"No; that would be a pity. I wish Vera Beckley had been as nice as we thought she was at first. She would have been a nice friend for these girls. I never quite understood why she suddenly took to cutting us dead, and Mrs. Beckley left off asking us to the house, when they had asked us so often and we seemed real friends. I have sometimes thought of asking her. I am sure there is a misunderstanding, which could be cleared up."
The Vicar grew a trifle red. "You will not do anything of the sort," he said. "If the Beckleys can do without us we can do very well without them."
"You used to be so fond of Vera, Albert," said Mrs. Mercer reflectively, "and she of you. You often used to say it was like having a daughter of your own. I wonder what it was that made her turn like that."
"We were deceived in her, that was all," said Albert, who had recovered his equanimity. "She is not a nice girl. A clergyman has opportunities of finding out these things, and——"
"Oh, then there was something that you knew about, and that you haven't told me."
"I don't wish to be cross-examined, Gertrude. You must be content to leave alone the things that belong to my office. None of the Beckleys shall ever darken my doors again. Let that be enough. If we have to meet them sometimes at the Abbey we can be polite to them without letting it go any further. There are really very few people hereabouts whom I should like to see the Graftons make friends with, and scarcely any young ones. Denis Cooper is a thoughtful well-conducted young fellow, but he is to be ordained at Advent and I suppose he will not be here much. Rhoda and Ethel are nice girls too. I think a friendship might well be encouraged there. It would be pleasant for them to have a nice house like Abington to go to, and their seriousness might be a good thing for the Grafton girls, who I should think would be likely to be affected by their father's evident wealth. It is a temptation I should like to see them preserved from."
"Rhoda and Ethel are a little old for them."
"So much the better. Yes; that is a friendship that I think might be helpful to both parties, and I shall do my best to encourage it. I should like to see the Grafton girls thoroughly intimate at Surley Rectory before Mrs. Carruthers comes back. She has behaved so badly to the Coopers that she would be quite likely to prevent it if she were here, out of spite."
"Well, I must stand up a little for Mrs. Carruthers," said Mrs. Mercer. "Rhoda and Ethel are good girls, I know, and do a lot of useful work in the parish, but they do like to dominate everything and everybody, and it was hardly to be expected that Mrs. Carruthers in her position would stand it."
"I don't agree with you at all," said her husband. "She was a mere girl when she married and came to live at Surley Park; she is hardly more than a girl now. She ought to have been thankful to have their help and advice, as they had practically run the parish for years. Actually to tell them to mind their own business, and practically to turn them out of her house, over that affair of her laundry maid—well, I don't say what I think about it, but I am entirely on the side of Rhoda and Ethel; and so ought you to be."
"Well, I know they acted for the best; but after all they had made a mistake. The young man hadn't come after the laundry maid at all."
"So it was said; but we needn't discuss it. They were most forgiving, and prepared to be all that was kind and sympathetic when Mrs. Carruthers lost her husband; and how did she return it? Refused to see them, just as she refused to see me when I called on Cooper's behalf—and in my priestly capacity too. No, Gertrude, there is nothing to be said on behalf of Mrs. Carruthers. She is a selfish worldly young woman, and her bereavement, instead of inclining her towards a quiet and sober life, seems to have had just the opposite effect. A widow of hardly more than two years, she goes gadding about all over the place, and behaves just as if her husband's death were a release to her instead of——"
"Well, I must say that I think it was rather a release, Albert. Mr. Carruthers had everything to make life happy, as you have often said, but drink was his curse, and if he had not been killed he might have spoilt her life for her. You said that too, you know, at the time."
"Perhaps I did. I was terribly upset at the time of the accident. It seemed so dreadful for a mere girl to be left widowed in that way, and I was ready to give her all the sympathy and help I could. But she would have none of it, and turned out hard and unfeeling, instead of being softened by the blow that had been dealt her, as a good woman would have been. She might have reformed her husband, but she did nothing of the sort; and now, as I say, she behaves as if there was nothing to do in the world except spend money and enjoy one's self. She would be a bad influence for these young girls that are coming here, and I hope they will not have too much to do with her. If we can get them interested in good things instead of amusements, we shall only be doing our duty. Not that healthy amusement is to be deprecated by any means. It isn't our part to be kill-joys. But with ourselves as their nearest neighbours, and nice active girls like the Coopers not far off, and one or two more, they will have a very pleasant little society, and in fact we ought all to be very happy together."
"Yes. It is nice looking forward to having neighbours that we can be friends with. I do hope nothing will happen to make it awkward."
"Why should anything happen to make it awkward? We don't know much about the Graftons yet, but they seem to be nice people. At any rate we can assume that they are, until it is proved to the contrary. That is only Christian. Just because so many of the people round us are not what they should be is no reason why these new-comers shouldn't be."
"Oh, I am sure they are nice. I think I should rather like to go and tell Mrs. Walter and Mollie about them, Albert. It will be delightful for them to have people at the Abbey—especially for Mollie, who has so few girl friends."
"We might go over together," said the Vicar. "There are one or two little things I want Mollie to do for me. Yes, it will be nice for her, if the Grafton girls turn out what they should be. We shall have to give the Walters a little advice. They haven't been used to the life of large houses. I think they ought to go rather slow at first."
"Oh, Mollie is such a dear girl, and has been well brought up. I don't think she would be likely to make any mistakes."
"I don't know that she would. But I shall talk to her about it. She is a dear girl, as you say. I look upon her almost as a daughter, though she has been here such a short time. I should like her to acquit herself well. She will, I'm sure, if she realises that this new chance for making friends comes through us. Yes, let us go over to the cottage, Gertrude. It is early yet. We can ask Mrs. Walter for a cup of tea."
CHAPTER V
SETTLING IN
The Abbey was ready for occupation early in April. Caroline, Barbara, and Miss Waterhouse went down on Monday. Grafton followed on Friday for the week-end and took Beatrix with him. She had announced that the dear boy couldn't be left by himself in London, or he'd probably get into mischief, and she was going to stay and look after him. As she had thought of it first, she had her way. Beatrix generally did get her way, though she never made herself unpleasant about it. Nor did she ever wheedle, when a decision went against her, though she could wheedle beautifully.
If any one of the