"And James Hinton can charge what he pleases," said the "auntie."
"I see that," said Mrs. Eames. "He'll make money out of it. That's it."
To anyone with Mrs. Eames's faith in the ultimate success of the pageant, the explanation should have been completely satisfying. James Hinton had promised what he would never be called upon to pay, with the certainty that his promise secured him the opportunity of earning large sums. To anyone less enthusiastic than Mrs. Eames, Hinton's guarantee would have looked like a desperate speculation. If the pageant cost a good deal, as it would, and then failed to attract a large audience, he would have to pay and would stand no chance of recouping himself. Even to Mrs. Eames this view of Hinton's action presented itself all the more clearly because she knew the man and was firmly convinced that he would never allow himself to be swayed by altruism. His guarantee, in spite of the explanation offered, remained a puzzle.
"It's time," said the "auntie," "for me to be getting home along."
She had drunk her share of the tea. She had heard all that Mrs. Eames had to say, thereby providing herself with a store of authentic gossip which would make her an important person in the village next day.
Mrs. Eames chased the unwilling Gladys to bed, having very little hope that the girl would be up in time to light the kitchen fire next morning. Girls, especially girls with Gladys's disposition, are exceedingly sleepy at six o'clock in the morning if they have sat up till nearly midnight the night before.
Then Mrs. Eames went to bed herself and slept soundly, untroubled by the problem of James Hinton's support of the pageant. She had long learnt the folly of worrying over the "whys" of things, especially satisfactory things. James Hinton had done what she herself could never have done nearly so well. He had persuaded the whole village to take up the smuggling pageant with enthusiasm. That was a fact of the most agreeable kind. Why poke into the reasons of it? James Hinton had promised fifty pounds, and, an almost more astonishing thing, had induced the village people to promise one pound two and sixpence. These also were facts. With them, as a sensible woman, she was more than content. It would, indeed, have been nice to know just why James Hinton had offered his money and how he expected to make anything substantial out of the business. But the problem was not one which could keep Mrs. Eames awake.
Chapter VII
The next day was a busy one for Mrs. Eames.
It began with a demand from Gladys for a whole holiday. Her plea was that it was absolutely necessary for her to consult with her "auntie" on matters of grave family importance. She had spent a whole day the week before and two half-days in the course of a fortnight in the same way; and the "auntie" had been in the vicarage kitchen for several hours on all the other days. As an excuse for asking for another holiday the family consultation would not have impressed the simplest and most inexperienced mistress, and Mrs. Eames was no fool. She understood exactly what Gladys wanted her holiday for.