Authors: Winifred Holtby
Caroline did not want to see her. In a day or two, she
felt, she would not mind answering questions; later she
could endure the unflinching catechism of efficient youth.
Just now, she could not bear it. She had not yet taught her
self to face the situation. How could she bear its exposure to
Eleanor's bright, candid gaze?
'How are you, dear? I haven't seen you for quite a long
time, though I'm sure I expect you're very busy even now
that you have finished with the college, haven't you?'
'Well, yes. That was partly what I wanted to see you
about.'
'Oh, yes. Well, now, let me see, have you had tea?'
'No, not yet. Can you give me a cup? I brought a cake
along. I generally descend upon you like a ravening wolf
and eat you out of house and home. But to-day I did
remember.'
She produced the cake from a box in her dispatch-case.
It was a handsome object, spangled with currants. Caroline
looked at it with wistful disapproval.
'Thank you, my dear. I've had tea myself, in fact I was
just going to clear up and sit down to some work I brought back from the office.'
'When I interrupted you? What a shame." But the girl's
eyes were twinkling, because she had seen Caroline asleep. Caroline's discomfort grew to positive dislike. Eleanor was
begging her to have another cup, moving deftly and neatly
from the table to the cupboard, cutting the cake, finding a
second cup and saucer. She could see the piles of unwashed
crockery on the shelf. She could see the disorder of the
room. Caroline hated untidiness as much as anyone. She
did not like to leave her cups unwashed and crumbs on her
cupboard shelf. But there were days when she felt too tired
to do anything but eat her meal and lie down on her bed,
mornings when 'doing the room' became an intolerable
burden. A business director, with heavy public responsi
bilities, should not have to wash up her own dinner and
clean her fireplace.
'I was sorry you couldn't come to that concert last week,'
said Eleanor, pouring fresh water into the teapot.
'Well, dear, it was
Passion
week, you see, and though I'm not so strict as I should
like
to be, there are some things one
likes
to do, aren't there? And a
secular
concert in
Lent
isn't
quite the thing, is it?'
'Oh, Lent,' repeated the girl carelessly. 'I'd forgotten.'
Caroline felt a sudden anger against such light indiffer
ence.
'I know, dear, that you don't
believe
in the Seasons of the Church, but to us who do, there is something very beautiful
and strengthening in the ordered procession of the year.
Life can be so very disordered and troublesome, but if we
submit to the pattern and discipline that the Church has
designed as an eternal order -' She was groping for words spoken in a sermon by Father Mortimer, and because she tried to quote her Friend's opinion, her colour rose and her
pulses fluttered.
'Oh, yes, I know all that,' said the girl. 'But I don't like
external order imposed on me arbitrarily from outside. I
like to make my own order.'
'You're very young and undisciplined, my dear.'
'Perhaps I am.' Eleanor paused, busy with the teapot.
'You will have another cup now it is here, won't you? Then
I'll wash up for both of us.'
'Oh, well, as it is there.' She did not want to give way to
the girl, but the hot tea steamed enticingly from the pot and
the cake allured her. 'Just
half a
cup, then - and ever such
a small slice.'
'You know,' Eleanor apologized, 'I'm sorry I upset you
about Lent. I didn't mean to sneer or anything. I think
sneering's beastly. But I can't help finding all that sort of
thing somehow unreal. The seasons of the churches and the consecration of Bishops, and all these quarrels between
Evangelicals and Anglo-Catholics, seem somehow so irrele
vant - artificially created difficulties. I
can
understand the worship of Absolute Perfection - if it exists - and the desire
to make reality in the noblest and strongest and loveliest
possible form. But I can't see what this has to do with tran
substantiation and the creeds and - I can't even see that the
belief in immortality matters very much. I used to think
about that desperately. But somehow -just lately - I seem
to have passed right through that desire and come out on the
other side. I don't even
want
anyone to go on living after
they are dead. I don't
want
any more than this life.'
'You don't want this, and you don't want that,' flared
Caroline. 'And you expect to find the universe and all
eternity and God Himself arranged just to suit what you
do
want. I lose patience with you, Eleanor, I do indeed, and
you a B.Sc. or nearly, and a very clever young woman, no
doubt.'
It was terrible to grow excited like this about nothing.
She must be calm. She must be tolerant. Eleanor had al
ways called herself an agnostic, poor Eleanor. One must be
sorry for agnostics and for all these poor young puzzled boys
and girls who did not realize what they were missing. Father
Lasseter and Father Mortimer would be patient. She sighed and looked across the table at Eleanor, who was crumbling her cake on to her plate and eating nothing. The girl looked less happy now. The flush had faded from her cheeks, and
Caroline noticed, as she had not noticed before, the shadows
under her eyes.
Caroline made an effort, coughed, and broke abruptly into another subject.
'Well, and what are you doing now, dear?' she asked.
The girl looked up almost gratefully, as though aware that
she had been let off lightly.
'Well, you know the course at the college came to an end
at Easter? We did an exam and apparently I didn't do so
badly. I should have been a fool if I did. It was easy stuff.
And I got Hugh to write me a letter to say I could do the laboratory work quite decently, and what with one thing
and another, they're probably going to give me a chance at
Perrin's - you know, they're the big people who work over
here connected with Brooks in the States - and there's a
chance - there's even a chance - that I might go to America
with Hugh. Hugh's trying to wangle it, and it would be the
most marvellous experience. And I
should see Jan, my brother. He's in Pennsylvania now - and I could study all
the American cinema and talkie processes. It would be
perfect.
And then I could come back here and - Oh, Cousin Caroline, wouldn't it be fun
-fun,
if I could one day be a big Business Magnate, like Brooks? There aren't nearly enough
women in big industrial positions. I
must
be rich by the time
I'm fifty - and then I'd go in for politics and really get what
I want - with money and power and authority behind me.
I don't mind starting at the beginning, but I
must
be a com
pany director some day.'
That brought Caroline to the point. She leant forward.
'My dear," she said. 'You can be a company director with
out waiting all those years and going to America.'
Eleanor shook her head. 'I wish I could. I'm horribly
impatient. But it can't as a rule be done. One must begin
at the bottom.'
'That's all you know!' cried Caroline happily. She was
triumphant again, feeling herself in her rightful place, a
distributor of largesse, a benefactress to youth. 'But supposing I offered you now - now, when you are only an inexperienced girl straight from a business college, what if I
offered you now a directorship in an
important
company - a
cinema company?'
'Why,' laughed the girl. 'I'd snap it up. You bet.'
'Well, my dear, you once did me a good turn, I'll admit it. Your investment of three thousand pounds helped to extri
cate me from a
delicate -
I won't say an awkward - but a
delicate
position. And now I am fortunate in being able to
recompense you by giving you your heart's desire.' Why
was the girl's expression so remote and puzzled? Caroline
smiled in the sure knowledge of her triumphant benefaction.
'I asked the Board of the Christian Cinema Company to-day
— only to-day, mark you — if they would approve of the
appointment of two new directors — Father Mortimer, my
dear, and yourself.'
She sat back in her chair and awaited Eleanor's thanks.
She watched for the girl's confused and inarticulate delight.
But instead of crying out with gratitude, Eleanor stared at
her with something like dismay.
'The Christian Cinema Company?' she repeated. 'Father
Mortimer - and me?'
'Father Mortimer - and you. There now! Of course I
know you're very young, Eleanor, and naturally they were
a little surprised, because of course it is a great honour, but
then I always say that the more you expect, the more you
get out of people. You have shown in a very
practical
way
your interest in the company. My fellow directors agree with me that at least your appointment will
hurt
no one. And it would be a wonderful experience for you.'
'Oh, thank you,' stammered Eleanor. 'Thank you very
much. But you know - I - I'm afraid it wouldn't do - it
wouldn't do at all.'
'Now, now. Don't be so modest.' It was tiresome of the
girl to take it like this. Caroline was too tired to contend
with doubts and difficulties. 'Don't put difficulties in the
way, dear.'
'But I'm afraid, you know - it isn't possible. I - I'd much
rather begin at the beginning in a firm like Perrin's - I'm
only just starting to learn what the business involves. Besides
. . .' As though seeking comfort in her perplexity, the girl lifted the lapel of her coat and pressed her face against the
pink roses.
A sudden intuition illuminated Caroline's mind.
'Is it because of Father Mortimer?' she asked. Good
heavens! Why had she not thought of that before? The
girl was probably in love with him. That would explain a dozen little things that had happened recently. It was quite
natural. What girl could avoid falling in love with so brill
iant and charming a young man? Poor Eleanor! That
would account for her oddness lately.