Free Oscar and Lucinda by Peter Carey Page A

handkerchief ("Keep it, keep it," said Mrs Stratton),
    "not so much personal as theological. You see," he said, "he is not saved."
    "What a remarkable boy you are," said Mrs Stratton.
    Oscar, in spite of his agony, felt pleased to accept this compliment and he tucked it away carefully just as he now tucked away this hard warm ball of wet handkerchief into the depth of his pocket. He was a remarkable boy.
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    Oscar and Lucinda
    "But, Oliver," said Mrs Stratton, "we cannot steal you from your father, even if we wished."
    "It is not Oliver," said Mr Stratton (rather smugly, thought Mrs Stratton).
    "What is it, then?"
    "It is Oscar," said Mr Stratton.
    "Oscar?" ,
    "Yes."
    "What an extraordinary name," said Mrs Stratton.
    "I am named after an old friend of my father's."
    "Was he a foreigner?" asked Mrs Stratton, but her mind was not on her interrogation. Her husband had unsettled her. She did not understand his face. It bore a calm and powerful look it had not shown for years. He was very still, and this stillness was perhaps the source of his power. In any case it was most unusual.
    "He was English, ma'am. It was he who lifted the scales from my papa's eyes." Mrs Stratton had lost interest in Oscar's namesake. She addressed her husband directly on another more urgent matter, not worrying that what she had to say was of a private nature.
    "Hugh, the cost." °''
    "The boy is called."
    "In what sense, Hugh?"
    "He is called to Holy Orders," said Hugh Stratton. "He must go to Oriel. I am to coach him for his Articles."
    Mrs Stratton pressed her hand against her bosom, not lightly, but hard, to press her heart into stillness. "You have had three glasses," she said.
    "Quite right," said Mr Stratton.
    'Tomorrow we might talk about it properly," said Mrs Stratton, cocking her head on one side and looking at her husband.
    "Quite so," said the Reverend Mr Stratton, rising from his dining chair. He was a little unsteady at first and then he appeared, as he stretched himself, to be of a springier and more athletic type than previously. He flicked his hair back off his forehead. "I think," he swung his arms backwards and forwards, expanding his chest, "that the best plan would be for Oscar to go to bed."
    Mrs Stratton looked at her husband's smile. It was lovely, and rather boyish, as if he held roses behind his back, or if not roses, something rarer, some genus hitherto unseen in this part of the country.
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    14 Trials
    Men and women with lanterns crossed fields sown with winter oats. Sleepy children were raised from bed to pray by cold hearths. The three Groucher men, Timothy, Cyrus and Peter, came to Theophilus and offered to take the boy back by force. They were big men with barrel chests, arms like blacksmiths'; they carried big wooden staves which they thumped on the floor to punctuate their conversation.
    Mrs Williams silently sided with the Croucher brothers. She would have paddled his backside with a hairbrush and had him in his bed before the hour was up. But her employer sent the Crouchers away asking "only" that they give up their precious sleep for prayer. Mrs Williams was tired. She wished to sleep. Her employer seemed to expect her to pray beside him. It was a hard floor and no prayer mats, not even the piece of felt she used when scrubbing. Her master prayed loudly. He prayed self-importantly. He prayed as if he were the centre of the universe, as if the only reason the son had run away was so that God could punish the father. He begged God to punish him in some other way. He begged him loudly, continually, but Mrs Williams thought he sounded like a duke talking to a king and not the "poor sinner" he claimed to be. Mrs Williams was fifty-five years old, too old for this sort of nonsense. If she had been God she would have given him a thwack across the earhole and sent him to bed. At fifteen minutes past eleven, the two Anglicans came, bringing red mud and the smell of the taproom into the little limestone cottage. She was