"Got you this time!" he screamed to Joe, his face distorted with hate. "Mr. Spink!" he cried to somebody who must have been near by.
The engineer made a grab at him and seized him by the head.
"Got you, ye mean!" he bellowed1 and jerked the other bodily into the room. "Ah, ye dirty spyin tyke!—I'll learn you!"
He heaved his enemy from his knees to his feet and closed with him. The struggle was that of a parrot in the clutch of a tiger.
Joe carried his enemy to the door and slung2 him out head first. Alf brought up with a bang against a big car which had just drawn3 up outside.
A little lady sat in it.
"Will you get out of my way, please?" she said coldly to the man sprawling4 on his hands and knees in the dust at her feet, as she proceeded to descend5.
The prostrate6 man raised his eyes and blinked. The lady passed him by as she might have passed a dead puppy lying in the road.
Joe crossed the path and examined with a certain detached interest, the door of the car against which Alf's head had crashed.
"Why, yo've made quite a dent7 in your nice car," he said. "Pity." And he walked away down the street after Mr. Spink who was retiring discreetly8 round the corner.
Mrs. Lewknor entered the cottage.
Ruth was sitting in the kitchen, her hands in her lap, dazed.
The lady went over to her.
"It's all right, Ruth," she said gently in the other's ear.
Slowly Ruth recovered and poured the tale of the last twenty-four hours into the ear of her friend. It was the cruelty of her mother-in-law more than anything else that troubled her: for it was to her significant of the attitude of the world.
"That's her!" she said. "And that's them!—and that's how it is!"
Mrs. Lewknor comforted her; but Ruth refused to be comforted.
"Ah, you don't know em," she said. "But I been through it, me and little Alice. See I'm alone again now Ernie's gone. And so they got me. And they know it and take advantage—and Mrs. Caspar, that sly and cruel, she leads em on."
"I think perhaps she's not as bad as she likes to make herself out," Mrs. Lewknor answered.
She opened her bag, took out a letter, and put it in Ruth's hand. It was from Anne Caspar, angular as the writer in phrase alike and penmanship, and in the pseudo-business vein9 of the daughter of the Ealing tobacconist.
Dear Madam,—If your Committee can help Mrs. Caspar in the Moot10, board for herself and four children, I will pay rent of same.
Yours faithfully,
Anne Caspar.
Later just as twilight11 began to fall Ruth went up to Rectory Walk. Anne was standing12 on the patch of lawn in front of the little house amid her tobacco plants, sweet-scented in the dusk, a shawl drawn tight about her gaunt shoulders.
Ruth halted on the path outside.
"I do thank you, Mrs. Caspar," she said, deep and quivering.
The elder woman did not look at her, did not invite her in. She tugged13 at the ends of her shawl and sniffed14 the evening with her peculiar15 smirk16.
"Must have a roof over them, I suppose," she said. "Even in war-time."
The visit of Mrs. Trupp and Mrs. Lewknor to the Registrar17 at Lewes had proved entirely18 satisfactory. No marriage had taken place on the day in question, so examination disclosed. Mrs. Lewknor reported as much to her husband on her return home that evening.
The Colonel grinned the grin of an ogre about to take his evening meal of well-cooked children.
"We must twist Master Alf's tail," he said; "and not forget we owe him one ourselves."
At the next Committee meeting, which the Colonel attended, there was heavy fighting between the Army and the Church; and after it even graver trouble between Alf and the Reverend Spink.
"It's not only my reputation," cried the indignant curate. "It's the credit of the Church you've shaken."
"I know nothing only the facts," retorted Alf doggedly—"if they're any good to you. I drove them there meself—14th September, 1906, four o'clock of a Saturday afternoon and a bit foggy like. You can see it in the entry-book for yourself. They went into the Registrar's office single, and they walked out double, half-an-hour later. I see em myself, and you can't get away from the facts of your eyes, not even a clergyman can't."
Alf was additionally embittered19 because he felt that the curate had left him disgracefully in the lurch20 in the incident of the Moot. The Reverend Spink on his side—somewhat dubious21 in his heart of the part he had played on the fringe of that affair—felt that by taking the strong and righteous line now he was vindicating22 himself in his own eyes at least for any short-comings then.
"I shall report the whole thing to the Archdeacon," he said. "It's a scandal. He'll deal with you."
"Report it then!" snapped Alf. "If the Church don't want me, neether don't I want the Church."
The war was killing23 the Archdeacon, as Mr. Trupp had said it must.
The flames of his indomitable energy were devouring24 the old gentleman for all the world to see. He was going down to his grave, as he would have wished, to the roll of drums and roar of artillery25.
Thus when the Reverend Spink went up to the Rectory to report on the delinquencies of the sidesman, he found his chief in bed and obviously spent.
The old gentleman made a pathetic figure attempting to maintain his dignity in a night-gown obviously too small for him, which served to emphasize his failing mortality.
His face was ghastly save for a faint dis-colouration about one eye; but he was playing his part royally still. His bitterest enemy must have admired his courage; his severest critic might have wept, so pitiful was the old man's make-believe.
On a table at his side were all the pathetic little properties that made the man. There was his snuff-box; there the filigree26 chain; a scent-bottle; a rosary; a missal. On his bed was the silver-mounted ebony cane27; and beneath his pillow, artfully concealed28 to show, the butt-end of his pistol.
Over his head was the photograph of a man whom the curate recognised instantly as Sir Edward Carson; and beneath the photograph was an illuminated29 text which on closer scrutiny30 turned out to be the Solemn League and Covenant31.
Facing the great unionist Leader on the opposite wall was the Emperor of the French. The likeness32 between the two famous Imperialists was curiously33 marked; and they seemed aware of it, staring across the room at each other over the body of their prostrate admirer with intimacy34, understanding, mutual35 admiration36. Almost you expected them to wink37 at each other—a knowing wink.
Mr. Spink now told his chief the whole story as it affected38 Alf. Much of it the Archdeacon had already heard from his wife.
"I'd better see him," he now said grimly.
And the Archdeacon was not the only one who wanted to see Alf just then. That afternoon, just as he was starting out with the car, he was called up on the telephone.
The Director of Recruiting wished to see him at the Town Hall—to-morrow—11 a.m., sharp. The voice was peremptory39 and somehow familiar. Alf was perturbed40. What was up now?
"Who is the Director of Recruiting here?" he asked Mr. Trupp a few minutes later.
"Colonel Lewknor," the old surgeon answered. "Just appointed. All you young men of military age come under him now."
Alf winced41.
The Colonel's office was in the Town Hall, and one of the first men to come and sign on there was Joe Burt.
The Colonel, as he took in the engineer, saw at once that the hurricane which was devastating42 the world had wrought43 its will upon this man too. The Joe Burt he had originally known four years ago stood before him once again, surly, shy, and twinkling.
"Good luck to you," said the Colonel as they shook hands. "And try to be an honest man. You were meant to be, you know."
"A'm as honest as soom and honester than most, A reckon," the engineer answered dogged as a badgered schoolboy.
The Colonel essayed to look austere44.
"You'd better go before you get into worse trouble," he said.
Joe went out, grinning.
"Ah, A'm not the only one," he mumbled45.
Outside in the passage he met Alf, and paused amazed.
"You goin to enlist46!" he roared. "Never!" and marched on, his laughter rollicking down the corridor like a huge wind.
Alf entered the Colonel's office delicately: he had reasons of his own to fear everything that wore khaki.
The Colonel sat at his desk like a death's head, a trail of faded medal-ribands running across his khaki chest.
He was thin, spectral47, almost cadaverous. But his voice was gentle, as always; his manner as always, most courteous48. Nothing could be more remote from the truculence49 of the Army manner of tradition.
He was the spider talking to the fly.
"I'm afraid this is a very serious matter, Mr. Caspar," he began; and it was a favourite opening of his. "It seems you've been taking away the character of the wife of a member of His Majesty's forces now in France..."
The interview lasted some time, and it was the Colonel who did the talking.
"And now I won't detain you further, Mr. Caspar," he said at the end. "My clerk in the next room will take all your particulars for our index card register, so that we needn't bother you again when conscription comes."
"Conscription!" cried Alf, changing colour.
"Yes," replied the Colonel. "There's been no public announcement yet. But there's no reason you shouldn't know it's coming. It's got to."
Alf went out as a man goes to execution. He returned to his now almost deserted50 garage to find there a note from the Archdeacon asking him to be good enough to call at the Rectory that afternoon.
Alf stood at the window and looked out with dull eyes. Now that the earth which three weeks since had felt so solid beneath his feet was crumbling51 away beneath him, he needed the backing of the Church more than ever; and for all his brave words to Mr. Spink, he was determined52 not to relinquish53 his position in it without a fight.
That afternoon he walked slowly up the hill to the Rectory.
Outside the white gate he stood in the road under the sycamore trees, gathering54 courage to make the plunge55.
If was five o'clock.
A man got off the bus at Billing's Corner and came down the road towards him. Alf was aware of him, but did not at first see who he was.
"Not gone yet then?" said the man.
"No," Alf answered. "Got about as far as you—and that ain't very far."
"I'm on the way," answered Joe. "Going up to the camp in Summerdown now; and join up this evening."
"Ah," said Alf. "I'll believe it when I see it."
Swag on back, Joe tramped sturdily on towards the Downs.
Alf watched him. Then a gate clicked; and Edward Caspar came blundering down the road. Alf in his loneliness was drawn towards him.
"Good evening, father," he said.
The old gentleman blinked vaguely56 through his spectacles, and answered most courteously57,
"Good evening, Mr. Er-um-ah!" and rolled on down the road.
So his own father didn't know him!
Overhead an aeroplane buzzed by. From the coombe came the eternal noise of the hammers as the great camp there took shape. Along Summerdown Road at the end of Rectory Walk a long convoy58 of Army Service Corps59 wagons60 with mule-teams trailed by. A big motor passed him. In it was Stanley Bessemere and three staff-officers with red bands round their caps. They were very pleased with themselves and their cigars. The member for Beachbourne West did not see his supporter. Then there sounded the tramp of martial61 feet. It was Saturday afternoon. The Old Town Company of Volunteers, middle-aged62 men for the most part, known to Alf from childhood, was marching by on the way to drill on the Downs. A fierce short man was in charge. Three rough chevrons63 had been sewn on to his sleeve to mark his rank as sergeant64; and he wore a belt tightly buckled65 about his ample waist. All carried dummy66 rifles.
"Left-right, left-right," called the sergeant in the voice of a drill-instructor of the Guards. "Mark time in front! Forward! Dressing67 by your left!"
It was Mr. Pigott.
Alf's eyes followed the little party up the road. Then they fell on his home covered with ampelopsis just beginning to turn. His mother was at the window, looking at him. Whether it was that the glass distorted her face, or that his own vision was clouded, it seemed to Alf that she was mocking him. Then she drew down the blind as though to shut him out—his own mother.
Alf shivered.
A young woman coming from Billing's Corner crossed the road to him.
"Well, Alf," she said gaily68, "you're getting em all against you!"
Alf raised his eyes to hers, and they were the eyes of the rabbit in the burrow69 with the stoat hard upon its heels.
"Yes," he said more to himself than her. "Reckon I'm done."
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1
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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2
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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3
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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5
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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6
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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7
dent
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| n.凹痕，凹坑；初步进展 | |
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8
discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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9
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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10
moot
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| v.提出；adj.未决议的；n.大会；辩论会 | |
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11
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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12
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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13
tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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15
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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16
smirk
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| n.得意地笑；v.傻笑；假笑着说 | |
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17
registrar
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| n.记录员，登记员；(大学的)注册主任 | |
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18
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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19
embittered
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| v.使怨恨，激怒( embitter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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20
lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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21
dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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22
vindicating
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| v.澄清（某人/某事物）受到的责难或嫌疑( vindicate的现在分词 )；表明或证明（所争辩的事物）属实、正当、有效等；维护 | |
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23
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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24
devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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25
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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26
filigree
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| n.金银丝做的工艺品；v.用金银细丝饰品装饰；用华而不实的饰品装饰；adj.金银细丝工艺的 | |
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27
cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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28
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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29
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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30
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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31
covenant
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| n.盟约，契约；v.订盟约 | |
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32
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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33
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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34
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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35
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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36
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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37
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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38
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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39
peremptory
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| adj.紧急的，专横的，断然的 | |
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40
perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
devastating
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| adj.毁灭性的，令人震惊的，强有力的 | |
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43
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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44
austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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45
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
enlist
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| vt.谋取(支持等)，赢得；征募；vi.入伍 | |
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47
spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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48
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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49
truculence
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| n.凶猛，粗暴 | |
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50
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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51
crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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52
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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53
relinquish
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| v.放弃，撤回，让与，放手 | |
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54
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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55
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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56
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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57
courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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58
convoy
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| vt.护送，护卫，护航；n.护送；护送队 | |
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59
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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60
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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61
martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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62
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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63
chevrons
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| n.（警察或士兵所佩带以示衔级的）∧形或∨形标志( chevron的名词复数 ) | |
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64
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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65
buckled
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| a. 有带扣的 | |
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66
dummy
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| n.假的东西；(哄婴儿的)橡皮奶头 | |
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67
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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68
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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69
burrow
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| vt.挖掘(洞穴)；钻进；vi.挖洞；翻寻；n.地洞 | |
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