Miss Mole by E.H. Young

Author:E.H. Young [Young, E.H.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Dean Street Press
Published: 2020-08-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

The arrival of Howard Corder unfortunately coincided with the arrival of Mr. Blenkinsop’s letter, and what should have been a glad little family gathering had Robert Corder’s views of the younger generation for its entertainment. Mr. Blenkinsop was the text of the discourse, but everyone felt that illustrations from the home circle might be supplied, and Wilfrid sat in lively, and Howard in patient, expectation of reproach. Mr. Corder spared them this, however, and, breaking off suddenly, he remarked with a smile, that he did not want to spoil Howard’s first evening at home.

Wilfrid twisted an eyebrow in Miss Mole’s direction and Howard looked steadily at his plate. He seemed to have all the patience the other Corders lacked and a capacity for being contented if he were given the chance.

‘Howard must tell us all the news of Oxford,’ his father said, generously resigning his position of spokesman.

‘Oh – it’s just the same as usual. We’ve had a lot of fog.’ Howard said, and suddenly, at a slight movement from the head of the table, Wilfrid and Ethel both began to speak at once.

Wilfrid waved a hand courteously. ‘Go on. Your turn.’

‘Oh, it’s nothing. I was just going to say it’s funny you should have had that letter from Mr. Blenkinsop –’

‘Funny!’ Robert Corder exclaimed.

‘I mean – queer, because I’ve had one from Patsy Withers. She doesn’t want to help me with the Club any longer.’

‘Indeed? Well, no doubt Miss Withers has very good reasons for her decision and I can see no likeness between her and Mr. Blenkinsop.’

‘Oh, no!’ Ethel agreed eagerly, ‘but she did promise to help, and now she says Wednesday evening doesn’t suit her. Oh! Perhaps she likes going to the week-night service.’

‘That would be very strange,’ her father said bitingly. ‘As a matter of fact, she was there last time. I told you it was a mistake to have Wednesday for the Club.’

‘But the girls wanted it then, and the Club’s for the girls.’

‘Then you must be prepared to lose your helpers.’

‘I should think you’d be glad,’ said Ruth. ‘I hate Patsy Withers.’

‘Ruthie, Ruthie!’

‘I do,’ Ruth said stubbornly. ‘She’s like barley sugar, yellow and squirmy, and her voice is like it too, all sweet and waggly, and she talks to me as if I’m about six.’

‘If you were six I should send you to bed,’ said her father. ‘I won’t have such remarks made at my table.’

‘But you were making them yourself about Mr. Blenkinsop,’ Ruth said sullenly.

‘That’s a very different matter,’ he said, and he went out of the room. This was his usual way of emphasizing a disapproval which he forebore to express in words, and possibly he believed it left his family depressed. Ethel, indeed, looked frightened, and Ruth looked glum until her next speech sent Wilfrid into a roar of laughter.

‘I don’t think it’s good for people to be ministers,’ she said, and Ethel cried, ‘Oh, hush, Wilfrid, hush! Father will hear you. And it’s very wrong of you, Ruth, to say such things.

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