Thyrza | Page 9

what seemed to be a small story-paper, or something of the kind,
in a wrapper. Mrs. Ormonde gave it her without asking any questions,
and, in the course of the morning, happening to see her reading it, she
went to look what the paper was. It proved to be an anti-Christian
periodical, and on the front page stood a woodcut offered as a
burlesque illustration of some Biblical incident. "Father always brings
it home and gives it me to read," said the child. "It makes me laugh!"'
'Probably she knew nothing of the real meaning of it all,' said Mr.
Newthorpe.
'On the contrary, she understood the tendency of the paper surprisingly
well; her father had explained everything to the family.'
'One of the interesting results of popular education,' remarked Mr.
Newthorpe philosophically. 'It is inevitable.'
'What did Mrs. Ormonde do?' Annabel asked.
'It was a difficult point. No good would have been done by
endeavouring to set the child against her father; she would be home
again in a fortnight. So Mrs. Ormonde simply asked if she might have
the paper when it was done with, and, having got possession, threw it
into the fire with vast satisfaction. Happily it didn't come again.'
'What a gross being that father must be!' Annabel exclaimed.
'Gross enough,' Egremont replied, 'yet I shouldn't wonder if he had
brains above the average in his class. A mere brute wouldn't do a thing
of that kind; ten to one he honestly believed that he was benefiting the
girl; educating her out of superstition.'
'But why should the poor people be left to such ugly-minded teachers?'
Annabel exclaimed. 'Surely those influences may be opposed?'
'I doubt whether they can be,' said her father. 'The one insuperable
difficulty lies in the fact that we have no power greater than
commercial enterprise. Nowadays nothing will succeed save on the

commercial basis; from church to public-house the principle applies.
There is no way of spreading popular literature save on terms of supply
and demand. Take the Education Act. It was devised and carried simply
for the reason indicated by Egremont's friend Dalmaine; a more
intelligent type of workmen is demanded that our manufacturers may
keep pace with those of other countries. Well, there is a demand for
comic illustrations of the Bible, and the demand is met; the paper exists
because it pays. An organ of culture for the people who enjoy
burlesquing the Bible couldn't possibly be made to pay.'
'But is there no one who would undertake such work without hope of
recompense in money? We are not all mere tradespeople.'
'I have an idea for a beginning of such work, Miss Newthorpe,' said
Egremont, in a voice rather lower than hitherto. 'I came here because I
wanted to talk it over.'
Annabel met his look for a moment, expressing all the friendly interest
which she felt. Mr. Newthorpe, who had been pacing on the grass,
came to a seat. He placed himself next to Paula. She glanced at him,
and he said kindly:
'You are quite sure you don't feel cold?'
'I dare say I'd better go in,' she replied, checking a little sigh as she
closed her magazine.
'No, no, don't go, Paula!' urged her cousin, rising. 'You shall have a
shawl, dear; I'll get it.'
'It is very warm,' put in Egremont. 'There surely can't be any danger in
sitting till it grows dark.'
This little fuss about her soothed Paula for a while.
'Oh, I don't want to go,' she said. 'I feel I'm getting very serious and
wise, listening to such talk. Now we shall hear, I suppose, what you
mean by your "local preacher"?'
Annabel brought a shawl and placed it carefully about the girl's
shoulders. Then she said to her father:
'Let me sit next to Paula, please.'
The change of seats was effected. Annabel secretly took one of her
cousin's hands and held it. Paula seemed to regard a distant object in
the garden.
There was silence for a few moments. The evening was profoundly
calm. A spirit of solemn loveliness brooded upon the hills, glorious

with sunset. The gnats hummed, rising and falling in myriad crowds
about the motionless leaves. A spring which fell from a rock at the foot
of the garden babbled poetry of the twilight.
'I hope it is something very practicable,' Annabel resumed, looking
with expectancy at Egremont.
'I will have your opinion on that. I believe it to be practical enough; at
all events, it is a scheme of very modest dimensions. That story of the
child and her paper fixed certain thoughts that had been floating about
in my mind. You know that I have long enough tried to find work, but I
have been misled by the common tendency of the time.