The whole village was seething with mild excitement over the meeting of the night before. Gossip of the most fascinating kind was flying from lip to ear at every cottage door. The most wild and improbable tales were being listened to with perfect belief. No girl would like to be shut up by herself in a kitchen while such joys were to be found outside. And Gladys, with her intimate knowledge of all that happened in the vicarage, would be welcome anywhere. She would be in a position to command the attention of thrilled audiences whatever she chose to say.
Mrs. Eames thoroughly understood this. Being a kind-hearted woman, full of sympathy with anyone who enjoyed excitement, she gave Gladys a holiday without a murmur.
This was not so difficult for her as it would have been for many mistresses. The vicar went off soon after breakfast with a package of sandwiches in his pocket. There was therefore no cooking to be done for him. Mrs. Eames never cooked for herself when left alone. She did not even lay a table for herself or go to the trouble of getting out plates, knives or forks. Her plan, a very sensible one, was to eat whatever she could find whenever she felt hungry, generally without even sitting down. When Gladys walked off in a white skirt and a pink silk jumper, Mrs. Eames had to make the beds and wash up the breakfast things. Otherwise the want of a servant left her with little or no extra work.
She was washing up cups and plates when she caught sight through the pantry window of James Hinton. Many vicars' wives, obliged to keep up the difficult pretence that they live as ladies, would have been embarrassed at being discovered in an apron, with sleeves rolled up, over a pantry sink, by a visitor like Hinton. But Mrs. Eames was entirely free from any taint of snobbishness. She would have gone on ironing clothes in front of her drawing-room fire if a duchess had called on her while so occupied. She greeted Hinton through the window and invited him to walk straight into the pantry.
Hinton's manners were as good as hers. Instead of expressing surprise or contempt, instead of offering any kind of excuse or apology for Mrs. Eames's occupation, he took his place beside the sink, picked up a glass-cloth and dried the vessels which Mrs. Eames handed to him. He did not even allow it to appear by a glance or a sniff that he found the cloth he used disgustingly dirty, though it was, being one of those of which Gladys had charge. It was not in vain that Hinton had lived as footman and valet in some of the best houses in England. He had acquired the manners of a great gentleman.
While they worked together, Hinton explained the objects of his visit. It was, in his opinion, desirable to secure as many influential patrons as possible for the pageant.
"Of course," said Mrs. Eames, "we've got to advertise, and there are only two ways of doing that. Either we've got to spend a lot of money, which we haven't got—though your guarantee was extremely generous. It quite took my breath away."
"A trifle, madam," said Hinton, drying a plate carefully, "a mere trifle."
"It wasn't a trifle at all," said Mrs. Eames, "but it won't run to a whole page advertisement in a daily paper. Luckily there's another way of advertising. My niece, Miss Appleby, told me about it. You know her, don't you?"
Hinton had never met Beth Appleby, but was quite prepared to listen to her views about advertising.