The Bell by Iris Murdoch

quarters, he decided, and that bright room must be the kitchen. Toby had always been keen on scouting and tracking, and some instinct now made him approach quietly, padding with caution onto the round hard cobble stones and keeping well in the shadow as he came up close to the window. He had been right, it was the kitchen, a huge old kitchen with rough blackened walls and an immense open fireplace, now filled by an Aga cooker. The Aga must be working, since a hot blast of air came out of the open window, perceptible even in the warm night.
    A man came into view. It was Michael Meade, dressed in a blue and white striped apron. Toby was shocked at the apron, and conscience-stricken when he saw that Michael was stacking up cups and saucers in a tall wooden rack. He had quite forgotten to offer to wash up. At that moment the inner door opened and James Tayper Pace came in.
    â€˜Where’s the boy now?’ asked Michael.
    â€˜He’s up on the balcony,’ said James.
    Toby held his breath.
    â€˜Will you take him down?’ said Michael.
    â€˜I’d rather you did,’ said James. ‘You know what I think of this idea!’
    â€˜I’m sorry, James, I ought to have consulted you,’ said Michael, ‘but last week was frantic and it went right out of my head. In any case, I still think it’s worth trying. We needn’t make heavy weather of it. If the boy hates being there, or Nick is unpleasant to him, we’ll move him back to the house. But I’m certain it’ll be O.K. And it would relieve my mind if someone was there with Nick.’
    â€˜Why not send one of ourselves to keep an eye on Nick?’ said James.
    â€˜Precisely for that reason,’ said Michael, ‘that he’d know he was being kept an eye on. If we send the boy, Nick’ll feel responsible for him .’
    â€˜You think too well of Nick, and that’s the plain truth,’ said James. ‘If you’d seen as much as I have of that type of person you’d be more suspicious.’
    â€˜I don’t think too well of him,’ said Michael, ‘I don’t think well of him at all, and I certainly know him better than you do. I think he’s a poor fish. I’m afraid of his melancholy, that’s all.’
    â€˜I’m not afraid of his melancholy,’ said James, ‘I’m afraid of his capacity to make mischief. The more I think of it, Michael, the more I’m sure we made a mistake when we took him in. I know how one feels about such a case, and I think I agreed with you at the time, at least I let you talk me round. I admit too that I don’t really understand his background. But it’s obviously a complex business, a bad history there. I doubt if we can do him any good, and meanwhile he can do us plenty of harm.’
    â€˜Anyhow, we’ve got him’, said Michael, ‘for better or worse, and we can’t chuck him out, just now especially, because of Catherine.’
    â€˜I know, I know,’ said James. ‘It’s most unfortunate. All the same, I wish I had your faith. I know faith in people, or perhaps one should say faith for people, works miracles. And a miracle’s what’s needed here. Still, to come down to the common sense level, I’d rather have kept the boy in the house. We’re responsible for him too, you know.’
    â€˜He’ll take no harm,’ said Michael. ‘He’s got his head screwed on. I liked him very much, by the way; you were quite right. That sort of youthful integrity is proof against infections. He’ll be working hard anyway, he won’t actually be in the Lodge very much - and he may provide just that link with Nick that we haven’t managed to make so far.’
    Toby began to walk backwards very quietly. When he got off the cobble stones onto the grass he began to run back toward the front of the house. The grass was longish and he had to go leaping through it. He hoped he