Read Online (3/13) News from Thrush Green by Miss Read - Free Book Online
Authors: Miss Read
Tags: Historical
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Dimity had made and privately thought quite adequate, for the sweet course.
'You wants more than that for men,' maintained Betty stoutly. 'No body to mousse. Men likes a bit of pastry.'
'There will be cheese and biscuits,' Dimity pointed out, 'if they are still hungry.'
'Not the same,' asserted Betty. 'Mrs Furze,' she added, referring to the she-dragon who had taught her all she knew, 'wouldn't dream of putting but the one sweet on the table.'
'Very well,' agreed Dimity. She knew when she was beaten. 'Certainly make an apple pie. I'm sure it will be delicious.'
The dinner table pleased even her over-anxious eye. She had polished the rector's silver candlesticks herself and the light of six candles fell upon the bowl of orange dahlias which formed the centrepiece. For once, the bleak lofty room looked warm and inviting. The carpet was thin and worn, the furniture shabby, but the kindly candlelight hid these things, and Dimity felt proud of her arrangements.
Dimity longed to furnish the rectory as she knew it should be furnished. It needed thick velvet curtains at the tall narrow windows to mitigate the draughts and the gauntness of design. It was a house which cried out for soft carpets and central heating, but there was no money for such luxuries on the rector's stipend, and Dimity loved him far too well to ask him for the impossible. The floors of the bedrooms and the long draughty passages were covered with the dark brown linoleum chosen by a predecessor of Charles Henstock's. It was badly worn, but gleamed with years of polishing. Nevertheless, it wrung Dimity's heart to see her beloved Charles walking barefoot on a winter's morning upon such an inhospitable surface. The few small rugs available lay like tiny rafts upon the glassy sea. Sometimes Dimity envied her husband his Spartan attitude to their surroundings, and there were times when she thought, with secret longing, of the small cosy bedroom under the thatched roof opposite, where she had slept snugly for so many years.
Eight people sat down to enjoy the leg of mutton. The guests were Edward and Joan Young, Doctor Lovell and his wife Ruth, Harold Shoosmith and the newcomer, Phil Prior.
Dimity had selected her visitors with considerable care. She wanted to introduce Mrs Prior to people much of her own age. The Lovells and Youngs were in their early thirties, but try as she might Dimity could find no unattached male of that age to balance her dinner table.
'What a blessing Harold is single,' she said to her husband whilst making her preparations. 'We could do with half a dozen more men really in Thrush Green. I mean, if one were going to have a really big affair it would be simple to find a dozen single women - Ella, Dotty, the three Lovelock sisters and so on - but where are the men? '
'Safely married,' replied Charles smugly. 'Like me. You can't have it both ways, my dear.'
'And even dear Harold is a little older than I really wanted,' mused Dimity to herself.
'He's no older than I am,' the rector pointed out mildly, and was amused to see the contrition on his wife's face as she strove to make amends.
In any case, thought Dimity, looking happily about her dinner table, Harold was easily the most handsome man there, and by far the best dressed. Why was it, she wondered, that young men these days appeared so scruffy compared with their elders? Their wives looked so pretty in their silk frocks; one sister in green and the other in striped grey and white, while the newcomer wore a softly-draped frock of very fine wool starred with tiny flowers. A Liberty print, guessed Dimity correctly, thinking how beautifully it set off the girl's dark looks.
She was more animated than Dimity had ever seen her. Among these old friends, so easy with each other, she showed no shyness.
'And how many committees do you find yourself on?' asked Harold.
'Why, none yet.'
'Amazing! I was on five before I'd been here a month,' said Harold. 'You see, your turn will come. Which
'You wants more than that for men,' maintained Betty stoutly. 'No body to mousse. Men likes a bit of pastry.'
'There will be cheese and biscuits,' Dimity pointed out, 'if they are still hungry.'
'Not the same,' asserted Betty. 'Mrs Furze,' she added, referring to the she-dragon who had taught her all she knew, 'wouldn't dream of putting but the one sweet on the table.'
'Very well,' agreed Dimity. She knew when she was beaten. 'Certainly make an apple pie. I'm sure it will be delicious.'
The dinner table pleased even her over-anxious eye. She had polished the rector's silver candlesticks herself and the light of six candles fell upon the bowl of orange dahlias which formed the centrepiece. For once, the bleak lofty room looked warm and inviting. The carpet was thin and worn, the furniture shabby, but the kindly candlelight hid these things, and Dimity felt proud of her arrangements.
Dimity longed to furnish the rectory as she knew it should be furnished. It needed thick velvet curtains at the tall narrow windows to mitigate the draughts and the gauntness of design. It was a house which cried out for soft carpets and central heating, but there was no money for such luxuries on the rector's stipend, and Dimity loved him far too well to ask him for the impossible. The floors of the bedrooms and the long draughty passages were covered with the dark brown linoleum chosen by a predecessor of Charles Henstock's. It was badly worn, but gleamed with years of polishing. Nevertheless, it wrung Dimity's heart to see her beloved Charles walking barefoot on a winter's morning upon such an inhospitable surface. The few small rugs available lay like tiny rafts upon the glassy sea. Sometimes Dimity envied her husband his Spartan attitude to their surroundings, and there were times when she thought, with secret longing, of the small cosy bedroom under the thatched roof opposite, where she had slept snugly for so many years.
Eight people sat down to enjoy the leg of mutton. The guests were Edward and Joan Young, Doctor Lovell and his wife Ruth, Harold Shoosmith and the newcomer, Phil Prior.
Dimity had selected her visitors with considerable care. She wanted to introduce Mrs Prior to people much of her own age. The Lovells and Youngs were in their early thirties, but try as she might Dimity could find no unattached male of that age to balance her dinner table.
'What a blessing Harold is single,' she said to her husband whilst making her preparations. 'We could do with half a dozen more men really in Thrush Green. I mean, if one were going to have a really big affair it would be simple to find a dozen single women - Ella, Dotty, the three Lovelock sisters and so on - but where are the men? '
'Safely married,' replied Charles smugly. 'Like me. You can't have it both ways, my dear.'
'And even dear Harold is a little older than I really wanted,' mused Dimity to herself.
'He's no older than I am,' the rector pointed out mildly, and was amused to see the contrition on his wife's face as she strove to make amends.
In any case, thought Dimity, looking happily about her dinner table, Harold was easily the most handsome man there, and by far the best dressed. Why was it, she wondered, that young men these days appeared so scruffy compared with their elders? Their wives looked so pretty in their silk frocks; one sister in green and the other in striped grey and white, while the newcomer wore a softly-draped frock of very fine wool starred with tiny flowers. A Liberty print, guessed Dimity correctly, thinking how beautifully it set off the girl's dark looks.
She was more animated than Dimity had ever seen her. Among these old friends, so easy with each other, she showed no shyness.
'And how many committees do you find yourself on?' asked Harold.
'Why, none yet.'
'Amazing! I was on five before I'd been here a month,' said Harold. 'You see, your turn will come. Which
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