Christopher Hibbault, Roadmaker Part 11

"If they would not think they were amusing themselves, I could endure it," she said, "but they solemnly pretend it's amus.e.m.e.nt and frivolous at that. One old lady told me gravely, she hardly thought it seemly that the Dean should so lend himself to the pleasures of the world.

There, the violets are not spoilt at all. The Dean gave them to me: it's the one thing he can do--grow violets. You shall have them all to yourself." She fetched a silver cup and began arranging them. Aymer ceased to be tired, ceased to be anything but supremely content as his eyes followed her. She went on relating her experience until she had made him laugh, and then she came and sat on a little stool near him.

"May I have the babies down?"

Aymer pretended to grumble.

"You'll go to them if I say no," he complained, "so I have no option."

The bell was rung and the babies ordered to descend.

"Before they come, Caesar, I'm going to ask you a favour," she said coaxingly, "now you are in a good temper again."

"Was I in a bad one?"

"Dreadful. It mustn't reoccur. It is such a bad example for the children."

"The favour, please; bother the children."

"Caesar, I'm ashamed of you. Bless them, you meant to say. Well, the favour. Aymer, I am going to start a creche in Winchester near the big clothing factory. I've talked to the Bishop and he quite approves. I know just the house, but I shall have to buy it, and I haven't enough money for that. I can run it easily if I can only get the premises.

What will you subscribe?"

"I haven't any money at all," he replied gravely. "Vespasian takes it all and I don't think he'd approve of creches, not being a family man."

"Vespasian, indeed." She tilted her chin in the air as Aymer meant her to do, a trifle too much, and the effect was spoilt, but he was well practised in obtaining the exact tilt he admired.

"You can ask him, of course."

"Very likely I will: in the meantime what will you give me?"

"Half a crown. No; five whole shillings, if I have it," he said teasingly.

She considered the matter gravely. "I am not quite sure. I should not like to inconvenience you. Shall we say four and six?"

"No, I will be generous. I'll do this. If you will take the risk of being accused of burglary by Vespasian, I happen to know there is some money in the right hand drawer of the table over there. I don't know how much. Fivepence, perhaps, but you shall have whatever it is."

Renata walked with great dignity across the room and opened the drawer. A little smile hovered about her lips. She picked up a handful of gold and silver and sat down by him to count it.

"It looks an awful lot," he remarked anxiously. "Won't you let me off?

Vespasian is always complaining of my extravagance."

"Sh----Sh----" she held up one finger, "ten, eleven, twelve, and two and six, that's thirteen,--no, fourteen and sixpence."

"Leave me the sixpence," he urged plaintively, but she continued counting.

"Seven pounds, four shillings and sixpence. Count it yourself, Aymer."

Aymer counted and gravely p.r.o.nounced her arithmetic to be correct.

"Thank you, you are a dear." She piled the coins up neatly in little piles on the table by her side. He told her she had better put it in her pocket.

"I haven't one," she sighed.

"You will be sure to forget it, and then Vespasian will get it again."

"Is it likely I would forget seven pounds, four shillings and sixpence?"

But she did. The children arrived and rioted over Aymer. Master Max b.u.mped his head and had to be consoled with his uncle's watch, while Charlotte wandered off on a voyage of exploration alone, and finally sat on the floor by the window with her fat legs straight out in front of her, making a doll of one arm by wrapping it up in her dress, and singing to herself.

"She has quite an idea of time already: listen to her, Aymer."

But Aymer only scoffed at his niece's accomplishments, and then Nevil came in and went down on his knees to kiss his wife, who was much too occupied with her son and heir to move for him. For a moment all three heads were on a level, and it was only when the long Nevil stood up and Renata was reaching up on tip-toe to put some of the violets in his coat that Aymer's sense of completeness vanished. Finally the children were carried off and he was alone again.

"It's a lucky thing for me," he said to himself steadily, "that Nevil married Renata: he might just as easily have married someone I couldn't endure."

When Christopher and Mr. Aston returned they found Aymer whistling and drawing ridiculous caricatures of the family on the back of the _Times_, and he was so outrageously flippant and witty that his father glanced at him suspiciously from time to time.

"Why haven't you let Vespasian light up?" he inquired.

"I'm afraid to call Vespasian. Renata has been raiding and I shall get a lecture. She's left her booty, as I told her she would. Christopher, when you have quite finished pretending it's your duty to draw the curtains, you might run up with this money to her. Put it in that box."

Christopher came forward rather slowly. He swept the money into the box indicated.

"What a lot," he commented.

"Seven pounds, four shillings, and sixpence, and I am now penniless. I shan't even get credit with Heaven. She'll appropriate that."

Christopher ran off with it and meeting Nevil on the stairs gave it into his hand. Renata had gone to dress, and Nevil sauntered in to his wife with her "spoils" at once.

"Seven pounds, four and sixpence," she said gleefully. "For the creche fund. It was nice of Aymer. I had not meant to worry him to-day, but he wanted distraction."

"I thought Vespasian kept his money. Six pounds four and sixpence, Renata," Nevil remarked, counting the money carelessly. She came over to him, brush in hand.

"You can't even do addition. Nothing but dates! I counted it most carefully, so did Aymer."

"Then he's defrauded you of a pound since."

"Nonsense."

They counted it together, but no amount of reckoning would make seven sovereigns out of six. The silver was correct.

"It must have fallen down," said Renata at last and put it away carefully in her desk.

They were late for dinner, and Mr. Aston pretended to upbraid them and told Renata to take her soup and leave her correspondence alone, for there was a big envelope lying by her plate. It was her father-in-law's contribution to the creche scheme, Aymer having forestalled her request, and joined forces with his father in a really adequate sum.

Renata got pink with pleasure as she looked at the cheque. She was, however, far too shy to express her real grat.i.tude in words before them all. She smiled at the donor and remarked she would give him a big photograph in a beautiful frame of the first baby admitted to the creche, to hang in his room as a slight token of her appreciation of his gift.

"It shall take the place of Charlotte," he a.s.sured her gravely.