“And Ruth?”
“Ruth?” Hannah repeated.
“Have you forgotten that she is at the school concert tonight? Or did you remember it very well?”
“Very well,” Hannah replied.
“I see. Well, Miss Mole, there is, of course, no objection to your having visitors, as long as they don’t interfere with your duties, but I thought it was understood that you were to fetch Ruth.”
To be attacked on the subject of her duties which were always punctiliously fulfilled, for, as Wilfrid said, she had a professional conscience, to receive suggestions that she was neglecting Ruth, was more than Miss Mole could bear, and she made no effort to keep the anger out of her voice as she replied quickly, “Then you made a mistake. Wilfrid offered to fetch her for me.”
“That was very obliging of Wilfrid,” Robert Corder said smoothly, “but I don’t care to have my daughter’s safety dependent on a young man who isn’t scrupulous to keep his promises.”
“It isn’t too late to start now,” Hannah said, with a glance at the clock.
“Then, Miss Mole, I shall be glad if you will go.”
“I’m sorry to refuse, Mr. Corder, but I couldn’t insult Wilfrid like that.”
“Wilfrid?” he said coldly.
“That is what he has asked me to call him. I don’t distrust him and I won’t behave as if I do.”
“But, at my request—”
Miss Mole shook her head, smiling as she would have smiled at a child who could not be blamed for his stupidity. “I wouldn’t kick a puppy at anyone’s request.”
“Puppy is a good word in this connection,” he said, and Hannah realised that his temper was very bad and that though he seemed impervious to anything but petty slights to his own dignity, he might have troubles worthy of sympathy.
“It was an unfortunate word to use,” she said lightly. “I meant any young thing. Wilfrid will keep his promise, Mr. Corder, and Ruth will like being fetched by him. It isn’t every girl who has such a handsome cousin. And,” she went on quickly, as he frowned, “your daughter was anxious that the house should not be left.”
“And you were anxious to see Mr. Blenkinsop.”
Miss Mole was deaf to this interruption. “She didn’t want Doris and her young man to be waiting about in the street. I should have thought the atmosphere of Beresford Road would have a sobering effect, much more sobering than the Downs, where I suppose they wander.”
“Miss Mole, I dislike this sort of talk.”
“But they do it, you know.”
“And I was not aware that Doris,” he overcame his repugnance with difficulty, “that Doris had what you call a young man.”
“Yes, he’s quite young,” Hannah said simply. “He’s the grocer’s assistant. You see, when he called for orders—”
“I don’t wish to hear about it. I dislike the idea very much.”
“Yes, Doris isn’t particularly attractive, is she? I shouldn’t have chosen her myself, but there’s no accounting for tastes, as they say, and I think she has improved a little under the influence of the grocer’s assistant’s love. And he’s highly respectable—at least, they’ve both told me so, and the grocer himself corroborates. I’ve made enquiries. He’s rather a friend of mine.”
“You seem to make friends rather easily, Miss Mole.”
“Yes, isn’t it lucky for me?” she said brightly, and then, as though she noticed his clouded brow for the first time, she asked in her softest voice. “Have I done anything to annoy you?” and immediately perceived that the frontal attack was the one for Robert Corder. A patch of red showed on each cheek and he fidgeted with the papers on his desk.
“I did hear something tonight which disturbed me a little,” he confessed, and Hannah, glad that he was not looking at her, braced herself for the shock. “And then,” he went on, “I am disappointed in Samuel Blenkinsop. He neglects the chapel, but he visits my house when I am out of it and goes off without a word. I don’t understand it.”
Hannah’s body slackened suddenly and she found that all her muscles ached. “Do you mind if I sit down?” she asked.
“I shan’t keep you a moment, Miss Mole, but yes, sit down, of course. Can you tell me, as you seem so intimate with Blenkinsop, whether I have offended him? I know,” he said, smiling faintly, “that my views sometimes alarm the more timid spirits in my congregation, but I always welcome candid criticism.”
Gazing at Robert Corder, Hannah forgot Mr. Blenkinsop. This self-deception which, she could well believe, was sincere, had startled her into the fear that her opinion of herself was just as fond, and the world she had made for herself, in which she was wise and witty, of wide sympathies and an understanding heart, would have slipped silently into ruins if she had not found a desperate strength with which to prop it up. If it did not stand, she would go under with it; she would have to admit that Robert Corder was wrong in his dislike of her and one of her pleasures was the conviction that he was right, that she was too subtle for his comfort and too clear-sighted. It would be terrible to have to own that, however much they might differ, they had this bond of seeing themselves as no other person could.
“What is the matter, Miss Mole?” he asked suavely.
“I was—thinking,” Hannah said.
“You are doubting,” he said helpfully, “whether you are justified in telling me.”
“No,” said Hannah, “I’m afraid I’d forgotten all about Mr. Blenkinsop.”
“In other words, you were not listening to what I said.”
“Indeed I was, but it made me think of other things.” She looked at him with the bright intelligence she kept for him. “Isn’t that what conversation is for?”
“Not as I understand it,” he replied, and Hannah was smilingly silent.
“And now,” she said, feeling that this was her moment, while he was angry, “I hope you’ll tell me what you’ve heard about me.
