Free Mrs. Tim of the Regiment by D. E. Stevenson Page B

condescending manner. Cannot help feeling that she is great draw to Charters Church (but perhaps this thought is slightly irreverent). Mr. Bridge appears from the vestry and is invited to lunch at Charters Towers. We all walk back across the fields together. Conversation chiefly concerned with the laxness of various farmers and their wives who have failed to put in an appearance this morning. Mr. Bridge assures me that the large animals in the field are cows and quite harmless; I feel bound to believe the word of a clergyman, but hurry across nevertheless.
    Tim is waiting for me in my room looking exceedingly worried and harassed. He wonders what he should give the butler, and should the first footman also receive a recognition of his services? And if so how much? And have I any half-crowns about me?
    Having foreseen this dilemma I am prepared with a small bag of half-crowns, which I procured from the bank before leaving Biddington. (Tim actually has the grace to compliment me on my foresight.) We divide them into piles, not without Sturm und Drang . The gong booms for lunch before we have decided what proportion is to go to the butler. Tim says he has done nothing for us except strut about and look well-fed, and he is dashed if he is going to give him more than five bob. Whereas the first footman has brought up our breakfast or was that the second footman? Reply that I have no idea as they all look alike to me, but that I think the butler is too grand to tip five bob, and Tim had better give him ten. Tim says if he doesn’t want five bob he can jolly well give it back and he (Tim) will know what to do with it.
    The butler, when approached, pockets the five bob with dignified gratitude and all is well. After lunch the Bentley appears we say good-bye to everyone, thank our hostess for our delightful visit, and are whirled off down the drive. Once clear of Charters Towers my thoughts fly homewards, and I begin to wonder what has happened there during our absence (which feels like one of months) and whether Betty is all right –

Second February
    Grace arrives just as I am starting out to see Mrs. Parsons and say ‘Good-bye’ to her. Grace says I am not to go, as she wants to hear all about Charters Towers. Explain to Grace as tactfully as possible that I must go (Mrs. Parsons being bedridden) and suggest that she should walk part of the way with me. Grace refuses to walk with me and asks why bedridden people must always be considered – FIRST (also demands why ‘bedridden’ does Mrs. Parsons ride upon her bed, or her bed upon Mrs. Parsons?). She then says darkly that there are worse troubles than bed.
    Suggest that she should come and tell me all about them tomorrow; but Grace says now is the time and she may not be alive tomorrow for all I know. She goes on to say that if I go to see Mrs. Parsons she will be very disappointed as she was looking forward to a nice long chat with me. Reply that if I don’t go Mrs. Parsons will be disappointed. Grace says I can’t possibly be sure of this. How do I know – she asks –that Mrs. Parsons really enjoys my visits? How do I know that a long-lost friend has not just arrived from Australia or Timbuctoo to see Mrs. Parsons and that my presence at their tête-à-tête will not be de trop?
    Reply mildly that I am sorry for Grace as I sometimes feel that way myself, and advise her to take a course of ‘Jane’. Grace says what is that patent medicine that I am always prescribing – it is her belief that I have shares in it.
    She pursues me to the corner producing new and increasingly fantastic arguments against my proposed visit to Mrs. Parsons, to all of which I turn a deaf ear. Grace then says will I wait a moment while she goes into the fruiterer’s and buys a bunch of black grapes for me to take to Mrs. Parsons? I ought to know better at my age – Grace says – than to visit a bedridden person without taking them a