“Ah, about poor Mr. Chester,” said Mrs. Ascott, with the slightest of glances at the stranger; “I saw it in the papers. Will that affect your papa?”
“Unless”—Miss Maydew put herself forward squarely and steadily—“something is done.”
Mrs. Ascott looked at the old lady for the first time. She had thought her an old nurse at first—for the good woman was not of a patrician appearance, like the girls, who were St. Johns. “Unless—something is done? I am sure we will all do anything that is possible. What can be done?”
“Hush! my dear, hush! She does not know I belong to you,” whispered Miss Maydew. “I think a great deal might be done. If Mr. St. John’s friends were to get up a petition to the Lord Chancellor at once—stating how long he had been here, and how much beloved he was, and the whole state of the case. I don’t personally know his lordship,” said the old lady; “but he can’t be a bad man or he never would have risen to that position. I can’t believe but what if the case were put fully before him, he would give Mr. St. John the living. It seems so much the most natural thing to do.”
“Dear me, so it does!” said Mrs. Ascott. “How clever of you to have thought of it. I will speak to my husband, and see what he says.”
“And if there is any one else whom you can influence—to do good it should be general—from the whole parish,” said Miss Maydew—“from all classes; and it ought to be done at once.”
“To be sure,” said Mrs. Ascott. “I assure you I will speak to my husband.” She got up to take her leave, a little frightened by the vehemence of the stranger, and rather elated at the same time by the sense of having a mission. Miss Maydew went with her to the very door.
“At once,” she said, “at once! It is a fortnight already since the rector died. If the parish means to do anything, you should not lose a day.”
“No: I see, I see! I will go at once and speak to my husband,” cried the visitor, escaping hastily. Miss Maydew returned to her seat breathing a sigh of satisfaction. “There, girls! I have set it agoing at least. I have started it. That was a nice woman—if she exerts herself, I don’t doubt that it will be all right. What a blessing she came while I was here.”
“I hope it is all right,” said Cicely doubtfully; “but she is not very——not very, very sensible, you know. But she is always kind. I hope she will not do anything foolish. Is that papa she is talking to?” cried the girl alarmed, for there were sounds of commotion in the hall. A silence fell upon even the chief conspirator, when she felt that Mr. St. John was near—the possibility that her tactics might not be quite satisfactory alarmed her. She withdrew into a corner, instinctively getting the girls and a considerable mass of furniture between herself and any one coming in at the door.