Lalage's Lovers Part 35

"If you're offering me a choice," I said, "I'd a great deal rather drag Miss Battersby over to the Archdeacon's house and dump her down there in a wedding ring with a white satin dress tied round her neck by a ribbon.

I might manage that, but I'm const.i.tutionally unfitted to deal with Lalage. It was you who said you would put her in her place. I told the Archdeacon 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 republics where there's no extradition."

"I'll speak to your mother about it."

"As a matter of fact," I said, "Lalage is acting strictly in accordance with my mother's instructions in referring this matter to you. Why not try 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 it so I'm not even offering advice, but if I were you I'd be careful about anything in the way of physical violence. Remember that Lalage has Selby-Harrison behind her and he knows the law. You can see for yourself by the way he ferreted out that text of First Timothy that he has the brain 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 in Ballygore that for the future she intends to watch Lalage's performances from a distance."

"She may make an exception in this case," I said. "If my uncle states it at all fully in his letter it can scarcely fail to make an appeal to her."

Miss Battersby sighed. She was evidently not hopeful.

"Lalage is such a dear girl," she said. "It is a sad pity that she will----"

"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 and honest Lalage would have been canonized long ago."

"She's a little foolish sometimes."

"All great reformers," I said, "appear foolish to the people of their own 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 his letters for him."

"He won't want you to write that one to Miss Pettigrew. He has his faults of temper, but he's essentially a gentleman, and he wouldn't dream of asking you to write that particular letter for him. I don't think you need go to him yet. Stay and talk to me about Lalage and the hardness 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 to marry Miss Battersby. Besides being sweet and lovable, as Lalage pointed out, she has a strong sense of duty which would be quite invaluable in the diocese. Very few people after an agitating morning would go straight off to settle flowers.

CHAPTER XX

I looked at my watch as I got into my trap and found that it was eleven o'clock, not more than two hours since my uncle's letter had been handed to me at the breakfast table. Yet I felt thoroughly tired. No one who has only just recovered from influenza ought to be called upon to face a crisis. At the best of times a crisis of any magnitude is too much for me. When I am weak anything of the sort exhausts me rapidly. It is most unfair that I should be beset with crises as I am. Other men, men who like excitement and unexpected calls for exertion, are condemned to years of unbroken monotony. I, who desire nothing so much as peace, have tumult and turmoil thrust upon me. I drove down the long avenue of Thormanby Park and determined to get home as quickly as possible. There is a greenhouse at the bottom of our garden which at that time was quite unfrequented because something had gone wrong with the heating apparatus and the more delicate plants had been removed from it. I intended to retire to it as soon as I got home with a hammock chair and a novel. I had 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, as is always the case, through no fault of my own. At the gate lodge of Thormanby Park I met Lalage. She was riding a bicycle and jumped down as soon as she saw me. I pulled up my pony, of course. Even if Lalage had not jumped down I should have pulled up the pony. Lalage is a sure harbinger of trouble. Crises attend her course through life. Yet I cannot help stopping to talk to her when I get the chance. I suppose I am moved by some obscure instinct which makes me wish to know the worst in store for me as soon as possible.

"I'm darting on," said Lalage, "to secure p.u.s.s.y Battersby, but I stopped 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 guess the sort of temper he's in."

"Gout?"

"No. Your letter."

"My letter? Oh, yes. I'd forgotten that letter for the moment. You mean the 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 a.s.s, isn't he, to lose his temper about that? But I can't stop to argue. I must get p.u.s.s.y Battersby at once. There isn't a moment to 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 bay forever. The wonder is that she didn't come long ago."

"She travelled by the night mail and was rather dishevelled when she arrived, hair a bit tousled, a s.m.u.t on the end of her nose and a general look of crinklyness about her clothes. Hilda has been in floods of tears and sobbing like a steam engine all morning."

"I don't wonder at all. Any nice-minded girl would. It can't be pleasant for her to see her mother in such a state."