“The Government,” I said. “It is in rather a hole, isn’t it?”
“Capital,” said Clithering, laughing without the smallest appearance of mirth, “capital! I didn’t catch the point for a moment, but I do now. My ass has fallen into a pit. You put the matter in a nutshell, Lord Kilmore. I don’t mind confessing that a pit of rather an inconvenient size does lie in front of us. I feel sure that you, as a humane man, won’t refuse your help in the charitable work of helping to get us out.”
Marion came downstairs in her best hat. It was not for nothing that Bob Power and I and the running volunteer had struggled with her trunk. Her frock, also, was charming.
“Your daughter,” said Clithering. “Now my dear young lady, you must spare your father to me for an hour. Affairs of state. Affairs of state. But you’ll allow me to send you to church in my car. My private secretary is in it, and I shall tell him to see you safely to church, to secure a seat for you—”
“The Dean has reserved seats for us,” I said.
“Capital, capital. We can regard that as settled then. My private secretary—an excellent young fellow whom I picked up at Toynbee Hall—a student of our social problems—a man whom I’m sure you’ll like.”
He conducted Marion to the door and handed her over to the private secretary from Toynbee Hall. I resigned myself and led Clithering to a deserted smoking-room.
“I never saw so much church-going anywhere,” he said. “It’s most remarkable. I don’t think the Government quite appreciates—”
As a matter of fact the percentage of church-going men on that particular Sunday was considerably over the average. On the other hand there were much fewer women than usual. Every church of every Protestant denomination was holding a “Parade Service” for volunteers, and most of the women who tried to get in had to be turned away from the doors. I thought it well to rub the facts in a little.