The Greatest Works of E. F. Benson (Illustrated Edition). E. F. Benson
knew how rare!) believer.
"I am in such a difficult position," she said. "I think I ought to let it be understood that there is no truth whatever in such an idea, however much truth there may be. And did dear Mr Wyse believe — in fact, I know he must have, for he wrote me, oh, such a delicate, understanding note. He, at any rate, takes no notice of all that is being said and hinted."
Miss Mapp was momentarily conscious that she meant precisely the opposite of this. Dear Mr Wyse did take notice, most respectful notice, of all that was being said and hinted, thank goodness! But a glance at Mrs Poppit's fat and interested face showed her that the verbal discrepancy had gone unnoticed, and that the luscious flavour of romance drowned the perception of anything else. She drew a handkerchief out, and buried her thoughtful eyes in it a moment, rubbing them with a stealthy motion, which Mrs Poppit did not perceive, though Diva would have.
"My lips are sealed," she continued, opening them very wide, "and I can say nothing, except that I want this rumour to be contradicted. I dare say those who started it thought it was true, but, true or false, I must say nothing. I have always led a very quiet life in my little house, with my sweet flowers for my companions, and if there is one thing more than another that I dislike, it is that my private affairs should be made matters of public interest. I do no harm to anybody, I wish everybody well, and nothing — nothing will induce me to open my lips upon this subject. I will not," cried Miss Mapp, "say a word to defend or justify myself. What is true will prevail. It comes in the Bible."
Mrs Poppit was too much interested in what she said to mind where it came from.
"What can I do?" she asked.
"Contradict, dear, the rumour that I have had anything to do with the terrible thing which might have happened last week. Say on my authority that it is so. I tremble to think" — here she trembled very much — "what might happen if the report reached Major Benjy's ears, and he found out who had started it. We must have no more duels in Tilling. I thought I should never survive that morning."
"I will go and tell Mr Wyse instantly — dear," said Mrs Poppit.
That would never do. True believers were so scarce that it was wicked to think of unsettling their faith.
"Poor Mr Wyse!" said Miss Mapp with a magnanimous smile. "Do not think, dear, of troubling him with these little trumpery affairs. He will not take part in these little tittle-tattles. But if you could let dear Diva and quaint Irene and sweet Evie and the good Padre know that I laugh at all such nonsense —"
"But they laugh at it, too," said Mrs Poppit.
That would have been baffling for anyone who allowed herself to be baffled, but that was not Miss Mapp's way.
"Oh, that bitter laughter!" she said. "It hurt me to hear it. It was envious laughter, dear, scoffing, bitter laughter. I heard! I cannot bear that the dear things should feel like that. Tell them that I say how silly they are to believe anything of the sort. Trust me, I am right about it. I wash my hands of such nonsense."
She made a vivid dumb-show of this, and after drying them on an imaginary towel, let a sunny smile peep out of the eyes which she had rubbed.
"All gone!" she said; "and we will have a dear little party on Wednesday to show we are all friends again. And we meet for lunch at dear Mr Wyse's the next day? Yes? He will get tired of poor little me if he sees me two days running, so I shall not ask him. I will just try to get two tables together, and nobody shall contradict dear Diva, however many shillings she says she has won. I would sooner pay them all myself than have any more of our unhappy divisions. You will have talked to them all before Wednesday, will you not, dear?"
As there were only four to talk to, Mrs Poppit thought that she could manage it, and spent a most interesting afternoon. For two years now she had tried to unfreeze Miss Mapp, who, when all was said and done, was the centre of the Tilling circle, and who, if any attempt was made to shove her out towards the circumference, always gravitated back again. And now, on these important errands she was Miss Mapp's accredited ambassador, and all the terrible business of the opening of the store-cupboard and her decoration as M.B.E. was quite forgiven and forgotten. There would be so much walking to be done from house to house, that it was impossible to wear her sable coat unless she had the Royce to take her about . . .
The effect of her communications would have surprised anybody who did not know Tilling. A less subtle society, when assured from a first-hand, authoritative source that a report which it had entirely refused to believe was false, would have prided itself on its perspicacity, and said that it had laughed at such an idea, as soon as ever it heard it, as being palpably (look at Miss Mapp!) untrue. Not so Tilling. The very fact that, by the mouth of her ambassador, she so uncompromisingly denied it, was precisely why Tilling began to wonder if there was not something in it, and from wondering if there was not something in it, surged to the conclusion that there certainly was. Diva, for instance, the moment she was told that Elizabeth (for Mrs Poppit remembered her Christian name perfectly) utterly and scornfully denied the truth of the report, became intensely thoughtful.
"Say there's nothing in it?" she observed. "Can't understand that."
At that moment Diva's telephone bell rang, and she hurried out and in.
"Party at Elizabeth's on Wednesday," she said. "She saw me laughing. Why ask me?"
Mrs Poppit was full of her sacred mission.
"To show how little she minds your laughing," she suggested.
"As if it wasn't true, then. Seems like that. Wants us to think it's not true."
"She was very earnest about it," said the ambassador.
Diva got up, and tripped over the outlying skirts of Mrs Poppit's fur coat as she went to ring the bell.
"Sorry," she said. "Take it off and have a chat. Tea's coming. Muffins!"
"Oh, no, thanks!" said Mrs Poppit. "I've so many calls to make."
"What? Similar calls?" asked Diva. "Wait ten minutes. Tea, Janet. Quickly."
She whirled round the room once or twice, all corrugated with perplexity, beginning telegraphic sentences, and not finishing them: "Says it's not true — laughs at notion of — And Mr Wyse believes — The Padre believed. After all, the Major — Little cock-sparrow Captain Puffin — Or t'other way round, do you think? — No other explanation, you know — Might have been blood —"
She buried her teeth in a muffin.
"Believe there's something in it," she summed up.
She observed her guest had neither tea nor muffin.
"Help yourself," she said. "Want to worry this out."
"Elizabeth absolutely denies it," said Mrs Poppit. "Her eyes were full of —"
"Oh, anything," said Diva. "Rubbed them. Or pepper if it was at lunch. That's no evidence."
"But her solemn assertion —" began Mrs Poppit, thinking that she was being a complete failure as an ambassador. She was carrying no conviction at all.
"Saccharine!" observed Diva, handing her a small phial. "Haven't got more than enough sugar for myself. I expect Elizabeth's got plenty — well, never mind that. Don't you see? If it wasn't true she would try to convince us that it was. Seemed absurd on the face of it. But if she tries to convince us that it isn't true — well, something in it."
There was the gist of the matter, and Mrs Poppit proceeding next to the Padre's house, found more muffins and incredulity. Nobody seemed to believe Elizabeth's assertion that there was "nothing in it". Evie ran round the room with excited squeaks, the Padre nodded his head, in confirmation of the opinion which, when he first delivered it, had been received with mocking incredulity over the crab. Quaint Irene, intent on Mr Hopkins's left knee in the absence of the model, said: "Good old Map: better late than never." Utter incredulity, in fact, was the ambassador's welcome . . . and all the incredulous were going to Elizabeth's party on Wednesday.
Mrs Poppit had sent the Royce home for the last of her calls, and staggered up the hill