“I walked home in disgracefully leisurely fashion,” Rebecca said cheerfully, “with Mr. Carver as far as thestile and then alone. The weather seems too lovely to becooped up indoors. Do you think Cook will be dreadfullycross, Maude, if I ring for a cup of tea?”
“Of course not,” Maude said, “and what does it signify if she is? But do please take it in the morning room, Rebecca. Harriet and Stanley are in there, and I mustreturn to his lordship’s room. He is sure to be waking upsoon, and he frets if I am not there.”
“You must be careful not to overwork too, Maude,” Rebecca said, taking in the pallor of her uncle’s wife.Surely Maude had lost weight too in the last little while.
Maude smiled rather wanly. “I shall be fine, Rebecca,” she said. “But I am afraid that the excursion to CenrossCastle really did tax his lordship’s strength too much. Ibelieve he is feeling definitely unwell this time. Oh dear,and I was uncharitable enough to say to you only recentlythat I thought that sometimes he imagined his maladies.”She hurried up the staircase ahead of Rebecca and continued on up to the third floor and her husband’s bedchamber. Rebecca reluctantly turned in the direction of themorning room. The very last thing she felt like at themoment was a dose of Harriet’s peevishness and even—surprisingly—of Mr. Bartlett’s charm. Sometimes, she reflected, one could have too much even of a good thing.
Chapter 13
Two days before the fair, Philip came into the schoolroom while Rebecca was teaching and announced that school would finish early. It was the last day before amonth-long holiday. The harvest would begin soon; thefair had always been set at the end of August to give thelaborers a last fling, so to speak, before the hard work ofgathering in the grain began. And when the work did start,as many hands as possible would be needed. There wouldbe no excusing the boys then for matters of such peripheralimportance as education.
The boys cheered and rose to leave. Rebecca had not quite finished the history lesson she was giving, but shesmiled and closed her book.
“One good thing about history,” she said, “is that it will always wait for another occasion. Well, boys, I havebeen proud of your progress in the last few months. Didyou believe then that by the end of summer you would allbe able to read?”
Some of the boys grinned; others looked sheepish.
“Me dad said that if the good Lord had meant for me to read, he would have made sure I was born to the quality,”one lad said.
“I thought I was nothing but a blockhead, but it was just me eyes, wasn’t it, miss?” Cyril said.
“Cyril,” Rebecca said, “with your eyeglasses you lookso learned that you might easily be mistaken for a young professor.”
All the boys roared with laughter and pushed and shoved one another against the benches.
‘‘Mr. Sinclair said that if I work hard he might hire me in a year or two’s time to help his bailiff,” Cyril saideagerly. “I’m good at figures, and it’s getting so as I canread. ’Course, it would mean leaving me mum and dadand going away.”
Philip stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back. “Well, young men,” he said, “school is dismissed. I justhope that when you come back at the beginning of October, you will not have forgotten all you have learned.”
The boys needed no more encouragement to crowd out through the open door into the air and freedom.
Philip turned to Rebecca. “Have we accomplished anything?” he asked ruefully. “They always seem so eager to get away from the learning and back to the very life fromwhich we are trying to free them.”
Rebecca laughed. “Philip,” she said, “were you such a model pupil during your boyhood that you welcomed allyour lessons? Would you not much have preferred to beout riding or climbing trees?”
“No,” he said with a puzzled frown.
“Then I assure you,” she said, “that you were quite atypical. It seems that one has to be adult before oneappreciates the benefits of learning. Unfortunately it isnecessary to force youngsters to achieve what they willvalue only later in life.”
She proceeded to pack away her own books in a valise that she had brought with her for the purpose. There wasno point in leaving them in the schoolroom for upward of amonth. Philip moved to the back of the room and stackedthe few books there neatly.
“Philip,” Rebecca asked, “has Mr. Christopher Sinclair ever done anything for the school or the boys other than visit a few times?” She did not look at him; she keptbusy with her task.
“Why do you ask?” Philip said after a short pause.
“For no particular reason,” she said. “Just somethingMr. Carver said a few days ago and what Cyril said justnow. I have been left wondering.”
Philip was silent for a while, his hands still on the books beneath them. “I do not know what to say,” he said. “Ihave promised secrecy, though I have never seen thatanything can be served by keeping you uninformed.”
“You mean that Mr. Sinclair paid for Cyril’s eyeglasses?”Rebecca asked, unconsciously holding her breath.
“Oh, yes,” Philip said. “That too.”
“That too?” Rebecca’s attention was focused full on him now. “There has been more?”
Philip raised his eyebrows and half smiled. “I did not know that you suspected only about the eyeglasses,” hesaid. “But since I have hinted at more, I had better tellyou all, I suppose. I really feel you should know, anyway,since you have as close a link with the school as I havemyself. Mr. Sinclair is the man who has financed theschool from the beginning.”
Rebecca really thought she might faint. Everything around her had become unreal. There was only Philip standingthere across the room, looking at her almost apologetically, and the appalling words that still seemed to hang inthe air between them.
