Whiteoak Harvest. Mazo de la Roche
led her along the aisle. He saw people looking at her, surprised and pleased. Meg stared out from the Vaughan pew, round-eyed with amazement. Renny put Adeline in the Whiteoak pew beside Piers, Pheasant, and their boys. Piers gave Renny an amused look. Pheasant and the boys were in a flutter. It took them a moment to decide on the best place for Adeline to sit. Miss Pink began to play the organ.
A live bee was clinging to the rector’s surplice as he was about to put it on. He carried it, resting with spread wings on the snowy surplice, to an open window and flicked it with his finger out into the sunshine. He found Renny with compressed lips, struggling to get into his surplice. Ever since the building of the church a Whiteoak had acted as lay reader.
“Why, my dear fellow, what has happened? Your arm — nothing serious, I hope.” But though his tone expressed solicitude he felt no real concern. He could scarcely have recalled the various occasions when his lay readers had appeared before him, in slings, in bandages, or limping. They spent their days among horses. They were headlong. They were always getting hurt. And they were a tough-fibred lot. He had seen old Mrs. Whiteoak, rather than miss the christening of one of her grandchildren (Piers, he thought it was), carried to the family pew by a sweating coachman and groom, when a fall from a horse had done something to her kneecap. She had never ridden again. She must have been nearly eighty-three.
“Collarbone,” returned Renny laconically, “broken.”
“Tch — is it very painful?”
“Only when I aggravate it.”
Mr. Fennell noticed then that his usually high-coloured face was pale, that his eyes had not their customary brightness. “I’m afraid you had a bad night with it.”
“Rather. It’s time we went in.”
One arm only projected from his surplice. His other side looked oddly bulky. Against the dark wood of the chancel his sculptured head stood out incisively. In the hymn, “The strife is o’er,” his voice dominated the rather feeble choir of four men and seven women who, always defeated in their contests with the vigorous Whiteoak voices, felt themselves defeated before they had opened their mouths.
In the general confession Renny looked from the shelter of his hand at Adeline. She was being good. He felt his heart strengthen in pride. She was a fine child and the spit of old Gran. He had begot her. Alayne had borne her. Together they had produced that rosy flower of a child. Then the thought of all that had transpired the night before came to taunt his spirit. It was characteristic of him that he scarcely gave a thought to Clara. His mind was concentrated on Alayne’s alienation from him. His mind dwelt on it darkly. There was projected into it a scene of passion in which he would forcibly overcome her antagonism, but he thrust this from him. His lips mechanically repeated the words of the confession. “We have erred and strayed from Thy ways like lost sheep…. We have left undone those things which we ought to have done; and we have done those things which we ought not to have done….” Alayne’s face was blurred. In its place came a picture of Wakefield in a monk’s robe, with shaven crown. Wake, whose engagement to Pauline had seemed so promising of happiness — Wake, his boy! He remembered his delicacy — the nights he had sat up with him, the fear that he would not rear him. The fear that he would be a poet like Eden. Then his pride in the boy’s growing strength, in his eagerness to work, to make a place for himself. It had been a sting to his pride to see Wake’s name over a filling station but — now how desirable that seemed when Wake wanted to give up his name and become Brother Something or Other! Well — he would see the priest and do everything in his power to prevent it! He felt a sudden hot anger at the boy. The young shuffler — to jilt Pauline for a whim! He had always been full of whims — a spoilt boy. What was it Gran had said? “The ingratitude of the spoilt child is sharper than the stallion’s tooth.” He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he remained kneeling after the others had risen, his face shaded by his hand. He realized what had happened and stood up imperturbably. His vigorous voice was heard — “Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Ghost.” Adeline dropped her penny and it rolled beneath the seat.
When the time of the First Lesson came, Renny mounted the steps behind the brass eagle. Meg watched him with sisterly pride. She thought — “How nice and white his surplice looks! Of course, they were all laundered at Eastertide. It makes such a difference. And the Easter flowers are lovely. I do like things bright and cheerful about a church because it’s naturally rather a depressing place. What was he reading?”
“Speak, ye that ride on white asses, ye that sit in judgment and walk by the way…. Awake, awake, Deborah: awake, awake, utter a song: arise, Barak, and lead thy captivity captive, thou son of Abinoam.”
She thought — “I always did like this Lesson, though how people went through the things they did then, I can’t imagine … strange how Alayne let him come to church alone, when it is a wife’s duty to encourage her husband in any religion he may have…. To think that Maurice would come with those old tight trousers on! His legs look ridiculous.”
Maurice thought — “He looks seedy this morning. I suppose it’s his arm. But he wouldn’t stay away — no, not if he’d cracked both collarbones! Churchgoing is more and more of a bore to me. I wish Meggie cared no more for church than Alayne does. I’d be satisfied to stay at home with the Sunday papers. Darling little Patience — drinking in every word! Wonder what she makes of it.”
“They fought from heaven; the stars in their courses, fought against Sisera. The river of Kishon swept them away, that ancient river, the river Kishon. O my soul, thou hast trodden down strength.”
Maurice thought — “Why is Meggie staring at my trousers? Oh yes, they’re the tight ones! But I must have another turn out of them.” He tried to make his legs look smaller.
Patience thought — “I like to watch Uncle Renny’s face when he’s talking. He does nice things with it that make me want to hug him. I don’t care a bit what he’s reading. I just like watching his face. I wonder what it feels like to have a broken collarbone. Very disagreeable, I expect. I hope I don’t fall off my pony and get anything broken. What lots and lots of flowers there are! What funny ears that old gentleman in front has! I think they might have put Adeline in the pew with me. Why is Mummie looking at Daddy’s trousers?” She too peered at them.
The voice, in a level tone, proceeded — “Then were the horse hoofs broken by the means of the prancings, the prancings of their mighty ones.”
Piers thought — “I don’t see how that could be. I’ve seen a good many horses plunge about in my time but I’ve never known them break their hoofs doing it. I wish Pheasant would stop fussing over the children. It only makes them fidget more. I guess the best thing to do is to put Adeline at the end of the pew. Lord, I hope she goes to sleep during the sermon!” He moved Adeline to the place next the aisle. She was delighted and gave him a look of beaming gratitude before she began to loll over the end of the pew and try to see what was going on along the aisle.
“Blessed above women shall Jael the wife of Heber the Kenite be, blessed shall she be above women in the tent. He asked water, and she gave him milk; she brought forth butter in a lordly dish. She put her hand to the nail, and her right hand to the workmen’s hammer; and with the hammer she smote Sisera, she smote off his head, when she had pierced and stricken through his temples.”
Pheasant thought — “Those were the days! If a woman didn’t like the way a man behaved she hit him on the head with a hammer. They talk a lot about the new freedom of women, but I don’t see it…. Renny is almost handsome this morning. It suits him to look pale and tired. He has such good bones in his face. Adeline is surprised to see him up there in a surplice but she’s awfully good. I rather wish I had a little girl. Perhaps the next…. No, no, I don’t want to go through that again! Please, God, don’t let there be a next! Not that I don’t love all my little children — but I did mind having them — especially young Philip who was so robust…. Mooey has a funny expression. I wonder what he’s thinking.”
Mooey was thinking — “That was a hard tumble the grey pony gave me yesterday. I feel more and more sore, the longer I sit. I’m afraid of the grey pony