The Pit Town Coronet Volume Ii Part 11

But the cousins were far too amused at the incident to come to his a.s.sistance. Georgie could not forbear a smile, while Lucy burst into inextinguishable peals of silvery laughter.

"She wants your blessing, Mr. Puffin, that's all," said Lucy at length.

"Then she should come to church, Miss Warrender," exclaimed Mr. Puffin, to whose hand the _bonne_ clung, alternately kissing it and gazing up at him with imploring eyes.

"She thinks you are a Catholic priest," exclaimed Lucy.

"This is too horrible," cried the Reverend Barnes Puffin, as he vainly struggled to release the imprisoned hand.

"Ah, _mon pere_," vociferated the _bonne_.

"Goodness me, she says I'm her father; pray explain, dear ladies. Is her mind affected?"

And then Miss Warrender did explain to her.

On hearing that the unhappy curate was not a priest of her own Church, but only, as Lucy had expressed it, a heretical Protestant pastor, Fanchette's demeanour changed altogether.

"_Ah, gredin, farceur, monsieur est en travesti. Saperlotte_," she added, and here she snapped her fingers in the astonished curate's face, and abruptly left the room.

The curate sank into a chair and wiped his brow with his pocket-handkerchief.

"Goodness me, ladies," he said, "what a terrible person! I a.s.sure you I didn't mean to exasperate her."

From that day Fanchette ceased her respectful obeisances to the curate, but his visits to The Warren, where he was always a welcome guest, became gradually more frequent.

It is human nature after all ever to strive after the impossible, and Mr. Puffin recognizing in Miss Warrender a young lady who was essentially of the world worldly, naturally determined to attempt her conversion. But the spirit of contrariety is ever strongly developed in the female breast. As the parson became more pertinacious, Miss Warrender, who was at first rather bored than otherwise by his eloquence, resolved upon reprisals.

"I'll bet you a new bonnet," she had said to Haggard, "that I make the Celibate propose to me."

"Not he, my dear," said Georgie's husband with a laugh. "Puffin's not altogether a fool after all; he's got the run of his teeth in this house, and he won't care to lose it by making an a.s.s of himself."

"My dear Miss Warrender, my husband's curate considers himself as vowed to heaven," said Mrs. Dodd, who was present.

"They all do, Mrs. Dodd, till they find metal more attractive. I daresay even Mr. Dodd considered himself at one time as vowed to heaven."

"There is no a.n.a.logy, Miss Warrender, between my husband's case and that of Mr. Puffin. When Mr. Dodd proposed to me, Miss Warrender, he did so as a beneficed clergyman; and he proposed to the daughter of a dignitary of the Church. Had Mr. Dodd been a curate, he would not have so far forgotten his position as to have been guilty of so presumptuous an act."

"But I'm only Squire Warrender's niece, Mrs. Dodd; there would be no presumption in my case."

"Don't buoy yourself up with false hopes, Lucy. Were Mr. Puffin to be guilty of such unseemly folly, it would be my duty, as his vicar's wife, to seriously remonstrate with him; and should he prove obdurate, even to dispense with his services. The position of a clergyman's wife, Lucy Warrender, is full of difficulty and responsibility," she added sententiously.

"That's what makes me long for it so, Mrs. Dodd. I yearn to feel myself lifted out of the common ruck of women."

"You are unmaidenly, Lucy Warrender," said the vicar's wife, instantly a.s.suming her favourite tone of a Lord Chief Justice.

Miss Hood smiled, for she felt that the badinage was sober earnest to Mrs. Dodd; but she made no remark, for Lucy was long ago out of leading strings.

When the vicar's wife reached her home, she sent for Mr. Puffin. After she had shaken hands with him, she came to the point at once.

"I trust you are comfortable here, Mr. Puffin," she said, "and that you find King's Warren a congenial sphere."

"I do indeed, dear madam," replied the curate. "We have already accomplished much, but there is yet an abundant field of work in the place. I am very happy here."

"I have a dreadful communication to make to you, Mr. Puffin. A member of the congregation has confided to me the disgraceful fact of her personal infatuation for my husband's curate."

"This is sad, Mrs. Dodd, this is very sad; but it is not wholly unexpected. Clergymen, as you are aware, dear madam, are constantly exposed to these annoyances in the course of their ministrations. You allude, I conclude, to the younger Miss Sleek. I have noticed latterly her marked a.s.siduity in attendance at church--the most unseasonable weather has failed to keep her away. I half feared that it would be so.

Alas, girls are apt to forget the priest in the man. But this is a new kind of experience to me, Mrs. Dodd, for I have found that they usually first confide their folly to the object of their aspirations."

"No, Mr. Puffin, it is not Miss Sleek to whom I allude; nothing would surprise me with regard to her. There is no folly that young persons in her cla.s.s of life might not be guilty of. It is not the younger Miss Sleek, though she is an ambitious girl, but the squire's near relative who has confessed a wicked pa.s.sion for my husband's curate."

"Gracious me," cried Mr. Puffin. "Can you possibly allude to young Mrs.

Haggard?"

"Mr. Puffin, you forget yourself. No, it is Miss Warrender who has confided to me her infamous secret."

Mr. Puffin turned pale, then he blushed to the roots of his hair; he sighed deeply, and then he simpered. The vicar's wife drummed impatiently upon the table.

"Oh, Mr. Puffin," she said, "you don't mean to say that you reciprocate this? How often have you protested to me that you were a Celibate, a priest; and now you do nothing but sit and sn.i.g.g.e.r. I'm grieved; I'm disappointed in you, Mr. Puffin."

"Dear Mrs. Dodd," said the poor parson, "your communication has taken me by surprise. At first it horrified me. I am a priest, Mrs. Dodd," he said, "it is true; but, alas, I also remember that I am a man." He buried his face in his hands.

Mrs. Dodd sat immovable, looking at the curate with an astonished gaze; and then she suddenly left the room and slammed the door violently.

The transformation was as thorough as it was sudden; the Reverend Barnes Puffin had entered that room the humble coadjutor of the vicar's wife; as he left it, he felt his soul soar into higher regions: as Orientals put it, "his head was touching the skies." Mrs. Dodd looked out of her breakfast room window to watch the departure of him who she mentally termed "the fallen man."

But the fallen man considerably astonished her by the change in his appearance. Mr. Puffin, who was accustomed to walk slowly and with downcast eyes, as became a celibate priest, now strode down the drive; he didn't walk, he strode. He swung his walking-stick defiantly in the air, and to her astonishment Mrs. Dodd perceived that, ere he left the place, he committed the brutal act of beheading one of her favourite poppies with a sort of swashbuckler-stroke that would have done credit to a Life Guardsman.

Flutter on, happy clerical b.u.t.terfly, your bliss will be of short duration; for that careful entomologist, Miss Lucy Warrender, is already preparing the sharp needle that shall transfix your little triumphant heart.

Puffin, as he pa.s.sed through the village, returned the many salutations he received with joyous bows, and the wiseacres noticed that his broad brimmed clerical hat was now worn with a triumphant c.o.c.k.

CHAPTER IX.

MR. PUFFIN HUNTS A b.u.t.tERFLY.

The Reverend John Dodd had been more than satisfied with his new curate.

At first the long ca.s.sock, the flowing robes, and the rather eccentric "make up" of the man had been a daily outrage to the vicar's idea of decency. Mr. Puffin was not the first curate in the vicar's experience who had sought notoriety by a fantastic dress; but Mr. Puffin worked hard in the parish, Mr. Puffin was eloquent, and the vicar felt certain that the Established Church in King's Warren was gaining ground. He was rather gratified than otherwise to hear that Mr. Puffin had begun to waver in his ideas about celibacy. Puffin as an engaged man might be somewhat less divine, but he would be a.s.suredly more human. Dodd himself didn't see why Mr. Puffin should not become the husband of Miss Warrender. Puffin was a clergyman, and a gentleman; and the Reverend John Dodd rubbed his hands as he thought of the inevitable struggle for mastery which would take place between the pair should the marriage ever come off. And after all, more unlikely things than this marriage had happened. Miss Warrender certainly had had her fling, but a girl can't go on having her fling for ever, and the vicar chuckled as he thought of Lucy as the Celibate's wife. Unconsciously perhaps the curate had a.s.sumed an air of superiority to his vicar, for as a Celibate he would naturally look down upon him as a being of a coa.r.s.er clay, a mere earthen pot; but this had only amused his good-natured chief, and the Reverend John Dodd smiled as he thought of the gentle vengeance he might have, when the enamoured Puffin should take him into his confidence.

He sat down to dinner in the best of tempers. When he perceived that he was to be regaled with a veal sweetbread with brown sauce, his eyes were lighted up with a merry twinkle. But he felt that there was something in the wind; he knew that that delectable propitiatory sacrifice was only offered to his critical palate on his birthday, when his wife was in a particularly good temper, or when she had a favour to ask. As he looked at the partner of his earthly joys, it was plainly apparent to him that Mrs. Dodd was ruffled; it was not his birthday, so he had a second helping of the delicacy and made up his mind to yield to the inevitable demand with the best possible grace. But not till they were alone did his wife unbosom herself.

"John," she said, "I've come to the conclusion that Mr. Puffin must leave us; a curate ceases to be of use in a parish the moment he makes himself ridiculous, and Mr. Puffin tells me that he is determined to make a fool of himself. I could have pa.s.sed over his peculiarities, John," she said, "and his eccentricities in dress; I could even have forgiven his long hair, in consideration of the immense amount of work he manages to get through; but he is about to render himself unsuitable.

I approve of ambition in a clergyman; my dear father is an ambitious man, and he has prospered, though not perhaps according to his great deserts; but worldly ambition, the thirst for gold, is unbecoming in a clergyman. To my mind, it is painfully apparent that Mr. Puffin, who ought to be actuated by far higher motives, is prepared to sacrifice himself to Lucy Warrender, who is a most objectionable young person, in order to secure at some future time the presentation to the living of King's Warren."

The vicar laughed.