“Six,” said Miss Campanula very firmly. “Five characters won’t do, Eleanor. We’ve three ladies and three men. And if the rector — ”
“No,” said the rector, “I shall not appear. If there’s any help I can give behind the scenes, I shall be only too delighted, but I really don’t want to appear.”
“Three ladies and three men, then,” said Miss Campanula. “Six.”
“Certainly no more,” said Miss Prentice.
“Well,” said the squire, “if Mrs. Ross is very good at acting, and I must say she’s an uncommonly attractive little thing — ”
“No, Jocelyn,” said Miss Prentice.
“She is very attractive,” said Henry.
“She’s got a good figure,” said Dinah. “Has she had any experience?”
“My dear child,” said Miss Campanula loudly, “she’s as common as dirt and we certainly don’t want her. I may say that I myself have seen Eleanor’s plays and I fully approve of Simple Susan. There are six characters: three men and three ladies. There is no change of scene, and the theme is suitable.”
“It’s rather old,” said Dinah dubiously.
“My dear child,” repeated Miss Campanula, “if you think we’re going to do one of your modern questionable problem-plays you’re very greatly mistaken.”
“I think some of the modern pieces are really not quite suitable,” agreed Miss Prentice gently.
Henry and Dinah smiled.
“And as for Mrs. Selia Ross,” said Miss Campanula, “I believe in calling a spade a spade and I have no hesitation in saying I think we’ll be doing a Christian service to poor Mrs. Templett, who we all know is too much an invalid to look after herself, if we give Dr. Templett something to think about besides — ”
“Come,” said the rector desperately, “aren’t we jumping our fences before we meet them? We haven’t appointed a chairman yet and so far nobody has suggested that Mrs. Ross be asked to take part.”
“They’d better not,” said Miss Campanula.
The door was thrown open by Taylor, who announced:
“Mrs. Ross and Dr. Templett, sir.”
“What!” exclaimed the squire involuntarily.
An extremely well-dressed woman and a short rubicund man walked into the room.
“Hullo! Hullo!” shouted Dr. Templett. “I’ve brought Mrs. Ross along by sheer force. She’s a perfectly magnificent actress and I tell her she’s got to come off her high horse and show us all how to set about it. I know you’ll be delighted.”
CHAPTER TWO
Six Parts and Seven Actors
i
It was Henry who rescued the situation when it was on the verge of becoming a scene. Neither Miss Campanula nor Miss Prentice made the slightest attempt at cordiality. The squire uttered incoherent noises, shouted “What!” and broke out into uncomfortable social laughter. Dinah greeted Mrs. Ross with nervous civility. The rector blinked and followed his daughter’s example. But on Henry the presence of Dinah acted like a particularly strong stimulant and filled him with a vague desire to be nice to the entire population of the world. He shook Mrs. Ross warmly by the hand, complimented Dr. Templett on his idea, and suggested, with a beaming smile, that they should at once elect a chairman and decide on a play.
The squire, Dinah, and the rector confusedly supported Henry. Miss Campanula gave a ringing sniff. Miss Prentice, smiling a little more widely than usual, said:
“I’m afraid we are short of one chair. We expected to be only seven. Henry dear, you will have to get one from the dining-room. I’m so sorry to bother you.”
“I’ll share Dinah’s chair,” said Henry happily.
“Please don’t get one for me,” said Mrs. Ross. “Billy can perch on my arm.”
She settled herself composedly in a chair on the rector’s left and Dr. Templett at once sat on the arm. Miss Prentice had already made sure of her place on the rector’s right hand and Miss Campanula, defeated, uttered a short laugh and marched to the far end of the table.
“I don’t know whether this is where I am bidden, Eleanor,” she said, “but the meeting seems to be delightfully informal, so this is where I shall sit. Ha!”
Henry, his father, and Dinah took the remaining chairs.
From the old chandelier a strong light was cast down on the eight faces round the table; on the squire, pink with embarrassment; on Miss Prentice, smiling; on Miss Campanula, like an angry mare, breathing hard through her nostrils; on Henry’s dark Jernigham features; on Dinah’s crisp and vivid beauty; on the rector’s coin-sharp priestliness and on Dr. Templett’s hearty undistinguished normality. It shone on Selia Ross. She was a straw-coloured woman of perhaps thirty-eight. She was not beautiful but she was exquisitely neat. Her hair curved back from her forehead in pale waves. The thick white skin of her face was beautifully made-up and her clothes were admirable. There was a kind of sharpness about her so that she nearly looked haggard. Her eyes were pale and you would have guessed that the lashes were white when left to themselves. Almost every human being bears some sort of resemblance to an animal and Mrs. Ross was a little like a ferret. But for all that she had a quality that arrested the attention of many women and most men. She had a trick of widening her eyes, and looking slantways. Though she gave the impression of fineness she was in reality so determined that any sensibilities she possessed were held in the vice of her will. She was a coarse-grained woman but she seemed fragile. Her manner was gay and good-natured, but though she went out of her way to do kindnesses, her tongue was quietly malicious. It was clear to all women who met her that her chief interest was men. Dinah watched her now and could not help admiring the cool assurance with which she met her frigid reception. It was impossible to guess whether Mrs. Ross was determined not to show her hurts or was merely so insensitive that she felt none. “She has got a cheek,” thought Dinah. She looked at Henry and saw her own thoughts reflected in his face. Henry’s rather startlingly fierce eyes were fixed on Mrs. Ross and in them Dinah read both awareness and appraisal. He turned his head, met Dinah’s glance, and at once his expression changed into one of such vivid tenderness that her heart turned over. She was drowned in a wave of emotion and was brought back to the world by the sound of Miss Prentice’s voice.
“——to elect a chairman for our little meeting. I should like to propose the rector.”
“Second that,” said Miss Campanula, in her deepest voice.
“There you are, Copeland,” said the squire, “everybody says ‘Aye’ and away we go.” He laughed loudly and cast a terrified glance at his cousin.
The rector looked amiably round the table. With the exception of Henry, of all the company he seemed the least embarrassed by the arrival of Mrs. Ross. If Mr. Copeland had been given a round gentle face with unremarkable features and kind shortsighted eyes it would have been a perfect expression of his temperament. But ironical nature had made him magnificently with a head so beautiful that to most observers it seemed that his character must also be on a grand scale. With that head he might have gone far and become an important dignitary of the church, but he was unambitious and sincere, and he loved Pen Cuckoo. He was quite content to live at the rectory as his forebears had lived, to deal with parish affairs, to give what spiritual and bodily comfort he could to his people, and to fend off the advances of Idris Campanula and Eleanor Prentice. He knew very well that both these ladies bitterly resented the presence of Mrs. Ross, and that he was in for one of those hideously boring situations when he felt exactly as if he was holding down with his thumb the cork of a bottle filled with seething ginger-pop.