The Lions Share | Page 6

a quarrel
between himself and a Catholic priest from Ipswich who had instituted
a boys' summer camp on the banks of Mozewater near the village of
Moze. Until that quarrel, the exceeding noxiousness of the Papal
doctrine had not clearly presented itself to Mr. Moze. In such strange
ways may an ideal come to birth. As Mr. Moze, preoccupied and
gloomy once more, steered himself rapidly out of Moze towards the
episcopal presence, the image of the imperturbable and Jesuitical priest
took shape in his mind, refreshing his determination to be even with
Rome at any cost.

CHAPTER II
THE THIEF'S PLAN WRECKED
"The fact is," said Audrey, "father has another woman in the house
now."
Mr. Moze had left Miss Ingate in the study and Audrey had cautiously
rejoined her there.
"Another woman in the house!" repeated Miss Ingate, sitting down in
happy expectation. "What on earth do you mean? Who on earth do you
mean?"
"I mean me."
"You aren't a woman, Audrey."
"I'm just as much of a woman as you are. All father's behaviour proves
it."
"But your father treats you as a child."

"No, he doesn't. He treats me as a woman. If he thought I was a child
he wouldn't have anything to worry about. I'm over nineteen."
"You don't look it."
"Of course I don't. But I could if I liked. I simply won't look it because
I don't care to be made ridiculous. I should start to look my age at once
if father stopped treating me like a child."
"But you've just said he treats you as a woman!"
"You don't understand, Winnie," said the girl sharply. "Unless you're
pretending. Now you've never told me anything about yourself, and I've
always told you lots about myself. You belong to an old-fashioned
family. How were you treated when you were my age?"
"In what way?"
"You know what way," said Audrey, gazing at her.
"Well, my dear. Things seemed to come very naturally, somehow."
"Were you ever engaged?"
"Me? Oh, no!" answered Miss Ingate with tranquillity. "I'm vehy
interested in them. Oh, vehy! Oh, vehy! And I like talking to them. But
anything more than that gets on my nerves. My eldest sister was the
one. Oh! She was the one. She refused eleven men, and when she was
going to be married she made me embroider the monograms of all of
them on the skirt of her wedding-dress. She made me, and I had to do it.
I sat up all night the night before the wedding to finish them."
"And what did the bridegroom say about it?"
"The bridegroom didn't say anything about it because he didn't know.
Nobody knew except Arabella and me. She just wanted to feel that the
monograms were on her dress, that was all."
"How strange!"

"Yes, it was. But this is a vehy strange part of the world."
"And what happened afterwards?"
"Bella died when she had her first baby, and the baby died as well. And
the father's dead now, too."
"What a horrid story, Winnie!" Audrey murmured. And after a pause:
"I like your sister."
"She was vehy uncommon. But I liked her too. I don't know why, but I
did. She could make the best marmalade I ever tasted in my born days."
"I could make the best marmalade you ever tasted in your born days,"
said Audrey, sinking neatly to the floor and crossing her legs, "but they
won't let me."
"Won't let you! But I thought you did all sorts of things in the house."
"No, Winnie. I only do one thing. I do as I'm told--and not always even
that. Now, if I wanted to make the best marmalade you ever tasted in
your born days, first of all there would be a fearful row about the
oranges. Secondly, father would tell mother she must tell me exactly
what I was to do. He would also tell cook. Thirdly and lastly, dear
friends, he would come into the kitchen himself. It wouldn't be my
marmalade at all. I should only be a marmalade-making machine. They
never let me have any responsibility--no, not even when mother's
operation was on--and I'm never officially free. The kitchen-maid has
far more responsibility than I have. And she has an evening off and an
afternoon off. She can write a letter without everybody asking her who
she's writing to. She's only seventeen. She has the morning postman for
a young man now, and probably one or two others that I don't know of.
And she has money and she buys her own clothes. She's a very naughty,
wicked girl, and I wish I was in her place. She scorns me, naturally.
Who wouldn't?"
Miss Ingate said not a word. She merely sat with her