Vicars' Waik

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 19, 24 January 1933, Page 14

Vicars' Waik

B, HORACE ANNESLEY VACHELL

CHAPTER ll.—Continued.)

Mealtime, amongst those who toil for their daily bread, is regulated by worktime. At eix punctually Mr. Vye expected a substantial nourishing tea. Abel Saint dined at one. Joseph Vye dined at a quarter to two. He was a small man of immense dignity, but intellectually incapable of soaring beyond the ordinary patter of his office, whereas Abel Saint could speak of the cathedral using 1 language which would have been reckoned creditable from a Minor Canon. For this reason Mr. Vye was jealous of his chief's vocabulary. Mr. Vye, moreover, had no patience with cheese-paring and petty economies in the home. He loved his comfort. Felicity, after laying the table for .tea, placed a pair of carpet slippers in front of her father's arm chair. He suffered from sore feet. < Mr. Vye came in, sat down in silence, and began to remove his boots. He locked tired and cross. This called for fussing. "Now, Fee, help your father. I shall give him his tonic;; I'm sure he needs it." The tonic was an euphemism for a mild toddy. Mr. Vye" sipped his toddy with relish, smacking his lips. In his less robust moments he made inarticulate noises, which Enoch could imitate, queer duckings and chirpings. His head was too big. for his body, and wobbled when he was deeply moved. Vulgar urchins spoke of him as "Moonface." A round, pink jowl was framed in what used to be called a Newgate Fringe; a long upper lip beneath a short, snubby nose might have belonged to a Dublin jarvey. Nevertheless, Mr. Vye was not unprepossessing; he suggested an elderly, bald-headed cherub; and he looked at all times scrupulously clean. He made an excellent tea, lighted his pipe, and lay back in his chair. "Anything to tell to us, father?" asked Mrs. Vye. ■ , "Yes, mother, yes. I was gureatly honoured this afternoon, gureatly so. I showed the Chapter House to General Sir Alastair Ogilvie-Black, K.C.8., et cetera, who has the southern command, a very distinguished soldier, who chatted with me^—as man to man. After our chat he presented me with a fine cigar, which I shall smOke after supper." "Well I never," ejaculated Mrs. Vye. "Appearances are deceptive. When you come in, father, I says to myself: 'Poor dear man, he's had a Horrid day.'" "And you were puffectly correct, puffectlv. Sir Alastair made it so. He didn't mean to—to frighten me—" "He couldn't —" "He did". • "Father," said Felicity, nervously, "what is coming?" "Ah-h-h! Battle, murder, an' sudden death. We three sittin' here may live to see Fountains destroyed, wiped out! Sir Alastair says, and he knows, that inside o' six months or less we shall be at war with Germany. We may be invaded by Germans. I, for one, took no stock of 6uch wild talk till this afternoon." "They wouldn't never be wicked enough to destroy our cathedrdal, Joe," gasped Mrs. Vye. "War is war, mother. Me and the general are agreed about that. Then I asked him what we —meanin* the nation —were going to do about it? He may not wish what he said to be repeated—" "We're not sieves," affirmed Mrs. Vye, reproachfully. "Nothing you tell Fee and me ever goes out of this room, does it, Fee?" "Never, mum. Please go on, father." Mr. Vye sucked a hollow tooth with violence. Then he continued portentously : "The general said that England, our England, within a year, will toe turned into a roarin', tearin', do-what-you're-told and ask-no-questions, military camp. Soldiers everywhere, tents in our Close, and drums an' fifes disturbin' the peace o' Vicars' Walk." "Joe, dear, this general may have had, you know, just an extra glass of sherry wine at lunch —" More battle-suggesting noises from Mr. Vye, intended to convey _ reproof. Mrs. Vye apologised, pleauing in excuse that her imaginative powers had failed. Certain dreadful things could not be, not if it were never so. "Mother, you forgot —" "What?" "Yod well know, having heard me tell the tale, that war horses have been stabled in the nave of our cathedral. What has been may be again. Now, my dear souls, I've worse to tell —" He paused with dramatic effect not wasted upon Mrs. Vye. But Felicity, who from inexperience was incapable of fear, had begun to realise that the author of her being was enjoying himself. Did he like frightening a brace of women, or —a much more startling thought—was he pleasurably excited at the possibility of Fountains turned upside down? Her wits, sharp enough up to a point, lingered upon tents in the Close, Tommies (whom she held in no high esteem), swaggering . about the town, officers —she admired officers—exchanging smiles with pretty girls, thousands of strangers coming and going, ■brisk trade in the shops, mad excitement dominating everything and everybody—! ' . "Worse?" repeated Mrs. Vye, in quavering tones. v "t ? ■ ! ,"I read the papers," said Mr. Vye majestically. "That is a duty and a pleasure. Often, as to-day, taking distinguished visitors to the Chapter House, the talk takes a chatty turn. I permit nothink of that sort in the cathedral. And I'm not too free with my tongue ii. our cloisters, which is holy ground to me—" "Father," urged Mrs. Vye, "do please tell us what could be worse than what you've said already." "Tch, tch, tch!" Mr. Vye imposed silence. "It comes to this. I, and all quiet, peaceable men like me, have thought, and hoped, I daresay, that war talk must be taken for what it ie worth coming from soldiers. Never, never, till this afternoon, did it' enter my head that a great gentleman who was not a soldier could look me in the eye and tell me he believed that war with Germany must come and , soon — very soon." "What great gentleman says that, Joe?" •*- "Dean Dyson." Mrs. Vye capitulated unconditionally. "If Mr. Dean said that, I know what I'm a-going to do?" "Yes, dear —?" "I shall see to it that Felicity join.up with the Red Cross before the week's out. What do you say, child?" "Oh, I'm always ready for a bit of fun," replied Felicity. Mr. Vye rebuked her' with a deep growl and a minatory gesture. Then., | even more portentously than before, hn repeated what the Dean had said. War inevitable; and it most -ghgn'

(Author of "Quinney't") ——-———J _

it came, an Armageddon into which all | the great nations would be drawn. But, the Dean had gone further than this, talking confidentially with an old servant and friends. He predicted a ehangc in national life and manners, quite immeasurable at .the moment, and he wci t on to foresee the dislocation of social conditions, the impoverishment of the landed gentry and much else that had to be included in the colossal costs of a world-wide war. Mr. Vye had happened to meet the Dean within a few minutes of his talk with Sir Alastair. Incredulously, he had repeated what Sir Alastair had said, expecting rebuttal and words of comfort. Instead he had been, temporarily, stricken to the dust. A great soldier and a great civilian thought alike.

Felicity saw Enoch for a few minutes after supper. "Will you do something to please me, Enie 1" "I should think I would, you sweet thing. What is it?' "I want you to buy yourself a nice smart new suit of clothes. I rather fancied blue serge with a grey trilby hat, but I changed my mind when I was half-way through my cup of cocoa at supper. I'm simply dying to see you in a grey suit, light grey flannel coat and trousers, with a buttonhole, and a straw boater, with a riband round it matching your tie." "Bless you! You shall. I'll have a fit —and so will dad, although I shan't ask him to pay for mine." "Oh, I do love you, Enie, more and more and more."

Now young Saint, being his father's son, being the Dean's pupil and friend, was a youth methodical in his habit* After parting from Felicity ,in the friendly dark of the back garden he hastened to his bedroom, where he set down in scholarly handwriting the items of his new spring plumage. Suddenly, pencil in hand, he paused. Within the week he had seen a young man wearing a jaunty grey flannel suit, a straw boater embellished by a grey riband, and, yes, sporting in the lapel of his coat some bright blossom. As he walked, he flourished a cane—! . Felicity must have seen and admired this youth. Who was he? l«ot the dean's nephew ? No. One of the bishop's grandsons? No. A good-looking cnap, with a roguish, roving eye. Young Alf Kerridge. ; CHAPTER 111. In the Brenda Gorge. 1 Felicity did not join the Red Cross. Within 24 hours the Walk was repeating what Mr. Vye had said was not to be repeated. The Walk refused to be intimidated. Indeed, all over the kingdom, there was a soporific lull before the storm broke with such incredible fury. The Close, with thej salient exception of the wisest man in it, refused to believe that war could be. Meanwhile, Enoch was happy in a fool's paradise, taking for granted that Felicity loved him even as he loved her. Impossible, and foolish, to blame either man or maid. Felicity was little more than a child, not quite so innocent as she looked, inoffensively well pleased with herself, self-assured that she was prettier and better educated than her sisters, anxious to please, radiating joy in the passing moment, and a very good little girl, albeit incapable of measuring accurately either Enoch's feelings or her own. She was clever enough to know that her lover took himself seriously; and instinctively she reckoned this to be a disability. She hoped that she might be able to chaff him out of his brooding introspective moods, so alien to her, out of a self-depreciation that diminished his market value. Mrs. Vye, who had occasional flashes of true insight, had said disconcertingly: "Enoch is an old man's son. I mind •me when us girls all said that Abel Saint would never marry. He must have been 44 when he began to pay attention to Lily Bissell. My! How we laughed over that! She taught in the infant school. But not one of us girls ever thought we'd live to see old Abel pushing a pram along the Green. We did—with Judy in it, a lovely baby, but Lily had to pay for Judy. When Enoch came along five years afterwards, w;e all thought Abel would be left alone , with Judy. I don't believe that Lilyhas had one day's good health since; and the baby looked exactly like a little old marmoset. Well, Fee, they say, and maybe it's gospel truth, that* an old man's child is born old. Abel was past 50 when Enoch was christened." Felicity recalled this talk which had taken place before Enoch kissed her. She. couldn't escape the conviction that Enoch had little or none of the resilency of yputh. . During the merry month of May they were very happy. It was so easy to meet, but not too easy. Enoch, being a Romantic, invented a cypher; they corresponded, hiding their letters behind a row of quartos in the Gate Housg Library To the girl this was tremendous fun, a daily excitement. The boy suffered now and again from the prickings of conscious. He disliked any form of dissimulation; he wanted his people and all Fountains to know that Felicity was his girl. But she refuted prettily and obstinately his arguments in favour of laying their cards face up on the table. Because Enoch was happy, he became more healthy. His eyes grew clearer and more glowing; into his pale cheeks 1 flowed a delicate colour; he carried himself less humbly. Wearing his new grey flannel suit, he had an odd, heartening adventure. He saw the bishop approaching carrying a heavy book. My lord of Fountains was greatly beloved, the more so, perhaps, because he was gentle and kind rather than clever. He was very short-sighted. When Enoch raised his hat—the straw "boater"—the bishop smiled, as if inviting the young man to speak to him. At once Enoch approached and asked if he might carry the book. The .bishop not only gave him the book, but slipped a hand through Enoch's arm. When they reached the gateway of the Palace, my lord said in his slightly quavering old man's voice: "You must forgive a failing memory. Your face is so familiar to me. Are you staying with the dean? Perhaps you would like to come in and have a cup of tea with me." Enoch explained who he was. The bishop laughed. "My dear boy, I mistook you for a sprig of quality—and so you are. I repeat my invitation: drink a cup of tea with me." All Fountains heard of this. - . tXo be continued .. i