CHAPTER XII
"Peace on earth and mercy mild," sang Miss Mapp, holding her head backwith her uvula clearly visible. She sat in her usual seat close belowthe pulpit, and the sun streaming in through a stained glass windowopposite made her face of all colours, like Joseph's coat. Not knowinghow it looked from outside, she pictured to herself a sort of celestialradiance coming from within, though Diva, sitting opposite, wasreminded of the iridescent hues observable on cold boiled beef. Butthen, Miss Mapp had registered the fact that Diva's notion of singingalto was to follow the trebles at the uniform distance of a minor thirdbelow, so that matters were about square between them. She wonderedbetween the verses if she could say something very tactful to Diva,which might before next Christmas induce her not to make that noise....
Major Flint came in just before the first hymn was over, and held histop-hat before his face by way of praying in secret, before he openedhis hymn-book. A piece of loose holly fell down from the window ledgeabove him on the exact middle of his head, and the jump that he gavewas, considering his baldness, quite justifiable. Captain Puffin, MissMapp was sorry to see, was not there at all. But he had been unwelllately with attacks of dizziness, one of which had caused him, in thelast game of golf that he had played, to fall down on the eleventh greenand groan. If these attacks were not due to his lack of perseverance, noright-minded person could fail to be very sorry for him.
There was a good deal more peace on earth as regards Tilling than mighthave been expected considering what the week immediately beforeChristmas had been like. A picture by Miss Coles (who had greatlydropped out of society lately, owing to her odd ways) called "Adam,"which was certainly Mr. Hopkins (though no one could have guessed) hadappeared for sale in the window of a dealer in pictures and curios, buthad been withdrawn from public view at Miss Mapp's personal intercessionand her revelation of whom, unlikely as it sounded, the picturerepresented. The unchivalrous dealer had told the artist the history ofits withdrawal, and it had come to Miss Mapp's ears (among many otherthings) that quaint Irene had imitated the scene of intercession withsuch piercing fidelity that her servant, Lucy-Eve, had nearly died oflaughing. Then there had been clandestine bridge at Mr. Wyse's house onthree consecutive days, and on none of these occasions was Miss Mappasked to continue the instruction which she had professed herselfperfectly willing to give to the Contessa. The Contessa, in fact--thereseemed to be no doubt about it--had declared that she would sooner notplay bridge at all than play with Miss Mapp, because the effort of notlaughing would put an un-warrantable strain on those muscles whichprevented you from doing so.... Then the Contessa had gone to tea quitealone with Major Benjy, and though her shrill and senseless monologuewas clearly audible in the street as Miss Mapp went by to post herletter again, the Major's Dominic had stoutly denied that he was in, andthe notion that the Contessa was haranguing all by herself in hisdrawing-room was too ridiculous to be entertained for a moment.... AndDiva's dyed dress had turned out so well that Miss Mapp gnashed herteeth at the thought that she had not had hers dyed instead. With somegreen chiffon round the neck, even Diva looked quite distinguished--forDiva.
Then, quite suddenly, an angel of Peace had descended on the distractedgarden-room, for the Poppits, the Contessa and Mr. Wyse all went away tospend Christmas and the New Year with the Wyses of Whitchurch. It wasprobable that the Contessa would then continue a round of visits withall that coroneted luggage, and leave for Italy again without revisitingTilling. She had behaved as if that was the case, for taking advantageof a fine afternoon, she had borrowed the Royce and whirled round thetown on a series of calls, leaving P.P.C. cards everywhere, and sayingonly (so Miss Mapp gathered from Withers) "Your mistress not in? Sosorry," and had driven away before Withers could get out the informationthat her mistress was very much in, for she had a bad cold.
But there were the P.P.C. cards, and the Wyses with their futureconnections were going to Whitchurch, and after a few hours of rageagainst all that had been going on, without revenge being now possible,and of reaction after the excitement of it, a different reaction set in.Odd and unlikely as it would have appeared a month or two earlier, whenTilling was seething with duels, it was a fact that it was possible tohave too much excitement. Ever since the Contessa had arrived, she hadbeen like an active volcano planted down among dangerously inflammableelements, and the removal of it was really a matter of relief. Miss Mappfelt that she would be dealing again with materials whose properties sheknew, and since, no doubt, the strain of Susan's marriage would soonfollow, it was a merciful dispensation that the removal of the volcanogranted Tilling a short restorative pause. The young couple would beback before long, and with Susan's approaching elevation certainly goingto her head, and making her talk in a manner wholly intolerable aboutthe grandeur of the Wyses of Whitchurch, it was a boon to be allowed torecuperate for a little, before settling to work afresh to combatSusan's pretensions. There was no fear of being dull: for plenty ofthings had been going on in Tilling before the Contessa flared on theHigh Street, and plenty of things would continue to go on after she hadtaken her explosions elsewhere.
By the time that the second lesson was being read the sun had shiftedfrom Miss Mapp's face, and enabled her to see how ghastly dear Evielooked when focussed under the blue robe of Jonah, who was climbing outof the whale. She had had her disappointments to contend with, for theContessa had never really grasped at all who she was. Sometimes shemistook her for Irene, sometimes she did not seem to see her, but neverhad she appeared fully to identify her as Mr. Bartlett's wee wifey. Butthen, dear Evie was very insignificant even when she squeaked herloudest. Her best friends, among whom was Miss Mapp, would not denythat. She had been wilted by non-recognition; she would recover again,now that they were all left to themselves.
The sermon contained many repetitions and a quantity of splitinfinitives. The Padre had once openly stated that Shakespeare was goodenough for him, and that Shakespeare was guilty of many splitinfinitives. On that occasion there had nearly been a breach between himand Mistress Mapp, for Mistress Mapp had said, "But then you are notShakespeare, dear Padre." And he could find nothing better to reply than"Hoots!".... There was nothing more of interest about the sermon.
At the end of the service Miss Mapp lingered in the church looking atthe lovely decorations of holly and laurel, for which she was so largelyresponsible, until her instinct assured her that everybody else hadshaken hands and was wondering what to say next about Christmas. Then,just then, she hurried out.
They were all there, and she came like the late and honoured guest (PoorDiva).
"Diva, darling," she said. "Merry Christmas! And Evie! And the Padre.Padre dear, thank you for your sermon! And Major Benjy! Merry Christmas,Major Benjy. What a small company we are, but not the less Christmassy.No Mr. Wyse, no Susan, no Isabel. Oh, and no Captain Puffin. Not quitewell again, Major Benjy? Tell me about him. Those dreadful fits ofdizziness. So hard to understand."
She beautifully succeeded in detaching the Major from the rest. With thepeace that had descended on Tilling, she had forgiven him for havingbeen made a fool of by the Contessa.
"I'm anxious about my friend Puffin," he said. "Not at all up to themark. Most depressed. I told him he had no business to be depressed.It's selfish to be depressed, I said. If we were all depressed it wouldbe a dreary world, Miss Elizabeth. He's sent for the doctor. I was tohave had a round of golf with Puffin this afternoon, but he doesn't feelup to it. It would have done him much more good than a host of doctors."
"Oh, I wish I could play golf, and not disappoint you of your round,Major Benjy," said she.
Major Benjy seemed rather to recoil from the thought. He did notprofess, at any rate, any sympathetic regret.
"And we were going to have had our Christmas dinner together to-night,"he said, "and spend a jolly evening afterwards."
"I'm sure quiet is the best thing for Captain Puffin with hisdizziness," said Miss Mapp firmly.
A sudden audacity seized her. Here was the
Major feeling lonely asregards his Christmas evening: here was she delighted that he should notspend it "jollily" with Captain Puffin ... and there was plenty ofplum-pudding.
"Come and have your dinner with me," she said. "I'm alone too."
He shook his head.
"Very kind of you, I'm sure, Miss Elizabeth," he said, "but I think I'llhold myself in readiness to go across to poor old Puffin, if he feels upto it. I feel lost without my friend Puffin."
"But you must have no jolly evening, Major Benjy," she said. "So bad forhim. A little soup and a good night's rest. That's the best thing.Perhaps he would like me to go in and read to him. I will gladly. Tellhim so from me. And if you find he doesn't want anybody, not even you,well, there's a slice of plum-pudding at your neighbour's, and such awarm welcome."
She stood on the steps of her house, which in summer were so crowdedwith sketchers, and would have kissed her hand to him had not Diva beenfollowing close behind, for even on Christmas Day poor Diva was capableof finding something ill-natured to say about the most tender andwomanly action ... and Miss Mapp let herself into her house with only alittle wave of her hand....
Somehow the idea that Major Benjy was feeling lonely and missing thequarrelsome society of his debauched friend was not entirely unpleasingto her. It was odd that there should be anybody who missed CaptainPuffin. Who would not sooner play golf all alone (if that was possible)than with him, or spend an evening alone rather than with hiscompanionship? But if Captain Puffin had to be missed, she wouldcertainly have chosen Major Benjy to be the person who missed him.Without wishing Captain Puffin any unpleasant experience, she would haveborne with equanimity the news of his settled melancholia, or hispermanent dizziness, for Major Benjy with his bright robustness was notthe sort of man to prove a willing comrade to a chronically dizzy ormelancholic friend. Nor would it be right that he should be so. Men inthe prime of life were not meant for that. Nor were they meant to be thevictims of designing women, even though Wyses of Whitchurch.... He wassaved from that by their most opportune departure.
In spite of her readiness to be interrupted at any moment, Miss Mappspent a solitary evening. She had pulled a cracker with Withers, andseverely jarred a tooth over a threepenny-piece in the plum-pudding, butthere had been no other events. Once or twice, in order to see what thenight was like, she had gone to the window of the garden-room, and beenaware that there was a light in Major Benjy's house, but when half-pastten struck, she had despaired of company and gone to bed. A littlecarol-singing in the streets gave her a Christmas feeling, and she hopedthat the singers got a nice supper somewhere.
Miss Mapp did not feel as genial as usual when she came down tobreakfast next day, and omitted to say good-morning to her rainbow ofpiggies. She had run short of wool for her knitting, and Boxing Dayappeared to her a very ill-advised institution. You would have imagined,thought Miss Mapp, as she began cracking her egg, that the tradespeoplehad had enough relaxation on Christmas Day, especially when, as on thisoccasion, it was immediately preceded by Sunday, and would have been allthe better for getting to work again. She never relaxed her efforts fora single day in the year, and why----
An overpowering knocking on her front-door caused her to stop crackingher egg. That imperious summons was succeeded by but a moment ofsilence, and then it began again. She heard the hurried step of Withersacross the hall, and almost before she could have been supposed to reachthe front door, Diva burst into the room.
"Dead!" she said. "In his soup. Captain Puffin. Can't wait!"
She whirled out again and the front door banged.
Miss Mapp ate her egg in three mouthfuls, had no marmalade at all, andputting on the Prince of Wales's cloak tripped down into the HighStreet. Though all shops were shut, Evie was there with hermarket-basket, eagerly listening to what Mrs. Brace, the doctor's wife,was communicating. Though Mrs. Brace was not, strictly speaking, "insociety," Miss Mapp waived all social distinctions, and pressed her handwith a mournful smile.
"Is it all too terribly true?" she asked.
Mrs. Brace did not take the smallest notice of her, and, dropping hervoice, spoke to Evie in tones so low that Miss Mapp could not catch asingle syllable except the word soup, which seemed to imply that Divahad got hold of some correct news at last. Evie gave a shrill littlescream at the concluding words, whatever they were, as Mrs. Bracehurried away.
Miss Mapp firmly cornered Evie, and heard what had happened. CaptainPuffin had gone up to bed last night, not feeling well, without havingany dinner. But he had told Mrs. Gashly to make him some soup, and hewould not want anything else. His parlour-maid had brought it to him,and had soon afterwards opened the door to Major Flint, who, learningthat his friend had gone to bed, went away. She called her master in themorning, and found him sitting, still dressed, with his face in the soupwhich he had poured out into a deep soup-plate. This was very odd, andshe had called Mrs. Gashly. They settled that he was dead, and rang upthe doctor, who agreed with them. It was clear that Captain Puffin hadhad a stroke of some sort, and had fallen forward into the soup which hehad just poured out....
"But he didn't die of his stroke," said Evie in a strangled whisper. "Hewas drowned."
"Drowned, dear?" said Miss Mapp.
"Yes. Lungs were full of ox-tail, oh, dear me! A stroke first, and hefell forward with his face in his soup-plate and got his nose and mouthquite covered with the soup. He was drowned. All on dry land and in hisbedroom. Too terrible. What dangers we are all in!"
She gave a loud squeak and escaped, to tell her husband.
* * * * *
Diva had finished calling on everybody, and approached rapidly.
"He must have died of a stroke," said Diva. "Very much depressed lately.That precedes a stroke."
"Oh, then, haven't you heard, dear?" said Miss Mapp. "It is all tooterrible! On Christmas Day, too!"
"Suicide?" asked Diva. "Oh, how shocking!"
"No, dear. It was like this...."
* * * * *
Miss Mapp got back to her house long before she usually left it. Hercook came up with the proposed bill of fare for the day.
"That will do for lunch," said Miss Mapp. "But not soup in the evening.A little fish from what was left over yesterday, and some toastedcheese. That will be plenty. Just a tray."
Miss Mapp went to the garden-room and sat at her window.
"All so sudden," she said to herself.
She sighed.
"I daresay there may have been much that was good in Captain Puffin,"she thought, "that we knew nothing about."
She wore a wintry smile.
"Major Benjy will feel very lonely," she said.