(7/13) Affairs at Thrush Green by Miss Read

was belligerent in comparison. She set forth her own generosity, her anxiety to see the Lady Chapel furnished 'in a God-like manner', and hinted at the regrettable attitude taken up by Anthony Bull's successor both in his services and his dealings with parishioners. She trusted that the bishop would see fit to remind the present incumbent of his duties.
    'The cat!' fumed Dimity, throwing the letter across the table. 'To go behind your back like that! It is absolutely unforgivable, Charles! What will you do?'
    'Nothing in a hurry,' said her husband equably. 'I may say something I should regret later, and I don't want the dear bishop to be badgered any further with complaints about me.'
    'You are far too forgiving,' said Dimity.
    'I don't know about that.' He picked up the bishop's letter, and read it again.
    'You know, Dimity, it is really uncommonly nice of him to write so warmly. And in his own hand too!'
    'He's hardly likely to write in anybody else's,' retorted Dimity, with unusual tartness. She still smarted from the effect of Mrs Thurgood's outrageous behaviour, and was irritated too by Charles's deference, one might almost say awe, in his handling of the bishop's letter. In her opinion, Charles was quite as worthy as the bishop himself—probably a better man altogether when you considered his modesty and selflessness—and Dimity felt herself glowing with mingled righteous indignation and wifely devotion.
    'Well, I only hope I don't encounter Frances Thurgood in the next day or two,' she exclaimed. 'I don't think I could remain silent about such appalling behaviour.'
    The rector looked alarmed.
    'Oh, my dear, please don't fan the flames! The bishop is absolutely right to call this a trivial matter. I will speak to her privately before the week is out, but I beg you to say nothing, if you love me.'
    He looked so pink and agitated that Dimity's wrath faded, and she bent across the table to kiss his cheek.
    'I will do exactly as you say,' she promised him.

    Meanwhile, Albert Piggott had problems of his own.
    After his rebuff at the hands of Mr Jones, the landlord, he had almost decided to ignore Charlie's letter, and leave Nelly's future in the hands of the gods.
    But he reckoned without the loquacity of The Two Pheasants. It so happened that Ben Curdle called in for a pint soon after his father-in-law had departed.
    The landlord, still full of indignation at Albert's callousness, told Ben the story. Ben returned to his flat at the top of the Youngs' house to consult Molly on the matter, and that evening they went together to face the old man.
    He was surlier than ever, and obstinate with it.
    'She's been no wife to me,' he asserted. 'Why should I put myself out for her?'
    'Don't talk so daft!' said his daughter. 'She looked after you all the time she was here, and kept the place lovely. And cooked a treat! And what thanks did she get?'
    'She had me company. And me money,' growled Albert.
    'You listen to me, dad,' said Ben quietly, if anything happens to her you're going to regret it. And what's more, all Thrush Green is going to chuck it in your face. She's your wife, whatever she's done. You'd best get down there as fast as you can.'
    'And how am I going to get to Brighton, may I ask? And who pays the fare?'
    'We've been looking up ways and means. I can put you and your case on the morning coach at Lulling. It goes right up to Victoria Coach Station, and there's plenty of coaches direct from there to Brighton. You'd be with Nelly in a matter of hours.'
    Albert began to look cornered.
    'And Ben and I will pay the fare,' Molly promised him. 'We've talked it over, haven't we, Ben?'
    Her husband nodded loyally, and Albert looked more hopeful.
    'Well, I don't say as it might not be the right thing to do,' he admitted cautiously, 'but she's a fair old trollop, as well you know, and I don't reckon she deserves to see me again.'
    Molly privately thought that her father's remark could be construed in two ways, but prudently