Appleby at Allington by Michael Innes Page A

the open air, Mr Scrape gave no hint of anything manic in his personality. His manner was bland. And he addressed Appleby, to whom he had already been introduced, in so soothing a fashion that Appleby almost taxed himself with evincing some unmotivated nervous agitation.
    ‘My dear Sir John, I quite failed to say how kindly I take your supporting our small annual occasion. Lady Appleby, I hope you are not too fatigued, and that you have not overburdened yourself with our good friends’ jellies and jams. My own little contribution is now half-made, but presently I must return to the marquee for one further session. A beautiful afternoon, but almost oppressively warm. Might we take a stroll, perhaps, by the side of the lake – and towards the castle? Mr Allington very kindly allows the older village boys to swim there, and I think it may be wise just to survey the scene. One does not want Mr Allington’s hospitality abused by anything rowdy. Innocent skylarking is in order, of course. They may not, by the way, all have bathing-slips, Lady Appleby.’
    ‘I don’t think I’ll feel myself disturbed.’
    ‘Quite so, quite so. How fortunate we are that there is so little unwholesome prudery nowadays! And the human body is a temple, after all. Lady Appleby, pray remark the step.’
    Judith remarked the step. It seemed cooler by the lake, and a little breeze appeared to be moving with the slow current from its farther end. There were one or two small groups of people among the castle ruins; no doubt they were recuperating from the excitement of the fête. From somewhere ahead came sounds of shouting and splashing, and behind them they could still hear the unwearying efforts of Mr Goodcoal’s Public Address System.
    ‘How good it is of Mr Allington to let us intrude upon his privacy in this way!’ Mr Scrape said. He seemed given to pious ejaculation of this sort. ‘A man with a high sense of public duty, and always willing to give time and thought to his neighbours. It is a sign of true greatness, surely, when one of strong intellectual endowment has a care for trivial and humble things.’ Mr Scrape paused to assist Judith courteously over a low stile. ‘And so delightful a family! For nephews and nieces may be held to constitute a family, I think, when they are so closely attached to an uncle as in this instance. Sir John, pray avoid the cow-pat.’
    Appleby avoided the cow-pat. He hoped that Judith’s sense of the ridiculous was not going to prompt her to some unsuitable response to the small-talk of this terrible clerical toady. For that seemed to be what the Reverend Mr Scrape was. Indeed, it was almost possible to say that it was what Mr Scrape gave himself out to be. Appleby found himself wondering fleetingly whether there might not be something rather deep about the Vicar of Allington. But however that might be, Judith was fortunately behaving herself.
    ‘I’ve heard of Martin Allington,’ she said. ‘But it seems he hasn’t come.’
    ‘Mr Martin Allington is expected hourly.’ Mr Scrape gave a great effect of weight to this announcement. ‘Hourly,’ he repeated. ‘And I greatly hope it may be before our small festivities close. It is well known that he is to be Mr Allington’s heir. And this renders him doubly welcome among us.’
    ‘But some other relations have arrived? John and I haven’t met them yet.’
    ‘You will.’ Mr Scrape produced this with confidence and quiet fervour, rather as if he were offering ghostly assurance to a dying parishioner. ‘Miss Hope Allington, and also the Lethbridges and the Barfords with their delightful children, are already here. They are mingling with us in their customary unassuming way. And, as you know, Mr Allington invites us to meet his household over a glass of wine when all these good people have gone away. Not that one must think of hastening their departure. Only I shall be glad, I own, when there is an end to the musical entertainment provided by the