Poor Caroline (28 page)

And it seemed to Roger that as he watched one gross and
toothless and misshapen hag, she changed slowly before his
eyes into the straight, clean, definite personality of Eleanor
de la Roux, and began to dance, gravely and quietly,
among the girls. He rushed out to greet her, calling to her,
'Eleanor, Eleanor. Dance with me. Dance with me!' But
she turned her indifferent contemptuous face towards him, and said, 'A comic curate. Not even a proper man.' In fury
he leapt at her, catching her by the shoulders and shaking
her, until she changed again, while in his arms, to the
toothless, shapeless, quavering old woman.

He woke up suddenly, sweating with terror, to find himself alone with a sword of moonlight falling across his bed.

§3

Three or four days passed before he found time to call
upon Miss Denton-Smyth. He found himself at about six
o'clock one evening passing close to Lucretia Road, and
decided to find out if she were in. He would insist upon knowing just what was the position of the Christian Cinema
Company. After all, she had frequently asked him to help
her. He could not be expected to give his support to a move
ment that he did not understand.

He hardly noticed the external appearance of 40 Lucretia Road. He was accustomed to dark staircases and grimy cor
ridors. He knocked at her door, but heard no answer. He
knocked again.

This time there was a faint movement inside the room.

'Is Miss Denton-Smyth in?' he asked. 'It's Mortimer -
Roger Mortimer here.'

'Oh, wait a minute. I've only just got in. I'll put the
light on.'

'Is it an awkward time to come? Shall I go away?'

'Oh, no, no, no.'

She opened the door now, and he moved forward into an
unlighted room.

'I can't - I can't find the matches,' half-whispered a
muffled voice.

'It's all right. I've got some."

He felt for his matches.

'Shall I light the gas?'

'Oh, please.'

He lit the gas. He saw the comfortless disorder of her room. He saw her coat and hat flung on to the bed where
she too had obviously been lying until he came. He saw her
face working and quivering with emotion.

'I - hadn't time -' she gasped. 'Just in from the office.
Rather tired.'

And she crumpled up into a chair and began to cry.

'Ah - look here - you're tired - can't I light your fire for
you?'

He had encountered similar situations before and in
vented a technique with which to face them. He lit the fire,
plumped out the cushions and drew the faded curtains. She
could not speak, though her tears were drying, and she could
lie back against the armchair into which he had pressed her,
and wait there for more miracles to happen.

Gradually she recovered her self-possession, laughed a
little, and asked him to fill the kettle, explaining that she had come in from the office too tired to make the tea, or
shop, or do anything.

'Well, you'll have to let me be your errand-boy. What do
you get for tea?'

'Anything. Everything. I don't think there's anything in
the house at all. But there's about sevenpence halfpenny in
my purse.'

'Very good. I'll see what one can do on sevenpence half
penny.'

He ran down the stairs again, thinking rapidly. Caroline's
condition had entirely destroyed his earlier intention. She
looked really ill as she lay back in her chair, unable to con
trol her tears of exhaustion. This was not the moment for stern reproaches and the high hand of pastoral indignation.

He went from shop to shop, buying recklessly milk, eggs,
cheese, butter, bread, tea, a bottle of brandy and a large
Madeira cake, a box of crystallized fruits and a pound of
sugar. Returning, laden with parcels, he passed a boy
wheeling a barrow bright with mauve, pink and scarlet
tulips. His purse was almost
empty, but on an impulse he
stopped, bought a tight scarlet bunch of tulips, and ran back
to Caroline's room, dropping butter and the Madeira cake on the stairs.

She heard him coming and opened the door. She had recovered a little by this, tidied her hair and spread the table
cloth. The fire blazed; the kettle puffed. With a child's
pleasure she watched him unpack his parcels; but when she
saw the tulips she almost wept again.

'Oh, flowers-'she cried. 'Oh, flowers.' And buried her
face in them.

Embarrassed now by his exuberance, uncertain if it had
been in the best of taste, he murmured, 'Oh well, when one is
tired flowers are rather pleasant. And I am always looking
for an excuse to buy them.'

He cut the bread and butter, boiled the eggs and insisted
that she should drink one tablespoonful of brandy in strong
tea before she filled her cup up properly. 'My mother swore by it as a pick-me-up.'
'Won't you have some?'
'I'm not tired.'

'Your hair's wet. Is it raining?'

'No. I've been bathing-in the Victoria Baths-rather
absurd it sounds, doesn't it? But it's about the quickest
means of getting exercise, and I take a batch of young
urchins on Thursday afternoons straight after school and
make 'em dive. All my scouts are going in for their swimmers' badges.'
'Do you dive?'
'Mildly.'

He was a brilliant diver. Too short-sighted for proficiency
at games, he had specialized in running, swimming and
hurdling.
Since he came to London he had found that his athletic accomplishments gave him a greater hold over the
boys' clubs and young men's classes than either his learning or his asceticism.

'I'll tell you something, Miss Denton-Smyth,' he con
fessed, chasing an egg round the pan with a small teaspoon.
'I use my diving purely for effect. It's the only spectacular accomplishment I have. The Boy Scouts and Young Men's
Guilds and so forth think me rather a poor worm, for I'm
no good at all at Bright Brief Brotherly talks. But I learnt to swim in the Cher when I was about four, I should think, and
diving and so on are almost second nature to me. Salt?
Salt? Where do you keep it? In this cupboard? Are the
eggs hard enough? It's a disquieting reflection upon the
influence of the Church, that one can't really do anything
with these young creatures by precept or practice, but if one
says "Come and see me do swallow-dives on Thursday" they sink into the most complete docility.'

'I should like to see you do it.'

'Oh, it's a remarkable performance, I assure you. The
trouble is that I had the arrogance to think that my work
was to lead souls to God, whereas what I can really do is to
lead bodies to the bathing-pool, -

"And all that teacheth man to dread . . . .

The bath as little as the bed." '

He was talking nonsense to gain time while she recovered
her strength and spirit under the influence of tulips, tea, and
miracles. She squared her shoulders again and a bright spot
of colour burned in each cheek. She began to make jokes,
to talk jubilantly and criticize his latest sermon. In the face
of such recovery, he felt able to get to business.

'You know, Miss Denton-Smyth, you asked me a little
while ago to use such small influence as I have on behalf of
the Christian Cinema Company.'

'Yes, yes indeed, and I can't tell you how pleased I am,
because once we can have the interest of the Church I know
that is just what we are needing. You see, the omens have
been very propitious lately. Did I tell you about the
very
nice notice we had in the
Christian Herald?
And another in
the
Methodist Free Press
about the little lecture I gave at
Willesden last week? I tell you, it spreads; it spreads.'

'What I really wanted to know,' Roger began; but she
interrupted him.

'You see, I've written to Lady Huntingdon, and her secretary says she's coming back in March. I know she's very well off, because I read in the papers about her husband's will,
and she is sole legatee, and that means
quite
twelve thousand a year, if not more, and really with all that money she
should
be able to spare us just a little, say five thousand, and I
know
she's interested in the cinema.'

'But Miss Denton-Smyth -'

'Oh, I
know
you'll agree with me. And then you know
there's Mr. Macafee. Of course he's difficult. You know, I always say that genius is the converse side of abnormality and of course you can't expect a
brilliant
man like that to
have the common sense and practical knowledge of the
world which people say, for instance, that I have, though I'm sure I don't know. And speaking of the company - I
suppose you couldn't
lend
me five shillings just as a loan over
the week-end? I did send a post card to Eleanor asking her
to call round to-day, but then she has to be down at that
firm she works for in the city this evening, and of course she mayn't have time to come in. Young people
will
be young
people.'

So she not only swindled Eleanor as a director, thought Roger. She borrowed from her as a relative. She was a
dangerous and tiresome old woman. He braced himself for condemnation; but his sympathies ran counter to his reason. For when he looked at her, he observed her debonair vitality
rising above her fatigue and loneliness. Her large romantic eyes gazed at him with adoring trust. It was so obvious that she saw herself as a brave if battered adventurer steering through storms and perils towards a splendid harbour. She
was talking now of the great things which the Christian
Cinema Company would one day accomplish, of the need in
England for an organization to purify public taste. The
glory of her theme caught her up like a wind and swept her
to the heights of her idealism. Her gallant spirit triumphed
above her weary flesh, until Roger saw, acted before his
eyes, the drama of the mystic whose strength transcends the limitations of mortality. He could not force himself to break
in upon her ecstasy. Also he had a committee meeting ior the
Church Bazaar at 6.30 and it would take him quite a
quarter of an hour to reach it.

Across the emotional world was woven the net of prac
tical routine. If he was late for the committee, Mrs. Rawlins
would bully the wretched secretary, Beattie Laver, into gibbering incompetence, Mrs. Masters would push the Romney
girls out of the Sweet Stall, and time would be wasted,
nerves shattered and dignity lost over absurd confusions. He
must deal with Miss Denton-Smyth another time. Mean
while he fumbled in a shabby leather case where a pound
note lay in wait for such emergencies. If Eleanor came
that night she must not be troubled by the old lady's importunity.