“Oh, thanks, but—really, this is my affair! If I have all the duty and responsibility of being the Vicar’s wife, I don’t see why I should give up the fun of being hostess and arranging my own fête in my own way. It’s very sweet of you, of course, and I’m very grateful. I hope you won’t be offended.”
I began to laugh.
“Offended! Why—Delphine, I was thinking entirely of you. I’m immensely relieved, if you want the real truth. That’s settled then, and we’ll give you some treasures for the Hunt. What would you like? Make up an appropriate list and send it along. Anything you like, up to—say five pounds!”
“Oh, you angel! Will you really?” she cried ecstatically. I had risen this time, and she slid her hand through my arm, and accompanied me to the door. Seen close at hand, her face looked almost child-like in its clear soft tints. I noticed also that her blouse was very fine and delicate, a very different thing from the cheap lace fineries which she had worn when I first saw her. She followed the direction of my eye, stroked down an upstarting frill, and coloured furiously. “Ah, my blouse! Do you admire it? I wrote to town for it, to your dressmaker, and I’ve ordered a lovely frock. You’ll see. For once in my life I shall be really well dressed! Seeing you and Mrs Fane has made me discontented with my dowdy old rags!”
Chapter Eleven.
The Garden Fête.
The garden fête came off yesterday, and on the surface was a roaring success. The weather was ideal; the vicarage garden proved all that was necessary in the way of a background, and the arrangements were so extraordinarily complete that my practical mind was constantly confronted with the question, “Won’t this cost far more than it gains?” In a big city a charity entertainment may throw out expensive baits with a fair chance of catching a shoal of fat and unwary fish; but in a small village the catch can be calculated to a sou. The big fish of the neighbourhood will heave a sigh of duteous resignation, put a five-pound note in the purse, and start for the fray prepared to spend it all, but not one penny more! The smaller fry carry out the same policy with ten or fifteen shillings. The minnows take half-a-crown, with which they pay for tea, and purchase soap at the provision stall, reporting to their husbands at night that, after all, the money was not wasted. The Vicar might just as well have it as the grocer. All the attractions in the world cannot worm shillings out of a public which is so prudent and canny that it has self-guarded itself by leaving its cash at home!
Many times over yesterday afternoon I saw the flicker of longing in feminine eyes as they gazed upon the tempting novelties displayed upon the stalls, but the next moment the lips would screw, the feet pass by. Guild garments must be bought; tea paid for; tickets bought for the novel Treasure Hunt, wherein—with luck!—one might actually gain by the outlay. The visitors lingered to gaze at the pretty china, and glass, and embroideries with which Delphine had filled her stall; but the afternoon wore on, and it looked as full as ever—horribly full! There were none of those bare, blank spaces which stall-holders love to see. At five o’clock we marked off the odd sixpences; at six o’clock we dropped a whole shilling, but still—hardly a sale!