The Three Brothers

by Eden Phillpotts

CHAPTER VIII

Mr. Masterman and his sister made more friends than enemies. The man's good-nature and energy attracted his parishioners; while Miss Masterman, though not genial, was sincere. A certain number followed the party of Mr. Gollop and Eliza, yet, as time passed, it diminished. The surplices arrived; the girls were turned out of the choir; but the heavens did not fall. Even the Nonconformists of Shaugh Prior regarded the young vicar with friendliness, and when he called a meeting at the parish room, Mr. Nathan Baskerville and others who stood for dissent, attended it in an amiable spirit.

Rumours as to the nature of the proposition had leaked out, and they were vague; but a very general interest had been excited, and when the evening came the vicar, his churchwardens, and friends, found a considerable company assembled.

There were present Vivian and Nathan Baskerville, with most of the former's family. Mrs. Lintern and her two daughters from Undershaugh also came; while Heathman Lintern, Ned Baskerville, and other young men stood in a group at the rear of the company. From Trowlesworthy arrived the warrener, Saul Luscombe, his niece, Milly, and his man, Jack Head. People looked uneasy at sight of the last, for he was a revolutionary and firebrand. The folk suspected that he held socialistic views, and were certain that he worked harm on the morals of younger people. Susan Hacker, at her master's wish, attended the meeting and sat impassive among friends. Thomas Gollop and Joe Voysey, the vicarage gardener, sat together; but Miss Gollop was not present, because her services were occupied with the newly-born.

A buzz and babel filled the chamber and the heat increased. Jack Head opened a window. Whereupon Mr. Gollop rose and shut it again. The action typified that eternal battle of principle which waged between them. But Vivian Baskerville was on the side of fresh air.

"Let be!" he shouted. "Us don't want to be roasted alive, Thomas!"

So the window was opened once more, and Head triumphed.

Dennis Masterman swiftly explained his desire and invited the parish to support him in reviving an ancient and obsolete ceremonial.

"The oldest men among you must remember the days of the Christmas mummers," he said. "I've heard all about them from eye-witnesses, and it strikes me that to get up the famous play of 'St. George,' with the quaint old-world dialogue, would give us all something to do this winter, and be very interesting and instructive, and capital fun. There are plenty among you who could act the parts splendidly, and as the original version is rather short and barren, I should have some choruses written in, and go through it and polish it up, and perhaps even add a character or two. In the old days it was all done by the lads, but why not have some lasses in it as well? However, these are minor points to be decided later. Would you like the play? that's the first question. It is a revival of an ancient custom. It will interest a great many people outside our parish; and if it is to be done at all, it must be done really well. Probably some will be for it and some against. For my part, I only want to please the greater number. Those who are for it had better elect a spokesman, and let him say a word first; then we'll hear those who are against."

The people listened quietly; then they bent this way and that, and discussed the suggestion. Some rose and approached Vivian Baskerville, where he sat beside his brother. After some minutes of buzzing conversation, during which Vivian shook his head vigorously, and Nathan as vigorously nodded, the latter rose with reluctance, and the folk stamped their feet.

"'Tis only because of my brother's modest nature that I get up," he explained. "As a Church of England man and a leader among us, they very properly wanted for him to speak. But he won't do it, and no more will young Farmer Waite, and no more will Mr. Luscombe of Trowlesworthy; so I'll voice 'em to the best of my power. Though I'm of t'other branch of the Christian Church, yet my friends will bear me out that I've nothing but kind feeling and regard for all of them, and in such a pleasant matter as this I shall do all in my power to help your reverence, as we all shall. For I do think there's none but will make the mummers welcome again, and lend a hand to lift the fun into a great success. Me and my brother and Luscombe, and Waite and Gollop, and Joe Voysey, and a good few more, can well remember the old mumming days; and we'll all do our best to rub up our memories. So what we all say is, 'Go ahead, Mr. Masterman, and good luck to it!'"

Applause greeted Nathan. The folk were filled with admiration at his ready turn of speech. He sat down again between Mrs. Lintern and Cora. Everybody clapped their hands.

Then came a hiss from the corner where Jack Head stood.

"A dissentient voice," declared the clergyman. "Who is that?"

"My name is Jack Head, and I be gwaine to offer objections," said the man stoutly.

"Better save your wind then!" snapped Mr. Gollop. "You be one against the meeting."

Head was a middle-aged, narrow-browed, and underhung individual of an iron-grey colour. His body was long and thin; his shoulders were high; his expression aggressive, yet humorous. He had swift wits and a narrow understanding. He was observant and impressed with the misery of the world; but he possessed no philosophical formulas to balance his observation or counsel patience before the welter of life. He was honest, but scarce knew the meaning of amenity.

"One or not won't shut my mouth," he said. "I'm a member of the parish so much as you, though I don't bleat a lot of wild nonsense come every seventh day, and I say that to spend good time and waste good money this way be a disgrace, and a going back instead of going forward. What for do we want to stir up a lot of silly dead foolishness that our grandfathers invented? Ban't there nothing better to do with ourselves and our wits than dress up like a ship-load of monkeys and go play-acting? We might so well start to wassail the apple-trees and put mourning on the bee-butts when a man dies. I'm against it, and I propose instead that Mr. Masterman looks round him and sees what a miserable Jakes of a mess his parish be in, and spends his time trying to get the landlords to——"

"Order! Order! Withdraw that!" cried out Mr. Gollop furiously. "How dare this infidel man up and say the parish be in a Jakes of a mess? Where's Ben North?"

"I'm here, Thomas," said a policeman, who stood at the door.

"You'm a silly old mumphead," replied Jack. "To hear you about this parish—God's truth! I'll tell you this, my brave hero. When the devil was showing the Lord the kingdoms of the earth and the glory of 'em, he kept his thumb on Shaugh Prior, so as none should see what a dung-heap of a place it was."

"Order! Order!" cried Miss Masterman shrilly, and Mr. Gollop grew livid.

"I appeal to the chair! I appeal to the nation!" he gasped. Then he shook his fist at Jack.

"There's no chair—not yet," explained Dennis. "As soon as we decide, I'll take the chair, and we'll appoint a committee to go into the matter and arrange the parts, and so on. The first thing is, are we agreed?"

One loud shout attested to the sense of the meeting.

"Then, Mr. Head, you're in a minority of one, and I hope we may yet convince you that this innocent revival is not a bad thing," said Dennis. "And further than that, you mustn't run down Shaugh Prior in this company. We've got a cheerful conceit of ourselves, and why not? Don't think I'm dead to the dark side of human life, and the sorrows and sufferings of the poor. I hope you'll all very soon find that I'm not that sort, or my sister either. And the devil himself can't hide Shaugh Prior from the Lord and Saviour of us all, Mr. Head—have no fear of that."

"Sit down, Jack, and say you'm sorry," cried Mr. Luscombe.

"Not me," replied Head. "I've stated my views at a free meeting, and I'm on the losing side, like men of my opinions always be where parsons have a voice. But me and my friends will be up top presently."

"Turn him out, Ben North!" shouted Mr. Gollop; but Ben North refused. Indeed, he was of Jack's party.

"He've done nought but say his say, and I shan't turn him out," the policeman answered. "There's nobody in the chair yet, and therefore there's none here with power to command the Law to move."

A committee was swiftly formed. It consisted of the clergyman and certain parishioners. Nathan joined it for his family; Mr. Luscombe also joined, and Dennis promised that certain local antiquaries and the lord of the manor would assist the enterprise.

"While we are here," he said, "we may as well get the thing well advanced and decide about the characters. All those interested are here, so why not let me read through the old play as it stands? Then we'll settle the parts, and each can copy his or her part in turn."

"There's nothing like being fore-handed," admitted Nathan. "Let's have it by all means. We shall want young and old to play, if my memory serves me."

"We shall, and a good company to sing the songs that I hope to add. My sister, our organist, will undertake the music."

"And right well she'll do it, without a doubt," declared Nathan. "On all hands 'tis admitted how the church music has mended a lot since she took it up."

Mr. Masterman then read a version of the old play, and its ingenuous humour woke laughter.

"Now," said the vicar when his recital was at an end, "I'll ask those among us who will volunteer to act—ladies and gentlemen—to come forward. Especially I appeal to the ladies. They'll have to say very little."

"Only to look nice, and I'm sure that won't cost 'em an effort, for they can't help it," declared Nathan.

None immediately rose. Then Ned Baskerville strolled down the room.

"Best-looking young man in Shaugh," cried an anonymous voice.

"And the laziest!" answered another unknown.

There was a laugh and Ned turned ruddy.

"Thou'lt never take trouble enough to learn thy part, Ned!" cried Heathman Lintern.

"Play Turkish knight, my son," said his father. "Then thou can'st be knocked on the head and die comfortable without more trouble."

Others followed Ned, and Mr. Masterman called for Mark.

"You'll not desert us, Mark? I shall want your help, I know."

"And glad to give it," answered the young man. He grew very hot and nervous to find himself named. His voice broke, he coughed and cut a poor figure. Somebody patted him on the back.

"Don't be frighted, Mark," said Vivian Baskerville; "his reverence only wants for you to do what you can. He wouldn't ask impossibilities."

Mrs. Baskerville compared her handsome son to stammering Mark and felt satisfied. Cora Lintern also contrasted the young men, and in her bosom was anything but satisfaction.

"You needn't act, but you must help in many ways. You're so well up in the old lore—all about our legends and customs," explained the clergyman. "We count on you. And now we want some of the older men among you, and when we've settled them we must come to the ladies. We're getting on splendidly. Now—come—you set a good example, Thomas."

"Me!" cried Mr. Gollop. "Me to play-act! Whoever heard the like?"

"You must play, Thomas," urged Vivian Baskerville of Cadworthy. "Such a voice can't be lost. What a King of Egypt the man will make!"

"I'll do a part if you will, but not else," returned Gollop, and the Baskerville family lifted a laugh at their father's expense.

"For that matter I've took the stage often enough," admitted Vivian; "but 'twas to work, not to talk. All the same, if his reverence would like for me to play a part, why, I'm ready and willing, so long as there isn't much to say to it."

"Hurrah for Mr. Baskerville!" shouted several present.

"And Mr. Nathan must play, too," declared Joe Voysey. "No revel would be complete without him."

"If you'll listen I'll tell you what I think," said the clergyman. "I've considered your parts during the last five minutes, and they go like this in my mind. Let's take them in order:—

"St. George, Mr. Ned Baskerville. Will you do St. George, Ned?"

"Yes, if you can't find a better," said the young man.

"Good! Now the Turkish knight comes next. He must be young and a bit of a fighter. Will you be Turkish knight, Mr. Waite?"

He addressed a young, good-looking, dark man, who farmed land in the parish, and dwelt a few miles off.

Mr. Waite laughed and nodded.

"Right—I'll try."

"Well done! Now"—Mr. Masterman smiled and looked at Jack Head—"will Mr. Head play the Bear—to oblige us all?"

Everybody laughed, including Jack himself.

"The very living man for Bear!" cried Mr. Luscombe. "I command you, Jack, to be Bear!"

"You ain't got much to do but growl and fight, Jack, and you're a oner at both," said Heathman.

"Well, I've said my say," returned Mr. Head, "and I was in a minority. But since this parish wants for me to be Bear, I'll Bear it out so well as I can; and if I give St. George a bit of a hug afore he bowls me over, he mustn't mind that."

"Capital! Thank you, Jack Head. Now, who'll be Father Christmas? I vote for Mr. Nathan Baskerville."

Applause greeted the suggestion, but Miss Masterman bent over from her seat and whispered to her brother. He shook his head, however, and answered under his breath.

"It doesn't matter a button about his being a dissenter. So much the better. Let's draw them in all we can."

"You ought to choose the church people first."

"It's done now, anyway," he replied. "Everybody likes the man. We must have him in it, or half the folk won't come."

"The King of Egypt is next," said Nathan, after he had been duly elected to Father Christmas. "I say Thomas Gollop here for the part."

"I don't play nought," answered Thomas firmly, "unless Vivian Baskerville do. He's promised."

"I'll be Giant, then, and say 'Fee-fo-fum!" answered the farmer. "'Twill be a terrible come-along-of-it for Ned here, and I warn him that if he don't fight properly valiant, I won't die."

"The very man—the only man for Giant," declared Dennis Masterman. "So that's settled. Now, who's for Doctor? That's a very important part. I suppose your father wouldn't do it, Mark? He's just the wise-looking face for a doctor."

"My brother!" cried Vivian. "Good Lord! he'd so soon stand on his head in the market-place as lend a hand in a bit of nonsense like this. Ask Luscombe here. Will you be Doctor, Saul?"

But Mr. Luscombe refused.

"Not in my line. Here's Joe Voysey—he's doctored a lot of things in his time—haven't you, Joe?"

"Will you be Doctor, Joe?" asked Mr. Masterman.

But Joe refused.

"Too much to say," he answered. "I might larn it with a bit of sweat, but I should never call it home when the time came."

"Be the French Eagle, Joe," suggested Mark Baskerville. "You've got but little to say, and St. George soon settles you."

"And the very living nose for it, Joe," urged Mr. Gollop.

"Very well, if the meeting is for it, I'll be Eagle," assented Mr. Voysey.

The part of Doctor remained unfilled for the present.

"Now there's the fair Princess Sabra and Mother Dorothy," explained the vicar. "Princess Sabra, the King of Egypt's daughter, will be a novelty, for she didn't come into the old play in person. She doesn't say anything, but she must be there."

"Miss Lintern for Princess Sabra!" said Mark.

Everybody laughed, and the young man came in for some chaff; but Dennis approved, and Mrs. Lintern nodded and smiled. Cora blushed and Nathan patted Mark on the back.

"A good idea, and we're all for it," he said.

To Cora, as the belle of the village, belonged the part by right. She was surprised and gratified at this sudden access of importance.

Then the vicar prepared to close his meeting.

"For Mother Dorothy we want a lady of mature years and experience. The part is often played by a man, but I would sooner a lady played it, if we can persuade one to do so," he said.

"Mrs. Hacker! Mrs. Hacker!" shouted a mischievous young man at the back of the hall.

"Never," said Susan Hacker calmly. "Not that I'd mind; but whatever would my master say?"

"Let my sister play the part," suggested Thomas. "Eliza Gollop fears nought on two legs. She'll go bravely through with it."

Mr. Nathan's heart sank, but he could not object.

The company was divided. Then, to the surprise of not a few, Mrs. Hacker spoke again. The hated name had dispelled her doubts.

"I'll do it, and chance master," she said. "Yes, there's no false shame in me, I believe. I'll do it rather than——"

"You're made for the part, ma'am," declared Mr. Nathan, much relieved. "And very fine you'll look. You've got to kiss Father Christmas at the end of the play, though. I hope you don't mind that."

"That's why she's going to act the part!" shouted Heathman, and laughter drowned Mrs. Hacker's reply.

In good spirits the company broke up, and the young folk went away excited, the old people interested and amused.

Merriment sounded on the grey July night; many women chattered about the play till long after their usual hour for sleep; and plenty of coarse jests as to the promised entertainment were uttered at the bar of 'The White Thorn' presently.

As for the vicar and his sister, they felt that they had achieved a triumph. Two shadows alone darkened the outlook in Miss Masterman's eyes. She objected to the Nonconformist element as undesirable or unnecessary; and she did not like the introduction of Queen Sabra.

"That showy girl is quite conceited enough already," she said.

But her brother was young and warm-hearted.

"She's lovely, though," he said. "By Jove! the play will be worth doing, if only to see her got up like a princess!"

"Don't be silly, Dennis," answered his sister. "She's a rude wretch, and the Linterns are the most independent people in the parish."