 000 by the venture. Ihesitated. 

"What we ask, " said Lalage, "is not money, but a guarantee, and we arewilling to pay 8 per cent, to whoever does it. The difference betweena guarantee and actual money is that in the one case you will probablynever have to pay at all, while in the other you will have to fork outat once. "

"Am I, " I asked, "to get 8 per cent, on what I don't give, but merelypromise?"

"That's what it comes to, " said Lalage. "I call it a good offer. "

"It's one of the most generous I ever heard, " I said. "May I ask ifSelby-Harrison----?"

"It was his suggestion, " said Hilda. "Neither Lalage nor I are any goodat sums, specially decimals. "

"And, " said Lalage, "you'll get a copy of each number post free just thesame as if you were a regular subscriber!"

"We've got one advertiser already, " said Hilda. 

"And, " said Lalage, "advertisments pay the whole cost of newspapersnowadays. Any one who knows anything about the business side of thepress knows that. Selby-Harrison met a man the other day who reportsfootball matches and he said so. "

"Is it cocoa, " I asked, "or soap, or hair restorer?"

"No. It's a man who wants to buy second-hand feather beds. I can'timagine what he means to do with them when he gets them, but that's hisbusiness. We needn't worry ourselves so long as he pays us. "

"Lalage, " I said, "and Hilda, I am so thoroughly convinced of yourenergy and enterprise, I feel so sure of Selby-Harrison's financialability and I am so deeply in sympathy with the objects of your, mayI say our, society, that if I possessed £300, 000 you should have itto-morrow; but, owing to, recent legislation affecting Irish land, theever-increasing burden of income tax and the death duties----"

"Don't start rambling again, " said Lalage. "It isn't in the least funny, and we're both beginning to get sleepy. Nobody wants £300, 000. "

"It takes that, " I said, "to run a newspaper. "

"What we want, " said Lalage, "is thirty pounds, guaranteed--ten pounds amonth for three months. All you have to do is to sign a paper----"

"Did Selby-Harrison draw up the paper?"

"Yes. And Hilda has it upstairs in her trunk. "

"That's enough, " I said. "Anything Selby-Harrison has drawn up I'llsign. Perhaps, Hilda, you'll be good enough--I wouldn't trouble you if Iknew where to find it myself. "

"Get it, Hilda, " said Lalage. 

Hilda struggled out of her beehive and immediately stumbled into a bedof stocks. It had become very dark while we talked, but I think thescent of the flowers might have warned her of her danger. I picked herup carefully and set her on the path. 

"Perhaps, " I said, "you won't mind taking off your shoes as you crossthe hall outside the drawing-room. Mr. And Mrs. Dodds must have foundout about Miss Battersby's bridge by this time. "

I think Hilda winked. I did not actually see her wink. It was too darkto see anything; but there was a feeling in the air as if somebodywinked and Lalage had nothing to wink about. 

"If, " I added, "they rush out and catch you, they will certainly askyou where I am. You must be prepared for that. Would you very much mindexaggerating a little, just for once?"

This time Hilda giggled audibly. 

"You might say that Lalage and I had gone for a long walk and that youdo not know when we will be back. "

"That wouldn't be true, " said Lalage, "so of course it can't be said. "

"We can easily make it true, " I said. "I don't want to go for a walkat this time of night and I'm sure you don't, after the exhausting dayyou've had--but rather than put Hilda in an awkward position and set herconscience gnawing at her during the night we might start at once, nottelling Hilda when we'll be back. "

"All right, " said Lalage. "Pussy will fuss afterward of course. But----"

"I entirely forgot Miss Battersby, " I said. "She would fuss to acertainty. She might write to the Archdeacon. After all, Hilda, you'llhave to chance it with your shoes off. But for goodness' sake don'tsneeze or fall or anything of that sort just outside the door. "

Hilda returned in about ten minutes. She told us that she whistled"Annie Laurie" on her way upstairs so as to give any one who might hearher the impression that she was the boy employed by the hotel proprietorto clean boots. The ruse, a brilliantly original one, was entirelysuccessful. The bridge party, as I learned next day, including MissBattersby, had gone to bed early. They did not play very much bridge. Hilda brought Selby-Harrison's form of guarantee with her. It waswritten on a sheet of blue foolscap paper and ornamented with a pennystamp, necessary, so a footnote informed me, because the sum of moneyinvolved was more than two pounds. I signed it with a fountain pen bythe light of a wax match which Lalage struck on the sole of her shoe andobligingly held so that it did not quite burn my hair. 

CHAPTER VII

It is only very gradually that one comes to appreciate Lalage. I hadknown her since she was quite a small child. I even recollect herinsisting upon my wheeling her perambulator once when I was a schoolboy, and naturally resented such an indignity. Yet I had failed to realizethe earnestness and vigour of her character. I did not expect anythingto come of the guarantee which I had signed for her. I might andought to have known better; but I was in fact greatly surprised when Ireceived by post the first copy of the _Anti-Tommy-Rot Gazette_. It wasnot a very large publication, but it contained more print than I shouldhave thought obtainable for the sum of ten pounds. Besides the title ofthe magazine and a statement that this issue was Vol. I, No. I. , therewas a picture of a young lady, clothed like the goddess Diana in theillustrations of the classical dictionary, who was urging on severallarge dogs of most ferocious appearance. In the distance, evidentlyterrified by the dogs, were three animals of no recognized species, but very disgusting in appearance, which bore on their sides the words"Tommy Rot. " The huntress was remarkably like Hilda in appearance andthe initials "L. B. " at the bottom left-hand corner of the picture toldme that the artist was Lalage herself. One of the dogs was a highlyidealized portrait of a curly haired retriever belonging to my mother. The objects of the chase I did not recognize as copies of any beastsknown to me; though there was something in the attitude of the worst ofthem which reminded me slightly of the Archdeacon. I never heard whatHilda's mother thought of this picture. If she is the kind of woman Iimagine her to be she probably resented the publication of a portrait ofher daughter dressed in a single garment only and that decidedly shorterthan an ordinary night dress. 

Opening the magazine at page one, I came upon an editorial article. Therapid increase of the habit of talking tommyrot was dwelt upon and thenecessity for prompt action was emphasized. The objects of the societywere set forth with a naked directness, likely, I feared, to causeoffence. Then came a paragraph, most disquieting to me, in whichthe generous gentleman whose aid had rendered the publication of themagazine possible was subjected to a good deal of praise. His namewas not actually mentioned, but he was described as a distinguisheddiplomatist well known in an important continental court. This made meuneasy. There are not very many distinguished diplomatists who wouldfinance a magazine of the kind. I felt that suspicion would fastenalmost at once upon me, in the event of there being any kind of publicinquiry. Next to the editorial article came a page devoted on one sideentirely to the advertisement of the gentleman who wanted second-handfeather beds. The other side of it was announced as "To Let, " and theattention of advertisers was called to the unique opportunity offeredto them of making their wishes known to an intelligent and progressivepublic. After that came the bishops. 

Each bishop had at least half a page to himself. Some had much more, theamount of space devoted to them being apparently regulated in accordancewith the enormity of their offences. There was a note in italics at theend of each indictment which ran thus:

"All inquirers after the original sources of the information used inthis article are requested to apply to J. Selby-Harrison, Esq. , 175Trinity College, Dublin, by whom the research in the columns of thedaily papers has been conducted with much ability and disinteresteddiscretion. P. S. --J. Selby-Harrison has in all cases preserved notes ofthe dates, etc. , for purposes of verification. " The working up of thematerial thus collected was without doubt done by Lalage. I recognizedher style. Hilda probably corrected the proof. 

In the letter which Lalage wrote to me at the time of the founding ofthe A. T. R. S. She spoke of university life as broadening the mind andenlarging the horizon. Either Oxford in this respect is inferior toTrinity College, Dublin, or else my mind has narrowed again since I tookmy degree and my horizon has shrunk. I did not feel that the episcopalpronouncements quoted deserved the eminence to which Lalage promotedthem. They struck me as being simply commonplace. I had grown quiteaccustomed to them and had come to regard them as proper and naturalthings for bishops to say. For instance, the very first paragraph inthis pillory of Lalage's was devoted to a bishop, I forget his name andterritorial title, who had denounced Sir Walter Scott's "Ivanhoe. " Someevil-minded person had put forward this novel as a suitable readingbook for Irish boys and girls in secondary schools, and the bishop hadobjected strongly. Lalage was cheerfully contemptuous of him. Withoutmyself sharing his feeling, I can quite understand that he may havefound it his duty to protest against the deliberate encouragement ofsuch dangerous reading; and it is seldom right to laugh at a man fordoing his duty. I read "Ivanhoe" when I was a boy and I distinctlyremember that at least one eminent ecclesiastic is presented in a mostunfavourable light. If Irish boys and girls got into the way of thinkingof twelfth-century priors as gay dogs, the step onward to actualdisrespect for contemporary bishops would be quite a short one. 

There was another bishop (he appeared a few pages further on in the_Gazette_) who objected to the education of boys and girls under sevenyears of age in the same infant schools. He said that this mixing ofthe sexes would destroy the beautiful modesty of demeanour whichdistinguishes Irish girls from those of other nations. Lalage pokedfun at this man for a page and a half. I hesitate to say that she wasactually wrong. My own experience of infant schools is very small. Ionce went into one, but I did not stay there for more than five minutes, hardly long enough to form an opinion about the wholesomeness of themoral atmosphere. But in this case again I can enter into the feelingsof the bishop. He probably knows, having once been six years oldhimself, that all boys of that age are horrid little beasts. He alsoknows--he distinctly says so in the pastoral quoted by Lalage--that thecharm of maidenhood is a delicate thing, comparable to the bloom on apeach or the gloss on a butterfly's wings. Even Miss Battersby, whomust know more about girls than any bishop, felt that Lalage had lostsomething not to be regained when she became intimate enough with TomKitterick to rub glycerine and cucumber into his cheeks. 

Lalage was, in my opinion, herself guilty of something very like the sinof tommyrot when she mocked another bishop for a sermon he had preachedon "Empire Day. " He said that wherever the British flag flies there isliberty for subject peoples and several other obviously true things ofthe same kind. I do not see what else, under the circumstances, the poorman could say. Nor do I blame him in the least for boldly demanding morebattleships to carry something--I think he said the Gospel--to stillremoter lands. Lalage chose to pretend that liberty and subjection arecontradictory terms, but this is plainly absurd. Lord Thormanby talkedover this part of the _Gazette_ with me some months later and gave itas his opinion that a man whom he knew in the club had put the case verywell by saying that there are several quite distinct kinds of liberty. 

I found myself still more puzzled by Lalage's attitude toward anotherman who was not even, strictly speaking, a bishop. He was a moderator, or an ex-moderator, of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church. He had made a speech in which he set forth reasons why he and otherslike him should have a recognized place in the vice-regal court. I amnot myself passionately fond of vice-regal courts, but I know that manypeople regard them with great reverence, and I do not see why a manshould be laughed at for wanting to walk through the state rooms inDublin Castle in front of somebody else. It is a harmless, perhaps alaudable, ambition. Lalage chose to see something funny in it, and I ambound to say that when I had finished her article I too began to catch aglimpse of the amusing side of it. 

I spent a long time over the _Gazette_. The more I read it the greatermy perplexity grew. Many things which I had accepted for years as solemnand necessary parts of the divine ordering of the world were suddenlyseized, contorted, and made to grin like apes. I felt disquieted, inclined, and yet half afraid, to laugh. I was rendered acutelyuncomfortable by an editorial note which followed the last jibe at thelast bishop: "The next number of the _Anti-Tommy-Rot Gazette_ willdeal with politicians and may be expected to be lively. Subscribe atonce. --Ed. "

I was so profoundy distrustful of my own judgment in delicate mattersthat I determined to find out if I could what Dodds thought of Lalage'sopinions. Dodds is preeminently a man of the world, very sound, unemotional and full of common sense. I did not produce the _Gazette_ ormention Lalage's name, for Dodds has had a prejudice against her sincethe evening on which he played bridge with Miss Battersby. Nor did Imake a special business of asking his advice. I waited until we satdown to bridge together after dinner and then I put a few typical casesbefore him in casual tones, as if they were occurring to me at themoment. 

"Dodds, " I said, holding the cards in my hand, "supposing that a bishopfor whom you always had a respect on account of the dignity of hisoffice, were to say----"

"I wouldn't have any respect for a bishop on account of his office, "said Dodds. "Why don't you deal?"

"We're Presbyterians, " said Mrs. Dodds. 

"That needn't prevent you considering this case, for the word bishopis here used--that is to say, I am using it--to mean any eminentecclesiastic. All right, I'm dealing as fast as I can. Supposing that aman of that kind, call him a bishop or anything else you like, were tosay that boys and girls ought not to read 'Ivanhoe' on account of thedanger to their faith and morals contained in that book, would you orwould you not say that he, the bishop, not 'Ivanhoe, ' was talking whatin ordinary slang is called tommyrot?"

I finished dealing and, after glancing rather inattentively at my cards, declared hearts. 

Dodds, who was sitting on my left, picked up his hand and doubled myhearts. He did so in a tone that convinced me that I had been rash inmy declaration. He paid no attention whatever to my question about thebishop and "Ivanhoe. " It turned out that he had a remarkably good handand he scored thirty-two below the line, which of course gave him thegame. Mrs. Dodds, who was my partner, seemed temporarily soured, andwhile Dodds was explaining to us how well he had played, she took up thequestion about the bishop. 

"I'd be thinking, " she said, "that that bishop of yours had very littleto do to be talking that way. I'd say he'd be the kind of man who'ddeclare hearts with no more than one honour on his hand and that thequeen. "

This rather nettled me, for I quite realized that my hand did notjustify a heart declaration. I had made it inadvertently my mind beingoccupied with more important matters. 

"Of course, " I said, "you're prejudiced in favour of Sir Walter Scott. You Scotch are all the same. A word against Sir Walter or RobbieBurns is enough for you. But I'll put another case to you: Supposing abishop--understanding the word as I've explained it--were to say thatinfant schools are a danger to public morality on account of the waythat boys and girls are mixed up together in the same classrooms, wouldhe, in your opinion----?"

Dodds has a horribly coarse mind. He stopped dealing and grinned. Thenhe winked at the young engineer who sat opposite to him. He, I waspleased to see, had the grace to look embarrassed. Mrs. Dodds, who ofcourse knows how her husband revels in anything which can be twistedinto impropriety, interrupted me with a question asked in a very bitingtone. 

"Is it chess you think you are playing the now, or is it bridge?"

I had to let the next deal pass without any further attempt to discoverDodds's opinion about tommyrot. I was trying to think out what Mrs. Dodds meant by accusing me of wanting to play chess. It struck me asan entirely gratuitous and, using the word in its original sense, impertinent suggestion. Nothing I had said seemed in any way to implythat I was thinking of chess. As a matter of fact, I detest the game andnever play it. I suppose I am slow-witted, but it did not occur to mefor quite a long time, that, being a Scotch Presbyterian, the mentionof bishops was more likely to call up to her mind the pieces which sidleobliquely across a chessboard than living men of lordly degree. I wasnot sure in the end that I had tracked her thought correctly, but Iknow that I made several bad mistakes during the next and the followinghands. 

When it worked round to my turn to deal again I gave out the cards veryslowly and made another attempt to find out whether Dodds did or did notagree with Lalage about tommyrot. 

"Supposing, " I said, "that a clergyman, an ordinary clergyman, nota bishop, the kind of clergyman whom you would perhaps describe as aminister, were to preach a sermon about the British Empire and were tosay----"

"In our church, " said Mrs. Dodds snappily, "the ministers preach theGospel. "

"I am convinced of that, " I said, "but you must surely admit that thegreat idea of the imperial expansion of the race, Greater Britain beyondthe seas, and--the White Man's Burden, and all that kind of thing, arenot essentially anti-evangelical, when looked at from the proper pointof view. Suppose, for instance, that our hypothetical clergyman were totake for his text----"

I laid down the last card in the pack on my own pile and lookedtriumphantly at Dodds. I had, at all events, not made a misdeal. Doddsput his hand down on his cards with a bang. He has large red hands, which swell out between the knuckles and at the wrists. I saw by theway his fingers were spread on the table that he was going to speakstrongly. I recollected then, when it was too late, that Dodds is anadvanced Radical and absolutely hates the idea of imperialism. I triedto diminish his wrath by slipping in an apologetic explanation before hefound words to express his feelings. 

"The clergyman I mean, " I said, "isn't--he's purely imaginary, but ifhe had any real existence he wouldn't belong to your church. He'd be abishop. "

"He'd better, " said Dodds grimly. 

I felt so much depressed that I declared spades at once. I gatheredfrom the tone in which he spoke that if the clergyman who preachedimperialism came within the jurisdiction of Dodds, or for the matterof that of Mrs. Dodds, it would be the worse for him. By far hisbest chance of a peaceful life was to be a bishop and not to live inScotland. This was a great deal worse than Lalage's way of treating him. She merely sported, pursuing him with gay ridicule, mangling his petquotations, smiling at his swelling rotundities. Dodds would have senthim to the stake without an opportunity for recantation. 

I lost altogether seven shillings during the evening, which representsa considerable run of bad luck, for we never played for more than ashilling for each hundred points. Mrs. Dodds, of course, lost thesame amount. I tried to make it up to her next day by sending her, anonymously, six pairs of gloves. She must have known that they camefrom me for she was very gracious and friendly next evening. But for along time afterward Dodds used to annoy her by proposing to talk aboutbishops and infant schools whenever she happened to be my partner. 

CHAPTER VIII

A week passed without my hearing anything from home about Lalage's_Gazette_. My mother's weekly letter--she wrote regularly every Sundayafternoon--contained nothing but the usual chronicle of minor events. Ihad no other regular correspondent. The Archdeacon had written me elevenletters since I left home, all of them dealing with church finance andasking for subscriptions. Canon Beresford never wrote to me at all. Iwas beginning to hope that the _Anti-Tommy-Rot Gazette_ had failed tocatch the eye--ought I to say the ear?--of the public. This wouldof course be a disappointment to Lalage, perhaps also to Hilda andSelby-Harrison, but it would be a great relief to me. The more I thoughtof it the more I disliked the idea of being identified with the generousgentleman whose timely aid had rendered the publication possible. 

My hopes were shattered by the arrival of no less than six letters byone post. One of them was addressed in my mother's writing, and I fearedthe worst when I saw it. It was quite the wrong day for a letter fromher, and I knew that nothing except a serious disaster would induceher to break through her regular rule of Sunday writing. Another ofthe letters came from the Archdeacon. I knew his hand. Two of the otherenvelopes bore handwritings which I did not recognize. The addresses ofthe remaining two were typewritten. I turned them all over thoughtfullyand decided to open my mother's first. She made no attempt to soften theshock I suffered by breaking her news to me gradually. 

"Lalage appears to have excelled herself in her latest escapade. I onlyheard about it this morning and have not had time to verify the detailsof the story; but I think it better to write to you at once in case youshould hear an exaggerated version from some one else. "

My mother is very thoughtful and kind; but in this particular case, needlessly so. I was not in the least likely to hear an exaggeratedversion of Lalage's performance from any source; because no one inthe world, not even a politician, could exaggerate the truth about the_Anti-Tommy-Rot Gazette_. 

My mother went on:

"You appear to be mixed up in the affair, and, on the whole, I adviseyou to get out of it at once if you can. Your uncle, who takes thesematters very seriously, is greatly annoyed. Lalage appears to havepublished something, a pamphlet probably, but report says variously abook, a magazine, and a newspaper. I have not seen a copy myself, thoughI telegraphed to Dublin for one as soon as the news of its publicationreached me. Your uncle, who heard about it at the club, says it isscurrilous. He sent out for a copy, but was informed by the news agentthat the whole issue was sold out. The Archdeacon was the first to tellme about it. He had been in Dublin attending a meeting of the ChurchRepresentative Body and he says that the general opinion there is thatit is blasphemous. Even the Canon is a good deal upset and has gone awayfor a holiday to the north of Scotland. I had a postcard from him to-daywith a picture of the town hall at Wick on the back of it. He wrotenothing except the words, 'Virtute mea me unvolvo. ' I have Latin enoughto guess that this--is it a quotation from his favourite Horace?--is adescription of his own attitude toward Lalage's performance. MissPettigrew, who is greatly interested, and I think on the wholesympathetic with Lalage, writes that eighteen bishops have already begunactions for libel, and that three more are expected to do so as soon asthey recover from fits of nervous prostration brought on by Lalage'sattacks on them. A postscript to her letter gets nearer than anythingelse I have come across to giving a coherent account of what hasactually taken place. 'Lalage, ' she writes, 'has shown a positivelydiabolical ingenuity in picking out for the pillory all the mostcharacteristically episcopal utterances for the last two years. ' Youwill understand better than I do what this means. "

I did understand what Miss Pettigrew meant, but I do not think thatLalage ought to be given: the whole credit. Selby-Harrison did theresearch. 

My mother went on:

"Father Maconchy, the P. P. , stopped me on the road this afternoon tosay that he hoped there was no truth in the report that you are mixed upin what he calls a disgraceful attempt at proselytizing. The Archdeacontells me that in ecclesiastical circles (his, not Father Maconchy's, ecclesiastical circles) you are credited with having urged Lalage on, and says he fears your reputation will suffer. "

I put the letter down at this point and swore. Extreme stupidity alwaysmakes me swear. It is almost the only thing in the world which does. TheArchdeacon, who has been acquainted with Lalage since her birth, oughtto have more sense than to suppose, or allow any one else to suppose, that she ever required urging on. Even Father Maconchy's reading of thesituation was intelligent compared to that. 

"Miss Pettigrew says that the Trinity College authorities have takenthe matter up and are strongly of opinion that you are financing thepublication. Thormanby tells me that the same rumour is current in theclub. He heard it from five or six different men, and says he has beenwritten to about the matter since he came home by people who are mostanxious about your connection with it. I do not know what to believe, and I do not want to press my opinion on you, but if, without makingthings worse for Lalage than they are at present, you can disclaimresponsibility for the publication, whatever it is, it will probably bewise for you to do so. "

It did not seem to me to matter, after reading what my mother said, which of the other letters I took next. I tried one of the two whichbore typewritten addresses, in the hope that it might be nothing worsethan a bill. It was, as a matter of fact, a statement of accounts. Thefirst sheet ran thus:

 Anti-Tommy-Rot Gazette Guarantee Fund Trinity College, Dublin, No. 175, and at the rooms of the Elizabethan Society

 Debtor and Creditor Account To 8 per cent, due on one third of £80, being amount of guarantee for one month as per agreement signed August 9th, ult. , equals 1s. 4d. (say, one shilling and fourpence). Examined and found correct

 J. Selby-Harrison. 

 Stamps (1s. 4d. ) enclosed to balance account. Please acknowledge receipt. 

It is very gratifying to a guarantor to receive interest on his promisein this prompt and business-like way, but I am not sure that 8 per cent, will be sufficient to compensate me for the trouble I shall havein explaining my position to the Board of Trinity College, theRepresentative Body of the Church of Ireland, the Standing Committee ofthe Roman Catholic Hierarchy, the Presbyterian General Assembly, and thecommittee of the Kildare Street Club. The next sheet of Selby-Harrison'saccounts was equally business-like in form. 

 Anti-Tommy-Rot Gazette Guarantee Fund Trinity College, Dublin, No. 175, and at the rooms of the Elizabethan Society Per Contra. 

 By one third of £30, being amount of guarantee for one month as per agreement signed August 9th, ult. , £10, less payment by advertiser for single insertion, being one twelfth of 75. 9d. F contract price for year, 7. 75 pence equals £9-19-4. 25 (say nine pounds nineteen shillings and fourpence farthing) now due by guarantor. Examined and found correct Kindly remit at once to avoid legal proceedings. 

 J. Selby-Harrison. 

The last thing in the world I wanted was further legal proceedings. Witheighteen libel actions pending and three more threatened in the nearfuture, the Irish courts would be kept busy enough without being forcedto deal with a writ issued by Selby-Harrison against me. I sat down atonce and remitted, making out my cheque for the round sum of £10, andtelling Selby-Harrison that he could set the extra 7. 75 pence againstpostage and petty cash. I pointed out at the same time that theadvertiser, considering the unexpectedly wide publicity which hadbeen given to his desire for second-hand feather beds, had got offridiculously cheap. I suggested that he might, if approached, agree topay the extra. 25 of a penny. 

I turned over the other three envelopes and chose for my next experimentone addressed in a delicate female hand. It seemed to me scarcelypossible that letters formed as these were could convey sentiments ofany but a fragrant kind. I turned out to be mistaken. This letter wasmore pitiless even than Selby-Harrison's stark mathematical statements. 

"Owing to the incessant worry and annoyance of the last three days I amprostrate with a bad attack of my old enemy and am obliged to dictatethis letter. "

The signature, written with evident pain, told me that the dictator wasmy Uncle Thormanby. The "old enemy" was, as I knew, gout. 

"Miss Battersby is acting as my amanuensis. "

For the fifth or sixth time in my life I felt sorry for Miss Battersby. 

"Canon Beresford's girl has libelled eighty or ninety bishops in themost outrageous way. I am not sure of the law, but I sincerely hope thatit may be found possible to send her to gaol with hard labour for a termof years. Not that I care what she says about bishops. They probablydeserve all they get and in any case it's no business of mine. Whatannoys me is that she has mixed you up in the scandal. Old Tollertonwas sniggering about the club in the most disgusting way the day beforeyesterday, and telling every one that you were financing the minx. Hesays he has it on the best authority. 

"I found a letter waiting for me when I came home from the secretary ofthe Conservative and Unionist Parliamentary Association, asking me ifthe rumour was true. I had just arranged with them to put you up for theEast Connor division of Down at the general election and everything waslooking rosy. Then this confounded stinkpot of a bombshell burst in ourmidst. That outrageous brat of Beresford's ought to be soundly whipped. I always said so and it turns out now that I was perfectly right. 

"I need scarcely tell you that if your name is connected with theselibel actions in any way your chance of election won't be worth twopence. The Nationalist blackguards would make the most of it, of course, and I don't see how our people could defend you without bringing theparsons and Presbyterian ministers out like wasps. 

"I have authoritatively denied that you have, or ever had, anyconnection with or knowledge of the scurrilous print; so I beg that youwill at once withdraw the guarantee which I understand you havegiven. If you don't do this my position, as well as your own, will beinfernally awkward. I wanted to get a hold of Beresford to-day, buthear that he has gone to Iceland. Just like him I I thought I mighthave bullied him into taking the responsibility and clearing you. TheArchdeacon won't. I tried him. Tollerton, who insisted on sitting nextme at luncheon in the club, says that you may be able to hush the thingup by offering to build a new church for each of the bishops named. Thiswould cost thousands and cripple you for the rest of your life, so wewon't make any overtures in that direction till everything else fails. Tollerton always makes the worst of everything. They say he has Bright'sdisease. I shan't be sorry when he's gone; but if I have to go throughmuch more worry of this kind it's likely enough that he'll see me out. "

With this letter was enclosed a small slip of paper bearing a messagewhich appeared to have been very hurriedly written. 

 "_Please_ do not be too angry with Lalage. I'm sure she did not mean any harm. She is a very high-spirited girl, but most affectionate. I'm _so_ sorry about it all especially for your poor mother. 

 "Amélie Battersby. "

Miss Battersby need not have made her appeal. Even if I had been veryangry with Lalage my uncle's letter would have softened my hearttoward her. She deserved well and not ill of me. The decision of theConservative and Unionist Parliamentary Association came on me as ashock. I had no idea that my uncle was negotiating with them on mybehalf. If Lalage's _Gazette_ disgusted them with me and made it obviousthat I could not succeed as a candidate in the East Connor Division ofCounty Down I should be greatly pleased, and my ten pounds, or whateverlarger sum might be required to pacify the fiercest of the bishops, would be very well spent. 

I opened the Archdeacon's letter next. It was, with the exception ofSelby-Harrison's, the shortest of the whole batch. 

"I write, not in anger but in sorrow. Lalage, whom I can only think ofas a dear but misguided child, has been led away by the influence ofundesirable companions into a grievous mistake. I shrink from applying'a severer word. As a man of the world I cannot shut my eyes to the factthat the money, the considerable sum of money, which you have placedat the disposal of these young people has proved a temptation, not toLalage, but to those with whom she has unfortunately associated herself. In the event of your deciding, as I strongly urge you to do, to withdrawyour financial guarantee, these unscrupulous persons, seeing no prospectof further profit, will no doubt cease to lead Lalage astray. "

The idea in the Archdeacon's mind evidently was that Selby-Harrisonand Hilda had exploited Lalage, and obtained the money for unhallowedrevellings, from me. I should like to hear Hilda's mother's opinion ofthe Archdeacon's view. Its injustice was of course quite evident to me. I had Selby-Harrison's accounts before me, and nothing could be clearerthan they were. Besides I knew from my mother's letter that what theArchdeacon now said about Selby-Harrison and Hilda he had originallysaid about me. When the truth, the whole truth, about the publicationof the _Anti-Tommy-Rot Gazette_ is published, it will be recognized thatSelby-Harrison, Hilda, and I, so far from urging Lalage on or leadingher astray, were from first to last little more than tools for her use, clay in her potter's hands. 

My fifth letter turned out to be from the Provost of Trinity College. It was written in very courteous terms and was, on the whole, the mostencouraging I had yet read. 

He wrote:

"You must forgive my meddling in your affairs, and accept the fact thatI am, in some sense, an old family friend, as my excuse for offeringyou a word of advice. I knew your father before you were born, and asa young man I often dined at your grandfather's table. This gives me akind of right to make a suggestion which I have no doubt you will takein good part. Three young people, who as students in this college aremore or less under my charge, have got into a scrape which might verywell be serious but which, I hope, will turn out in the end to be merelyridiculous. They have printed and published a small magazine in which noless than twenty-one of the Irish bishops are fiercely attacked. 

"It is only fair to say that they have been actuated by no sectarianspirit. They are equally severe on Protestant and Roman Catholicecclesiastics. The publication was at once brought under my notice, andI could do nothing else but send for the delinquents. Nothing could havebeen more praiseworthy than their candour. They gave me an account ofthe purpose of their society--they have formed a society--which showedthat their objects were not in any way vicious, although the meansthey adopted for furthering them were highly culpable. I spoke to themstrongly, very strongly indeed, and I trust made some impression onthem. At the same time I must confess that one of them, Miss LalageBeresford, displayed the greatest determination and absolutely declinedto give me a promise that the publication of the magazine would bediscontinued, except on conditions which I could not possibly consider. You will recognize at once that for Miss Lalage's own sake, as wellas for the sake of college discipline, I cannot have any furtherpublication of the _Anti-Tommy-Rot Gazette_. 

"At the same time I am unwilling to proceed to extremities against heror either of the others. They are all young and will learn sense indue time. It occurs to me that perhaps the simplest way out of thedifficulty will be for you to withdraw the guarantee of financialassistance which, as I understand, you have given. If you are preparedto support me in this way I may safely promise that no further notice ofthe absurd publication will be taken by the college authorities. Thereare rumours of libel actions pending, but I think we may disregard them. No damages can be obtained from you beyond the amount of your originalguarantee, which, I understand, did not amount to more than £30. Allthe other defendants are minors, dependent entirely on their parents fortheir support, so the aggrieved parties will probably not proceed farwith their action. If you agree to stop supplies and so prevent thepossibility of further publication, I shall use my influence to have thewhole affair hushed up. "

There remained only the fifth letter; the second of those which bore atypewritten address. I opened it and found that it came from Lalage. Shewrote:

"We have only been able, to hire this typewriter for one week so I'mpractising hard at it. That is why I'm typing this letter. Please excusemistakes. "

There were a good many mistakes but I excused them. 

"Your copy of the _Anti-Tommy-Rot Gazette_ went to you first thing. Hilda nearly forgot to post it, but didn't quite, which was lucky, forall the rest were seized from us, except nine, which Selby-Harrison gaveto a news agent, who sold them but didn't pay us, though he may yet. Hard Luck, I call that. Don't you? Some ass sent a copy, marked, to theProv. And the next thing we knew was that both offices were raided bycollege porters and our property stolen by force. We were furious, butbefore we could take any action--we were going to consult a lawyer, aK. C. , whose son happens to be a friend of Selby-Harrison's on account ofbeing captain of Trinity 3rd A (hockey), in which Selby-Harrison playshalfback--our doom was upon us and Selby-Harrison was sent for by theProv. He came back shattered, like that telescope man who got caught bythe Inquisition, having spent hours on the rack and nearly had his faceeaten off as well. Our turn came next. We (Hilda and I) had just timeto dart off on top of a tram to Trinity Hall (that's where we have ourrooms), you know, of course, and jump into our best frocks before 1 P. M. , the hour of our summons to the august presence. Hilda's is a tussoresilk, frightfully sweet, and I had a blouse with a lot of Carrickmacrosslace on it. 

"Hilda was in a pea-blue funk when it came to the moment and keptpulling at her left glove until she tore the button off. I was a bitjellyfishy myself down the back; but I needn't have been. The minute Igot into the room I could see that the old Prov. Was a perfect pet anddidn't really mean anything, though he tried to look as if he did. "

I have always disliked the modern system of co-education and afterreading Lalage's letter I was strongly inclined to agree with the bishopwho wants to stamp it out, beginning with the infant schools. I do notagree with his reasoning. My objection--it applies particularly to theadmission of grown-up young women to universities--is that even-handedjustice is never administered. The girls get off cheap. Some day, perhaps, we shall have a lady presiding as provost over one of our greatuniversities. Then the inequalities of our present arrangements willbe balanced by others. The Lalages and Hildas of those days will spendhours upon the rack. If they are fools enough to jump into tussorefrocks and blouses with Carrickmacross lace on them before beingadmitted to the august presence, they will have their faces eaten off aswell. On the other hand, the Selby-Harrisons, if reasonably good-lookingyoung men, will find the Prov. A perfect pet, who doesn't really meananything; who, perhaps, will not even try to look as if she does. 

"He jawed a lot, of course, but we did not mind that a bit; at least Ididn't, for I knew he only did it because he had to. In the end he askedus to promise not to annoy bishops any more. Hilda promised. Rather baseof her, I call it; but by that time she had dragged the second buttonoff her glove and would have promised simply anything. I stuck on andsaid I wouldn't. He seemed a bit put out, and he'd been such a dearabout the whole thing that I hated having to refuse him. You know thesort of way you feel when somebody, that you want frightfully to dothings for, will clamour on for what you know is wrong. That's the wayI was and at last I couldn't stand it any more, so I said I'd promiseon condition that the bishops all undertook not to say any more sillythings except in church. That was as far as I could well go and Ithought the Prov. Would have jumped at the offer. Instead of which hefirst scowled in a very peculiar way and then his face all wrinkled upand got quite red so that I thought he was going to get some kind offit. Without saying another word he in a sort of way hustled us outof the room. That was the only really rude thing he did to us; butSelby-Harrison sticks to it that he was perfectly awful to him. We don'tquite know what will happen next, but both the other two think that we'dbetter not have the college porters arrested for stealing the magazines. I'd like to, but, of course, they are two to one. Selby-Harrison islooking like a sick turkey and is constantly sighing. He says he thinkshe'll have to be a doctor now. He had meant to go into the DivinitySchool and be ordained but after what the Provost said to him he doesn'tsee how he can. Rather rough luck on him, having to fall back on themedical; but I don't think he'll mind much in the end, except thathe doubts whether his father can afford the fees. That will be adifficulty, if true. "

I wonder what the fees amount to. I am inclined to think that it is myduty to see Selby-Harrison through. I should not like to think of hiswhole career being wrecked. At the same time I am inclined to think thatit would be waste to turn him into a doctor. He ought to make his markas a chartered accountant if he gets a chance. I shall speak to mymother about him when I go home and see what she suggests. 

"Hilda's mother has written saying that Hilda is not to spend next holswith me; which was all arranged before the fuss began. I can't see whatobjection she can possibly have. Anyhow it is frightful tyranny and ofcourse we don't mean to stand it. Selby-Harrison says that perhaps ifyou wrote to her she would give in; but I don't want you to do this. Ihate crawling, especially to Hilda's mother and people like that, but ifyou like to do it you can. Selby-Harrison says that your mother being anhonourable, will make a lot of difference, though I don't see what thathas to do with me. Still if you think it will be any use there's noreason why you shouldn't mention it. Hilda has cried buckets full sincethe letter came. "

I am sorry for Hilda but I shall not write to her mother. I have enoughon my hands without that. Besides, as Lalage says, I do not see theconnection between my mother's position in society and Hilda's mother'sschemes for her daughter's holidays. 

"P. S. I hope you got your 8 per cent, all right. I told Selby-Harrisonto send it. We were all three stony at the time and had to borrow itfrom another girl who is going in for logic honours, but she's quiterich, so it doesn't matter. Hilda didn't want to, and said she'dgive her two gold safety pins, which she got last Christmas, ifSelby-Harrison would pawn them for her. But he wouldn't, and I thoughtit was hardly worth while for the sake of one and fourpence, besidesmaking her mother more furious than ever. We ought not to have had toborrow more than fourpence, for Selby-Harrison had a shilling the nightbefore, but went and spent it on having a Turkish bath. Rather a rottenthing to do, I think, when we owed it. But he said he'd forgotten aboutthe 8 per cent, and had to have the Turkish bath on account of the waythe Prov. Talked to him. That was yesterday, of course, not to-day. "

I was glad when I read this that I had made out my cheque for the wholeten pounds. Selby-Harrison will be in a position to pay the other girlback. She may be quite rich, but she will not like being done out of hermoney. The fact that she is going in for logic honours shows me thatshe has a precise kind of mind and a good deal of quiet determination. I should be surprised if she submitted meekly to the loss of one andfourpence. 

"P. P. S. I always forget to tell you that Pussy (Miss Battersby) saysshe left a hat pin with a silver swallow on the end of it in that firsthotel in Lisbon. Would you mind going in the next day you are passingand asking for it? I hate to bother you and I wouldn't, only that wedon't any of us remember the name of the hotel and so can't write. "

I rather shrank from asking that hotel keeper for a pin supposed to havebeen dropped in one of his bedrooms during the previous August. ButMiss Battersby, at least, does not deserve to suffer. I spent a longafternoon going round the jewellers' shops in Lisbon and in the endsecured a pin with two silver doves and a heart on it. I sent thisto Miss Battersby and explained that it was the nearest thing to heroriginal swallow which the hotel keeper had been able to find. She is, fortunately, quite an easy person to please. She wrote thanking me forthe trouble I had taken. 

CHAPTER IX

My friends were singularly successful in their negotiations on mybehalf. Not a single bishop proceeded with his libel action againstLalage. Nor was I forced to buy any of them off by building even a smallcathedral. I attribute our escape from their vengeance entirely to theProvost. His clear statement of the impossibility of obtaining damagesby any legal process must have had its effect. 

Gossip too died away with remarkable suddenness. I heard afterward thatold Tollerton got rapidly worse and succumbed to his disease, whateverit was, very shortly after his last interview with my uncle. I haveno doubt that his death had a good deal to do with the decay of publicinterest in the _Anti-Tommy-Rot Gazette_. The Archdeacon, who also wasinclined to talk a good deal, had his mind distracted by other events. The bishop of our diocese had a paralytic stroke. He was not one ofthose whom Lalage libelled, so the blame for his misfortune cannot belaid on us. The Archdeacon was, in consequence, very fully occupied inthe management of diocesan affairs and forgot all about the _Gazette_. Canon Beresford ventured back to his parish after a stay of six weeks inWick. He would not have dared to return if there had been the slightestchance of the Archdeacon's reverting to the painful subject inconversation. Had there been even the slightest reference to it in thenewspapers, Canon Beresford, instead of returning home, would have gonefarther afield to an Orkney Island or the Shetland group, or, perhaps, to one of those called Faroe, which do not appear on ordinary maps butare believed by geographers to exist. Thus when my mother, in the courseof one of her letters, mentioned casually that Canon Beresford hadlunched with her, I knew, as Noah did when the dove no longer returnedto him, that the flood had abated. 

My uncle was also successful, too successful, in his effort. Hisdefinite denial of my connection with the _Anti-Tommy-Rot Gazette_obtained credence with the Committee of the Conservative and UnionistParliamentary Association. My name retained its place on their booksand they continued to put me forward as a candidate for the East Connordivision of Down at the General Election. 

I only found this fact out by degrees, for nobody seemed to think itworth while to tell me. My uncle said afterward that my ignorance, inwhich he found it very difficult to believe, was entirely my own fault. I cannot deny this: though I still hold that I ought to have beenplainly informed of my destiny and not left to infer it from the figuresin the accounts which were sent to me from time to time. When I went toPortugal I left my money affairs very much in the hands of my mother andmy uncle. I had what I wanted. They spent what they thought right inthe management of my estate, in subscriptions and so forth. The accountswhich they sent me, very different indeed from the spirited statementsof Selby-Harrison, bored me, and I did not realize for some time that Iwas subscribing handsomely to a large number of local objects in placesof which I had never even heard the names. I now know that they aretowns and villages in the East Connor division of Down, and my unclehas told me that this kind of expenditure is called nursing theconstituency. 

The first definite news of my candidature came to me, curiously enough, from Lalage. She wrote me a letter during the Christmas holidays:

"There was a party (flappers, with dancing and a sit-down supper, nota Christmas tree) at Thormanby Park last night. I got a bit fed up with'the dear girls' (Cattersby's expression) at about nine o'clock andslipped off with Hilda in hope of a cigarette. (Hilda's mother's cookgot scarlatina, so she had to give in about Hilda coming here for thehols after all. Rather a climb down for her, I should say. ) It was jollylucky we did, as it turned out, though we didn't succeed in getting thewhiff. Lord Thormanby and the Archdeacon were in the smoking room, so wepretended we'd come to look for Hilda's pocket snuffler. The Archdeaconcame to the party with a niece, in a green dress, who's over fromLondon, and stiff with swank, though what about I don't know, for shecan't play hockey a bit, has only read the most rotten books, and isn'tmuch to look at, though the green dress is rather sweet, with a laceyoke and sequins on the skirt. Why didn't you tell me you were goinginto Parliament? I'm frightfully keen on elections and mean to go andhelp you. So does Hilda now that she knows about it, and I wrote toSelby-Harrison this morning. We've changed the name of the society tothe Association for the Suppression of Public Lying (A. S. P. L. ). Ratherappropriate, isn't it, with a general election just coming on? Of courseyou're still a life member. The change of name isn't a constitutionalalteration. Selby-Harrison made sure of that before we did it, so itdoesn't break up the continuity, which is most important for us all. Lord Thormanby and the Archdeacon were jawing away like anything whilewe were searching about for the hanker, and took no notice of us, although the Archdeacon is frightfully polite now as a rule, quitedifferent from what he used to be. They said the election was a softthing for you unless somebody went and put up a third man. I rather hopethey will, don't you? Dead certs are so rottenly unsporting. I'll havea meeting of the committee as soon as I get back to Dublin. This will bejust the chance we want, for we haven't had any sort of a look in sincethey suppressed the _Gazette. _"

I put this letter of Lalage's aside and did not answer it for some time. I thought that she and Hilda might have misunderstood what my uncleand the Archdeacon were saying. I did not regard it as possible thatan important matter of the kind should be settled without my knowinganything about it; and I expected that Lalage would find out her mistakefor herself. It turned out in the end that she had not made a mistake. Early in January I got three letters, all marked urgent. One was frommy uncle, one from the secretary of the Conservative and UnionistAssociation and one from a Mr. Titherington, who seemed to be a personof some importance in the East Connor division of County Down. They allthree told me the same news. I had been unanimously chosen by thelocal association as Conservative candidate at the forthcoming generalelection. They all insisted that I should go home at once. I did so, butbefore starting I answered Lalage's letter. I foresaw that the activeassistance of the Association for the Suppression of Public Lying in thecampaign before me might have very complicated results, and wouldalmost certainly bring on worry. The local conservative association, for instance, might not care for Lalage. Hardly any local conservativeassociation would. Mr. Titherington might not hit it off withSelby-Harrison, and I realized from the way he wrote, that Mr. Titherington was a man of strong character. I worded my letter to Lalagevery carefully. I did not want to hurt her feelings by refusing an offerwhich was kindly meant. 

I wrote, "I need scarcely tell you, how gladly I should welcome the assistanceoffered by the A. S. P. L. , if I had nothing but my own feelings toconsider. Speeches from you and Hilda would brighten up what threatensto be a dull affair. Selby-Harrison's advice would be invaluable. ButI cannot, in fairness to others, accept the offer unconditionally. Selby-Harrison's father ought to be consulted. He has already been putto great expense through his son's expulsion from the Divinity School, and I would not like, now that he has, I suppose, paid some, at least, of the fees for medical training, to put him to fresh expense byinvolving his son in an enterprise which may very well result in hisbeing driven from the dissecting room. Then we must think of Hilda'smother. If she insisted on Miss Battersby accompanying her daughterto Portugal in the capacity of chaperon, she is almost certain to haveprejudices against electioneering as a sport for young girls. 

"Perhaps circumstances have altered since I last heard from you insuch a way as to make the consultations I suggest unnecessary. Mr. Selby-Harrison senior and Hilda's mother may both have died, prematurelyworn out by great anxiety. In that case I do not press for anyconsideration of their wishes. But if they still linger on I shouldparticularly wish to obtain their approval before definitely acceptingthe offer of the A. S. P. L. "

I thought that a good letter. It was possible that Mr. Selby-Harrisonhad died, but I felt sure, judging from what I had heard of her, thatHilda's mother was a woman of vigour and determination who would liveas long as was humanly possible. I was not even slightly disquieted by atelegram handed to me just before I left Lisbon. 

 "Letter received. Scruples strictly respected. Other arrangements in contemplation. 

 "Lalage. "

I forgot all about the Association for the Suppression of Public Lyingand its offer of help when I arrived in Ireland. Mr. Titherington cameup to Dublin to meet me and showed every sign of keeping me verybusy indeed. He turned out to be a timber merchant by profession, whoorganized elections by way of recreation whenever opportunity offered. Iwas told in the office of the Conservative and Unionist Association thatno man living was more crafty in electioneering than Mr. Titherington, and that I should do well to trust myself entirely to his guidance. Imade up my mind to do so. My uncle who also met me in Dublin, had beenmaking inquiries of his own about Mr. Titherington and gave me theresults of them in series of phrases which, I felt sure, he had pickedup from somebody else. "Titherington, " he said, "has his finger onthe pulse of the constituency. " "There isn't a trick of the trade butTitherington is thoroughly up to it. " "For taking the wind out ofthe sails of the other side Titherington is absolutely A1. " All thisconfirmed me in my determination to follow Mr. Titherington, blindfold. 

The first time I met him he told me that we were going to have a sharpcontest and gave me the impression that he was greatly pleased. Athird candidate had taken the field, a man in himself despicable, whoseelection was an impossibility; but capable perhaps of detaching from mea number of votes sufficient to put the Nationalist in the majority. 

"And O'Donoghue, let me tell you, " said Titherington, "is a smart manand a right good speaker. "

"I'm not, " I said. 

"I can see that. "

I do not profess to know how he saw it. So far as I know, inability tomake speeches does not show on a man's face, and Titherington had noother means of judging at that time except the appearance of my face. Noone in fact, not even my mother, could have been sure then that I was abad speaker. I had never spoken at a public meeting. 

"But, " said Titherington, "we'll pull you through all right. Thatblackguard Vittie can't poll more than a couple of hundred. "

"Vittie, " I said "is, I suppose, the tertium quid, not the Nationalist. I'm sorry to trouble you with inquiries of this kind, but in case ofaccident it's better for me to know exactly who my opponents are. "

"He calls himself a Liberal. He's going baldheaded for some temperancefad and is backed by a score or so of Presbyterian ministers. We'll haveto call canny about temperance. "

"If you want me to wear any kind of glass button on the lapel of mycoat, I'll do it; but I'm not going to sign a total abstinence pledge. I'd rather not be elected. "

Titherington was himself drinking whiskey and water while we talked. Hegrinned broadly and I felt reassured. We had dined together in my hotel, and Titherington had consumed the greater part of a bottle of champagne, a glass of port, and a liqueur with his coffee. It was after dinner thathe demanded whiskey and water. It seemed unlikely that he would ask meeven to wear a button. 

"As we're on the subject of temperance, " he said, "you may as well signa couple of letters. I have them ready for you and I can post them as Igo home to-night. " He picked up a despatch box which he had brought withhim and kept beside him during dinner. It gave me a shock to see the boxopened. It actually overflowed with papers and I felt sure that theyall concerned my election. Titherington tossed several bundles of themaside, and came at last upon a small parcel kept together by an elasticband. 

"This, " he said, handing me a long typewritten document, "is from theAmalgamated Association of Licensed Publicans. You needn't read it. Itsimply asks you to pledge yourself to oppose all legislation calculatedto injure the trade. This is your answer. "

He handed me another typewritten document. 

"Shall I read it?" I asked. 

"You needn't unless you like. All I require is your signature. "

I have learned caution in the diplomatic service. I read my letterbefore signing it, although I intended to sign it whatever it mightcommit me to. I had promised my uncle and given the Conservative andUnionist Parliamentary Association to understand that I would placemyself unreservedly in Titherington's hands. 

"I see, " I said, "that I pledge myself----"

"You give the Amalgamated Association to understand that you pledgeyourself, " said Titherington. 

"The same thing, I suppose?"

"Not quite, " said Titherington grinning again. 

"Anyhow, " I said, "it's the proper thing, the usual thing to do?"

"O'Donoghue has done it, and I expect that ruffian Vittie will have toin the end, little as he'll like it. "

I signed. 

"Here, " said Titherington, "is the letter of the joint committee of theTemperance Societies. "

"There appear to be twenty-three of them, " I said, glancing at thesignatures. 

"There are; and if there were only ten voters in each it would be morethan we could afford to lose. Vittie thinks he has them all safe in hisbreeches pocket, but I have a letter here which will put his hair out ofcurl for a while. "

"I hate men with curly hair, " I said. "It's so effeminate. "

Titherington seemed to think this remark foolish, though I meant it asan additional evidence of my determination to oppose Vittie to the last. 

"Read the letter, " he said. 

I read it. If such a thing had been physically possible it would haveput my hair into curl. It did, I feel almost certain, make it rise upand stand on end. 

"I see by this letter, " I said, "that I am pledging myself to supportsome very radical temperance legislation. "

"You're giving them to understand that you pledge yourself. There's adifference, as I told you before. "

"I may find myself in rather an awkward position if----"

"You'll, be in a much awkwarder one if Vittie gets those votes and letsO'Donoghue in!"

Titherington spoke in such a determined tone that I signed the letter atonce. 

"Is there anything else?" I asked. "Now that I am pledging myself inthis wholesale way there's no particular reason why I shouldn't go on. "

Titherington shuffled his papers about. 

"Most of the rest of them, " he said, "are just the ordinary things. Weneedn't worry about them. There's only one other letter--ah! here it is. By the way, have you any opinions about woman's suffrage?"

"Not one, " I said, "but I don't, of course, want to be ragged if it canbe avoided. Shall I pledge myself to get votes for all the unmarriedwomen in the constituency, or ought I to go further?"

Titherington looked at me severely. Then he said:

"It won't do us any harm if Vittie is made to smell hell by a fewmilitant Suffragettes. "

"After the hole he's put us in about temperance, " I said, "he'll deservethe worst they can do to him. "

"In any ordinary case I'd hesitate; for women are a nuisance, a d----dnuisance. But this is going to be such an infernally near thing that I'mhalf inclined---- It's nuts and apples to them to get their knives intoany one calling himself a Liberal, which shows they have some sense. Besides, the offer has, so to speak, dropped right into our mouths. Itwould be sinning against our mercies and flying in the face ofProvidence not to consider it. "

I had, up to that moment, no reason for suspecting Titherington ofany exaggerated respect for Providence. But there are queer veins ofreligious feeling in the most hard-headed men. I saw that Titheringtonhad a theological side to his character and I respected him all the morefor it. 

"Here's a letter, " he said, "from one of the suffrage societies, offering to send down speakers to help us. As I said before, women area nuisance, but it's just possible that there may be a few cranksamong that temperance lot. You'll notice that if a man has one fad hegenerally runs to a dozen, and there may be a few who really want womento get votes. We can't afford to chuck away any chances. If I could getdeputations from the Anti-Vaccinationists and the Anti-Gamblers I would. But I'd be afraid of their going back on us and supporting Vittie. Anyhow, if these women are the right sort they'll pursue Vittie roundand round the constituency and yell at him every time he opens hismouth. "

I took the letter from Titherington. It was headed A. S. P. L. And signedLalage Beresford. 

"Are you quite sure, " I said, "that the A. S. P. L. Is a woman's suffragesociety?"

"It must be, " said Titherington. "The letter's signed by a woman, atleast I suppose Lalage is a woman's name. It certainly isn't a man's. "

"Still----"

"And what the devil would women be writing to us for if they weren'tSuffragettes?"

"But A. S. P. L. Doesn't stand for----"

"It must, " said Titherington. "S stands for Suffrage, doesn't it? Therest is some fancy conglomeration. I tell you that there are so many ofthese societies nowadays that it's pretty hard for a new one to find aname at all. "

"All the same----"

"There's no use arguing about their name. The question we have todecide is whether it's worth our while importing Suffragettes into theconstituency or not. "

If Titherington had not interrupted me so often and if he had notdisplayed such complete self-confidence I should have told him what theA. S. P. L. Really was and warned him to be very careful about enlistingLalage's aid. But I was nettled by his manner and felt that it wouldbe very good for him to find out his mistake for himself. I remainedsilent. 

"I think the best thing I can do, " he said, "is to interview the lady. Ican judge then whether she's likely to be any use to us. "

I felt very pleased to think that Titherington would learn his mistakefrom Lalage herself. He will be much less arrogant afterward. 

"If she is simply an old frump with a bee in her bonnet, " he said, "whowants to bore people, I'll head her off at once. If she's a sportingsort of girl who'll take on Vittie at his own meetings and make thingshum generally, I think I'll engage her and her lot. I don't happen to bea magistrate myself, but most of them are your supporters. There won'tbe a bit of use his trying to have her up for rioting. We'll simplylaugh at him and she'll be worse afterward. Let me see now. She's inDublin. 'Trinity Hall, ' whatever that is. If I write to-night she'll getthe letter in the morning. Suppose I say 11 a. M. "

"I should rather like to be present at the interview, " I said. 

"You needn't trouble yourself. I sha'n't commit you to anything and thewhole thing will be verbal. There won't be a scrap of paper for her toshow afterward, even if she turns nasty. "

It seemed to me likely that there would be paper to show afterward. IfLalage has Selby-Harrison behind her she will go to that interview withan agreement in her pocket ready for signature. 

"All the same, " I said, "I'd like to be there simply out of curiosity. "

Titherington shrugged his shoulders. 

"Very well, " he said, "but let me do the talking. I don't want you toget yourself tied up in some impossible knot. You'd far better leave itto me. "

I assured him that I did not in the least want to talk, but I persistedin my determination to be present at the interview. Titherington hadbullied me enough for one evening and my promise to put myself entirelyin his hands was never meant to extend to the limiting of my intercoursewith Lalage. Besides, I enjoyed the prospect of seeing him tied up insome impossible knot, and I believed that Lalage was just the girl totie him. 

CHAPTER X

Titherington had a room, temporarily set apart for his use as an office, in the house of the Conservative and Unionist Parliamentary Association. Here he was at liberty to spread about on a large table all the papershe carried in his despatch box and many others. The profusion was mostimpressive, and would, I am sure, have struck a chill into the soul ofVittie had he seen it. Here were composed and written the letters whichI afterward signed, wonderful letters, which like the witches in Macbeth"paltered in a double sense. " Here Titherington entered into agreementswith bill printers and poster artists, for my election was to beconducted on the best possible system with all the modern improvements, an object lesson to the rest of Ireland. Here also the interview withLalage took place. The room was a great convenience to us. Our properheadquarters were, of course, in Ballygore, the principal town in theEast Connor division of Down. But a great deal of business had to bedone in Dublin and we could hardly have got on without an office. 

I walked into this room a few minutes before eleven on the morning afterI had entertained Titherington in my hotel. 

"The lady hasn't arrived yet, " I said. 

"She's gone, " said Titherington. "She was here at half-past eighto'clock. "

I noticed that Titherington spoke in a subdued way and that his eyes hada furtive expression I had never seen in them before. I felt encouragedto give expression to the annoyance which I felt. I told Titheringtonplainly that I thought he ought not to have changed the hour of theinterview without telling me. It seemed to me that he had played mea mean trick and I resented it. Greatly to my surprise Titheringtonapologized meekly. 

"It wasn't my fault, " he said, "and I hadn't time to communicate withyou. I only got this at twenty minutes past eight and had no more thantime to get here myself. "

He handed me a telegram. 

"Eleven quite impossible. Say 8. 30. Jun. Soph. Ord. Begins at 9. 30. Lalage Beresford. "

"I was just sitting down to breakfast, " said Titherington, "and I had toget up without swallowing so much as a cup of tea and hop on to a car. She's a tremendously prompt young woman. "

"She is, " I said, "and always was. "

"You know her then?"

"I've known her slightly since she was quite a little girl. "

"Why didn't you tell me so last night?"

"I tried to, " I said, "but you kept on interrupting me, so I gave up. "

Titherington's conscience may have pricked him. He was certainly in achastened mood, but he showed no sign of wishing to make any furtherapologies. On the contrary he began to recover something of his habitualself-assertiveness. 

"If you know her, " he said, "perhaps you can tell me what a Jun. Soph. Ord. Is?"

"No, I can't. She was always, even as a child, fond of usingcontractions. I remember her writing to me about a 'comp. ' and shehabitually used 'hols' and 'rec. ' for holidays and recreation. "

"It sounds to me, " said Titherington, "like a police court. "

"You don't mean to say that you think she's been arrested for anything?"

"I hope so. "

"Why?" I asked. "Was she too much for you this morning?"

Titherington ignored the second question. 

"I hope so, " he said, "because if she's the sort of girl who getsarrested, she'll be most useful to us. She was quite on for annoyingVittie. She says she's been looking up his speeches and that he's one ofthe worst liars she ever came across. She's quite right there. "

"I wish, " I said, "that you'd go and bail her out. Her father'sa clergyman and it will be a horrible thing if there's any publicscandal. "

"I hinted at that as delicately as I could. I didn't actually mentionbail, because I wasn't quite sure that a Jun. Soph. Ord. Mightn't besomething in the Probate and Divorce Court. She simply laughed at me andsaid she didn't want any help. She told me that she and Hilda, whoeverHilda is, are sure to be all right, because the Puffin is alwaysa lamb--I suppose the Puffin is some name they have for themagistrate--but that a Miss Harrison would probably be stuck. "

"She can't have said Miss Harrison. "

"No. She said Selly, or Selby-Harrison, short for Selina I thought. "

"As a matter of fact, Selby-Harrison--it's a hyphenated surname--is aman. "

"Oh, is it?" said Titherington, using the neuter pronoun because, Isuppose, he was still uncertain about Selby-Harrison's sex. 

"I wish, " I said, "that I knew exactly what they've done. "

"It doesn't in the least matter to us. So long as she's the kind ofyoung woman who does something we shall be satisfied. "

"Oh, she's that. "

"So I saw. And she's an uncommonly good-looking girl. The crowd will beall on her side when she starts breaking up Vittie's meetings. "

"You accepted her offer of help then?"

"Certainly, " said Titherington. "She's to speak at a meeting of yours onthe twenty-first. "

Titherington was by this time talking with all his usual buoyantconfidence, but I still caught the furtive look in his eyes which I hadnoticed at first. He seemed to me to have something to conceal, to bechallenging criticism and to be preparing to defend himself. Now a manwho is on the defensive and who wants to conceal something has generallyacted in a way of which he is ashamed. I felt encouraged. 

"You didn't commit me in any way, I hope, " I said. 

"Certainly not. I didn't have to. She was as keen as nuts on helpingus and didn't ask a single question about your views on the suffragequestion. I needn't say I didn't introduce the subject. "

"You didn't sign anything, I suppose?"

Titherington became visibly embarrassed. He hesitated. 

"I rather expected you'd have to, " I said. 

"It wasn't anything of the slightest importance. "

"Selby-Harrison drew it up, I expect. "

"So she said. But it didn't matter in the least. If it had been anythingthat tied us down I shouldn't have signed it. "

"You would, " I said. "Whatever it was you'd have signed it. "

"She rather rushed me. She's a most remarkable young woman. Howeverthat's all the better for us. If she's capable of rushing me, "Titherington's chest swelled again as he spoke, "she'll simply make hayof Vittie. It would be worth going to hear her heckling that beast onvotes for women. Believe me, he won't like it. "

"She had you at a disadvantage, " I said. "You hadn't breakfasted. "

Titherington became suddenly thoughtful. 

"I wish I knew more about ordinary law, " he said. "I'm all righton Corrupt Practices and that kind of thing, but I don't know thephraseology outside of electioneering. Do you think a Jun. Soph. Ord. Can be any process in a libel action?"

"It might be. Why do you ask?"

"Well, the paper I signed was a sort of agreement to indemnify them incase of proceedings for libel. I signed because I didn't think a girllike that would be likely to say anything which Vittie would regard as alibel. He's a thick-skinned hound. "

"She once libelled twenty-three bishops, she and Hilda andSelby-Harrison between them. "

"After all, " said Titherington, "you can say pretty near anything youlike at an election. Nobody minds. I think we're pretty safe. I'll seethat anything she says at our meetings is kept out of the papers, andshe won't get the chance of making regular speeches at Vittie's. "

I felt quite sorry for Titherington. The interview with Lalage hadevidently been even more drastic than I expected. 

"Perhaps, " I said soothingly, "they'll give her six weeks for the Jun. Soph. Ord. , whatever it is, and then the whole election will be overbefore she gets out. "

"We can't allow that, " said Titherington. "It would be a downrightscandal to subject a girl like that--why, she's quite young and--andactually beautiful. "

"We must hope that the Puffin may prove, as she expects, to be adisguised lamb. "

"I wish I knew who he is. I might get at him. "

"It's too late to do anything now, " I said, "but I'll try and findout in the course of the morning. If I can't, we'll get it all in theevening papers. They're sure to report a case of the sort pretty fully. "

I left Titherington and walked across toward the club. I met theArchdeacon in St. Stephen's Green. I might, and under ordinarycircumstances I should, have slipped past him without stopping, for Ido not think he saw me. But I was anxious about Lalage and I thought itlikely that he would have some news of her. I hailed him and shook handswarmly. 

"Up for a holiday?" I asked. 

"No, " said the Archdeacon. "I have eight meetings to attend to-day. "

"I mustn't keep you then. How is everybody at home? Canon Beresford andLalage quite well?"

"I saw Lalage Beresford this morning. I was passing through collegeon my way to one of my meetings and I saw her standing outside the bighall. She's in her first junior sophister examination to-day. "

"Ord?" I said. 

"What?"

"Ord?" I repeated. "You said Jun. Soph. , didn't you?"

"I said junior sophister. "

"Quite so, and it would be Ord. , wouldn't it?"

"It's an ordinary, if that's what you mean. "

"An ordinary, " I said, "is, I suppose, an examination of a commonplacekind. "

"It's one that you must get through, not an honour examination. "

"I'm so glad I met you. You've relieved my mind immensely. I was afraidit might be an indictable offence. Without your help I should never haveguessed!"

The Archdeacon looked at me suspiciously. 

"I hope she'll pass, " he said, "but I'm rather doubtful. "

"Oh, she'll pass all right, she and Hilda. Selby-Harrison may possiblybe stuck. "

"She's very weak in astronomy. "

"Still, " I said, "the Puffin is a perfect lamb. I think we may count onthat. "

The Archdeacon eyed me even more suspiciously than before. I could seethat he thought I had been drinking heavily. 

"Titherington told me that about the Puffin, " I said. "He wanted to bailher out. He'll be just as glad as I am when he hears the truth. "

The Archdeacon held out his hand stiffly. I do not blame him in theleast for wanting to get away from me. A church dignitary has toconsider appearances, and it does not do to stand talking to anintoxicated man in a public street, especially early in the day. 

"I think we may take it for granted, " I said, "that the Puffin is theman who sets the paper in astronomy. "

The Archdeacon left me abruptly, without shaking hands. I lit acigarette and thought with pleasure of the careful and sympathetic wayin which he would break the sad news of my failing to Lord Thormanby. When I reached the club I despatched four telegrams. The first was toTitherington. 

"No further cause for anxiety. Jun. Soph. Ord. Not a crime but acollege examination. The Puffin probably the Astronomer Royal, but someuncertainty prevails on this point. Shall see lady this afternoon andcomplete arrangements. "

I knew that the last sentence would annoy Titherington. I put it in forthat purpose. Titherington had wantonly annoyed me. 

My other three telegrams were all to Lalage. I addressed one to therooms of the Elizabethan Society, one to 175 Trinity College, which was, I recollected, the alternative address of the _Anti-Tommy Rot Gazette_, and one to Trinity Hall, where Lalage resided. In this way I hoped tomake sure of catching her. I invited her, Hilda, and Selby-Harrison totake tea with me at five o'clock in my hotel. I supposed that bythat time the Jun. Soph. Ord. Would have run its course. I wished toemphasize the fact that I wanted Lalage to bring Selby-Harrison, whomI had never seen. I underlined his name; but the hall porter to whom Igave the telegram told me that the post-office regulations do not allowthe underlining of words. If Titherington succeeds in making me a Memberof Parliament, I shall ask the Postmaster-General some nasty questionson this point. It seems to me a vexatious limitation of the rights ofthe public. 

CHAPTER XI

I had luncheon in the club and then, without waiting even for a cup ofcoffee and a cigarette, went back to my hotel. I felt that I must makethe most perfect possible arrangements for my tea party. The violenceof my invitations would naturally raise Lalage's expectations to thehighest pitch. I sent for the head waiter, who had struck me as an ableand intelligent man. 

"I am expecting some ladies this afternoon, " I said, "and I shall havetea in my sitting room at five o'clock. I want everything to be as niceas possible, fresh flowers and that kind of thing. "

The man nodded sympathetically and gave me the impression that longpractice had familiarized him with the procedure of tea parties forladies. 

"These ladies are young, " I said, "quite young, and so the cakes must beof the most sumptuous possible kind, not ordinary slices cut off largecakes, but small creations, each complete in itself and wrapped in alittle paper frill. Do you understand what I mean?"

He said he did, thoroughly. 

"I need scarcely say, " I added, "that many if not all of the cakes mustbe coated with sugar. Some ought to be filled with whipped cream. Theothers should contain or be contained by almond icing. "

The head waiter asked for information about the size of the party. 

"There are only two ladies, " I said, "but they are bringing a young manwith them. We may, as he is not here, describe him as a boy. Thereforethere must be a large number of cakes, say four dozen. "

The head waiter's eyebrows went up slightly. It was the first sign ofemotion he had shown. 

"I sha'n't eat more than two myself, " I said, "so four dozen ought to beenough. I also want ices, twelve ices. "

This time the head waiter gasped. It was a cold, a remarkably cold, day, with an east wind and a feeling in the air as if snow was imminent. 

"You mustn't understand from that, " I said, "that the fire is to beallowed to go out. Quite the contrary. I want a particularly good fire. When the others are eating ices I shall feel the need of it. "

The head waiter asked if I had a preference for any particular kind ofice. 

"Strawberry, " I said, "vanilla, and coffee. Three of each, and threeneapolitan. That will make up the dozen. I shall want a whole box ofwafers. The ices can be brought in after tea, say at twenty minutes pastfive. It wouldn't do to have them melting while we were at the cakes, and I insist on a good fire. "

The head waiter recapitulated my orders to make sure that he had gotthem right and then left me. 

At twenty minutes to five Lalage and Hilda arrived. They looked veryhot, which pleased me. I had been feeling a little nervous about theices. They explained breathlessly that they were sorry for being late. Ireassured them. 

"So far from being late, " I said "you're twenty minutes too early. I'mdelighted to see you, but it's only twenty minutes to five. "

"There now, Hilda, " said Lalage, "I told you that your old chronometerhad most likely darted on again. I should have had lots and lots of timeto do my hair. Hilda's watch, " she explained to me, "was left to her inher grandmother's will, so of course it goes too fast. It often gains asmuch as two hours in the course of the morning. "

"I wonder you trust it, " I said. 

"We don't. When we got your first 'gram in the Elizabethan we lookedat the clock and saw that we had heaps of time. When your secondcame--Selby-Harrison sent it over from number 175--we began to thinkthat Hilda's watch might be right after all and that the college clockhad stopped. We went back _ventre à terre_ on the top of a tram toTrinity Hall and found your third 'gram waiting for us. That made usdead certain that we were late. So we slung on any rags that came handyand simply flew. We didn't even stay to hook up Hilda's back. I jabbedthree pins into it in the train. "

"I'm sorry, " I said, "that you troubled to change your frocks. I didn'texpect that you'd have to do that. "

"Of course we had. Didn't you know we were in for an exam this morning?"

"I did know that; but I thought you'd have had on your very best so asto soften the Puffin's heart. "

"The poor old Puffin, " said Lalage, "wouldn't be any the wiser if weturned up in our night dresses. He thinks of nothing but parallaxes. Does he, Hilda?"

Hilda did not answer. She was wriggling her shoulders about, and wassitting bolt upright in her chair. She leaned back once and when she didso a spasm of acute pain distorted her face. It occurred to me that oneof the three pins might have been jabbed in too far or not precisely inthe right direction. Lalage could not fairly be blamed, for it must bedifficult to regulate a pin thrust when a tram is in rapid motion, I didnot like the idea of watching Hilda's sufferings during tea, so Icast about for the most delicate way of suggesting that she should berelieved. Lalage was beforehand with me. 

"Turn round, Hilda, " she said, "and I'll hook you up. "

"Perhaps, " I said, "I'd better ring and get a housemaid. "

"What for?" said Lalage. 

"I thought perhaps that Hilda might prefer to go to a bedroom. I don'tmatter, of course, but Selby-Harrison may be here at any moment. "

"Selby-Harrison isn't coming. Turn round, Hilda, and do stand still. "

A waiter came in just then with the tea, I regret to say that hegrinned. I turned my back on him and looked out of the window. 

"Selby-Harrison, " said Lalage, "is on Trinity 3rd A. , inside left, andthere's a cup match on to-day, so of course he couldn't come. "

"This, " I said, "is a great disappointment to me. I've been lookingforward for years to making Selby-Harrison's acquaintance, and everytime I seem to be anywhere near it, something comes and snatches himaway. I'm beginning to think that there isn't really any such person asSelby-Harrison. "

Hilda giggled thickly. She seemed to be quite comfortable again. Lalagesnubbed me severely. 

"I must say for you, " she said, "that when you choose to go in forpretending to be an ass you can be more funerally idiotic than any oneI ever met. No wonder the Archdeacon said you'd be beaten in yourelection. "

"Did he say that?"

"Yes. We were talking to him this morning, Hilda and I andSelby-Harrison, outside the exam hall. We told him we were going down tomake speeches for you. "

"Was it before or after you told him that he said I'd be beaten?"

"Before, " said Lalage firmly. 

"Oh, Lalage! How can you? You know----"

I interrupted Hilda because I did not want to have the harmony of myparty destroyed by recrimination and argument. 

"Suppose, " I said, "that we have tea. "

"I must say, " said Lalage, "that you've collected a middling good showof cakes, hasn't he, Hilda?"

Hilda looked critically at the tea table. She was evidently an expert incakes. 

"You can't have got all those out of one shop, " she said. "There isn't aplace in Dublin that has so many varieties!"

"I'm glad you like the look of them. Which of you will pour out thetea?"

"Hilda's birthday was last month, " said Lalage. "Mine isn't till July. "

This settled the point of precedence. Hilda took her seat opposite theteapot. 

"There are ices coming, " I said a few minutes later, "twelve of them. Imention it in case----"

"Oh, that's all right, " said Lalage. "We shall be able to manage theices. There isn't really much in these cakes. "

If Selby-Harrison had come there would, I think, have been cakes enough;but there would not have been any to spare. I only ate two myself. Whenwe had finished the ices we gave ourselves to conversation. 

"That Tithers man, " said Lalage, "seems to be a fairly good sort. "

"Is Tithers another name for the Puffin?"

"No, " said Lalage. "Tithers is Joey P. "

"He signed his letter Joseph P. , " said Hilda, "so at first we called himthat. "

Titherington usually signs himself Joseph P. I inferred that he wasTithers. 

"You liked him?" I said. 

"In some ways he's rather an ass, " said Lalage, "'and just at first Ithought he was inclined to have too good an opinion of himself. But thatwas only his manner. In the end he turned out to be a fairly good sort. I thought he was going to kick up a bit when I asked him to sign theagreement, but he did it all right when I explained to him that he'dhave to. "

"Lalage, " I said, "I'd like very much to see that agreement. "

"Hilda has it. Hilda, trot out the agreement. " Hilda trotted it out ofa small bag which she carried attached to her waist by a chain. I openedit and read aloud:

"Memorandum of an agreement made this tenth day of February between theMembers of the A. S. P. L. , hereinafter called the Speakers, of the onepart, and Joseph P. Titherington, election agent, of the other. "

"I call that rather good, " said Lalage. 

"Very, " I said, "Selby-Harrison did it, I suppose?"

"Of course, " said Lalage. 

"(1) The Speakers are to deliver for the said election agent . . . Speeches before the tenth of March. "

"I told Tithers to fill in the number of speeches he wanted, " saidLalage, "but he seems to have forgotten. "

"(2) The Speakers hereby agree to assign to the said election agent, his successors and assigns, and the said election agent hereby agrees toenjoy, the sole benefit of the above speeches in the British Empire. 

"(3) When the demand for such speeches has evidently ceased the saidelection agent shall be at liberty----"

I paused. There was something which struck me as familiar about thewording of this agreement. I recollected suddenly that the Archdeaconhad once consulted me about an agreement which ran very much on the samelines. It came from the office of a well-known publisher. The Archdeaconwas at that time bringing out his "Lectures to Confirmation Candidates. "

"Has Selby-Harrison, " I asked, "been publishing a book?"

"No, " said Lalage, "but his father has. " "Ah, " I said, "that accountsfor this agreement form. " "Quite so, " said Lalage, "he copied it fromthat, making the necessary changes. Rather piffle, I call that partabout enjoying the speeches in the British Empire. It isn't likely thatTithers would want to enjoy them anywhere else. But there's a good bitcoming. Skip on to number eight. " I skipped and then read again. 

"(8) The Speakers agree that the said speeches shall be in no waya violation of existing copyright and the said agent agrees to holdharmless the said speakers from all suits, claims, and proceedingswhich may be taken on the ground that the said speeches contain anythinglibellous. "

"That's important, " said Lalage. 

"It is, " I said, "very. I notice that Selby-Harrison has a note at thebottom of the page to the effect that a penny stamp is required if theamount is over two pounds. He seems rather fond of that. I recollect hehad it in the agreement he drew up for me. "

"It wasn't in the original, " said Lalage. "He put it in because we allthought it would be safer. "

"You were right. After the narrow shave you had with the bishops youcan't be too careful. And the amount is almost certain to be over twopounds. Even Vittie's character must be worth more than that. "

"Vittie, " said Lalage, "appears to be the very kind of man we want toget at. I've been reading his speeches. "

"I expect, " I said, "that you'll enjoy O'Donoghue too. But Vittie is tobe your chief prey. I wonder Mr. Titherington didn't insist on insertinga clause to that effect in the agreement. "

"Tither's hated signing it. I was obliged to keep prodding him on or hewouldn't have done it. Selby-Harrison said that either you or he must, so of course it had to be him. We couldn't go for you in any way becausewe'd promised to respect your scruples. "

I recollected the telegram I had received just before leaving Lisbon. 

"I wish, " I said, "that I felt sure you had respected my scruples. Whatabout Selby-Harrison's father? Has he been consulted?"

"Selby-Harrison isn't coming, only me and Hilda. "

"Why?"

"Well, for one thing he's in the Divinity School now. "

"That needn't stop him, " I said. "My constituency is full of parsons, priests, and Presbyterian ministers, all rampant. Selby-Harrison will bein good company. But how did he get into the Divinity School? I thoughtthe Provost said he must take up medicine on account of that troublewith the bishops. "

"Oh, that's all blown over long ago. And being a divinity studentwasn't his only reason for not coming. The fact is his father lives downthere. "

"Ah, " I said, "That's more serious. "

"He wrote to his father and told him to be sure to vote for you. Thatwas as far as he cared to go in the matter. "

"It was very good of him to do so much. And now about your mother, Hilda. Has she given her consent?"

"Not quite, " said Hilda. "But she hasn't forbidden me. 

"We haven't told her, " said Lalage. 

"Lalage, you haven't respected my scruples and you promised you would. You promised in the most solemn way in a telegram which must have costyou twopence a word. "

"We have respected them, " said Lalage. 

"You have not. My chief scruple was Hilda's mother. "

"My point is that you haven't had anything to do with the business. Wearranged it all with Tithers and you weren't even asked to give yourconsent. I don't see what more could have been done for your scruples. "

"Hilda's mother might have been asked. "

"I can't stop here arguing with you all afternoon, " said Lalage. "Comeon, Hilda. "

"Don't go just yet. I promise not to mention Hilda's mother again. "

"We can't possibly stay, can we, Hilda? We have our viva to-morrow. "

"Viva!"

"Voce, " said Lalage. "You must know what that means. The kind of examyou don't write. "

I got viva into its natural connection with voce and grasped at Lalage'smeaning. 

"Part of the Jun. Soph. Ord. ?" I said. 

"Of course, " said Lalage. "What else could it be?"

"In that case I mustn't keep you. You'll be wanting to look up yourastronomy. But you must allow me to parcel up the rest of the cakes foryou. I should like you to have them and you're sure to be hungry againbefore bedtime. "

"Won't you want them yourself?"

"No, I won't. And even if I did I wouldn't eat them. It would hardly befair to Mr. Titherington. He's doing his best for me and he'll naturallyexpect me to keep as fit as possible. "

"Very well, " said Lalage, "rather than to leave them here to rot or beeaten by mice we'll take them. Hilda, pack them up in that biscuit tinand take care that the creamy ones don't get squashed. "

Hilda tried to pack them up, but the biscuit tin would not hold themall. We had not finished the wafers which it originally contained. Irang for the waiter and made him bring us a cardboard box. We laid thecakes in it very tenderly. We tied on the lid with string and then madea loop in the string for Hilda's hand. It was she who carried both thebox and the biscuit tin. 

"Good-bye, " said Lalage. "We'll meet again on the twenty-first. "

It was not until after they were gone that I understood why we shouldmeet again on the twenty-first. That was the day of my first meeting inEast Connor, and Lalage had promised to speak at it. I felt very uneasy. It was utterly impossible to guess at what might happen when Lalageappeared in the constituency. I sat down and wrote a letter to CanonBeresford. I did not expect him to do anything, but it relieved mymind to write. After all, it was his business, not mine, to look afterLalage. Three days later I got an answer from him, which said:

"I shall not be at all surprised, if Lalage turns out to be a goodplatform speaker. She has, I understand, had a good deal of practicein some college debating society and has acquired a certain fluency ofutterance. She always had something to say, even as a child. I wish Icould run up to County Down and hear her, but it is a long journey andthe weather is miserably cold. The Archdeacon told me yesterday that youmeant to employ her in this election of yours. He seemed to dislike theidea very much and wanted me to 'put my foot down. ' (The phrase, I needscarcely say, is his. ) I explained to him that if I put my foot downLalage would immediately tread on it, which would hurt me and not eventrip her. Besides, I do not see why I should. If Lalage finds that kindof thing amusing she ought to be allowed to enjoy it. You have my bestwishes for your success with the _turba Quiritium_. I am glad, very, that it is you who have to face them, not I. I do not know anything inthe world that I should dislike more. "

CHAPTER XII

Titherington took rooms for me in the better of the two hotels inBallygore and I went down there on the day on which he told me I oughtto go. I had as travelling companion a very pleasant man, the only otheroccupant of the compartment in which I was. He was chatty and agreeableat first and did not so much as mention the general election. After wepassed Drogheda his manner changed. He became silent, and when I spoketo him answered snappily. His face got more and more flushed. At last heasked me to shut the window beside me, which I did, although I wantedto keep it open. I noticed that he was wriggling in a curious waywhich reminded me of Hilda when her dress was fastened on with pins. He fumbled about a good deal with one of his hands which he had thrustinside his waistcoat. I watched him with great curiosity and discoveredat last that he was taking his temperature with a clinical thermometer. Each time he took it he sighed and became more restless and miserablelooking than before. 

On the 19th of February I developed a sharp attack of influenza. Titherington flew to my side at once, which was the thing, of allpossible things, that I most wanted him not to do. He aggravated mysufferings greatly by speaking as if my condition were my own fault. Iwas too feverish to argue coherently. All I could do was to swear at himoccasionally. No man has any right to be as stupid as Titherington is. It is utterly ridiculous to suppose that I should undergo racking painsin my limbs, a violent headache and extreme general discomfort ifI could possibly avoid it. Titherington ought to have seen this forhimself. He did not. He scolded me and would, I am sure, have gone onscolding me until I cried if what he took for a brilliant idea had notsuddenly occurred to him. 

"It's an ill wind, " he said cheerfully, "which can't be made to blow anygood. I think I see my way to getting something out of this miserablecollapse of yours. I'll call in McMeekin. "

"If McMeekin is a doctor, get him. He may not be able to do me any good, but he'll give orders that I'm to be left quiet and that's all I want. "

"McMeekin's no damned use as a doctor; but he'll----"

"Then get some one else. Surely he's not the only one there is. "

"There are two others, but they're both sure to support you in any case, whereas McMeekin----"

The way Titherington was discussing my illness annoyed me. I interruptedhim and tried my best to insult him. 

"I don't want to be supported. I want to be cured. Not that any of themcan do that. I simply can't and won't have another blithering idiot letloose at me. One's enough. "

I thought that would outrage Titherington and drive him from my room. But he made allowances for my condition and refused to take offence. 

"McMeekin, " he said, "sets up to be a blasted Radical, and is Vittie'sstrongest supporter. "

"In that case send for him at once. He'll probably poison me on purposeand then this will be over. "

"He's not such an idiot as to do that. He knows that if anythinghappened to you we'd get another candidate. "

Titherington's tone suggested that the other candidate would certainlybe my superior and that Vittie's chances against me were better thanthey would be against any one else. I turned round with a groan and laywith my face to the wall. Titherington went on talking. 

"If you give McMeekin a good fee, " he said, "say a couple of guineas, he'll think twice about taking the chair at Vittie's meeting on thetwenty-fourth. I don't see why he shouldn't pay you a visit every dayfrom this to the election, and that, at two guineas a time, ought toshut his mouth if it doesn't actually secure his vote. "

I twisted my neck round and scowled at Titherington. He left the roomwithout shutting the door. I spent the next hour in hoping vehementlythat he would get the influenza himself. I would have gone on hopingthis if I had not been interrupted by the arrival of McMeekin. He didall the usual things with stethoscopes and thermometers and he askedme all the usual offensive questions. It seemed to me that he spent farmore than the usual time over this revolting ritual. I kept as firm agrip on my temper as I could and as soon as he had finished asked him ina perfectly calm and reasonable tone to be kind enough to put me out ofmy misery at once with prussic acid. Instead of doing what I, asked ormaking any kind of sane excuse for refusing, he said he would telegraphto Dublin for a nurse. She could not, he seemed to think, arrive untilthe next day, so he said he would take a bed in the hotel and look afterme himself during the night. This was more than I, or any one else, could stand. I saw the necessity for making a determined effort. 

"I am, " I said, "perfectly well. Except for a slight cold in the headwhich makes me a bit stupid there's nothing the matter with me. I intendto get up at once and go out canvassing. Would you mind ringing the belland asking for some hot water?"

McMeekin rang the bell, muttering as he did so something about atemperature of 104 degrees. A redheaded maid with a freckled faceanswered the summons. Before I could say anything to her McMeekin gaveorders that a second bed should be brought into my room and that she, the red-haired, freckled girl, should sit beside me and not take hereyes off me for a moment while he went home to get his bag. I forgot allabout Titherington then and concentrated my remaining strength on a hopethat McMeekin would get the influenza. It is one of the few diseaseswhich doctors do get. I planned that when he got it I would searchIreland for red-headed girls with freckled faces, and pay hundreds ofthem, all I could collect in the four provinces, to sit beside him andnot take their eyes off him while I went to get a bag. My bag, as Iarranged, would be fetched by long sea from Tasmania. 

That evening McMeekin and Titherington both settled down in my bedroom. I was so angry with them that I could not take in what they said toeach other, though I was dimly conscious that they were discussing theelection. I learned afterward that McMeekin promised to be present atmy meeting on the 21st in order to hear Lalage speak. I suppose thatthe amount of torture he inflicted on me induced a mood of joyousintoxication in which he would have promised anything. I lay in bed anddid my best, by breathing hard, to shoot germs from my lungs across theroom at Titherington and McMeekin. Their talk, which must have lastedabout eighteen hours, was interrupted at last by a tap at the door. The red-haired girl with a freckled face came in, carrying a loathsomelooking bowl and a spoon which I felt certain was filthy dirty. McMeekintook them from her hands and approached me. In spite of my absolutelysickening disgust, I felt with a ferocious joy that my opportunity hadat last come. McMeekin tried to persuade me to eat some sticky yellowliquid out of the bowl. I refused, of course. As I had foreseen, hebegan to shovel the stuff into my mouth with the spoon. Titheringtoncame over to my bedside. He pretended that he came to hold me up whileMcMeekin fed me. In reality he came to gloat. But I had my revenge. Ipawed McMeekin with my hands and breathed full into his face. I alsoclutched Titherington's coat and pawed him. After that I felt easier, for I began to hope that I had thoroughly infected them both. Myrecollections of the next day are confused. Titherington and McMeekinwere constantly passing in and out of the room and at some time or othera strange woman arrived who paid a deference which struck me asperfectly ridiculous to McMeekin. To me she made herself most offensive. I found out afterward that she was the nurse whom McMeekin had summonedby telegraph. What she said to McMeekin or what he said to her I cannotremember. Of my own actions during the day I can say nothing certainlyexcept this: I asked McMeekin, not once or twice, but every time I sawhim, how long it took for influenza to develop its full strength in aman who had thoroughly imbibed the infection. McMeekin either would notor could not answer this simple question. He talked vague nonsense aboutperiods of incubation, whereas I wanted to know the earliest date atwhich I might expect to see him and Titherington stricken down, I hatedMcMeekin worse than ever for his dogged stupidity. 

The next day McMeekin said I was better, which showed me thatTitherington was right in saying that he was no damned use as a doctor. I was very distinctly worse. I was, in fact, so bad that when the nurseinsisted on arranging the bedclothes I burst into tears and sobbedafterward for many hours. That ought to have shown her that arrangingbedclothes was particularly bad for me. But she was an utterly callouswoman. She arranged them again at about eight o'clock and told me to goto sleep. I had not slept at all since I got the influenza and I couldnot sleep then, but I thought it better to pretend to sleep and I lay asstill as I could. After I had been pretending for a long while, at somehour in the very middle of the night, Titherington burst into my roomin a noisy way. He was in evening dress and his shirt front had a broadwrinkle across it. I have never seen a more unutterably abhorrent sightthan Titherington in evening dress. The nurse rebuked him for havingwakened me, which showed me that she was a fool as well as a wantonlycruel woman. I had not been asleep and any nurse who knew her businesswould have seen that I was only pretending. Titherington took no noticeof her. He was bubbling over with something he wanted to say, and twentynurses would not have stopped him. 

"We had a great meeting, " he said. "The hall was absolutely packed andthe boys at the back nearly killed a man who wanted to ask questions. "

"McMeekin, I hope, " I said feebly. 

"No. McMeekin was on the platform--mind that now--on the platform. Igave him a hint beforehand that we were thinking of calling in anotherman if you didn't improve. He simply bounded on to the platform afterthat. It'll be an uncommonly nasty jar for Vittie. The speaking wasn'tup to much, most of it; but I wish you'd heard the cheers when Iapologized for your absence and told them you were ill in bed. It wouldhave done you good. I wouldn't give tuppence for Vittie's chancesof getting a dozen votes in this part of the division. We had twotemperance secretaries, damned asses, to propose votes of thanks. "

"For my influenza?"

"You're getting better, " said Titherington, "not a doubt of it. I'llsend you round a dozen of champagne to-morrow, proper stuff, and by thetime you've swallowed it you'll be chirrupping like a grasshopper. "

"I'm not getting better, and that brute McMeekin wouldn't let me look atchampagne. He gives me gruel and a vile slop he calls beef tea. "

"If he doesn't give you something to buck you up, " said Titherington, "I'll set Miss Beresford on him. She'll make him hop. "

The mention of Lalage reminded me that the meeting was the occasion ofher first speech. 

I found myself beginning to take a slight interest in what Titheringtonwas saying. It did not really matter to me how things had gone, for Iknew that I was going to die almost at once. But even with that prospectbefore me I wanted to hear how Lalage's maiden speech had been received. 

"Did Miss Beresford speak at the meeting?" I asked. 

The nurse came over to my bed and insisted on slipping her thermometerunder my arm. It was a useless and insulting thing to do, but I bore itin silence because I wanted to hear about Lalage's speech. Titheringtondid not answer at once, and when he did it was in an unsatisfactory way. 

"Oh, she spoke all right, " he said. 

"You may just as well tell me the truth. "

"The speech was a good speech, I'll not deny that, a thundering goodspeech. "

The nurse came at me again and retrieved her abominable thermometer. She twisted it about in the light of the lamp and then whispered toTitherington. 

"Don't shuffle, " I said to him. "I can see perfectly well that you'rekeeping something back from me. Did McMeekin insult Miss Beresford inany way? For if he did----"

"Not at all, " said Titherington. "But I've been talking long enough. I'll tell you all the rest to-morrow. "

Without giving me a chance of protesting he left the room. I felt thatI was going to break down again; but I restrained myself and told thenurse plainly what I thought of her. 

"I don't know, " I said, "whether it is in accordance with the etiquetteof your profession to thwart the wishes of a dying man, but that's whatyou've just done. You know perfectly well that I shall not be aliveto-morrow morning and you could see that the only thing I really wantedwas to hear something about the meeting. Even a murderer is given someindulgence on the morning of his execution. But just because I have, through no fault of my own, contracted a disease which neither you norMcMeekin know how to cure, I am not allowed to ask a simple question. You may think, I have no doubt you do think, that you have acted withfirmness and tact. In reality you have been guilty of blood-curdlingcruelty of a kind probably unmatched in the annals of the SpanishInquisition. "

I think my words produced a good deal of effect on her. She did notattempt to make any answer; but she covered up my shoulder with thebedclothes. I shook them off again at once and scowled at her with suchbitterness that she left my bedside and sat down near the fire. I sawthat she was watching me, so again pretended to go to sleep. 

McMeekin came to see me next morning, and had the effrontery torepeat the statement that I was better. I was not, and I told him sodistinctly. After he was gone Titherington came with a large bag in hishand. He sent the nurse out of the room and unpacked the bag. He tookout of it a dozen small bottles of champagne. He locked the door andthen we drank one of the bottles between us. Titherington used mymedicine glass. I had the tumbler off the wash-hand-stand. The nurseknocked at the door before we had finished. But Titherington, witha rudeness which made me really like him, again told her to go awaybecause we were talking business. After I had drunk the champagne Ibegan to feel that McMeekin might have been right after all. I wasslightly better. Titherington put the empty bottle in the pocket ofhis overcoat and packed up the eleven full bottles in the bag again. Helocked the bag and then pushed it as far as he could under my bed withhis foot. He knew, just as well as I did, that either the nurse orMcMeekin would steal the champagne if they saw it lying about. 

"Now, " he said, "you're not feeling so chippy. "

"No, I'm not. Tell me about Miss Beresford's speech. "

"It began well, " said Titherington. "It began infernally well. Shestood up and, without by your leave or with your leave, said that allpoliticians were damned liars. "

"Damned?"

"Well, bloody, " said Titherington, with the air of a man who makes aconcession. 

"Was Hilda there?"

"She was, cheering like mad, the same as the rest of us. "

"I'm sorry for that. Hilda is, or was, a nice, innocent girl. Her motherwon't like her hearing that sort of language. "

"Bloody wasn't the word she used, " said Titherington, "but she gave usall the impression that it was what she meant!"

"Go on. "

"Of course I thought, in fact we all thought, that she was referring toVittie and O'Donoghue, especially Vittie. The boys at the back of thehall, who hate Vittie worse than the devil, nearly raised the roof offwith the way they shouted. I could see that McMeekin didn't half likeit. He's rather given himself away by supporting Vittie. Well, as longas the cheering went on Miss Beresford stood and smiled at them. She'sa remarkably well set up girl so the boys went on cheering just forthe pleasure of looking at her. When they couldn't cheer any more shestarted off to prove what she said. She began with O'Donoghue and shegot in on him. She had a list as long as your arm of the whoppers heand the rest of that pack of blackguards are perpetually ramming downpeople's throats. Home Rule, you know, and all that sort of blasted rot. Then she took the skin off Vittie for about ten minutes. Man, but itwould have done you good to hear her. The most innocent sort of remarkVittie ever made in his life she got a twist on it so that it came outa regular howling lie. She finished him off by saying that Ananias andSapphira were a gentleman and a lady compared to the ordinary Liberal, because they had the decency to drop down dead when they'd finished, whereas Vittie's friends simply went on and told more. By that timethere wasn't one in the hall could do more than croak, they'd got sohoarse with all the cheering. I might have been in a bath myself withthe way the sweat was running off me, hot sweat. "

Titherington paused, for the nurse knocked at the door again. This timehe got up and let her in. Then he went on with his story. 

"The next minute, " he said, "it was frozen on me. "

"The sweat?"

Titherington nodded. 

"Go on, " I said. 

"She went on all right. You'll hardly believe it, but when she'dfinished with O'Donoghue and Vittie she went on to----"

"Me, I suppose. "

"No. Me, " said Titherington. "She said she didn't blame you in theleast because she didn't think you had sense enough to lie like areal politician, and that those two letters about the TemperanceQuestion----"

"She'd got ahold of those?"

"They were in the papers, of course, and she said I'd written them. Well, for just half a minute I wasn't quite sure whether the boys weregoing to rush the platform or not. There wouldn't have been much left ofMiss Beresford if they had. But she's a damned good-looking girl. Thatsaved her. Instead of mobbing her every man in the place started tolaugh. I tell you there were fellows there with stitches in their sidesfrom laughing so that they'd have given a five-pound note to be able tostop. But they couldn't. Every time they looked at me and saw me sittingthere with a kind of a cast-iron grin on my face--and every time theylooked at the two temperance secretaries who were gaping like stuckpigs, they started off laughing again. Charlie Sanderson, the butcher, who's a stoutish kind of man, tumbled off his chair and might havebroken his neck. I never saw such a scene in my life. "

I saw the nurse poking about to find her thermometer. Titherington sawher too and knew what was coming. 

"It was all well enough for once, " he said, "but we can't have itagain. "

"How do you propose to stop it?" I asked. 

"My idea, " said Titherington, "is that you should see her and explain toher that we've had enough of that sort of thing and that for the futureshe'd better stick entirely to Vittie. "

I am always glad to see Lalage. Nothing, even in my miserable condition, would have pleased me better than a visit from her, But I am notprepared at any time to explain things to her, especially when theexplanation is meant to influence her action. I am particularly unfittedfor the task when I am in a state of convalescence. I interruptedTitherington. 

"Nurse, " I said, "have you got that thermometer? I'm nearly sure mytemperature is up again. "

Titherington scowled, but he knew he was helpless. As he left the roomhe stopped for a moment and turned to me. "What beats me about thewhole performance, " he said, "is that she never said a single wordabout woman's suffrage from start to finish. I never met one of that lotbefore who could keep off the subject for as much as ten minutes at atime even in private conversation. "

CHAPTER XIII

I entered next day on what proved to be the most disagreeable stageof my illness. McMeekin called on me in the morning. He performed somesilly tricks with a stethoscope and felt my pulse with an air of raptattention which did not in the least deceive me. Then he intimated thatI might sit up for an hour or two after luncheon. The way he made thisannouncement was irritating enough. Instead of saying straightforwardly, "You can get out of bed if you like, " or words to that effect, hesmirked at the nurse and said to her, "I think we may be allowed to situp in a nice comfortable armchair for our afternoon tea to-day. " But thepermission itself was far worse than the manner in which it was given. Idid not in the least want to get up. Bed was beginning to feel tolerablycomfortable. I hated the thought of an armchair. I hated still morebitterly the idea of having to walk across the floor. I suppose McMeekinsaw by my face that I did not want to get up. He tried, after his ownfoolish fashion, to cheer and encourage me. 

"Poor Vittie's got it too, " he said. "I was called in to see him lastnight. "

"Influenza?"

"Yes. It's becoming a perfect epidemic in the district. I have fortycases on my list. "

"If Vittie's got it, " I said, "there's no reason in the world why Ishould get up. "

McMeekin is a singularly stupid man. He did not see what I meant. I hadto explain myself. 

"The only object I should have in getting up, " I said, speaking veryslowly and distinctly, "would be to prevent Vittie going round theconstituency when I couldn't be after him. Now that he's down himselfhe can't do anything more than I can; so I may just as well stay where Iam. "

Even then McMeekin failed to catch my point. 

"You'll have to get up some time or other, " he said. "You may just aswell start to-day. "

When he had left the room I appealed to the nurse. 

"Did you ever, " I said, "hear a more inane remark than that? In thefirst place I have pretty well made up my mind never to get up again. Itisn't worth while for all the good I ever get by being up. In the secondplace it's ridiculous to say that because one has to do a thing sometimeone may as well do it at once. You have to be buried sometime, but youwouldn't like it if McMeekin told you that you might just as well beburied to-day. "

I hold that this was a perfectly sound argument which knocked the bottomout of McMeekin's absurd statement, but it did not convince the nurse. As I might have known beforehand she was in league with McMeekin. Instead of agreeing with me that the man was a fool, she smiled at me inthat particularly trying way called bright and cheery. 

"But wouldn't it be nice to sit up for a little?" she said. 

"No, it wouldn't. "

"It would be a change for you, and you'd sleep better afterward. "

"I've got on capitally without sleep for nearly a week and I don't seeany use in reacquiring a habit, a wasteful habit, which I've succeededin breaking. "

She said something about the doctor's orders. 

"The doctor, " I replied, "did not give any orders. He gave permission, which is a very different thing. "

I spent some time in explaining the difference between an order and apermission. I used simple illustrations and made my meaning so plainthat no one could possibly have missed it. The nurse, instead ofadmitting that I had convinced her, went out of the room. She came backagain with a cupful of beef tea which she offered me with another brightsmile. If I were not a man with a very high sense of the courtesy dueto women I should have taken the cup and thrown it at her head. It is, I think, very much to my credit that I drank the beef tea and then didnothing worse than turn my face to the wall. 

At two o'clock she got my dressing gown and somewhat ostentatiouslyspread it out on a chair in front of the fire. I lay still and saidnothing, though I saw that she still clung to the idea of getting meout of bed. Then she rang the bell and made the red-haired girl bring adilapidated armchair into the room. She pummelled its cushions with herfists for some time and then put a pillow on it. This showed me thatshe fully expected to succeed in making me sit up. I was perfectlydetermined to stay where I was. I pretended to go to sleep and even wentthe length of snoring in a long-drawn, satisfied kind of way. She cameover and looked at me. I very slightly opened the corner of one eye andsaw by the expression of her face that she did not believe I was reallyasleep. I prepared for the final struggle by gripping the bedclothestightly with both hands and poking my feet between the bars at thebottom of the bed. 

At three o'clock she had me seated in the armchair, clothed in mydressing gown, with a rug wrapped round my legs. I was tingling withsuppressed rage and flushed with a feeling of degradation. I intended, as soon as I regained my self control, to say some really nasty thingsto her. Before I had made up my mind which of several possible remarksshe would dislike most, Titherington came into the room. The nurse doesnot like Titherington. She has never liked him since the day that hekept her outside the door while we drank champagne. She always smoothesher apron with both hands when she sees him, which is a sign that shewould like to do him a bodily injury if she could. On this occasion, alter smoothing her apron and shoving a protruding hair pin into theback of her hair, she marched out of the room. 

"McMeekin tells me, " I said to Titherington, "that Vittie has got theinfluenza. Is it true?"

"He says he has, " said Titherington, with strong emphasis on the word"says. "

"Then I wish you'd go round and offer him the use of my nurse. I don'twant her. "

"He has two aunts, and besides----"

I was not going to allow Vittie's aunts to stand in my way. Iinterrupted Titherington with an argument which I felt sure he wouldappreciate. 

"He may have twenty aunts, " I said; "that's not my point. What I'mthinking of is the excellent effect it will produce in the constituencyif I publicly sacrifice myself by handing over my nurse to my politicalopponent. The amount of electioneering capital which could be madeout of an act of heroism of that kind--why, it would catch the popularimagination more than if I jumped into a mill race to save Vittie from arunaway horse, and everybody knows that if you can bring off a spoof ofthat sort an election is as good as won. "

Titherington growled. 

"All the papers would have it, " I said. "Even the Nationalists wouldbe obliged to admit that I'd done a particularly noble thing. " "I don'tbelieve Vittie has the influenza. "

"McMeekin said so. "

"It would be just like Vittie, " said Titherington, "to pretend he hadit so as to get an excuse for calling in McMeekin. He knows McMeekin hasbeen wobbling ever since you got ill. "

This silenced me. If Vittie is crafty enough to devise such acomplicated scheme-for bribing McMeekin without bringing himself withinthe meshes of the Corrupt Practices Act he is certainly too wise toallow himself to be subjected to my nurse. 

"Anyway, " said Titherington, "it's not Vittie's influenza I came here totalk about. "

"Have you got the key of your bag with you?"

Titherington was in a bad temper, but he allowed himself to grin. Hewent down on his hands and knees and dragged the bag from its hidingplace under the bed. 

We opened two half bottles, but although Titherington drank a great dealmore than his share he remained morose. 

"That girl, " he said, "is playing old hookey with the constituency. Iwon't be answerable for the consequences unless she's stopped at once. "

"I suppose you're speaking about Miss Beresford?"

"Instead of talking rot about woman's suffrage, " said Titheringtonsavagely, "and ragging Vittie, which is what we brought her here for, she's going round calling everybody a liar. And it won't do. I tell youit won't do at all. "

"You said it was a good speech, " I reminded him. 

"I shouldn't have minded that speech. It's what she's been at sincethen. She spent all day yesterday and the whole of this morning goinground from house to house gassing about the way nobody in political lifeever speaks the truth. She has a lot of young fools worked up to such astate that I can scarcely show my face in the streets, and I hear thatthey mobbed a man up at the railway station who came down to supportO'Donoghue. He deserved it, of course, but it's impossible to say whothey'll attack next. Half the town is going about with yards of whiteribbon pinned on to them. "

"What on earth for?"

"Some foolery. It's the badge of some blasted society she's started. There's A. S. P. L. On the ribbons. "

"I told you at the start, " I said, "that the letters A. S. P. L. Couldn'tstand for votes for women, but you would have it that they did. "

"She has the whole town placarded with notices of a meeting she's goingto hold to-morrow night. We can't possibly have that, you know. "

"Well, why don't you stop her?"

"Stop her! I've done every damned thing I could to stop her. I wentround to her this morning and told her you'd sign any pledge sheliked about woman's suffrage if she'd only clear out of this and goto Belfast. She as good as told me to my face that she wouldn't give atinker's curse for any pledge I had a hand in giving. My own impressionis that she doesn't care if she never got a vote, or any other womaneither. All she wants is to turn the place into a bear garden and spoilthe whole election. I've come here to tell you plain that if you don'tinterfere I'll wash my hands of the whole affair. "

"Don't do that, " I said. "Think of the position I'd be in if youdeserted me. "

"Then stop her. "

"I would. I would stop her at once if I hadn't got the influenza. Yousee yourself the state I'm in. The nurse wouldn't let me do it even ifMcMeekin agreed. "

"Damn the nurse!"

"I quite agree; and if you'd do as I suggest and cart her off toVittie----"

"Look here, " said Titherington. "It's all very well you're talking likethat, but this is serious. The whole election's becoming a farce. MissBeresford----"

"It's a well-known fact that there is nothing so uncontrollable as atiger once it has got the taste of human blood, and Miss Beresford, having found out how nice it is to call you and Vittie and O'Donoghueliars, isn't likely to be persuaded----"

"What are you going to do?" said Titherington truculently. 

"I? I'm going back to bed as soon as I can, and when once back I'm goingto stay there. "

Titherington looked so angry that I began to feel afraid. I was quitehelpless and I did not want him to revenge himself on me by carrying offthe champagne or sending for a second nurse. 

"There's just one idea which occurs to me, " I said. "I doubt whether itwill be much use, but you might try it if you're regularly stuck. Writeto Hilda's mother. "

"Who the devil's Hilda's mother?"

"I don't know, but you might find out. She strongly disapproves ofHilda's making speeches, and if she knew what is going on here I expectshe'd stop it. She'd stop Hilda anyhow. "

"Is Hilda the other one. "

"Yes, " I said. "The minor one. "

Titherington got out a note book and a pencil. 

"What's her address?" he asked. 

"I don't know. "

"Never mind. I'll hunt all the directories till I find her. What's hername?"

"I don't know. "

"Well, what's the girl's name? I suppose the mother's is the same unlessshe's married again. "

"Hilda, " I said. "I've told you that three or four times. "

"Hilda what?"

"I don't know. I never heard her called anything but Hilda. "

Titherington shut his note book and swore. Then he dropped his pencil onthe floor. I felt quite sorry for him. If I had known Hilda's surname Ishould have told it to him at once. 

"It's just possible, " I said, "that Selby-Harrison's father might know. He lives down in these parts somewhere. Perhaps you've met him. "

"There's only one Selby-Harrison here. He's on your committee, a warmsupporter of yours. "

"That's the man. Selby-Harrison, the son I mean, said he'd write tothe old gentleman and tell him to vote for me. I expect he went on mycommittee after that. "

"And you think he can get at this young woman's mother?"

"No. I don't think anything of the sort. All I say is that he maypossibly know the name of Hilda's mother. "

"Can't I get at Miss Beresford's mother?"

"No, you can't. She's been dead for twenty years. "

"A good job for her, " said Titherington. 

"The Archdeacon would agree with you there. "

"What Archdeacon?"

I saw that I had made an unfortunate admission. Titherington, in hispresent mood, would be quite capable of bringing the Archdeacon down onus here. I would almost rather have a second nurse. I hastened to covermy mistake. 

"Any Archdeacon, " I said. "You know what Archdeacons are. There isn'tone of them belonging to any church who wouldn't disapprove strongly ofMiss Beresford. "

Titherington grunted. 

"If I thought an Archdeacon would be any use, " he said, "I'd get a dozenif I had to pay them fifty pounds apiece. "

"They wouldn't help in the slightest. Miss Beresford and Hilda havelibelled twenty-three bishops in their day. They'd simply laugh at yourArchdeacons. "

"Well, " said Titherington, "I suppose that's all I am to get out ofyou. "

"That's all. If there was anything else I could suggest----"

Titherington picked up his pencil again. 

"I'll try Selby-Harrison, " he said, "and if he knows the name----"

"If he doesn't, get him to wire to his son for it. He certainly knows. "

"I will. "

"I needn't tell you, " I added, "that the telegram must be cautiouslyworded. "

"What do you mean?"

"Merely that if Selby-Harrison, the son, suspects that you and thefather want to worry Hilda or Miss Beresford in any way he'll lie lowand not answer the telegram. He's on the committee of the A. S. P. L. , so ofcourse he won't want the work of the society to be interfered with. "

"If he doesn't answer, I'll go up to Dublin to-night and drag it outof the young pup by force. It'll be a comfort anyhow to be dealing withsomebody I can kick. These girls are the very devil. "

"No. 175 Trinity College is the address, " I said. "J is the initial. Ifhe's not in his rooms when you call just ask where the 3rd A. Happens tobe playing. "

"The what?"

"It's a hockey eleven and it's called the 3rd A. Miss Beresford told meso and I think we may rely on it that she, at least, speaks the truth. Selby-Harrison sometimes plays halfback and sometimes inside left, butanybody would point him out to you. "

Titherington took several careful notes in his book. 

"It's not much of a chance, " I said, "but it will keep you busy for awhile and anything is better than sitting still and repining. "

"In the infernal fix we're in, " said Titherington, "anything is worthtrying. "

CHAPTER XIV

During the time that Titherington and I were thrown together I learnedto respect and admire him, but I never cared for him as a companion. Only once, so far as I recollect, did I actually wish to see him. Theday after I gave him the hint about Hilda's mother I waited for himanxiously. I was full of curiosity. I wanted to know what Hilda'ssurname was, a matter long obscure to me, which Titherington, if any manliving, would find out. I also wanted to know how Hilda's mother tookthe news of her daughter's political activity. I waited for him all daybut he did not visit me. Toward evening I came to the conclusion thathe must have found himself obliged to go up to Dublin in pursuit ofSelby-Harrison, junior. I spent a pleasant hour or two in picturingto myself the interview between them. Titherington had spoken of usingviolent means of persuasion, of dragging the surname of Hilda out of theyoung man. He might, so I liked to think, chase Selby-Harrison roundthe College Park with a drawn sword in his hand. Then there wouldbe complications. The Provost and senior fellows, not understandingTitherington's desperate plight, would resent his show of violence, which would strike them as unseemly in their academic groves. Swift, muscular porters would be sent in pursuit of Titherington, who would, himself, still pursue Selby-Harrison. The great bell of the Campanilewould ring furious alarm peals. The Dublin metropolitan police would atlast be called in, for Titherington, when in a determined mood, would bevery difficult to overpower. 

All this was pleasant to think about at first; but there came atime when my mind was chiefly occupied in resenting Titherington'sthoughtlessness. He had no right to go off on a long expedition withoutleaving me the key of the bag in which we kept the champagne. I felt theneed of a stimulant so badly that I ventured to ask McMeekin, whocalled just before I went to bed, to allow me half a glass of Burgundy. Burgundy would not have been nearly as good for me as champagne, but itwould have been better than nothing. McMeekin sternly forbade anythingof the sort, and I heard him tell the nurse to give me barley water whenI asked for a drink. This is another proof that McMeekin ought to bein an asylum for idiots. Barley water would depress me and make memiserable even if I were in perfect health. 

As a set-off against Titherington's thoughtlessness and McMeekin'simbecility, I noticed that during the day the nurse became graduallyless obnoxious. I began to see that she had some good points and thatshe meant well by me, though she still did things of which I could notpossibly approve. She insisted, for instance, that I should wash myface, a wholly unnecessary exertion which exhausted me greatly and mighteasily have given me cold. Still I disliked her less than I did before, and felt, toward evening that she was becoming quite tolerable. I alwayslike to give praise to any one who deserves it, especially if I havebeen obliged previously to speak in a different way. After I gotinto bed I congratulated her on the improvement I had noticed in hercharacter and disposition. She replied that she was delighted to seethat I was beginning to pick up a little. The idea in her mind evidentlywas that no change had taken place in her but that I was shaking off amood of irritable pessimism, one of the symptoms of my disease. I didnot argue with her though I knew that she was quite wrong. There reallywas a change in her and I had all along kept a careful watch over mytemper. 

The day after that, being, I believe, the eighth of my illness, I got upat eleven o'clock and put on a pair of trousers under my dressing-gown. McMeekin, backed by the nurse, insisted on my sending for a barber toshave me. I did not like the barber, for, like all his tribe, hewas garrulous and I had to appeal to the nurse to stop him talking. Afterward I was very glad I had endured him. Lalage and Hilda calledon me at two o'clock, and I should not have liked them to see me inthe state I was in before the barber came. They both looked fresh andvigorous. Electioneering evidently agreed with them. 

"We looked in, " said Lalage, "because we thought you might want to becheered up a bit. You can't have many visitors now that poor Tithers isgone. "

"Dead?"

"Oh, no, not yet at least, and we hope he won't. Tithers means well andI daresay it's not his fault if he don't speak the truth. "

"They've put him in prison, I suppose. I hardly thought they'd allow himto chop up Selby-Harrison in the College Park. "

Hilda gaped at me. Lalage went over to the nurse and whispered somethingin her ear. The nurse shook her head and said that my temperature wasnormal. 

"If you're not raving, " said Lalage, "you're deliberately talkingnonsense. I don't know what you mean, nor does Hilda. "

"It ought to be fairly obvious, " I said, "that I'm alluding toMr. Titherington's attempt to find out Hilda's surname from youngSelby-Harrison. "

Hilda giggled convulsively. Then she got out her pocket handkerchief andchoked. 

"Tithers, " said Lalage, "is past caring about anybody's name. He's gotinfluenza. It came on him the night before last at twelve o'clock. He'spretty bad. "

"I'm glad to hear that. I was afraid he might have been arrested inDublin. If it's only influenza there's no reason why he shouldn't sendme the key of the bag. I suppose you'll be going round to see him in thecourse of the afternoon, Lalage. "

"We hadn't thought of doing that, " said Lalage, "but of course we can ifyou particularly want us to. "

"I wish you would, and tell him to send me the key of the bag at once. You could bring it back with you. "

"Certainly, " said Lalage. "Is that all?"

"That's all I want; but it would be civil to ask how he is. "

"There's no use making a special, formal visit for a trifle like that. Hilda will run round at once. It won't take her ten minutes. "

Hilda hesitated. 

"Run along, Hilda, " said Lalage. 

Hilda still hesitated. It occurred to me that she might not know whereTitherington's house was. 

"Turn to the right, " I said, "as soon as you get out of the hotel. Then go on to the end of the street. Mr. Titherington's house is atthe corner and stands a little way back. It has 'Sandringham' in giltletters on the gate. You can't miss it. In fact, you can see it from thedoor of the hotel. Nurse will show it to you. "

Even then Hilda did not start. 

"The key of what bag?" she asked. 

"Is it any particular bag?" said Lalage. 

"Of course it is, " I said. "What on earth would be the use----?"

"Will Tithers knows what bag you mean?" said Lalage. 

"He will. Now that he has influenza himself he can't help knowing. "

"Off with you, Hilda. "

This time Hilda started, slowly. The nurse, who evidently thought thatHilda was being badly treated, went with her. She certainly took her asfar as the hotel door. She may have gone all the way to Titherington'shouse. Lalage sat down opposite me and lit a cigarette. 

"We are having a high old time, " she said. "Now that Tithers is gone andO'Donoghue, who appears to be rather an ass, professes to have a sorethroat----"

She winked at me. 

"Do you suspect him of having influenza?" I asked. 

"Of course, but he won't own up if he can help it. "

"Vittie is only shamming, " I said. "Titherington told me so, he mayemerge at any moment. "

"It's just like Tithers to say that. The one thing he cannot do is speakthe truth. As a matter of fact Vittie is in a dangerous condition. Hisaunt told me so. "

"Have you been to see him. "

"No. The aunt came round to us this morning with tears in her eyes, andbegged us to spare Vittie. "

"I suppose the things you have been saying about him have made himworse. "

"According to his aunt they keep him in such an excitable state that hecan't sleep. I told her I was jolly glad to hear it. That just shows theamount of good the A. S. P. L. Is doing in the district. It's making itspower felt in every direction. "

"If Vittie dies------"

"He won't. That sort of man never does. I'm sorry for the aunt ofcourse. She seemed a quiet, respectable sort of woman and, curiouslyenough, very fond of Vittie. I told her that I'd do anything Iconscientiously could to lull off Vittie, but that I had my duty toperform. And I have, you know. I'm clearing the air. "

"It wants it badly. McMeekin told me two days ago he had forty cases andthere are evidently a lot more now. "

"I'm not talking about microbes, " said Lalage. "What I'm talking aboutis the moral 'at'. "

I thought for a moment. 

--"titude?" I ventured to suggest. 

"No, " said Lalage, "--mosphere. It wants it far worse than the otherair. I had no idea till I took on this job that politics are such uttersinks as they are. What you tell me now about Vittie is just anotherexample of what I mean. I dare say now it will turn out that he wentto bed in the hope of escaping my exposure of the way he's been tellinglies. "

"Titherington hinted, " I said, "that he did it in the hope ofinfluencing McMeekin's vote. Fees, you know. "

"That's worse. "

"A great deal worse. "

"Funk, " said Lalage, "which is what I did suspect him of, iscomparatively honest, but a stratagem of the kind you suggest, is as badas felony. I shall certainly have at him for that. "

"Titherington will be tremendously pleased if you do. "

"I'm not trying to please Tithers. I'm acting in the interests of publicmorality. "

"Still, " I said, "there's no harm in pleasing Tithers incidentally. "

"I have a big meeting on to-night. Hilda takes the chair, and I'llrub it in about Vittie shamming sick. I never heard anything moredisgraceful. Can Tithers be playing the same game, do you think?"

"I don't know, " I said. "Hilda will be able to tell us that when shecomes back. "

Hilda came back so soon that I think she must have run part of the wayat least. Probably she ran back, when the nurse was not with her. 

"He won't send you the key, " she said, "but he wants you to send him thebag. "

"Is he shamming?" said Lalage, "or has he really got it?"

"I don't know. I didn't see him. "

"If you didn't see him, " I said hopefully, "you may be wrong after allabout his wanting the bag. He can't be so selfish. "

"Who did you see?" said Lalage. 

"Mrs. Titherington, " said Hilda. "She----"

"Fancy there being a Mrs. Tithers, " said Lalage. "How frightfully funny!What was she like to look at?"

"Never mind that for the present, Hilda, " I said. "Just tell me aboutthe key. "

"She took your message up to him, " said Hilda, "and came down again in aminute looking very red in the face. "

"Titherington must have sworn at her, " I said. "What a brute that manis!"

"You'd better take him round the bag at once, " said Lalage. "Where isit?"

"He shan't have the bag, " I said. "There are only eight bottles left andI want them myself. "

"Bottles of what?"

"Champagne, of course. "

"His or yours?" asked Lalage. 

"They were his at first. They're mine now, for he gave them to me, andI'm going to keep them. "

"I don't see what all the fuss is about, " said Lalage. "Do you, Hilda? Isuppose you and Tithers can both afford to buy a few more bottles if youwant them. "

"You don't understand, " I said. "I'm quite ready to give a sovereigna bottle if necessary, and I'm sure that Titherington would, too. Thepoint is that my nurse won't let me have any, and I don't supposeTitherington's wife will let him. That ass McMeekin insists on poisoningme with barley water, and Titherington's doctor, whoever he is, is mostlikely doing the same. "

"I see, " said Lalage. "This just bears out what I've been saying allalong about the utter want of common honesty in political life. Here areyou and Tithers actually quarrelling about which of you is to be allowedto lie continuously. You are deliberately deceiving your doctor andnurse. Tithers wants to deceive his wife, which is, if anything, a shadeworse. Hilda, find that bag. "

"Lalage, " I said, "you're not going to give it to Titherington, are you?It wouldn't be good for him, it wouldn't really. "

"Make your mind quite easy about that, " said Lalage. "I'm not going togive it to either of you. Hilda, look under the bed. That's just theidiotic sort of place Tithers would hide a thing. "

I heard Hilda grovelling about on the floor. A minute later she wasdragging the bag out. 

"What are you going to do with it, Lalage?"

"Take it away and keep it myself till you're both well. "

"We never shall be, " I said. "We shall die. Please, Lalage, pleasedon't. "

"It's the only honest course, " said Lalage. 

I made an effort to assert myself, though I knew it was useless. 

"There is such a thing, " I said, "as carrying honesty too far. Allextremes are wrong. There are lots of occasions on which it isn't at allright to tell the literal truth. "

"None, " said Lalage. 

"Suppose a robber was robbing you, and you had a five-pound note insideyour sock and suppose he said to you, 'Have you any more money?'"

"That has nothing to do with the way you and Tithers have conspiredtogether to deceive the very people who are trying to do you good. "

"Lalage, " I said, "I've subscribed liberally to the funds of thesociety. I'll subscribe again. I did my best for you at the time ofthe bishop row. I don't think you ought to turn on me now because I'madopting the only means in my power of resisting a frightful tyranny. You might just as well call it dishonest of a prisoner to try to escapebecause he doesn't tell the gaoler beforehand how he's going to do it. "

"Hilda, " said Lalage, "collar that bag and come on. "

"Lalage, " I said sternly, "if you take that bag I'll write straight tothe Archdeacon. "

Hilda was already outside the door. Lalage turned. 

"It will be much more unpleasant for you than for me, " she said, "if youbring the Archdeacon down here. I'm not afraid of him. You are. "

"I'll write to Miss Battersby. I'll write to the Provost, and to MissPettigrew. I'll write to Hilda's mother. I'll get Selby-Harrison towrite, too. I'll----"

Lalage was gone. I rang the bell savagely and told the nurse to get mypens, ink, and paper. I thoroughly agreed with Titherington. Lalage'sproceedings must be stopped at once. 

CHAPTER XV

I wrote the first page of a letter to the Archdeacon and expressedmyself, so far as I could in that limited space, strongly. I gave himto understand that Lalage must be either enticed or forced to leaveBally-gore. I intended to go onto a description of the sort of thingsLalage had been doing, of Titherington's helplessness and Vittie'speril. But I was brought up short at the end of the first page by thewant of blotting paper. The nurse brought me two pens, a good sizedbottle of ink, several quires of paper and about fifty envelopes. Thenshe went out for her afternoon walk, and I did not discover until aftershe had gone that I had no blotting paper. The only course open to mewas to wait, as patiently as I could, until the first page of the letterdried. It took a long time to dry, because I was very angry when I beganto write and had pressed heavily on the pen. The crosses of my t's werelike short broad canals. The loops of the e's, Fs and such letters weredeep pools, and I had underlined one word with some vigour. I waved thesheet to and fro in the air. When I got tired of waving it I propped itup against the fender and let the heat of the fire play on it. 

While I was waiting my anger gradually cooled and I began to see thatLalage was perfectly right in saying that I should suffer most if theArchdeacon came to our rescue. The story of the champagne in the bagwould leak out at once. The Archdeacon, as I recollected, alreadysuspected me of intemperance. When he heard that I was drinking secretlyand keeping a private supply of wine he would be greatly shocked andwould probably feel that it was his duty to act firmly. He would, almostcertainly, hold a consultation with McMeekin. McMeekin is just the sortof man to resent anything in the way of a professional slight fromone of his patients. Goaded on by the Archdeacon he would inventsome horrible punishment for me. In mediaeval times, so I am given tounderstand, the clergy tortured people, in cells, for the good of theirsouls, and any one who had a private enemy denounced him to the GrandInquisitor. Faith has nowadays given way before the assaults of scienceand it is the doctors who possess the powers of the rack. Instead ofbeing suspected of heresy a man is now accused of having an abscess onhis appendix. His doom is much the same, to have his stomach cut openwith knives, though the name given to it is different. It is nowcalled an operation. The older term, rather more expressive, wasdisembowelling. Four hundred years ago McMeekin, if he had a grievanceagainst me, would have denounced me to the Archdeacon. Now, things havechanged so far that it is the Archdeacon who denounces me to McMeekin. The result for me is much the same. I do not suppose that my case wouldeither then or now be one for extreme penalties. I am not the stuff ofwhich obstinate heretics are made, nor have I any heroic tumour whichwould render me liable to the knife. Slow starvation, a diet of barleywater, beef tea, and milk puddings, would meet the requirements of mycase. But I did not want any more barley water and beef tea. I havealways, from my childhood up, hated milk puddings. I thought over myposition carefully and by the time the first sheet of my letter to theArchdeacon was dry, I had arrived at the conclusion that I had betternot go on with it. I burned it. 

Lalage's meeting, held that night, was an immense success. The town hallwas packed to its utmost capacity and I am told that Lalage spoke verywell indeed. She certainly had a good subject and a fine opportunity. Vittie, O'Donoghue, and I were all in bed. Our chief supporters, Titherington and the others, were helpless, with temperatures rangingfrom 102 to 105 degrees. But even if we had all been quite well andin full possession of our fighting powers we could not have made anyeffective defence against Lalage. She had an astonishingly good case. Titherington, for instance, might have talked his best, but he could nothave produced even a plausible explanation of those two letters of ourson the temperance question. O'Donoghue was in a worse case. He hadmade statements about budgets and things of that kind which Lalage'sfavourite word only feebly describes. Vittie, apart altogether fromany question of the genuineness of his influenza, was in the narroweststraits of us all. He appears to have lied with an abandon and arecklessness far superior to O'Donoghue's or mine. Lalage, so I heardafterward, spent an hour and a half denouncing us and devoted abouttwo-thirds of the time to Vittie. His aunts must have had a tryingtime with him that night unless McMeekin came to their rescue with anunusually powerful sleeping draught. 

What Lalage said did not keep me awake; but the immediate results of hermeeting broke in upon a sleep which I needed very badly. My nurse leftme for the night and I dropped off into a pleasant doze. I dreamed, Irecollect, that the Archdeacon was bringing me bottles of whiskey inTitherington's bag and that Hilda was standing beside me with the key. Iwas roused, just as I was about to open the bag, by a terrific noiseof bands in the streets. It was nearly eleven o'clock, and even duringelections, bands at that hour are unusual. Besides, the bands which Iheard were playing more confusedly than even the most excited bands do. It occurred to me that there might possibly be a riot going on and thatthe musicians were urging forward the combatants. I crawled out of bedand stumbled across the room. I was just in time to see a torchlightprocession passing my hotel. The night was windy and the torches flaredmost successfully, giving quite enough light to make everything plainlyvisible. 

At the head of the procession were two bands a good deal mixed uptogether. I at once recognized the uniform of the Loyal True Blue Fifeand Drums, whose members were my supporters to a man, and who possessmany more drums than fifes. The bright-green peaked caps of the otherplayers told me that they were the Wolfe Tone Invincible Brass Band. It usually played tunes favourable to O'Donoghue. Vittie did not owna band. If his supporters had been musical, and if there had been anytunes in the world which expressed their political convictions, therewould, no doubt, have been three bands in the procession. The True Bluesand the Wolfe Tones were, when they passed me, playing different tunes. In every other respect the utmost harmony prevailed between them. Thechief drummer of the True Blues and the cornet player of the WolfeTones stopped just under my windows to exchange instruments, an act ofcourtesy which must be unparalleled in Irish history. I was not ableto hear distinctly what sort of attempt my supporter made at the cornetpart of "God Save Ireland. " But O'Donoghue's friend beat time to"The Protestant Boys" on the drum with an accuracy quite surprisingconsidering that he cannot often have practised the tune. Behind thebands closely surrounded by torch bearers came a confused crowd of mendragging and pushing a wagonette, from which the horses had been taken. In the wagonette were Lalage and Hilda. Lalage was standing up in thedriver's seat, a most perilous position. She had in one hand a largeroll of white ribbon, the now well-known symbol of the Associationfor the Suppression of Public Lying, and in her other hand a pair ofscissors. She snipped off bits of the ribbon and allowed them to gofluttering away from her in the wind. The crowd scrambled eagerly forthem, and it was plain that the association was enrolling members inhundreds. Hilda seemed less happy. She was crouching in the body of thewagonette and looked frightened. Perhaps she was thinking of her mother. I crept back to bed when the procession had passed and felt deeplythankful that I was laid up with influenza. Lalage's meeting was, without doubt, an unqualified success. 

Newspapers are, as a rule, busy enough about what happens even in quiteobscure constituencies during by-elections. If ours had been one ofthose occasional contests the subject of public lying, Lalage's portraitand the story of the two bands men would have been quite familiar toall readers. During a general election very few details of particularcampaigns can be printed. Editors are kept busy enough chronicling theresults and keeping up to date the various clocks, ladders, kites andother devices with which they inform their readers of the stateof parties. I was therefore quite hopeful that our performances inBallygore would escape notice. They did not. Some miserably efficientand enterprising reporter strayed into the town on the very evening ofLalage's meeting and wrote an account of her torchlight procession. Thewhole thing appeared next morning in the paper which he represented. Other papers copied his paragraphs, and very soon hundreds of them inall parts of the three kingdoms were making merry over the plight of thecandidates who lay in bed groaning while a piratical young woman tookaway their characters. I did not in the least mind being laughed at. I have always laughed at myself and am quite pleased that other peopleshould share my amusement. But I greatly feared that complications ofvarious kinds would follow the publicity which was given to our affairs. Vittie almost certainly, O'Donoghue probably, would resent being madeto look ridiculous. Hilda's mother and the Archdeacon might not care forthe way in which Lalage emphasized the joke. 

My fellow candidates were the first to object. I received letters fromthem both, written by secretaries and signed very shakily, asking meto cooperate with them in suppressing Lalage. O'Donoghue, who wasapparently not quite so ill as Vittie was, also suggested that we shouldpublish, over our three names, a dignified rejoinder to the mirth of thepress. He enclosed a rough draft of the dignified rejoinder and invitedcriticism and amendment from me. My proper course of action was obviousenough. I made my nurse reply with a bulletin, dictated by me, signed byher and McMeekin, to the effect that I was too ill to read letters andtotally incapable of answering them. I gave McMeekin twenty-five poundsfor medical attendance up to date, just before I asked him to sign thebulletin. I also presented the nurse with a brooch of gold filagreework, which I had brought home with me from Portugal, intending to giveit to my mother. It would have been churlish of them, afterward, torefuse to sign my bulletin. 

This disposed of Vittie and O'Donoghue for the time. But I knew thatthere was more trouble before me. I was scarcely surprised when CanonBeresford walked into my room one evening at about nine o'clock. Helooked harassed, shaken, and nervous. I asked him at once if he were aninfluenza convalescent. 

"No, " he said, "I'm not. I wish I were. "

"There are worse things than influenza. I used not to think so at first, but now I know there are. Why don't you get it? I suppose you've come tosee me in hope of infection. "

"No. I came to warn you. We've just this moment arrived and you mayexpect us on you to-morrow morning. "

"You and the Archdeacon?"

"No. Thank goodness, nothing so bad as that. The Archdeacon is at home. "

"I wonder at that. I fully expected he'd have been here. "

"He would have been if he could. He wanted to come, but of course it wasimpossible. You heard I suppose, that the bishop is dead. "

"No, I didn't hear. Influenza?"

"Pneumonia, and that ties the Archdeacon. "

"What a providential thing! But you said 'we. ' Is Thormanby here?"

"No, Thormanby told me yesterday that he'd washed his hands of the wholeaffair. "

"That's exactly what I've done, " I said. "It's by far the most sensiblething to do. I wonder you didn't. "

"I tried to, " said the Canon piteously. "I did my best. I have engageda berth on a steamer going to Brazil, one that hasn't got a wirelesstelegraphic installation, and I've secured a _locum tenens_ for theparish. But I shan't be able to go. You can guess why. "

"The Archdeacon?"

The Canon nodded sadly. I did not care to make more inquiries about theArchdeacon. 

"Well, " I said, "if neither he nor Thormanby is with you, who is?"

"Miss Battersby for one. She volunteered. "

I felt relieved. Miss Battersby is never formidable. 

"She won't matter, " I said. "Lalage and Hilda will put her to bed andkeep her there. That's what they did with her on the way to Lisbon. "

"And Miss Pettigrew, " said the Canon. 

"How on earth does she come to be mixed up in it?"

"Your mother telegraphed to her and begged her to come down with usto see what she could do. She's supposed to have some influence withLalage. "

"What sort of woman is she? I don't know her personally. Lalage saysshe's the kind of person that you hate and yet can't help rather loving, although you're afraid of her. Is that your impression of her?"

"She has a strongly developed sense of humour, " said the Canon, "and I'mafraid she's rather determined. "

"What do you expect to do?"

"I don't myself expect to do anything, " said the Canon. 

"I meant to say what is the ostensible object of the expedition?"

"The Archdeacon spoke of our rescuing Lalage from an equivocal position. "

"You ought to make that man bishop, " I said. 

"Miss Battersby kept on assuring us all the way down in the train thatLalage is a most lovable child, very gentle and tractable if taken theright way, but high spirited. "

"That won't help her much, because she's no nearer now than she was tenyears ago to finding out what is the right way to take Lalage. What areMiss Petti-grew's views?"

"She varies, " said the Canon, "between chuckling over your position andwishing that Lalage was safely married with some babies to look after. She says there'll be no peace in Ireland until that happens. "

"That's an utterly silly scheme. There's nobody here to marry her exceptVittie, and I'm perfectly certain his aunts wouldn't let him. He has twoaunts. If that is all Miss Pettigrew has to suggest she might as wellhave stopped at home. "

The Canon sighed. 

"I'm afraid I must be going, " he said, "I promised Miss Pettigrew thatI'd be back in half an hour. We're going to see Lalage at once. "

"Lalage will be in bed by the time you get there; if she's notorganizing another torchlight procession. You'd far better stop whereyou are. "

"I'd like to, but----"

"You can get a bed here and send over for your things. Your two ladiesare in the other hotel, I suppose. "

"Yes. We knew you were here and Miss Battersby seemed a little afraid ofcatching influenza, so we went to the other. "

"That's all right. You'll be quite safe for the night if you stop here. "

"I wish I could, but----"

"You'll not do any good by talking to Lalage. You know that. "

"I know that of course; but----"

"It won't be at all pleasant for you when Miss Pettigrew comes out withthat plan of hers for marrying Lalage to Vittie. There'll be a horridrow. From what I know of Lalage I feel sure that she'll resent thesuggestion. There'll be immense scope for language in the argument whichfollows and they'll all feel freer to speak out if there isn't a churchdignitary standing there listening. "

"I know all that, but still----"

"You don't surely mean to say that you _want_ to go and wrangle withLalage?"

"Of course not. I hate that kind of thing and always did; but----"

"Out with it, Canon. You stick at that 'but' every time. "

"I promised Miss Pettigrew I'd go back. "

"Is that all?"

"Not quite. The fact is--you don't know Miss Pettigrew, so you won'tunderstand. "

"You're afraid of her?" I said. 

"Well, yes, I am. Besides, the Archdeacon said some stiff things to mebefore we started, uncommonly stiff things. Stiff isn't the word I want, but you'll probably know what I mean. "

"Prickly, " I suggested. 

"Yes, prickly. Prickly things about the responsibility of fatherhood andthe authority of parents. I really must go. "

"Very well. If you must, you must, of course. But don't drag me intoit. Remember that I've got influenza and if Miss Pettigrew and MissBattersby come here I'll infect them. I rely on you to nip in the budany suggestion that I've anything to do with the affair one way orthe other. I tell you plainly that I'd rather see Lalage heading atorchlight procession every day in the week than married to Vittie. "

"The Archdeacon says that you are the person chiefly responsible forwhat he calls Lalage's compromising position. "

"The Archdeacon may say what he likes. I'm not responsible. Goodheavens, Canon, how can you suppose for an instant that anybody could, be responsible for Lalage?"

"I didn't suppose it. I was only quoting the Archdeacon. "

"I wish to goodness the Archdeacon would mind his own business!"

"That's what he's doing, " said the Canon. "If he wasn't he'd be herenow. He wanted to come. If the poor old bishop had held out another weekhe would have come. "

The Canon left me after that. 

CHAPTER XVI

I fully expected a visit from Miss Pettigrew in the course of the nextday. I was not disappointed. She arrived at three o'clock, bringingthe Canon with her. I was greatly impressed by her appearance. She hasbright eyes which twinkled, and she holds her head very straight, pushedwell back on her shoulders so that a good deal of her neck is visiblebelow her chin. I felt at once that she was the sort of woman who coulddo what she liked at me. I attempted my only possible line of defence. 

"Aren't you afraid of influenza?" I said. "Is it wise----?

"I'm not in the least afraid, " said Miss Pettigrew. 

"Not for yourself, of course, " I said. "But you might carry it back toMiss Battersby. I'm horribly infectious just now. Even the nurse washesherself in Condy's Fluid after being near me. "

"Miss Battersby must take her chance like the rest of us. I've come totalk about Lalage. "

"I told the Canon last night, " I said, "that I'm not capable of dealingwith Lalage. I really am not. I know because I've often tried. "

"Listen to me for a minute, " said Miss Pettigrew. "We've got to getLalage out of this. I'm not given to taking conventional views of thingsand I'm the last woman in Ireland to want to make girls conform to thestandard of what's called ladylikeness. But Lalage has gone too far. Thenewspapers are full of her and that's not good for any girl. "

"I'm sure, " I said, "that if you represent that view of the case toLalage----"

"We have. We spent two hours with her last night and three hours thismorning. We didn't produce the slightest effect. "

"Hilda cried, " said the Canon. 

"After all, " I said, "that's something. I couldn't have made Hilda cry. "

"Hilda doesn't count, " said Miss Pettigrew. "She's a dear girl butanybody could manage her. We didn't make Lalage cry. "

"No, " I said, "you couldn't, of course. In fact, I expect, Lalage madeyou laugh. "

Miss Pettigrew smiled and then checked herself. Amusement struggled witha certain grimness for expression on her face. In the end she smiledagain. 

"Lalage has always made me laugh, " she said, "ever since she was quite alittle girl. That's what makes it so difficult to manage her. "

"Why try?" I said. "Lord Thormanby has washed his hands of her. So haveI. The Canon wants to. Wouldn't it be simpler if you did too?"

"It would be much simpler, " said Miss Pettigrew. "But I'm not going todo it. I have a very strong affection for Lalage. "

"We all have, " I said. "No one, not even the Canon has a strongeraffection than I have; but I don't see how that helps us much. Somethingmore is required. If sincere affection would have saved Lalage from theequivocal position in which she now is----"

Miss Pettigrew looked at me in a curious way which made me feel hot andvery uncomfortable even before I imderstood what she was thinking about. Her eyes twinkled most brilliantly. The smile which had hovered abouther lips before broadened. I recollected what the Canon told me thenight before. Miss Pettigrew had suggested marriage for Lalage. I hadat once thought of Vittie. Miss Pettigrew was not thinking of Vittie. Ifelt myself getting red in the face as she looked at me. 

"I couldn't, " I said at last. "This influenza has completely unstrungme. I shouldn't have the nerve. You must admit, Miss Pettigrew, that itwould require nerve. "

"I'm not suggesting your doing it to-day, " said Miss Pettigrew. 

"Nor any other day, " I said. "I shouldn't be able to screw myself up tothe pitch. I'm not that kind of man at all. What you want is some onemore of the Young Lochinvar type, or a buccaneer. They're all dashingmen who shrink from nothing. Why not advertise for a buccaneer?"

"I don't suppose she'd marry you if you did ask her, " said MissPettigrew. 

"I am sure she wouldn't, so we needn't go on talking about that. Won'tyou let me ring and get you a cup of tea? They make quite good tea inthis hotel!"

"It's too early for tea, and I want to discuss this business of Lalage'sseriously. The position has become quite impossible. "

"It's been that for more than a week--but it still goes on. That's theworst of impossible positions. Nobody can ever stop them. Titheringtonsaid it was impossible the day before he got influenza. You don't knowTitherington, nor does the Canon. But if you did you'd realize that he'snot the kind of man to let an impossible position alone and yet he wasbaffled. I had letters yesterday morning from Vittie and O'Don-oghueasking me to cooperate with them in suppressing Lalage They see thatthe position is impossible just as plainly as you do. But they can't doanything. In fact they've gone to bed. "

"I'm not going to bed, " said Miss Pettigrew. "I'm going to bring Lalagehome with me. "

"How?"

"I rather hoped, " said Miss Pettigrew, "that you might have somesuggestion that would help us. "

"I made my only suggestion to Titherington a week ago and it didn't comeoff. There's no use my making it again!"

"What was it? Perhaps I could work it out. "

"It wasn't much of a suggestion really. It was only Hilda's mother. "

"I've wired to her and she'll be here to-morrow. I've no doubt thatshe'll carry off Hilda, but she has no authority over Lalage. "

"Nobody has, " said the Canon despondingly. "I've said that all along. "

"What about the Provost of Trinity College?" I said. "He tackled herover the bishops. You might try him. "

"He won't interfere, " said the Canon. "I asked him. "

"Well, " I said, "I can do no more. You can see for yourself, MissPettigrew, that I'm not in a state to make suggestions. I'm completelyexhausted already and any further mental exertion will bring on arelapse. Do let me ring for tea. I want it myself. "

The door opened as I spoke. I hoped that my nurse or McMeekin hadarrived and would insist on my being left in peace. I was surprised and, in spite of my exhaustion, pleased to see Lalage and Hilda walk in. 

"Father, " said Lalage, "why didn't you tell me last night that thebishop is dead?"

"I didn't think it would interest you, " said the Canon. 

"Of course it interests me. When poor old Pussy mentioned it to me justnow I simply hopped out of my shoes with excitement and delight. So didHilda. "

"Did you hate the bishop that much?" I asked. "Worse than otherbishops?"

"Not at all, " said Lalage. "I never saw him except once and then Ithought he was quite a lamb. "

"Hilda, " I said, "why did you hop out of your shoes with excitement anddelight when you heard of the death of an old gentleman who never didyou any harm?"

"We'll have to elect another, won't we?" said Lalage. 

A horrible dread turned me quite cold. I glanced at Miss Pettigrew. Hereyes had stopped twinkling. I read fear, actual fear, in the expressionof her face. We both shrank from saying anything which might lead to theconfirming of our worst anticipations. It was the Canon who spoke next. What he said showed that he was nearly desperate. 

"Lalage, " he said, "will you come with me for a tour to Brazil? I'vebooked one berth and I can easily get another!"

"I can't possibly go to Brazil, " said Lalage, "and you certainly oughtnot to think of it till the bishopric election is over. "

"I'll take Hilda, too, " said the Canon. "I should like to have Hilda. You and she would have great fun together. 

"I'll give Selby-Harrison a present of his ticket, " I added, "and payhis hotel expenses. It would be a delightful trip. "

"Brazil, " said Miss Pettigrew, "is one of the most interesting countriesin the world. I can lend you a book on the natural history. "

"Hilda's mother wouldn't let her go, " said Lalage. "Would she, Hilda?"

"I'm afraid not, " said Hilda. "She thinks I ought to be more at home. "

"Miss Pettigrew will talk her over, " I said. "It's a great chance forHilda. She oughtn't to miss it. "

"And Selby-Harrison has just entered the Divinity School, " said Lalage. "He couldn't possibly afford the time. "

"The long days on the steamer, " I said, "would be perfectly invaluableto him. He could read theology from morning to night. There'd benothing, except an occasional albatross, to distract his attention. "

"Those South American republics, " said Miss Pettigrew, "are continuallyhaving revolutions. "

Miss Pettigrew is certainly a very clever woman. Her suggestion wasthe first thing which caused Lalage to waver. A revolution must bevery attractive to a girl of her temperament; and revolutions arecomparatively rare on this side of the Atlantic. Lalage certainlyhesitated. 

"What do you think, Hilda?" she asked. 

For one moment I dared to hope. 

"There's been a lot of gun-running done out there lately, " I said, "andI heard of a new submarine on the Amazon. "

I am afraid I overdid it. Miss Pettigrew certainly frowned at me. 

"Mother would never let me, " said Hilda. 

I had forgotten Hilda's mother for the moment. I saw at once that theidea of gun-running would frighten her and she would not like to thinkof her daughter ploughing the bottom of the Amazon in a submarine. 

"Besides, " said Lalage, "it wouldn't be right. It's our duty, our plainduty, to see this bishopric election through. I'm inclined to think thatthe Archdeacon is the proper man. "

"When do you start for the scene of action?" I asked. 

"At once, " said Lalage. "There's a train at six o'clock this evening. We left poor Pussy packing her bag and ran round to tell Miss Pettigrewabout the change in our plans. I'm dead sick of this old election ofyours, anyhow. Aren't you?"

"I am, " I said fervently. "I'm so sick of it that I don't care if Inever stand for Parliament again. By the way, Lalage, now that you'returning your attention to church affairs wouldn't it be as well tochange the name of the society again. You might call it the EpiscopalElection Association. E. E. A. Would look well at the head of yournotepaper and might be worked up into a monogram. "

"I daresay we shall make a change, " said Lalage, "but if we do we'll bea guild, not a society or an association. Guild is the proper word foranything connected with the church, or high-class furniture, or artneedlework. Selby-Harrison will look into the matter for us. But in anycase it will be all right about you. You'll still be a life member. Comealong, Hilda. We have a lot of people to see before we start. I have togive out badges to about fifty new members. "

"Will that be necessary now?" I asked. 

"Of course. If anything, more. "

"But if you're changing the name of the society?"

"That won't matter in the least. Do come on, Hilda. We shan't have timeif you dawdle on here. In any case Pussy will have to pack our clothesfor us. "

They swept out of the room. Miss Pettigrew got up and shut the doorafter them. The Canon was too much upset to move. 

"I congratulate you, Miss Pettigrew, " I said. "You've succeeded afterall in getting Lalage out of this. I hardly thought you would. "

"This, " said the Canon, "is worse, infinitely worse. "

"I'm not quite sure, " said Miss Pettigrew, "about the procedure in thesecases. Who elects bishops?"

"The Diocesan Synod, " I said. "Isn't that right, Canon?"

"Yes, " he said, gloomily. 

"And who constitutes the Diocesan Synod?" said Miss Pettigrew. 

"A lot of parsons, " I said. "All the parsons there are, and some dearold country gentlemen of blameless lives. Just the people really toappreciate Lalage. "

"We shall have more trouble, " said Miss Pettigrew. 

"Plenty, " I said. "And Thormanby will be in the thick of it. He won'tfind it so easy to wash his hands this time. "

"Nor will you, " said Miss Pettigrew smiling, but I think maliciously. 

"I shall simply stay here, " I said, "and go on having influenza. "

I have so much respect for Miss Pettigrew that I do not like to say shegrinned at me but she certainly employed a smile which an enemy mighthave described as a grin. 

"The election here, " she said, "your election takes place, as Iunderstand, early next week. Your mother will expect you home afterthat. "

"Mothers are often disappointed, " I said. "Look at Hilda's, forinstance. And in any case my mother is a reasonable woman. She'llrespect a doctor's certificate, and McMeekin will give me that if I askhim. "

The Canon had evidently not been attending to what Miss Pettigrew and Iwere saying to one another. He broke in rather abruptly:

"Is there any other place more attractive than Brazil?"

He was thinking of Lalage, not of himself. I do not think he cared muchwhere he went so long as he got far from Ireland. 

"There are, I believe, " I said, "still a few cannibal tribes left in theinterior of Borneo. There are certainly head hunters there. "

"Dyaks, " said Miss Pettigrew. 

"I might try her with them, " said the Canon. 

"If Miss Pettigrew, " I suggested, "will manage Hilda's mother, thething might possibly be arranged. Selby-Harrison could practise being amissionary. "

"I shouldn't like Hilda to be eaten, " said Miss Pettigrew. 

"There's no fear of that, " I said. "Lalage is well able to protect herfrom any cannibal. "

"I'll make the offer, " said the Canon. "Anything would be better thanhaving Lalage attempting to make speeches at the Diocesan Synod. "

Miss Pettigrew had her packing to do and left shortly afterward. TheCanon, who seemed to be really depressed, sat on with me and made plansfor Lalage's immediate future. From time to time, after I exposedthe hollow mockery of each plan, he complained of the tyranny ofcircumstance. 

"If only the bishop hadn't died, " he said. 

The dregs of the influenza were still hanging about me. I lost my temperwith the Canon in the end. 

"If only, " I said, "you'd brought up Lalage properly. "

"I tried governesses, " he said, "and I tried school. "

"The only thing you did not try, " I said, "was what the Archdeaconrecommended, a firm hand. "

"The Archdeacon never married, " said the Canon. "I'm often sorry hedidn't. He wouldn't say things like that if he had a child of his own. "

CHAPTER XVII

There was a great deal of angry feeling in Ballygore and indeed allthrough the constituency when Lalage went home. It was generallybelieved that O'Donoghue, Vittie, and I had somehow driven her away, but this was quite unjust to us and we all three felt it. We felt itparticularly when, one night at about twelve o'clock, a large crowdvisited us in turn and groaned under our windows. O'Donoghue and Vittie, with a view to ingratiating themselves with the electors, wrote lettersto the papers solemnly declaring that they sincerely wished Lalage toreturn. Nobody believed them. Lalage's teaching had sunk so deep intothe popular mind that nobody would have believed anything O'Donoghue andVittie said even if they had sworn its truth. Titherington, who wasbeginning to recover, published a counter blast to their letters. He wasalways quick to seize opportunities and he hoped to increase mypopularity by associating me closely with Lalage. He said that I hadoriginally brought her to Ballygore and he left it to be understood thatI was an ardent member of the Association for the Suppression of PublicLying. Unfortunately nobody believed him. Lalage's crusade had producedan extraordinary effect. Nobody any longer believed anything, not eventhe advertisements. My nurse, among others, became affected with theprevailing feeling of scepticism and refused to accept my word for itthat I was still seriously ill. Even when I succeeded, by placing itagainst the hot water bottle in the bottom of my bed, in running up herthermometer to 103 degrees, she merely smiled. And yet a temperature ofthat kind ought to have convinced her that I really had violent painssomewhere. 

The election itself showed unmistakably the popular hatred of publiclying. There were just over four thousand electors in the division, but only 530 of them recorded their votes. A good many more, nearly athousand more, went to the polling booths and deliberately spoiled theirvoting papers. The returning officer, who kindly came round to my hotelto announce the result, told me that he had never seen so many spoiledvotes at any election. The usual way of invalidating the voting paperwas to bracket the three names and write "All of them liars" across thepaper. Sometimes the word "liars" was qualified by a profane adjective. Sometimes distinctions were made between the candidates and one of uswas declared to be a more skilful or determined liar than the othertwo. O'Donoghue was sometimes placed in the position of the superlativedegree of comparison. So was I. But Vittie suffered most frequently inthis way. Lalage had always displayed a special virulence in dealingwith Vittie's public utterances. The remaining voters, 2470 of them orthereabouts, made a silent protest against our deceitfulness by stayingaway from the polling booths altogether. 

O'Donoghue was elected. He secured 262 of the votes which were notspoiled. I ran him very close, having 260 votes to my credit. Vittiecame a bad third, with only eight votes. Vittie, as Titherington told mefrom the first, never had a chance of success. He was only nominated inthe hope that he might take some votes away from me. I hope his friendswere satisfied with the result. Three of his eight votes would havegiven me a majority. Titherington wrote me a long letter some timeafterward, as soon, in fact, as he was well enough to do sums. He saidthat originally, before Lalage came on the scene, I had 1800 firm andreliable supporters, men who would have walked miles through snowstormsto cast their votes for me. O'Donoghue had about the same number whowould have acted with equal self-denial on his behalf. Vittie wastolerably sure of two hundred voters and there were about two hundredothers who hesitated between Vittie and me, but would rather cut offtheir right hands than vote for O'Donoghue. I ought, therefore, to havebeen elected, and I would have been elected, if Lalage had not turnedthe minds of the voters away from serious political thought. "I do notknow, " Titherington wrote in a sort of parenthesis, "whether these womenhope to advance their cause by tactics of this kind. If they do theyare making a bad mistake. No right-thinking man will ever consent tothe enfranchisement of a sex capable of treating political life with thelevity displayed here by Miss Beresford. " It is very curious how hardTitherington finds it to believe that he has made a mistake. He willprobably go down to his grave maintaining that the letters A. S. P. L. Stand for woman's suffrage, although I pointed out to him more than oncethat they do not. 

The latter part of Titherington's letter was devoted to a carefullyreasoned explanation of the actual victory of O'Donoghue. He accountedfor it in two ways. O'Donoghue's supporters, being inferior ineducation and general intelligence to mine, were less likely to beaffected by new and heretical doctrines such as Lalage's. A certainamount of mental activity is required in order to go wrong. Also, Lalage's professed admiration for truth made its strongest appeal tomy supporters, because O'Donoghue's friends were naturally addictedto lying and loved falsehood for its own sake. My side was, in fact, beaten--I have noticed that this is the case in many elections--becauseit was intellectually and morally the better side. This theory wouldhave been very consoling to me if I had wanted consolation. I did not. Iwas far from grudging O'Donoghue his victory. He, so far as I can learn, is just the man to enjoy hearing other people make long speeches. I havenever developed a taste for that form of amusement. 

The day after the declaration of the result of the election a reallyserious misfortune befell me. McMeekin himself took influenza. There wasa time when I wished very much to hear that he was writhing in the gripof the disease. But those feelings had long passed away from my mind. Ino longer wished any ill to McMeekin. I valued him highly as a medicalattendant, and I particularly needed his skill just when he was snatchedaway from me, because my nurse was becoming restive. She hinted atfirst, and then roundly asserted that I was perfectly well. Nothingbut McMeekin's determined diagnosis of obscure affections of my heart, lungs, and viscera kept her to her duties. She made more than oneattempt to take me out for a drive. I resisted her, knowing that a drivewould, in the end, take me to the railway station and from that home tobe embroiled in the contest between Lalage and the Diocesan Synod. I hada letter from my mother urging me to return home at once and hinting atthe possibility of unpleasantness over the election of the new bishop. This made me the more determined to stay where I was, and so McMeekin'sillness was a very serious blow to me. 

I satisfied myself by inquiry that he was not likely to get wellimmediately and then I sent for another doctor. This man turned out tobe one of my original supporters and I think his feelings must have beenhurt by my calling in McMeekin. He had also, I could see, been greatlyinfluenced by Lalage. He told me, with insulting directness of speech, that there was nothing the matter with me. I could not remember thenames of the diseases which McMeekin said I had or might develop. Thenurse, who could have remembered them if she liked, would not. The newdoctor, an aggressive, red-faced young man, repeated his statement thatI was perfectly well. He emphasized it by refusing to take a fee. Mynurse, with evident delight, packed her box and left by the next train. After that there was nothing for me but to go home. 

My mother must have been disappointed at the result of the East Connorelection. She believed, I fear she still believes, that I am fitted tomake laws and would be happy in the work. But she has great tact. Shedid not, by either word or glance, condole with me over my defeat. 

I also possess a little tact, so I did not exult or express anygratification in her presence. We neither of us mentioned the subject ofthe election. My uncle Thormanby, on the other hand, has no tact at all. He came over to luncheon the day after I arrived home. We had scarcelysat down at table when he began to jeer. 

"Well, " he said, speaking in his usual hearty full-throated way, "betterluck next time. "

"I am not sure, " I said, with dignified coolness, "that there will be anext time. "

"Oh, yes, there will. 'He who fights and runs away will live to fightanother day. '"

I did not see how the proverb applied to me. 

"Do you mean the influenza?" I said. "That was scarcely my fault. Mytemperature was 104. "

"All the same, " said Thormanby, "you didn't exactly stand up to her, didyou?"

I understood then that he was thinking about La-lage. 

"Nor did O'Donoghue, " I said. "And Vittie really was shamming. Titherington told me so. "

"Influenza or no influenza, I shouldn't have sat down under the thingsthat girl was saying about you. "

"What would you have done?"

"I should have put her in her place pretty quick. I'm sorry I wasn'tthere. "

As a matter of fact Thormanby had taken very good care not to bethere. He had washed his hands and put the whole responsibility on theshoulders of Miss Battersby and Miss Pettigrew. I felt it my duty tobring this home to his conscience. 

"Why didn't you come?" I asked. "We'd have been very pleased to seeyou. "

"Peers, " he replied, "are not allowed to interfere in elections. "

This, of course, was a mere subterfuge. I was not inclined to letThormanby escape. 

"You'll have every opportunity, " I said, "of putting her in her placewithout running your head against the British constitution. She means totake an active part in electing the new bishop. "

"Nonsense. There's no part for her to take. That's a matter for thesynod of the diocese and she won't be allowed into its meetings. "

"All the same she'll manage to get in. But of course that won't matter. You'll put her in her place pretty quick. "

Thormanby's tone was distinctly less confident when he next spoke. 

"Do you happen to know, " he asked, "what she means to do?"

"No, I don't. "

"Could you possibly find out? She might tell you if you asked her. "

"I don't intend to ask her. I have washed my hands of the whole affair. "

My mother came into the conversation at this point. 

"Lalage hasn't confided in me, " she said, "but she has told MissBattersby----"

"Ah!" I said, "Miss Battersby is so wonderfully sympathetic. Anybodywould confide in her. "

"She told Miss Battersby, " my mother went on, "that she was studying thesituation and looking into the law of the matter. "

"Let her stick to that, " said Thormanby. 

"Are Hilda and Selby-Harrison down here?" I asked. 

"Hilda is, " said my mother. "I don't know about the other. Who is he orshe?"

"He, " I said, "is the third member of the committee of the EpiscopalElection Guild. He's particularly good at drawing up agreements. Iexpect the Archdeacon will have to sign one. By the way, I suppose he'sthe proper man to vote for?"

"I'm supporting him, " said Thormanby, "so I suppose you will. " I do notlike being hustled in this way. "I shall study the situation, " I said, "before I make up my mind. I am a life member of the Episcopal ElectionGuild and I must allow myself to be guided to some extent by thedecision of the committee. "

"Do you mean to tell me, " said Thormanby, "that you've given that girlmoney again?"

"Not again. My original subscription carries me on from one society toanother. Selby-Harrison arranged about that. "

"I should have thought, " said Thormanby sulkily, "that you'd hadwarnings enough. You will never learn sense even if you live to be ahundred. "

I saw the Archdeacon next day. He tackled the subject of my defeat inEast Connor without hesitation. He has even less tact than Thormanby. 

"I'm sorry for you, my dear boy, " he said, wringing my hand, "more sorrythan I can tell you. These disappointments are very hard to bear at yourage. When you are as old as I am and know how many of them life has instore for all of us, you will not feel them nearly so acutely. "

"I'm trying to bear up, " I said. 

"Your defeat is a public loss. I feel that very strongly. After yourdiplomatic experience and with your knowledge of foreign affairs youradvice would have been invaluable in all questions of imperial policy. "

"I'm greatly gratified to hear you say that. I was afraid you thought Ihad taken to drink. "

"My dear boy, " said the Archdeacon with pained surprise, "what can haveput such an idea into your head?"

"I couldn't help knowing what was in your mind that day in Dublin when Ispoke to you about Lalage's Jun. Soph. Ord. "

I could see that the Archdeacon was uncomfortable. He had certainlyentertained suspicions when we parted in St. Stephen's Green, though hemight now pretend to have forgotten them. 

"You thought so then, " I went on, "though it was quite early in theday. "

"Not at all. I happened to be in a hurry. That is all. I knew perfectlywell it was only your manner. "

"I don't blame you in the least. Anybody might have thought just as youdid. "

"But I didn't. I knew you were upset at the time. You were anxiousabout Lalage Beresford. She's a charming girl, with a very good heart, but----"

The Archdeacon hesitated. 

"But----" I said, encouraging him to go on. 

"Did you hear, " he said, anxiously, "that she intends to take part inthe episcopal election? A rumour to that effect has reached me. "

"I have it on the best authority that she does. "

"Tut, tut, " said the Archdeacon. "Do you tell me so? Tut, tut. Butthat is quite impossible and most undesirable, for her own sake mostundesirable. "

"We're all relying on you to prevent scandal. "

"Your uncle, Lord Thormanby----"

"He'll put her in her place. He's promised to do so. And that will beall right as far as it goes. But the question is will she stay there. That's where you come in, Archdeacon. Once she's in her place it will beyour business, as Archdeacon, to keep her there. "

"I'll speak to her father about it, " said the Archdeacon. "Beresfordmust put his foot down. "

"He's going to Brazil. He told me so. "

"We can't have that. He must stay here. It's perfectly impossible forhim to leave the country at present. I'll see him this evening. "

I told my mother that night that I had studied the situation long enoughand was fully determined to cast my vote for the Archdeacon. 

"He is thoroughly well fitted to be a bishop, " I said. "He told meto-day that my knowledge of foreign affairs would be most valuable tothe government whenever questions of imperial policy turned up. "

My mother seemed a little puzzled. 

"What has that got to do with the bishopric?" she asked. 

"The remark, " I said, "shows me the kind of man the Archdeacon is. Noone who was not full of suave dignity and sympathetic diplomacy couldhave said a thing like that. What more do you want in a bishop?"

"A great deal more, " said my mother, who takes these church questionsseriously. 

"He also undertook, " I said, "to keep Lalage in her place once she isput there. "

"If he does that----"

"I quite agree with you. If he does that he ought to be a bishop, or aMetropolitan, if not a Patriarch. That's why I'm going to vote for him. "

CHAPTER XVIII

My mother appeared to think that I had grown lazy since I recovered frommy attack of influenza. She continually pressed me to take exercise andinvented a hundred different excuses for getting me out of doors. WhenI saw that her heart was really set on seeing me walk I did what I couldto gratify her. I promised to go over to the rectory after luncheon onthe very next fine day. There seemed no prospect of a fine day for atleast a month, and so I felt tolerably safe in making the promise. Butthere is nothing so unreliable as weather, especially Irish weather. Ihad no sooner made my promise than the clouds began to break. At twelveo'clock it stopped raining. At one the sun was shining with provokingbrilliancy. I tried to ignore the change and at luncheon complainedbitterly of the cold. My mother, by way of reply, remarked on thecheerful brightness of the sunshine. She did not, in so many words, askme to redeem my promise, but I knew what was in her mind. 

"All right, " I said, "I'm going. I shall put on a pair of thick boots. Ishould prefer driving, but of course----"

"Walking will be much better for you. " "That's just what I was going tosay, I shall run a certain amount of risk, of course. I may drop downexhausted. I am still very weak; weaker than I look. Or I may getoverheated. Or I may get too cold. "

My mother, curiously enough, for she was very fond of me, did not seemfrightened. 

"McMeekin told me, " I went on, "that a relapse after influenza is nearlyalways fatal. However, I have made my will and I fully intend to walk. "

I did walk as far as the gate lodge and about a hundred yards beyondit. It was not in any way my fault that I got no farther. I was actuallybeginning to like walking and should certainly have gone on if Lalagehad not stopped me. She and Hilda were in the Canon's pony trap, drivingfuriously. Lalage held the reins. Hilda clung with both hands to theside of the trap. The pony was galloping hard and foaming at the mouth. I stepped aside when I saw them coming and climbed more than halfway upa large wooden gate which happened to be near me at the time. The roadwas very muddy and I did not want to be splashed from head to foot. Besides, there was a risk of being run over. When Lalage caught sight ofme she pulled up the pony with a jerk. 

"We were just going to see you, " she said. "It's great luck catching youlike this. What's simony?"

I climbed down from the gate, slowly, so as to get time to think. The question surprised me and I was not prepared to give, offhand, adefinition of simony. 

"I don't know, " I said at last, "but I think, in fact I'm nearly sure, that it is some kind of ecclesiastical offence, perhaps a heresy. Wereyou coming to see me in order to find out?"

"Yes, That's the reason we were in such a terrific hurry. "

"Quite so, " I said. "I was a little surprised at first to see yougalloping, but now I understand. "

"Would it, " said Lalage, "be simony to cheek an Archdeacon?"

"It might. It very well might. Is that what you've done, Hilda?"

"I didn't, " said Hilda. 

"You did, just as much as me, " said Lalage, "and it was to you he saidit, so he evidently meant you. Not that either of us did cheek himreally. "

"Why didn't you ask your father?" I said. "He's a Canon and he'd bealmost sure to know. "

"I didn't like to speak to him about it until I knew what it was. Itmight turn out to be something that I wouldn't care to talk to himabout, something--you know the kind of thing I mean. "

"Improper?"

"Not quite so bad as that, but the same sort. "

"Risqué? But surely the Archdeacon wouldn't say anything the least----"

"You never know, " said Lalage. 

"And if it had been that Hilda would never have done it. "

"I didn't, " said Hilda. 

"Of course if it's nothing worse than ordinary cheek, " said Lalage, "Ishouldn't have minded talking to father about it in the least. But Idon't see how it could be that, for we didn't cheek him. Did we, Hilda?"

"I didn't, " said Hilda. 

"If there'd been anything of the other sort about it--and it soundsrather like that, doesn't it?"

"Very, " I said; "but you can't trust sounds. "

"Anyhow, we thought it safer to come to you, " said Lalage. 

"That was nice of you both. "

"I don't see anything nice about it one way or the other, " said Lalage. "We simply thought that if it was anything--anything not quite ladylike, you'd be sure to know all about it. "

I do not know why Lalage should saddle me with a reputation of thiskind. I have never done anything to deserve it. My feelings were hurt. 

"As it turns out not to be improper, " I said, "there's no use coming tome. "

I spoke severely, in cold tones, with great stiffness of manner. Lalagewas not in the least snubbed. 

"Have you any book in the house that would tell you?" she asked. 

"I have a dictionary. "

"Stupid of me, " said Lalage, "not to have thought of a dictionary, andfrightfully stupid of you, Hilda. You ought to have thought of it. Youwere always fonder of dictionaries than I was. There are two or threeof them in the rectory. We might have gone straight there and looked itout. We'll go now. "

"If it's a really pressing matter, " I said, "you'll save a few minutesby coming back with me. You're fully a quarter of a mile from therectory this minute. "

"Right, " said Lalage. "Let down the back of the trap and hop up. We'lldrive you. "

I let down the seat and then hopped. I hopped quite a long way beforeI succeeded in getting up. For Lalage started before I was nearly readyand urged the pony to a gallop at once. When we reached the house I sentthe unfortunate animal round to the stable yard, with orders that hewas to be carefully rubbed down and then walked about until he was cool. Lalage, followed by Hilda and afterward by me, went into the library. 

"Now, " she said, "trot out your best dictionary. "

I collected five, one of them an immense work in four volumes, and laidthem in a row on the table. 

"Hilda, " said Lalage, "look it out. "

Hilda chose, the largest dictionary and after a short hesitation pickedup the volume labelled "Jab to Sli. " She stared at the word withoutspeaking for some time after she found it. Lalage and I looked over hershoulder and, when we saw the definition, stared too. It was Lalage whoread it out in the end:

"Simony from Simon Magus, Acts VIII. The crime of buying or sellingecclesiastical preferment or the corrupt presentation of any one to anecclesiastical benefice for money or reward. "

I own that I was puzzled. Lalage is a person of great originality anddaring, but I did not see how even she could possibly have committedsimony. She and Hilda looked at each other. There was an expression ofgenuine astonishment on their faces. 

"Do you think, " said Lalage at last, "that the Archdeacon could by anychance have gone suddenly dotty in the head?"

"He was quite sane the day before yesterday, " I said. "I was talking tohim. "

"Well, then, I don't understand it. Whatever else we did we didn't dothat or anything like it. Did we, Hilda?"

"I didn't, " said Hilda, who seemed as unwilling as ever to answer forLalage. 

"For one thing, " said Lalage, "we hadn't got any ecclesiasticalpreferments to sell and we hadn't any money to buy them, so we couldn'thave simonied even if we'd wanted to. But he certainly said we had. Justtell exactly what he did say, Hilda. It was to you he said it. "

Hilda, with a very fair imitation of the Archdeacon's manner, repeatedhis words:

"'Young lady, are you aware that this is the sin of simony?'"

I took the dictionary in my hand. 

"There's a bit more, " I said, "that you didn't read. Perhaps there issome secondary meaning in the word. I'll go on: 'By stat: 31 ElizabethC. Vn. Severe penalties are enacted against this crime. In the church ofScotland simonaical practices----' Well, we're not in Scotland anyhow, so we needn't go into that. I wonder if stat: 31 Elizabeth C. VII runsin this country. Some don't; but it sounds to me rather as if it would. If it does, you're in a nasty fix, Lalage; you and Hilda. Severalpenalties can hardly mean less than imprisonment with hard labour. 

"But we didn't do it, " said Lalage. 

"The Archdeacon appears to think you did, " I said, "both of you, especially Hilda. You must have done something. You'd better tell meexactly what occurred from the beginning of the interview until the end. I'll try and pick out what struck the Archdeacon as simonaical. I don'twant to see either of you run in for severe penalties if we can help it. I expect the best thing will be to repent and apologize at once. "

"Repent of what?" said Lalage. 

"That's what I want to find out. Begin at the beginning now and give methe whole story. "

"We drove over this morning, " said Lalage, "to see the Archdeacon. Ididn't want to go a bit, for the Archdeacon is particularly horrid whenhe's nice, as he is just at present. But Selby-Harrison said we ought. "

"Is Selby-Harrison here?"

"No. He wrote from Dublin. He's been looking up the subject of bishopsin the college library so that we'd know exactly what we ought to do. "

"He should have looked up simony first thing. I can't forgiveSelby-Harrison for letting you in for those severe penalties. "

"There wasn't a bit of harm in what he said. It was nearly all out ofthe Bible and the ancient Fathers of the Church and Councils and things. It couldn't have been simony. You have his letter, haven't you, Hilda?Read it out. "

Hilda opened the small bag she always carries and took out the letter. It looked to me a very long one. 

"I don't know, " I said, "that Selby-Harrison's letter really mattersunless you read it out to the Archdeacon. "

"We didn't get the chance, " said Lalage, "although we meant to. "

"Then you needn't read it to me. "

"We must. Otherwise you won't know why we went to see the Archdeacon. "

"Couldn't you give me in a few words a general idea of the contents ofthe letter?"

"You do that, Hilda, " said Lalage. 

"It was nothing, " said Hilda, "but a list of the things a bishop oughtto be. "

"Qualifications for the office, " said Lalage. 

"And you went over to the Archdeacon to find out whether he came up tothe standard. I'm beginning to understand. "

"I thought at the time, " said Hilda, "that it was rather cheek. "

"It was, " I said, "but it doesn't seem to me, so far, to amount toactual simony. "

"It was a perfectly natural and straightforward thing to do, " saidLalage. "How could we possibly support the Archdeacon in the electionunless we'd satisfied ourselves that he had the proper qualifications?"

"Anyhow, " I said, "whether the Archdeacon mistook it for cheek ornot--and I can quite understand that he might--it wasn't simony. "

"That's just what bothers us, " said Lalage. "Do you think thatdictionary of yours could possibly be wrong?"

"It might, " I said. "Let's try another. "

Hilda tried three others. The wording of their definitions varied, butthey were all in substantial agreement with the first. 

"There must, " I said, "have been something in the questions which youput to the Archdeacon which suggested simony to his mind. What did youask him?"

"I didn't ask him anything. I intended to but I hadn't time. He was ontop of us with his old simony before I opened my mouth. "

"You did say one thing, " said Hilda. 

"Then that must have been it, " I said. 

"It wasn't in the least simonious, " said Lalage. "In fact itwasn't anything at all. It was merely a polite way of beginning theconversation. "

"All the same, " I said. "It was simony. It must have been, for there wasnothing else. What was it?"

"It wasn't of any importance, " said Lalage. "I simply said--just in theway you might say you hoped his cold was better without meaning anythingin particular--that I supposed if he was elected bishop he'd make fatherarchdeacon. "

"Ah!" I said. 

"He flew out at that straight away. Rather ridiculous of him, wasn't it?He can't be both bishop and archdeacon, so he needn't try. He must giveup the second job to some one or other. I'd have thought he'd have seenthat at once. "

I referred to the dictionary. 

"'Or the corrupt presentation of any one to an eccelesiastical beneficefor money or reward. ' That's where he has you, Lalage. You were offeringto present him----"

"I wasn't. How could I?"

"He thought you were, any how, And the reward in this case evidently wasthat your father should be made into an archdeacon. "

"That's the greatest nonsense I ever heard. It wouldn't be a reward. Father would simply hate it. "

"The Archdeacon couldn't be expected to understand that. Having held theoffice for so long himself he naturally regards it as highly desirable. "

"What about the penalties?" said Hilda nervously. 

"By far the best thing you can do, " I said, "is to grovel profusely. If you both cast ashes on your heads and let the tears run down yourcheeks----"

"If the Archdeacon is such a fool as you're trying to make out, " saidLalage, "I shall simply write to him and say that nothing on earth wouldinduce me to allow my father to parade the country dressed up in anapron and a pair of tight black gaiters. "

"If you say things like that to him, " I said, "he'll exact thepenalties. See stat: 31 Elizabeth C. VII. You may not mind, but Hilda'smother will. "

"Yes, " said Hilda, "she'll be frightfully angry. "

At this moment my mother came into the library. 

"Thank goodness, " said Lalage, "we have some one at last who can talksense. "

My mother looked questioningly at me. I offered her an explanation ofthe position in the smallest possible number of words. 

"The Archdeacon, " I said, "is going to put Lalage and Hilda into prisonfor simony. "

"He can't, " said Lalage, "for we didn't do it. "

"They did, " I said, "both of them. They offered to present theArchdeacon corruptly to an ecclesiastical benefice for a reward. "

"It wasn't a reward. "

"Lalage, " said my mother, "have you been meddling with this bishopricelection?"

"I simply tried, " said Lalage, "to find out whether he was properlyqualified. "

"You did more than that, " I said; "you tried to get a reward. "

"If you take my advice----" said my mother. 

"I will, " said Lalage, "and so will Hilda. "

That threatening statute of Queen Elizabeth's must have frightenedLalage. I never before knew her so meek. 

"Then leave the question of the Archdeacon's qualifications, " said mymother, "to those who have to elect him. "

"Not to me, " I said hurriedly. "I couldn't work through that list ofSelby-Harrison's. Try my uncle. Try Lord Thormanby. He'll like it. "

"There's one thing----" said Lalage. 

"Leave it to the synod, " said my mother. 

"Or to Lord Thormanby, " I said. 

"Very well, " said Lalage. "I will. But perhaps he won't care to go intoit, and if he doesn't I shall have to act myself. "

"He will, " I said. "He has a perfectly tremendous sense ofresponsibility. "

"And now, " said my mother, "come along, all of you, to the drawing-roomand have tea. "

"Is it all right?" said Hilda anxiously to me as we left the room. 

"Quite, " I said; "there'll be no prosecution. My mother can do anythingshe likes with the Archdeacon, just as she does with Lalage. He'll notenforce a single penalty. "

"She's wonderful, " said Hilda. 

I quite agreed. She is. Even Miss Pettigrew could not do as much. It wasmore by good luck than anything else that she succeeded in luring Lalageaway from Ballygore. 

CHAPTER XIX

I congratulated my mother that night on her success in dealing withLalage. 

"Your combination, " I said, "of tact, firmness, sympathy, andreasonableness was most masterly. "

My mother smiled gently. I somehow gathered from her way of smiling thatshe thought my congratulations premature. 

"Surely, " I said, "you don't think she'll break out again. She made youa definite promise. "

"She'll keep her promise to the letter, " said my mother, still smilingin the same way. 

"If she does, " I said, "she can't do anything very bad. "

It turned out--it always does--that my mother was right and I was wrong. The next morning at breakfast a note was handed to me by the footman. He said it had been brought over from Thormanby Park by a groom onhorseback. It was marked "Urgent" in red ink. 

Thormanby acts at times in a violent and impulsive manner. If I werehis uncle, and so qualified by relationship to give him the advicehe frequently gives me, I should recommend him to cultivate repose ofmanner and leisurely dignity of action. He is a peer of this realm, andhas, besides, been selected by his fellow peers to represent them inthe House of Lords. He ought not to send grooms scouring the country atbreakfast time, carrying letters which look, on the outside, as if theyannounced the discovery of dangerous conspiracies. I said this and moreto my mother before opening the envelope, and she seemed to agree withme that the political and social decay of our aristocracy is to someextent to be traced to their excitability and lack of self-control. Byway of demonstrating my own calm, I laid the envelope down beside myplate and refrained from opening it until I had finished the kidney Iwas eating at the time. The letter, when I did read it, turned out to bequite as hysterical as the manner of its arrival. Thormanby summoned meto his presence--there is no other way of describing the style in whichhe wrote--and ordered me to start immediately. 

"I can't imagine what has gone wrong, " I said. "Do you think that MissBattersby can have gone suddenly mad and assaulted one of the girls witha battle axe?"

"It is far more likely that Lalage has done something, " said my mother. 

"After her promise to you what could she have done?"

"She might have kept it. "

I thought this over and got a grip on the meaning by degrees. 

"You mean, " I said, "that she has appealed to my uncle on some pointabout the Archdeacon's qualifications. "

"Exactly. "

"But that wouldn't upset him so much. "

"It depends on what the point is. "

"She's extraordinarily ingenious, " I said. "Perhaps I'd better go overto Thormanby Park and see. "

"Finish your breakfast, " said my mother. "I'll order the trap for you. "

I arrived at Thormanby Park shortly after ten o'clock. The door wasopened to me by Miss Battersby. She confessed that she had been watchingfor me from the window of the morning room which looks out over thedrive. She squeezed my hand when greeting me and held it so long thatI was sure she was suffering from some acute anxiety. She also spokebreathlessly, in a sort of gasping whisper, as if she had been runninghard. She had not, of course, run at all. The gasps were due toexcitement and agony. 

"I'm so glad you've come, " she said. "I knew you would. Lord Thormanbyis waiting for you in the library. I do hope you won't say anything tomake it worse. You'll try not to, won't you?"

I gathered from this that it, whatever it was, must be very bad already. 

"Lalage?" I said. 

Miss Battersby nodded solemnly. 

"My mother told me it must be that, before I started. "

"If you could, " said Miss Battersby persuasively, "and if you would----"

"I can and will, " I said. "What is it?"

"I don't know. But I can't bear to think of poor little Lalage bearingall the blame. "

"I can't well take the blame, " I said, "although I'm perfectly willingto do so, unless I can find out what it is she's done. "

"I don't know. I wish I did. There was a letter from her this morning toLord Thormanby, but he didn't show it to me. "

"If it's in her handwriting, " I said, "there's no use my saying I wroteit. He wouldn't believe me. But if it's typewritten and not signed, I'llsay it's mine. "

"Oh, I wouldn't ask you to do so much as that. Besides, it wouldn't betrue. "

"It won't be true in any case, " I said, "if I take even part of theblame. "

"But you mustn't say what isn't true. "

Miss Battersby is unreasonable, though she means well. It is clearlyimpossible for me to be strictly truthful and at the same time to claim, as my own, misdeeds of which I do not even know the nature. I walkedacross the hall in the direction of the library door. Miss Battersbyfollowed me with her hand on my arm. 

"Do your best for her, " she whispered pleadingly. 

Thormanby was certainly in a very bad temper. He was sitting at the farside of a large writing table when I entered the room. He did not riseor shake hands with me. He simply pushed a letter across the tabletoward me with the end of a paper knife. His action gave me theimpression that the letter was highly infectious. 

"Look at that, " he said. 

I looked and saw at once that it was in Lalage's handwriting. I wasobliged to give up the idea of claiming it as mine. 

"Why don't you read it?" said Thormanby. 

"I didn't know you wanted me to. Do you?"

"How the deuce are you to know what's in it if you don't read it?"

"It's quite safe, I suppose?"

"Safe? Safe? What do you mean?"

"When I saw you poking at it with that paper knife I thought it might bepoisoned. "

Thormanby growled and I took up the letter. Lalage has a courteous butperfectly lucid style. I read:

"Dear Lord Thormanby, as a member of the Diocesan Synod you are, I feelsure, quite as anxious as I am that only a really suitable man shouldbe elected bishop. I therefore enclose a carefully drawn list of thenecessary and desirable qualifications for that office. "

"You have the list?" I said. 

"Yes. She sent the thing. She has cheek enough for anything. "

"Selby-Harrison drew it up, so if there's anything objectionable in ithe's the person you ought to blame, not Lalage. "

I felt that I was keeping my promise to Miss Battersby. I had succeededin implicating another culprit. Not more than half the blame was nowLalage's. 

"The _sine qua nons_, " the letter went on, "are marked with red crosses, the _desiderata_ in black. "

"I'm glad, " I said, "that she got one plural right. By the way, I wonderwhat the plural of that phrase really is. It can't be _sines qua non_, and yet _sine quibus_ sounds pedantic. "

I said this in the hope of mitigating Thormanby's wrath by turning histhoughts into another channel. 

I failed. He merely growled again. I went on reading the letter:

"You will observe at once that the Archdeacon, whom we should all liketo have as our new bishop, possesses every requirement for the officeexcept one, number fifteen on the enclosed list, marked for convenienceof reference, with a violet asterisk. "

"What is the missing _sine qua?_" I asked. "Don't tell me if it'sprivate. "

"It's--it's--damn it all, look for yourself. " He flung a typewrittensheet of foolscap at me. I picked my way carefully among the red andblack crosses until I came to the violet asterisk. 

"No. 15. 'A bishop must be the husband of one wife'--I Tim: III. "

"That's rather a poser, " I said, "if true. It seems to me to put theArchdeacon out of the running straight off. "

"No. It doesn't, " said Thormanby. "That's where the girl's infernalinsolence comes in. "

I read:

"This obstacle, though under the present circumstances an absolute bar, is fortunately remedial. "

"I wish Lalage would be more careful, " I said, "she ought to havewritten 'remediable. ' However her meaning is quite plain. "

"It gets plainer further on, " said Thormanby grinning. 

This was the first time I had seen him grin since I came into the room. I took it for an encouraging sign. 

Lalage's letter went on:

"The suggestion of the obvious remedy, must be made by some one, forthe Archdeacon has evidently not thought of it himself. It would comeparticularly well from you, occupying as you do a leading position inthe diocese. Unfortunately the time at our disposal is very short, and it will hardly do to leave the Archdeacon without some practicalsuggestion for the immediate-remedying of the sad defect. What you willhave to offer him is a scheme thoroughly worked out and perfect in everydetail. The name of Miss Battersby will probably occur to you at once. Ineed not remind you of her sweet and lovable disposition. You have beenlong acquainted with her, and will recognize in her a lady peculiarlywell suited to share an episcopal throne. "

Thormanby became almost purple in the face as I read out the finalsentences of the letter. I saw that he was struggling with some strongemotion and suspected that he wanted very much to laugh. If he did hesuppressed the desire manfully. His forehead was actually furrowed witha frown when I had finished. I laid the letter down on the table andtapped it impressively with my forefinger. 

"That, " I said, "strikes me as a remarkably good suggestion. "

Thormanby exploded. 

"Of all the damned idiots I've ever met, " he said, "you're the worst. Do you mean to say that you expect me to drag Miss Battersby over to theArchdeacon's house and dump her down there in a white satin dress witha wedding ring tied round her neck by a ribbon and a stodgy cake tuckedunder her arm?"

"I haven't actually worked out all the details, " I said. "I am thinkingmore of the plan in its broad outlines. After all, the Archdeacon isn'tmarried. We can't get over that. If that text of First Timothy is reallybinding--I don't myself know whether it is or not, but I'm inclinedto take Selby-Harrison's word for it that it is. He's in the DivinitySchool and has been making a special study of the subject. If he'sright, there's no use our electing the Archdeacon and then having theLocal Government Board coming down on us afterward for appointing anunqualified man. You remember the fuss they made when the Urban DistrictCouncil took on a cookery instructress who hadn't got her diploma. "

"That wasn't the Local Government Board. It was the Department ofAgriculture. But in any case neither the one nor the other of them hasanything in the world to do with bishops. "

"Don't you be too sure of that. I expect you'll find they have if youappoint a man who isn't properly qualified, and the law on the subjectis perfectly plain. "

"Rot! Lots of bishops aren't married. Texts of that sort never mean whatthey seem to mean. "

"What's the good of running risks, " I said, "when the remedy is in ourown hands? I don't see that the Archdeacon could do better than MissBattersby. She's wonderfully sympathetic. "

"You'd better go and tell him so yourself. "

"I would, I'd go like a shot, only most unluckily he's got it into hishead that I've taken to drink. He might think, just at first, that Iwasn't quite myself if I went to him with a suggestion of that sort. "

"There'd be some excuse for him if he did, " said Thormanby. 

"Whereas, if you, who have always been strictly temperate----"

"I didn't send for you, " said Thormanby, "to stand there talking like aborn fool. What I want you to do----"

He paused and blew his nose with some violence. 

"Yes?" I said. 

"Is to go and put a muzzle on that girl of Beresford's. "

"If you're offering me a choice, " I said, "I'd a great deal rather dragMiss Battersby over to the Archdeacon's house and dump her down there ina wedding ring with a white satin dress tied round her neck by a ribbon. I might manage that, but I'm constitutionally unfitted to deal withLalage. It was you who said you would put her in her place. I told theArchdeacon he could count on you. "

"I'll see Beresford to-day, anyhow. "

"Not the least use. He's going to one of the South American republicswhere there's no extradition. "

"I'll speak to your mother about it. "

"As a matter of fact, " I said, "Lalage is acting strictly in accordancewith my mother's instructions in referring this matter to you. Why nottry Miss Pettigrew?"

"I will. Who is she?"

"She used to be Lalage's schoolmistress. "

"Does she use the cane?"

"This, " I said, "is entirely your affair. I've washed my hands of itso I'm not even offering advice, but if I were you I'd be careful aboutanything in the way of physical violence. Remember that Lalage hasSelby-Harrison behind her and he knows the law. You can see for yourselfby the way he ferreted out that text of First Timothy that he has thebrain of a first-rate solicitor. "

I left the room after that. In the hall Miss Battersby waylaid me again. 

"Is it all right?" she asked anxiously. 

"Not quite. My uncle is writing to Miss Pettigrew. "

"She won't come. I'm sure she won't. She told me herself when we were inBallygore that for the future she intends to watch Lalage's performancesfrom a distance. "

"She may make an exception in this case, " I said. "If my uncle statesit at all fully in his letter it can scarcely fail to make an appeal toher. "

Miss Battersby sighed. She was evidently not hopeful. 

"Lalage is such a dear girl, " she said. "It is a sad pity that shewill----"

"She's always trying to do right. "

"Always, " said Miss Battersby fervently. 

"That's why it's generally so difficult for other people. "

"The world, " said Miss Battersby, "is very hard. "

"And desperately wicked. If it were even moderately straightforward andhonest Lalage would have been canonized long ago. "

"She's a little foolish sometimes. "

"All great reformers, " I said, "appear foolish to the people of theirown generation. It's only afterward that their worth is recognized. "

Miss Battersby sighed again. Then she shook hands with me. 

"I must go to Lord Thormanby, " she said, "He'll want me to write hisletters for him. "

"He won't want you to write that one to Miss Pettigrew. He has hisfaults of temper, but he's essentially a gentleman, and he wouldn'tdream of asking you to write that particular letter for him. I don'tthink you need go to him yet. Stay and talk to me about Lalage and thehardness of the world. "

"If he doesn't want me, " she said, "I ought to settle the flowers. "

It really is a pity that Thormanby will not persuade the Archdeacon tomarry Miss Battersby. Besides being sweet and lovable, as Lalage pointedout, she has a strong sense of duty which would be quite invaluablein the diocese. Very few people after an agitating morning would gostraight off to settle flowers. 

CHAPTER XX

I looked at my watch as I got into my trap and found that it was eleveno'clock, not more than two hours since my uncle's letter had been handedto me at the breakfast table. Yet I felt thoroughly tired. No one whohas only just recovered from influenza ought to be called upon to facea crisis. At the best of times a crisis of any magnitude is too much forme. When I am weak anything of the sort exhausts me rapidly. It is mostunfair that I should be beset with crises as I am. Other men, men wholike excitement and unexpected calls for exertion, are condemned toyears of unbroken monotony. I, who desire nothing so much as peace, have tumult and turmoil thrust upon me. I drove down the long avenue ofThormanby Park and determined to get home as quickly as possible. Thereis a greenhouse at the bottom of our garden which at that time was quiteunfrequented because something had gone wrong with the heating apparatusand the more delicate plants had been removed from it. I intended toretire to it as soon as I got home with a hammock chair and a novel. Ihad every hope of being left in peace for an hour or so. 

That was my plan. It proved, as all my plans do, unworkable; but, asis always the case, through no fault of my own. At the gate lodge ofThormanby Park I met Lalage. She was riding a bicycle and jumped down assoon as she saw me. I pulled up my pony, of course. Even if Lalagehad not jumped down I should have pulled up the pony. Lalage is a sureharbinger of trouble. Crises attend her course through life. Yet Icannot help stopping to talk to her when I get the chance. I suppose Iam moved by some obscure instinct which makes me wish to know the worstin store for me as soon as possible. 

"I'm darting on, " said Lalage, "to secure Pussy Battersby, but Istopped for a moment to tell you to go straight to the rectory. "

"You can't get Miss Battersby now. She's settling flowers. "

"I must. She's of the utmost importance. I must bring her back with me. "

"Has the Archdeacon arrived unexpectedly?"

"No. What on earth put that into your head? Good-bye. "

"Wait a minute, Lalage. Take my advice and don't go on. It's not safe. My uncle is threatening you with all sorts of violence. You can guessthe sort of temper he's in. "

"Gout?"

"No. Your letter. "

"My letter? Oh, yes. I'd forgotten that letter for the moment. You meanthe one I wrote to him about the Archdeacon's marriage. "

"Now you know why you'd better not go near him for a day or two. "

"Silly old ass, isn't he, to lose his temper about that? But I can'tstop to argue. I must get Pussy Battersby at once. There isn't a momentto spare. "

"If the Archdeacon hasn't turned up, what on earth do you want her for?"

"The fact is, " said Lalage, "that Hilda's mother is at the rectory. "

"I thought she'd arrive some day. You couldn't expect to keep her at bayforever. The wonder is that she didn't come long ago. "

"She travelled by the night mail and was rather dishevelled when shearrived, hair a bit tousled, a smut on the end of her nose and a generallook of crinklyness about her clothes. Hilda has been in floods of tearsand sobbing like a steam engine all morning. "

"I don't wonder at all. Any nice-minded girl would. It can't be pleasantfor her to see her mother in such a state. "

"Don't drivel, " said Lalage. "Hilda isn't crying for that. She's not aperfect idiot, whatever you may say. "

"I didn't say anything of the sort. I said she was a nice-minded girl. "

"Same thing, " said Lalage, "and she's not either the one or the other. "

"Then why is she crying?"

"Because her mother is taking her home. That's the reason I'm going forPussy Battersby. "

"She'll be a poor substitute for Hilda, " I said. "She'll boggle atsimony every time. "

"What are you talking about now?"

"Miss Battersby. I'm trying to explain that she'll hardly be able totake Hilda's place as the companion of your revels. "

"What I'm getting her for, " said Lalage severely, "is to restore theconfidence of Hilda's mother. She doesn't trust me one bit, sillyof her, isn't it? And she's ragged poor father into a condition ofincoherence. "

"Will Miss Battersby be any use? I should hardly have thought her thesort of person who would deal successfully with a frantic mother. "

"She's tremendously respectable, " said Lalage, "and Hilda's mother willhave absolute confidence in her the moment she sees her. Remember howshe agreed to that Portugal trip once she knew Pussy was to be withus, and she hadn't even seen her then. When I trot her out there'll beabsolutely no further trouble. Good-bye, I must be darting on. "

Lalage put her foot on the pedal and balanced the bicycle. 

I stopped her again. 

"You said something about my going to the rectory, " I said. "What am Ito do when I get there?"

"Attend to Hilda's mother of course. "

"Do you mean that I'm to take a basin of hot water and a sponge and washher nose? I couldn't possibly. I don't know her nearly well enough. I'dhardly venture to do such a thing to Hilda herself. "

"I wasn't thinking of the smut on her nose, " said Lalage. "What I wantyou to do is to keep her in play till I get back. I sha'n't be long, butit's not possible to start Pussy Battersby off on the first hop. She'llwant to titivate a little. "

"If you think I'll be any use----"

"Of course you will. You're very nearly as respectable to look at asPussy Battersby. "

"I shall hate to see Hilda crying. "

"Then cheer her up. Good-bye for the present. "

This time Lalage really did mount the bicycle. I drove on in thedirection of the rectory, turning over in my mind various plans forkeeping Hilda's mother in play. Some of them were very good plans whichI think would have been successful, but I shall never be certain aboutthat because I did not have the chance of putting them to the test. 

A mile from the rectory gate I met a car. There was a good deal ofluggage piled on the well, and two ladies sat together on one side. Irecognized Hilda at once. The other lady I supposed, quite rightly, tobe her mother. I ought, I saw afterward, to have made some effort, evenat that eleventh hour, to keep her in play. I do not think I could havesucceeded, but it was certainly my duty to try. My nerve unfortunatelyfailed and I simply drove past, raising my hat and bowing sorrowfully toHilda. 

When the car was out of sight I stopped to consider my position. Therewas nothing to prevent my returning home at once and settling down, asI had originally planned, in the corner of the deserted greenhouse. Myinclination was, of course, to do this, but it occurred to me that itwould be a charitable and kindly action to comfort Canon Beresford. Hehad, so Lalage told me, been reduced to a condition of incoherence bythe ragging of Hilda's mother. He was also likely to have been a gooddeal distressed by the sight of Hilda's tears and the sound of her sobs. He would probably be sorry to lose Hilda. In spite of anything Lalagemight say I still believed Hilda to be a nice-minded girl, the sort ofgirl that any man would like to have staying in his house. For all threereasons the Canon would require sympathy and comfort. I drove on to therectory. 

There I had, once more, to reconsider my position. The Canon wascomforting himself. He had, so the maid informed me, gone out fishing. My first impulse was to start for home with a sigh of relief. . ThenI remembered that some one would have to explain to Lalage and MissBattersby that Hilda and her mother had really gone. The Canon would notbe able to do this because he had gone out fishing before they left. Themaid was obviously a stupid girl. It seemed to be my duty to wait forLalage and tell her, soothingly, what had happened. I went into theCanon's study and made myself comfortable with a pipe. 

At about one o'clock Lalage arrived without Miss Battersby. She madeno comment at first on the absence of Hilda's mother. Her mind hadevidently been turned away from that subject. She flung herself into achair, and dragged furiously at the pins which fastened on her hat. Whenshe had worked them loose she threw the hat itself on the floor. 

"Great Scott!" she said. "I've had a time of it!"

"I rather thought you would. "

"Curious, isn't it? For he can be a perfect pet when he likes. Glad Idon't get gout. "

"You know perfectly well that it wasn't gout which was the matter withhim this time. "

"It can't have been all my letter, can it?"

"It was, " I said. 

"Of course I wasn't going to stand that sort of thing, " said Lalage. 

"What sort of thing?"

"The way he talked, or, rather, tried to talk. I soon stopped him. That's what makes me so hot. I wish you'd seen poor Pussy's face. I wasafraid every minute he'd mention her name and then she would have diedof shame. That's just the kind of thing which would make Pussy reallyill. "

"What did you say to him?"

"I told him that it was his plain duty to put the matter before theArchdeacon and that if he didn't do it I should simply get some one elseand then he'd jolly well feel ashamed of himself and be afraid to lookany one in the face for weeks and weeks. I didn't mention that Pussywas the future wife, of course. I'm much too fond of her to hurt herfeelings. "

I should have liked to hear a description of the expression on MissBattersby's face. I should also have liked to hear what my uncle said inreply to Lalage's remarks, but I felt an anxiety so acute as greatly todull my curiosity. 

"Had you any one particular in your mind, " I asked, "when you said thatyou'd get somebody else to go to the Archdeacon?"

"Of course I had, " said Lalage. "You. "

"I was just afraid you might be thinking of that. "

"You'll do it of course. "

"No, " I said, "I won't. There are reasons which I gave to my uncle thismorning which made it quite impossible for me----"

"You're not thinking of marrying her yourself, are you?"

"Certainly not. "

"Then there can't be any real reason----"

"Lalage, " I said, "there is. I don't like to mention the subject to you;but the fact is----"

"If it's anything disagreeable I'd much rather not hear it. "

"It is, very; though it's not true. "

"You appear to me to be getting into a tangle, " said Lalage, "so you'dbetter not go on. If you're afraid of the Archdeacon--and I suppose thatis what your excuses will come to in the end--I'll do it myself. Afterall, you'd most likely have made a mess of it. "

I bore the insult meekly. I was anxious, if possible, to persuade Lalageto drop the idea of marrying the Archdeacon to Miss Battersby. 

"Remember your promise to my mother, " I said. 

"I've kept it. I submitted the matter to Lord Thormanby just as I said Iwould. If he won't act I can't help it. "

"The Archdeacon will be frightfully angry. "

Lalage sniffed slightly. I could see that the thought of theArchdeacon's wrath did not frighten her. I should have been surprised ifit had. After facing Thormanby in the morning the Archdeacon would seemnothing. I adopted another line. 

"Are you perfectly certain, " I said, "about that text? Don't you thinkthat if it's really in the Bible the Archdeacon would have seen it?"

"He might have overlooked it, " said Lalage; "in fact, he must haveoverlooked it. If he'd come across it he'd have got married at once. Anybody can see that he wants to be a bishop. "

This seemed unanswerable. Yet I could not believe that the Archdeacon, who has been a clergyman for many years, could have failed to read theepistle in which the verse occurs. I made another effort. 

"Most likely, " I said, "that text means something quite different. "

"It can't. The words are as plain as possible. "

"Have you looked at the original Greek?"

"No, I haven't. What would be the good of doing that? And, besides, Idon't know Greek. "

"Then you may be sure, " I said, "that the original Greek alters thewhole thing. I've noticed hundreds of times that when a text seems tobe saying anything which doesn't work out in practice the original Greeksets it right. "

"I know that, " said Lalage. "At least I've often heard it. But itdoesn't apply to cases like this. What on earth else could this mean inthe original Greek or any other language you like to translate it into?'A bishop is to be the husband of one wife. ' I looked it out myself tomake sure that Selby-Harrison had made no mistake. "

The text certainly seemed uncompromising. I had talked bravely about theoriginal Greek, but I doubted in my own mind whether even it would offera loophole of escape for the Archdeacon. 

"It may, " I said, desperately, "merely mean that a bishop mayn't havetwo wives. "

"Do talk sense, " said Lalage. "What would be the point of saying thata bishop mayn't have two? It's hard enough to get a man like theArchdeacon to have one. Besides, if that's what it means, then otherpeople, not bishops, are allowed to have two wives, which is perfectlyabsurd. It would be bigamy and that's far worse than what the Archdeaconsaid I'd done. Where's Hilda?"

Lalage's way of dismissing a subject of which she is tired is abrupt butunmistakable. I told her that Hilda and her mother had gone. 

"That's a pity, " said Lalage. "I should have liked to take Hilda with methis afternoon. "

"Are you going to do it so soon?"

"The election is next week, " said Lalage, "so we haven't a moment tolose. "

"Well, " I said, "if you're really going to do it, I shall be greatlyobliged if you'll let me know afterward exactly what the Archdeaconsays. "

"I will if you like, " said Lalage, "but there won't be anything to tellyou. He'll simply thank me for bringing the point under his notice. "

"I'm not a betting man, but if I were I'd wager a pretty large sum thatwhatever the Archdeacon does he won't thank you. "

"Have you any reason to suppose that he has a special objection to PussyBattersby?"

"None in the world. I'm sure he respects her. We all do. "

"Then I don't see what you mean by saying that he won't thank me. He'sa tiresome old thing, especially when he tries to be polite, which he'salways doing, but he's not by any means a fool where his own interestsare concerned. He'll see at once that I'm doing him a kindness. "

I found nothing more to say, so I left Lalage. I had at all events, donemy best. I drove home. 

CHAPTER XXI

I was late for luncheon, very late. My mother had left the dining-roomwhen I got home, but I found her and she readily agreed to leave theletters she was writing and to sit beside me while I ate. It was not, asI discovered, sympathy for my exhaustion and hunger which induced her todo this. She was full of curiosity. 

"Well, " she said, as I helped myself to some cold pie, "what was it?"

"It was Lalage, " I said. "You guessed that before I started. "

There was a short pause during which I ate some of the cold pie andfound out that it was made, partly at least, of veal. Then my motherasked another question:

"Has she hit on anything unexpected?"

"Quite. She wants Thormanby to insist on the Archdeacon marrying MissBattersby. "

Even my mother was startled. She gave utterance to an exclamation. If shehad been a man she would have sworn. I soothed her. 

"It's not really a bad scheme, " I said, "when you get over the firstshock. The Archdeacon, it appears, is bound to marry. "

"Why?"

"Timothy says so or seems to say so. Perhaps he didn't really. What isthe proper, regularly received interpretation of that text which saysthat a bishop is to be the husband of one wife?"

"There are several. "

"The Archdeacon is sure to know them, I suppose. "

"Oh, yes. He's certain to know them. "

"He'll want them all this afternoon. Lalage is going to him with thattext drawn in her hand. She's also taking Miss Battersby, a weddingring, a cake, and a white satin dress. I'm speaking figuratively ofcourse. "

"I hope so. But however figurative your way of putting it may be, I'mafraid that the Archdeacon won't be pleased. "

"So I told Lalage. But she's quite certain that he will. I should saymyself that he'd dislike it several degrees more than he did the simony. I often think it's a pity the Archdeacon hasn't any sense of humour. "

"No sense of humour would enable him to see that joke. "

"Thormanby, " I said, "has been employed all morning in writing lettersand appealing telegrams to Miss Petti-grew; but even if she comes itwill be too late. "

"I hope Miss Battersby hasn't been told. "

"Not by Lalage. She felt that there would be a certain want of delicacyabout mentioning the subject to her before the Archdeacon had spoken. "

My mother sighed. 

"I'm very fond of Lalage, " she said, "but I sometimes wish she was----"

"That's just what Miss Battersby was saying this morning. I quite agreewith you both that life would be simpler if she was, but of course sheisn't. "

"What Lalage wants is some steadying influence. "

"Miss Pettigrew, " I said, "suggested marriage and babies. I don't thinkshe mentioned the number of babies, but several would be required. "

My mother looked at me in much the same curious way that Miss Pettigrewdid on the afternoon when she and Canon Beresford visited me inBallygore. I felt the same unpleasant sense of embarrassment. I finishedmy glass of claret hurriedly, and without waiting for coffee, whichwould probably have been cold, left the room. 

I went about the house and made a collection of the articles I waslikely to want during the afternoon. I got a hammock chair with a legrest, four cushions, a pipe, a tin of tobacco, three boxes of matches, and a novel called "Sword Play. " With these in my arms I staggeredacross the garden and made for the nook to which I had been lookingforward all day. A greenhouse which is not sacrificed to flowers isa very pleasant place at certain seasons of the year. In Spring, forinstance, when the sun is shining, I am tempted to go out of doors. Butin Spring there are cold winds which drive me in again. In a greenhousethe sun is available and the winds are excluded. If the heatingapparatus is out of order, as it fortunately was in the case of mygreenhouse, the temperature is warm without stuffiness. I shut the door, pulled a tree fern in a heavy pot out of my way, and then found out byexperiment which of the angles of all at which a hammock chair can beset is the most comfortable. Then I placed my four cushions just whereI like them, one under my head, one to give support to the small of myback, one under my knees, and one beside my left elbow. I lit my pipeand put the three boxes of matches in different places, so that when Ilost one I should, while searching for it, be pretty sure of coming onanother. 

I opened my novel. It was about a gentleman of title who in his daywas the best swordsman in Europe. He loved a scornful lady with greatdevotion. I read a hundred pages with dwindling attention and at lastfound that I had failed to be excited by the story of a prolonged duelfought on the brink of a precipice under the shadow of an ancient castlefrom the battlements of which the scornful lady was looking down. I wasvexed with myself, for I ought to have enjoyed the scene. I turned backand read the whole chapter through a second time. Again I somehow missedthe emotion of it. My mind kept wandering from the lunging figureson the edge of the cliff to a vision of Lalage in a dark green dressspeeding along the road on her bicycle. 

I laid down the novel and set myself the pleasant task of constructingimaginary interviews between Lalage and the Archdeacon. As a rule Ienjoy the meanderings of my own imagination, and in this particularcase I had provided it with material to work on much more likely to beentertaining than the gambols of the expert swordsman or the scorn ofthe lady above him. But my imagination failed me. It pictured Lalagewell enough. But the Archdeacon, for some reason, would not takeshape. I tried again and again with no better success. The image of theArchdeacon got fainter and fainter, until I could no longer visualizeeven his apron. 

At some time, perhaps an hour after I had settled down, I went to sleep. I cannot fix, or make any attempt at fixing, the exact moment at whichthe conscious effort of my imagination passed into the unconsciousromance building of dream. But I know that the Archdeacon totallydisappeared, while Lalage, a pleasantly stimulating personality, hauntedme. I may have slept for an hour, perhaps for an hour and a half. Looking back on the afternoon, and arranging its chronology to fitbetween two fixed points of time, I am certain that I did not sleep formore than an hour and a half. It was a few minutes after two o'clockwhen I sat down to luncheon. I am sure of this, because my mother's eyessought the clock on the chimney piece when we entered the dining-roomtogether and mine followed them. It was half-past five when I saw heragain in the drawing-room. I am equally sure of this because she kissedme three times rather effusively and I was obliged to look at my watchto hide my embarrassment. Between two o'clock and half-past five Ilunched, smoked, read, slept, and played a part in certain other events. This makes it tolerably certain that I did not sleep for more than anhour and a half. 

I was wakened by a most violent opening of the greenhouse door and atempestuous rustling of the fronds of the tree fern which I had moved. Then Lalage burst upon me. My first impulse was to struggle out of mychair and offer it to her. She made a motion of excited refusal and Isank back again. I noticed, while she stood before me, that her facewas unusually flushed. It seemed to me that she was passing through whatMcMeekin used to describe as a nerve storm. I leaped to the conclusionthat the Archdeacon had not taken kindly to the idea of a marriage withMiss Battersby. 

"How did it go off?" I asked. 

"Where's your mother?" said Lalage. 

"She's not here. You ought to know better than to expect her to behere. Is she the sort of person who'd waste an afternoon in a disusedgreenhouse? She's probably doing something useful. Did you ask if shewas covering pots of marmalade?"

"I've searched everywhere. "

"Never mind. She's certain to turn up for tea. "

Lalage stamped her foot. 

"I want her at once, " she said. "I want to talk to her. "

"I'm a very poor substitute for my mother, of course; but if you can'tfind her----"

"I've something to tell her, " said Lalage; "something that I simply musttell to somebody. "

"I shall be delighted to listen. "

Lalage hesitated. She was drumming with her fingers on the edge of anempty flower pot as if she were playing a very rapid fantasia on thepiano. This seemed to me a further symptom of nerve storm. I encouragedher to speak, as tactfully as I could. 

"Has Miss Battersby, " I asked, "rebelled against her destiny?"

Lalage's face suddenly puckered up in a very curious way. I should havesupposed that she was on the verge of tears if there existed any recordof her ever having shed tears. But no one, not even her most intimatefriend ever heard of her crying; so I came to the conclusion that shewanted to laugh. I felt uneasy, for Lalage usually laughs without anypreliminary puckerings of her face. 

"Perhaps, " I said, "you're thinking of the Archdeacon. "

"I am, " said Lalage. 

She spoke with a kind of gulp which in the case of Hilda would certainlyhave been a premonitory symptom of tears. 

"Did he make himself particularly disagreeable?"

Greatly to my relief Lalage laughed. It was an excited, unnatural laugh;and it was not very far from crying. Still it was a laugh. 

"No, " she said. "He made himself particularly agreeable, too agreeable;at least he tried to. "

Then she laughed again and this time the laughing did her good. Shebecame calmer and sat down on the edge of an iron water tank which stoodin the corner of the greenhouse. I warned her of the danger of fallingin backward. I also offered her one of my cushions to put on the edgeof the tank, which looked to me hard. She laughed in reply. My cigarettecase was, very fortunately, in my pocket. I fished it out and asked herif she would like to smoke. She took a cigarette and lit it. I could seethat it helped to calm her still further. 

"Go on with your story, " I said. 

"Where was I?"

She spoke quite naturally. The laughter and the cigarette, between them, had saved her from the attack which for some time was threatening. 

"You hadn't actually begun, " I said. "You had only mentioned that theArchdeacon was, or tried to be, unusually, even excessively, agreeable. "

"He was writing letters in his study, " said Lalage, "when I knocked atthe door and walked in on him. I apologized at once for interruptinghim. "

"You were quite right to do that. "

"He said he didn't mind a bit; in fact, liked it. Then he looked like asheep. You know the sort of way a sheep looks?"

"Woolly?"

"Yes, frightfully, and worse. If I'd had a single grain of sense Ishould have bolted at once. Anybody might have known what was coming. "

"I shouldn't. In fact, even now that I know something came, I can'tguess what it was. "

"Instead of bolting I brought out that text of Selby-Harrison's. He tookit like a lamb. "

"Woolly again, only a softer kind of wool. "

"No, " said Lalage, "just meekly; though of course he went on beingwoolly. "

"There are several authorized interpretations of that text. My mothertold me so this afternoon. I suppose the Archdeacon trotted them all outone by one?"

"No. I told you he took it like a lamb. Why won't you try tounderstand?"

"Anyhow, " I said, "his demeanour was most encouraging to you. I supposeyou suggested Miss Battersby to him at once?"

"No, I didn't. I couldn't. "

Lalage hesitated again. She was not speaking with her usual fluency. Itried to help her out. 

"Something in the glare of his eyes stopped you, " I said. "I have alwaysheard that the human eye possesses remarkable power. "

"There was something in his eye, " said Lalage, "but not that. "

"It stopped you though, whatever it was. "

"No, it didn't. I wish it had. I might have cleared out at once if ithad. "

"If it wasn't a glare, what was it? I can't imagine a better opportunityfor mentioning Miss Battersby. "

"He didn't give me time. "

"Do you mean to say he pushed you out of the room?"

"No. "

"Did he swear? I once heard of an Archdeacon swearing under greatprovocation. "

"No. "

"I can't guess any more, Lalage. I really can't. You'll have to tell mewhat it was. "

"He said he'd get married with pleasure. "

"But not to Miss Battersby. I'm beginning to see now. Who is thefortunate lady?"

"Me, " said Lalage. 

"Good heavens, Lalage! You don't mean to say you're going to marry theArchdeacon?"

"You're as bad as he was, " said Lalage angrily. "I won't have suchhorrid things said to me. I don't see why I should be insulted by everyone I meet. I wish I hadn't told you. I ought not to have told you. Iought to have gone on looking for your mother until I found her. "

I was immensely, unreasonably relieved. The idea of Lalage marrying theArchdeacon had been a severe shock to me. 

"The Archdeacon's proposal----" I said. "By the way, you couldn'tpossibly have been mistaken about it, could you? He really did?"

Lalage blushed hotly. 

"He did, " she said, "really. "

"That just shows, " I said, "what a tremendous impression you made on himwith Selby-Harrison's text. "

"It wasn't the text at all. He said it had been the dearest wish of hisheart for years. Can you imagine anything more silly?"

"I see now, " I said, "why he always took such an interest in everythingyou did and went out of his way to try to keep you from getting intomischief. I think better of the Archdeacon than I ever did before. "

"He's a horrid old beast. '"

"You can't altogether blame him, though. "

"I can. 

"You oughtn't to, for you don't know----"

"I do know. "

"No, you don't. Not what I mean. "

"What do you mean? I don't believe you mean anything. "

"You don't know the temptation. "

Lalage stared at me. 

"I've often felt it myself, " I said. 

Lalage still stared. She was usually quick witted, but on this occasionshe seemed to me to be positively dull. I suppose that the nerve stormthrough which she had passed had temporarily paralyzed the gray matterof her brain. I made an effort to explain myself. 

"You must surely realize, " I said, "that the Archdeacon isn't the onlyman in the world who would like--any man would--in fact every man must, unless he's married already, and in that case he's extremely sorry hecan't. I certainly do. "

Lalage grew gradually more and more crimson in the face while I spoke. At my last words she started violently, and for an instant I thought shewas going to fall into the tank. 

"Do be careful, " I said. "I don't want to have to dive in after you anddrag you, in a state of suspended animation, to the shore. "

Lalage recovered both her balance and her self-possession. 

"Don't you?" she said, with a peculiar smile. 

"No, I don't. "

"I should have thought, " she said, "that any man would. According to youevery man must, unless he is married already, and then he'd be extremelysorry that he couldn't. "

"In that sense of the words, " I said, "of course I do. Please fall in. "

"I daresay that the words don't really mean what they seem to mean, "said Lalage. "Lots of those words don't. I must look them out in theoriginal Greek. "

After this our conversation became greatly confused. It had beenslightly confused before. The reference to the original Greek completedthe process. It seems to me, looking back on it now, that we sat there, Lalage on the edge of the water tank, I in my hammock chair, and flungillusive phrases and half finished sentences at each other, getting hotby turns, and sometimes both together. At last Lalage left me, quite asabruptly as she had come. I did not know what to make of the situation. There had been nothing but conversation between us. I always understoodthat under certain circumstances there is more than conversation, sometimes a great deal more. I picked up "Sword Play, " which lay on theground beside me. It was the only authority to hand at the moment. Iturned to the last chapter and found that the fencing professor andthe haughty lady had not stopped short at conversation. When the ladyfinally unbent she did so in a very thorough way and things had passedbetween her and the gentleman which it made me hotter than ever to readabout. I had not stirred from my chair nor Lalage from the edge of thetank while we talked. I was greatly perplexed. It was quite plain thehistory of the swordsman and his lady was not the only one which mademe sure of this--that my love-making had not run the normal course. Inevery single record of such doings which I had ever read a stage hadbeen reached at which the feelings of the performers had been expressedin action rather than in words. Lalage and I had not got beyond words, therefore I doubted whether I had really been love-making. I hadcertainly got no definite statement from Lalage. She had not murmuredanything in low, sweet tones; nor had she allowed her head to droopforward upon my breast in a manner eloquent of complete surrender. I wasfar from blaming her for this omission. My hammock chair was adjustedat such an angle that unless she had actually stood on her head I do notsee how she could have laid it against my breast, and if she had donethat her attitude would have been far from eloquent, besides being mostuncomfortable for me. Still the fact remained that I had not got byword or attitude any clear indication from Lalage that my love-making, supposing that I had been love-making, was agreeable to her. 

Nor could I flatter myself that Lalage was any better off than I was. Ihad fully intended to make myself quite clear. The Archdeacon's examplehad nerved me. I distinctly remembered the sensation of determining thatthis one crisis at least should be brought to a definite issue, but Iwas not at all sure that I had succeeded. The gentleman of title whoseexploits filled the three hundred pages of "Sword Play" said: "I loveyou and have always loved you more than life"; and though he spoke ina voice which was hoarse with passion, his meaning must have beenperfectly plain. I had not said, nor could I imagine that I ever shouldsay, anything half so heroic. Had I said anything at all or was Lalageas perplexed as I was? This question troubled me, unnecessarily; for, asit turned out afterward, Lalage was not at all perplexed. 

CHAPTER XXII

My mind concentrated on one question: Was I to consider myself asengaged to be married to Lalage? The phrase, with its flavour ofvulgarity, set my teeth on edge; but no other way of expressionoccurred to me and I was too deeply anxious to spend time in pursuitof elegancies. It was absurd that I could not answer my question. A manought to know whether he has or has not committed himself to a proposalof marriage. The Archdeacon, I felt perfectly certain, knew what he haddone. And I ought to know whether Lalage had accepted or rejected theproposal. The Archdeacon can have had few if any doubts when Lalageleft him. I made up my mind at last to lay the case before my mother. Idetermined to repeat to her, as nearly as possible, verbatim, the wholeconversation which had taken place in the greenhouse. I knew that Ishould feel foolish while making these confidences. I should, indeed, appear positively ridiculous when I asked my mother to settle thequestion which troubled me. But my mother is extraordinarily sympatheticand, in any case, it was better to suffer as a fool than to continue tobe the prey of perplexity. I sighed a little when I recollected that mymother had a keen sense of the ridiculous and that my dilemma was verylikely indeed to appeal to it. 

I found my mother in the drawing-room with the remains of afternoon teastill spread on a small table before her. I had just time to noticethat two people had been drinking tea and that the second cup, balancedprecariously on the arm of a chair, was half full. Then my mothercrossed the room rapidly and kissed me three times. She may have donesuch a thing before. I think it likely that she did when I was a baby. She certainly never kissed me more than once at a time since I was oldenough to remember what she did. 

"I'm so delighted, " she said, "so very delighted. I can't tell you howglad I am. "

This remark, taken in connection with the kisses which preceded it, could only have one meaning. I realized at once that I actually wasgoing to marry Lalage. I was not exactly surprised, but the news was sovery important that I felt it right to make absolutely certain of itstruth. 

"You're quite sure, I suppose?" I said. 

"Lalage has been here with me. She has only just gone. "

"Then we may regard it as settled. "

"You silly boy! Haven't you been settling it for the last hour?"

"That's exactly what I want to know. Have I? I mean to say, have we?"

"Lalage seems to think you have. "

"That's all right then. She'd be sure to know. "

"How can you talk like that when you've arranged everything down to theminutest details?"

This startled me. I felt it necessary to ask for more information. 

"Would you mind recapitulating the details? I'm a little confused aboutthem. "

"You're to wait till the Archdeacon is actually bishop, " said my mother, "and then he's to marry you. "

"Is that your plan or Lalage's?"

"Lalage's, of course. I suppose it's yours too. "

"I'm sorry, " I said, "to find that Lalage is so vindictive. I hoped thatshe'd have been more ready to forgive and forget. "

"I know what you're thinking about, because Lalage told me. She doesn'tmean to be vindictive in the least. She seemed to think----"

"Surely not that the Archdeacon will like it?"

"Hardly that; but that under the circumstances his feelings would behurt if any one else was asked to perform the ceremony. "

"After all, " I said, "there's still Miss Battersby. He can't complain. "

"She's to be a bridesmaid. So is Hilda, of course. "

"Selby-Harrison shall be best man, " I said. 

"Oh!" said my mother, "I gathered from Lalage that you were to ask----"

"I know she doesn't want me to get into touch with Selby-Harrison. I've been trying to make his acquaintance for years and she keeps onconcealing him. But this time I'm determined. I'll have Selby-Harrisonor no one. "

"I gathered from Lalage that she'd prefer----"

"Very well, " I said, "I'll have two best men. I don't see why Ishouldn't. Who's the other?"

"Lalage mentioned a Mr. Tithers. "

"Titherington is his name, " I said, "and if I have him I don't see how Ican very well leave out Vittie, O'Donoghue, and McMeekin. I don'tknow how you feel about the matter, but I rather object to being made apublic show of with five best men. "

"I'm so delighted about it, " said my mother, "that I don't mind if yougo on talking nonsense about it all the evening. Lalage will be exactlythe wife you want. She'll shake you up out of your lazy ways and makesomething of you in the end. "

"Has she settled that?"

"No. She and I are to have a long talk about that, sometime, soon. "

I was about to protest, when the door opened and Miss Battersbystaggered breathlessly into the room. She was highly flushed andevidently greatly excited. She made straight for me. I thought she wasgoing to kiss me, I still think that she meant to. I pushed my motherforward and got into a corner behind the tea table. Miss Battersbyworked off the worst of her emotion on my mother. She must have kissedher eighteen or twenty times. After that she did not want to do morethan to shake hands with me. 

"Lalage has just told me, " she said, "and I'm so glad. I happened to beat the rectory when she came home. She had been looking for me in themorning, and as soon as I could I went over to her. "

"Has she telegraphed to Miss Pettigrew?" I asked. 

"Not that I know of, " said Miss Battersby; "in fact, I'm sure shehasn't. "

"Then I'll do it myself. I don't see why Lalage should be the only oneto break the news. I'd send a wire to Hilda too if I knew hersurname; but I've never been able to find that out. I wish she'dmarry Selby-Harrison. Then I'd know how to address her when I want totelegraph or write to her. "

"Won't you stay for dinner?" said my mother to Miss Battersby. "We cansend you home afterward. "

"Oh, no. The car is waiting for me at the rectory. I told the man to putup. Lord Thormanby----"

"You might break it to him, " I said. 

"He'll be greatly delighted, " said Miss Battersby. 

"No, he won't, " I said. "At least I shall be very much surprised if heis. He told me this morning that I was to go and muzzle Lalage. "

"He didn't mean it, " said Miss Battersby. 

"Besides, " said my mother, "you will. "

I reflected on this. My mother and Miss Pettigrew are intimate friends. They must have talked over La-lage's future together many times. I knewwhat Miss Pettigrew's views were and I suspect that my mother was infull agreement with them. Owing to the emotional strain to which I hadbeen subjected I may have been in a hypersensitive condition. Iseemed to detect in my mother's confident prophecy an allusion to MissPettigrew's plans. Women, even women like my mother, are greatly wantingin delicacy. I was so much afraid of her saying something more on thesubject that I bade Miss Battersby good-bye, hurriedly, and left theroom. 

After dinner my mother again took up the subject of my engagement. 

"You'll have to go over and see Canon Beresford early to-morrowmorning, " she said. 

"Of course. But I know what he'll say to me. "

"I'm sure he'll be as pleased as I am, " said iny mother. 

"He won't say so. "

My mother looked questioningly at me. I answered her. 

"He'll quote that line of Horace, " I said, "about a _placens uxor_, butit won't be true. "

"What does that mean?"

"A placid wife, " I said, "a gentle, quiet, peaceable sort of wife, whosits beside the fire and knits, purring gently. When he has finishedthat quotation he'll blow his nose and give me the piece out ofEpictetus about the 'price of tranquillity. ' He'll mean by that, thatsorry as he is to lose Lalage, the future will hold some compensatingjoys. He won't be obliged to dart off at a moment's notice to Wick, orBrazil, or Borneo. The Canon is, after all, a thoroughly selfish man. He won't care a bit about something being made of me by Lalage, and if Itry to explain my position to him he'll go out fishing at once. "

CHAPTER XXIII

The fuss which preceded our wedding was very considerable indeed. Presents abounded. Even in my house, which is a large one, they gotgreatly in the way. There was, for instance, a large picture sent byTitherington. I do not think he had any malicious intention. He probablygave an order to a dealer without any details of the kind of work ofart to be supplied. It turned out be a finely coloured photographicreproduction of a picture which had been very popular a few yearsbefore, called "The Ministering Angel. " It represented a hospital nursein the act of exulting over her patient. It reminded me so unpleasantlyof my time in Ballygore that I gave orders to have it set up with itsface to the wall in a passage. There I used to trip over it nearly everyday. Canon Beresford's position was worse than mine, for his house wassmaller and Lalage's presents were both numerous and larger than thosesent to me. 

I also suffered great inconvenience from the paperers and painters whocame down from Dublin in large numbers and pervaded my favourite rooms. It was my mother who invited them. She said that the house was in adisgraceful condition. Lalage took the keenest interest in these menand their work. She used to come over every morning and harangue themvehemently. 

This was some consolation to me for the paperers and painters certainlydid not like it. I used to enjoy hearing what they said to each afterLalage had finished with them. Before and after she dealt with the menshe used to consult with my mother about clothes. Miss Battersby wasadmitted to these council meetings. I never was. Patterns of materialsarrived from the most distant shops. Some came direct to my mother. Iused to see them piled up behind the letters on the breakfast table. Others came to Miss Battersby, who brought them over in the Thormanby'spony trap. Still more were addressed to Lalage at the rectory. I used tosend for these in the morning and it was while she waited for them thatLaiage gave the paperers and painters her opinion of their incompetence. 

It seemed to me quite impossible that any one, during those frenzied sixweeks, could have thought calmly on any serious subject. But Lalage isa very wonderful young woman and my mother is able to retain herself-possession under the most trying circumstances. They managedsomehow to snatch an hour or two for that long talk about my future ofwhich my mother had spoken to me. I do not know whether Miss Battersby'sadvice was asked. Mine certainly was not. Nor was I told at the time theresult of the deliberations. That leaked out long afterward, when thewedding was over and we had returned home to settle down, I scarcelyhoped, in peace. I suspected, of course, that I should be made to dosomething, and I was agreeably surprised that no form of labour wasdirectly imposed on me for some time. Lalage, acting no doubt on mymother's advice, decided to shepherd rather than goad me along the wayon which it was decided that I should go. 

She began by saying in a casual way, one night after dinner, that shedid not think I had any real taste for political life. I agreed withher heartily. Then she and my mother smiled at each other in a way whichmade me certain that they had some other career for me in mind. Shortlyafterward they took to talking a great deal about books, especially atmeal times, and several literary papers appeared regularly on my studytable. I came to the conclusion that they wished me to become a patronof literature, perhaps to collect a library or to invite poets to spendtheir holidays with us. I was quite willing to fall in with this plan, but I determined, privately, only to become acquainted with poets ofa peaceable kind who wrote pastorals or elegies and went out for long, solitary walks to commune with nature. In my eagerness to please LalageI went so far as to write to Selby-Harrison, asking him to make out forme a list of the leading poets of the meditative and mystical schools. Ialso gave an order to a bookseller for all the books of original poetrypublished during that autumn. The number of volumes I received surprisedme. I used to exhibit them with great pride to my mother and Lalage. Ionce offered to read out extracts from them in the evening. 

"The bent of your genius, " said Lalage, "is evidently literary. "

My mother backed her up of course. 

"It is, " I said, "and always was. It's a great pity that it wasn't foundout sooner. Think of the time I wasted in Portugal and of that wretchedepisode in East Connor. However, there's no use going back on pastmistakes. "

"They weren't altogether mistakes, " said Lalage. "We couldn't have knownthat you were literary until we found out that you weren't any good atanything else. "

"That view of literature, " I said, "as the last refuge of theincompetent, is quite unworthy of you, Lalage. Recollect that youonce edited a magazine yourself. You should have more respect for theprofession of letters. "

"Don't argue, " said Lalage. "All we say is that if you can't do anythingelse you must be able to write. "

Then the truth began to become clear to me. My dream of a life ofcultured ease, spent, with intervals for recreation, in the society ofgentle poets, faded. 

"Do you mean, " I said, "that I'm to----?"

"Certainly, " said Lalage. 

"To write a book?" I said desperately. 

"That's the reason, " said Lalage, "why I refurnished your study andbought that perfectly sweet Dutch marquetry bureau and hung up thepicture of Milton dictating 'Paradise Lost' to his two daughters. "

I have hated that picture since the day it first appeared in in mystudy. I only agreed to letting it in because I knew the alternative wasTitherington's hospital nurse. The Dutch bureau, if it is Dutch, is mostuncomfortable to write at. There was no use, however, wrangling aboutdetails. I brought forward the one strong objection to the plan whichoccurred to me at the moment. 

"Has my uncle been consulted?" I asked. "From what I know of ThormanbyI should say he's not at all likely to agree to my spending my life inwriting poetry. "

"His idea, " said my mother, "is that you should bring out acomprehensive work on the economic condition of Ireland in the twentiethcentury. "

"He thinks, " Lalage added, "that when you do go into Parliament it willbe a great advantage to you to be a recognized authority on something, even if it's only Irish economics. "

I knew, of course, that I should have to give in to a certain extentin the end; but I was not prepared to fall in with Thormanby's absurdsuggestion. 

"Very well, " I said, "I shall write a book. I shall write myreminiscences. "

"Reminiscences, " said Lalage, "are rather rot as a rule. "

"The bent of my genius, " I said, "is entirely reminiscent. "

Rather to my surprise Lalage accepted the reminiscences as a tolerablesubstitute for the economic treatise. I suppose she did not really carewhat I wrote so long as I wrote something. 

"Very well, " she said. "We'll give you six months. "

I had, I am bound to say, a very pleasant and undisturbed life duringthe six months allowed me by Lalage. I did my writing, for the mostpart, in the morning, working at the Dutch marquetry bureau from teno'clock until shortly after noon. I soon came to find a great deal ofpleasure in my work. The only thing which ever put me out of temper wasthe picture of Milton dictating to two plump young women who had takenoff their bodices in order to write with more freedom. If there are anypeevish or ill-humoured passages in my book they are to be attributedentirely to the influence of that picture, chiefly to the tousled lookof the younger daughter. The fact that her father was blind was noexcuse for her neglecting to do her hair when she got up in the morning. 

I have secured, by the help of Selby-Harrison, a publisher for the book. He insists on bringing it out as a novel and refuses to allow it tobe called "Memories of My Early Life, " the title I chose. "Lalage'sLovers, " the name under which it appears in his list of forthcomingfiction, seems to me misleading. It suggests a sentimental narrative andwill, I fear, give rise to some disappointment. However, I supposethat the book may sell better if we pretend that it is not true. Butin Ireland, at least, this device will be vain. The things with which Ideal were not done in a corner. There are many bishops who still smartfrom Lalage's attack on them, and Titherington, at all events, is notlikely to forget last year's epidemic of influenza. I shall, indeed, be very glad if the publisher's ruse succeeds and the public generallybelieves that I have invented the whole story. Now that the moment ofpublication comes near and I am engaged in adding a few final sentencesto the last chapter I am beginning to feel nervous and uncomfortable. There may be a good deal of trouble and annoyance when the book comesout. 

I have set down nothing except the truth and this ought to pleaseLalage; but I am not at all sure that it will. I have noticed that oflate she has shown signs of disliking any mention of the _Anti-Tommy-RotGazette_ or the campaign of the Association for the Suppression ofPublic Lying in East Connor. She pulled me up very abruptly yesterdaywhen I asked her what Hilda's surname really is. I wanted it in orderto make my book as complete as possible. Lalage seemed to think that Iintended to annoy her by talking over past events. 

"I wish, " she said, "that you wouldn't always try to make yourself out afool. You've known Hilda intimately since she was quite a girl. "

That, of course, was my difficulty all along. I have known Hilda toointimately. If our friendship had been more formal or had begun moreformally, I should, at first at all events, have called her "Miss"something instead of simply "Hilda. " Then I should not be in my presentawkward position. 

I am also doubtful about Thormanby's reception of the book. He oughtto be pleased, for he appears in my pages as a bluff, straightforwardnobleman, devoted to the public good and full of sound common-sensethough slightly choleric. This is exactly what he is; but I havenoticed that people are not always pleased with faithful portraits ofthemselves. 

The case of the Archdeacon, now bishop, is more serious. He has not yetmarried Miss Battersby, although Lalage has done her best to throw themtogether and the advantages of the match become every day more obvious. It is just possible that the publication of my reminiscences may createan awkwardness--a constraint of manner on the part of the bishop, amodest shrinking in Miss Battersby, which will tend to put off the finalsettlement of the affair. I ventured to hint to Lalage that it mightbe well to bring the business to a head, if possible, before my book ispublished. Lalage expressed considerable surprise. 

"What on earth has your book got to do with their marriage?" she said. 

I saw no good in anticipating what is likely to be an evil day byoffering a premature explanation. 

"Nothing, " I said, "nothing at all. "

"Then why do you want to have them married before the book comes out?"

"I don't, " I said. "I merely want them to be engaged. My idea is to givethem the book as a wedding present, nicely bound in calf of course. "

"Poor Pussy, " said Lalage; "I intend to give her something better thanthat. "

Lalage has not read my book. It was a bargain from the very first thatneither she nor my mother should ask to see the manuscript. She cannotknow, therefore, whether it will be better or worse than the silverteapot which I expect she has in mind for Miss Battersby's weddingpresent. 

Another thing which troubles me is the future of Selby-Harrison. Ithas been arranged, chiefly by Lalage, that the bishop, who used to beArchdeacon, is to ordain Selby-Harrison as curate assistant to CanonBeresford. There are incidents in the career of Selby-Harrison of whichno bishop can be expected to approve. His part in Lalage's variouscrusades has not hitherto been forced upon the attention of the public. My book will, I fear, make it plain that he was an active power inthe various reforming societies which caused so much annoyance tomany people. If I could, I would leave Selby-Harrison out of the bookaltogether, but to do so would render unintelligible the whole sequenceof events which resulted from the discovery of that text in FirstTimothy. Besides, it would scarcely be fair to deprive the young man ofthe credit he certainly deserves for the masterly way in which he drewup the agreements which Titherington and I signed. 

All this causes me to hesitate, even now at the eleventh hour, aboutpublishing the book at all. One consideration, however, decides me to goon and face the consequences, whatever they may be. This is not the kindof book which will encourage Thormanby to drive me into Parliament. Thatplan, at all events, will be dropped when my reminiscences appear.