“Find a man,” he ordered, “the one outside the Three Bells, and send him off at once. Unless I see to everything, there is always a muddle!”
Full justification for the issuing of this command was found when the man returned with the case; it had duly arrived by the mid-day train and would, he reported, have remained at the station until goodness knew when if he had not been sent to fetch it. The man offered to prise open the lid, and on seeing the contents made the announcement that the two shops of the village would not be best pleased to hear that goods similar to those which might have been purchased at their establishments had been imported from town. Asked by the anxious young hostess to give his own opinion, the man said he was all for liberty and freedom, and letting people do as they liked, but he felt bound to say that home industries ought to be patronised. He had often argued this in the Three Bells, and felt he ought not to say behind people’s backs anything he did not dare to speak in front of their faces.
“All the same,” he added, accepting the shilling, “I shall pop round in good time this evening. You can rely upon me. My word’s as good as me bond.”
Now the two maids began to fly to and fro. Now Mr. Gleeson set out chairs on the lawn at the back in preparation for an overflow meeting. Now furniture was moved and the pianoforte opened. Now one of the maids ran across to hire twenty cups and saucers, and returned from the shop with the message that only regular customers were obliged in this way; the cups and saucers could be purchased, or they could be let alone, but no third alternative existed. Mr. Gleeson went over his speech once more and, on the suggestion of his wife, introduced a more pronounced tone of geniality, leaving out some of the sterner views concerning the value of friendship. Mrs. Gleeson’s sketches were set in a good position. Mr. Gleeson tried “I am a Jolly Mariner,” and decided he had found himself in worse voice. At seven o’clock they were ready for the thirty-five guests, and Mr. Gleeson snatched a few moments to practise a smile of welcome, one that would indicate gratification without degenerating into a broad grin.
“We shall find them rather difficult at first,” he mentioned. “I must get you to help me, my dear, to make them feel thoroughly at home from the very outset. Wish you had thought to order some crackers.”
“Sorry!”
“In Stepney, if you remember, the pulling of these and the wearing of paper caps at once put everybody at their ease. What’s the time now?”
She exhibited her watch.
“Mary asked the constable just now whether anything of the kind had ever been arranged before and he said ‘No.’”
“Did he say anything else?” asked Mr. Gleeson.