by Ian Hay
CHAPTER FOUR.
THE DEVIL A MONK WOULD BE.
The first member of the Rectory household whose eyes opened on Sundaymorning was the Rector himself, who promptly arose and repaired to thechurch, there to conduct the early morning service. The second was acertain Mr Dawks, who has not previously been mentioned in thisnarrative. He was a dog. The term may include almost anything, whichis perhaps fortunate for Mr Dawks; otherwise it might have beennecessary to class him under some more elastic heading. Of hisancestry nothing was known, though many conjectures could have beenmade, and most of them would have been correct. He had been foundlying half-dead in a country lane by Daphne six years ago, and thoughmistaken at the time for a derelict monkey jettisoned from somemigratory hurdy-gurdy, had subsequently proved to be a mongrel puppyof a few months old. Regular meals and ripening years had developedhim into a sort of general epitome of all the dogs that ever existed.He possessed points which, exhibited individually, would have gainedmany marks at Cruft's Dog-Show. His tail would have increased themarket value of a Chow fourfold; his shoulders and forelegs would havedone credit to a prize bull-terrier; his ears would have inflated theself-esteem of the silkiest spaniel in existence; and his lower jawwould have been regarded as an asset by an alligator. His manners werewithout reproach, but were derived rather from mental vacuity thannobility of character; for with the deportment of an hidalgo hecombined the intelligence of a permanent official.
His name, as already mentioned, was Mr Dawks, but he responded withequal amiability to "Angel Child" or "Beautiful One" (Daphne);"Flea-Club" (Ally); "Puss, puss!" (Nicky); and "Tank-Engine" (Stiffy),to whose mechanical mind bandy legs and laboured breathing suggested ashort wheel-base and leaky outside-cylinders.
Mr Dawks, having arisen from his nightly resting-place outside DaphneVereker's bedroom door, strolled downstairs to the study. The Rectorwas frequently to be found there early in the morning, and were he nottoo deeply absorbed in some dusty volume, there might be biscuits. Butthe room was empty. Mr Dawks laboriously remounted the staircase andscratched delicately at his mistress's bedroom door.
He was admitted, and found Daphne, in dressing-gown and slippers,preparing for her Sunday morning round, in which she doubled the partsof what is known in the North of England as a "knocker-up" andmistress of the wardrobe; for the week's clean garments were alwaysdistributed on these occasions. The pair set forth together.
After a tap at her father's door, answered by a melodious"Good-morning, daughter!" which showed that the Rector had returnedfrom his ministrations, Daphne proceeded to the regions above. Hereupon the landing she encountered her youngest sister, who oughtproperly to have been dressing in the bedroom which she shared withCilly. Instead, she was sitting resignedly outside the door upon abundle composed of her Sabbath garments. As she was obviously posingfor the excitation of sympathy, Daphne ignored her and passed into thebedroom, where the window-blind was flapping in the breeze and Cillylay in a condition of almost total eclipse (if we except a long tawnypig-tail) under the bed-clothes.
"Cilly," inquired Daphne, "what's Nicky doing outside?"
"I kicked her out," replied a muffled voice.
"Why?"
"Well"--Cilly poked her head, tortoise-fashion, from underits covering--"she cheeked me--about"--the head retiredagain--"something."
"Bobby Gill, I suppose," remarked Daphne calmly.
Cilly's countenance reappeared, rosily flushed with healthy sleep andmaiden modesty.
"Yes."
"Well, you must take her in again," said Daphne. "She's only playingup for a cold, sitting out there, and it will be a score for her ifshe can sniff the house down to-morrow."
"All right," said Cilly resignedly. "I suppose I can pay her out someother way."
"I wouldn't, if I were you," advised the elder sister. "She'll onlywait till she gets you and Bobby together, and then say something_awful_. It's your own fault, dear. You do ask for it, you know."
Cilly, whose flirtations were more numerous than discreet, sigheddeeply, and rolled a pair of large and dreamy eyes upon her sister.
"Daph, don't you _ever_ fall in love with men? Well--boys, if youlike!" she continued, parrying an unspoken comment. "I know I dooverdo it a bit; but you--well, you never do it at all. Don't you loveto feel them edging up to you, and getting pink in the face, andtrying to think of things to say to you, and offering to takeyou----"
"No," said Daphne decidedly; "they bore me. Barring Dad and Mr Dawksand the boys, I have no use for males. Besides, I'm always too busy tobother with them: they waste so much of your time. Now, my child, ifyou want any breakfast you had better get up. I must go and see theboys."
She departed, and with a passing admonition to Nicky to abandon hereleemosynary vigil and be sure to wash her neck, continued on her way,still accompanied by the faithful Dawks, to the chamber occupied byher two youngest brothers.
Here peace reigned. Stiffy, one of whose chief joys in life was thestudy of the British Railway System, from Automatic Couplings toNewspaper Specials, was sitting up in bed with an old _Bradshaw_,laboriously ascertaining by how many routes and with how few changesthe ordinary railway maniac might travel from Merthyr-Tydvil toStockton-on-Tees. At the other end of the room the ever-occupiedAnthony, with his night-shirt for a surplice and a stocking for astole, was standing by an open grave (the hearthrug) rehearsing theopening passages of the Service for the Burial of the Dead,--anexercise to which, in common with various other ecclesiasticaloffices, he was much addicted.
Daphne, having kissed Stiffy and gravely given her verdict upon aknotty point which was exercising that scrupulous youth's mind,namely, whether it was permissible by the rules of the game to includein his schedule of connections a train which ran on Thursdays Only,handed him his weekly dole of clean linen and turned to the youngestmember of the family.
"Good-morning, Tony dear," she said cheerfully.
The celebrant, who, true artist that he was, disliked unnecessaryabruptness in his transitions, stopped short in the Ninetieth Psalm.
"Dearly Beloved Brethren," he gabbled in an apologetic undertone, "Iam called for a moment from the side of this the last resting-place ofour lamented sister"--apparently it was a lady friend he wasinterring--"by other business; but I shall be back in a minute." Then,unwinding the stocking from about his neck--
"Daphne, those new vests are beastly scratchy. Must I wear them?"
"I know, old man," responded his sister sympathetically. "But they'vebeen bought and paid for--horribly dear, too!--so you must lump it.Try wearing them inside out for a time. That takes the edge off abit."
And thus, with sage counsel and practical suggestion (together with abrief whistle to Mr Dawks, who was moistening his internal clay at thewater-jug), our young Minerva passed on to the sleeping-place of herbeloved Ally.
Rather to her surprise, Mr Aloysius Vereker was awake and out ofbed. The reason was plain. Before him upon the dressing-tablelay a pot of shaving-soap of a widely advertised brand, a newshaving-brush, a sixpenny bottle of bay rum, and a lather dish ofred indiarubber,--youthful extravagances to which the hardenedshaver of twenty years' standing, who smears himself with ordinaryBrown Windsor out of the soap-dish and wipes his razor on a pieceof newspaper or the window-curtain, looks back with mingledamusement and regret. In his hand gleamed a new razor.
"Careful!" he gasped through a sea of lather. "Don't shake the room,kid!"
Daphne sat cautiously down upon the bed, and surveyed the operatorwith unfeigned pride and enthusiasm. She clasped her hands.
"Ally, how splendid! When did you begin doing it?"
Ally, weathering a hairless and slippery corner, replied--
"Third time. I'm doing it chiefly to make something _grow_. A mansimply _has_ to shave after he gets into the Fifteen: you look such afool on Saturday nights if you don't. A chap in our house calledMallock, who has had his colours four years, has a beard abouthalf-an-inch long by Friday. He's a gorgeous sight."
Dap
hne shuddered slightly.
Ally continued.
"I don't expect to rival him, of course, but I should like to havesomething to scrape off in the dormitory. My fag always grins so whenhe brings me my shaving-water--little tick!"
Daphne was too well versed in the eccentricities of the young of themale species to experience the slightest feeling of surprise at herbrother's singular ambition. She merely wrapped a blanket round hershoulders and settled herself against the head of the bed, anxiouslycontemplating the progress of a sanguinary campaign in the regionsurrounding Ally's jugular vein.
Presently operations came to a conclusion; the traces of battle wereobliterated with much sponging and spraying; and the pair sat andgossiped amicably while Ally stropped his razor and put studs in hisSunday shirt.
It was a full quarter of an hour before Daphne returned to her room,for her Sunday morning call upon Ally was always a protracted affair.But before she left she had, after the usual blandishments, exactedfrom him a promise that he would come to church. Their father neverexercised any compulsion in this matter; but if any member of thefamily did stay at home on Sunday morning, the Rector's mute distresswas such as to blight the spirits of the household for the rest of theday; and Daphne always exerted herself to the full to round up herentire flock in the Rectory pew at the appointed hour. The mostrecalcitrant members thereof were Ally and Nicky, but the former couldusually be cajoled and the latter coerced.
After breakfast the Rector retired to his study to con his sermon; andnot long afterwards was to be seen, key in hand, passing through thewicket-gate which led from the garden into the churchyard. Havingtolled the church bell for five minutes, he busied himself at thealtar, and then turned up the lessons at the lectern, marking thesesame in plain figures; for the Squire, who fulfilled the office ofreader, required careful guidance in this respect. (He had been knownto read the same lesson twice; also the Second Lesson before theFirst; and once he had turned over two pages together towards the endof a long chapter, and embarked with growing huskiness and visibleindignation upon a supplementary voyage of forty-seven verses.)
Presently the Rector returned to the house for his surplice; and tenminutes later, a tall and saintly figure, followed his hobnailed andbullet-headed choristers into the chancel.
Snayling Church, though a diminutive building, was one of the oldestof its kind in England. The tower was square and stumpy, and hadserved as a haven of refuge more than once. A later generation,following the pious but unnecessary fashion of the day, had erectedupon its summit a steeple of homely design, which indicated the routeto heaven in an officious and altogether gratuitous manner. Inside thebuilding itself the roof was supported by massive stone pillars andNorman arches. Beneath the floor lay folk long dead, their names,virtues, and destination set forth in many curious inscriptions instone and brass, all greatly prized by the tourist with histracing-paper and heel-ball. The chancel contained a real Crusader,who reclined, sword in hand and feet crossed, upon a massivesarcophagus, his good lady by his side. Tony Vereker had woven many alegend about _him_, you may be sure.
Each of the tiny transepts contained two square pews, decently veiledfrom the public gaze by red curtains. Those on the north side belongedrespectively to the Squire, whose arrival in church with his wife andfour daughters always served as an intimation to the organist--MrPack, the schoolmaster--that it was eleven o'clock and time to wind upthe voluntary; and old Lady Curlew of Hainings, who invariably arrivedfive minutes before the hour, accompanied by her maid; who, havingpacked her mistress into a corner of the pew with cushions andhassocks, retired discreetly to the free seats by the door.
Of the pews in the south transept one was the property of the Lord ofthe Manor, the Marquis of Kirkley. It was seldom occupied, for hislordship suffered from the misfortune (which modern legislation isdoing so much to alleviate) of possessing more residences than hecould comfortably live in. His adjacent seat, Kirkley Abbey, wasseldom open except for a few weeks during the pheasant season; andeven the recurrence of that momentous period did not postulate unduecongestion in the family pew.
The other pew was the Rector's, and here Daphne succeeded on thisparticular Sabbath morning in corralling the full strength of hertroupe.
_Non sine pulvere_, however. Ally, as already related, had provedfairly tractable, but Nicky (who just at present stood badly inneed of the services of a competent exorcist) had almost evadedecclesiastical conscription by a new and ingenious device. Atten-fifteen precisely she had fallen heavily down a flight of twosteps and sprained her ankle. Unsympathetic Daphne, experienced in thedetection of every form of malingering, had despatched her upstairswith a bottle of Mr Elliman's strongest embrocation--the property ofAlly--with instructions to anoint the injured member and reportherself for duty at ten-forty-five prompt. At the appointed hourNicky, limping painfully and smiling heroically, had joined the restof the family in the hall.
Presently Ally remarked casually--
"Rotten stink here. Furniture polish, or something."
"Yes--filthy reek!" agreed Stiffy.
"It's turpentine," cried Cilly, crinkling her nose.
"It's Elliman," said Tony.
"It's _you_, Nicky!" said everybody at once.
Daphne, who was drawing on her gloves, peeled them off again with somedeliberation, and took her youngest sister by the shoulders.
"Nicky," she inquired, "how much Elliman did you use?"
That infant martyr, wincing ostentatiously, delicately protruded afoot, and exhibited a long black leg heavily swathed from knee toinstep under her stocking with a bandage of colossal dimensions.
"Not more than I could help, Daph," she said. "I found one or twoother bruises on my--all over me, in fact: so I--I just put a littleElliman on each. I didn't want to be a trouble to any one, so----"
"Run upstairs, Stiffy," Daphne interpolated swiftly, "and see how muchElliman is left in the bottle."
By this time Cilly had thrown open the front door and staircasewindows, and the remainder of the Vereker family were fanningthemselves with their Sunday hats and ostentatiously fighting forbreath--an exercise in which they persevered until Stiffy reappearedcarrying an empty bottle.
"Two bobs' worth!" shouted Ally. "And I meant it to last for months!Nicky, you little _sweep_!"
Daphne glanced at the hall clock.
"Fourteen minutes!" she calculated frantically. "Yes, it can just bedone. Nicky, my cherub, you shall come to church this morning if Ihave to _scrape_ you. Go on, you others! I'll follow myself as quicklyas I can."
The last sentence was delivered far up the staircase, which MissVereker was ascending with flying feet, a tearful and unwillingappendage trailing behind her. Next moment the bathroom door banged,and the departing worshippers heard both taps turned on.
* * * * *
At two minutes past eleven precisely Daphne and Nicky, the formercool, collected, and as prettily dressed as any woman in thecongregation, the latter scarlet as if from recent parboiling, walkeddemurely down the aisle just as the choir entered the chancel, lustilybellowing a hymn which drew attention to the advantages accruing inthe next world to that Servant of the Lord who should be found Waitingin his Office, in a Posture not specified--Tony used often to wonderwhat would happen if the Day of Judgment should fall upon a Bankholiday or Saturday afternoon--and joined the rest of the family inthe Rectory pew.
* * * * *
A sermon, we all know, offers unique facilities for quiet reflection.As their father's silvery voice rose and fell in the cadences of hisdiscourse--he had soared far above the heads of his bucolic audience,and was now disporting himself in a delectable but quite inaccessibleaether of his own, where the worshippers (such of them as had notyielded to slothful repose) followed his evolutions with mystified andrespectful awe, much as a crowd of citizens in a busy street gapeupwards at the gambols of an aeroplane--the Rectory children wedgedthemselves into their own particular noo
ks of the pew, and prepared toget through the next twenty minutes in characteristic fashion.
Ally closed his eyes and assumed an attitude of slumber, as befittedhis years and dignity. But he was not asleep. He did not lookcomfortable. Perhaps his breakfast had disagreed with him, or possiblyhe was contemplating within himself the vision of a recedingUniversity and an all-too-adjacent office-stool. Daphne, with her eyesfixed on the wall opposite and her brow puckered, was pondering somedomestic problem--her own extravagantly small feet, mayhap, orWednesday's hypothetical leg of mutton. Despite her burden of care,her face looked absurdly round and childish under her big beaver hat.One hand supported her chin in a characteristic pose, the othercontrolled the movements of the restless Anthony, who wasimpersonating something of a vibratory nature. Cilly, with glowingeyes and parted lips, was reading the Marriage Service in herPrayerbook. Nicky, whose recent ablutions had apparently purged her ofoutward sin only, had pulled forward two long wisps of black hair frombehind her ears, and by crossing these under her nose had providedherself with a very realistic and terrifying pair of moustaches, byportentous twistings of which, assisted by the rolling of a frenziedeye, she was endeavouring to make poor Stiffy laugh. That right-mindedyouth, though hard pressed, had so far withstood temptation byresolutely reciting to himself a favourite excerpt from Bradshaw'sRailway Guide, beginning "Brighton (Central), Preston Park, BurgessHill, Hassocks" ... and ending with ... "Grosvenor Road, Victoria,"--asedative exercise to which he was much addicted at moments of bodilyanguish or mental stress; but it was plain that his defence wasweakening.
Fortunately, the approaching explosion, which would have been of acataclysmal nature,--Stiffy was not a boy to do things by halves,--wasaverted by a change of demeanour on the part of the temptress. Herquick ear had caught some unaccustomed sound behind her. Letting goher moustaches, which immediately assumed a more usual position, shesquirmed round in her seat and gently parted the red rep curtainswhich separated the Rectory pew from that of Kirkley Abbey. An excitedgurgle apprised her fellow-worshippers of the fact that some unusualsight had met her eyes.
What Nicky saw was this.
Immediately opposite to her improvised peep-hole sat a man--a largeman with square shoulders and an immobile face. He was clean-shaven,with two strong lines running from his nostrils to the corners of hismouth--a mouth which even in repose looked determined and grim. Hepossessed a square jaw and rather craggy brows. It was difficult todecide if he were sleeping or no, for though his eyes were closedthere was none of the abandon of slumber about his pose. His mostnoticeable feature was the set of his eyebrows, which, instead ofbeing arched or level, ran upwards and outwards in a diagonaldirection, and gave him a distinctly Satanic appearance--acircumstance which Nicky noted with sympathetic approval. He wasdressed in the somewhat _degage_ Sabbath attire affected by Englishmenspending the week-end in the country, and his feet were perched uponthe seat opposite to him.
Presently, for some cause unknown--possibly Nicky's hard breathing--heopened his eyes.
Immediately in front of him the stranger beheld a small excited face,a pair of saucer-like blue eyes, and a wide but attractive mouth--thewhole vision framed in dusty red rep. The face was flushed, the eyesglowed, and the mouth was wide open.
The picture, suddenly surprised in its inspection by a pair of theshrewdest and most penetrating eyes it had ever beheld, droppedhurriedly out of its frame and disappeared. If Nicky had waited amoment longer she would have received a less one-sided impression ofthe stranger, for almost simultaneously with the discovery of theapparition in the peep-hole the man smiled. Instantly his whole facechanged. The outer corners of his eyebrows descended, the creasebetween them disappeared, and magnificent teeth gleamed for a momentin the dim religious light of the pew.
Nicky leaned across to her eldest sister and whispered huskily:--
"There's somebody in the other pew. I think it's the Devil. Lookyourself!"
But Daphne, deep in domestic mental arithmetic, smiled and shook herhead; and Nicky received little more encouragement from the rest ofthe family. The profession of scare-monger and exploiter of mares'nests, though enjoyable on the whole, has its drawbacks: if you gethold of a genuine scare or an authentic mare's nest, nobody believesyou.
The sermon began to draw to a close, and a few minutes later theRector descended from the clouds and gave out the final hymn,prefacing his announcement by an intimation that the offertory thatday would be devoted to the needs of the Children's Cottage Hospitalin the neighbouring county town. His appeal was characteristic.
"Money," he mused, "is the most hampering and perplexing thing in thislife. It is so artificial and unnecessary. I often sigh for a worldwhere all commerce will be in kind--where a cheque on the Bank ofGratitude will settle the weekly bills, and 'I thank you!' be regardedas legal tender up to any amount. But there is no give and take inthese days. Everything, from Life and Love down to the raiment wewear, is duly appraised and ticketed, and if we stand in need of thesethings we must render a material tale of pounds and pence or gowithout. No wonder men call this the Iron Age! But, though money as arule brings nothing in its train but disappointment and regret (andtherefore it is better to have too little than too much), there aretimes and seasons when it is permitted to us to purchase happinesswith it. To-day gives us one of these opportunities. Do not let thatopportunity slip. _Post est Occasio calva._" (Respectful intake ofbreath on the part of the congregation.) "I do not urge you to give onthe plea put forward in a hymn that you will find in your books--ahymn written by a man who should have known better--a hymn which shallnever, so long as I am Rector of this parish, emerge from theobscurity of the printed page--advocating generosity in almsgiving onthe ground that contributions to the offertory on earth will berefunded at the rate of a hundred thousand per cent in heaven. I donot ask you to give either much or little. Very few of us here areover-burdened with this world's goods. Still, we can each afford tobuy _some_ happiness to-day, at a very low rate. And it will not betransitory or temporary happiness either; for every time hereafterthat your daily task or a country walk takes you past the Children'sHospital at Tilney, that happiness will blossom again withever-reviving fragrance in your hearts. Let us sing Hymn number threehundred and sixty-nine--
'Thine arm, O Lord, in days of old Was strong to heal and save....'"
There was a general upheaval of the congregation and a clatter ofrustic boots; the little organ gave a premonitory rumble, and the hymnbegan.
The hymn after the sermon is not, as a rule--to-day was anexception--an impressive canticle. _Imprimis_, it is of abnormallength and little coherence, having apparently been composed for thesole purpose of lasting out the collection of the offertory; _item_,the congregation is furtively engaged in retrieving umbrellas fromunder seats and gliding into overcoats. Hence it was always a pleasantdiversion to the Rectory children to follow the movements of the twochurchwardens as they ran their godly race up the aisle in the pursuitof alms and oblations. They even risked small sums on the result. Whenthe Squire and Mr Murgatroyd (Stationer and Dealer in Fancy Goods)stepped majestically from their respective pews and set to work onthis particular morning, Daphne produced five sixpences and handedthem to her brothers and sisters. Nicky, in her anxiety to see whatsum the stranger in the Kirkley Abbey pew would contribute to thetotal, received her own contribution with such nonchalance that thecoin slipped from her hand, and was being hunted for among hassocksupon the floor at the moment when Mr Murgatroyd reached the stranger'spew.
Nicky found her sixpence, and resumed an upright attitude just in timeto hear (in a pause between two verses) a faint papery rustle on theother side of the curtain.
A moment later Mr Murgatroyd opened the door of the Rectory pew, withhis usual friendly air of dropping in for a cup of tea, and presentedthe bag. The children put in their sixpences one by one. Nicky's turncame last. She peered into the bag, and her sharp eyes caught sight ofsomething white protruding from amid the silver and copper.
<
br /> Taking the bag from Mr Murgatroyd's hands--she controlled thatindulgent bachelor as she willed: he counted it a pleasure to turn hisstock inside out on a Saturday afternoon whenever Miss Veronica camein with a penny to spend--Nicky deliberately drew out a piece offolded crinkly white paper. This, laying the offertory bag upon thebaize-covered table in the middle of the pew, she carefully unfolded,and perused the staring black legend inscribed upon the flimsy whitebackground. When she raised her eyes they were those of an owletsuffering from mental shock.
"Golly!" she observed in bell-like tones. "The Devil has put in aten-pound note!"
