“She will give those poor women a worse time—­a dreadful time!” said Mrs Steele, with conviction.

He picked up his watering-pot in such a hurry as to spill a tenth or so of its contents into his shoes; swore under his breath; then laughed aloud.

“I’ll bet any money they’ll get upsides with her, all the same.  Lord! there may be fun!”

His wife eyed him as he emptied the watering-pot spasmodically over the flowers.

“As a rule you have so much more imagination than I. . . .  Yet by fits and starts you take this business as if it were a joke.  And it is War, you know.”

The Vicar turned away hurriedly, to fetch more water.

On the Sub-Committee for House to house Visiting—­the Relief
Committee, as it came to be called—­were elected: 

(1) For Polpier—­Mrs Polsue, Miss Alma Trudgian (in Mrs Polsue’s words, “a pitiful Ritualist, but well-meaning. She’ll give no trouble"), the Vicar, and Mr Hambly.

(2) For the country side of the parish—­Mr and Mrs Best, “with power to add to their number.”  On the passing of this addendum, Farmer Best uttered, apparently from the roof of his palate, a noise not unlike the throb of the organ under the dome of St Paul’s, and the mysterious words, “Catch me!”

Next was formed a Sub-Committee of Needle-Workers, to make hospital-shirts, knit socks, &c.  It included Miss Charity Oliver; and Mrs Steele undertook to act as Secretary and send out the notices.

—­Next, a Sub-Committee of Ways and Means, to collect subscriptions, and also to act as Finance Committee.  The Vicar, Mr Best, Mr Hambly, with Mr Pamphlett for Honorary Treasurer.  Mrs Pamphlett (a timid lady with an irregular catch of the breath), without pledging her husband, felt sure that under the circumstances he wouldn’t mind.  Then Dr Mant unfolded a scheme of Ambulance Classes.  He was one of those careless, indolent men who can spurt invaluably on any business which is not for their private advantage. (Everybody liked him; but he was known to neglect his own business deplorably.) He could motor over to Polpier and lecture every Saturday evening, starting forthwith.  Mrs Steele undertook to write to the Local Education Authority for permission to use the Council Schoolroom.

At this point the parlour-maid brought in the tea.

“I believe,” remarked Miss Oliver pensively, on the return journey, “I could take quite a liking to that woman if I got to know her.”

“She won’t give you the chance, then,” said Mrs Polsue; “so you needn’t fret.”

“No, I suppose not . . . in a fashion.  Still”—­Miss Oliver brightened—­“she proposed me on the Needlework Committee, and we’re to meet at the Vicarage every Wednesday.  She looked up at me a moment before mentioning my name, and smiled as nice as possible; you might almost say she read what was in my mind.”

“’Twould account for her smiling, no doubt.”