Free Village Affairs by Miss Read Page A

complaint. Clearly, Mrs Rose was accepted, and that was a great relief to me.
    She looked frailer than ever, and also decidedly chilly in a sleeveless cotton frock.
    'I'd no idea it would be so cold,' she said, clutching her goose-fleshed arms. 'It is
June,
after all!'
    'It's always colder up here on the downs,' I told her, 'and these old buildings are pretty damp. We grow quite a good crop of toadstools in the map cupboard when the weather's right.'
    She was not amused. I hastily changed my tactics.
    'Come over to the house,' I urged, 'and we'll find you a cardigan. It will be too big, I fear, but at least you will be warm.'

    Tibby greeted us effusively, no doubt imagining that the morning session had gone by with unprecedented speed, and it was now time for a mid-day snack.
    Mrs Rose paused to take in my accommodation and furnishings before coming upstairs with me.
    'I used to have a nice little house like this,' she mourned.
    I felt very sorry for her, and slightly guilty too. I certainly was lucky, that I knew. All the old fears of losing my home came fluttering back as we mounted the stairs. I did my best to fight them off.
    I set out a selection of woollen garments, and she chose a thick Shetland wool cardigan which would have kept out an arctic wind. It should certainly mitigate the chill of Fairacre School in June.
    Her eyes wandered over the bedroom as she did up the buttons.
    'You have made it so pretty and snug,' she said enviously. 'I had much the same curtains when I was in the school house at Bedworth.'
    'I always admired the garden when I passed that way,' I said hastily, trying to wean her from her nostalgia. 'The roses always seemed so fine in that part of the country. Clay soil, I suppose. What sort of garden do you have now in Caxley?'
    I could not have done worse.
    'I've no garden at all! Just a window box in my upstairs flat. I can't tell you how much I miss everything.'
    The sound of infants screaming in the playground saved me from commenting.
    'I think we'd better go back,' I said, leading the way downstairs, 'or we may find spilt blood.'
    But all was comparatively calm, and I led Mrs Rose inside to show her the infants' room, and to introduce her to Mrs Pringle.
    That lady was leaning against the doorway, upturned broom in hand, looking rather like Britannia with her trident, but a good deal less comely. She bowed her head graciously to Mrs Rose.
    'We met at Mrs Denham's auction sale,' she reminded the new teacher. 'I remember it well because you bid against me for a chest of drawers.'
    Mrs Rose looked nervous.
    'Not that you missed much,' continued Mrs Pringle. 'Even though it was knocked down to me at four pounds. The bottom drawer jams something cruel, and them handles pulls off in your hand. We've had to glue 'em in time and time again.'
    I thought, once again, on hearing this snippet of past history, that life in a small community is considerably brightened by such memories as this one of a shared occasion. Some of these joltings of memory are caused by pure happiness—others, as in this present case, owe their sharpness to a certain tartness in the situation. Obviously, Mrs Pringle's bad bargain had caused some rankling since the day of the ladies' battle for the chest of drawers.
    'Miss!' shouted Ernest, appearing on the scene. 'Can I ring the bell, miss? Can I? Can I ring the bell?'
    'Yes, yes,' I replied. 'And there's no need to rush in here as though a: bull were after you.'
    I ushered Mrs Rose into the infants' room as the bell clanged out its message to any tardy school children still in the fields and lanes of Fairacre.

    The Caxley Chronicle
carried a full report of Arthur Coggs' case that week, and eagerly devoured it was by all his neighbours in Fairacre. There is nothing so comforting as reading about others' tribulations. It reminds one of one's own good fortune.
    The prosecution's most weighty piece of evidence, in more senses than one, was the entire piece of lead roofing which