LITMIR.BIZ

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Ross thought, ‘So far so good. I’ve got here. I can manage the squire easily enough, but he’s got his eye on me already. The boy’s in love with the girl, but he’s a man and I think he’ll be generous. He’s no fool, though, and I rather fancy he’s summed me up. Attractive, with those light grey eyes and black lashes. It might be amusing to take him from her. I doubt if I could. He’s past the age when they fall for women a good deal older than themselves. I feel equal to the whole of them. It was fun coming in with Billy and seeing those two frost-bitten old virgins with their eyes popping out of their heads. They know I’m too much for them with my good common streak of hard sense and determination. They’re both trying to see if Billy’s arm is touching my shoulders. The Campanula is staring quite openly and the Poor Relation’s looking out of the corner of her eyes. I’ll lean back a little. There! Now have a good look. It’s a bore about Billy’s professional reputation and having to be so careful. I want like hell to show them he’s all mine. I’ve never felt like this about any other man, never. It’s as if we’d engulfed each other. I suppose it’s love. I won’t have him in their bogus school-room play without me. He might have a love scene with the girl. I couldn’t stand that. Seven people and six parts. Now, then!’

      And Idris Campanula thought, ‘If I could in decency lay my hands on that straw-coloured wanton I’d shake the very life out of her. The infamous brazen effrontery! To force her way into Pen Cuckoo, without an invitation, under the protection of that man! I always suspected Dr Templett of that sort of thing. If Eleanor had the gumption of a rabbit she’d have forbidden them the house. Sitting on the arm of her chair! A fine excuse! He’s practically got his arm round her. I’ll look straight at them and let her see what I think of her. There! She’s smiling. She knows, and she doesn’t care. It amounts to lying in open sin with him. The rector can’t let it pass. It’s an open insult to me, making me sit at the same table with them. Every hand against me. I’ve no friends. They only want my money. Eleanor’s as bad as the rest. She’s tried to poison the rector’s mind against me. She’s jealous of me. The play was my idea and now she’s talking as if it was hers. The rector must be warned. I’ll ask him to hear my confession on Friday. I’ll confess the unkind thoughts I’ve had of Eleanor Prentice and before he can stop me I’ll tell him what they were and then perhaps he’ll begin to see through Eleanor. Then I’ll say I’ve been uncharitable about Mrs Ross and Dr Templett. I’ll say I’m an outspoken woman and believe in looking facts in the face. He must prefer me to Eleanor. I ought to have married. With my ability and my money and my brains I’d make a success of it. I’d do the Rectory up and get rid of that impertinent old maid. Dinah could go back to the stage as soon as she liked, or if Eleanor’s gossip is true, she could marry Henry Jernigham. Eleanor wouldn’t care much for that. She’ll fight tooth and nail before she sees another chatelaine at Pen Cuckoo. I’ll back Eleanor up as far as Dr Templett and his common little light-of-love are concerned, but if she tries to come between me and Walter Copeland she’ll regret it. Now then, I’ll speak.’

      And bringing her large, ugly hand down sharply on the table she said:

      ‘May I have a word?’

      ‘Please do,’ said Mr Copeland nervously.

      ‘As secretary,’ began Miss Campanula loudly, ‘I have discussed this matter with the YPFC members individually. They plan an entertainment of their own later on in the year and they are most anxious that this little affair should be arranged entirely by ourselves. Just five or six, they said, of the people who are really interested in the Circle. They mentioned you, of course, rector, and the squire, as patron, and you, Eleanor, naturally, as president. They said they hoped Dinah would not feel that our humble efforts were beneath her dignity and that she would grace our little performance. And you, Henry, they particularly mentioned you.’

      ‘Thank you,’ said Henry solemnly. Miss Campanula darted a suspicious glance at him and went on:

      ‘They seem to think they’d like to see me making an exhibition of myself with all the rest of you. Of course, I don’t pretend to histrionic talent –’

      ‘Of course you must have a part, Idris,’ said Miss Prentice. ‘We depend upon you.’

      ‘Thank you, Eleanor,’ said Miss Campanula; and between the two ladies there flashed the signal of an alliance.

      ‘That makes five, doesn’t it?’ asked Miss Prentice sweetly.

      ‘Five,’ said Miss Campanula.

      ‘Six, with Dr Templett,’ said Henry.

      ‘We should be very glad to have Dr Templett,’ rejoined Miss Prentice, with so cunningly balanced an inflection that her rejection of Mrs Ross was implicit in every syllable.

      ‘Well, a GP’s an awkward sort of fellow when it comes to rehearsals,’ said Dr Templett. ‘Never know when an urgent case may crop up. Still, if you don’t mind risking it I’d like to take part.’

      ‘We’ll certainly risk it,’ said the rector. There was a murmur of assent followed by a deadly little silence. The rector drew in his breath, looked at his daughter who gave him a heartening nod, and said:

      ‘Now, before we go any further with the number of performers, I think we should decide on the form of the entertainment. If it is going to be a play, so much will depend upon the piece chosen. Has anybody any suggestion?’

      ‘I move,’ said Miss Campanula, ‘that we do a play, and I suggest Simple Susan as a suitable piece.’

      ‘I should like to second that,’ said Miss Prentice.

      ‘What sort of play is it?’ asked Dr Templett. ‘I haven’t heard of it. Is it new?’

      ‘It’s a contemporary of East Lynne and The Silver King I should think,’ said Dinah.

      Henry and Dr Templett laughed. Miss Campanula thrust out her bosom, turned scarlet in the face, and said:

      ‘In my humble opinion, Dinah, it is none the worse for that.’

      ‘It’s so amusing,’ said Miss Prentice. ‘You remember it, Jocelyn, don’t you? There’s that little bit where Lord Sylvester pretends to be his own tailor and proposes to Lady Maude, thinking she’s her own lady’s maid. Such an original notion and so ludicrous.’

      ‘It has thrown generations of audiences into convulsions,’ agreed Henry.

      ‘Henry,’ said the squire.

      ‘Sorry, Father. But honestly, as a dramatic device –’

      ‘Simple Susan,’ said Miss Campanula hotly, ‘may be old-fashioned in the sense that it contains no disgusting innuendos. It does not depend on vulgarity for its fun, and that’s more than can be said for most of your modern comedies.’

      ‘How far does Lord Sylvester go –’ began Dinah.

      ‘Dinah!’ said the rector quietly.

      ‘All right, Daddy. Sorry. I only –’

      ‘How old is Lord Sylvester?’ interrupted the squire suddenly.

      ‘Oh, about forty-five or fifty,’ murmured Miss Prentice.

      ‘Why not do The Private Secretary?’ inquired Henry.

      ‘I never thought The Private Secretary was a very nice play,’ said Miss Prentice. ‘I expect I’m prejudiced.’ And she gave the rector a reverent smile.

      ‘I agree,’ said Miss Campanula. ‘I always thought it in the worst of taste. I may be old fashioned but I don’t like jokes about the cloth.’

      ‘I don’t think The Private Secretary ever did us much harm,’ said the rector mildly. ‘But aren’t we wandering from the point? Miss Campanula has moved that we do a play called Simple Susan. Miss Prentice has seconded her. Has anybody else a suggestion to make?’

      ‘Yes,’

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