professed to be, she couldnot relieve her superior of the agreeable task of waiting at table,though she performed all the intermediate duties between kitchen anddining-room while the dinner was in progress, and was greatly interestedin and impressed with the splendour of Mrs Chadwick, if somewhatdisconcerted by this, her first, view of ladies dining in evening dress.
The elegance of the ladies, and the imposing spectacle of Mr Musgrave'sshirt front, filled her with wondering admiration; while the gay,careless chatter of the strangers, and Mr Errol's easy and amusingtalk, caused her to forget at times that she was present in the capacityof servitor, and not an interested spectator of a new kind of kinema.
Eliza's deportment in its aloof detachment was admirable; the merriestsally of wit was lost upon her, and Mrs Chadwick's surprising knack oftelling daring stories elicited no more than a disapproving sniff.Eliza was as wonderful in her way as the guests, in Ellen's opinion.
The enjoyment ended for Ellen with the placing of the dessert on thetable, and the closing of the dining-room door but she carried thewonder of all she had heard and seen to the kitchen, and there relatedit for the benefit of Martha and Mr King, who had looked in with a viewto dining late himself. Eliza, collapsed in an arm-chair, pronouncedherself too weary to eat.
The enjoyment for Mr Musgrave began where it should have ended, withthe departure of the ladies from the dining-room. He closed the doorupon them with formal politeness, and then returned to his seat with anair as collapsed as Eliza's, and lighted himself a cigar. The vicar,lighting a cigar also, looked across at him, and smiled.
"She will certainly," he said, "wake Moresby up."
John Musgrave took the cigar from his mouth, and examined the lightedend thoughtfully, a frown contracting his brow as though the sight of acigar annoyed him. Since he was in reality addicted to cigar smoking,the frown was probably induced by his reflections.
"I am not in sympathy with advanced women," he remarked, after a pause."A woman should be womanly."
He frowned again, and regarded the vicar through the chrysanthemumsdecorating the centre of the table.
"She smokes," he said presently, and added, after a moment--"so doesBelle. Belle used not to do these things. She is much too nice a womanto have a cigarette stuck between her lips."
Walter Errol took the cigar from between his own lips, waved the cloudof smoke aside, and laughed.
"John," he said, "what fools we men are!"
Mr Musgrave stared.
"I don't follow you," he remarked coldly.
"It's all prejudice, old fellow," said the vicar pleasantly. "If therewere any real evil in it, should you and I be doing it?"
"You wouldn't have women do the things men do, would you?" demanded hishost.
"Why not?"
John Musgrave fingered the stem of a wineglass, and appeared for themoment at a loss for a suitable reply. Failing to find any logicalanswer to this perfectly simple question, he said:
"I don't like to see women adopting men's habits. It's unnatural. It--it loses them our respect."
"That, I take it," the vicar returned seriously, "depends less on whatthey do than the spirit in which they do it. I could not, for instance,lose my respect for Mrs Sommers if I saw her smoking a pipe."
John Musgrave gasped. Such a possibility was beyond his thinking.
"Would you care to see your own wife smoke?" he asked.
"If she wanted to, certainly," Mr Errol replied without hesitation."She hasn't started it yet. But it would not disconcert me if she did.We live in a progressive age."
"I doubt whether smoking comes under the heading of progress," MrMusgrave returned drily.
Walter Errol looked amused.
"Only in the sense, of wearing down a prejudice," he replied. "We areold-fashioned folk in Moresby, John. We are hedged about withprejudices; and to us a perfectly harmless pleasure appears undesirablebecause it is an innovation. Human nature is conservative; it takesunkindly to change. But each generation has to reconcile itself to thechanges introduced by the next. One has to move with the times, or beleft behind and out of sympathy with one's world. The world won't putback to wait for us."
"Then I prefer," John Musgrave answered, "to remain out of sympathy."
The vicar was abruptly reminded of this conversation with his host whenlater they rejoined the ladies. The atmosphere of John Musgrave'sdrawing-room struck foreign. It was a rule of Mr Musgrave never tosmoke there. There were other rooms in a house in which a man couldsmoke, he asserted; the drawing-room was the woman's sanctum, and shouldbe kept free from the objectionable fumes. Although there was no longera woman to occupy Mr Musgrave's drawing-room, he adhered to his rulestrictly, because adhering to rule was his practice, and men of JohnMusgrave's temperament do not change the habit of a lifetime merely onaccount of the removal of the reason for a stricture. But unmistakablyon this particular night the rule had been violated; the fragrance ofcigarette smoke lingered in the air, and on a small table beside MrsChadwick's coffee-cup an ash-tray, containing a partially smokedcigarette, confessed unblushingly that Mrs Chadwick had been enjoyingher after-dinner smoke. On a cushion beside Mrs Chadwick, who wasseated on the sofa, reposed the pampered pekinese, the presence of whichboth Eliza and her master resented equally.
John Musgrave gravely ignored both these objectionable novelties, and,crossing the room in his deliberate fashion, seated himself beside MrsErrol, as a man adrift in uncongenial surroundings seeks refuge in thesociety of one upon whom the mantle of respectability still rested, andwho embodied for him safe and familiar things.
Walter Errol shared the sofa with the pekinese and the pekinese'smistress, and smoothed the little creature's silken coat while hechatted with its owner and Mrs Sommers, who, a devoted admirer of thevicar's, sat on the other side of him.
"I've been hearing such a lot about the parish from your wife," MrsChadwick said. "I'm quite charmed with the place. I have always longedto find a spot that has been passed over by time, so that I could bringit up to date in a hurry. It takes the people's breath away at first;but they grow to like it--like riding on a switchback and standing on amoving staircase. When one learns to balance one's self these thingsare delightful."
"I can well believe it," the vicar answered, and wondered whether shesuspected that she had already succeeded in taking away the breath ofone of Moresby's inhabitants. "But I doubt whether you will find usexactly grateful."
She looked him directly in the eyes and smiled. She was, he observed, avery handsome woman, and her smile was radiant.
"I never look for gratitude," she answered; "it is a waste of time. Andwhy should people be grateful? Whatever we do, even though it beostensibly for the benefit of others, we do in a measure for ourselves.Therefore there is no sufficient ground for gratitude. I shall simplylove modernising Moresby. Modernising is one of my cranks. Theimprovement of women's economic position is another. I don't employ anymen servants, except for the rough and hard work. I have a womanbutler, women chauffeurs, women gardeners--head gardeners; they havelads under them. And their wages are at the same rate as men's wages.It works admirably. You must come and inspect every department when weare settled in. And if you can help with any ideas I shall begrateful."
"So you permit yourself the grace of gratitude?" he said, smiling.
"Oh, that's a figure of speech, of course. I hope you will be kind tome, and let me poke about the schools, and interfere generally?"
"If that is a kindness, you can count on it," he said. "I shall begrateful for ideas too. I've grown behind the times with the rest."
"You humbug!" remarked Mrs Sommers with a laugh. "He is the onlyprogressive person in Moresby," she added, turning to Mrs Chadwick, whowas watching the vicar's caressing hand as it played with her dog'sears. "You'll find he will possibly think ahead of you. Where you willneed to start--and I very much doubt whether you will get beyond thestarting-point--is with my brother, John. Modernise him, my dear, and Iwill b
elieve in woman's power."
Mrs Chadwick glanced towards John Musgrave, seated erect in his chair,conversing seriously with the vicar's bored little wife; then her eyeswandered back to Belle's face and rested there affectionately.
"You have set me something of a task," she said. "But I am going toattempt it."
Walter Errol laughed softly.
"Since I possess already unshakable faith in your sex," he said, "Ipredict enormous changes. `Ce n'est pas une simple emeute, c'est unrevolution.'"
CHAPTER FIVE.
Mrs Chadwick's
Coelebs: The Love Story of a Bachelor Page 6
