Free Village Centenary by Miss Read Page A

over at Bent who's giving up. Seen the light, 1 reckon. Why, 1 remember getting some of my gran's bees up my jersey as a kid, and havin' swellings like pudden basins.'
    'They tell me that's good for rheumatism.'
    Mr Willet snorted.
    'Them old wives' tales! My gran had rheumatics something terrible and 1 bet she was stung often enough. She still told them old bees all that went on, like you hear about. She told 'em about Grandad dying in Caxley Hospital of the dropsy, and about the grandchildren being born. Funny really. People says bees are wise, but the more I hear about 'em the more 1 wonder. Did you know they goes for people dressed in blue?'
    'Never heard of it.'
    'No, nor I bet you haven't heard as they don't like compost heaps or bonfires or mowing the grass and a lot of other things you finds in a garden. Pesky little objects! I don't envy the vicar, that I don't!'
    'But think of all the lovely honey,' 1 said.
    'Bet you a dollar they'll be getting rape honey. Mr Roberts usually has a good field of that - you know, that blazin' yellow stuff.'
    1 said 1 knew what rape looked like. 1 had not lived in the country all these years without -
    Mr Willet interrupted me.
    'All right, all right! All I'm saying is that the vicar will have to take his honey off smartish if it's rape, or it'll gum up the whole works. Terrible stuff to extract, as my old gran could tell him, if she'd been spared. No, he don't know what he's letting himself in for, and I only hope he's got a blue bag for banging on the stings.'
    'Can you still get a blue bag?'
    'I doubt it,' said Mr Willet. He sighed and moved off. After a few steps he stopped and called across the playground:
    'Hope you aren't thinkin' of startin' bees,' he shouted. 'That's one thing I'm not helping you with, I can tell you.'

    During the last day or two of term, I turned over in my mind the snippets of history that I had heard from Dolly Clare. Somewhere here there was the theme for our centenary celebrations, I felt sure.
    To give Miss Briggs her due, the idea of dressing the children in the costume of 1880 had some merit. Perhaps we could have just two children in costume telling Fairacre School's story in each decade? Or, more practically, a boy and girl of each of the five reigns - six, if you included Edward VIII - through which the school had passed, suitably apparelled for their particular narrations.
    It would be best if we could let the whole school take part, and perhaps a song or poem typical of each period could intersperse the narration. 1 discussed my nebulous ideas with Miss Briggs, who seemed remarkably co-operative for once. Perhaps her impending holiday in France was having a stimulating effect.
    'Have you fixed a date?' she enquired sensibly.
    'Sometime in the first week in December,' I told her. 'And for two performances definitely, otherwise we shan't have room for everyone. I thought parents of infants one afternoon, and the others the next.'
    'What a good idea! And perhaps we could combine it with the tea party the children usually give at Christmas.'
    'That's a thought,' I agreed.
    The Christmas party for parents, with the children acting as hosts, is a long-standing tradition in the school. Sometimes we are hopelessly overcrowded; dividing the party into a two-day event might help considerably. I looked at my assistant with new respect. At times she was quite bright, I thought.
    'Of course, there's heaps of time for making arrangements,' she said.
    'We'll have to start pretty early,' I assured her. 'We must know what we propose to do next term so that the mothers can think about costumes, and it looks to me as though the whole of the autumn term will be devoted to rehearsing, whatever we decide upon.'
    'Let's hope the dormer window will be done by then,' said Miss Briggs, watching a steady drip dropping into a bucket by my desk.
    'It had better be!' I said grimly.

    Mercifully, the rough weather subsided as suddenly as it had arrived, and the last day of term