I fully expected a visit from Miss
Pettigrew in the course of the next day. I was
not disappointed. She arrived at three o’clock,
bringing the Canon with her. I was greatly impressed
by her appearance. She has bright eyes which
twinkled, and she holds her head very straight, pushed
well back on her shoulders so that a good deal of her
neck is visible below her chin. I felt at once
that she was the sort of woman who could do what she
liked at me. I attempted my only possible line
of defence.
“Aren’t you afraid of
influenza?” I said. “Is it wise ?
“I’m not in the least afraid,” said
Miss Pettigrew.
“Not for yourself, of course,”
I said. “But you might carry it back to
Miss Battersby. I’m horribly infectious
just now. Even the nurse washes herself in Condy’s
Fluid after being near me.”
“Miss Battersby must take her
chance like the rest of us. I’ve come to
talk about Lalage.”
“I told the Canon last night,”
I said, “that I’m not capable of dealing
with Lalage. I really am not. I know because
I’ve often tried.”
“Listen to me for a minute,”
said Miss Pettigrew. “We’ve got to
get Lalage out of this. I’m not given to
taking conventional views of things and I’m
the last woman in Ireland to want to make girls conform
to the standard of what’s called ladylikeness.
But Lalage has gone too far. The newspapers are
full of her and that’s not good for any girl.”
“I’m sure,” I said,
“that if you represent that view of the case
to Lalage ”
“We have. We spent two
hours with her last night and three hours this morning.
We didn’t produce the slightest effect.”
“Hilda cried,” said the Canon.
“After all,” I said, “that’s
something. I couldn’t have made Hilda cry.”
“Hilda doesn’t count,”
said Miss Pettigrew. “She’s a dear
girl but anybody could manage her. We didn’t
make Lalage cry.”
“No,” I said, “you
couldn’t, of course. In fact, I expect,
Lalage made you laugh.”
Miss Pettigrew smiled and then checked
herself. Amusement struggled with a certain grimness
for expression on her face. In the end she smiled
again.
“Lalage has always made me laugh,”
she said, “ever since she was quite a little
girl. That’s what makes it so difficult
to manage her.”
“Why try?” I said.
“Lord Thormanby has washed his hands of her.
So have I. The Canon wants to. Wouldn’t
it be simpler if you did too?”
“It would be much simpler,”
said Miss Pettigrew. “But I’m not
going to do it. I have a very strong affection
for Lalage.”
“We all have,” I said.
“No one, not even the Canon has a stronger affection
than I have; but I don’t see how that helps us
much. Something more is required. If sincere
affection would have saved Lalage from the equivocal
position in which she now is ”
Miss Pettigrew looked at me in a curious
way which made me feel hot and very uncomfortable
even before I imderstood what she was thinking about.
Her eyes twinkled most brilliantly. The smile
which had hovered about her lips before broadened.
I recollected what the Canon told me the night before.
Miss Pettigrew had suggested marriage for Lalage.
I had at once thought of Vittie. Miss Pettigrew
was not thinking of Vittie. I felt myself getting
red in the face as she looked at me.
“I couldn’t,” I
said at last. “This influenza has completely
unstrung me. I shouldn’t have the nerve.
You must admit, Miss Pettigrew, that it would require
nerve.”
“I’m not suggesting your
doing it to-day,” said Miss Pettigrew.
“Nor any other day,” I
said. “I shouldn’t be able to screw
myself up to the pitch. I’m not that kind
of man at all. What you want is some one more
of the Young Lochinvar type, or a buccaneer. They’re
all dashing men who shrink from nothing. Why
not advertise for a buccaneer?”
“I don’t suppose she’d
marry you if you did ask her,” said Miss Pettigrew.
“I am sure she wouldn’t,
so we needn’t go on talking about that.
Won’t you let me ring and get you a cup of tea?
They make quite good tea in this hotel!”
“It’s too early for tea,
and I want to discuss this business of Lalage’s
seriously. The position has become quite impossible.”
“It’s been that for more
than a week but it still goes on. That’s
the worst of impossible positions. Nobody can
ever stop them. Titherington said it was impossible
the day before he got influenza. You don’t
know Titherington, nor does the Canon. But if
you did you’d realize that he’s not the
kind of man to let an impossible position alone and
yet he was baffled. I had letters yesterday morning
from Vittie and O’Don-oghue asking me to cooperate
with them in suppressing Lalage They see that the
position is impossible just as plainly as you do.
But they can’t do anything. In fact they’ve
gone to bed.”
“I’m not going to bed,”
said Miss Pettigrew. “I’m going to
bring Lalage home with me.”
“How?”
“I rather hoped,” said
Miss Pettigrew, “that you might have some suggestion
that would help us.”
“I made my only suggestion to
Titherington a week ago and it didn’t come off.
There’s no use my making it again!”
“What was it? Perhaps I could work it out.”
“It wasn’t much of a suggestion really.
It was only Hilda’s mother.”
“I’ve wired to her and
she’ll be here to-morrow. I’ve no
doubt that she’ll carry off Hilda, but she has
no authority over Lalage.”
“Nobody has,” said the Canon despondingly.
“I’ve said that all along.”
“What about the Provost of Trinity
College?” I said. “He tackled her
over the bishops. You might try him.”
“He won’t interfere,” said the Canon.
“I asked him.”
“Well,” I said, “I
can do no more. You can see for yourself, Miss
Pettigrew, that I’m not in a state to make suggestions.
I’m completely exhausted already and any further
mental exertion will bring on a relapse. Do let
me ring for tea. I want it myself.”
The door opened as I spoke. I
hoped that my nurse or McMeekin had arrived and would
insist on my being left in peace. I was surprised
and, in spite of my exhaustion, pleased to see Lalage
and Hilda walk in.
“Father,” said Lalage,
“why didn’t you tell me last night that
the bishop is dead?”
“I didn’t think it would interest you,”
said the Canon.
“Of course it interests me.
When poor old Pussy mentioned it to me just now I
simply hopped out of my shoes with excitement and delight.
So did Hilda.”
“Did you hate the bishop that
much?” I asked. “Worse than other
bishops?”
“Not at all,” said Lalage.
“I never saw him except once and then I thought
he was quite a lamb.”
“Hilda,” I said, “why
did you hop out of your shoes with excitement and
delight when you heard of the death of an old gentleman
who never did you any harm?”
“We’ll have to elect another, won’t
we?” said Lalage.
A horrible dread turned me quite cold.
I glanced at Miss Pettigrew. Her eyes had stopped
twinkling. I read fear, actual fear, in the expression
of her face. We both shrank from saying anything
which might lead to the confirming of our worst anticipations.
It was the Canon who spoke next. What he said
showed that he was nearly desperate.
“Lalage,” he said, “will
you come with me for a tour to Brazil? I’ve
booked one berth and I can easily get another!”
“I can’t possibly go to
Brazil,” said Lalage, “and you certainly
ought not to think of it till the bishopric election
is over.”
“I’ll take Hilda, too,”
said the Canon. “I should like to have Hilda.
You and she would have great fun together.
“I’ll give Selby-Harrison
a present of his ticket,” I added, “and
pay his hotel expenses. It would be a delightful
trip.”
“Brazil,” said Miss Pettigrew,
“is one of the most interesting countries in
the world. I can lend you a book on the natural
history.”
“Hilda’s mother wouldn’t
let her go,” said Lalage. “Would she,
Hilda?”
“I’m afraid not,”
said Hilda. “She thinks I ought to be more
at home.”
“Miss Pettigrew will talk her
over,” I said. “It’s a great
chance for Hilda. She oughtn’t to miss
it.”
“And Selby-Harrison has just
entered the Divinity School,” said Lalage.
“He couldn’t possibly afford the time.”
“The long days on the steamer,”
I said, “would be perfectly invaluable to him.
He could read theology from morning to night.
There’d be nothing, except an occasional albatross,
to distract his attention.”
“Those South American republics,”
said Miss Pettigrew, “are continually having
revolutions.”
Miss Pettigrew is certainly a very
clever woman. Her suggestion was the first thing
which caused Lalage to waver. A revolution must
be very attractive to a girl of her temperament; and
revolutions are comparatively rare on this side of
the Atlantic. Lalage certainly hesitated.
“What do you think, Hilda?” she asked.
For one moment I dared to hope.
“There’s been a lot of
gun-running done out there lately,” I said, “and
I heard of a new submarine on the Amazon.”
I am afraid I overdid it. Miss Pettigrew certainly
frowned at me.
“Mother would never let me,” said Hilda.
I had forgotten Hilda’s mother
for the moment. I saw at once that the idea of
gun-running would frighten her and she would not like
to think of her daughter ploughing the bottom of the
Amazon in a submarine.
“Besides,” said Lalage,
“it wouldn’t be right. It’s
our duty, our plain duty, to see this bishopric election
through. I’m inclined to think that the
Archdeacon is the proper man.”
“When do you start for the scene of action?”
I asked.
“At once,” said Lalage.
“There’s a train at six o’clock this
evening. We left poor Pussy packing her bag and
ran round to tell Miss Pettigrew about the change
in our plans. I’m dead sick of this old
election of yours, anyhow. Aren’t you?”
“I am,” I said fervently.
“I’m so sick of it that I don’t care
if I never stand for Parliament again. By the
way, Lalage, now that you’re turning your attention
to church affairs wouldn’t it be as well to
change the name of the society again. You might
call it the Episcopal Election Association. E.
E. A. would look well at the head of your notepaper
and might be worked up into a monogram.”
“I daresay we shall make a change,”
said Lalage, “but if we do we’ll be a
guild, not a society or an association. Guild
is the proper word for anything connected with the
church, or high-class furniture, or art needlework.
Selby-Harrison will look into the matter for us.
But in any case it will be all right about you.
You’ll still be a life member. Come along,
Hilda. We have a lot of people to see before we
start. I have to give out badges to about fifty
new members.”
“Will that be necessary now?” I asked.
“Of course. If anything, more.”
“But if you’re changing the name of the
society?”
“That won’t matter in
the least. Do come on, Hilda. We shan’t
have time if you dawdle on here. In any case
Pussy will have to pack our clothes for us.”
They swept out of the room. Miss
Pettigrew got up and shut the door after them.
The Canon was too much upset to move.
“I congratulate you, Miss Pettigrew,”
I said. “You’ve succeeded after all
in getting Lalage out of this. I hardly thought
you would.”
“This,” said the Canon, “is worse,
infinitely worse.”
“I’m not quite sure,”
said Miss Pettigrew, “about the procedure in
these cases. Who elects bishops?”
“The Diocesan Synod,” I said. “Isn’t
that right, Canon?”
“Yes,” he said, gloomily.
“And who constitutes the Diocesan Synod?”
said Miss Pettigrew.
“A lot of parsons,” I
said. “All the parsons there are, and some
dear old country gentlemen of blameless lives.
Just the people really to appreciate Lalage.”
“We shall have more trouble,” said Miss
Pettigrew.
“Plenty,” I said.
“And Thormanby will be in the thick of it.
He won’t find it so easy to wash his hands this
time.”
“Nor will you,” said Miss Pettigrew smiling,
but I think maliciously.
“I shall simply stay here,” I said, “and
go on having influenza.”
I have so much respect for Miss Pettigrew
that I do not like to say she grinned at me but she
certainly employed a smile which an enemy might have
described as a grin.
“The election here,” she
said, “your election takes place, as I understand,
early next week. Your mother will expect you home
after that.”
“Mothers are often disappointed,”
I said. “Look at Hilda’s, for instance.
And in any case my mother is a reasonable woman.
She’ll respect a doctor’s certificate,
and McMeekin will give me that if I ask him.”
The Canon had evidently not been attending
to what Miss Pettigrew and I were saying to one another.
He broke in rather abruptly:
“Is there any other place more attractive than
Brazil?”
He was thinking of Lalage, not of
himself. I do not think he cared much where he
went so long as he got far from Ireland.
“There are, I believe,”
I said, “still a few cannibal tribes left in
the interior of Bornéo. There are certainly head
hunters there.”
“Dyaks,” said Miss Pettigrew.
“I might try her with them,” said the
Canon.
“If Miss Pettigrew,” I
suggested, “will manage Hilda’s mother,
the thing might possibly be arranged. Selby-Harrison
could practise being a missionary.”
“I shouldn’t like Hilda to be eaten,”
said Miss Pettigrew.
“There’s no fear of that,”
I said. “Lalage is well able to protect
her from any cannibal.”
“I’ll make the offer,”
said the Canon. “Anything would be better
than having Lalage attempting to make speeches at
the Diocesan Synod.”
Miss Pettigrew had her packing to
do and left shortly afterward. The Canon, who
seemed to be really depressed, sat on with me and made
plans for Lalage’s immediate future. From
time to time, after I exposed the hollow mockery of
each plan, he complained of the tyranny of circumstance.
“If only the bishop hadn’t died,”
he said.
The dregs of the influenza were still
hanging about me. I lost my temper with the Canon
in the end.
“If only,” I said, “you’d
brought up Lalage properly.”
“I tried governesses,” he said, “and
I tried school.”
“The only thing you did not
try,” I said, “was what the Archdeacon
recommended, a firm hand.”
“The Archdeacon never married,”
said the Canon. “I’m often sorry he
didn’t. He wouldn’t say things like
that if he had a child of his own.”