“No, I am a humble person; I won’t share the dignity. Mine is the embroidered thing, Mother, not the petticoat. I don’t feel any ambition to adhere to this apparel, in spite of my claim to it.”
“Now I think that was such a good thought of Lady Haslam’s, to have some of the things embroidered,” said Mrs. Christy. “It shows a true sympathy with those less fortunate than ourselves, an understanding that they too may like a little touch of the beauty of life. There was something about the whole of her attitude with which I am so much in sympathy.”
“Poor Mother, you do cling to your illusions,” said her daughter.
“I direct that everything shall be embroidered,” said Rachel.
“Even the aprons?” said Geraldine, holding one up.
“Aren’t they always embroidered?” said Rachel. “How like Lady Haslam to right a wrong! Yes, they must all be done.”
“These for standing at the wash-tub especially!” said Kate.
“Yes,” said Rachel. “Washing is so hard on clothes.”
“Is this thing finished, Mater?” said Polly, throwing a garment to her stepmother.
“Yes, my dear, except for the embroidery.”
“I can’t embroider,” said Polly.
“But, my dear, you must. You are working for the poor.”
“The cutting out of things is more our problem than embroidering them,” said Agatha, adjusting her work.
“We must give that up, with Lady Haslam away,” said Rachel. “Things can’t be cut out now, only embroidered.”
“They won’t last us long on that basis,” said Geraldine.
“Won’t they last for ninety minutes?” said Rachel, looking at the clock.
“Are we not to have the working parties after to-day?” said Geraldine with eyebrows raised.
“We can’t, with Lady Haslam ill,” said Rachel.
“Of course not,” said Kate.
“How about the people who need the things?” said Geraldine.
“They can make shift without them,” said Camilla. “I have proved that it can be done.”
“Ought we to think of the poor as needing things?” said Rachel. “Isn’t that rather out of the spirit of embroidery?”
“I think this spirit of embroidery is a wrong one,” said Agatha, seeming to call up her courage to speak. “There is nothing questionable in making necessary things for those who find them necessary. It is our duty to go on working as steadily as if Lady Haslam were with us. She is only a single member of our society, and as its founder would not wish us or allow us to think of her as anything else.”
“Oh, don’t do what she would not allow,” said Rachel. “Whatever would be the good of my being here instead of her?”
“So we have to consider several things if we are to plan to continue,” said Agatha.
“But we are not to continue!” said Geraldine, keeping her mouth open after her words.
“Not in Lady Haslam’s house of course,” said Agatha. “Lady Hardisty has one sincere supporter in me there. It would not be suitable, or congenial to any of us. We must wait to use her house again until she is in it. But in the meantime we should continue our efforts for those who are dependent upon them. I don’t know if anyone will volunteer to hold the meetings? Of course there is the cutting out to be considered. Will anyone volunteer for one thing or both?”
“I think you and I are both too far away, Lady Hardisty,” said Mrs. Christy.
“I felt we were somehow prevented,” said Rachel.
“There are some of us nearer of course,” said Agatha.
“Do you not cut out yourself, Mrs. Calkin?” said one of the members. “I am sure I remember seeing you.”
“I have had to do so many things in my life, that I have not been able to do quite without it. And anything that I can do, is at the service of the community of course. It goes without saying. But it is very likely that other people have had more experience.”
“Surely it is not,” said Rachel, “if you have not been able to do without it. Most people have definitely less in their lives. And if what you can do is at the service of the community, if that really goes without saying — it is the only instance of it I have met — surely the community had better behave naturally about it. Its going without saying will save them from embarrassing obligation. I wish services always went in that way.”
“Well, we will see what other people say,” said Agatha, with folded hands and an air of by no means hurrying the matter.
“We say we are most grateful,” someone said.
“You need not be that, you see,” said Rachel.
“You need not indeed,” said Agatha.
“It seems to be our duty to do it, as there are three of us,” said Geraldine.
“Qualities do run in families,” said Rachel.
“Don’t let there be three of us. Let us leave it all on Agatha,” said Kate.
“You are a half-sister of course, my dear,” said Rachel.
“We shall have to be there,” said Geraldine almost absently.
“It is not at all necessary, if you do not wish to be,” said Agatha. “In taking something upon myself, I am not involving anyone else. That would be a most unreasonable thing. Well, shall we say then a week to-day at my house at the same time, and tea as usual after the two hours’ work? I don’t think we can better Lady Haslam’s custom.”
“Yes, we will say that,” said Rachel. “About myself, you know I can’t cut out, and I am sure you felt it right to discourage me about embroidery, so I had better just come to tea.”
“That will be very nice indeed, if we cannot have any more of you,” said Agatha, in a cordial tone.
“It will be better than wasting you over the work,” said Geraldine, going further. “Will Gregory come to tea as well?”
“I think perhaps he won’t, as his mother cannot,” said Rachel.
“I can quite understand that,” said Agatha. “I know how my son would feel, if he had to see my place empty, Gregory will prefer to come and see us when we are alone. That will be what he has been accustomed to. He made that habit quite by himself. I shall be doubly anxious to do what I can for him now. I always say he is my boy, when my own is away.”
“I wish I could be that, Mrs. Calkin,” said the rector of the parish, looking round appealingly before he relinquished his hat to a willing hand. “I know you will say I am too old, and that you want Gregory for a boy and not me. And I am left to wish I could be a boy to someone.”
“You are in too responsible a position,” said Agatha.
“I wish that were true,” said Bellamy, taking his cup, and a moment after giving a bright smile to the donor. “I would not mind not being a boy, if I could have a man’s compensations. But a parson goes to a wedding and marries somebody else! He won’t even be able to bury himself, though burying is his profession. He goes to a working party and does not do any work! He drinks the tea that somebody else has made.” He held out his cup with another smile to a hand prepared to replenish it. “Well, I know what I shall do. I shall learn to sew.”
“To cut out?” cried Geraldine.
“To cut out and to buttonhole and to featherstitch. That will be real work, and help to qualify me as a human being.”
He turned from the hilarity that the idea of his sharing these human occupations produced in those engaged in them, and began to talk to Kate, whom he was inclined to make a friend.
“A clergyman is a clown, Miss Kate, and a deal less respectable a clown than one on the stage. That clown amuses people as a life work, and what more useful work could there be? A parson amuses people because he is a man among women. A man among men and a woman among women are natural. No one who thinks that women do not like being with women has any knowledge of life; and no one does think that a man does not like being with men. And a woman among men has pathos and human interest. But a man among women is simply — oh yes, I know I am this — the thread that goes through their lives. I would much rather be an ordinary man than a thread. A thread is such a good word for me.”