The Simpkins Plot Page 7

  CHAPTER VII.

  Ballymoy House, save for the occasional presence of a fishing tenant,has been unoccupied for years. Two men are employed to keep thegrounds tidy, and Mr. Simpkins does his best to see that the work isdone. But in spite of his exertions the place is in a condition ofdisorder. There is long grass where there ought to be trim lawns; wildgrowths of brambles in nooks originally dedicated to rose gardening;and a general air of exuberance about the trees and shrubs. Miss Kingfound all this very charming. She took a walk round the pleasuregrounds on the evening of her arrival, and felt that she had happenedupon the Irish demesne of her dreams--a region of spaciousdilapidation, exquisite natural beauty, romantic possibilities, and aninexhaustible supply of local colour; a place very different indeedfrom the trim Thames-side villas in which she generally spent hersummer holidays. Her maid unpacked a large box of requisites for thecountry life supplied by the Stores, and came, at the bottom of it,upon a very gay hammock made of green and scarlet strings. Miss Kingwas delighted with its appearance, and the promise it gave of luxuriousrest. After breakfast next morning she summoned the two gardeners toher presence, and gave orders that the hammock should be securely hungin a shady place. The men were unaccustomed to hammocks, but with thehelp of some advice from the maid, they tied it to two trees in acorner of what had once been a tennis court. They were so pleased withit that they stood looking at it with great appreciation until MissKing came out at about twelve o'clock. She brought with her a bundleof manuscript and a fountain pen, intending to work into her new novela description of Ballymoy House and the demesne.

  The men watched her settle herself, and then came forward cautiouslyand asked if there was anything they could do for her. Miss Kingsuggested that they should go away and do their work. They wentobediently, but returned in a few minutes with two scythes.

  "If it's pleasing to your ladyship," said the elder of the two, "I wasthinking of cutting the grass beyond, while the weather's fine, andwe'd have a chance of getting the hay saved without rain."

  Miss King was not very well pleased. She would have preferred to beleft alone, in order that she might enjoy thoroughly the picturesquedilapidation she wished to describe. But she did not see her way toforbid the cutting of the grass. The two men sharpened their scythesnoisily and mowed down several swathes of long grass. Miss Kingwatched them, mildly interested. At the end of five minutes theystopped mowing and whetted their scythes again. Then they sat down,lit their pipes, and looked at Miss King. She busied herself with herpapers, and made some corrections with the fountain pen. When theirpipes were about half smoked, the men rose, whetted their scythes forthe third time, and mowed again. Miss King stopped writing and watchedthem. The day grew hotter, and the spells of mowing became shorter.Miss King gave up the attempt to write, and lay dreamily gazing at themen, roused to active consciousness now and then by the rasp of thehones against the scythe blades. At one o'clock the men, guessing itto be dinnertime, stopped pretending to work and went away. A fewminutes later Miss King, feeling the need of luncheon, disentangledherself from the hammock, bundled her papers together, and went intothe house.

  At two o'clock the men, carrying their scythes, returned to the tenniscourt, which was nearly half mowed. At half-past two Miss King joinedthem, and climbed as gracefully as she could into the hammock. Shebrought a book with her this time instead of her manuscript. Theafternoon was hotter than the morning had been, and there was a verysoothing sound of bees among the branches of the trees. Miss King, whohad eaten her luncheon with a good appetite, went to sleep. The twogardeners, after a short consultation, sat down under a tree andsmoked. At half-past three Meldon arrived.

  "You seem," he said to the men, "to be taking things pretty easy. Areyou supposed to be mowing that lawn, or is Mr. Simpkins paying you tocut the legs off any tiger or other wild beast that comes up with theidea of devouring Miss King in her sleep?"

  The men grinned pleasantly, and put their pipes in their pockets.

  "It's how we didn't like to be disturbing the young lady," said theelder of the two men, "and her lying there quiet and innocent, maybetired out, the creature, with the way she's been travelling to and fro."

  "Isn't it Callaghan your name is?" said Meldon.

  "It is. Glory be to God! but it's wonderful the way you'd know me, Mr.Meldon, and you out of the place these three years."

  "Send that other man away," said Meldon, "and listen to me while Ispeak to you."

  "Mickey," said Callaghan to his fellow-labourer, "let you be off withyou and get the potatoes earthed up beyond in the garden. It'swonderful, so it is, the way you'd take a delight in sitting there allday and not doing a hand's turn."

  Mickey went off, still grinning. He had no intention of earthing upthe potatoes. Digging is hard work, not to be lightly undertaken on ahot afternoon. Meldon watched him out of sight, and then turned toCallaghan.

  "I'm speaking confidentially to you," he said, "and I hope that nothingI say will--"

  "Take care," said Callaghan, "that you wouldn't wake herself, talkingso loud and all."

  Meldon looked at Miss King.

  "She seems pretty sound," he said, speaking more softly.

  "It's tired she is, the creature,", said Callaghan. "It would be ashame to wake her, though I wouldn't care myself for the notion ofsleeping in one of them new-fashioned beds."

  "What I want to say to you is this," said Meldon. "You know Mr.Simpkins, of course?"

  "I do."

  "Is he a particular friend of yours?"

  "He is not," said Callaghan. "The Lord forgive me for saying the like!but I hate him worse than I do the devil."

  "I thought you probably would," said Meldon, "and I don't wonder at it.Any man who works the sort of way you were working when I arrived wouldbe pretty sure to hate Simpkins."

  "Since ever he come to the place," said Callaghan, "there's beenneither peace nor quiet in it. There doesn't a day pass but he's uphere asking why this isn't done, and what's the matter with the otherthing, and whether I couldn't manage to settle up some contraption orother. Many's the time I've said to myself it would be better for meto starve out on the bog beyond than to have the life plagued out of melistening to the way he does be talking."

  "I expect," said Meldon, "that he's simply trying to make you do yourwork, and a hard job he has of it."

  "Any way, it's what I'm not accustomed to; and what's more, won'tstand."

  "You'll have to stand it for a while more, any way. That's what I wantto impress on your mind. I can't have a word said against Mr.Simpkins, in the presence of Miss King."

  "The young lady there?"

  "Yes, that exact young lady. She's a stranger in these parts, andyou're more or less responsible for the opinions she forms of thepeople she comes across. It's to you she'll be looking for guidancewhen she's in a difficulty and wants information about any one."

  "She will, of course. Why wouldn't she? Amn't I old enough to be herfather and the father of a dozen more like her?"

  "Exactly," said Meldon. "So when she consults you about Mr. Simpkinsyou'll say all the good you can of him, and you'll praise him up to theservants in the house in such a way that they'll repeat what you'vesaid to her."

  "Would you have me tell what isn't true?"

  "I would."

  "Well, then, I'll not do it. I've more respect for myself, let alonethe young lady, than to do the like."

  "Don't take that tone with me," said Meldon, "for I'll not stand it.There isn't a man in Ireland this minute that has a greater respect forthe truth than I have. It's a good thing--one of the best things thereis--in its proper place. But there's no bigger mistake than to supposethat because a thing is good in one place at one time, it mustnecessarily be good everywhere and always. Take the case of bottledporter. You're not a teetotaller, are you?"

  "I was one time," said Callaghan, "after the mission there did be goinground the country last spring. They had me pledged befo
re I rightlyunderstood what it was they were doing; but, thanks be to God, I'mthrough with it now, and can take a drop of drink as well as another."

  "Very well. Then you'll appreciate what I say about bottled porter.It's a good thing when you have it in a tumbler, and the tumbler inyour hand, and you thirsty."

  "It is." Callaghan spoke with conviction. He was thirsty at themoment, and he had some hope that Meldon might possibly have the bottleof which he spoke in his pocket. He was disappointed when Meldon wenton with his speech.

  "But it's not a good thing when somebody jogs your elbow and spills thewhole of it over the legs of your trousers. Now it's exactly the samewith truth. It's all right under certain circumstances. It's one ofthe worst things going when it's told to the wrong man at the wrongtime. You follow me so far, I hope. Very well. Now I want to make itplain to you that the truth about Mr. Simpkins must not be told to MissKing. I expect he'll be up to call on her tomorrow or next day, andit's most important that she should not be prejudiced against him."

  "Have you a match made up between them?" asked Callaghan.

  "I have."

  "And why couldn't you have said so before? If that's the way of it, itisn't likely I'd be saying a word that would turn her against the manthat's laid down for her to marry. There was a friend of my own onetime that had a match made up for his son with a girl that had a goodfortune. But there was only one leg on her, and he was terrible fearedthat the boy'd never take her if he found it out. There wasn't one inthe place, only myself, that knew the way the girl was on account ofher father living away beyond the bog. Do you think I said the word?I did not. And the boy was well enough pleased at the latter end."

  "In this particular case," said Meldon, "you'll have to do rather morethan keep your mouth shut. Simpkins' legs are all right, of course,but--"

  "He has the divil of a long tongue."

  "Well, don't dwell on his tongue when you're talking about him to MissKing."

  "Beyond saying an odd time that he's a pleasant-spoken gentleman, Iwill not."

  "That's right," said Meldon. "I shall rely absolutely on you. And youare to let me know from time to time how they get on together when hecomes up here to visit her."

  "If there's any impropriety of conduct between them," said Callaghan,"I'll speak to your reverence."

  "Don't misunderstand me," said Meldon. "I don't want to interfere withtheir love-making. The more of that they do, the better I'll bepleased. Even if they run rather into extremes--"

  "It's what I won't be a party to," said Callaghan; "I don't hold withthem ways, and the clergy is against them, all but yourself; and youought to be ashamed to be encouraging the like."

  "You don't in the least understand the situation," said Meldon. "Mr.Simpkins and Miss King are both English, and in England they managethese things quite differently from the way we do here."

  "Well, it's yourself ought to know about that, seeing that you're aProtestant."

  "It's not so much a question of religion," said Meldon. "It'stemperament. I don't suppose you understand what that means; but thefact is, that an Englishwoman wouldn't marry a man who hadn't beenmaking love to her off and on for at least a week. If he hadn't gother thoroughly accustomed to his occasionally squeezing her hand, andoffering to pick flowers for her, and picking up anything she droppedabout, and-- But I needn't go into details. The fact is, that if hehadn't made love to her pretty violently, she wouldn't consider itdecent to marry him. That's the sort of people the English are."

  "They're queer," said Callaghan, "and that's a fact."

  "They are," said Meldon. "But we've simply got to take them as we findthem. There's no use our trying to teach them better ways, for theywouldn't listen to us. I'm telling you all this so that you won't beshocked if you happen to see Simpkins kissing Miss King. It's noaffair of yours, to start with; and, in the second place, there's nopoint in comparative ethnology so firmly established as the fact thatmorality is quite a different thing among different peoples. Whatwould be wrong for you and me may be, and is, perfectly right for MissKing and Simpkins. I needn't go into that more fully. All you have todo is to crack up Simpkins as a first-rate sort of man that any girlwould be lucky if she married; and then let me know how they hit it offtogether when they meet."

  "I'll do it. I'd do more than that to oblige your reverence in thematter of making a match for any boy about the place; for I'm not oneto spoil his chances on a boy, not if I hated him worse than I doSimpkins."

  "Very well. Now I want to speak a few words to Miss King, but it won'tdo for me to wake her up. She wouldn't like it; and what's more, shemight suspect that we'd been talking together about her. I'll go backto the house and walk over here across the lawn. I'll signal to you assoon as I'm ready to start, and then you go over and wake Miss King."

  "I wouldn't like to do it. I'd be ashamed, for fear she might think Iwas taking a liberty."

  "I don't want you to go and shake her," said Meldon, "or pour coldwater over her, or anything of that sort. Just take your scythe overclose to where she is, and as soon as ever I give the signal, you beginto scrape the blade of it with your stone and whistle a tune at thesame time as loud as you can."

  "'The Wearing of the Green,' or the like?"

  "Not 'The Wearing of the Green.' It's a melancholy, soothing sort oftune which would probably only make her sleep sounder. Whistle a goodlively jig."

  "I will," said Callaghan.

  Meldon walked away. When he reached the house he stood on the top stepof the flight which leads to the hall door and waved his pockethandkerchief. Callaghan picked up his scythe cautiously, and went ontip-toe across to Miss King's hammock. He did not wish to disturb herprematurely. Then, his hone in one hand and his scythe in the other,he stood and watched Meldon, The handkerchief waved again, and Meldonstarted walking briskly across the lawn. The hone rasped harshlyagainst the scythe blade, and "The Irish Washerwoman" rang out shrilly.Miss King woke with a start. Callaghan turned away from her, and stillwhistling vigorously, began to mow. Meldon hurried forward.

  "How do you do, Miss King?" he said. "I happened to be passing thegate and I just called in to see how you are getting on, and to seewhether there is anything I can do for you."

  Miss King blinked, got her feet out of the hammock, sat up, and shookhands with Meldon.

  "It's very kind of you. Won't you come inside and have some tea, orshall I get them to bring it out here?"

  "No, thanks. No tea for me. I haven't time to stay; and besides, I'vehad luncheon with Mr. Doyle. You know what that means."

  "No," said Miss King. "I don't."

  "Well, I needn't go into details," said Meldon; "but as a matter offact when you've lunched with Mr. Doyle you don't want anything more todrink for a long time. By the way, you're not looking out for a cookjust at present, are you?"

  "No, I'm not. What made you think I was?"

  "People generally are," said Meldon. "In fact, I've hardly ever metany one who wasn't. I happen just now to know of a really excellentgirl, called Sabina. With a little training she'd make a first-ratecook. She's first cousin to the red-haired girl who's with Mr.Simpkins. That's a recommendation in itself."

  "Is it? Who is Mr. Simpkins? Oh, of course, he's the man from whom Itook the house."

  "A capital fellow," said Meldon; "young, strong, and vigorous. Thesort of man," he sank his voice impressively, "that it would take a lotto kill."

  Miss King seemed moderately interested.

  "But why do you think," she said, "that his servant's first cousin--"

  "Sabina is her name," said Meldon. "It's a very attractive name, isn'tit?"

  "Yes. But why do you think it likely that Mr. Simpkins' servant'sfirst cousin can cook?"

  "He's a most particular man," said Meldon; "fidgety to a degree abouthaving everything quite right, always worrying the life out of hisservants, which is excellent for them, of course; but, well, if he wasmarried"--he sank his
voice again--"I expect his wife would considerherself quite justified in killing him. I daresay he'll be up to callon you this afternoon."

  "If he's as bad as that," said Miss King, "I had better go in and tidymy hair before he comes."

  "Perhaps you had," said Meldon.

  "You're very rude," said Miss King.

  She smiled as she spoke, blushed slightly, and then looking at Meldonfrom under her eyelashes, said,--

  "Come now, tell me the truth. Am I an absolute fright?"

  Most men would have attempted a pretty speech of some sort. Many menwould have responded to Miss King's eyes with a glance of admiration.She had very fine eyes, and a singularly attractive way of looking outof the corners of them. Miss King was, in fact, a little tired of herown company, and would have liked to hear Meldon say something pleasantabout her appearance. She would have enjoyed herself very well if hehad attempted some slight flirtation with her. But he snubbed herseverely.

  "I told you yesterday," he said, "that I'm a married man. I have adaughter two years old, and I'm a clergyman. I really can't allowyou--"

  The soft look vanished in an instant from Miss King's eyes. Theyflashed fiercely. Her face became suddenly crimson.

  "You are outrageous," she said. "How dare you suggest--? How dare youeven think--?"

  She sprang to her feet and started at a rapid pace towards the house.Her head was poised defiantly. Meldon, though he could only see herback, felt certain that her chin was in the air. Callaghan, who hadretired with his scythe to the middle of the lawn, stopped mowing andstared after Miss King. Then he laid down his scythe and approachedMeldon.

  "Were you telling her," he asked, "of the match you had laid out forher?"

  "No," said Meldon, with a broad smile, "I wasn't."

  "From the look of her," said Callaghan, "I thought maybe you might."

  "Well, I wasn't. All I was trying to make plain to her was that shecouldn't marry me."

  "I'd say," said Callaghan, "that she seen that plain enough, however itwas that you put it to her."

  "I thought it better to make it quite clear at once," said Meldon."She was looking at me in a kind of way you'd hardly understand."

  "I might, then," said Callaghan, still grinning.

  "You would not," said Meldon. "You told me a moment ago that thepriests wouldn't let you!"

  "There's many a thing," said Callaghan, "that the clergy might notapprove of, but--"

  "Any how," said Meldon, "it was that kind of way she looked at me, andI thought it better to put a stop to it at once."

  "You're right there; and it's no more than what I'd expect of you."

  "I don't think you quite grasp my point yet," said Meldon. "In ageneral way I shouldn't mind her looking at me any way she liked. Imight have enjoyed it, if she'd done it well, as I expect she could.But under the existing circumstances I had to stop her; because, if shetook to looking at me like that, she'd look quite another way at Mr.Simpkins, and then he wouldn't be inclined to marry her."

  "You're dead set on that match," said Callaghan.

  "I am. It's most important that it should come off."

  "She's a fine girl," said Callaghan. "She's too good for the like ofSimpkins. He'll be tormenting her the way he does be tormentingeverybody about the place."

  "Believe you me," said Meldon, "she'll know how to manage him."

  "She might," said Callaghan. "By the looks of her, when she left youthis minute, I wouldn't say but she might."