Pageants -- Fiction; Villages -- England -- Fiction
Mary Lambert was franker. She had no work to do in London. There was
a possibility of her getting a job, in connection with the pageant,
which, even if unpaid would bring her name before the public. She
was also, though she only hinted at this, much more comfortable in
the Manor House than she had ever been anywhere in her life before,
and--this consideration weighs a little with all of us--it is very
convenient to be housed and fed free, especially when earning no
salary. A few clothes--she and Beth said this simultaneously--could be
sent for from London.
Jimmy had no hesitation about accepting the invitation. He, perhaps he
alone, took his uncle's polite assurance at its face value.
"You do want someone to look after you, Uncle Evie," he said, "and
that's a fact. I'm not saying anything against Hinton or Linker, not a
word. Both excellent fellows, no doubt. But they give me the impression
of being pretty sharp men of business. When I think of that tenner of
mine which Hinton trousered yesterday afternoon, and of what Linker's
little bill will probably be I tremble to think of the extent to which
the two of them will probably stick you."
Sir Evelyn smiled amiably at the suggestion that he needed a protector
and made a mild joke about his nephew's fitness for the part of tutor
to innocent old age.
"Besides," Jimmy went on, "I'm getting quite keen on this pageant of
yours and rather see myself in the part of captain of the lugger."
When it was settled that the whole party would remain at the Manor
House Jimmy suggested a drive over to Hailey Compton as a suitable
amusement for the day. Like most men over fifty Sir Evelyn dreaded
picnics and suggested that they should lunch comfortably at home
before starting. He was strongly opposed to Beth's suggestion that they
should ask Mrs. Eames for luncheon. But neither Beth nor Mary wanted
to spend the rest of the morning in the rock garden, and a compromise
was arranged. The party would take its own food, but eat it, along
with anything Mrs. Eames provided, in the vicarage. This, like most
compromises, combined the most objectionable features of both plans.
The food would be picnic food, cold, sandwichy and scrappy, which was
exactly what Sir Evelyn disliked. The company would be that of Mrs.
Eames, which he dreaded.
An hour and a half later Sir Evelyn's little car, this time driven
in masterful fashion by Jimmy, reached the long stretch of bare,
undulating land above Hailey Compton. The road, a narrow white belt,
stretched straight until it seemed to end abruptly on the very edge of
the cliff. The car sped on faster than that car had ever gone before.
Jimmy eyed the road in front of him suspiciously.
"Is there a way down," he said, "or do we stop here and take to
parachutes?"
"It's very steep," said Sir Evelyn. "Do be careful."
"Brakes all right?" said Jimmy without slowing down.
"I hope so. I trust so," said his uncle.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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