“Been losing more teeth, eh, Noah?”
“Yeh. But I manage to chew most anything.”
“Good. Digging a grave, I see.”
“Yeh. It’s fur Chalk, him that was blacksmith here once.”
Renny drew back astonished. “Chalk! why — I’m sorry for that. I haven’t heard of it. Chalk! Many a horse he shod for me and shod well.”
“Never liked him,” said Noah, driving his spade into the ground. “He was full of foolish ideas. One of ’em was that all men are good at heart. Looks like it, the way the world goes on, don’t it?”
“He was a good man, Noah. Why, he shod my first pony for me. He was a young fellow then.”
“Well, he was old enough when he died.”
“when is the funeral?”
“At three o’clock — this earth’s so hard with the drought I can hardly get me spade into it.”
“I’ll be here.”
“A funeral on yer second day home! I wouldn’t waste time on Bill Chalk’s funeral if I was you. Him and his forge! Well, it’s a gasoline station now. Things has changed. This year’s a bad one — drought and blight. There’s a blight on the world. It won’t surprise me if I live to see its end.”
“It will have to get a move on, if you’re to see its end.”
Noah Binns glowered up at him out of the grave. “I’ve seed the end of a good deal,” he said. “Blight, drought, bombs — they’ll put an end to the world and danged if I’ll care.”
Renny turned away and walked quickly to the plot where, inside an ornamental iron fence, were the graves of his parents, his grandparents, his stepmother, his brother, and several infant Whiteoaks. His eyes travelled slowly across the green mounds. He read the names on the granite plinth and the names repeated at the head of each grave. He brought to life, in imagination, those whom he could remember — his father’s blond face with that look of well-being, that indolent but rather arrogant good humour; his stepmother with her lovely long white neck, her large blue eyes that were always following his father’s movements, happy only in his nearness. Both had died while he was at the last war. Eden — and at the thought of him, Renny’s brows came together in pain. He should not have let Eden die! Eden might, with better care — but what more could they have done for him? Eden was bound to die. Tragedy was in his air when he had come home to die. Yet none had loved life better.
And those little graves, those of his stepmother’s babies — he remembered how he, a careless boy, had dandled them during their brief stay and how she had wept at their going. And his grandmother; others in that plot might be but bone and dust but he could not think of her so. Surely if she were unearthed and brought to light, those carven features would still be set in the mould of humour, pride, and power.
His own features with their marked resemblance to hers, softened to a smile. He turned and retraced his steps among the graves, past Noah Binns to the gate. He would not visit Maurice Vaughan’s grave — not today. He had lost a lifelong friend. He did not want to dwell on that thought.
Noah sat with dangling legs on the edge of the dark opening in the earth, eating a sandwich, drinking cold tea from a bottle. He called out:
“Know what I heard tell?”
“what?”
“Next winter’s goin’ to be the worst ever. Snow’s comin’ in November and it’ll lie heavy on us till March. Rabbits is goin’ to girdle the fruit trees. There’s to be no fuel, and misery in all the land.” The bottle fell from his hand and the tea was spilt into the grave.
“Oh, my tea,” he groaned. “Spilt into Bill Chalk’s grave!” “Serves you right,” laughed Renny. “Get in after it and I’ll cover you up.”
He went back to Jalna across the fields and turned into the path that led to the stables. He found Wright waiting for him outside the door. He wore a somewhat hangdog expression and said, as he moved forward a step:
“Rags says you’ve been asking about the organ, sir.”
“You bet I have,” returned Renny. “I want to know where it is.”
Wright hung his head. Then slowly he got out, “Miss Adeline and me are the guilty parties but we’d like to show you something first — before we tell about it.”
He led the way to the paddock, to which the colt had that morning been brought from a distant field. Adeline was standing by the gate waiting for them. The colt, with a wisp of grass in his mouth, fixed his gaze enquiringly on the neCentenaryomer. The past weeks of good care had already done much for him. He was filling out, his coat growing sleek, but the fineness of his bony structure was plainly visible. He was still very thin and his stark alert head was as though carved out of bronze.
Renny looked him over, then turned to Wright.
“what has this colt to do with the organ?” he demanded.
Wright did not answer but stood with hanging head. Seeing Wright, to whom she had looked for protection, incapable of speech, Adeline too hung her head, the pair presenting a picture of complete though inexplicable guilt, to the penetrating gaze fixed on them. The colt drew nearer and, from deep in his interior, there came a low whinny.
“Has this colt anything to do with the organ?” repeated Renny. “Come now, what has he to do with it?”
Wright could not speak, so Adeline, as though taking her life in her hands, made the plunge. Pointing over her shoulder with her thumb, as she had seen Wright do, she said:
“The organ’s half of him.”
Renny stared at the colt as though expecting to see a keyboard and pedals develop along one side of him. “what do you mean, the organ’s half of him? Come here.”
She came close to him and he put a compelling hand on her shoulder. “Make a clean breast of this,” he said.
Now the words tumbled out. “Oh, Daddy, you can see how beautiful he is — and a farmer had him and we wanted him terribly. Wright could see wonderful possibilities in him but Wright had only a hundred dollars and no one in our house would put the other hundred in. So I remembered the organ and you said once I might have it and the farmer’s wife wanted an organ more than anything on earth, so I traded the organ for a half share in the colt. And Mr. Crowdy and Mr. Chase have seen him and they say they’ve never seen a youngster more full of promise.”
Renny turned to Wright. “So,” he said, “you have led my daughter into pretty goings-on. You have helped her to steal her great-aunt’s organ and to trade it for a share in a half-starved colt who may amount to nothing. It’s small wonder that she wrote to me that you and she were running the place together.”
Wright looked crushed but Adeline spoke up bravely. “It was all my doing, Daddy. Wright didn’t know I’d made the bargain till it was settled.”
Renny replied sarcastically, “And I suppose you got the organ from the basement and carried it to the farmer’s wife all by yourself. A likely story. You needn’t tell me Rags wasn’t in this, for he was.”
“Oh, Rags was splendid,” said Adeline. “He nearly broke his back carrying the organ up the steps, and cook helped too. We all were pushing.”
Renny turned to Wright. “Of course you consulted Mrs. Whiteoak about this.”
Wright answered sulkily, “I couldn’t. She’d fired me once already.”
“Already fired you!”
“Yes, sir. But I wouldn’t go.”
“By Judas, this is a house to come back to! why did she fire you?”
“Oh, sir, that’s quite a story,” said Wright miserably. “It’d take some time to tell.”
“I have plenty of time. Go ahead.”
“Daddy, may I just ask you one thing?” said Adeline, standing up very straight. “Would you please have a really good look at the colt before we go into that other story? And that was all my fault too, because Wright never knew how bad my knee was. Oh, please have a good look at the colt first.”
Renny opened the gate into the paddock and entered. All three stood about the colt, he gazing at them out of proud full eyes, as though deep in his breast he kne
w what he could do. Adeline and Wright were his friends but he looked long at the neCentenaryomer, as though speculatively. Renny examined him from nostrils to rump then, turning to Wright with one of his sudden changes of expression, he said:
“Two hundred dollars they asked, eh?”
“Yes, sir.”
“One hundred and the organ,” put in Adeline.
Renny grinned. “I believe,” he said, “that he has it in him to be a wonderful lepper.” He had picked up the word in Ireland and continued to use it, though it grated distressingly on Alayne’s ears.
“I thought you’d agree to that, sir. Later on this colt’s going to be worth a lot of money.”
“I grant you that he’s a good-looking fellow,” said Renny, “and may make his mark. But, as for the organ — you come along with me, Adeline.” He turned away, she meekly following.
Presently she slipped her hand into his and walked so, without either speaking. At last she spoke in a small voice.
“Daddy, what are you going to do to me?”
This she would never have asked but that she saw forgiveness in his eyes as he looked down at her. She threw all the innocence, sweetness, and goodness she could command into her look.
“You are a rogue,” he said sternly, “and deserve to have a stick taken to your back, but this time I forgive you. Though if your Aunt Augusta knew I don’t think she would forgive you.”
“I believe she would, Daddy, for Uncle Finch says she was a very understanding woman.”
They had crossed a field where a cluster of Jersey cows had sought the shade, and where a flock of geese grazed by the stream. Beyond lay Vaughanlands. Renny threw his leg over a rail fence and thus elevated he surveyed the loved landscape. Adeline climbed to his side and perched there. The warm breeze fanned their faces, the sun was dazzling. Renny saw its shimmer on three strange roofs. He stared and stared again. He could scarcely believe his eyes.
“why —” he stammered — “what houses are those?”
Here was something, she guessed, to draw his attention from her misdeeds. She fixed her bright eyes on his face. “Those,” she said, “are the beginnings of Clappertown.”
“Clappertown,” he repeated, his colour rising. “what do you mean, Clappertown?”
“why, Daddy, that’s the name of the model village Mr. Clapperton plans to build.” Genuine enthusiasm came into her voice. “He’s going to do wonderful things. For instance, he’s going to have a community swimming pool and we shall be allowed to use it. There’s to be nothing ugly in the village — just pretty little houses and a special kind of people. Mr. Clapperton is going to keep everything refined. That’s the word he used.” She stopped. She could not go on, seeing the look on her father’s face. He began to get off the fence.
“why wasn’t I told this before?” he asked.
“I expect no one dared. Where are you going, Daddy?”
“To tell him he can’t do any building here.”
“Oh, please let me come.”
“No. I want to be alone with him.”
“I do so want to hear what is said.”
“You wait here till I come back.”
She watched him stride across the field. How glorious, she thought, to have him home again, even though he did stir things up. She watched him with possessive pride. No other girl she knew had a father to compare to him.
Renny made a closer inspection of the cottages before going to the large house. He inspected them with such concentrated hate as brick and mortar might well have become aware of. Indeed the widowed lady who occupied the nearest one, looking out of her window and seeing his nearness and the threatening expression of his face, hurried to her door and locked it. Like a rabbit in its burrow she peered out at him, while like a fox he stared in at her till he turned away and went to Eugene Clapperton’s door. He used the old knocker instead of the new electric bell.
Mr. Clapperton himself opened the door. He was dapper and self-possessed as always. He gave his visitor an enquiring look, though realizing at the first glance who he was. He did not in the least like his looks.
“I am Renny Whiteoak,” he said. “I’ve been home two days and I’ve just discovered your would-be village. Good God, do you think I’ll stand for that? Let me tell you that two bungalows were once built on this property and I never rested till I had them pulled down.”
Mr. Clapperton spoke in a conciliatory tone. “Come in, Colonel Whiteoak, come in and let’s talk over this matter agreeably.”
“Agreeably!” his visitor repeated. “If you think I can be agreeable about a thing like this, you’re mistaken. I’ll stay here, thanks.”
Mr. Clapperton liked him less and less. He was a disagreeable, a formidable-looking fellow. But he still spoke to him with forced friendliness.
“I’m sure you don’t understand, Mr. Whiteoak. There is a great difference between shoddy bungalows and the type of dwelling I am erecting. I am an idealist. For many years it has been my dream to build and to own a model village. Just a very small one, you know, but perfect in its way, where people of refined taste and small means can enjoy lovely surroundings. There is to be a swimming pool —”
“I know, I know,” interrupted Renny. “And my family is to be allowed to swim in it! Are you under the impression that we want a swimming pool? If we had wanted it we should not have waited for you to build us one.”
Eugene Clapperton’s anger rose. “Well, sir,” he said, “I don’t need your permission to go ahead with my plan. And what’s more, you can’t stop me. There were no building restrictions in the deeds of the property.”
“If I had been at home when the sale was made there would have been.”
“I dare say, but you weren’t.”
Renny spoke more quietly. “The properties about here,” he said, “were acquired a hundred years and more ago, in order that those who valued privacy and their heritage of British tradition, might enjoy both here. Do you want to be the one to spoil all that?”
“No, I don’t. I came into the country because I like privacy. I can’t see that I’m spoiling anything by founding a model village.”
“You may found it, Mr. Clapperton, but you can’t tell how it will go on. You won’t live for ever. Will your heirs care a damn who lives in your pretty village? Well, I’ll just say this — it’s the silliest scheme I’ve ever heard of. It’s worthy of some sentimental old lady, with no grain of horse-sense in her.”
This was too much for Mr. Clapperton. He exclaimed hotly, “I will build this village without any interference from you and I will run it, in my own way, without interference from you. From what I hear you have a very overbearing attitude in these parts but it won’t work with me.”
At this instant Renny’s dogs who were well acquainted with Vaughanlands, ran pell-mell into the house, the bulldog almost knocking Mr. Clapperton off his feet.
“Get out!” he shouted, and kicked at them.
“I should advise you,” said Renny, “not to kick my dogs. I don’t want to shake you but in that case I’d be forced to.”
“Then take them out of here,” snapped Mr. Clapperton.
Renny whistled to the dogs. Soon his tall figure disappeared through the shrubbery.
“what a change,” he thought bitterly. “when I left for the War, Maurice Vaughan was living here. It was a second home to me. Now he’s gone and this blighter Clapperton is in his place with his fantastic schemes! It’s unbelievable.”
At home he found lunch waiting. During his absence this lighter meal had been substituted for the old-fashioned one-o’clock dinner. Now dinner was at night. He helped himself somewhat grimly to salad and remarked:
“A pretty mess Meg has made — selling Vaughanlands to a crank like this Clapperton.”
“We knew,” said Ernest, “that you would be greatly disturbed by his project.”
“Disturbed!” exclaimed his nephew. “I all but shook the weasand out of him.”
A thrill went about the
table. “Not actually!” cried Alayne in horror.
“Well, no. But I had a mind to.”
She drew a sigh of relief. “How did you find out?” she asked.
“I saw the cottages. Adeline told me what he is up to. I went to see him.”
“I suppose you had words with him,” said Ernest.
“Yes. Hot ones.”
“Now there will be bad feeling.”
“Certainly there is on my side, and he gave me a nasty look as I left.”
“Horrid old fellow,” put in Nicholas.
His brother looked at him critically. “Watercress,” he said, “down the front of your waistcoat.”
Nicholas peered down his front. He collected the sprays of cress with a trembling old hand and laconically poked them in under his moustache. Archer giggled hysterically.
Renny gave a scrap of scone to each of the dogs in turn. For an instant the pink interior of the sheepdog’s mouth was visible, then the morsel disappeared into his hairy face. Only his eyes gleaming through his fringe showed his eagerness for more. The bulldog chewed ostentatiously on his back teeth. He raised himself against his master’s knee and looked over the table. Delicately as a lady the little Cairn accepted his share.
“How nice it is,” said Roma, glancing out of the sides of her eyes at Alayne, “to see the dogs again.”
“I guess the War seemed long to them,” said Archer.
“Will you children please eat your lunch and not talk,” said Alayne.
“This affair of the model village is very distressing,” said Ernest.
Alayne wished the subject might be dropped. She said, “As the building is inevitable, I believe the less we say about it the better.”
“It is not inevitable,” returned Renny, “and it’s not going to take place.”
“what shall you do?” asked Finch, rousing himself from a reverie.
“Yes,” said Ernest. “I should like to hear what you plan to do.”
“I’d like,” said Nicholas, “to duck that horrid old fellow in the horse pond.”
The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche Page 415