‘Oh, my dear Mr. Osborne,’ said little Miss Grey, ‘it’s a man’s duty to be a good Christian and a perfect man. And so it is everybody’s duty; we all acknowledge that.’
Mr. Osborne snorted slightly, with the impatience of a fiery horse suddenly pulled up. ‘I hope I demand less than perfection, though I know that I ought not to be content with less,’ he said. ‘But in the meantime,’ he added, pausing a minute to expel that hot breath of impatience, ‘I don’t suppose you will think it right because of Mrs. Kendal’s feelings, or even her own imperfections, that this poor creature should be left to die?’
Miss Grey and Florry exchanged glances behind the curate’s back, with a slight shaking of heads. Oh, these arbitrary young men, wanting everything their own way, and thinking you have no feeling if you don’t go so far as they do! This was the sentiment in the older lady’s mind; but Florence was naturally more fierce.
‘We are not in the habit of leaving poor people to die—when there is any truth in it,’ she said.
He gave her a look half fierce, half tender, full of the natural animosity of a man checked in his certainties of opinion, yet with a longing that she at least should understand and know what he meant.
‘Oh yes,’ said Miss Grey, ‘I’ll go; and have a little order put in the place, at least. That little girl—- the eldest, Florry, don’t you remember?—who was sent to the seaside after her fever, she ought to be good for something now.’
‘There is a little girl,’ said the curate.
Miss Grey turned round upon him with a laugh that made him furious. ‘As if we didn’t know!’ she said. Then, turning to Florence again, ‘You might go in, as you pass, my dear, to Mrs. Gould, and see if the nurse is engaged. Tell her, if she can, to run round to Mead Lane about two o’clock. She’ll probably find me there, and if it is anything really serious we’ll get the doctor to see her. Come now, let’s see if there is anything else we want to consult Mr. Osborne about.’
‘I want to ask you, at least,’ he said, ‘if you will help me with my meeting, to give them an evening’s entertainment. I recognise,’ with a little severity, ‘as well as you do, that they must be amused as well as looked after.’
‘Well,’ said Miss Grey, ‘if it’s children I am quite ready to play any number of games with them. But I’m not a great one for providing amusement, Mr. Osborne. In the first place I can’t sing to them, or dance to them, or play the fiddle; in the next, I think they like their own amusements best.’