all roads lead to calvary-第22章

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She　examined　Joan　awhile　in　silence。　　〃Are　you　on　the　stage？〃　she　asked。

〃No；〃　answered　Joan。　　〃But　my　mother　was。　　Are　you？〃

〃Thought　you　looked　a　bit　like　it；〃　said　the　girl。　　〃I'm　in　the　chorus。　　It's　better　than　being　in　service　or　in　a　shop：　　that's　all　you　can　say　for　it。〃

〃But　you'll　get　out　of　that；〃　suggested　Joan。　　〃You've　got　the　actress　face。〃

The　girl　flushed　with　pleasure。　　It　was　a　striking　face；　with　intelligent　eyes　and　a　mobile；　sensitive　mouth。　　〃Oh；　yes；〃　she　said；　〃I　could　act　all　right。　　I　feel　it。　　But　you　don't　get　out　of　the　chorus。　　Except　at　a　price。〃

Joan　looked　at　her。　　〃I　thought　that　sort　of　thing　was　dying　out；〃　she　said。

The　girl　shrugged　her　shoulders。　　〃Not　in　my　shop；〃　she　answered。　〃Anyhow；　it　was　the　only　chance　I　ever　had。　　Wish　sometimes　I'd　taken　it。　　It　was　quite　a　good　part。〃

〃They　must　have　felt　sure　you　could　act；〃　said　Joan。　　〃Next　time　it　will　be　a　clean　offer。〃

The　girl　shook　her　head。　　〃There's　no　next　time；〃　she　said；　〃once　you're　put　down　as　one　of　the　stand…offs。　　Plenty　of　others　to　take　your　place。〃

〃Oh；　I　don't　blame　them；〃　she　added。　　〃It　isn't　a　thing　to　be　dismissed　with　a　toss　of　your　head。　　I　thought　it　all　out。　　Don't　know　now　what　decided　me。　　Something　inside　me；　I　suppose。〃

Joan　found　herself　poking　the　fire。　　〃Have　you　known　Mary　Stopperton　long？〃　she　asked。

〃Oh；　yes；〃　answered　the　girl。　　〃Ever　since　I've　been　on　my　own。〃

〃Did　you　talk　it　over　with　her？〃　asked　Joan。

〃No；〃　answered　the　girl。　　〃I　may　have　just　told　her。　　She　isn't　the　sort　that　gives　advice。〃

〃I'm　glad　you　didn't　do　it；〃　said　Joan：　　〃that　you　put　up　a　fight　for　all　women。〃

The　girl　gave　a　short　laugh。　　〃Afraid　I　wasn't　thinking　much　about　that；〃　she　said。

〃No；〃　said　Joan。　　〃But　perhaps　that's　the　way　the　best　fights　are　foughtwithout　thinking。〃

Mary　peeped　round　the　door。　　She　had　been　lucky　enough　to　find　the　doctor　in。　　She　disappeared　again；　and　they　talked　about　themselves。　　The　girl　was　a　Miss　Ensor。　　She　lived　by　herself　in　a　room　in　Lawrence　Street。

〃I'm　not　good　at　getting　on　with　people；〃　she　explained。

Mary　joined　them；　and　went　straight　to　Miss　Ensor's　bag　and　opened　it。　　She　shook　her　head　at　the　contents；　which　consisted　of　a　small；　flabby…looking　meat　pie　in　a　tin　dish；　and　two　pale；　flat　mince　tarts。

〃It　doesn't　nourish　you；　dearie；〃　complained　Mary。　　〃You　could　have　bought　yourself　a　nice　bit　of　meat　with　the　same　money。〃

〃And　you　would　have　had　all　the　trouble　of　cooking　it；〃　answered　the　girl。　　〃That　only　wants　warming　up。〃

〃But　I　like　cooking；　you　know；　dearie；〃　grumbled　Mary。　　〃There's　no　interest　in　warming　things　up。〃

The　girl　laughed。　　〃You　don't　have　to　go　far　for　your　fun；〃　she　said。　　〃I'll　bring　a　sole　next　time；　and　you　shall　do　it　au　gratin。〃

Mary　put　the　indigestible…looking　pasties　into　the　oven；　and　almost　banged　the　door。　　Miss　Ensor　proceeded　to　lay　the　table。　　〃How　many；　do　you　think？〃　she　asked。　　Mary　was　doubtful。　　She　hoped　that；　it　being　Christmas　Day；　they　would　have　somewhere　better　to　go。

〃I　passed　old　'Bubble　and　Squeak；'　just　now；　spouting　away　to　three　men　and　a　dog　outside　the　World's　End。　　I　expect　he'll　turn　up；〃　thought　Miss　Ensor。　　She　laid　for　four；　leaving　space　for　more　if　need　be。　　〃I　call　it　the　'Cadger's　Arms；'〃　she　explained；　turning　to　Joan。　　〃We　bring　our　own　victuals；　and　Mary　cooks　them　for　us　and　waits　on　us；　and　the　more　of　us　the　merrier。　　You　look　forward　to　your　Sunday　evening　parties；　don't　you？〃　she　asked　of　Mary。

Mary　laughed。　　She　was　busy　in　a　corner　with　basins　and　a　saucepan。　〃Of　course　I　do；　dearie；〃　she　answered。　　〃I've　always　been　fond　of　company。〃

There　came　another　opening　of　the　door。　　A　little　hairy　man　entered。　　He　wore　spectacles　and　was　dressed　in　black。　　He　carried　a　paper　parcel　which　he　laid　upon　the　table。　　He　looked　a　little　doubtful　at　Joan。　　Mary　introduced　them。　　His　name　was　Julius　Simson。　　He　shook　hands　as　if　under　protest。

〃As　friends　of　Mary　Stopperton；〃　he　said；　〃we　meet　on　neutral　ground。　　But　in　all　matters　of　moment　I　expect　we　are　as　far　asunder　as　the　poles。　　I　stand　for　the　People。〃

〃We　ought　to　be　comrades；〃　answered　Joan；　with　a　smile。　　〃I；　too；　am　trying　to　help　the　People。〃

〃You　and　your　class；〃　said　Mr。　Simson；　〃are　friends　enough　to　the　People；　so　long　as　they　remember　that　they　are　the　People；　and　keep　their　proper　placeat　the　bottom。　　I　am　for　putting　the　People　at　the　top。〃

〃Then　they　will　be　the　Upper　Classes；〃　suggested　Joan。　　〃And　I　may　still　have　to　go　on　fighting　for　the　rights　of　the　lower　orders。〃

〃In　this　world；〃　explained　Mr。　Simson；　〃someone　has　got　to　be　Master。　　The　only　question　is　who。〃

Mary　had　unwrapped　the　paper　parcel。　　It　contained　half　a　sheep's　head。　　〃How　would　you　like　it　done？〃　she　whispered。

Mr。　Simson　considered。　　There　came　a　softer　look　into　his　eyes。　〃How　did　you　do　it　last　time？〃　he　asked。　　〃It　came　up　brown；　I　remember；　with　thick　gravy。〃

〃Braised；〃　suggested　Mary。

〃That's　the　word；〃　agreed　Mr。　Simson。　　〃Braised。〃　　He　watched　while　Mary　took　things　needful　from　the　cupboard；　and　commenced　to　peel　an　onion。

〃That's　the　sort　that　makes　me　despair　of　the　People；〃　said　Mr。　Simson。　　Joan　could　not　be　sure　whether　he　was　addressing　her　individually　or　imaginary　thousands。　　〃Likes　working　for　nothing。　Thinks　she　was　born　to　be　everybody's　servant。〃　　He　seated　himself　beside　Miss　Ensor　on　the　antiquated　sofa。　　It　gave　a　complaining　groan　but　held　out。

〃Did　you　have　a　good　house？〃　the　girl　asked　him。　　〃Saw　you　from　the　distance；　waving　your　arms　about。　　Hadn't　time　to　stop。〃

〃Not　many；〃　admitted　Mr。　Simson。　　〃A　Christmassy　lot。　　You　know。　Sort　of　crowd　that　interrupts　you　and　tries　to　be　funny。　　Dead　to　their　own　interests。　　It's　slow　work。〃

〃Why　do　you　do　it？〃　asked　Miss　Ensor。

〃Damned　if　I　know；〃　answered　Mr。　Simson；　with　a　burst　of　candour。　〃Can't　help　it；　I　suppose。　　Lost　me　job　again。〃

〃The　old　story？〃　suggested　Miss　Ensor。

〃The　old　story；〃　sighed　Mr。　Simson。　　〃One　of　the　customers　happened　to　be　passing　last　Wednesday　when　I　was　speaking　on　the　Embankment。　Heard　my　opinion　of　the　middle　classes？〃

〃Well；　you　can't　expect　'em　to　like　it；　can　you？〃　submitted　Miss　Ensor。

〃No；〃　admitted　Mr。　Simson　with　generosity。　　〃It's　only　natural。　It's　a　fight　to　the　finish　between　me　and　the　Bourgeois。　　I　cover　them　with　ridicule　and　contempt　and　they　hit　back　at　me　in　the　only　way　they　know。〃

〃Take　care　they　don't　get　the　best　of　you；〃　Miss　Ensor　advised　him。

〃Oh；　I'm　not　afraid；〃　he　answered。　　〃I'll　get　another　place　all　right：　　give　me　time。　　The　only　thing　I'm　worried　about　is　my　young　woman。〃

〃Doesn't　agree　with　you？〃　inquired　Miss　Ensor。

〃Oh；　it　isn't　that；〃　he　answered。　　〃But　she's　frightened。　　You　know。　　Says　life　with　me　is　going　to　be　a　bit　too　uncertain　for　her。　　Perhaps　she's　right。〃

〃Oh；　why　don't　you　chuck　it；〃　advised　Miss　Ensor；　〃give　the　Bourgeois　a　rest。〃

Mr。　Simson　shook　his　head。　　〃Somebody's　got　to　tackle　them；〃　he　said。　　〃Tell　them　the　truth　about　themselves；　to　their　faces。〃

〃Yes；　but　it　needn't　be　you；〃　suggested　Miss　Ensor。

Mary　was　leaning　over　the　table。　　Miss　Ensor's　four…penny　veal　and　ham　pie　was　ready。　　Mary　arranged　it　in　front　of　her。　　〃Eat　it　while　it's　hot；　dearie；〃　she　counselled。　　〃It　won't　be　so　indigestible。〃

Miss　Ensor　turned　to　her。　　〃Oh；　you　talk　to　him；〃　she　urged。　〃Here；　he's　lost　his　job　again；　and　is　losing　his　girl：　　all　because　of　his　silly　politics。　　Tell　him　he's　got　to　have　sense　and　stop　it。〃

Mary　seemed　troubled。　　Evidently；　as　Miss　Ensor　had　stated；　advice　was　not　her　line。　　〃Perhaps　he's　got　to　do　it；　dearie；〃　she　suggested。

〃What　do　you　mean　by　got　to　do　it？〃　exclaimed　Miss　Ensor。　　〃Who's　making　him　do　it；　except　himself？〃

Mary　flushed。　　She　seemed　to　want　to　get　back　to　her　cooking。　〃It's　something　inside　us；　dearie；〃　she　thought：　　〃that　nobody　hears　but　ourselves。〃

〃That　tells　him　to　talk　all　that　twaddle？〃　demanded　Miss　Ensor。　〃Have　you　heard　him？〃

〃No；　dearie；〃　Mary　admitted。　　〃But　I　expect　it's　got　its　purpose。　Or　he　wouldn't　have　to　do　it。〃

Miss　Ensor　gave　a　gesture　of　despair　and　applied　herself　to　her　pie。　　The　hirsute　face　of　Mr。　Simson　had　lost　the　foolish　aggressiveness　that　had　irritated　Joan。　　He　seemed　to　be　pondering　matters。

Mary　hoped　that　Joan　was　hungry。　　Joan　laughed　and　admitted　that　she　was。　　〃It's　the　smell　of　all　the　nice　things；〃　she　explained。　Mary　promised　it　should　soon　be　ready；　and　went　back　to　her　corner。

A　short；　dark；　thick…set　man　entered　and　stood　looking　round　the　room。　　The　frame　must　once　have　been　powerful；　but　now　it　was　shrunken　and　emaciated。　　The　shabby；　threadbare　clothes　hung　loosely　from　the　stooping　shoulders。　　Only　the　head　seemed　to　have　retained　its　vigour。　　The　face；　from　which　the　long　black　hair　was　brushed　straight　back；　was　ghastly　white。　　Out　of　it；　deep　set　beneath　great　shaggy；　overhanging　brows；　blazed　the　fierce；　restless　eyes　of　a　fanatic。　　The　huge；　thin…lipped　mouth　seemed　to　have　petrified　itself　into　a　savage　snarl。　　He　gave　Joan　the　idea；　as　he　stood　there　glaring　round　him；　of　a　hunted　beast　at　bay。

Miss　Ensor；　whose　bump　of　reverence　was　undeveloped；　greeted　him　cheerfully　as　Boanerges。　　Mr。　Simson；　more　respectful；　rose　and　offered　his　small；　grimy　hand。　　Mary　took　his　hat　and　cloak　away　from　him　and　closed　the　door　behind　him。　　She　felt　his　hands；　and　put　him　into　a　chair　close　to　the　fire。　　And　then　she　introduced　him　to　Joan。

Joan　started　on　hearing　his　name。　　It　was　one　well　known。

〃The　Cyril　Baptiste？〃　she　asked。　　She　had　often　wondered　what　he　might　be　like。

〃The　Cyril　Baptiste；〃　he　answered；　in　a　low；　even；　passionate　voice；　that　he　flung　at　her　almost　like　a　blow。　　〃The　atheist；　the　gaol　bird；　the　pariah；　the　blasphemer；　the　anti…Christ。　　I've　hoofs　instead　of　feet。　　Shall　I　take　off　my　boots　and　show　them　to　you？　I　tuck　my　tail　inside　my　coat。　　You　can't　see　my　horns。　　I've　cut　them　off　close　to　my　head。　　That's　why　I　wear　my　hair　long：　　to　hide　the　stumps。〃

Mary　had　been　searching　in　the　pockets　of　his　cloak。　　She　had　found　a　paper　bag。　　〃You　mustn't　get　excited；〃　she　said；　laying　her　little　work…worn　hand　upon　his　shoulder；　〃or　you'll　bring　on　the　bleeding。〃

〃Aye；〃　he　answered；　〃I　must　be　careful　I　don't　die　on　Christmas　Day。　　It　would　make　a　fine　text；　that；　for　their　sermons。〃

He　lapsed　into　silence：　　his　almost　transparent　hands　stretched　out　towards　the　fire。

Mr。　Simson　fidgeted。　　The　quiet　of　the　room；　broken　only　by　Mary's　ministering　activities；　evidently　oppressed　him。

〃Paper　going　well；　sir？〃　he　asked。　　〃I　often　read　it　myself。〃

〃It　still　sells；〃　answered　the　proprietor；　and　editor　and　publisher；　and　entire　staff　of　The　Rationalist。

〃I　like　the　articles　you　are　writing　on　the　History　of　Superstition。　　Quite　illuminating；〃　remarked　Mr。　Simson。

〃It's　many　a　year；　I　am　afraid；　to　the　final　chapter；〃　thought　their　author。

〃They　afford　much　food　for　reflection；〃　thought　Mr。　Simson；　〃though　I　cannot　myself　go　as　far　as　you　do　in　including　Christianity　under　that　heading。〃

Mary　frowned　at　him；　but　Mr。　Simson；　eager　for　argument　or　not　noticing；　blundered　on：…

〃Whether　we　accept　the　miraculous　explanation　of　Christ's　birth；〃　continued