Read Online Appleby's Answer by Michael Innes - Free Book Online

explanation was she to give? She could hardly announce that she had come to Long Canings in the hope of more precisely acquainting herself with a maniacal streak in the composition of Captain A G de P Bulkington of ‘Kandahar’. For one thing, the Captain himself was now standing within a couple of yards of her, with an expression of vague puzzlement on his face. Perhaps he was merely waiting to take a civil farewell of his ghostly counsellor, and to put his pupils through the same obligatory routine. But perhaps he had dimly recognised Miss Pringle, and was determined not to go away until he had recalled where he had seen her before. Miss Pringle was not clear whether or not she wanted the next phase of the affair to inaugurate itself in that way.
    â€˜So good of you to come,’ the rector was saying, much as if he had been giving a party. ‘On such a fine morning, too.’
    These might have been judged inane remarks as addressed to a strange sheep which had presented itself, as it were, baaing at the fold. But Miss Pringle was not deceived. Dr Howard (she had now managed to glimpse the name on the church notice-board) was tall and dark, aquiline and ascetic; he was young rather than middle-aged; and although he hadn’t yet been recruited to the higher clergy it seemed probable that this might happen at any time. It was true that he had been a little astray in the matter of that first hymn, but absent-mindedness was probably licensed among bishops, just as it was among professors. Moreover Howard (as Miss Barbara Vanderpump, with her keen historical sense, would have pointed out to her friend at once) was a very grand English surname indeed. Miss Pringle responded to Dr Howard’s civilities graciously but unaffectedly. (These would be the words.) ‘I have always wanted to see this part of the country,’ she added vaguely, ‘and I shall take a little run through it this afternoon. I believe you have a most interesting White Horse near Calne.’
    â€˜Whites and bays and greys and roans and sorrels,’ Dr Howard said unexpectedly. ‘And all, it seems, extremely interesting. One hears a great deal about them in these parts. Sir Ambrose’ – he made a restrained gesture in the direction of the Big House – ‘has whole platoons of them. I always try to find him lessons in which something four-footed is getting around. “He saith to the war-horse ‘Ha-ha’” and that sort of thing. You would scarcely believe it, but it livens him up no end. Pity he can’t be told to read the hundred and forty-seventh psalm. “He hath no pleasure in the strength of an horse: neither delighteth he in any man’s legs.” I doubt whether Sir Ambrose would believe his eyes.’
    A narrow mind might have found some impropriety in a beneficed clergyman’s offering these pleasantries to a stranger. But Miss Pringle was impressed. Dr Howard had an air which made it all seem quite in order. And now he had turned to Bulkington.
    â€˜Good morning, Captain,’ he said, robustly rather than cordially. ‘These young men of yours going to be hunting this season? Cubbing, I suppose, due to start any day now.’
    â€˜Hope not, ’pon my soul, padre. Hard work must be the order of the day. Scholarship class, these two, you know. Not a doubt of it. Jenkins, Waterbird – pay your respects to the rector.’
    Jenkins and Waterbird, thus admonished, advanced and shook hands with what might have been called – it seemed to Miss Pringle – decently if inexpertly dissimulated hostility. They then stepped backwards, with that ghost of a glance between them.
    â€˜Must be getting along,’ Captain Bulkington said. ‘Set them to a spot of prep before lunch, eh? While Miss Pringle and I have a glass of madeira. Miss Pringle is lunching at the old shop. Can’t tempt you to come along, padre?’
    â€˜Thank you, but I must get back