himself, had nothing to lose when he married. Ruled by that dreadful old harridan Mrs Butler, that desiccated Scotswoman who half-starved the poor rector, enduring the chilly discomfort of that great barn of a rectory all alone -of course marriage was attractive! Besides, Charles was the sort of man who should be married: he was not. That was the crux of the matter.
He took up the poker and turned over a log carefully. Watching the flames shoot up the chimney, he told himself firmly that marriage was out of the question. Once that poor girl's divorce was through he hoped that some decent kind young man would appear to make her happy, and take some of her present burdens from her.
Meanwhile, he would do what he could to help her, and would frankly face the fact that her presence gave him enormous pleasure. But for her sake, he must guard his feelings, he reminded himself. Thrush Green was adept at putting two and two together and making five, and she had enough to contend with already, without being annoyed by foolish gossip.
'Avuncular kindness!' said Harold aloud, and was immediately revolted by the phrase. He hit the flaring log such a hefty thwack that it broke in two, dropped the poker, and went to pour himself a much-needed drink.
10 Harold is in Trouble
REGRETTABLY, but understandably, Thrush Green folk tended to avoid Dotty Harmer when they saw her approaching. Few had the time to stand and listen to her diatribes against juvenile delinquency, the present-day teaching of history, air pollution, the exploitation of animals or whatever subject happened to be to the fore of Dotty's raggle-taggle mind.
Now that Dotty had kittens to find homes for, the pursuit of her neighbours was doubly frightening to them. Even she, unobservant as she was, began to notice how people hurried away at her approach.
'Can't understand it,' she told Ella, one gloomy November afternoon. She was carrying the daily bottle of goat's milk to her friend's house.
'Anyone'd think I'd got the plague,' she complained, putting the damp bottle down upon the freshly-polished dining table. 'What's wrong?'
'Kittens,' said Ella briefly. 'How many left?'
'Three,' replied Dotty. She looked accusingly at Ella. 'I was relying on you to help me find homes. What about Dimity? Although I still think that house is too draughty for cats. They need warmth, you know.'
'Better a chilly rectory than a watery death,' said Ella downrightly. 'Sam Curdle would drown them for you, I expect, if you're really stuck.'
Dotty blew out her papery old cheeks with indignation.
'The very idea, Ella Bembridge! If that's your idea of a joke, I consider it in particularly poor taste!'
'Don't be stuffy,' said Ella, 'and sit down, for Pete's sake, mopping and mowing about, with the door open too. It's downright unnerving.'
She slammed the door shut, and watched Dotty perch herself primly on the edge of a chair, the epitome of one who has taken umbrage and is rather enjoying it.
'To tell you the truth, Dotty, I clean forgot to ask Dim about the cat. Anyway, I've an idea that Charles is allergic to them. He certainly never had one while Mrs Butler was with him.'
' That woman,' said Dotty, 'wouldn't have had anything in the house if she'd had her way! I certainly shouldn't have let any cat of mine go there with her in charge of the domestic arrangements. It would have been fed on cold potato and bread crusts, I have no doubt - with watered milk to drink. A quite dreadful person! She once had the temerity to offer me a helping of bread pudding to take home. She got short shrift from me, I can tell you. "Throw it to the birds, Mrs Butler," I told her. "If they're strong enough to lift it from the ground they are welcome to it." She wasn't very pleased, I remember.'
'She's got a post as cook in a boys' school, I hear,' said Ella conversationally.
'Dotheboys Hall, no doubt,' commented Dotty sharply, unwinding a long woolly scarf from her skinny neck.
'Have a cup of tea,'
He took up the poker and turned over a log carefully. Watching the flames shoot up the chimney, he told himself firmly that marriage was out of the question. Once that poor girl's divorce was through he hoped that some decent kind young man would appear to make her happy, and take some of her present burdens from her.
Meanwhile, he would do what he could to help her, and would frankly face the fact that her presence gave him enormous pleasure. But for her sake, he must guard his feelings, he reminded himself. Thrush Green was adept at putting two and two together and making five, and she had enough to contend with already, without being annoyed by foolish gossip.
'Avuncular kindness!' said Harold aloud, and was immediately revolted by the phrase. He hit the flaring log such a hefty thwack that it broke in two, dropped the poker, and went to pour himself a much-needed drink.
10 Harold is in Trouble
REGRETTABLY, but understandably, Thrush Green folk tended to avoid Dotty Harmer when they saw her approaching. Few had the time to stand and listen to her diatribes against juvenile delinquency, the present-day teaching of history, air pollution, the exploitation of animals or whatever subject happened to be to the fore of Dotty's raggle-taggle mind.
Now that Dotty had kittens to find homes for, the pursuit of her neighbours was doubly frightening to them. Even she, unobservant as she was, began to notice how people hurried away at her approach.
'Can't understand it,' she told Ella, one gloomy November afternoon. She was carrying the daily bottle of goat's milk to her friend's house.
'Anyone'd think I'd got the plague,' she complained, putting the damp bottle down upon the freshly-polished dining table. 'What's wrong?'
'Kittens,' said Ella briefly. 'How many left?'
'Three,' replied Dotty. She looked accusingly at Ella. 'I was relying on you to help me find homes. What about Dimity? Although I still think that house is too draughty for cats. They need warmth, you know.'
'Better a chilly rectory than a watery death,' said Ella downrightly. 'Sam Curdle would drown them for you, I expect, if you're really stuck.'
Dotty blew out her papery old cheeks with indignation.
'The very idea, Ella Bembridge! If that's your idea of a joke, I consider it in particularly poor taste!'
'Don't be stuffy,' said Ella, 'and sit down, for Pete's sake, mopping and mowing about, with the door open too. It's downright unnerving.'
She slammed the door shut, and watched Dotty perch herself primly on the edge of a chair, the epitome of one who has taken umbrage and is rather enjoying it.
'To tell you the truth, Dotty, I clean forgot to ask Dim about the cat. Anyway, I've an idea that Charles is allergic to them. He certainly never had one while Mrs Butler was with him.'
' That woman,' said Dotty, 'wouldn't have had anything in the house if she'd had her way! I certainly shouldn't have let any cat of mine go there with her in charge of the domestic arrangements. It would have been fed on cold potato and bread crusts, I have no doubt - with watered milk to drink. A quite dreadful person! She once had the temerity to offer me a helping of bread pudding to take home. She got short shrift from me, I can tell you. "Throw it to the birds, Mrs Butler," I told her. "If they're strong enough to lift it from the ground they are welcome to it." She wasn't very pleased, I remember.'
'She's got a post as cook in a boys' school, I hear,' said Ella conversationally.
'Dotheboys Hall, no doubt,' commented Dotty sharply, unwinding a long woolly scarf from her skinny neck.
'Have a cup of tea,'
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