Free The Nine Tailors by Dorothy L. Sayers Page A

to them than the Church seasons, but it’s natural. It was much worse when we came here—before you were born or thought of, you know. They actually used to drive spikes into the pillars to hold up wreaths of evergreens. Quite wicked. Just thoughtlessness, of course. And at Christmas they had horrible texts all across the screens and along that abominable old gallery—done in cotton-wool on red flannel. Disgusting, dirty old things. We found a great bundle of them in the vestry when we came here, full of moths and mice. The Rector put his foot down about that. ”
    “And I suppose half the people went over to the Chapel.”
    “No, dear—only two families, and one of them has come back since—the Wallaces, you know, because they had some sort of dispute with the Minister about their Good Friday beanfeast. Something to do with the tea-urns, but I forget what. Mrs. Wallace is a funny woman; she takes offence rather easily, but so far—touch wood”—(Mrs. Venables performed this ancient pagan rite placidly on the oak of the screen)—“so far, I’ve managed to work in quite smoothly with her over the Women’s Institute. I wonder if you’d just step back a little way and tell me if these two sides match.”
    “You want a few more daffs on the decani side, Mrs. Venables.”
    “Here? Thank you, dear. Is that better? Well, I think it will have to do. Oo-oh! my poor old bones! Yes, it’ll pass in a crowd with a push, as they say. Oh, here’s Hinkins with the aspidistras. People may say what they like about aspidistras, but they do go on all the year round and make a background. That’s right, Hinkins. Six in front of this tomb and six the other side—and have you brought those big pickle-jars? They’ll do splendidly for the narcissi, and the aspidistras will hide the jars and we can put some ivy in front of the pots. Hinkins, you might fill up my watering-can. How is your father to-day, Hilary? Better, I hope.”
    “I’m afraid he isn’t any better, Mrs. Venables. Doctor Baines is very much afraid he won’t get over it. Poor old Dad!”
    “Oh, my dear! I’m terribly sorry. This has been a dreadful time for you. I’m afraid the shock of your dear mother’s death coming so suddenly was too much for him.”
    The girl nodded.
    “We’ll hope and pray it isn’t as bad as the doctor thinks. Dr. Baines always takes a pessimistic view of everything. I expect that’s why he’s only a country practitioner, because I think he’s really very clever; but patients do like a doctor to be cheerful. Why don’t you get a second opinion?”
    “We’re going to. There’s a man called Hordell coming down on Tuesday. Dr. Baines tried to get him to-day, but he’s away for Easter.”
    “Doctors oughtn’t to go away,” said Mrs. Venables, rather uncharitably. The Rector never took holidays at the greater festivals, and scarcely ever at any other time, and she could not quite see that there was any necessity for the rest of the world to do so.
    Hilary Thorpe laughed rather ruefully.
    “I feel a little like that myself. But he’s supposed to be the very best man there is, and we’re hoping that a couple of days won’t make all that difference.”
    “Good gracious, no, I hope not,” said the Rector’s wife. “Is that Johnson with the arums? Oh, no, it’s Jack Godfrey. I expect he’s going up to grease the bells.”
    “Is he? I’d like to watch him. May I go up to the belfry, Mrs. Venables?”
    “I’m sure you may, my dear. But do be careful. I never think those great high ladders are really safe.”
    “Oh, I’m not afraid of them. I love looking at the bells.”
    Hilary hastened down the church and caught Jack Godfrey up just as he emerged from the winding stair into the ringing chamber.
    “I’ve come to watch you do the bells, Mr. Godfrey. Shall I be in your way?”
    “Why no. Miss Hilary, I’d be very pleased for you to come. You better go first up them ladders, same as I can help you if you was to