Read The Nine Tailors for Free Online Page B

done it, and it couldn’t have been better done.”
    “Eh!” admitted Mr. Lavender, “it was none so bad.” A slow toothless grin overspread his countenance. “Yes, we done it. How did it sound from down below, sir?”
    “Fine,” said the Rector. “As firm and true as any ringing I have ever heard. Now you must all be wanting your breakfasts. It’s all ready for you at the Rectory. Well now, Wally, you can call yourself a real ringer now, can’t you? You came through it with very great credit—didn’t he, Hezekiah?”
    “Fair to middlin’,” said Mr. Lavender, grudgingly. “But you takes too much out o’ yourself, Wally. You’ve no call to be gettin’ yourself all of a muck o’ sweat that way. Still, you ain’t made no mistakes, an’ that’s something, but I see you a mumblin’ and countin’ to yourself all the time. If I’ve telled yew once I’ve tolled yew a hundred times to keep your eye on the ropes and then you don’t need—”
    “There, there!” said the Rector. “Never mind, Wally, you did very well indeed. Where’s Lord Peter—Oh! there you are. I’m sure we owe you a great deal. Not too fatigued, I hope?”
    “No, no,” said Wimsey, extricating himself from the congratulatory handshakes of his companions. He felt, in fact, exhausted to dropping-point. He had not rung a long peal for years, and the effort of keeping alert for so many hours had produced an almost intolerable desire to tumble down in a corner and go to sleep. “I—ah—oh—I’m perfectly all right.”
    He swayed as he walked and would have pitched headlong down the steep stair, but for the blacksmith’s sustaining arm.
    “Breakfast,” said the Rector, much concerned, “breakfast is what we all want. Hot coffee. A very comforting thing. Dear me, yes, I for one am looking forward to it very much. Ha! the snow has ceased falling. Very beautiful, this white world—if only there were not a thaw to follow. This will mean a lot of water down the Thirty-foot, I expect. Are you sure you’re all right? Come along, then, come along! Why, here is my wife—come to chide my tardiness, I expect. We’re just coming, my dear—Why, Johnson, what is it?”
    He addressed a young man in chauffeur’s livery who was standing at Mrs. Venables’ side. Mrs. Venables broke in before he could reply. “My dear Theodore—I have been saying, you can’t go just yet. You must have something to eat—”
    Mr. Venables put the interruption aside with an unexpected, quiet authority.
    “Agnes, my dear, permit me. Am I wanted, Johnson?”
    “Sir Henry sent me to say, sir, that the mistress was very bad this morning, and they’re afraid she’s sinking, sir, and she is very anxious to receive the Sacrament if you could see your way—”
    “Good Heavens!” exclaimed the Rector. “So ill as that? Sinking? I am terribly grieved to hear it. Of course, I will come immediately. I had no idea—”
    “No more hadn’t any of us, sir. It’s this wicked influenza. I’m sure nobody ever thought yesterday—”
    “Oh, dear, oh, dear! I hope it’s not as bad as you fear! But I mustn’t delay. You shall tell me about it as you go. I will be with you in one moment. Agnes, my dear, see that the men get their breakfast and explain to them why I cannot join them. Lord Peter, you must excuse me. I shall be with you later. Bless my heart! Lady Thorpe—what a scourge this influenza is!”
    He trotted hurriedly back into the church. Mrs. Venables looked ready to cry, between anxiety and distress.
    “Poor Theodore! After being up all night—of course he has to go, and we ought not to think about ourselves. Poor Sir Henry! An invalid himself! Such a bitter morning, and no breakfast! Johnson, please say to Miss Hilary how sorry I am and ask if there is anything I can do to help Mrs. Gates. The housekeeper, you know, Lord Peter—such a nice woman, and the cook away on holiday, it does seem so hard. Troubles never come singly. Dear me, you must