With such artless gabbling did Frank beguile the time, while the Leslies sat with the stoicism of Red Indians before palefaces, refusing to be impressed in any way, till Robin came in with apologies for being late and told Leslie minor to put the kettle on the gas ring.
“Oh, sir,” said Frank, “can I use my utility lighter? It saves matches.”
He produced his lighter. Leslie minor, ostentatiously ignoring him, took a matchbox from the mantelpiece and struck a match. Frank, apparently not seeing Leslie minor at all, flicked his lighter to a flame and turned on the gas. Leslie minor shouldered Frank in silence and blew out the utility flame. Frank with a quick movement turned the gas out and looked away into the infinite.
“Oh, sorry,” said Robin. “Here, Gresham and Leslie minor, it’s open season in my room.”
On hearing these words Leslie minor turned on the gas, Frank produced his utility lighter and handed it to his late opponent, who applied it to the gas, blew it out and handed it to Frank. Frank then put the kettle on the gas and both boys squatted by the hearth discussing cricket.
“It’s only a House rule,” said Robin to the grown-up company. “If boys from another house or the prep. school come in here, they are not supposed to talk to each other till a master says Open Season. If they talk too much he says Close Season.”
Commander Gresham asked why.
“I can’t tell you,” said Robin. “Things like that do happen in schools.”
Commander Gresham said they happened in ships too and fell into a talk with Robin while the kettle boiled.
“Sir,” said Leslie major, who aloof from a petty strife below his dignity to notice had been looking out of the window.
“Well,” said Robin.
“It’s Miss Banks from the prep. school, sir,” said Leslie major. “I think she’s coming to tea.”
“Good God, I beg your pardon Lady Fielding,” said Robin. “I never invited her.”
“She said you did, sir,” said Frank. “She said she was going to learn Latin verses with you and you had asked her to tea.”
“I’m awfully sorry,” said Robin to the company. “I did say something to Miss Banks about giving her some coaching in Latin verses, because she’s shaky on her quantities like most women, and I don’t want her to corrupt the prep. school before they come up to me. But I didn’t mean to-day.”
Lady Fielding and Jane Gresham murmured hollow nothings about how nice it would be to see Miss Banks, who then appeared at the door and was introduced. She was a small slight woman with bad skin and short hair brushed flatly back from her forehead like a man. She was wearing a black jacket and skirt of mannish appearance, a tailored white shirt with a high roll-over collar, and had a bunch of seal-rings hanging at her waist like a fob. Her legs were ungainly and her shoes what can only be called, in the worst interpretation of the word, sensible.
Her coming obviously depressed Robin and so put a damper on the whole party. Frank and Leslie minor had made the tea and brought the tea-pot to the table, so everyone sat down. Lady Fielding and Jane Gresham worked very hard at making conversation, but Miss Banks was heavy in hand.
“Excuse me, but did I get your name right?” said Miss Banks to Lady Fielding.
That lady, conscious of a slight edge to her voice which she was not quite able to control, said that if Miss Banks had got it as Fielding she was quite correct; and then wished she had not set her daughter such a bad example.
“Then it is your husband who is standing for the Tories,” said Miss Banks.
This put Lady Fielding in a quandary. The word Tories was obviously intended as a taunt to draw her. She must either accept the want of politeness, or enter into an argument with a young woman whom she had disliked from the first moment she had set eyes on her.
“Luckily,” said Lady Fielding, skilfully skirting the question, “Mr. Adams, the Labour candidate, is an unusually capable man and I may say an old friend of ours, so there will be no bitterness as far as he and my husband are concerned.”
And that will, I hope, she said to herself, be the end of it.
“We shan’t get anywhere by gentlemanly methods,” said Miss Banks. “Bitterness is the root of strength and the Tories have got to go. We got rid of Churchill and we shall get rid of his henchmen.”
Commander Gresham, a man of few words and not taking very easily to ordinary life after his long wanderings and adventures in the Far East, looked at Miss Banks with distaste and said he thought Mr. Churchill had resigned on his own initiative.
“That,” said Miss Banks, shrugging her shoulders in a way which clearly showed her opinion of Commander Gresham, “is of course a matter of opinion. A friend of mine in a very responsible position tells me that Churchill’s own party would have voted against him next day had he not resigned.”
“Do have a bun,” said Robin desperately. “They aren’t very nice but they might be nastier.”
Leslie major said sotto voce to an unseen audience that some buns weren’t very nice and couldn’t be nastier, which remark, being obviously directed against the prep. school Latin mistress, made Robin look piercingly at his pupil and wonder if he had more in him than met the eye.
Lady Fielding hastily asked Jane Gresham if she was going away for the summer holidays. Jane said she had written to the Royal Hotel at Oldquay where they had often been, but hadn’t had an answer yet.
“You ought to go to the Imperial,” said Miss Banks. “A friend of mine was at the Royal lately and says the service is dreadful. You are Frank’s mother, aren’t you?”
Jane nearly said she wasn’t, but truth prevailed.
“He is coming on nicely with his Latin,” said Miss Banks, “but he has been grounded in quite the wrong methods. We make Latin quite alive and interesting now. Little sentences about cars and aeroplanes and tanks and all the things small boys are keen on, and we have the greatest fun inventing words for them. After all, the Romans had to invent words, so why should not we?”
At this point Anne said to herself, almost aloud, “Ignorance, madam, sheer ignorance,” which made Robin look gratefully at her.
“I am sure Mr. Dale will agree with me,” said Miss Banks.
Jane Gresham had controlled herself very well up till now, but the fighting blood of a long line of sailors had been boiling up in her.
“Frank did very well in Latin in the school entrance examination,” she said in her most county family voice, “thanks to Mr. Dale’s coaching.”
All the grown-ups plunged into incoherent conversation, while Miss Banks looked up at Robin in what she considered to be an appealing way and said she must really put herself under him for some coaching and learn his methods. Robin, at the great disadvantage of being a man and a host, said they must talk about it; next term perhaps; and told Leslie minor to put the kettle on again. Anne sat very silent. That horrid Miss Banks, who she was sure knew nothing about Latin, or Governments, or Hotels, was being a nuisance to Robin, and Robin was too kind to be able to defend himself. She longed to fly into Miss Banks’s face, or to drag herself along the ground feigning a broken wing; anything to distract her from persecuting Robin.
A noise was heard outside, the door was thrown open and in came Rose Fairweather and her husband.
“Hullo, Lady Fielding,” said Rose, greeting her again with fervour, “I’m awfully sorry if it’s a party, but I wanted to see Mr. Carter’s house because I haven’t been at home for ages and we had a splendid party here for the sports ages ago in this room, so Mr. Carter said to go upstairs but I didn’t know there was a party? Does it matter?”
A frightful hubbub then arose, consisting of Lady Fielding introducing the senior classics master to Mrs. Fairweather and the discovery, at the same moment, by Captain Fairweather and Commander Gresham that they were each other. Both naval officers seemed to swell to twice their normal size and half fill the room while they rapidly brought each other up to date about their war careers. Rose at once took possession of Robin; who was astou
nded by her beauty and her silliness.
“It was Philip Winter that this room belonged to, or else it was Colin Keith,” said Rose, sitting down at the table and in her old artless way pulling Robin down by one hand to sit beside her. “Philip was frightfully brainy and we got engaged and it was perfectly meagre because he did nothing but talk about economy and things and wouldn’t buy a car so we got unengaged. I was engaged six times before I got engaged to John,” continued Rose, looking lovingly at her husband. “Daddy says you are marvellous at Latin and things, Mr. Dale, and I do think it’s perfectly meagre your only having one foot. Mr. Carter told me all about it. You ought to get engaged, Mr. Dale, it’s marvellous. Who is she?”
This question applied to Miss Banks, who was nearly boiling over at being so ignored by the Headmaster’s daughter.
“Miss Banks who takes Latin in the prep. school,” said Robin, introducing that lady.
“How perfectly meagre,” said Rose, looking at Miss Banks with an appraising eye and apparently finding nothing in her. “I mean one has to be most awfully brainy to know Latin and things and you must feel a bit meagre teaching the prep. boys.”
Miss Banks said the First year of Latin was the most formative of all and a friend of hers who had taken a very high degree at Liverpool University was devoting her life to giving Latin lessons to mentally defective children. They responded, she said, in a quite extraordinary manner to her stimulating methods.
Lady Fielding plunged into the silence that followed this paralysing statement and said she was sure it must have been quite extraordinary. She then wished she had not spoken. Robin, who was enjoying his tea-party less and less with this cuckoo in his study, said he was very sorry but he would have to be getting back to the sports soon and asked Lady Fielding if she and Anne would care to see the rest of the House. Miss Banks said how delightful and she would come with them, adding that she wanted to know every corner of the school. Lady Fielding, looking significantly at Robin, said she was afraid she and Anne must be going soon and perhaps they might come and see over the house another time.
“Sir,” said Leslie major, who had been looking at a pile of gramophone records, “what ripping records you’ve got.”
“Do you like music?” said Anne.
“Rather,” said Leslie major. “Mother is awfully musical. Have you got the rest of Holst’s Planets, sir? I can only find three here.”
“A friend of mine, a much older woman than I am,” said Miss Banks reverently, “but wonderfully youthful in mind, used to know Holst very well.”
There appeared to be no adequate comment on this statement. Anne, knowing that one ought not to allow a long silence at a tea-party, very bravely said that she liked the Planets very much.
“My favourite is Uraynus,” said Miss Banks. “The wonderful far-awayness of the strings!”
We fear that Captain Fairweather, Commander and Mrs. Gresham, Lady Fielding and Anne, though disliking every remark that Miss Banks made, would have accepted this statement at its face value; and as for Mrs. Fairweather she had been for the last five minutes busily employed in re-making-up her beautiful face and on this important task had concentrated her whole intellect. Robin blenched inwardly but could say nothing. Messrs. Leslie (major and minor) and Gresham looked quickly at Miss Banks and then at each other.
“Sir,” said Leslie major to Robin in a voice of angelic innocence, “could you let us put Uranus on one day? I was thinking of giving it to mother for Christmas and I’d like to hear it.”
Miss Banks looked as black as thunder. The naval gentlemen, scenting some kind of disturbance, went back to their naval conversation. Lady Fielding with her trained social sense and Anne, who was an apt pupil, also realised that something was wrong.
“I adore records,” said Rose, putting her powder and lipstick away. “I had perfectly marvellous records in Lisbon. The American naval men used to bring them over from New York. Cash Campo and his Symposium Boys have been in New York ever since the war and I had a marvellous one of their’s called ‘Kiss, kiss, kiss, And You’ll Never Do Amiss.’ I played it forty times running the night the Admiral dined with us didn’t I, John?”
“If the Admiral hadn’t been there you’d only have played it once, my girl,” said Captain Fairweather. “Come along now and say good-bye to your people. So long, Gresham, the Admiralty will find me any time.”
With loud protests at the meagreness of this command Rose got up, bade farewell to the company and followed her husband, and then the whole party went back to the sports.
“Good-bye, Robin,” said Lady Fielding. “Come and see us whenever you are in Barchester. Anne is going to the Hallidays for a bit, and perhaps she and Sylvia will spend a few days at Rushwater,”
“In that case I might find my way there with the Leslies,” said Robin. “Martin Leslie did ask me to come. Good-bye, Anne, I like your flowery frock.”
Anne looked gratefully at him and the Fieldings went away.
It was the Headmaster’s long-standing habit to have a junior master and a boy or two to Sunday supper as well as the Carters, who always came except when the Birketts went to the Carters. On the evening of the Sports Robin found Leslie major in the Headmaster’s drawing-room, quietly reading Country Life.
“Thank you, Leslie,” said Robin.
Leslie major looked at his classical pedagogue with an inscrutable face which somehow managed to combine innocence with the impression of a very knowing wink.
“This might interest you, sir,” he said, showing Robin a photograph of an animal like a huge petrol tin on four sturdy legs with a heavily curled fringe. “It’s uncle Martin’s Rushwater Rambler. He got all the prizes at the Barchester Agricultural Show last year and he is going up to the Bath and West of England as soon as they get going again. Do you like bulls, sir?”
“I really don’t know them well,” said Robin, “and I feel that they would despise me. But I would be pleased to make Rushwater Rambler’s further acquaintance.”
“Uncle Martin would be awfully pleased if you’d come to Rushwater, sir,” said Leslie major. “I think he gets a bit lonely without anyone to talk to about the war.”
Then the Birketts and the Carters came in and Simnet announced supper.
The meal was not so cheerful as usual, for both the Birketts were a little depressed by having seen so little of Rose. Everyone was sorry for them and Kate Carter particularly exerted herself to keep their spirits up by saying how nice the sports had been and how nice it had been to see so many old boys; an unfortunate remark, as both the Headmaster and his Senior Housemaster were reminded of all the old boys that could not come back, and Mrs. Birkett too thought how many South-bridgians there were who would never call her Ma Birky again.
“We ought to have an interesting election in Barchester, sir,” said Robin Dale, desperately attempting to help matters. “They seem to expect a heavy poll.”
“The Labour people will vote all right,” said Mr. Birkett. “Whether our people will is another question. We have had it too much our way and got lazy. I wouldn’t give much for Fielding’s chances with that man Adams up against him.”
Robin said he wasn’t a bad sort; which defence of the Labour candidate made Mr. Birkett quite angry, and Mrs. Birkett threw a grateful glance at Robin for having roused her husband.
“How violent Philip would have been about it all,” said Everard Carter to the Headmaster. “Do you remember what an out-and-out Red he was the year he and Rose were engaged? He talked Russia in my House till we nearly died of boredom. And now he is a fine old crusted Tory.”
The mention of Rose unfortunately sent Mr. Birkett into a fresh fit of depression and Kate looked reproachfully at her husband and said there were going to be some good symphony concerts at the Barchester Town Hall next autumn, some of classical music, some entirely modern.
Robin said not too modern, he hoped, because he felt rather old and conservative at present.
Kate said she thought not what
one would call really modern. For instance Holst’s Planets, and when a person was dead you couldn’t really call them modern. This reasoning appeared to some of her hearers to have a flaw in it, but no one felt equal to raising the question.
“Mr. Dale has some splendid records of the Planets, sir,” said Leslie major addressing Everard Carter. “The one of Uraynus is particularly good.”
Robin could hardly believe his ears and would have liked to kill his pupil and then get under the table. Everard Carter, who rarely showed his deeper feelings, raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. It seemed to the two masters that Mr. Birkett in his paternal depression has not noticed this horrible barbarism and they secretly thanked their and Leslie major’s lucky stars. But the habits of a lifetime are not lightly shed. After a couple of seconds Mr. Birkett’s brain registered Leslie major’s remark. He raised his eyebrows, looked over his spectacles at Robin’s pupil and begged him, far too politely, to repeat what he had just said.
“Uraynus, sir,” said Leslie major in a clear, cheerful voice. “I wouldn’t have said it, sir, but that is how Miss Banks pronounces it, and as she is awfully keen on modern methods I thought perhaps Mr. Dale had taught us all wrong.”
There was a moment’s terrifying silence. All three masters were, to put it mildly, flabbergasted. Leslie major, the eminently respectworthy member of Edward Carter’s house in Everard’s own phrase, the apparently dull son of provedly dull parents, had perpetrated a piece of impertinence worthy, thought Everard, of the days when Swan and Morland devoted their far from despicable intelligence to pulling their superiors’ legs, and Swan had quietly driven Philip Winter to desperation by putting on the spectacles that he never put on for his lessons and looking at him through them. It was almost impossible for the Headmaster to make any comment without criticising Miss Banks, and though he did not much care for that lady and was going to have a serious talk with the head of the preparatory school about her, he could not encourage unfavourable criticism of the prep. school staff from boys in the upper school.
Peace Breaks Out Page 19
