Helen with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett

Chapter one of Helen with the High Hand. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or a volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. Read by Simone Evers. Helen with the Higher Hand by Arnold Bennett, Chapter one, beginning of the idyl in the Five Towns. Human nature is reported to be so hard that you can break stones on it. Yet sometimes it softens, and then we have one of

our rare idols of which we are very proud. Are pretending not to be. The soft and delicate South will possibly not esteem highly our idols as such. Nevertheless, they are idols, idyllic for us, and reminding us, by certain symptoms that though we never cry, there is concealed somewhere within our bodies a fount of happy tears. The Town Park is an idol in the otherwise prosaic municipal history of the Borough of Bersley, which previously had never got

nearer to Romance than a Turkish bath. It was once waste ground, covered with horrible rubbish heaps, and made dangerous by the imperfectly protected shafts of disused coalpits. Now you enter it by emblazoned gates. It is surrounded by elegant railings, fountains and cascades. Babbel in it. Wild fowl from far countries roost in it on trees with long names. Tea is served in it.

Brass bands make music on its terraces and on its highest terrace. Town councilors play bowls on billiard table greens, while casting proud glances on the houses of thirty thousand people spread out under the sweet influence of the gold Angel the tops the town hall spire. The other four towns are apt to ridicule that gold angel, which for exactly fifty years has guarded the borough and only been reyielded

twice. But ask the plumber who last had the fearsome job of regilding it whether it is a gold angel to be despised, and you will see. The other four towns are also apt to point to their own parks when Bursley mentions its park, especially Turnhill, smallest and most conceited of the five. But let them show a park whose natural situation equals that of Bursley's park. You may tell me that the terra cotta constructions within it carry ugliness beyond a

joke. You may tell me that despite of the park's of a haunted situation, nothing can be seen from it save the chimneys and kilns of earthenware manufactories, the scaffoldings of pit heads, the ample dome of the rate collector's offices, the railway minarets of nonconformity, sundry undulating square miles of monotonous house roofs, the long scarves of black smoke which add such interest to the sky of

the five towns, and of course the gold Angel. But I tell you that before the days of the park, lovers had no place to walk in but the cemetery, not the ancient churchyard of Saint Luke's. The rector would like to catch them at it, the borough cemetery, one generation forced to make love over the tombs of another, and such tombs before the days of the park. That is the sufficient answer to any criticism of the park.

The highest terrace of the park is a splendid expanse of gravel ornamented with flower beds. At one end is the North Boning Green, and the other is the South Boonding Green. In the middle is a terracotta and last shelter, and at intervals against the terracotta balustrade are arranged rustic seats from which the aged, the enamored, and the sedentary can enjoy the gold angel. Between the southernmost seat and the southboding green on that Saturday afternoon stood mister James olleran Shaw.

He was watching a man who earned four and sixpence a day by gently toying from time to time with a roller on the polished surface of the green. Mister James olleran Shaw's age was sixty, but he looks as if he did not care. His appearance was shabby, but he did not seem to mind. He carried his hands in the peculiar horizontal pockets of his trousers and stuck out his figure in a way to indicate that he gave permission to all

to think of him exactly what they pleased. Those pockets were characteristic of the whole costume. Their very name is unfamiliar to the twentieth century. They divide the garment by officier, whose sides are kept together by many buttons, and a affection on the part of even a few buttons is apt to be inconvenient. James Ollerinshaw was one of the last persons in Bursley to defy fashion in

the matter of pockets. His suit was of a strange hot color, like a brick which, having become very dirty, has been imperfectly cleaned and then powdered with sand. Made in a hard, eternal, resistless cloth after a pattern which has not survived the apprenticeship of five towns tailors in London, scarcely

anywhere save on the person of James Olleranshaw. Would you see nowadays that cloth that tint, those very short cut oat tails, that curved opening of the waistcoat, all those trouser pockets, the paper turned down collar, and the black necktie of which only a one square inch was ever visible, And the paper cuffs which finished the tailor made portion of mister Olronshaw still linger in prosperatic profusion. His low, flat topped hat was faintly green, as though a

delicate fungoid growth were just budding on its black. His small feet were cloistered in small, thick boots of glittering brilliants. The color of his face matched that of his suit. He had no mustache and no whiskers, but a small, stiff gray beard was rooted somewhere under his chin. He kept a good deal of his hair. He was an undersized man, with short arms and legs, and all his features mouth, nose, ears, blue eyes were small and sharp. His head, as an entirety, was small.

His thin mouth was always tightly shut except when he spoke. The general expression of his face was one of suppressed, sarcastic amusement. He was always referred to as Jimmy Ollerenshaw, and he may strike you as what is known as a character an oddity. His sudden appearance at a royal levee would assuredly have excited remark, and even immersely he diverged from the ordinary. Nevertheless, I

must expressly warn you against imagining mister Ollronshaw as an oddity. It is the most difficult thing in the world for a man named James not to be referred to as Jimmy. The temptation to the public is almost irresistible. Let him have but a wart on his nose, and they will regarded as sufficient excuse for yielding. I do not think that mister Ollerenshaw was consciously set down as an oddity in his native town. Certainly he did not so set down himself.

Certainly he was incapable of freakishness. By the town, he was respected. His views on cottage property, the state of trade, and the finances of the borough were listened to with a respectful absence of comment. He was one of the few who had made cottage property pay. It was said he owned a mile of cottages in Bursley and Turnhill. It was said that,

after Ephram Twelthwright, he was the richest man in Bursley. There was a slight resemblance of type between Ollerinshaw and tel Wright, but tell Wright buried two wives, whereas Olleranshaw had never got within arm's length of a woman. The town much preferred Ollerenshaw. After having duty surveyed the majestic activities of the groundsman on the bowling green, and having glanced at his watch, mister Ollerinshaw sat down on the nearest bench. He was waiting for an opponent, the captain

of the bowling club. It is exactly at the instance of his down sitting that the drama about to be unfolded properly begins. Strolling along from the northern extremity of the terrace to the south was a young woman this young woman, as could be judged from her free and independent carriage, where such a creature as, having once resolved to do a thing, is not to be deterred

from doing it by the caprices of other people. She had resolved a resolution of no importance whatever to seat herself on precisely the southernmost bench of the terrace. There was not indeed any particular reason why she should have chosen the southernmost bench, but she had chosen it. She had chosen it afar off, while it was yet empty, and mister Orroonshaw was on his feet. When

mister Orronshaw dropped into a corner of it. The girl's first instinctive of volition was to stop earlier than she had intended at one of the other seats. Despite statements to the contrary, man is so little like a sheep that when he has a choice of benches in a park, he will always select an empty one. This rule is universal in England and Scotland, though elsewhere exceptions

to it have been known to occur. But the girl being a girl, and being a girl who earned her own living, and being a girl who brought all conventions to the bar of her reason and force them to stand trial. There said to herself, proudly and coldly, it would be absurd on my part to change my mind. I meant to occupy that bench, and why should I not. There is ampty sufficient space for the man and me too. He has taken one corner, and I will take the other.

These notions that girls have are silly. She meant the notion that she herself had had. So she floated forward, charmingly and inexorably. She has what in the Five Times is called a stylish piece of goods. She wore a black and white frock of a small check pattern, with a black belt and long black gloves. And she held over her serenity a black parasol richly flounced with black lace. I toilet unusual in the district, and as effective as it was unusual, she you how to carry it. She was a tall

girl, and generously formed, with a complexion between fair and dark. Her age perhaps about twenty five. She had the eye of an empress, and not an empress consort either, nor an empress who trembles in secret of the rumor of cabals and intrigues. Yes, considered as a decoration of the pteris. She was possibly the finest and most dazzling thing that burst it could have produced, and burst it doubtless regretted that it could only claim her as a

daughter by adoption. Approaching step by dainty and precise step, the seat invested by mister James Ollerenshaw, she arrived at the point when she could distinguish the features of her full staller. She was somewhat short sighted. She gave no outward sign of fear, irresolution, cowardice. But if she had not been more afraid of her own contempt than of anything else in the world, she would have run away. She would have ceased being an empress and to climbed

suddenly into a scared child. However, her fear of her own contempt kept her spine straight, her face towards the danger, and her feet steadily moving. It's not my fault, she said to herself. I meant to occupy that bench, and occupy it. I will. What have I to be ashamed of? And she did occupy that bench. She contrived to occupy it without seeing mister Ollerenshaw. Each separate movement of hers denied absolutely the existence of

mister Olleranshaw. She ranged her dress, and her parasol, and her arms, and the exact angle of her chin, And there gradually fell upon her that stillness which falls upon the figure of a woman when she is definitively adopted an attitude in the public eye. She was gazing at the gold angel a mile off, which flashed in the sun. But what a deceptive stillness was that stillness. A hammer was hammering away under her breast, with what see

to her a reverberating sound. Strange that that hammery did not excite attention throughout the park. Then she had the misfortune to think of the act of blushing. She violently willed not to blush, but her blood was too much for her. It displayed itself in the most sanguinary manner, first in the center of each cheek, and it increased its area of conquest until the whole of her visible skin, even the back of her neck and her lobes, had

rosalie yielded. And she was one of your girls who never blushed. The ignominy of it to blush, because she found herself within thirty inches of a man, an old man with whom she had never in her life exchanged a single word. End of chapter one Chapter two of Helen with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Simon Evers and the High Hand, Chapter two, An Affair of the seventies.

Having satisfied her obstinacy by sitting down on the seat of her choice, she might, surely, one would think, have ended a mysteriously difficult situation by rising again and departing, of course, with due dignity. But no, she could not. She wished to do so, but she could not command her limbs. She just sat there in horridest torture, like a stoical fly

on a pin, one of those flies that pretend that nothing hurts. The agony might have been prolonged to centuries had not an extremely startling and dramatic thing happened, the most startling and dramatic thing that ever happened, either to James Ollerenshaw or to the young woman. James Ollerinshaw spoke, and I imagined that nobody was more surprised than James Ollerinshaw by his brief speech, which slipped out

of him quite unawares. What he said was, well, las, how good is it like if the town could have heard him, the town would have rustled from boundary to boundary with agitated and delicious whisperings. The young woman, instead of being justly incensed by this monstrous monestation from an aged villain who had not been introduced to her, gave a little jump as they relieved from the spell of an enchantment, and then deliberately turned and faced mister Ollerenshaw.

She also smiled amid her roses. Very well. Indeed, thank you, she replied, primly but nicely. Upon this, they both of them sought to recover from an affair that had occurred in the late seventies. In the late seventies, James Ollerenshaw had been a young old man of nearly thirty. He'd had a step brother much older and much poorer than himself, and the step brother had died, leaving a daughter named Susan, almost but not quite

in a state of indigence. The step brother and James had not been on terms of effusive cordiality, but James was perfectly ready to look after Susan. His step niece, Susan, aged seventeen years, was, however, not perfectly ready to be looked after she had a little money, and she earned a little by painting asters on toilet ware, and the chet was very rude to her step uncle. In less than a year she married a youth of

twenty who apparently had not in him even the rudiments of worldly successfulness. James Oronshaw did his of uncle a duty by formally and grimly protesting against the marriage. What authority has a step uncle. Susan divided him with a maximum of unforgettable impoliteness, and she went to live with her husband at Longshaw, which is at the other end of the Five towns. The fact became public that a solemn quarrel existed between James and Susan, and that each of them had

sworn not to speak until the other spoke. James would have forgiven if she had hinted at reconciliation, and hard as it is for youth to be in the wrong, Susan would have hint at reconciliation if James had not been so rich. The riches of James offended Susan's independence, not for millions, which have exposed herself to the suspicion that she had broken her oath. Because as tebuncle was a wealthy and childless man. She was, of course wrong,

nor was this her only indiscretion. She was so ridiculously indiscreet as to influence her husband in such a way that he actually succeeded in life. Had James perceived them to be struggling in poverty, he might conceivably have gone over to them and helped them in an augy of forgiving charity. But the success of young Rathbone falsified his predictions utterly, and was further an affront to him.

Thus the quarrel slowly crystallized into a permanent estrangement, a passive feud. Everybody got thoroughly accustomed to it and thought nothing of it, it being a social phenomenon not at all unique of its kind in the Five Towns. When fifteen years later Rathbone died in mid career, people thought that the feud would end,

but it did not. James wrote a letter of condolence to his niece, and even sent it to the longshore by special messenger in the tram car, but he had not heard of the death until the day of the funeral, and Missus Rathburne did not reply to his letter. Her independence and sensitiveness were again in the wrong. James did no more. He could not expect him to have done more. Missus Rathbone, like many widows of successful men,

was left poorly off, but she managed once. Five years before the scene on the park Terrace, Missus Rathburne and James had encountered one another by hazard on the platform of Night Railway station. Destiny hesitated while Susan waited for James's recognition, and James waiting for Susan's recognition. Both of them waited too long. Destiny averted its head and drew back, and the relatives passed on their ways without speaking. James observes with interest a gird of twenty by Susan's

side. Her daughter, This daughter of Susan's, was now sharing the park bench with him. Hence the hidden drama of their meeting, of his speech, of her reply, what's your name? Lass Helen Eli mott Helen, great step uncle, said she? He laughed, and she laughed. Also, the fact was that he'd been aware of her name vaguely. It had come to him on the wind or by some bird's wing, although none of his acquaintances had been courageous enough to speak to him about the affair of Susan

for quite twenty years past. Longshaw is as far from Bursley in some ways as San Francisco from New York. There are people in Bersley who do not know the name of the mayor of Longshaw, who made a point of not knowing it. Yet news travels even from Longshaw to Bursley by mysterious channels, and Helen Rathburne's name had so traveled. James Oronshaw was glad that she was

just Helen. He'd been afraid that there might be something fancy between Helen and Rathbone, something expensive and aristocratic that went with her dress and her parasol. He logically liked her for being called merely Helen, as if the credit were hers. Helen was an old orang show name, his grandmother's who'd been attached to the household of Josiah Wedgwood, and his aunt's Helen was historic in his mind, and further, it could not be denied that Rathburne was a fine

old five talents name too. He was very illogical that afternoon. He threw over the principles of a lifetime, arguing from particulars to generals exactly like a girl. He'd objected always to the expensive and the aristocratic. He was proud of his pure Plebeian blood, as many Polians are. He'd lare it in it. He disliked show with a calm and deep aversion. He was a plain man with a simple, unnoscestagious taste for money. The difference between Helen's

name and her ornamental raiment gave him pleasure in the name. But he had not been examining her for more than half a minute when he began to find pleasure in her rich clothes, rich that is, to him. Quite suddenly, he, at the age of sixty, abandoned without an effort, his dear prejudice against fine feathers, and began for the first time to take joy

in sitting next to a pretty and well dressed woman. And all this not from any broad philosophic perception that fine feathers have their proper part in the great scheme of cosmic evolution, but because the check dress suititor and the heavy, voluptuous parasol suititor and the long black gloves were inexplicably effective. Women grew old, women ceased to learn, but men never As for Helen. She liked him, She had liked him for five years ever since his mother had pointed

him out on the platform of Night railway station. She saw him closer now he was older than she had been picturing him. Indeed, the lines on his little, rather wisened face, and the minanute sproutings of gray white hair in certain spots on his reddish chin where he had shaped himself badly, caused her somehow to feel quite sad. She thought of him as a dear old thing, and then as a dear old darling, yes, old, very

old. Nevertheless, she felt maternal towards him. She felt that she was much wiser than he was, and that she could teach him a great deal. She saw very clearly how wrong he and her mother had been with their stupidly terrific quarrel. And the notion of all the happiness which she had missed in his solitary, unfeminized bachelor existence nearly brought into her eyes tears of a

quick and generous sympathy. He blind and shabby ancient, had no suspicion that his melancholy state and the notion of all the happiness he had missed had tinged with sorrow of the heart within the frock, and added a dangerous humidity to the glance under the sunshade. It did not occur to him that he was an object of pity, nor that a vast store of knowledge was waiting to be poured into him. The aged self satisfied, wag Beard imagined that he

conducted his career fairly well. He knew no one with whom he would have changed places. He regarded Helen as an extremely agreeable little thing, with an absurd air of being grown up decidedly in five years. She had tremendously altered five years ago she been gawky. Now well, he was proud of her. She caught him great step uncle, thus conferring on him a sort of

part proprietorship in her, and he was proud of her. The captain of the Burning Club came along, and James Ollerinshaw gave him just such a casual nod as he might I had it given to a person of no account. The knat seemed to say, match this if you can. It's mine, and there's nothing in the town to beat it. Missus Proctor herself hasn't got more style than this. Of this missus Proctor More later, Helen soon settled

down into a condition of ease, which put an end to blushing. She knew she was a mad What you doing in Bosley, James demanded, I'm living here, busy, she reported, smartly living here? He stopped, and his hard old heart almost stopped too. If not in morning, she was in semi morning. Surely Susan had not the effrontery to die away in Longshore without telling him. Mother is married again, said Helen, lightly married. He was staggered. The wind was knocked out of him. Yes,

and gone to Canada. Helen added, You pick up your paper in the morning and idly and slady peruse advertisements on the first page. Forget it, eat some bacon, grumble at the youngest boy opened the paper, read the breach of promised case on page three, Drop it and ask your wife for more coffee hot, dance at your letters again. Then reopen the paper at the news page, and find that the Czar of Rush has been murdered and

a few American cities tumbled to fragments by an earthquake. You know how you feel, then, James Oronshaw felt like that the captain of the Bowning club. However, poising a bowl in his right hand and waiting for James Oronshaw to leave his silken dalliants saw nothing but an old man and a young woman sitting on a corporation seat. End of chapter two, Chapter three of hel Him with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is in the

public domain. Recording by Simon Evers, Chapter three, Marrying off a mother, Yes, said in Rathbourne mother fell in love? Don't you think it was funny? That's as maybe? James Holleranshaw replied, in his quality of the wise acre, who is accustomed to be sagacious on the least possible expenditure of words. We both thought it was awfully funny, Helen said, both. Who else is there? Why? Mother and I? Of course we used to laugh for a bit. You see, Mother is a very simple

creature, and she's only forty four. She's above forty four, James corrected, She told me she was thirty nine five years ago. Henny protested, Did she tell ye she was forty four years ago? No, at least they don't remember. Did ye ever tell ye she was forty? No happened. She's not such a simple creature as you thought for me, lass observed James Oronshaw. You don't mean to infer, said Helen with cold dignity,

that my mother would tell me a lie. All as I mean is that Susan was about thirty nine, five years ago, and I could prove it. I had to get her birth certificate when her father died, and I fancy I've got it by me yet. And his eyes added so much from that point one to me. Helen blushed and frowned and looked up into the darkling heaven of her parasol. And then it occurred to her that her wisest

plan would be to laugh. So she laughed. She laughed in almost precisely the same manner as James had heard Susan laugh thirty years previously, before love had come into Susan's life like a shell into a fortress and finally blown their fragile relations all to pieces. A few minutes earlier, the sight of great step uncle James had filled heaven with sadness, and he had not suspected it. Now her laugh filled James with sadness, and she did not suspect it.

In his sadness However, he was glad that she laughed so naturally, and that the somber magnificence of her dress and her gloves and parasol did not prevent her from opening her rather large mouth and showing her teeth. It was just like mother to Tommy Fibbs about her age, said Helen generously. It is always interesting to observe the transformation of a lie into a fib And I shall write and tell her she's a horrid mean thing. I shall write to

her this very night. So Susan's gone and married again, James murmured reflectively. Helen now definitely turned the whole of her mortal part towards James, so that she fronted him and her feet were near his. He also turned in response to this diplomatic advance, and leant his right elbow on the back of the seat and his chin on his right palm. He put his left leg of his right leg, and thus his left foot swayed like a bird on

a twig within an inch of Helen's flounce. The parasol covered the faces of the just and the unjust impartially. I suppose you don't know a farmer named Pratt that used to have a farm near Snade, said Helen. Can't say as I do, said James. Well that's the man, said Helen. He used to come to Longshore cattle market with sheep and things. Sheep and things, echoed James. What things? Oh I don't know, said Henlen sharply, sheep and things. And what did your mother take to Longshore cattle

market? James inquired. I understood as she let lodgings. Not since I've been a teacher, said Helen, rather more sharply. Mother didn't take anything to the cattle market. But you know our house was just close to the cattle market. No I didn't, said James, stoutly. I thought, as it was in Ainstea Street. Oh that's years ago, said Helen, shocked by his ignorance. We've lived in Stade Road for years years. I'm

not denied, said James. The great fault of our house, had him proceeded, was that mother dent stare out of it on cattle market days. Why not cows, said Helen rather simply. Can't look at her cow, and they were passing all the time. She should be thankful as it wasn't bulls, James put in, But I mean bulls too, exclaimed Helen. In fact, it was a bull that led to it. What the father saved her from a mad bull, and she fell in love with him. He's younger than her. I lay, how did you know that? Head

in questions. Besides, he isn't they're just the same age forty four perceiving delicious danger in the virgin's face, James continued before she could retort, I hope Susan wasn't good. You're quite wrong. You're jumping to conclusions, said Helen, with an air of indulgence that would have been exasperating had it not been enchanting. Things don't happen like that except in novels. I've never read a novel in my life, James defended himself, Afritieu, Ho'm interesting,

but I've known a woman kno down by a bull. Well, anyhow, Mother wasn't not down by a bull. But there was a mad bull running down the street. It had escaped from the market, and mister Bratt was walking home and the bull was after him like a shot. Mother was looking out of the window and she saw what was going on. So she rushed to the front door and opened it and called to mister Bratt to run in and take shelter, and therein just got the door shut in time. Bless

us, muttered James. And what next? Why I came home from school and found them having tea together? A ninety year between them, James reflected. Then mister Bratt called every week. He was a widower with no children. Couldn't have been better, said James. Always he could, said Helen, because I had the greatest difficulty in marrying them. In fact, at one time I thought I should never do it. I'm always in the right and Mother's always in the wrong. She's admitted that for years. She's had

to admit it, but she would go her own way. Nothing would ever cure mother. She used to talk just like that of your grandfather, said James. Susan Ohah's reckoned as she got more than her fair share of sense. I don't think she thinks that now, said Helen, calmly, as if to say, at any rate, I've cured her of that. Then she went on, You see, mister Bratt has sold his farm, couldn't make it pay, and he was going out to Manitoba. He said he

would stop in England. Mother said she wouldn't let him stop in England where he couldn't make a farm pay. She was quite right there, and admitted with careful justice. But then she said she wouldn't marry him and go out to Manitoba because I'd leave him me alone here to look after myself. Can you imagine such a reason? James manly raised his head quickly several times.

The gesture meant whatever. Helen preferred that it should mean the idea, she continued, as if I hadn't looked after mother and kept her in order, and myself too for several years. No, she wouldn't marry him and go out there, and she wouldn't marry him and stay here. She actually began to talk all the usual conventional sort of stuff, you know, about how she had no right to marry again, and she didn't believe in second marriages, and about her duty to me and so on. You know. I

reason mother. I explained to her that probably if she had another thirty years to live, I told her she was quite young. She is she to make herself permanently miserable, and mister Bratt and me merely out of a quiet mistaken sense of duty. No use, I've tried everything I could no use. She was too much for ye Oh no, said Heaven, condescendingly. I've made up my mind. I arranged things from mister Bratt. He quite

agreed with me. He took out a license at the registrars, and one Saturday morning had to be a Saturday, cause I'm busy all the other days. I went out with mother to buy the meat and things for Sodi's dinner, and I got her into the registrar's office. Um, well, there she was. Now, what do you think what her last excuse was that she couldn't be married because she's wearing her third best hat? Don't you think it's awfully funny? That's as may be, said James. When was all

this just recently? Hennen answered, They sailed from Glasgow last Thursday but two and I must bet to your letter by ever repose to say that they've arrived safely and Susan's left you to take care of yourself. Now, please don't begin talking like mother, Henden said frigidly. I've certainly got less to take care of now than I had. Mother quite saw that, But what difficulty I had in getting her off, even after i'd safely married her. I had to promise that if I felt lonely, i'd go and join them.

But I shan't. You won't. No, I don't see myself on a farm in Manitoba, do you. I don't know, as I do, said James, examining her appearance with the constant increase of his pride in it. So he saw a or more at Glasgow. I reckon she made a great fuss fuss cried, Oh, yes, of course did you cry? Miss? Of course, I cried, said henleyn passionately, sitting up straight. Why do you ask such questions? And also never see Susan again? Of course I shall go over and see them, said Helelen only meant that

I shouldn't go to stop. I dare say I should go next year in the Holidays and of chapter three, chapter four of Helen with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This Libri Fox recording is in the public domain recording by Simon Evers, Chapter four, Invitation to Tea. They were most foolishly happy

as they sat there on the bench. This man, whose dim eyes ought to have been waiting placidly for the ship of death to appear above the horizon, and this young girl who imagined that she knew all about life and the world. When I say that they were foolishly happy, I of course mean that they were most wisely happy, each of them being gifted with common sense and with a certain imperviousness to sentimentality which invariably accompanies common sense. They did

not mar the present by regretting the tragic stupidity of a long estrangement. They did not mourn, ever, wasted years that could not be recalled. It must be admitted in favor of the Five towns that when its inhabitants spill milk, they do not usually sit down on the pavement and adulterate the milk with their tears. They pass on. Such passing on is termed callous and cold hearted in the rest of England, which loves to sit down on pavements and

weak into irretrieverable milk. Nor did Helen and her great step uncle mother present by worrying about the future. It never occurred to them to be disturbed by

the possibility that milk not already spilt, might yet be spilt. Helen had been momentarily saddened by private reflections upon what James Holleranshaw had missed in his career, and James had been saddened somewhat less by reminiscences which had sprung out of Helen's laugh, but their melancholiest had rapidly evaporated from the warmth of the unexpected

encounter. They liked one another. She liked him because he was old and dry, and because he had a short laugh and a cynical and even wicked gleam of the eye that pleased her, And because there was an occasional tone in his voice that struck her as deliciously masculine, ancient, and indulgent.

And because he had spoken to her first, and because his gaze wandered with an admiring interest over her dress and up into the dome of her sunshade, and because he put his chin in his palm and leant his head towards her,

and because the skin of his hand was so crinkled and glossy. And he liked her because she was so exquisitely fresh and candid, so elegant, so violent and complete a contrast to James Holleranshaw, so absurdly sagacious and sure of herself, And perhaps because of a curve in her cheek, and a

mysterious suggestion of eternal enigma in her large and liquid eye. When she looked right away from him, as she sometimes did in the conversation, the outline of her soft cheek, which drew in at the eye and swelled out again to the temple, resembled a map of the coast of some smooth romantic country not mentioned in geographies. When she looked at him well, the effect on him astonished him, but it enchanted him. He was discovering for the first

time the soul of a girl. If he was a little taken aback, he is to be excused the younger men than he had been taken aback by that discovery. But James honor in Shaw did not behave as a younger man would have behaved. He was more like some one who, having heard tell of the rose for sixty years, and having paid no attention to rumor, suddenly sees a rose in early bloom. At his age, one knows how

to treat a flower, one knows what flowers are for. It was no doubt this knowledge of what flowers are for that almost led to the spilling of milk at the very moment, when milk spinning seemed in a high degree improbable. The conversation had left Susan and her caprices and had reached Helen and her solid wisdom. But you haven't told me what you're doing at Bosley, said the old man. I've told you. I'm living here, said Helen. I've now been living here for one week and one day. I am teaching

at the park Board School. I got transferred from Longshore. I'd have anye at Longshore, and I always like a change, Yes, said order in Shaw, judiciously of the two. I reckon as Bosley as the frying pan. So you're teaching up yonder. He jerked his elbow in the direction of the spacious and imposing terracotta board school, whose front looked on the eastern gates of the park. What does teach, oh everything? Henn In replied. You must be very useful to him, said James. What do they pay

you for teaching everything? Seventy two pounds, said Helen a month. It'll be cheap at a hundred lass unless there's the whole crowd and easy can teach everything? Can you sew? So? She exclaimed, I've given lessons in sewing for years, and cookery and mathematics. I used to give evening lessons in mathematics at Longshore Secondary School. Great step uncle James gazed at her.

It was useless for him to try to pretend to himself that he was not secretly struck all of a heap by the wonders of the living organism in front of him. He was, and this shows that he was a wise man and an experience. How ignorant he was of the world, But I do not think he was more ignorant of the world than most wise and experienced men are. He conceived Helen Rathbone as an extraordinary and amazing creature. Nothing of

the kind. There are simply thousands of agreeable and good girls who can accomplish herring bone omelets and simultates equations in a breath. As it were. They were all over the Kingdom and may be seen in the streets and lanes thereof about half past eight in the morning and again about five o'clock in the evening. But the fact is not generally known. Only the stern and blazy members of school boards or education committees know it, and they are so used to

marvels that they make nothing of them. However, James orange Shaw had no intention of striking his flag. Mathematics, he murmured, ay, Leah, you can't tell me the interest on eighty nine bounds for six months at four and a half percent consuls happened to be at eighty nine that day. Her lips curled. I'm really quite surprised you should encourage me to gamble, said she. But I met you a shinning I can, and I've been one shinny against half a crown that I'll do it in my head if you like,

and if I lose, i'll pay. She made a slight movement, and he noticed for the first time that she was carrying a small purse as black as her love. He hesitated. Then he proved what a wise and experienced man he was. No, he said, I nun bet ye las. He had struck his flag. It is painful to be compelled to reinforce the old masculine statement that women have no sense of humor? But have they? Helen Sherely saw that he had hauled down his flag. Did she cease

firing? Not a bit. She gave him a shattering broadside, while knowing that he had surrendered. Her disregard. If the ethics of warfare was deplorable, two pounds and one half penny to the nearest farthing, said she, a faint blush, crimsoning her cheek, Mister Orangehaw glanced round at the burning green, where the Captain in vain tried to catch his eye, and then the groups of children playing on the lower terraces. I main't no doubt ye

can play the piano, he remarked, when he had recovered. Certainly, she replied, not that we have to teach the piano, no, but it's understood all the same that one or another of us could play marches for the children to walk and drill to. In fact, she added, for something less than thirty sillings a week. We do pretty nearly everything except build the schools. And soon they'll be expecting us to build the schools in our spare time, she spoke bitterly, as the natives of the Congo Free State

might refer to the late king of the Belgians. Thirty shillings a week, said James, acting with fine histrionic skill. I thought it is, said seventy two pounds a month. Oh no, you didn't, she protested, firmly, so don't try to tease me. I never joke about money. Money's a very serious thing. There's a chip off the old block, he told himself, delighted when he explained matters to himself, for when he grew angry, he always employed the five times dialect in its purest form. You

must be same as them hospital nurses, he said aloud. You do it because you like it, for love of it, as they say, I like it, I hate it. I hate any sort of work. What fun do you suppose there is in teaching end as stupid children, and stuffing in classrooms all day, and correcting exercises and propelling sewing all night. Course, they can't help being stupid. It's that that's so amazing. You can't help being kind to them. They're so stupid. If you didn't do that,

what should you do? James inquired. I shouldn't do anything unless I was forced, said she. I don't want to do anything except to enjoy myself, read, play the piano, pay visits, and have plenty of really nice clothes. Why should I want to do anything? I can tell you this. If I didn't need money, I never go inside that school

again or any other. She was heated. Don't you mean to say, he asked, with an ineffable intonation, that Susan, and that there, young farmer, I've gone gadding off to Canada and left you all alone with nothing. Of course they haven't, said Hellyn. Why mother is the most generous old thing you can possibly imagine. She'd left all her own income to me. Oh much, Well, it comes to rather over thirty shillings a

week. And can't a single woman live on thirty shillings a week? Bliss us, I don't spend thirty sillings a week myself, Helen raised her chin. A single woman can live on thirty shillings a week, she said, But what about her frocks? Well, what about her frocks? He repeated, Well, she said, I like frocks. Just happens that I can't do without frocks. It's just frocks that I work for. I spend nearly all I earn on them, And her eyes descending seemed to say, look

at the present example, seventy pounds a year on yet clothes. You're not serious, lass, She looked at him coldly. I am serious, she said, experience as he was. He had never come across a fact so incredible as this fact, and the compulsion of believing it occupied his forces to such an extent that he had no force left to be wise. He did not observe the icy darting challenge in her eye, and ignored the danger in her voice. All that I can say is you ought to be ashamed of

yourself, lass, he said sharply. The reflection was blown out of him by the expansion of his feelings. Seventy pounds a year on clothes. He too was serious now. James hollerin Shaw was not the first person whom Headn's passion for clothes had driven into indiscretions. Her mother, for example, had

done battle with that passion and had been defeated with heavy loss. I had mistress, and a chairman of a school board, a pompous coward, had also suffered severely, And though Helen had been the victor, she had not one without some injury to her nerves. Her campaigns and conquests had left her on this matter touchy, as the word is used in the Five Times, I shall be very much obliged if you will not speak to me in that dawn, said she, because I cannot permit it, either from you or

from any other man. When I venture to criticize your private life, I should expect you to criticize mine, and not before. I don't want to be rude, but I hope you will understand. Great step bungle. The milk was within the twentieth of an inch of the brim. James Orangshaw blushed as red as head, and herself had blushed at the beginning of their acquaintance. A girl, the daughter of the chit Susan to address him, so

she had the incomparable insolence of her mother. Yes, thirty years ago, Susan had been just as rude to him, but he was thirty years younger. Then, he was not a sage of sixty. Then he continued to blush. He is raging. Indeed, it would no exaggeration to serve that his health was momentarily imperil. He glanced for an instant at Helen and saw

that her nostrils were twitching. Then he looked hurriedly away and rose. The captain of the burning tub excusably assumed that James was at length going to attack the serious business of the day. Now, mister Holleran shaw. The captain called out, and his tone implied gently, don't you think you've kept me waiting long enough? Women are women, but a balling match is a bawling match. James turned his back on the captain, moved off, and then,

how come on explain it? He realized that in the last six words of Helen's speech there had been a note, a hint, a mere nothing, of softness, of regret for paying caused. He realized further the great universal natural law that, under any circumstances, no matter what they may be, when any man, no matter who he may be, differs from any pretty and well dressed woman, no matter who she may be, he is

in the wrong. He saw that it was useless for serious, logical, high minded persons to inveigh against the absurdity of this law, and to call it bad names. The law of gravity is absurd and indefensible when you fall downstairs, but you obey it. He returned to Helen, who braved him at his eyes. Come off home, he said, hoarsely, it's me

tea time. Good afternoon, she replied with amiability upon Y'll come along with me, like the use of that word like at the end of an interrogative sentence in the Five Times is the subject upon which a book ought to be written, but not this history. The es central point observe is that Helen got up from the bench and said, with adorable sweetness, why I should be charmed to come? What a perfect old darling he is, she said to herself, end of chapter four, Chapter five of hel Him with the

High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Simon Evers, Chapter five a salutation. As they walked down Mowthorne Road towards the town, they suddenly made a couple piquornt enough by reason of the excessive violence of the contrast between them, to amuse the eye of the beholder.

A young and pretty woman who spends seventy pounds a year on her ornamentations, walking by the side of a little old man, she had the better of him by an inch who probably not spent seventy pounds on clothes in sixty years. Such a spectacle must have drawn attention even in the least attentive of

towns, and Bursley is far from the least attentive of towns. James and his great step niece had not got as far as the new Independent Chapel when it was known in the sin Luke Square, a long way farther on that they were together, a tram car had flown forward with the interest. In fact, from that moment, of course, the news, which really was great news, spread itself over the town with the rapidity of a perfume.

No corner could escape it. All James's innumerable tenants seemed to sniff it simultaneously, and that evening in the mouth of the entire town, I am licensing myself to a little poetical exaggeration. There was no word but the word Jimmy. Their converse as they descended into the town was not effective. It was indeed feeble. There had fought a brief but better deal, and James Oranghaw

had been severely wounded. His dignity bled freely. He made, strange, to say, scarcely any attempt to staunch the blood, which might have continued to flow for a considerable time had not a diversion occurred. It is well known that the dignity will only bleed while you watch it. Avert your eyes, and it instantly dries up. The diversion, apparently of a trifling character, had in truth and enormous importance, though the party's concern did not perceive

this till later. He consisted in the passing of Missus Proctor and her stepson, Emmanuel Proctor, up Duck Bank, as James and Helen were passing down Duck Bank. Missus Proctor, who by reason of the rare quay in her name, regarded herself as the sole genuine in a district full of Proctors, may be described as the diadur of Bursley, the custodian of its respectability and the summit of its social ladder. He could not climb higher than Missus Proctor.

She lived at Hillport, and even in that haughty suburb there was none who dared palter with an invitation from Missus Proctor. She was stout and deliberate. She had waving flowers in her bonnet, and pictures of flowers on her silken gown, and a gray mantle. Much of her figure preceded her as she walked. Her stepson had a tenor voice and a good tailor. His age was thirty. Now Missus Procter was simply nothing to James Oliver in Shaw. They knew each other by sight, but their orbits did not touch.

James would have gone by Missus Proctor as indifferently as he would have borne by a policeman or a lamp post. As for Emmanuel, James held him in mild benignant contempt. But when as the two pairs approached one another, James perceived Emmanuel furtively shifting his gold headed cane from his right hand to his left, and then actually raising his hat to Helen, James swiftly lost his indifference. He also nearly lost his presence of mind. He was utterly unaccustomed to

such crises. Despite his wealthy indifference to Missus Proctor, despite his distinguished scorn of Emmanuel, despite the richness of Helen's attire, he was astounded and deeply impressed to learn that Helen had the acquaintance of people like the Proctor's. Further, except at Gravesides, James Orangshaw had never in his life raised his hat. Had raising formed no part of his code of manners. In his soul,

he looked upon hat raising as affected. He believed that all people who raised hats did so from a snobbish desire to put on airs hat raising was rather like saying please, only worse. Happily, his was one of those strong, self reliant natures that can, when there is no alternative, face the most frightful situations with unthumping heart. He kept his presence of mind and decided in the fraction of a second what he must do. The faculty of

instant's decision is indispensable to safety in these swift rising crises. He raised his hat, praying that Helen would not stop to speak. Not gracefully, not but the beauteous curves of an Ammanuel. Did he raise his hat, but he raised it. His prayer was answered there his chest said to Helen, if you thought I didn't know how to behave to your conceited acquaintances, you were mistaken. And his causual roving eye pretended that hat raising was simply the

most ordinary thing on earth. Such was the disturbing incident which ended the bleeding of his dignity. In order to keep up the pretense that hat raising was a normal function of his daily life, he was obliged to talk freely, and he did talk freely. But neither he nor Helen said a word as to the proctor's end of chapter five Chapter six of Heading with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Simon

Evers, Chapter six Missus Butt's departure. James Honrainshaw's house was within a few hundred yards at the top of Trafalgar Road, on the way from Bursley to

Hanbridge. I may not indicate the exact house, but I can scarcely conceal that it lay between numbers one hundred and sixty and one hundred and eighty on the left as you go up. It was one of the oldest houses in the street, and though bullet into difficults by sundry detached and semi detached fillers opposite parises occupied by reckless persons who think nothing of paying sixty or even sixty five pounds a year for rent alone, it kept a certain individuality and distinction

because it had been conscientiously built of good brick before English domestic architecture had lost trace of the Georgian style. First, he went up two white steps white in theory, through a little gate in a wrought iron railing painted the color of peas after they been cooked in a bad restaurant. You then found yourself in a little front yard twelve feet in width the whole width of the house

by six feet in depth. The yard was paved with large square Indian red tiles, except a tiny circle in the midst bordered with black currant colored tiles set endwise with a scalloped edge. This magical cirta contained earth, and in the center of it was a rhododendron bush, which, having fallen into lazy habits of forgotten the art of flowering, its leaves were a most pessimistic version of the tint of the railing. The facade of the house comprised three windows

and a door. Letter to say, a window and a door on the ground floor, and two windows above. The brickwork was assuredly admirable. James had it pointed every few years. Over the windows, the bricks of special shapes were arranged as in a flat arch with a keystone that jutted slightly. The panes of the windows were numerous and small. Inside, on the sashes they long thin scarlet sausages of red cloth and sawdust to keep out the drafts.

The door was divided into eight small panels with elaborate beadings, and over it was a delicate fanlight, one of about a score in Bursley, to remind the observer of a lost elegance. Between the fan light and the upstairs window, exactly above it was a rusty armed plaque with vestiges in guilt of the word phoenix. It had been put there when fire insurance had still the fancied charm of novelty. Heaven looked delicious in the yard, gazing pensively at

the slothful rhododendron. While James Olleranshaw opened his door, she was seen by two electric cars full of people. For although James's latch key was very highly polished and the lock well oiled, he never succeeded in opening his door at the first attempt. It was a capricious door. You could not be sure of opening it any more than beau Brummel could be sure of tying his cravat.

It was a muse that had to be wooed. But when it did open, you perceived that there were no half measures about that door, for it let you straight into the house. To open it was like taking down part of the wall. No lobby, all or vestibule behind that door. One instant you were in the yard. The next you were in the middle of the sitting room, and through a doorway at the back of the sitting room you could see the kitchen, and beyond that the scullery, and beyond

that a back yard with a white washed wall. James Orangshaw went in first, leaving Helen to follow. He had learnt much in the previous hour, but there was still one or two odd things left for him to learn. Ah. He breathed, shut the door and hung up his hard hat on the inner face of it. Sit you down, Las, So she sat her down. It must be said that she looked as if she had made a mistake and got on to the wrong side of Trafalgar Road. The sitting

room was a crowded and shabby little apartment, though clean. There was a list carpet over the middle of the floor, which was tiled, and in the middle of the carpet a small square table with flap sides. On this table was a full rigged ship on a stormy sea, and a glass box, some resin, a large stone bottle of ink, a ready reckna Whittaker's Almanac paper edition, a foot rule, and a bright brass candlestick above the table. There hung from the ceiling a string with a ball of fringed paper,

designed for the amusement of flowing eyes. At the window was a flat desk on which were transacted the affairs of mister Oleranshaw when he stationed hi sofa at it. In the seat of custom men of judgment. Defaulting tenants, twirling caps or twisting aprons had a fine view of the left side of his face. He usually talked to them while staring out of the window. Before

this desk was a windsor chair. There were eight other windsor chairs in the room and in the city, on one that had not been sat upon for years and years. A teeming but idle population of chairs. A horse air arm chair seemed to be the sultan of the seraglio of chairs. Opposite the window a modern sideboard which might have cost two nineteen six. When New completed

the Tale of Furniture, the general impression was one of fullness. The low ceiling and the immense harvest of overblown blue roses, which climbed luxuriantly up the walls intensified this effect. The mantelpiece was crowned with brass ornaments, and there were two complete sets of brass fire arms in the brass fender above the mantel piece. A looking glass in a one frame of bird's eye maple with rounded corners reflected Helen's hat. Henen abandoned the windsor chair and tried the arm chair,

and then stood up. Which jar do you recommend? She asked, nicely, bless ye Child'll never sit here except at the desk. I sept the kitchen. A peculiarity of houses in the Five Towns is that rooms are seldom calls by their right names. It is the point of honor among the self respecting and industrious classes to prepare a room elaborately for a certain purpose,

and then not to use it for that purpose. Thus, James Orangshaw's sitting room, though surely few apartments, could show more facilities than it showed for sitting, was not used as a sitting room but as an office. The kitchen, that it contained a range, was not used as a kitchen but as a sitting room. The scullery, though it had no range, was filled with a gas cooking stave and used as a kitchen, and the back yard was used as a culery. This arrangement never struck anybody as singular.

It did not strike even Helen as singular. Her mother's house had exhibited the same oddness until she reorganized it. If James orange Shaw had not needed an office, his sitting room would have languished into suetude. The fact is that the fifty inhabitants of the five towns save a room as they save money. If that have an income of six rooms, they will live on five, or rather in five, and therefore take pride to themselves. Somewhat nervous,

James feigned to glance at the rent books on the desk. Helen's eyes swept the room. I suppose you have a good servant, she said. I other woman as comes in, said James. But there isn't in the house at the moment. This latter statement was a wilful untruth on James's part. He distinctly caught a glimpse of missus Butt's figure as he entered. Well, said Helen, kindly, it's quite nice. I'm sure he must be very comfortable for a man. But of horse, one can see at once that

no woman lives here. Oh, he demanded, naively, Oh, she answered I don't know, but one can. Don't mean to say it. It isn't clean, Lass, The brasses are very clean, said Helen. Such astonishing virtuosity in the art of innuendo is the privilege of one's sex. Only come into the kitchen, lass, said James, after he had smiled into a corner of the room, and take off them gloves and things. But great, stepuncle, I can't stay yer, stop for tea, said

he firmly. Or my name isn't James orr in Shaw. He preceded her into the kitchen. The door between the kitchen and the scullery was half closed. In the aperture, he again had a momentary but distinct glimpse of the eye of missus butt. I do lie at this room, said Helen, enthusiastically. I'll interrupt viewer. The back yard, said orang Shaw. See iran alas He indicated an article of furniture which stood in front of the range at a distance of perhaps six feet from it, cutting the room in half.

This contrivance may be called a sofa, or it may be called a couch, but it could only be popularly described by the Midland word for it squab. No other term is sufficiently expressive. Its seat, five feet by two, was very broad and very low, and had at a steep high back and sides. All its angles were right angles. It was everywhere comfortably padded, It yielded everywhere to firm pressure, and it was covered with a gray and green striped stuff. You could not sit on that squab and be

in a draft. Yet behind it, lest the impossible should arrive, was a heavy curtain hung on an iron rod, which crossed the room from wall to wall. Not much imagination was needed to realize the joy and ecstasy of losing yourself on that squab on a winter afternoon, with a range far roaring in your face, and the curtain drawn abaft. Hennen assumed the mathematical center

of the squab and began to arrange her skirts in cascading folds. She posed her parasol in a corner of it, as though the squab had been a railway carriage, which indeed it did somewhat resemble. By the way, lad, what's that a swishes, James demanded, what's what? What's that? As swishes? She looked puzzled for an instant, then laughed a frank, gay laugh light and bright as aluminium, such as the kitchen had never before heard. Oh, she said, it's me new silk betticoat. I suppose

you mean that? She brusquely moved her limbs, reproducing the unique con dedicious rustle of concealed silk. Aye ejaculated the old man. I mean that. Here's it's misilk betticourt. Do you like it? I haven't seen it last. She bent down and lifted the hem of her dress just two inches, the discreetest, the modestest gesture. He had a transient vision of something fair. It was gone again. I don't know as I dislike it, said

he. He was standing facing her, his back to the range and his head on a level with the high, narrow mantelpiece, upon which littered a row of small tin canisters. Suddenly he turned to the corner of the right of the range, where next to an oak cupboard, a velvet Turkish smoking cap depended from a nail. He put on the cap of which the long tassel curved down to his ear. Then he faced her again, putting his hands behind him and raising himself at intervals on his small, well polished toes.

She lifted her two hands simultaneously to her head and began to draw pins from her hat, which pins she placed one after another between her lips. Then she lawed the hat carefully from her head and transfixed it anew with the pins. Will you mind hanging it on that nail, she requested. He took as it had been, of glass, and hung it on the nail without her hat. She looked as if she had lived there a jewel in

a pipe case. She appeared to be just as much at home as he was, and there was so at home together that there was no further necessity to strain. After a continuous conversation. With a vague smile, she gazed round and about at the warm, cracked, smooth red tiles of the floor, at the painted green walls, at a windsor chair near the cupboard, a solitary chair that had evidently been misunderstood by the large family relatives in the

other room and sent it to exile. At the pair of bellows that hung on the wall above the chair, and the rich gordoness of the grocer's almanac above the bellows. At the tea table with its coarse gray cloth and thick crockery spread beneath the window. So you have all your meals here, she ventured, Aye, he said, I'll I'll call my meals here. Why, she cried, don't you enjoy them? I hate em? He said? What time do you have tea? She inquired? Four o'clock, said

he sharp. But it's a quarter two now, she exclaimed, pointing to a clock with weights at the end of brass chains and a long pendulum. And didn't you say your servant was out? Ay? He mysteriously lied, that's out, But I'll come back up and has gone to get a bit of fish or something fish. Do you always have fish for tea? Ah? Have what I'm given, he replied. I fancy a snack for me, tea, something tasty. You know why, she said, You just like me adore tea. I soon have tea than any other meal of the

day. But I never yet knew a servant who could get something tasty every day. Of course, it's quite easy if you know how to do it, but servants don't, that is to say, as a rule. But i'spect you've got a very good one, so so, James murmured. The trouble with servants is that they always think that if you like a thing one day, you like the same thing every day for the next three years. Aye, he said dryly. I esed to like her kidney, but it's

more than three years ago. He stuck his lips out and raised himself higher than ever on his toes. He did not laugh, but she laughed, almost boisterously. Ha ha, I can't help telling you, she said, you're perfectly lovely, great STI buncle. Are we both going to drink out of the same cup? In such manner did the current of her talk charrate and turned corners. He proached the cupboard. No, no, she sprang up. Let me, I'll do that, as the servant is so long.

And she opened the cupboard among a miscellony of crocks. Therein was a blue and white cup and saucer, and a plate to match underneath it that seemed out of place. There she lifted down the pile steady on. He answered her, why don't you choose that? Because I like it? She replied simply. He was silence. That's a bit of real sport, he said, as she put it on the table and dusted the several pieces with

a corner of the table. It won't be in any danger. She retorted, and then it comes to be washed up, so I'll stop afterwards and washed up myself there. Now, you can't find the teaspoons, miss he chanted her. I think I can, she said. She raised the tablecloth at the end, discover the knob of a drawer and opened it, and surely there were teaspoons. Can't I just take a peep into the scullery,

she begged, with a bewitching supplication, I won't stops. The only time his servant was back if she saw us, astrifully prompt as you say, I won't touch anything. Servants are so silly, they always think one wants to interfere with them. Without waiting for James's permission, she burst youthfully into the scullery. Oh, she exclaimed, there's someone here. Of course there

was, There was missus. But although the part played by Missus Butt and the drama was vehement and momentous, it was nevertheless so brief that a description of Missus Butt is hardly called for. Sufficed to say that she had so much waste as have had no waist, and that she possessed both a beard and a mustache. This curt catalog of her charms. Is unfair to her, But Missus Budd was ever the victim of unfairness. James Orangehaw looked audaciously

in at the door. It's missus, but said hest thought, as you were gone out. Good afternoon, Missus Bud. Henny began with candy pleasantness. A pause. Good afternoon, miss What have you got for uncle's tea to day? Something tasty? I've got this, said Missus Butt with candied unpleasantness, and she pointed to an oblate spheroid, the color of brick but smoother, which lay on a plate near the guest stove. It was a kidney. Huh from James. It's not cooked yet, I see, Hedden

observed, and the clock finished her remark. Nor missus not cooked, said Missus Budd. To tell you the honest truth, Miss, I've been learning to look looking this here kidney. She picked up the kidney in her pudding like hand and gazed at it. I'm glad the blastes is clean mis at any rate, for the house does look as though there was no woman about the place, and servants are silly. I'm thankful to heaven as the glasses is dean. Come into my scullery and welcome she ceased, still holding up

the kidney. Hum from uncle James. This repeated remark of his seemed to rouse the fury in her. You may hum, mister Ollronshaw, she lared at him, you may hum as much as you're a mind. And to elin come in, miss come in, don't be afraid of servants. And finally, with a striking instinct for theatrical effect, but I go out, She flung the innocent, yielding kidney to the floor, snatched up upon it, cast off her apron, and departed, where said James Ollerenshaw, you've

done it. End of chapter six, chapter seven of hel Him with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. The LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Simon Evers, Chapter seven, The New Cook. Ten minutes later, mister James Horonshaw stood alone in his kitchen sitting room, and he gazed at the door between the kitchen sitting room and the scullery. The door was shut,

that is to say, it was nearly shut. He'd been turned out of the scullery, not with violence, or rather with the sort of sweet violence that he liked and that had never before been administered to him by any human soul, an afternoon highly adventurous, an afternoon on which he had permitted himself to be insulted with worse than impunity to the insulter by the childish daughter of that chit Susan an afternoon on which he raised his hat to Missus Proctor.

A Saturday afternoon on which he had foregone on account of a woman his customery match at bulls. This afternoon was drawing to a close in a manner which piled thrilling event on thrilling event. Missus Butt had departed for unnumbered years. Missus Butt had miscooked his meals. The little house was almost inconceivable without Missus Butt, and Missus Butt had departed already. He missed her as one missus an ancient and supersensitive corn. If the simile may be permitted to one,

it is a simile not quite nice. But then Missus Butt was not quite nice either. The fault was not hers. She was born. So the dropping of the kidney with a PLoP by Missus Butt on the hard, unsympathetic floor of the scullery had constituted an extremely dramatic moment in three lives. Certainly, Missus Buck possessed a wondrous instinct for theatrical effect. Helen, on

the contrary, seemed to possess none. She had advanced nonstinately towards the kidney and delicately picked it up between finger and thumb and turned it over and then put it on a plate. That's a veal kidney, she had observed out. Sure it isn't the sheep's kidney, Lass, James had asked, carefully, imitating Helene's consoleance. Yes, she had said, I'll gother you are not patlately fond of Kidney's greatest stepuncle, She had asked, I was once What am going to do? Lass? I'm going to get our tea,

she had said. At the words our tea, the antique James Olleranshaw, who never thought to have such a sensation again, was most distinctly conscious of an agreeable, somewhat disturbing sensation of being tickled in the small of his back well. He had asked her what can I do? You can go out, she had replied, wouldn't it be a good thing for you to go out for a walk? Tea will be ready at half past four? I

go for no walk? He said positively. Yes, that's all right, she had murmured, but not in response to his flat refusal to obey her. She been opening the double cupboard and the five drawers which constituted the receptacles of the scullery larders. She been spying out the riches and the poverty of the establishment. Then she had turned to him, and instead of engaging him in battle, she had just smiled at him and said, very well as

he wished, but do go into the front room at any rate. And there he was in the middle room, the kitchen, listening to her movements. Behind the door, he heard the running of water, and then the mild explosion of lighting the second ring of the gas stove. The first had been lighted by missus Butt. Then he heard nothing whatever for years, And when he looked at the clock, it was fourteen minutes past four. In the act of looking at the clock, his eye had to traverse the region

of the sofa. On the sofa were one parasol and two gloves. Astonishing, singular, disconcerting. How those articles, which after all bore no kind of resemblance to any style of furniture or hangings, seemed, nevertheless, to refurnish the room to give the room an air of being thickly inhabited, which had never had before. Then she burst into the kitchen unexpectedly, with a swish of silk that was like the retreat of waves down the shingle of some

Atlantic shore. My dear uncle, she prosested, Please do make yourself scarce. You're in the way, and I'm very busy. She went to the cupboard and snatched at some plates, two of which she dropped on the table, and three of which she took into the kitchen. Have you got all you want? He questioned her, politely, anxious to be of assistance everything.

She answered positively, and with just the least hint of an intention to crush him, have you Indeed, he did not utter this exclamation aloud, but with it he applied balm to his secret breast, for he still remembered being an old man her crushing him in the park, and the peril of another crushing roused the mail in him. And it was with a sardonic and cruel satisfaction that he applied such balm to his secret breast. The truth was, he knew that she had not got all she wanted. He knew that

despite her extraordinary capableness, of which she was rather vain. Despite her ability to calculate mentally the interest on eighty nine pounds for six months at four and a half percent, she could not possibly prepare the tea without coming to him and confessing to him that she'd be mistaken, and that she had not got everything she wanted. She would be compelled to humble herself before him. Worried ever so little. He was a hard old man, and the prospect of

this humbling gave him pleasure. I regret to say, you cannot have tea without tea leaves. And James Ollerinshaw kept the tea leaves in a tea caddy locked in his front room. He had an extravagant taste in tea. He fancied China tea, and he fancied China tea that cost five shillings a pound. He was the last person to leave China tea at five shillings a pound

to the economic prudence of a missus. But every day Missus Butt brought to him the teapot warmed and a teaspoon, and he unlocked the tea caddy, dispensed the right quantity of tea, and relocked the tea caddy. There was no other tea in the house. So with a merry heart the carnous fellow shamefully delighting in the imminent downfall of a fellow creature, and that a woman went into the front room, as he had been bidden. Among the family

of chairs in a corner was a black octagonal case. He opened this case, which was not locked, and drew from it a concertina, all inlaid with mother of pearl. Then he went to the desk, and from under a pile of rent books, he extracted several pieces of music and selected one. This selected piece he reared up on the mantelpiece against two brass candlesticks. It was obvious from the certainty and ease of his movements that he had the

habit of lodging pieces of music against those two brass candlesticks. The music bore the illustrious name of George Frederick Handel. Then he put on a pair of spectacles, which were lying on the mantelpiece, and balanced them on the end of his nose. Finally, he adjusted his little hands to the straps of the concertina. You might imagine that he would instantly dissolve into melody not at all. He glanced at the page of music, first through his spectacles,

and then bending forward his head over his spectacles. Then he put down the concertina gingerly on a chair, and moved the music half an inch, perhaps five eighths to the left. He resumed the concertina, and was on the very point of song when he put down the concertina for the second time and moved the tassel of his Turkish cap from the neighborhood of his left ear for the neighborhood of his right ear. Then, with a cough, he resumed

the concertina once more and embarked upon the interpretation of Handel. It was the Hallelujah chorus. Any surprise which the musical reader may feel on hearing that James Ollanjaw was equal to performing the Hallelula chorus on a concertina, even when inlaid with mother of Pearl argues on the part of that reader, and in perfect

acquaintance with the five towns. In the five towns, there are among pianost corners two musical instruments, the concertina and the cornet, And the five towns were like to see the composer clever enough to compose a piece of music that cannot be arranged for either of these instruments. It is conceivable that Beethoven imagined, when he wrote the last movement of the C Minor Symphony, that he produced a work which it would be impossible to arrange for corn it solo.

But if he did, he imagined a vain thing. In the Five Towns, where the taste for classical music is highly developed, the Sea Minor Symphony on a single tornet is as common as Robin Adair on a full brass band. James Orangehaw played the hallelio chorus with much feeling and expression. He understood the hallelulio chorus to its profoundest depths, which was not surprising in view of the fact that he had been playing it regularly since before Helen was born.

The unfading charm of classical music is that you never tire of it. Nevertheless, the grandeur of his interpretation of the hallelulio chorus appeared to produce no effect whatever in the scullery, neither alarm nor ecstasy, And presently, in the midst of a brief pianissimo passage, James's sensitivia caught the distant sound of chopping, which quite marred the soft tenderness of which he been naming. He stopped abruptly. The sound of chopping intrigued his curiosity. What could she be chopping?

He advanced cautiously to the doorway. He left the door open. The other door between the kitchen and the scullery, which had previously been closed, was now open, so that he could see from the front room into the scullery. His eager, inquisitive glance noted a plate of beautiful bread and butter on the tea table in the kitchen. She was chopping the kidney. Utterly absorbed in her task, she had no suspicion that she was being overlooked.

After the chopping of the kidney, James witnessed a series of operations, the key to whose significance he could not find. She put a flat pan over the gas and then took it off again. Then she picked up an egg, broke it into a coffee cup, and instantly poured it out of the coffee cup into a basin. She did the same to another egg, and yet another four eggs in tar household stock of eggs, It was terrible. Four eggs and a kidney among two people, he could not divine what she

was at. Then she got some butter on the end of a knife and dropped it into the saucepan, and put the saucepan over the gas and then poured the plateful of kidney shreds into the saucepan. Then she began furiously to beat the four eggs with a fork, glancing into the sauceman frequently and coaxing it with little touches. Then the kidney shreds raised a sound of frizzling,

and bang into the sauceman went the contents of the basin. All the time she had held her hands and her implements and utensils away from her as much as possible, doubtless out of consideration for her frock. Not an inch of apron was she wearing. Now she leant over the gas stove, fork in hand, and made baffling motions inside the sorcersman with the fork, And while doing so she stretched forth her left hand obtained some salt and sprinkled the saucepan

therewith. The business seemed to be exquisitely delicate and breathless. Her face was sternly set as though the fate of contenance depended on her nerve and audacity in this tremendous crisis. But what she was doing to the interior of the saucepan, James Ronshaw could not comprehend. She stroked it with a long gesture. She tickled it, she stroked it in a different direction, she lifted it and folded it on itself. Anyhow, he knew it was not scrambled eggs,

because you have to stir scrambled eggs without ceasing. Then she stopped and stood quite still regarding the saucepan. You marched me quite long enough, she said, without moving her head. She must have known all the time that he was there. So he shuffled away and glanced out of the window at the stir and traffic of Trafalgar Road. Teas ready, she said. He

went into the kitchen, smiling, enchanted but disturbed. She had not come to him, and confessed that she could not make tea without tea leaves. Yet there was the teapot steaming and puffing on the table. End of chapter seven, Chapter eight of Helen with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Simon Evers. Chapter eight,

omelet the mystery lay on a plate in the middle of the table. In color, it resembled scrambled eggs, except that it was tinted a more brownish or coppery gold, rather like a first glass Yorkshire pudding. He suspected for an instant that it might be a Yorkshire pudding according to the new fangled recipe of board schools. But four eggs. No, He was sure that so

small a quantity of Yorkshire pudding could not possibly have required four eggs. He picked up the tea potter after his manner, and was in the act of pouring when she struck him into immobility with a loud cry milk first. He understood that she had a caprice for pouring the tea on the top of the milk, instead of the milk on the top of the tea. What difference

does it make? Demanded defiantly. What she cried again? You think it's of a great authority on China tea, and you don't know that milk ought to be poured in first? Why it makes quite a different taste. How in the name of Confucius did she know that he thought himself a great authority on china tea. Here she said, if you don't mind, I'll pour out the tea. Thank you help yourself to this. She pointed to the mystery. It must be eaten, but it's hot, or it's worse than

useless. What is it, he asked, with false calm. It's a kidney omelet, she replied. Omelet, he repeated, rather at a loss. It never tasted an omelet, He never seen an omelet. Omelets formed no part of the domestic cuisine of England. Omelet, he repeated. How was he familiar with the word, the words which conveyed nothing to his mind? Then he remembered, he can't make an omelet without breaking eggs. Of course, she had broken eggs. She broken four eggs. She broken the

entire household stock of eggs. And he had employed that proverb scores hundreds of times. It was one of half a dozen favorite proverbs which he flung the less sagacious and prudent of his tenants. And yet it had never occurred to him to wonder what an omelet was. Now he knew, at any rate, he knew what it looked like, And he was shortly to know what it tasted like. Yes, she said, cut it with a knife. Don't be frightened of it. You'll eat it. It won't eat you.

And please give me very little. I had a quarter of a pound of chocolates after dinner. He conveyed one third of the convection to his plate and about a sixth to hers, And he tasted just a morsel with a dash of kidney in the center of it, on the end of his fork. He was not aware of the fact, but that was the decisive moment of his life, sixty though he was had she really made this marvel, this dream, this idle, this indescribable bliss, out of four common fresh eggs

and a veal kidney that missus Butter dropped on the floor. He had come to loathe kidney, had almost come to swearing that no manifestation or incarnation of kidney should ever again pass between his excellent teeth. And now he was ravished, wrapped away on the wings of paradissical ecstasy, by something that consisted of kidney and a few eggs. This omelet had all the finer and nobler qualities of Yorkshire pudding and scrambled eggs, combined together with others beyond the ken of

his greedy fancy. Yes, he was a greedy man. He knew he was greedy. He was a greedy man whose evil passion had providentially been kept in check for over a quarter of a century by the gross unskillfulness, the appalling monotony of a missus butt. Could it be that there existed women, light and light handed creatures, creatures of originality and resource, who were capable

of producing prodigies like this kidney omit on the spur of the moment? Evidently Helen existed, and the whole omlet, from the melting of the butter to the final steadied lance into the saucepan had not occupied her more them six minutes at most. She had tossed it off, as he might have tossed off a receipt for a week's rent. And the exquisite thought in his mind, the thought of penetrating sweetness, was that whence this delicacy had come, other

and even rare delicacies might have come. All His past life seemed to him to be a miserable waste of gloomy and joyless years. Did I kid she inquired, He paused, as though reflecting whether he liked it or not. Ay, he said, judiciously, it's not so bad. I could do a bit more of that. Well, she urged him to help yourself take it all. I sha'n't eat any more. Sure, he said, trembling lest she might change her mind. Then he yet the remaining half of the

omelet, making five sixths in all. He glanced at her surreptitiously, in her fine dress, on which was not a single splash or stain. He might have known that so extraordinary and exotic a female person would not concoct anything so trite as you to pudding or scrambled eggs. Not till the omet was an affair of the past, so far as his plate was concerned, did he begin to attend to his tea, His tea which sustained a mystery as

curious airs and iscidedly more sinister than the mystery of the omelet. He stared into the cup, then, to use the five times phrase, he supped it up. There could be no doubt it was his special China tea. It had a peculiar flavor, owing perhaps to the presidents given to milk, but it was incontestably his guarded, unlocked tea. Had she got it?

Well, it's fine this tea, LUs he asked in the little corner cupboard and the scullery, she said, I'd no idea that people drank such good China tea imbersely, Ah, he observed, concealing his concern under a mask of irony. China tyms drunk hiversly afore your time mother would only drink celoron, said she. Ah, that doesn't surprise me, said he, as if to imply that no vagary on the part of Susan could surprise him, and he proceeded reflectively in the corner Goudbard says thou yes in a loud tin

box, a large tin box. This news was overwhelming. He rose abruptly and went into the scullery indubably. There was a large tin box pretty nearly half a full of his guarded tea in the corner cupboard. He returned the illusion of half a lifetime shattered lo There woman was a thief. He announced, what woman, missus butt and expled to helen all his elaborate precautions for the preservation of his China tea. Hennie was wholly sympathetic the utter correctness of

her attitude towards missus bt was balm to him. Only one theory was conceivable. The wretched woman must have had a key to his caddy during his absence from the house. She must have calmly helped herself to tea at five shillings a pound a spoonful of so at a time. Doubtless she made tea her private consumption, exactly when she chose. It was even possible that she walked off from time to time with counstiitesce of tea to her own home. And

he who thought himself so clever, so much cleverer than a servant. You can't have her back, as she hasn't honest, even if she comes back, said Helen. Oh I won't come back, said James. Factors have had difficulties with her for a long time. Now, then what shall you do me, poor dear uncle, Nay, says he, I must ask you that it was yours was the cause of her going. Oh, uncle,

she exclaimed, laughing, how can you see such a thing? And she added seriously it can't be expected to cook for yourself, can y? And that's forgetting a new one? He noticed with satisfaction, since you've taken to calling him simply uncle instead of great step uncle. A new un he muttered grimly and sighed in despair. I just stay and look after your supper. She said, brightly. Here's him. More about tomorrow Morrow, He grewed gloomier to morrow, Sunday. I'll come to morrow for breakfast. Yes,

some one about Monday. His gloom was not easily to be dispersed. I'll come on Monday, she replied, with increasing cheerfulness. By your school, will you teach everything? Lass? Of course I shall give up school, said she at once. They must do without me. It will mean promotion for some one. I can't bother about giving proper notice. Supposing you'd been dangerously ill, I should have come, and they would have managed without

me. Therefore they can manage without me. Therefore they must. He kept up a magnificent gloom until she left for the night, and then he danced a hornpipe of tlea, not with his legs, but in his heart. He had deliberately schemed to get rid of missus Butt by means of Helen Rathbone. The idea had occurred to him as he entered the house that was why he had encouraged her to talk freely about servants by assuring her that missus Butt

was not in the scullery. Being well aware that Missus Butt was in the scullery, he made a tool of the unsuspecting, good natured Helen, smart though she was. He had transitory calms of fear about the possible expensiveness of Healen. He decidedly not meant that she should give up school and nearly thirty shillings a week. But still he managed her so far, and he reckoned

that he could continue to manage her. He regretted that she had not praised his music, and Hedin wrote the same evening to her mother from a very long and very exciting letter. The following excerpts may be called. I saw the fat old servant in the scurry at once, but Uncle thought she wasn't there. He's a funny old man, rather silly like most old men. But I like him, and he can say what you please. Isn't silly really? I incidently decided that I would get rid of that servant, and

I didn't do. Poor Uncle never suspected in a few days I shall come to live here. It's much safer. Suppose he he was taken ill and died and left all his money to hospitals and things awfully stupid that would be. I told him I should leave the school, and he didn't turn a hair. He's a dear I don't care a fig for his money, except to spend it for him. His tiny house is simply lovely, terrifically clean, and in the loveliest order. But I've no intention that we shall stay

here. I think I should take a large house up at Helport. Uncle is only old in some ways. In many ways he's quite young, so I hope he won't mind a change. By the way he told me about your age, My dearest mother, how could you, et cetera. In such manner came Helen Rathbone to keep house for her great step uncle, end of chapter eight, Chapter nine of Helen with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Simon Others. Chapter

nine. A great change and a Rothbourne, said Uncle James one Tuesday afternoon. Have you been meddling in my cash box? They were sitting in the front room, Helen in a light gray costume that cascaded over her chair and half the next chair, and James Olleranshaw in the days I be of his Turkish cap. James was at his desk. It is customary in the Five Towns when you feel competative, astonished, or ironic towards another person, to

address that other person by his full name. You left the key in your cash box this morning, uncle, said Helen, glancing up from a book, while you were fiddling me the safe in your bedroom. He did not like the word fiddling. He did not suit either his dignity or the dignity of his hued Milner safe. Well, he said, And if I did, wasn't upstairs more than five minutes the new servant aDNA come. There was

but you and me and the house. Yes, but you see, I was in a hurry to go out marketing, and I couldn't wait for you to come down. Ignored this remark. Other a ten pound nor missing said he don't play them tricks on me. Lass, I'm getting an Oldish man. Why hast thou hidden it? I'm'll go to the bank, he spoke plaintively. My dear uncle, she replied, I've not hidden yet. Tempar note, I wanted some money in a hurry, so took it. I've spent some of it, spent some of it, he exclaimed. I'll much

as spent. Oh, I don't know, but I make up my accounts every night, Alas said he staring firmly out of the window. This won't do. I let you know at once, this wonna do. He was determined to be master in his own house. She also was determined to be master in his own house. Conflict was imminent. I ask what you mean, uncle, he hesitated. He was not afraid of her, but he was afraid of her dress. Not of the material, but of the cut

of it. If she've been Susan in Susan's dowdy and wrinkled Alpacker, he would have translated his just emotion into what critics called simple nervous English, that is to say, Shakespearean prose. But the aristocratic, insolent perfection of Helen's gown gave him pause. Why didn't you tell me, he demanded, I merely didn't think of it, she said. I've been very busy. If you wanted money, why didn't you ask me for it? He demanded.

I've been here over a week, said she, and he give me a pound and a post lord of at ten shinnings, which I had to ask for. Surely you must have guessed, uncle, that even I had put the thirty shillings in the savings bank, we couldn't live on the interest of it, and that I was bound to want more. Something like seventy meals had been served in this house since I entered it. I gave missus butt a pound a week, he observed. But think what a good manager missus?

But was, she said, with the sweetness of a saint. He was accustomed to distributing satire, but not to receiving it. And receiving this snowball full in the mouth, he didn't quite know what to do with it, whether to pretend that he had received nothing, or to call a policeman. He ended by spluttering, It's easy enough to ask for money when you want it, he said, I ain't asking for money, she said, all women do. And I'm out to be inquiring every morning whether you want

money, he questioned sarcastically. Certainly, uncle, she answered, how else are you to know? Difficult to credit that that girl had been an angel of light all the week, resisting in a paradise which she created for herself and for him, and now to defend an action utterly indefensible, she was employing a tone that might be compared to some fiendish instrumental device of a dentist. But James Olronshaw did not wish his teeth stopped, nor yet extracted.

He had excellent teeth, and in common with all men who have never taken thirty consecutive repasts alone with the same woman, he knew how to treat women, how to handle them. The trout he stood up, he raised all his body. Helen raised only her eyebrows. Ellen Rothbourne. Such was the exordium. As an exordium. It was faultless, but it was destined to

remain a fragment. He goes down in history as a perfect fragment, like the beginning of a pagan temple for the death of gods has rendered superfluous. For a dog cart stopped in front of the house at that precise second, deposited a lady a commanding mien, and dashed off again. The lady opened James's gate and knocked at James's front door. She could not be a relative of a tenant. James was closely acquainted with all his tenants, and he

had none of that caliber. Wherever Helen had caused a small board to be fixed to the gate. Tenants, will please go round to the back, bless us, he murmured angrily, and by force of habit he went and opened the door. Then he recognized the lady. It was Sarah Swetnam, eldest child of the large and tumultuously intellectual Sweatnam family that lived in a largish house in a large's way higher up the road, and to whose financial stability

rumor always had something interesting to say, is miss Rothbourne here? For he could reply, there was an ecstatic cry behind him, Sallie, and another in front of him Nil. In the very nick of time, he slipped aside, and thus avoided the inconvenience of being crushed to pulp between two locomotivesuder full steam. It appeared that they had not met for some years, Sallie having been in London. The reunion was an affecting sight, and such a

sight as had never before been witnessed in James's house. The little room seemed to be full of fashionable women, to be all gloves, frills, hat, parasol, veil and whirling flowers also sent They kissed through Stallie's veil first, and then she lifted the veil and four vermillion lips clung together. Sallie was even taller than Helen, with a solid waist, and older, more

brazen. They both sat down. Fashionable women have a manner of sitting down quite different from that of ordinary women, such as the wives of James's tenants. They only touched the back of the chair at the top. They don't loll, but they only escape lodding by dint of gracefulness. It is an affair of curves, plants, descents, nicely calculated. They elaborately lead your eye downwards over gradually increasing expenses, and naturally you expect to see their feet,

and you don't see their feet. The thing is apt to be disturbing to unhabituated beholders. Then, fashionable women always begin their conversations right off. There are no modest or shy or decently awkward silences at the start. They slip into a conversation as a duck into water. In three minutes, Helen had told Sarah Swetnam everything about her leaving the school and about her establishment with her great step uncle and Sarah seemed delighted and tapped the tiles of the floor

with the tip of her sunshade and gaze splendidly over the room. And there are your books there, I see, she said in her positive, calm voice, pointing to a few hundred books that were stacked in a corner. How lovely you remember you promised to lend me that book of Thora's what did you call it? And you never did. Next time you come, I'll find it for you, said Helen. Next time she came, this kind

of visit would occur frequently. Then they were talking just as if James Orangshaw had been in Timbuctoo instead of by the mantelpiece, when Sallie suddenly turned on him. It must be very nice for you to have ne l like this, she addressed him with a glowing smile. They'd never been introduced, and we could go there past each other in Saint Luke's Square without a sign of the Sweapron family. James knew the father alone and him slightly. What chiefly

impressed him in Sarah was her nerve. He said nothing. He was tongue tied. It's a great change for you, proceeded Sarah, I agree. It is that end of chapter nine, chapter ten of Helen with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by

Simon Ofvers, chapter ten A call. The next moment, the two fluffy women had decided, without in the least consulting James, that they would extend to Helen's bedroom to look at a hat, which James was surprised to learn Helen had seen in Brunt's window that morning and had bought on the spot. No wonder she had been in a hurry to go marketing, No wonder she spent some of his ten pound note. He'd seen hats in Brunce marked as high as two guineas, but did not dreamt that such hats would ever enter

his house. While he had been laboring, collecting his rents, and arranging for repairs throughout the length and the breadth of Bursley and Turnhill, she, under pretense of marketing, had been flinging away ten pound notes at Brunt's. The whole business was fantastic, simply and madly fantastic, so fantastic that he had not yet quite grasp the reality of it. The whole business was unheard of. He saw with all the clearness of his masculine intellect that it must

cease. The force with which he decided within himself that it must cease, and instanter bordered upon the hysterical. As he had said plaintively, he was an oldish man. His habits, his manners, and his notions, especially his notions about money, were fixed and set like plaster of Paris in a mold. Helen's conduct was nothing less than dangerous. It might bring him to a sudden death from heart's disease. Happily, he'd had a very good week.

Indeed, with his rents. He trotted about all day on Mondays and on Tuesday mornings gathering his rents. And on Tuesday afternoons he usually experienced the assuaged content of an alligator after the weekly meal. Otherwise, there was no knowing what might not have been the disastrous consequences of Headi's bare face robbery, and of an unscrupulous, unrepentant defense of that robbery. For days and days he had imagined himself in heaven with a seraph who was also a good cook.

He had forty times congratulated himself on catching Helene. And now, but it must stop. Then he thought of the cooking. His mouth remembered its first taste of the incomparable kidney omelet. What an ecstasy, still a ten pound note for even a kidney omelet. Jarred on the fineness of his sense of values. A feminine laugh, Helen's came down the narrow stairs and through the kitchen. No, the whole house was altered with well bred, distinguished

women's laughter floating about the stairs. Like that, he called upon his lifelong friend and comforter, the concertina. The senseless thing of rosewood, ivory, ebony, mother of pearl and leather, was to him what a brother, a pipe, a bull terrier, a trusted confidant might have been to another James. And now, in the accents of the Hallelujah chorus, it yielded to his squeezings the secret and sublime solace which men term poetry. Then there

was a second and equally imperious knock at the door. He loosed his fingers from his friend and opened the door. Mister Emmanuel Proctor stood on the door step. Mister m Emmanuel Proctor wore a beautiful blue suit with a white waistcoat and pale gold tie, yellow gloves, boots with pointed toes, a lossy birl, a hat, a cane, and an eye glass. He was an impeccable young man and the avowed delight of his tailor, whose bills were

paid by missus Proctor. Is Miss Rathbourne at home, asked Emmanuel after a cough. Helin e e eth ay, said James grimly ears quite at home? Can I see you? James opened more widely the door up a new better step inside, said he thanks, mister Rainshaw, what a fine weather we're having. James ignored this quite courteous and truthful remark. He shut the door, went into the kitchen and called up the stairs Helen, a young

man to see ye. In the bedroom, Helen and Sarah Swetnam had exhausted to the brunt hat and were spaciously at sea in an enchanted ocean of miscellaneous gossip, such as is only possible between two highly educated women who scorned tittle tattle. Helen had the back bedroom part because the front bedroom was her uncle's, but partly also because the back bedroom was just as large, as a much quieter than the other, and because she preferred it. There had been

no difficulty about furniture. Even so good a landlord as James Olronshaw, is obliged now and then to go to extremes in the pursuit of arrears of frend and the upper part of the house was crowded with choice specimens of furniture which had once belonged to the more magnificent of his defaulting tenants. Helen's bedroom was not finished, nor since she regarded it as a temporary lodging rather than permanent

habitation, was she in her mind to finish it. Still, with her frocks dotted about, the hat on the four post bed, and her silver mounted brushes and mannich or tools on the dressing table, it had a certain stylishness. Sarah shared the bed with the hat. Helen knelted a trunk. What have I made you think of coming to Barsley? Sarah questioned, don't you think it's better than Longshore? Said Helen, Yes, my darling child, but that's not why you came. If ye ask me, I believe

it was your deliberate intention to capture your great uncle. Anyhow, I congratulate you on your success, Ah, Helen murmured, smiling to herself. I'm not out of the wood yet. What do you mean, Well, you see, uncle and I haven't quite decided whether he is to have his way or I am to have mine. We were both thinking about it when you happen to call, And then as there was a little pause, are people

talking about us much? She did not care whether people were talking much or little, but she hadn't obscure desire to shift ever so slightly in the direction of the conversation. I've only been here a day or two, so I can scarcely judge, said Sarah. But Lilian came in from the art school this morning with an armful of chatter. Let me see, I forget, Helen said, is Lilian the youngest or the next of the youngest? My dearest child, Lilian is the youngest, but one, of course, which

he's grown up now naturally. What when I saw her last that day, when she was with you at knype, she had a ribbon in her hair and she looked ten. She's eighteen. And haven't you heard heard? What do you mean to say? You've been in Bursley a week or more and haven't heard? Surely you know Andrew Dean I know Andrew Dean, said Helen, and she said nothing else. When did you last see him? Oh about a fortnight ago. It's before that. He didn't tell you why.

It's just like him, that is, that's Andrew all over? What is He's engaged to Lilian. It's the first engagement of the family, and she's the yungist but one. Henn shut the trunk with a snap, then opened it and shut it again, and then she rose, smoothing her hair. I scarcely know Lillian, she said coldly. And I don't know your mother at all, but I must call and congratulate the child. No, Auntrew Deane didn't breathe a word. I may tell you as a dreadful secret nell

that be aunt any of us in the seventh Heaven about it? Aunt Annie said yesterday, I don't know that. I'm so set up with it as all that, Jane meaning mother beyond so set up with it as all that? Why not? Oh we aren't. I don't know why I pretend to be lest Lilydian should imagine I'm jealous. It was at this point that the voice of James Ollernshaw announced a young man the remainder of that afternoon was like

a bewildering dream. To James Ollerenshaw. His front room seemed to be crowded with a multitude of peacocks that would be more at home under the sun of Missus Proctor's lawns up at Hillport. Yet there were only three persons present besides himself, but decidedly they were not his world. There over the world that referred to him as old Jimmy Ollerenshaw, or briefly as Jimmy, and he had to sit and listen to them, and even to answer coherently when spoken

to. Emmanuel Proctor was brilliant. He put his hat on one chair and his cane across another, and he conversed with ducal facility. The two things about him that puzzled the master of the house were first why he was not at such an hour engaged in at any rate the pretense of earning his living, and second, why he did not take his gloves off. No notion of work seemed to exist in the minds of the three. They chatted of

tennis, novels, music, and particularly of amateur operatic societies. James acquired the information that Emmaniel was famous as a singer of songs. The topic led them naturally to James Concertine. The talk likely caressed James Concertina, and then Emmanuel swept it off to the afternoon tea room of the New Midland Grand Hotel at Manchester, where Emmanuel had lately been, and that led to the old Oak Tree tea House in Bond Street, where, not to be beaten by

a manual, Sarah Swetnam had lately been. Suppose we have tea, said Helen, and she picked up a little brass bell which stood on the central table, and tinkled it. James had not noticed the bell. It was one of the many little changes that Helen had introduced. Each change by itself was a nothing. What is one small bell in a house? It? In the mass, they amounted to much. The bell was obviously new. She must have bought it, but she not mentioned it to him, And

how could they all set at the tiny table in the kitchen. Moreover, he had no fancy for entertaining the whole town of Bursley to meals. However, immediate prospect of tea produced in James a feeding of satisfaction, even though he remained in perfect ignorance of the methods by which Helen meant to achieve the tea. She had rung the bell and gone on talking as if the tea would cook itself and walk in on its hind legs, and asked to be

eaten. Then the news the servant entered with a large tray. James had never seen such a servant, as servants so entirely new. She was wearing a black frock, and various parts of the frock and the top of her head were covered with stiffly starched white linen or was it cotton. Her apron, which had two pockets, was more elaborate than an antimacassa. Helen coolly instructed her to place the tray on his desk, which she did, brushing

irreverently. Aside a number of rent books on the tray, there was nothing will of her to eat but a dozen slices of the thinnest conceivable bread and butter. Helen rose. Emmanuel also rose. Helen poured out the tea a man who took a cup of saucer in one hand and the plate of bread and butter in the other, and ceremoniously approached Sarah Sweatnam. Sarah accepted the cup and saucer. Dedically chose a piece of bread and butter and lodged it

on her saucer and went on talking. Emmanuel returned to the table and Reladen approached Old Jimmy, and Old Jimmy had to lodge a piece of bread and butter on his sorcer. Then Emmanuel removed his gloves and in a moment they were all drinking tea and nibbling bread and butter. What a fall was this? From kidney? Omelets and four had struck? Did Helen expect her uncle to make his tea off a slice of bread and butter that weighed about two

dragmas? When the alleged tea was over, James got on his feet and slidently slid into the kitchen. The fact was that Emmanuel Proctor and the mannequin airs of Emmanuel Broctor made him positively sick. He'd not been in the kitchen more than a minute before he was aware of amazing matters in the conversation. Yes, said Helen, it's small, but my child have always been used to a small house. Surely I think it's just as quaint and pretty as

a little museum. Would you like to live in a little museum. A laugh from Emmanuel and the voice of Helen proceeding, I've always lived in a small house, just as I've taught six hours a day in school, but not because I wanted to. I like rooum. I daresay that uncle and I might find another house one of these days. But Hillport, I hope amnho put in. James could see his mincing, imbecile smile through the kitchen wall. Who knows, said Helen. James returned to the front room.

What's that you're saying, he questioned the company. I was just saying, how quaint and pretty your house is, said Sarah, and she rose to depart. More kissings, flutterings, swishings. Emmanuel bowed a man who followed Miss weptman. In a few minutes, Helen accompanied him to the gate. When she stayed a little while talking to him, James was in the blackest gloom. And now you, dear old thing, said Helen, vivaciously, busting into the house. You shall have your tea. You've beave like a

perfect angel. And he kissed him on the cheek, very excitedly, as he thought. She gave him another kidney omelet for his tea. It was even more adorable than the former one. With a taste of it in his mouth, he could not recur to the question of the ten pound note all at once. When tea was over, she retired upstairs and remained in retirement for ages. She descended at a quarter to eight with her hat and gloves

on. It appeared to him that her eyes were inflamed. I am going out, she said, with no further explanation, and out she went, leaving the old man stricken daft by too many sensations to collect his wits. He had not even been to the bank, and the greatest sensation of all the nightmarish days was still in reserve for him. At a quarter past eight, some one knocked at the door. He ened it, being handier than the new servant. He imagined himself ready for anything, But he was not

ready for the apparition which met him on the threshold. Missus Proctor of Hillport asked to be admitted. End of chapter ten, Chapter eleven of Helen with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Simon Evers, Chapter eleven. Another call Missus Proctor was compelled to ask for admission because James, struck moveless and speechless by the extraordinary sight of her, offered no invitation to enter. He merely stood in front of

the half open door. May I come in, mister dollran Shaw, she said, very obainly, I hope you will excuse this very informal call. I've altered my dinner hout in order to pay it. And she smiled, a smile seemed to rouse him from a spell. Oh, come in, missus do, he conjured warmly. He was James, He was even Jimmy. But he was also a man, very much a man, though the

fact had only recently begun to impress itself on him. Missus Proctor, while a dowager, portly, possibly fussy, perhaps slightly comic to a younger generation, was still considerably younger than James. With her rich figure, her excellent complexion, her carefully cherished hair, and her apparel, she was a woman to captivate a man of sixty whose practical experience of the sex extended over nine

days. Thank you, said she gratefully. He shut the front door as if he were shutting a bird in a cage, and also shut the door leading to the kitchen, a door which had not been shut since the kitchen far smoked in the celebrated winter of eighteen ninety seven. She sat down at once in the easy chair. Ah, she exclaimed in relief. And then she began to fan herself with a fan which was fastened to her person by

a chain that might of Maud a steamer. James, searching about for something else to do while he was collecting his forces, drew the blind and lighted the gas, but it was not yet dark. I wonder what you will think of me calling like this, she said, with a sardonic smile. It was apparent that whatever he thought of her, she would not be disturbed or abashed. She was utterly at her ease. She could not, indeed have recalled the moment when she had not been at her ease. She sat

in the front room with all the external symptoms of being at home. This was what chiefly surprised James olrang sjoy in his grand guests. They all took his front room for granted. They betrayed no emotion at its smallness, or its plainness, or its eccentricities. He would somehow have expected them to signify overtly or covetly that that kind of room was not the kind of room to

which they were accustomed. Anyhow, I'm glad to see miss it. Doctor James returned a speech which did not in the least startle Missus Proctor, who was thoroughly used to people being glad to see her. But it startled James. He uttered it instinctively. It was the expression of an instinctive gladness which took hold of him and employed his tongue on its own account, and which rose superior even to his extreme astonishment at the visit. He was glad to

sit he here. She was stout, a magnificent in her silk and her ribbons. He thought that he preferred stout women to thin, and that, without being aware of it, he had always preferred stout women to thin. It was a question of taste. He certainly preferred Missus Proctor Sarahswetnam. Missus Proctor's smile was the smile of a benevolently cynical creature whose studies in human nature had reached the advanced stage. James was reassured by this, for it avoided

the necessity for nonsense. Yes, she was decidedly better under a roof and a gas jet than in the street. May I ask if your niece is in, she said, in a low voice, she isn't. He been sure that she called about heaven if not to see headn But there was a conspiratorial accent in her question for which he was unprepared, so he sat down at last. Well, said Missus Proctor. I'm not sorry if she isn't, But if she had been, I should have spoken just the same.

Not to her, but to you now, miss Orrorinshaw, I think you and I are rather alike in some things. I hate beating about the bush, and I imagine that you do. He was flattered, and he was perfectly eased by her tone. She was a woman to whom you could talk sense, and he perceived that though a casual observer might fail to find the points of resemblance between them, they were rather alike, I expect, said he. It's pretty well known in this time as I'm not one that beats

about the bush, good, said she. You know my step son Emmanuel, he is here a bit sins James replied, what do you think of him? Oh? As a man? Well, missus hasbth not beating about the bush. I think he's a fool. Now that's what I like, she exclaimed, quite ravished. He is a fool, mister Oloronshaw. Between ourselves, I can see that you and I will get on together splendidly. Immanion is a fool. I can't help it. I took him along with my second husband, and I do my best for him, but I'm not

responsible for his character. As far as that goes, he isn't responsible for it either. Not only easy a fool, but he is a conceited fool and an idle fool, and he can't see a joke. At the same time, he is quite honest, and I think he's a gentleman. But being a gentleman is no excuse for being a fool. Indeed, I think it makes it worse. Nothing can make it worse, James put in. She drew down the corners of her lips and stroked her fine gray hair.

You say Manuel has been here to day, ay, said James. He came in and had a super tea. Do you know why he came? Maybe he felt faintlike and slipped in here as there's no public nearer than the Queen Adelaide. Oh maybe he thought as I was getting on in years, and he wanted for to make my acquaintance fore I died, but didn't ask him. I see you understand, said missus Proctor. Mister Ollerinshaw, my step son is courting your niece, a great step niece. James corrected and

added, is he now to tell you the truth? I didn't know till the other day as they were acquainted. They haven't been acquainted long. Missus Potter informed him. You may ever that Amanda is thinking go into partnership with mister Andrew Dean, and you'd layze that mister Dean has invented. The matter may turn out well, because all that mister Dean really wants is a sleeping partner with money. Amanda has the money. I think he can be guaranteed

to sleep. Your step niece met Emanuel by accident through mister Dean some weeks ago over at Longshore. They must have talked to each other at once, And I must tell you not Mary is my stepson courting your niece. But your niece is courting my step son. You surprise me, Missus, I dare say I do, But it is the fact, she isn't a churchwoman. At least, she wasn't a churchwoman at Longshore. She was congregational,

or not very much at that. You aren't a churchman either, But your niece now goes to Saint Luke's every Sunday, so does my steps Your niece is out to night, so is my step son. And if they are not together somewhere, I shall be very much astonished. Of course, the new generation does as it likes. And what next, James inquired. I'll tell you what next, cried the mature lady with the most charming vivacity. I like your niece. I've met her twice at the Saint Luke's Guild,

and I like her. I should have asked her to come and see me. Only I'm determined not to encourage her with Immanuel, mister Landshaw, I'm not going to have her marrying Immanuel, and that's why I've come to see you. The horror of his complicated situation displayed itself suddenly to James. He who had always led a calm, unworried life, was about to be shoved into the very midst of a hollow balloo of women and fools. His wisened body shrank, and he was not sure that his pride was quite unhurt.

Missus Proctor noticed this, Oh, she resumed with undiminished vivacity. It's not because I think your niece isn't good enough for him, Emanuel. It's because I think she's a great deal too good. Yet it isn't that either. The truth is, mister Lowranshaw, I'm a purely selfish woman. I'm the last person in the world to stand in the way of me poor stepson getting a better wife than he deserves. And if the woman chooses to throw herself away on him, that's not my affair. What I said danger in is

that your step Deece would find my steps one out. At present, she's smitten by his fancy waistcoat, but she would soon seen through the fancy waistcoot and then there would be a scandal. If I have not misjudged your step niece, there would be a scandal. And I do not think that I have misjudged her. She's exactly the sort of young woman who, when she

discovered she made a mistake, would walk straight out of the house. She is James agreed with simple heartedness of conviction, and Emmanuel, having no sense of humor, would leave nothing undone to force her back again. Imagine the scandal, mister Lawlinshaw. Imagine my physician, Imagine yours me in an affair like that. I won't have it. Letter to say, I won't have

it if I can stop it? Now, what can we do? Despite the horror of the situation, he had sufficient loose, unemployed sentiment left over from pitying himself to be rather pleased by her manner of putting it. What can we do? But he kept this pleasure to himself. Knout, he said dryly. He spoke to her as one sensible person speaks to another sensible person in the five Times. Assuredly she was a very sensible person. He had him past years credited or discredited her with airs, but here she was

declaring that Helen was too good for her stepson. If his pride had momentarily suffered through a misconception, it was now in the full vigor of its strength. You think we can do nothing, she said reflectively, and ent forward on her chair towards him, and is struck by his erec wisdom. What Carloss do you might praise a man in it to her urge your own. She fixed him with her eye. Sensible, she was prodigious. She was

the serpent of serpents. He took her gaze twinkling ay, He said, am I, if I'm to urge her on, why didn't you ask her to your house like and and chook him at each other. She nodded several times, Impressed by this argument. You quite right, mister orroon Shaw, she admitted. It's a dangerous game, he warned her. She put her lips together in meditation and stared into a corner. I must think it over,

she emerged from her reflections. I feel much easier now I've told you all about it, and I feel sure that two common sense, middle aged people like you and me come manage to do what we want. Dear me, how annoying stepsons are? Obviously a manul ought to marry another fool, and goodness knows there are plenty to choose from. Amost needs go and fall in love with almost the only sensible girl in the town. There's no end

of that boy's foolishness. He actually wants me to buy Wilbraham all furniture and everything. What do you think it's worth, mister Olinshaw. Worth, it's worth what it'll fetch eight thousand land's worth. That, said James. What a silly idea, but he put it into my head. Now will you drop him one day and see me? No, said James, I'm not much for tea parties, thank'ee. I mean when i'm alone, she pleaded, delightfully, so that we can talk over things and you can tell me

what is going on. He saw clearly all the perils of such a course, but his instincts seized him again. Up, and I may look in some morning when i'm round yonder. That would be very nice of you. She flat at him, and rose. Helen came home about ten o'clock and went direct to bed. Never before her James Ollronshaw felt like a criminal, But it's Helen's eyes dwelt for a moment on his In bidding him good night, he could scarcely restrain the blush of the evil doer, and him sixty

term which where he would he saw nothing but worry. What an incredible day he had lived through, and how astounding was human existence? End of chapter eleven. Chapter twelve of Helen with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Simon Evers, Chapter twelve, Breakfast. He had an unsatisfactory night, that is to say, in the matter of sleep. In respect of sagacity, he rose richer than he

had lain down. He had clearly perceived about three a m. That he was moving too much in circles which were foreign to him and which called him Jimmy. And at five a m. When the first workman's car woke bumpily the echoes of the morn, he perceived that miss His Proctor's plan for separating Emmanuel and Helen by bringing them together was not a wise plan. Of course, Helen must not marry Emmanuel Proctor. The notion of such a union was

ludicrous. In spite of all the worries she was heaping upon him, he did not see any urgent reason why she should marry anybody. But the proper method of nipping the orange blossom in the bud was certainly to have a plain chat with Helen, one of those plain chats which can only occur successfully between plain, common sense persons. He was convinced that, notwithstanding Missus Procter's fears,

Helen had not for an instant thought of Emmanuel as a husband. It was inconceivable that she, a girl so utterly sensible, should have done so. And yet girls and missus Procter was no fool, come to think of it, a sterling creature not of his world. But nevertheless, at this point he uneasily dozed. However, he determined to talk with Helen that morning at breakfast. He descended at half past seven, as usual, full of a diplomatic intention to talk to Helen. She was wholly sensible. She was

a person to whom you could talk. Still, tact would be needed. Lack of sleep had rendered his nervous system such that he would have preferred to receive tact rather than to give it. But happily he was a self controlled man. His post, which lay scattered on the tiles at the foot of the front door, did not interest him. He put it aside in its basket. Nor could he work according to his custom at his accounts. Even the sight of the unfilled in credit slips for the bank did not spur him

to industry. There could be no doubt that he was upset. He walked across the room to the piles of Helen's books against the wall, and in sheer absence of mind, picked one up and sat on a chair on which he never before sat, and began to read the volume. Then the hurried, pretentious striking of the kitchen clock startled him. Half an hour had passed. Any moment he peeped into the kitchen, not a sign of breakfast,

not a sign of a new servant with her starched frills. And for thirty years he breakfasted at eight o'clock precisely, And no Helen was Helen laughing at him, was had him treating him as an individual of no importance. It was unimaginable that his breakfast should be late if anybody thought that he was going to No, he must not give way to righteous resentment, dipremacy, tact forbearance. But he would just go up to Helen's room and rap and tell

her of the amazing and awful state of things on the ground floor. As a fact, she herself was late at that moment. She appeared good morning, uncle. She was cold, prim cut off like china from human intercourse by a wall. The servant does not come, said he, straining to be torrant and amicable. It is his best to keep aggrieved, astonishment, doubt of his voice. But he could not. Oh, she murmured calmly. It was nothing to her then that James's life should be turned upside down.

And she added, with icy detachment, I'm not surprised you'll never get servants to be prompt in the morning when they don't sleep in the house, and there's no room for Georgiana to sleep in the house. Georgiana preposterous name. Missus Book was always prompt. I'll say that for her, he replied, This, as he immediately recognized, was a failure intact on his part. So when she said quickly, I'm sure missus Bolt would be delighted to

come back if you asked her, he said nothing. What staggered his intellect and his knowledge of human nature was that she remained absolutely unmoved by this appalling, unprecedented and complete absence of any sign of breakfast. At after eight o'clock, just then Georgiana came. She had a key to the back door and entered the house by way of the scullery. Good morning, Georgiana, Helen greeted her going to the scullery, much more kindly than she greeted her uncle.

Instead of falling on Georgiana and slaying her, she practically embraced her. A gas cooking stove is a wondrous gift of heaven. You do not have to light it with yesterday's paper, damp wood, and the remains of last night's far In twelve minutes, not manly was the breakfast ready, but the kitchen was dusted, and there was a rose and a glass next to the bacon. James had calmed himself by reading the book, and the period of

waiting had really been very short. As he fronted the bacon and the flower, heading carefully shut the scullery door, the Manchester Guardian lay to the left of his plate. Thoughtful. Altogether, it was not so bad. Further, she smiled in handing him his tea. She too, he observed, must have slept ill. Her agreeable face was drawn, but her blue and white striped dress was impeccably put on. It was severe and yet very smooth.

It suited her mood. It also suited his. They faced each other as self controlled people do face each other at breakfast after white Knights disillusioned tremendously sensible, wise, gently cynical, seeing the world with steady and just orbs. I've been reading one of your books, Lass, he began with superb amiability. It's pretty near as good as a newspaper. There's somewhat about a

law case as goes on forever? Isn't it true? I suppose, but it might be the man has wrote that knew what he was talking about for once. In a way. It's rare and good. You mean Jarndyce for Jarndyce, she said, with a smile, not one of her condescending smiles. Aye, he said, I believe that's the name. Ah did's know, Lass, I just guessed, she answered. I suppose you don't have much time for reading. Uncle, not me, said he. I'm one of the busiest men in Bosley, and if you don't know it now you

will afore long. Oh, she cried, I've noticed that. But what can you expect with all those rents to collect yourself? Of course, I think you're quite right to collect them yourself. Rent collectors consumed ruin a property. Her turn was exceedingly sympathetic and comprehending. He was both surprised and pleased by it. He had misjudged her mood. It was certainly comfortable to have our young woman in the house who understood things as she did. You're right,

lass, he said. It's small oases as mean trouble. You're never done with college property, always summat. It's all small, isn't it. She went on about how much to the rent's average three and six a week. Bout that, he said she was a shrewd guesser. I can't imagine how you carry the money about, she exclaimed. Must be very heavy for you, I tell ya, he explained. I got my own system all

collected. If I hadn't, I couldn't get through in each street. I've got one tenant as I trust, and the other tenants can leave their rent and their rent books there when they do it regular for a month, I give em twopence apiece for their children. If they do it regular for a year, I make come a present of a week's rent at Christmas. It's cheaper nor rec collectors. What a good idea, she said, impressed.

But how do you carry the money about? A bank in Bosley and I bank internil too, and about once said Bosley, and twice eternal on Mondays, and twice at Bosley and tuesdays. Only yesterday I was behind. I reckon as I can do all my collecting between nine o'clock Monday and noon Tuesday. I go to the worst tenants first. Be sure of that, the son of em. If you don't catch em earlier Monday, you don't catch em at all. It's incredible to me how you can do it all in

a day and a half. She pursued, Why how many houses are there near two hundred and forty of Bosley? He responded, I've forgotten the sugar this time. Lass and internil, she said, passing the shrugger. I think I'll have that piece of bacon if you don't want it over a hundred, said he. A hundred and twenty, So that first to last you have to handle about sixty pounds each week, and all in silver and copper. Fancy what a weight it must be, aye, he said, but

with less enthusiasm. That's three thousand a year, she continued. Her tone was still innocuously sympathetic. She seemed to be talking of money as she might have talked of countess. Nevertheless, he felt that he had been entrapped. I expect you must have saved at the very least thirty thousand pounds by this time. She reflected judiciously, disinterestedly, speaking as a lawyer might have spoken. He offered no remark, that means another thirty pounds a week. She

resumed, decidedly she was marvelous at sums of interest. He persisted in offering no remark. By the way, she said, I must into my household accounts. How much did you tell me you allowed missus butter a week for expenses? A pound, he replied. Shortly. She made no comment. You don't own the house, do you, she inquired, No, he said, what's the rent? Eighteen pounds? He said, reluctant is a

word that inadequately describes his attitude. The worst of this house that it has no bathroom, She remarked, Still, eighteen pounds a year is eighteen pounds a year. Her tone was faultless in its innocent, sympathetic common sense. The truth was it was too faultless. It rendered James furious, with a fury that was dangerous because it had to be suppressed. Then suddenly she left the table. The keel butter at as shinning A pound is quite good enough,

Georgiana. He heard her exalting the servant in the scullery. Ten minutes later she put ten sovereigns in front of him. There's that ten pound note, she said, politely, but not quite accurately. I've got enough on me own to get on with. She fled ere he could reply, not a word had he contrived to say to her concerning Immanuel. End of chapter

twelve, Chapter thirteen of Heading with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. The LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Simon Evers, Chapter thirteen, The World. A few days later, James Orangeaw was alone in the front room, checking various accounts for repairs of property in Turnhill, when twin letters

fell into the quatuit of the apartment. The postman, the famous old postman of Bursley, who on fine summer days surmounted the acute difficulty of tender feet by delivering mails in worsted slippers, had swiftly pushed the letters as usual through the slit in the door. But nevertheless their advent had somehow the air of magic, as indeed the advent of letters always had. Mister Orangehaw glanced curiously from his chair over his spectacles at the letters as they lay dead on the

floor. Their singular appearance caused him to rise at once and pick them up. They were sealed with a green seal and addressed in a large and haughty hand, one to Helen and the other to himself. Obviously, they came from the world which referred to him as Jimmy. He was not used to being thrilled by mere envelopes, but now he became conscious of a slight quickening

of pulsation. He opened his own envelope. The paper was more like a blanket than paper, and might have been made from the material of a child's unturnable picture book. He had to use a stout paper knife, and when he did get into the envelope, he felt like a burglar. The discerning and shrewd ancient had guessed the contents he had feared, and he had also

hoped the contents would comprise an invitation to Missus Procter's house at Hillport. They did, and more than that, the signature was Missus Proctor's, and she had written him a four page letter. My dear mister Holleranshaw, believe me your most coordinate sincerely, Flora Proctor. Flora the strangest thing, perhaps in all this strange history, that he thought the name suited her. He had no intention of accepting the invitation, not exactly, but he enjoyed receiving it.

It constituted a unique event in his career, and the wording of it was very agreeable. Missus Protter proceeded thus, in pursuance of our plan, our plan, I'm also inviting your niece. Indeed, I've gathered from Emmanuel that he considers her as the prime justification of the party. We will throw them together. She will hear him sing. She never heard him sing. If this does not cure her, nothing will. Though he has a nice voice. I hope it will be a fine night so that we may take

the garden. I did not thank you half enough for the exceedingly kind way in which you received my really unbardonable visit the other evening, et cetera. James at once heard Immanuel Proctor sing, had a concert given in aid of something which deserved every discouragement, and he agreed with Missus Proctor, not that he pretended to know anything about singing. He sat down again to compose a refusal to the invitation, but before he had written more than a few words,

It had transformed itself into an acceptance. He was aware of the entire ridiculousness of his going to an evening party at Missus Proctor's. Still an instinct, powerful but obscure. It was the will to live, and naught else persuaded him by force to say that he would go. Have you had an invitation for Missus Proctor had asked him at tea, yes, said he have you? Yes? Said she shall you go? A Las, I shall go? She seemed greatly surprised us will go together? He said, I

don't think that I shall go, said she, hesitatingly. Have you written to refuse? No? Then I should advise you to go, Miras, Why unless you want to have trouble with me, said he grimly. But Uncle, it's no good butting uncle, he replied, if you did not mean to go, why did you give young Prott to understand as ye would go? I'll tell ye why ye change your mind? Lass, It's because you're ashamed of being seen there with your old uncle, and I'm sorry for

it. Uncle, she protested, how can you say such a thing. You ought to know that no such idea ever entered my head. He did know that no such idea had ever entered her head, and he was secretly puzzled for the real reason of her projected refusal, But being determined that she should go, he'd employed the surest and the least scrupuitous means of achieving his aim. He tapped nervously on the table and maintained the silence of the wounded

and the proud. Of course, if you take it that way, she said, after a pause, I will go, and he went through the comedy of gradually recovering from a wound. His boldness in accepting the invitation and in compelling Helen to accompany him, was the audacity of sheer ignorance. He had not surmise experiences which lay before him. She told him to order a cab. She did not suggest the advisability of a cab. She stated as a platitude the absolute indispensability of a cab. He had meant to ride to

Hillport in the tram car which ran past missus Potter's gate. However, he reluctantly agreed to order a cab, being fearful as she might after all, refuse to go. It was remarkable that, after having been opposed to the policy of throwing Helen and Emanuel together, he was now in favor of it. On the evening, when at five minutes past nine, she came into the front room clad for Missus Proctor's party. He perceived that the tram car would have been unsuitable. A cab, I told her. A hansom would

certainly not have held her. She was all in white and very complicated. No hat, simply a white silver spangled bandage round her head, neck and shoulders. She glanced at him. He wore his best black clothes. You look very well, said she, surprisingly, that old fashioned black necktie is splendid. So they went. James had the peculiar illusion that he was going to a belated funeral, for except at funerals, he had never in his

life ridden in a cab. When he descended with his fragile charge in Missus Proctor's illuminated porch, another cab was just plowing up the gravel of the drive in departure, and nearly the whole tribe of sweat numbers was on the doorstep. Some had walked and were boasting of speed. There was Sarah Swetnam, her brother Ted, the lawyer, her brother, Ronald the borough Surveyor,

her brother Adams the Bankershier, and her sister Enid age seventeen. This child was always called Joss by the family because they hated the name Enid, which they considered to be silly. Lilian, the newly aphinsd one, was not in the crowd. Where's Lilian, Hennn asked abruptly. Oh, she came earlier with the powerful Andrew, replied, the young fall and rather jealous Joss, she isn't an all regard now. Sarah rapidly introduced her brothers and sisters

to James. They were all very respectful and agreeable, and Adam's swetnam pressed his hand quite sympathetically, and Joss's frank smile was delicious. What surprised him was that nobody seemed surprised at his being there. None of the girls wore hats, he noticed, and he also noticed that the three men, all about thirty years, wore silk hats, wipe my mom and blue overcoats.

A servant, a sort of special edition of James's Georgiana, appeared and robbed every body of every garment that would yield easily to pulling, and then those lovely creatures stood revealed. Yes, Sarah herself was lovely under the rosy shades. The young men were elegantly slim and looked very much alike, except that

Adams had a beard, a feeble beard, but a beard. It is true that in their exact correctness they might have been mistaken for toast masters, or with the slight addition of silver neck chains, for high officials in a costly restaurant. But great step Uncle James could never have been mistaken for anything but a chip of the early nineteenth century flicked by the hammer of fate into the twentieth. His wide black necktie was the secret envy of the Sweatnam Boys.

The sweat and Boys had the air of doing now what they did every night of their lives. With facile ease. They led the way through the long hall to the drawing room. James followed, and en route he observed, at the extremity of a side hall, two young people sitting with their hands together in a dusky corner, male and female greeted He them, reflected

James with all the tolerant, disdainful wisdom of his years and situation. A piano was then heard, and As Ronald Sweatman pushed open the drawing room door for the women to enter, there came the sound of a shocked sh whereupon the invaders took to the tips of their toes and crept in as sinners. At the farther end, a girl was sitting at a grand piano, and in front of the piano glorious, effulgent, monarchical stood Immanual Proctor, holding

a piece of music horizontally at the level of his waist. He had a white flower in his button hole, and adhering to a quaint old custom which still lingers in the Five Towns and possibly elsewhere, he showed a crimson silk handkerchief tucked in between his shirt front and his white waistcoat. He had broad bands down the sides of his trousers. Not a hair of his head had

been touched by the accidental winds of circumstance. He surveyed the couple of dozen people in the large blowing room with a fixed smile and gesture of benelevhent congratulation. Missus Proctor was close to the door, emmanually just going to sing. She whispered and shook hands silently with James Olrainshaw first end of chapter thirteen. Chapter fourteen off hel him with the high hand by Arnold Bennet. This LibriVox

recording is in the public domain. Recording by Simon Overs Chapter fourteen song scene and dance. Every head was turned. Emmanuel coughed, frowned, and put his left hand between his collar and his neck, as though he had concealed something there. The new arrival slipped call siously into chairs. James was between Helen and Jos, and he distinctly saw Jos wink at Helen and Helen wink back. The winks were, without doubt an expression of sentiments aroused by the

solemnity of Emmanuel's frown. The piano tinkled on, and then Emmanuel's face was observed to change. The frown vanished, and a smile of heavenly rapture took its place. His mouth gradually opened till its resemblance to the penuntimate vowl was quite realistic, and simultaneously, by a curious muscular coordination, he rose on his toes to a considerable height in the air. The strain was terrible,

like waiting for a gun to go off. James was conscious of a strained vibration by his side, and saw that Joss Wetman had got the whole of a lace handkerchief into her mouth. The gun went off, not with a loud report, with a gentle and lofty tenor piping somewhere in the neighborhood of f By been only e though indeed a photograph would have suggested that Ammanner was singing at lowest at the upper sea, and the performance later resumed his normal

stature. Oh love, he exclaimed, adagio and sosternucto. Then the piano, in its fashion, also said, oh Love, Oh Love. Imman had exclaimed a game with slight traces of excitement and rising to heights of stature hitherto undreamt of, and the piano once more, in turn called plaintively on love. It would be too easy to mock Emmanuel's gift of song. I leave that to people named Sweatnam. There can be no doubt a Manal had a very taking voice, if thin, and that his singing gave pleasure to

the majority of his hearers, although any one else it pleased himself. When he sang, he seemed to be inspired by the fact. To him patent that he was conferring on mankind a boon inconceivably precious. If he looked a fool, his looks seriously misinterpreted his feelings. He did not spare himself. On that evening, he told his stepmother's guests all about love and all about

his own yearnings. He hid nothing from them. He made no secret of the fact that he lived for love alone, that he had known innumerable loves, but none like one particular variety, which described in full detail as a confession, and especially as a confession uttered before many maidens. It did not err on the side of reticence. Presently, having described a kind of amorous circle, he came again to o love, but this time his voice cracked,

which made him angry, with a stern and controlled anger. Still singing, he turned slowly to the pianist and fiercely glared at the pianist's unconscious back. The obvious inference was that if his voice had cracked, the fault was the piarists. The pianists poor thing, utterly unaware of the castAR garation she was receiving, stuck to her business. Less than a minute later, Immanner's voice cracked again. This time he turned even more deliberately to the pianist.

He was pained. He stared during five complete bars at the back of the pianist, still continuing his confession. He wished the audience to understand clearly where the blame lay. Finally, when he thought the pianist's back was sufficiently cooked, he faced the audience. I hope the pianists will not be so atrociously clumsy as to let my voice crack again, he seemed to be saying.

Evidently, his reproof to the pianist's back was effectual, for his voice did not crack again, and at length, when Joss had communicated her vibration to all her family and everyone had ceased to believe that the confession would ever end, the confession did end. It ended as it had begun, in an even agreeable tenor piping. Immana was much too great artist to allow himself to

be carried away by his emotion. The concluding words were oh rapture, and Emmanuel sang them just as if he had been singing one in elevenpence three farthings. Oh Rats, said Jos under cover of the impassioned applause. It were nearly as long as Jarndyce Vejarndyce observed Adams under the same cover, What cried James, enchanted, have you been reading that too? Adam Swetnam and great step uncle James had quite a little chat on the subject of Jarndyce Jarndyce.

Several other people, including the hostess, joined in the conversation, and James was surprised at the renown which John Dyce ve John Dye seemed to enjoy. He was glad to find his view shared. On every hand, he was also glad and startled to discover himself a personality in the regions of Hillport. He went through more formal introductions in ten minutes than he'd been through during the whole of his previous life. It was a whole evening. He wiped his

brow, then iced. Champagne was served to him, having fluttered round him in her ample way and charmingly flattered him. Missus Proctor left him encircled chiefly by young women, in order to convey to later arrivals that they and they alone were the authentic objects of her solicitude. Emmanuel Proctor, clad in triumph, approached and questioned James as one shrewd man of business may question another concerning

the value in the market of Wilbraham Hall. Shortly afterwards, a remarkable occurrence added zest to the party. Helen had wandered away with Sarah and Josh Swetnam. She re entered the drawing room while James and Emmandall were in discussion, and her attitude towards Emandal was decidedly not sympathetic. Then Sarah Swetnam came in alone, and then Andrew Dene came in alone. Oh, here's Andrew, Helen, Sarah exclaimed. Andrew Dene had the air of a formidable page.

He was a tall, heavy, dark young man with immense sloping shoulders, a black mustache, and incandescent eyes, which he used as though he were somewhat suspicious of the world in general. If his dress had been less untidy, he would have made a perfect villain of a melodrama. He smiled the unsure smile of a villain as he awkwardly advanced with outstretched hand to heaven.

Helen put her lips together, kept her hands well out of view, and offered him a bow that could only have been properly appreciated under a microscope. The episode was quite negative, but amounted to a scene, a scene at one of Missus Proctor's parties, A scene moreover that mystified everybody, A scene that implied war and the wounded, some discreetly Withdrew. Of these was Emmanuel,

who had the sensitiveness of an artist. Andrew Dene presently perceived, after standing for some seconds like an imbecile stalk on one leg, that the discretion of the others was worthy to be imitated. At the door, he met Lilian and they disappeared together, arm in arm, as betrothed lovers should. Three people remained in that quarter of the drawing room, Helen, her uncle and Sarah Swetnam whine Hell, said Sarah, aghast, what's the matter?

Nothing, said Helen calmly. But surely you shake hands with and You when you meet him, don't you? That depends how I feel, my dear, said Helen. Then something is the matter, if you want to know, said Helen with haughtiness. In the hall just now, that is I I overheard mister Deane say something about Ammanya prot to singing, which I consider

very improper. But we all, I'm going to out into the garden, said Helen, A pretty hard you do, James, and muttered inaudibly to himself as he meandered to infro in the hall, observing the manners and customs of Hilport's society. Another couple were now occupying the privacy of the seat at the end of the side hall, and James noticed that the heads of this couple are precisely the same reddative positions as the heads of the previous couple.

Bless us, he murmured, I prepared the couple, who, seeing in him a spy, rose and fled. Then he resumed his silent soliloquy, pretty oud you do. The Charles has fixed on that there immanual proctor as ever a chip could be. And yet James had caught the winking with jos Swettenham joined the song as an enigma heading grew darker and darker to him.

He was almost ready to forswear his former belief and to serp positive here that Helen had no sense whatever missus Poctord loomed up, disengaged, Ah, mister loner in Shaw. She said, everybody seemed to be choosing in the garden. Shall we go all there this way? She let him down the side hall. By the bye, she murmured with a smile, I think our plan is succeeding. Without warning him, she sat down in the seat, and of course he joined her, and she put her head close to his,

evidently in a confidential mood. Bless us, he said to himself, I propo of himself for Missus Proctor, glancing about for spies. It's ordered of me to make fun of poor dear Emanuel's singing, pursued Missus Proctor. But how did ye take it? If I'm not mistaken, she winked. I winked, said James, Yes, I winked. Then everything's all right, missus said he you don't mind what you're about. You'll have a daughter in law. Afore you can say a knife not henin aye helen, but

mister holler in shaw. Here happened an interruption, a servant with a tray of sustenance comprising more champagne. James prudent would have refused, but under the hospitable urgency of Missus Procter, he compromised and yielded, I'll join ye. So she joined him. Then a string of young people passed the end of the side hall, and among them was jos Swetnam, who capered up to the old couple on her long legs. Oh, Missus Potter, he cried,

What a pity we can't dance on the lawn. I wish you could, my dear, said missus Potter. Am I carn't, ye, demanded James. No music, said Jos. You see, Missus Potter, explained, the lawn is at the far end of the garden, and it is impossible to hear the piano so far off. If we're only a little piano, we can move it about, but it's a grand piano in James's next speech was to be felt the influence of Champagne. Look here, he said,

there's nobody step from here to the green Man? Is it the green Man, echoed Missus Potter, not comprehending, Aye, the pub I believe there is an inn at the bend, said Missus Proctor. I don't think I've ever noticed the sign. It's the green Man, said James. If you'll send some one round there, and the respects of mister honor in Shaw to mister Burnskin. That's the landlord, and will you lend me the concertina? As I saw him last Martin mus Oh, mister Honorin Shaw shrieked,

Jos, can you play for dancing? How perfectly lovely it will be? I fancy as I can keep your trotters moving, child, said he gaily. Upon this, two spinsters, the Missus Webber, wearing duplicates of one anxious visage supervened and with strange magic gestures, beckoned Missus Proctor away. News of the episode between Andrew, Dene and Helen had at length reached them, and they deemed it a sacred duty to inform the hostess of the sad event.

They were of the species of women that spares neither herself nor others. Therefore was that they were too compassionate for this world. Promising to send the message to mister Benskin, Missus Poctor vanished to her doom. Within a quarter of an hour, A face unique in the annos of Hillport had organized itself on the lawn in the dim verduous retreats behind Missus Proctor's house. The lawn

was large enough to be just too small for a tennis court. It was also of a pretty mid Victorian irregularity as regards to shape, and guarded from the grim horizons of the five towns by a ring of superb elms. A dozen couples, mainly youngish, promenaded upon its impeccable surface in obvious expectation, while on the borders in rustic chairs, odd remnants of humanity, mainly Oldish,

gazed in ecstasy at the picturesque ensemble. In the midst of the lawn was Missus Proctor's famous weeping willow, on whose branches Chinese lanterns had been hung by a reluctant gardener, who held to the proper gardener's axiom that lawns are made to be seen and not hurt. The moon aided these lanterns to the best of her power. Under the tree was a cane chair, and on

the cane chair that an aging man with the concertina between his hands. He put his head on one side and played a few bars, and the couples posed themselves expectantly. Hold on a bit the virtue, ASO called out, the tied a bit drafty. Here he put the concertina on his knees, fumbled in his tail pocket, and drew forth a tasseled Turkish cap, which majestically he assumed The tassel fell over his forehead. He owned several Turkish caps

and never went abroad without one. Then he struck up definitely, and Missus Proctor's party had resolved itself, as part is often to do, into a dance in the blissful excitation caused by the ancient and jiggy tunes which Jimmy played, the sad episode of Helen Rathburn and Andrew Dean appeared to be forgotten. Helen danced with every man except Andrew, and Andrew danced with every woman except Helen. But missus Procter had not forgotten the episode, nor had the missus

Webber. The reputation of missus Procter's entertainments for utter correctness and her own enormous reputation for fine tact were impaired, and Missus Procter was determined that that which ought to happen should happen. She had a brief and exceedingly banal interview with Helen and another with Andrew, and an interval having elapsed, Andrew was observed to approach Helen and ask her for a polker. Helen punctinuously accepted, and

he led her out. The outraged gods of social decorum were appeased, and the reputations of Missus Procter and her parties stood as high as ever. It was well and diplomatically done. Nevertheless, the unforeseen came to pass, for at the end of the polka, Helen fainted on the grass, and not Andrew, but Emmanuel was first to succor her. It was a highly disconcerting climax, of course, being Helen recovered with singular rapidity, but that did

not lighten the mystery. In the cab going home, she wept. James could scarcely have believed it of her. Oh uncle, she half whispered, in a voice of grief, you fiddle while Rawn was burning. This obscure saying baffled him, the more so that he'd been player concertina, not a

fiddle at all. His feelings were vague and in some respects contradictory, but he was convinced that Missus Proctor's scheme for separating Helen and the upon her Immanuel was not precisely succeeding end of chapter fourteen Chapter fifteen of Helen with the High Hat by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Simon Evers, Chapter fifteen, The Gift. After that night, Great step Uncle James became more than a celebrity. He became a notoriety in Bursley.

Had it not been for the personal influence of Missus Proctor, with the editor of the Signal, James's exploits upon the concertina under weeping willows at midnight would have received facetious comment in the weekly column of gossip that appears in the great daily Organ of the Five Towns on Saturdays. James, aided by nothing but a glass or two a champagne, had suddenly stepped into the forefront of the town's life. He was a card. He rather liked being a card.

But within his own heart the triumph and glory of James Orangshaw were less splendid than outside it. Helen, apparently ashamed of having wept into his waistcoat, kept him off with a kind of a rod of stiff politeness. He could not get near her, and for at least two reasons he was anxious to get near her. He wanted to have that frank, confidential talk with

her about the general imbecility of her Odora Emmanuel Proctor. That talk which he had failed to begin on the morning, when she been so sympathetic concerning his difficulties in collecting a large income, her movements from day to day were mysterious. Facts pointed to the probability that she and Emmanuel were seeing each other with no undue publicity. And yet despite facts, despite her behavior at the party, he could scarcely believe that shrewd Helen had not pierced the skin of Emmanuel

and perceived the emptiness therein. At any rate, Emmanuel had not repeated his visits to the house. The only visitors had been Sarah Swetnam and her sister Lilian, the fiancee of Andrew Dean. The chatter of the three girls had struck James as being almost hysterically gay, but in the evening Hellyn was very gloomy, and he fancied a certain redness in her eyes. Though Helen was assuredly the last woman in the world to cry, she had beyond doubt cried

once, and he now suspected her of another weeping. Even more detrimental to his triumph in his own heart was the affair of the ten pound note which she had stolen or abstracted. If you will, and then restored it to him with such dramatic haughtiness that ten pounds was an awful trial to him. It rankled not any with him, but he felt sure with her still.

If she had had her pride, he also had his. He reckoned that she had not rightly behaved in taking the note without his permission, and that in returning the full sum and pretending that he had made it necessary for her to run the house on her own money, she had treated him meanly. The truth was she had wounded him again. Instincts of astounding generosity were budding in him, but he was determined to await an advance from her. He

gave her money for housekeeping, with him moderation, and nothing more. Then one evening she announced that the morrow would be her birthday. James felt uneasy. He'd never given birth to presents, but he well knew that presents were the correct thing on birthdays. He went to bed in a state of the most absurd and couseness mental disturbance. He did not know what to do, whereas it was enormously obvious what to do. He woke up about one o'clock

and reflected with an air of discovery a dawn was extremely friendly. When she told me it was her birthday to morrow. She meant it as an advance. I should take it as an advance. About half past one, he said to himself, I'll give her a guinea to spend if she likes it. Did genuinely seem to him a vast sum a guinea to fritter away. However, towards three o'clock its vastness had shrunk. Dash to would ant give

the wench a fiver? He exclaimed it was madness, But he had an obscure feeling that he might have had more amusement if he had begun being mad rather earlier in life. Upon this he slept soundly till six o'clock. His mind then, unfortunately got entangled in the painful episode of the ten pound note. He and Helen had the same blood in their veins. They were alike in some essential traits. He knew that neither of them could ever persuade himself

or herself to mention that miserable ten pound note again. If I gave her a tenner, he said, that would make us See as I settled to forget that business and let bygones be by gones, I'll give her a tenor. It was preposterous. She could not, of course, spend it. She would put it away so it would not be wasted. Upon this, he rose poor simpleton. Ever since the commencement of his relations with Helen surprised and followed surprise for him, and the series was not ended. The idea

of giving a gift made him quite nervous. He fumbled in his cash box for quite a long time, and then he called nervous Helen. She came out of the kitchen into the front room, dress white muslin, unspeakable extravagance in a town of smuts. It's thy birth de las. She nodded, smiling, Well take this. He handed her a ten pound note. Oh thank you, uncle, She cried, just on the calm side of effusiveness. At this point the surprise occurred. There was another ten pound note in

the cash box. His fingers went for a stroll on their own account and returned with that note. Hold on, he admonished her for jumping to conclusions and this, and he gave her a second note. He was much more startled than she was. Oh thank you uncle, and then laughing, oh thank you uncle, and then laughing, why it's nearly a sovereign for every year of my life? Oh old Art twenty six. I'm gone, dotty,

he said to his soul, I'm gone dotty. And his eyes watched his fingers take six sovereigns out of the box and count them into her small white hand, and his cheek felt her kiss. She went off with twenty six pounds. Twenty six pounds. The episode was entirely incredible. Breakfast was a most pleasing meal. Though acknowledging himself an imbecile, he was obliged to acknowledge also that a certain pleasure springs from a certain sort of imbecility. Helen

was adorable now. That same morning he had received from Missus Procter a flattering note asking him if he could spare the time to go up to Hillport and examine Wilbraham Hall with her and give her his expert advice as to its value, et cetera. He informed Helen of the plan. I'll go with you, she said at once. What's in the wind, he asked himself. He saw in suggestion a device for seeing Immanuel. The fact is, she added, I want to show yours up at Hillport that might do for us.

He winced. She said nothing about her removal. For quite some time. He hated the notion of her removal, flitting, he called it. It would mean extra expense too. As for Hillport, he was sure that nothing except cottages could be got in Hillport for less than fifty pounds a year. If she thought he was going to increase his rent by thirty two pounds a year besides rates, she was in error. The breakfast finished in a slight mist. He hardened the idea of her indicating houses to him, the

idea of her assuming that well no use in meeting trouble. Halfway end of chapter fifteen, Chapter sixteen of Helen with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Simon Evers, Chapter sixteen, The Hall and its Result. Yes, said Missus Proctor, gazing about her, to James olleran Shaw. It certainly is rather spacious, rather spacious, James repeated, in the secret hollows of his mind. It was not

spacious, It was simply fantastic. They stood those two, Missus Potter and her usual flowered silk, and James in his usual hard rent collecting clothes at the foot of the double staircase, which sprang with a light of elegance of wings from the floor of the entrance hall of Wilbraham Hall. In front of them, over the great door was a musician's gallery, and over that a huge window. On either side of the great door were narrow windows which looked

over stretches of green country far away from the Five Towns. For Wilbraham Hall was on the supreme ridge of Hillport and presented only its back yard, so

to speak, to the Five towns. And though the carpets were up rolled up and tied with strings, and though there were dark rectangular spaces on the walls showing where pitchers had been, the effect of the hall was quite a furnished effect, polished oak and tasseled hangings, and monstrous vases and couches and chairs preserved in it the appearance of a home, if a home of gance. Decidedly it was worthy of the mighty reputations of the extinct Wilbrahams. The

Wilbrahams had gradually risen in North Staffordshire for two centuries. About the Sunday of the Battle of Waterloo, they were at their apergee. Then for a century they had gradually fallen, and at last they had extinguished themselves in the person of a young old fool who was in parison for having cheated a pawnbroker. This young old fool had nothing but the name of Wilbraham to his back. The wealth of the Wilbrahams, or what remained of it, after eight decades

of attention, had durined. The course of a famous twenty years lawsuit between the father of the said young fool and a farming cousin in California, slowly settled like gold and dust in the offices of lawyers in Carey Street, London, and the house grounds Lake and furniture save certain portraits, were now on sale by order of the distant winner of the lawsuit, and both Missus Proctor and James could remember the time when the twin horse equipage of the Wilbrahams used

to dash about the Five towns like the chariots of the Sun. The recollection made Missus Proctor sad, but in James it produced no such feeling. To Missus Proctor. Wilbraham Hall was the last of the stylish port wine estates that

in old days dotted the heights around the five towns. To her, it was the symbol of the death of tone and the triumph of industrialism, whereas James merely saw it as so much building land upon which streets of profitable and inexpensive semi detached villas would one day rise at the one's touch of the man who had sufficient audacity for a prodigious speculation. It'd be like living in the

covered market living here, James observed. The Salut's market is the largest roof in Bersley, and old inhabitants, incapable of recovering from the surprise of marketing under cover instead of in an open square, still after thirty years, referred to it as the covered market. Missus Proctor smiled, by the way, said James, where's them, charlder. The old people looked round. Emmanuel and Helen, who had entered the proud preacincts with them, had vanished.

I believe they're upstairs, ma'am, said the fat caretaker, pleading her respectable white apron. You can go, said Missus Proctor curtly, to this vestige of groundeur. I will see you before I leave. The apron resented the dismissal, and perhaps would have taken it from none but Missus Proctor. But Missus Proctor had a men and a flowered silk, before which even an apron

of the Wilbrams must quail. I may tell you, mister Laurenshaw, she remarked, confidentially, when they were alone, that I have not the slightest intention of buying this place a man who takes advantage of my good nature. You've no idea how persistent he is. So all you have to do is to advise me firmly not to buy it. That's why I've asked you to come up. He acknowledges that you are an authority, and he be forced

to accept your judgment. Why didn't you say that afore? Missus asked James Buntley before when before that kick up party of yours he got out of me? Then that as I thought it would dirt cheap at eight thousand. But I don't want to move, pleaded Missus Potter. I'm asking ye why you didn't tell me afore? James repeated. Missus Proctor looked at him. Men are trying creatures, she said, So it seems you can't tell a ten a little for me, and she sighed, I don't know as I object

to that what I object to is contradicting. Miss Then why did you bring Helen? Missus? Proctor demanded, I didna she come? Has in exchanged lances, and now she and Emmanuel have run off. It looks to me, said James, as if your plan for knocking their two heads together was not turning out as you meant it, Missus. And what's more, said she, I do believe that the man who wants me to buy this place so that when I am gone you can make a big splash here with your

niece and your money. Mister Loreranshaw, what do you think of that he may make as much splash as he's of mine too, wi my niece, James answered, But he won't make much of a splash within my money. I can promise ye. His orbs twinkled. I can promise ye, he repeated. To whom do you mean to leave it then? Not to his wife? Oh well, as we hear, I suppose he may as well see what there is to be seen, and those two dreadful young people must be found. They mounted the stairs. Will you give me your arm?

Mister Hollier in Shaw to gifts. He was not used, although he had given twenty six pounds that day. The spectacle of Jimmy ascending the state staircase of Wilbraham Hall with all the abounding figure of Missus Proctor on his arm would have drawn crowds had it been offered to the public at sixpence a head. They inspected the Great Drawing Room, the Great Dining Room, the Great Bedroom

and all the lesser rooms. The galleries, the balconies, the panelings, the embrasures, the sweets and sweets and sweets of Georgian and Victorian decaying furniture, the ceilings and the cornices, the pictures and engravings, of which some hundreds remained, the ornaments, the clocks, the screens, and the microscopic knick knacks. Both of them lost count of everything, except that before they reached the attics, their path through forty five separate apartments, not including linen

closets. It was in one of the attics, as empty as Emmanuel's head, that they discovered Emmanuel and heading, gazing at a magnificent prospect over the moorlands, with the gardens, the paddock and Wilbraham Water immediately beneath. We've been looking for you everywhere. Helen burst out, Oh, missus Potter, do come with me to the end of the corridor and look at three old distaffs that I've found in a cupboard. During the absence of the women,

James Olrainshaw contradicted himself to Emmanuel for the sweet sake of Emmanuel's stepmother. Little by little they descended to the earth, with continual detours and halts by Helen, who was several times lost and found. I've told him, said James, quietly and proudly. I've told him. It's no use to you unless you want to turn it into a building estate. They separated into two couples at the gate, with elaborate formalities on the part of Emmanuel, which Uncle

James more or less tried to imitate. Well murmured James, sighing relief, as they waited for the electric tram in that umbrageous and aristocratic portion of the Oldcastle Road which lies nearest to the ports of Wilbraham Hall. He was very pleased with himself, because at the cost of his own respect, he pleased Missus Proctor Well murmured Helen in response, tapping on the edge of the pavement, the very same sunshade in whose company James had first made her acquaintance.

She seemed nervous, hesitating, apprehensive. What about that house, as you've so kindly chose them for me, he asked genially. He wanted to humor her. She looked him straight in the eyes. You've seen it, said she? What? He snorted, Well, have I seen it just now? She replied, it's Wilbraham Hall. I knew that missus Proctor wouldn't have it, and besides, I've made a manuel give up auld idea of it, he laughed, but with a strange and awful sensation in his stomach.

A poor joke, las he observed, with a laugh dead in his throat. It isn't a poor joke, said she. It isn't a joke at all. Tis those seriously think as I should buy that there barracks to please thee? Certainly, she said, courageously, just that to please me. I'm right enough where I am, he asserted, grimly. What vat should I buy Wilburroom Hall? What should I do in it? Live in it? Trafalgar Rhad's good enough for me. But it isn't good enough for me,

said she. I would ner minded, he said savagely. I wouldn't have minded going into a house a bit bigger. But nothing is big enough for me except Wilbraham Hall, she said. He said nothing. He was furious. It was her birthday and he had given her six and twenty pounds ten shillings a week for a year, and she barely kissed him. And now instantly after that amazing and mad generosity, she had the face to look cross because he would not buy Wilbraham Hall. It was inconceivable, it was

unutterable. So he said nothing. Why shouldn't you? After all, she resumed, You've got an income of nearly five thousand a year. Now he hated her for the mean manner in which he had wormed out of him secrets that previously he had shared with no one. You don't spend the twentieth part of it. What are you going to do with it? What are you going to do with it? You'll get you an old man, cold horrors. You can't take it with you when you leave the five towns. You

know whom should he leave your money to? You'll probably die worth a hundred thousand pounds at this rate. You'll leave it to me, of course, because there's nobody else for you to leave it to. Why can't you use it now instead of wasting it in old stockings? I bank my money, wench, he hissingly put in old stockings. She repeated loudly. We could live splendidly at Wilbromo Hall for two thousand a year and you would still be

saving nearly three thousand a year. He said. Nothing. Do you support as I gave up my position at school in order to live in a poky little hall at eighteen brands a year. What do you think I can do with myself all day in Trafalgar Road? Why nothing. There's no or even

for a piano, and so my fingers are stiffening every day. It's not life at all, Naturally, it's a great privilege, she pursued, with a vicious inflection that reminded him perfectly of Susan for a girl like me to live with an old man like you, all alone, with one servant and no sitting room. But some privileges cost too, dear. The fact is you never think of me at all, And he had but just given her six and twenty pounds. You think you've got a cheap house keeper in me,

but you haven't. I'm a very good housekeeper, especially in a very large house. But I'm not cheap. She spoke as if she had all her life been accustomed to a living in vast mansions. But James knew that, despite her fine friends, she never lived in anything appreciably larger than his own dwelling. He knew there was not a house in Snade Road, Longshore worth more than twenty five pounds a year. The whole outbreak was shocking and

disgraceful. He scarcely recognized her. He said nothing, and then suddenly he said, I shall buy no Wilbraham Hall. Las. His voice was final. You could sell it again at a prophet, said she. You could turn it into a building estate. Parrotcraied caught from himself or from Emmanuel. And later on we could go and live somewhere else. Yes, said he Bookingham Palace. Lightly. I don't, she began, I should buy no

Wilbraham Hall. He reiterated. Greek had met Greek. The tram surged along and swallowed up the two Greeks. They were alone in the tram, and they sat down opposite each other. The conductor came and took James's money, and the conductor heart had turned his back when Henn snapped, with nostrils twitching. You're a miser, that's what you are, A regular old miser. Every one knows that. Every one calls you a miser. If you aren't a miser, I should like you to tell me why you live on about

three pawns a week when your income is ninety pounds a week. I thought I might do you some good. I thought I might get you out of it. But it seems I can't. Oh, he snorted, with a painful sight. Other persons boarded the car at Tea. She behaved precisely like an angel, not the least hint of her demeanor, of the ineffable affray of the afternoon. She was so sweet that she might have given her twenty six Wilbraham halls instead of twenty six pounds. He spoke not. He was

in a very deep sense upset. She spent the evening in her room. Good Bye, she said. The next morning, most amiably, it was after breakfast. She was hatted, loved, and sunshaded. What he exclaimed, or of why she said, all methings are packed up. I'll ascend for them. I think I can get back to the school. If I can't, I shall go to my mother in Canada. Thank you very much for all your kindness. If I go to Canada, of course I shall come and see you before I leave. He let her shake his hand.

For two days he was haunted by memories of kidney oblets and by the word miser miser him, A miser him, he frained, tell right was a miser but him. Then the natty servant gave notice, and missus Butt called and suggested that she should resume her sway over him, But she did not employ exactly that phrase. He longed for one of Helen's meals as a drunkard longs for alcohol. Then Helen called with the cauntual information that she was off

to Canada. She was particularly sweet. She had the tact to make the interview short. The one blot on our conduct of the interview was that she congratulated on the possible return of Missus Budt, of which she had heard from the natty servant. Goodbye, uncle, she said, good bye. She had got as far as the door when he whispered brokenly alas Helen turned quickly towards him. End of Chapter sixteen, Chapter seventeen, off Heading with the

High Hat by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is the public domain recording by Simon Evers, Chapter seventeen, Descendants of Machiavelli. Yes, she turned towards him with a rapid, impulsive movement which expressed partly her sympathy for her old uncle, and partly a feeling of joy caused by the sudden hope that he decided to give way a by Wilbraham Hall after all. And the fact was

that in his secret soul he had decided to give way. He decided that Helen, together with Helen's cooking, was worse to him the price of Wilbraham Hall. When he saw her brusque, eager gesture, he began to reflect His was a wily and profound nature. He reckoned that he could read the human soul. And he said to himself, the wenches and saw set on leaving me as I thought she was. And instead of saying to her, Ellen, las, if you'll stop, you shall have your Wilbraham Hall.

In terms of affecting sad surrender. He said, I'm sorry to lose thee, my girl, but what must be must, And when he caught the look in her eyes, he was more than ever convinced that he would be able to keep Helen without satisfying her extremely expensive whim. Helen, for her part, began to suspect that if she played the fish with sufficient skill, she would capture it. Thus, they both, in a manner of speaking,

got out their landing nets. I don't say jam tolerance. Shaw proceeded in accents, calculated to prove to her that he had just as great a horror of sentimentality as she had. I don't say as he wouldn't make a rare good mistress or Wilbraham hall. I don't say as I wouldn't like to see you in it. But when a man meets my age, he's fixed in his habits like And what's more, supposing I am saving a bit of money, who am I saving it for? If it isn't for you and

your mother? He said, as much yourself. I might pop off any minute. Uncle Henn protested, Ay any minute, he repeated firmly, I've known stronger men nor me pop off as quick as a bottle of Giner beer near the fire. Here he gazed at her, and his gaze said, if I popped off here in a now, wouldn't you feel ashamed of yourself for being so hard on your old uncle? You'll have many and many a

year. Yet Henden smiled. He shook his head pessimistically. I've set me out, he continued on, leaving a certain sum for you and your mother. I've had it in mind since, and my dunt nor when it's a fancy your mine and I cannot do it if I'm all to go around the five towns buying barracks. Helen laughed, What a man you are for exaggerating. She flattered him. Then she sat down. He considered that he was gradually winding in his line with immense skill. Aye, he ejaculated with an

absent air. It's a fancy your mine. How much do you want to leave? And in questioned, faintly smiling, don't you bother head about that? Said he. You may take it from me, as it's a tidy sum. And when I've done and gone and you've got it all, then you can do as you feel inclined. I shall beat her as sure as eggs, he told himself. All this means that he'll give him when he comes to the point. She told herself, and aloud she said, have

you had supper? Uncle? No, he replied. The next development was that, without another word, she removed her gloves, lifted her pair hands to her head, and slowly drew hatpins from her hat. Then she removed her hat and plunged the pins into it again. He could scarcely refrain from snatching off his own tasseled Turkish cap and pitching it in the air. He felt as if he had won the Battle of Hastings, or defeated the captain

of the bowling club in a single handed match. And to think, he reflected, but I should have given in to her by this time, who hadn't got more sense in my little finger than et cetera. I think, carstair and cook you a bit of supper, said Helen. I suppose Georgiana is in the kitchen. Ever isn't as in the back entry? Said Jimmy. What's she doing in the back entry? Counting the stars? Said Jimmy, And that young man as comes with the bread helping her most like?

I must talk to that girl, Helen Rose. He may said Jimmy, but the baker's man will have the last word, or times is changed. He was gay. He could not conceal his gaiety. He saw himself from the menace of the thralldom of missus Butt. He saw himself gormandizing over the meals that Helen alone could cook. He saw himself trotting up and down the streets of Bursley, with the finest, smartest lass in the five towns by his side, and scarcely a penny of extra expenditure, and all this happy

issue due to his diplomatic and histrionic skill. The fact was Helen really liked him. There could be no doubt about that. She liked him, and she would not leave him. Also, she was a young woman of exceptional common sense, and being such, she would not risk the loss of a large fortune merely for the sake of indulging pique engendered by his refusal to gratify

a ridiculous caprice. Before she had well quitted the room, he saw with clearness that he was quite the astutious man in the world, and that Helen was clay in his hands. The sound of crockery and the scullery, and the cheerful little explosion when the gas ring was ignited, and the low mutter of a conversation that ensued between Helen and Georgiana. These phenomena were music to

the artist in him. He extracted the concertina from its case and began to play the Dead March in Saul. Not because his sentiments had a foundation in the slightest degree funereal, but because he could perform the Dead March in Saul with more virtuosity than any other piece except the Hallelulio Chorus. And he did not desire to insist too much on his victory by filling Trafalgar Road with the Hallelulio chorus. He was discretion itself. When she came back to the parlor

astoundingly natty in a muslin apron of Georgiana's, to announce supper. She made no reference to the concert which she was interrupting. He abandoned the concertina, gently caressing it into its leather shell. He was fooled to the brim with kindness. It seemed to him that his life with Helen was commencing all over again. Then he followed the indications of his nose, which already for some

minutes had been prophesying to him. Within the concoction of the supper, Helen had surpassed herself, and she had there was kidney, no not in an omelet, but impaled on a skewer, a novel species of kidney, a particuliarity in kidney's where's this pick the door, plus, he asked, it's the kidneys of that rabbit that you've brought in for to morrow, said she.

Now he had no affection for rabbit as an article of dart, and he'd only bought the rabbit because the rabbit happened to be going past his door in the hands of a hawker that morning. His perfunctory purchase of it showed how he had lost interest in life and meals since Helen's departure, and lo she had transformed a minor part of it into something wondrous, luscious and unforgettable. Ah. She was Helen, and she was his. I've asked Georgiana

to make up my bed, Helen said. After the divine repassed. I'll tell ye what I'll do, he said, in an ecstasy of generosity, I'll buy thee a piano lass and we'll put it in parlor against the wall where them books are. Now she kept silence, a silence which vaguely disturbed him, so that he added, and if you're bent on a bigger oas there's one up a park road above the park, send it a touch. At least it's the end of a ternice as I can get for thirty pounds

a year. My dearest uncle, she said, in a firm, even voice, What are you talking about? Didn't I tell you when I came in that I had settled to go to Canada. I thought it was all decided. Surely you don't think I'm going to live in a poky house in Park Road, the very street where my school was too. I perfectly understand that you won't buy Wilbrahm all. That's all right. I sha'n't pout.

I ain't women who pout. We can't agree, but we're friends. You do what you like with your money, and I do what I like with myself. I had a sort of idea I would try to make you beautifully comfortable, just for the last time before I left England, and that's why I'm staying. I do hope you didn't imagine anything else. Uncle there she kissed him not as a niece, but as a wise experienced nurse might have kissed a little boy. For she, too, in her way, reckoned

herself, somewhat of a diplomatist and a descendant of Machiavelli. She thought, it's a funny thing if I can't bring him to his knees with a tasty supper, just to make it clear to him what he'll lose if he loses me. James Orangshaw had no sleep that night, and Helen have but little end of chapter seventeen. Chapter eighteen of Helen with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Simon Evers.

Chapter eighteen. She cane he came downstairs early, as he had done after a previe sleepless night, also caused by Helen, that it would be foodish, fatuous, and inexcusable to persevere further in his obstinacy against Helen. This he knew. He thought clearly that all his arguments to her about money and the saving of money were ridiculous. They would not have carried conviction even to

the most passive intelligence, and Helen's intelligence was far from passive. They were not even true, in fact, for he had never intended to leave any money to Helen's mother. He never intended to leave any money to anybody, simply because he had not cared to think of his own decease. He made no plans about the valuable fortune, which, as Helen had too forcibly told him, he would not be able to bear away with him when he left

persly forever. This subject was not pleasant to him. All his rambling sentences to Helen, which he had thought so clever when he uttered them, were merely an excuse for not parting with money, money that was useless to him. On the other hand, what Helen had said was both true through and convincing. At any rate. It convinced him he was a miser. He admitted it. Being a miser, he saw, was one way of enjoying

herself, but not the best way. Again, if he really desired to enrich Helen, how much better to enrich her at once than at an uncertain date when he would be dead. Dead people can't be thanked, Dead people can't be kissed. Dead people can't have curious dainties offered to them for their supper. He wished to keep Helen, but Henn would only stay on one

condition. That condition was a perfectly easy condition for him to fulfill. After paying eight thousand pounds or a bit less for Wilbraham Hall, he would still have about ten times as much money as he could possibly require. Of course, eight thousand pounds was a lot of coin, but then you can't measure women, especially when they are good cooks, in terms of coin. For instance, it happened that he had exactly eight thousand pounds in shares of the

London and Law north Western Railway Company. The share certificates were in his safe. He could hold them in his hand. He could sell them and buy Wilbraham Hall with the proceeds. That is to say, he could exchange them for Helen. Now, it would be preposterous to argue that he would not derive more satisfaction from Helen than from those crackling share certificates. Wilbraham Hall, once he became its owner, would be a worry, an awful worry.

Well, would it? Would not Helen be entirely capable of looking after it, of superintending it in every way? He knew that she would. As for the upkeep of existence in Wilbraham Hall, had not had him proved to him that its cost was insignificant when compared to his income she had? And as to his own daily manner of living, could he not live precisely as he chose at Wilbraham Hall. He could. It was vast, but nothing

would compare him to live in all of it at once. He could choose a nice little room and put a note on the door that it was not to be disturbed, and Helen could run the rest of the mansion as her caprice dictated. The process of argument was over when Helen descended to put the finishing touches to a breakfast, which he had evidently concocted with Georgiana the night before. Breakfast is ready, uncle, she called to him. He obeyed, flowers on the table once more, the first since her departure, a

clean cloth, a general inexplicable tuning up of the meal's frame. He would now perhaps have expected him to yield as gracefully as an old man can. He wanted to yield, He hungered to yield. He knew that it was utterly for his own good to yield. But if you seriously expect him to yield, your knowledge of human nature lacks depth. Something far stronger than argument, something far stronger than desire for his own happiness, prevented him from yielding.

Pride, as silly self conceit, the greatest enemy of the human race forbade him to yield, for on the previous night Helen had snubbed him, and not for the first time. He could not accept the snub with meekness that would have paid him handsomely to do so, though as a Christian and a philosopher he ought to have done so, he could not. So he put on a brave face, pretended to accept the situation with contented calm, and talked to Vivs. Canada was the next street, And as if her

going was entirely indifferent to him, Helen imitated him. It was a lovely morning, not a cloud in the sky, only in their hearts, Uncle, she said. After breakfast was done and cleared away, he was counting rents in his cash box in the front parlor, and she had come to him and was leaning over his shoulder. Well, thus have you got twenty five pounds in that box? It was obvious that he had. I shouldn't be surprised, said he. I wish you'd lend it to me. What

for? I want to go over to Hambridge and book my berth, definitely, and I've no loose cash. Now Here was a chance to yield. But no dost mean to say, he exclaimed, as ye, havena booked your berth? One just seems stale. There's one from Glasgow next Saturday, said she the Saskatchewan. I secured the berth, but I didn't pay for it. It's a rare lot of money, he observed. Oh, she said, I didn't want all that for the fare. I've other things to pay for railway to Glasgow, et cetera. He will lend it me,

won't you. Her fingers were already in the cash box. She was behaving just like a little girl, like a spoilt child. It was remarkable, he considered, how old and mature heading could be when she chose, and how kittenish when she chose. She went off with four five pound notes and five sovereigns. Will you ask me to come back and cut the dinner? She smiled ironically, enchantingly. Aye, he said he was bound to smile also. She returned in something over two hours. There you are, she

said, putting a blue green paper into his hand. Never seen one of those before. It was the ticket for the steamer. This staggered him. A sensible, determined woman who disappears to buy a steamer ticket may be expected to reappear with a steamer ticket, And yet it staggered him. He could scarcely believe it. She was going, then she was going. It was inevitable. Now the boat leaves the clade at ten in the morning, she said, resuming possession of the paper. So we must go to Lasko on

Friday and stop the night at an hotel. We he murmured, aghast, Well, she said, you surely won't let me travel to Laska all alone. Will Yer. There's a caution, mars, He privately reflected. You can come back on Saturday, she said, so that you'll be in time to collect your rents. There's an express at Lasko from Crew at one fifteen, and to catch that. We mistake the twelve twenty at Shawport. She

had settled every detail. And what about my dinner, he inquired. I'm going to set about it, instantly laughed she, I mean my dinner on Friday. He said, oh that. She replied, there's a restaurant car from Crew, so we can lunch on the train. This idea of accompanying her to Glasgow pleased him intensely. Lasgar isn't much in my line, he said, But you wenches do as you like, seemingly. Thus, on the Friday morning he met her down at Showport station. He was in his

best clothes, but he had walked. She arrived in a cab that carried a pagoda of trunks on its fragile roof. She had come straight from her lodgings. There was a quarter of an hour before train time. He paid for the cab. He also bought one second class single and one second class return to Glasgow, while she followed the porter who trundled her luggage when he came out of the booky office minus several gold pieces. She was purchasing papers

at the book stall, and farther up the platform. The porter had seized a pastebrush and was only a cupboard of left. An extraordinary scheme presented itself to James olor Shaw's mind, and he trotted up to the porter. I've seen to the baggage myself, said Helen without looking at him. All right, he said, The porter touched his cap lever that luggage for crew. He whispered to the porter and passed straight on, as if taking exercise on

the platform. Here, sir, said the porter. When he got back to Helen, of course he had to make conversation with a nonsenant air in order to hide his guilty feelings. So none of'em has come to see you off, he observed, none of whom, none of your friends. No fear, she said, I wouldn't have it for anything. I do hate and loathe good byes at a railway station. Don't you never add any?

He said? The train was prompt, but for Cleen short ported crew, it suffered delays, so there was not an inordinate amount of time to spare of the majestic junction. Heedless fly away creature that she was had in scurry from the North Stafford platform to the main line platform without a thought as to her luggage. She was apparently so preoccupied with her hand bag, which contained her purse, that she had no anxiety left over for her heavy belongings.

As they hastened forward, he saw the luggage being tumbled out onto the platform. The Glasgow train rolled grandiosely in, and the restaurant car came to a standstill almost exactly opposite the end of the North Stafford platform. They obtained two seats with difficulty. Then, as there was five minutes to wait, Jimmy descended from the car to the asphalt and peeped down the North Stafford platform. Yes, her luggage was lying there, deserted in a pile. He

regained the carriage. I suppose the luggage will be all right, Hendin said calmly, just as the guard whistled. Aye said he with the mien of a traveler of vast experience. I saw a bringing all the honest luggage over. It were the first thing I thought of as a liar, he reckoned. He was pretty good. He glanced from the window as the train slid away from crew, and out of the turn of his eye in the distance, over the heads of people, he had a momentary glimpse of the topmost

of headens drugs. Safely at rest on the North Stafford platform, he felt safe. He felt strangely joyous. He had largely and made very dry, humorous remarks about the novelty of a restaurant on wheels. Bless us, he said, as the express flashed through Preston without stopping as first time as up weregune a bottle of bass in one town, and finished it in another. He grew positively jolly, and the journey seemed to be accomplished with the rapidity

of a dream. End of chapter eighteen. Chapter nineteen off heading with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Simon Evers, Chapter nineteen. The tossing You said you'd seen it into the van, putted Helen, She who never putted nay las. He creted her. I said I had seen him bring in all the ruggage over. The inevitable moment of reckoning had arrived. They stood together on the platform of

Saint Knox's, Glasgow. The last piece of luggage was being removed from the guard's van under the direction of passengers, and there was no sign whatever of Helen's trunks. This absence of Headn's trunks did not in the least surprise James Ollernshaw. He was perfectly aware that Hellllen's trunks reposed at that self, say an instant in the lost luggage office at Crewe. But of course he had

to act surprise. In case of necessity he could act very well. It was more difficult for him to act sorrow than to act surprise, but he did both to his own satisfaction. He climbed into the van and scanned its corners in vain. Then side by side they visited the other van at the head of the train with an equal result. The two guards, being Scotch responded to inquiries with extreme caution. All that they would answer for was that

the trunks were not in the train. Then the train was drawn out of the station by a toy engine and the express engine followed it with grave dignity, and Helen and Jimmy were left staring at the empty rails. Something must be done, said Helen Crossly. Aye, Jimmy agreed, long pass my tea time. We must find out if the Zenny to eat in Scotland.

But Henlen insisted on visiting the station master. Now, the station master at Zenox is one of the most important personages north of the Tweed and not easily to be seen. However Henlen saw him. He pointed out that the train came from London in two portions which were divided into Scotland, one going to Edinburgh, and his suggestion was that conceivably the luggage might be put into the

Edinburgh van a mistake for the Glasgow van. Such airs did occur sometimes, he said, implying that the Northwestern was an English railway and the surprising things happened in England. He said also that Helen might telephone to Edinburgh and inquire. She endeavored to act on this council, but came out of the telephone cabin saying that she could not get into communication with Edinburgh. Better go over

to Edinburgh and see for yourself, said Jimmy, tranquility. Yess what about my steamer hen in turn on him, Scotland canna be so big as all that, said Jimmy. Not. According to the maps, us could run over to Edinburgh to night and get back to Glasgow early to morrow. She consented, just as he was taking two second returns to Edinburgh, then snatched rail eggs and railway tea. While waiting for a fast train. He stopped and said, unless ye prefer to sail without your trunks, and I could

send'em on by the next steamer. Uncle. She protested, I do wish you were miss so silly the idea of me sailing without my trunks. Why don't you ask me to sail without me head? All right, all right, he responded, but don't snap mine off. Two second returns to Edinburgh, young man, and I'll thank you to look slippy over it in the Edinburgh train he could scarcely refrain from laughing, and then in too, seemed more in a humor to accept the disappearance of five invaluable trunks full of

preciosities. As a facetious sally on that part of destiny. He drew out a note book which he always carried, and did mathematical calculations. That makes twenty seven boons eighteen and ninepence as you or me, he remarked, what for railway tickets? Railway tickets tips, and that twenty five pounds I lent ye. I'm making you a present of my affairs and dinner and tea and so forth. Twenty five pounds that you lent me. She murmured, yes, he said, Tuesday morning, while I was at my crush box.

Oh that she ejaculated. I thought you were giving me that. I never thought you asked before it again, Uncle, I completely forgotten all about it. She seemed quite sincere in this amazing assertion. His acquaintance with the ways of women were thus enlarged suddenly, and at the merely nominal expense of twenty five pounds. It was a wondrous proof of his high spirits in his general contentedness with himself that he should have submitted to the robbery without a groan.

What twenty five pun He reflected, there was no luggage for it at Edinburgh. That steamer will go without her, and then I shall give in. I'll have talked to her about the ways of providence and tell her it's borne in upon me, as she must have wilbrahm all. If she's a mini

mine to stay, I'll have saved my face anyhow. And he further decided that in case of necessity, in case of head, and at a later stage, pushing her inquiries as to the luggage inconveniently far, he would have to bribe the porter at Shoreport to admit to her that he the porter, had made a mistake in the labeling. When they had satisfied themselves that Edinburgh

did not contain Heaven's drunks, no mean labor for the lost luggage. Office was closed and they had to move mountains in order to get it opened. On the plea of extremeist urgency, Jimmy olleran Shaw turned to Susan's saying to himself that she must be soothed, regardless of cost. Miracles were not unable to catch the steamer now, and the hour was fast as approaching when he would evidently offer her the gift of Wilbraham Hall we alas he began, I'm

right, sorry, what's to be done? There's nothing at all to be done, she replied, smiling. Sadly. She might have upbraded him for carelessness in the matter of the luggage. She might have burst into tears and declared passionately that it was all his fault. But she did not, except, of course, Sam's cable to mother. She's coming to Cobeck to meet me. Ah, that'll do to morrow, he said. What's to be done to night? In the way of supper? As ye might say,

we must go to an hotel. I believe the station hotel is the best. She pointed to a sign and a directing black hand which said to the hotel in a minute, James Orangehaw found himself in the largest and most gorgeous hotel in Scotland. Look here, wench, he said, I don't know as this is much in my line, so much a thought less gordy'll do for my old barns. I won't move a step farther this night, hed

In declared, I'm ready to drop. He remembered that she must besthothed well, he said, here goes, and he strode across the tesselated pavement under the cold, scrutinizing eye of menials, to a large window marked in gold Nutter's bureau. Have you gotten a couple of bedrooms like? He asked the clerk? Yes, sir, said the clerk, who was a perfect lady. What do you want? Don't I tell? Easy? Want a couple

of bedrooms? Miss of the negotiation? She pushed across the counter to him two disks of cardboard, numbling three two four and three two six each marked six shillings and sixpence. He regarded the price as fantastic, but no cheaper rooms were to be had, and Helen's glance was dangerous. Why, he muttered, I've got a four armed cottage empt yet ternil as I'd left for a month for thirteen innings and paper it. Where is your luggage, sir,

asked a muscular demon with shiny sleeves. That's just what we want to know, young fellow, said Jimmy. For the present, that's all as we can lay our hands on, and indicated Helen Satchel. His experiences in the lift were exciting, and he suggested the laying of a tramway along the

corridor of the fourth floor. The beautiful starched creature who bought in his hot water without being asked, found him in the dark, struggling with the electric light, which he had distinguished from curiosity had not been able to rekindle, having lost the location of the switch. At ten thirty, the travelers were seated at her table in the immense dining room, which was populated by fifteen

waiters of various European nationalities and six belated guests, including themselves. The one item on the many which did not exceed his comprehension was Welsh rarebit, and he ordered it. It was while they were waiting in anticipation of this dish that he decided to commence operations upon Helen. The fact was he's becoming very anxious to put affairs on a definite footing. Well, my girl, he said, cheer up. If you tain't my advice, you make up your

mind to stop in old England with your old uncle. Of course I will, she answered softly, and added, if you'll do as I want, buy that barracks. She nodded. He was on the very point of yielding. He was on the very point of saying, with grandfather, any godlike tone of utter beneficence, alas you shall have it. I wouldn't have given it to you. But it's like as if what must be this luggage being

lost, It's like as if providence was in it. He was on the very point of this decisive pronouncement when a novel and dazzling idea flashed into his head. Listen hear, he said, bending across the table towards her. I'll toss thee. Toss me, she exclaimed, startled, Aye, I'll toss thee if they'll stay heads are by the barrack tails and aunt and you live with me in an house very well, she lightly. He not ready expected her to agree to such a scheme, but then young women named Helen

can be trusted absolutely. To falsify expectation, he took sixpence from his pocket. Heads are when, eh, he said? She acquiesced, and up went the sixpence. He rolled off the table on to the turkey carpet. Jimmy was not so adroit as he had been in his tossing days, and seven Australians, Germans and Swiss sprang forward towards it, with a simultaneous impasse to restore it to its owner. Jimmy jumped to his feet. Don't touch it, he cried, and bent over it. Nay, nay, he

muttered, I've lost. The old man's lost after all, and he returned to the table, having made a sensation in the room. Helen was in paradise. I'm surprised you are ready to toss, uncle, said she. Ah, it's all right, we can get the luggage to morrow. It's a crue. I dusn't know. It's a crewe, he demanded, because I had it la for crew. He worse in it to imagine that I was going to leave you. But I thought I'd just leave nothing undone to

make you give way. I made sure I was beaten. I made sure I should have to knock alunder, and now you are a goose enough to toss, and you've lost. You've lost. Rah. She clapped her hands softly. Do you mean to tell me, Jimmy thundered, as you've been playing a game with me all this time. Of course, she had no shame. I bought the steamer ticket without meaning to. Well, she said, no half playing when you're playing for high stakes. Besides, what's fifteen

pounds. He did not let her into the secret that he also had order the luggage to be labeled for crew. They returned to the Five Towns the following morning by mutual tacitic agreement. They never spoke of that excursion to Scotland. In such manner came Helen Rathbone to be the mistress of Wilbraham Hall, end of chapter nineteen, Chapter twenty of Helen with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Simon Evers,

Chapter twenty. The flitting before the spacious Crimson facade of Wilbraham Hall, upon an autumn day stood mister Crump's pantechnicon. That is to say, it was a pantechnicon only by courtesy mister Crump's courtesy in strict adherence to truth, it was just a common furniture removing van dragged over the Earth's service by two horses. On the outer wall of it was an announcement that mister Crump removed goods by road, rail or steamer, and vast colored pictures of mister Crump

removing goods by road, rail and steamer. Once saw the van in situations of grave danger, traveling on an express train over a lofty vadact at sixty miles an hour, all rolling on the deck of a steamer in a stormy sea. On saw it also in situations of impressive natural beauty, as for instance, since passing by road through terrific mountain defiles were cataracts, rushed and foamed. The historic fact was that the van had never been beyond the five

towns. Nevertheless, mister Crump bound himself in painted letters six inches high to furnish estimates for any removal whatsoever, and what is more, as a special boon to the five towns, to furnish estimates free of charge. In this detail, mister Crumper determined not to lag behind his fellow furniture removers who one and all persist in refusing to accept even a small fee for telling you how

much they demand for their services. In the van where the entire worldly possessions of James Orangshaw except his houses, his investments, a set of bowls up at the bowling club, and the clothes he wore, And the entire worldly possessions of head in Rathbone except the toes she wore. If it be asked, where was the twenty six pounds so generously given to her by a loving

uncle? The reply is that the whole sum, together with much else, was in the coffers of Ezra Brunt, the draper and costumier at Hambridge and the Rery. Further is that Helen was in debt. I have hitherto concealed Headn's tendency to debts, but it was bound sooner or later to come out.

And here it is, after adventuress journey by bridge over the North Staffordshire Railway, and by bridge over the Shropshire Union Canal, and by bridge over the foaming cataract of the Show's Brook, and down the fearful slants of Oldcastle Street, and through the arduous, terrific denies of Oldcastle Road. The van

had arrived at the portals of Wilbraham Hall. It would have been easy, by opening wide the portals, to have introduced the van and the horses too, into the hall of Wilbraham Hall, but this course was not adopted. Helen and Georgiana had preceded the van, and they both stood at the door to receive the goods. Georgiana was in one of Georgiana's aprons, and Helen also was in one of Georgiana's aprons. Uncle James had followed the van,

he had not let it out of his sight. The old man's attachment to even the least of his goods was touching, and his attachment to the greatest of his goods carried Pathos into farce. The greatest of his goods was apparently the full rigged ship and to pestuous ocean. In a glass box which had stood on the table in the front room of the other house for many years. No one had suspected his esteem for that glass box in its contents.

He had not suspected it himself until the moment for packing it had come. But he seemed to love it more than his bits of spowed china or his concertina, and taking it with him. He quitted with a softened regret the quantity of overblown blue roses, which, in their eternal bloom, had enlivensed

his existence during a longer period even than the ship and ocean. The chip and ocean was the last thing put into the van and the first thing taken out, and James Orangehaw introduced the affair, hugged against his own breast, into the house of his descendants. The remainder of the work of transference was relatively unimportant. Two men accomplished it easily while the horses at a li dinner.

And then the horses and the van and the men went off, and there was nothing left but a few wisps of straw and so forth on the magnificent sweep of gravel to indicate that they had ever been there. And Uncle James and Helen and Georgiana felt rather forlorn and abandoned. They stood in the hall and looked at each other a little blankly, like gypsies camping out in

an abandoned cathedral. An immense fire was burning in the immense fireplace of the hall, and similar fires were burning in the state bedroom, in a little drawing room beyond the main drawing room, in another bedroom, in the giant's kitchen, and in one of the attics. These fires, and a certain amount of cleaning were the any preparations which Helen Her permitted herself to make.

Even the expense of the coal had startled James, and she proposed to get him safely in the cage before commencing the serious business which would shatter all his nerves. By a miracle of charm and audacity, she had obtained from him

the control of a sum of seven hundred and fifty pounds. This sum, now lying nominally to her credit at one of James's various banks, represented the difference between eight thousand pounds at which James had sad Wilbraham Hall would be cheap, and seven two hundred and fifty pounds at which James had succeeded in buying Wilbraham Hall. To the left of the hall, near the entrance was quite a small room, originally perhaps a butler's lair, and James was obstinate in

selecting this room as his office. He had his desk carried there, and everything that personally affected him except his safe and the simple necessaries of his bedroom. These were taken not to the state bedroom, which he had declined after insincy a pressure from Helen to accept it, but to a much smaller sleeping chamber. The numerous family of windsor chairs, together with other ancient honorses, were sent up to the attic too old. At forty, Georgiana was established

in a glorious attic. The state bedroom was strewn with Helen's gear, and scarcely anything remained unniched in the hall save the ship and ocean. They all rested from their labors, and Helen was moved by one for happiest inspirations, Georgiana. She said, go make some tea, bring a cup for yourself. Yes, miss, thank you. Miss. On removal days, miserable

distinctions of class are invariably lost in the large heartedness of mutual endeavor. It was while the trio were thus drinking tea together, standing, and as it were, with Loin still girt after the pilgrimage, that the first visitor to the new owners of Wilbromham Hall rang its great bell and involved Georgiana in her first ceremonial duty. Georgiana was quite nervous as she went to the door.

The corner was Immanuel Proctor. Mother thought, I might perhaps be able to help you, said he in the slightly simpering tone which he adopted in delicate situations, and which he thought suited him. What made the situation delicate to him was Helen's apron Quite agreeable though the apron was, he felt, with his unerring perceptiveness, that young ladies do not care to receive young gentlemen in

the apron of a Georgiana. His own attire was, as usual, fabulously correct, the salient features of it being a pair of light yellow shammied gloves, loose fitting and unbuttoned, with the gauntlets negligently turned back. These loves were his method for expressing the fact that the visit was a visit of usefulness and not a kid love visit. But Henn seemed quite composed behind Georgiana's apron. Yes, he repeated, with smiling inanity after his shaken hands. Mother

thought, I might help you. What a fool that woman is, reflected James. And what a fool he is to put on to his mother instead of keeping it to himself. And what did you think, mister proctor Hennin demanded another cup and saucer. Georgiana Hellllen's question was one of her insolent questions. Perhaps his mother ain't touch a full reflected James, and he perceived, or imagined, he perceived that their years of Helen marrying Emmanuel were absurd.

Emmanuel sniffed humor in the air. He never understood humor, but he was at any rate sufficiently gifted with the wisdom of the simple to smile vaguely and amiably when he sniffed humor. And then Helen said, with cordial kindness, it's awfully good of you, awfully good of you here me, are you see? And the degree of cordiality was such that the fear of her marrying Emmanuel suddenly seemed less absurd to James. The truth was that James never had

a moment's peace of mind with Helen. She was continually proving that, as a student in the University of Human Nature, he had not even matriculated. Georgiana appeared with an odd cup and saucer and a giggling statement that she had not been able to discover any more teaspoons. Never mind, said Helen, as the proctusial of mine. Well, I'm hanged, reflected James, whereupon Georgiana departed, bearing her own tea, into the garret's kitchen. There miserable

distinctions of class had been mysteriously established. End of chapter twenty Chapter twenty one of Helen with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Simon EVAs Chapter twenty one, Ship and Ocean. The hosts, the hostess, and the guest all remained on their feet in the noble hold of the wilberhomes, it not being good etiquette to sit at removals, even when company calls. Emmanuel, fortunately for him, was a

debt of perambulation. With a full cup of tea in one hand and a hat or so in the other. There were two things which he really could do. One was to sing a sentimental song without laughing, and the other was to balance a cup of tea. And it was any mean he was doing the one or the other that he genuinely lived. During the remainder of his existence, he was merely a vegetable inside a waistcoat. He held his cup without a tremor while Helene charmingly introduced into it her teaspoon and stirred up

the sugar. Then, after he had sipped and pronounced the result excellent, he began to mar the hall and the contents of the hall. A proof of his real Christian charity was that, whereas he meant to have that hall for himself, he breathed no word of envy nor discontent. He praised everything, And presently he arrived at the ship and ocean and praised that. He

particularly praised the waves. The heart of James instantly and instinctively softened towards him, for the realism of those foaming waves had always struck James as the final miracle of art. And moreover, this was the first time that any of Helen's haughty set had ever deigned to recognize the merits of the ship and Ocean? Where should hang it? Master Proctor James genially asked, hang it? Uncle, exclaimed Helen, are you going to hang it? Aren't you going

to keep it on table in your own room? She was hoping that it might not get a position not too prominent, But it did not intend it to be the central decorative attraction of the palace. It ought to be hung, said Emmanuel. See here the little arm things for the nails. This gift of observation pleased James. Amanda was indeed beginning to show quite an intelligent interest in the shiper notion. Of course it must be hang, said he.

He was very human, was Jimmy Ollerinshaw. For at least twenty five years he possessed the ship of Nocean and cherished it, always meaning one day to hang it against the wall as it deserved. And yet he had never arrived at doing so, though the firm resolution to do so had not a whit weakened in his mind. And now he was absolutely decided, with the whole force of his will behind it, to hang the ship and ocean at once. There or to the musicians, gullery wouldn't be a bad place,

would it, mister Ollerenshaw, Amander suggested, respectfully. James trained his eye on the spot the very thing, lud said he, withinenthusiasm. Lad Henad had not recovered from a private of extreme astonishment of this singular mark of paternal familiarity to Emmanuel. When there was another, and a far louder ring at the door, Georgiana minced and tripped out of her retreat and opened the Majestic portal to a still greater surprise for Helen. The ringer was mister Andrew Dene.

Mister Andrew Dene, with his dark, quasy, hostile eyes, and his heavy shoulders and his defiant, suspicious bearing, mister Andrew Dene in workday clothes and with hands that could not be called clean. Andrew stared about him like a scout, and then advanced rapidly to Helen and seized her hand, hurting it. I was just passing, said he in a hoarse voice. I expect you'd be in a bit of a mess, or thought I might be useful. How'd you do, mister olland Shaw? And he hurt James's

hand. Also, it's very kind of you, Henlen remarked, flushing, I'll do proctor. Andrew jerked out at Emmanuel not taking his hand. Gibbs. When John Andrew's part from physical violence was capable of two interpretations. The natural interpretation was that Andrew's social methods were notoriously casual and capricious. The interesting interpretation was that a failure of the negotiations between Emmanuel and Andrew for a partnership

a failure, which had puzzled bursely, had left rancor behind it. Emmanuel, however, displayed no symptom of being disturbed. His blandness remained intact. Nevertheless, the atmosphere was mysteriously electric. Helen felt it to be so, and an atmosphere which is deemed to be electric by even one person only if

so facto is electric. As for James Olleranshaw, he was certainly astonished by the visit of Andrew Dean, but being absorbed in the welfare of his ship and ocean, he permitted his astonishment to dissolve in a vague satisfaction that, anyhow, Helen's unexplained quarrel with Andrew Deane was really at an end. This score was assuredly Andrew's way of expiatory repentance, the very thing he repeated, glancing at Emmanuel as if in expectation. A man who did not seem to

comprehend that aught was expected of him. He aimiably stood with hands still appropriately gloved, and his kindly glance wandered between the ship and ocean and the spot which he hit on for the ship and ocean's last resting place, Where's the

steps? Ellen James inquired, and after a brief silence Georgiana he yelled, the girl flew in, Bring us a pair of steps, said he, following an unsuccessful search for the pair of steps which Andrew deine Ultimate had discovered in a corner of the hall itself, lying flat behind a vast roll of carpet, which was included in the goods purchase for seven thousand, two hundred

and fifty pounds. The steps being found, Georgiana explained at length how she distinctly remembered seeing one of the men put them behind the roll of carpet. Now what is it? Andwed vidocuously questioned. He was prepared, evidently to do anything that a man may do with a pair of steps. When the operation was indicated to him, his first act was to take off his coat,

which he threw on the floor. Hammer nails, he ejaculated, and Georgiana, intimidated by his tone, contrived to find both hammer and nails. It is true that the hammer is a coal hammer, and in a remarkably short space of time he was balanced on the summit of the steps with a nail in one hand, a hammer in the other, a pencil behind his

ear, and another nail in his mouth. The other three encircled him from below with upturned faces and open mouths, like young birds expecting food, not that young birds expecting food were gloves so appropriate to the occasion as were emmanuels. James Oranghaw was impressed by the workwind like manner in which Andrew measured the width of the last box and marked it off on the wall before beginning to

knock nails. The presence of one nail in Andrew's mouth while he was knocking in the other with a coal hammer prevented him from outraging the social code when the coal hammer embraced his fingers as well as the nail in the field of his activity. Unhappily, when it came to the second nail, no such hindrance operated. The nails, having been knocked in, were duly and satisfactorily

tested. Then solemnly James seized the glass box containing the ship and ocean, and bore it with all possible precautions to the pair of steps in front of the great doors. Andrew descended two stories, and bending his body, received the box from James as a parson receives a baby. At the font. He then remounted the steps rocked. Id' i'm better hold them, said James. It'll be all right, said Dniel. I'll hold them, said O'maniel,

hastening forward. The precise cause of the accident will probably never be known. But no sooner did Emmanue lay his gloved hand on the steps than the whole edifice, consisting of steps Andrew and ship and ocean tottered and fell clumsy fool. Andrew was distinctly heard to exclaim during his swift passage to the floor. The ship and ocean were incurably disintegrated into a mess of colored cardboard, linen and sticks, and catastrophes even more dreadful might have occurred had it not

been for the calm and wise tact of Helen. When a person is pleased by an event, that person can, usually without too much difficulty, exercise a calm and wise tact upon other persons whom the event has not pleased. And Helen was delighted by the catastrophe of the ship and ocean. The ship and ocean had formed no part in her scheme for the decoration of the hall.

Her one poor solace had been that the proportions of the Hall and of the ship and ocean were such that even a careful observer might have spent hours in the former without discovering the latter. On the other hand, some blundering ninny might have lighted instantly on the ship and ocean, and or could reinquired what it was doing there. So Helen was really enchanted by the ruin.

She handled her men with notable finesse, Uncle James savage and vindictive, but uncertain upon whom to pour out his anger, Emmanuel nursing his injured innocence, and Andrew Dene nursing his elbow, his head and vengeance. She also found a moment in which to calm Georgiana, who had run, flying an hysterical into the hall at the sound of the smash. Even the steps were broken. After a time, harmony was established, both Uncle James and Emmanuel being

at bottom men of peace. But it was undeniable that Uncle James had lost more than gold, and that Emmanuel had been touched in a perilous place his conceit of himself. Then Georgiana swept up the ship and ocean, and James retired to his own little room, where he assumed his Turkish cap and began to arrange his personal effects in a manner definite and final, which would be

a law for ever to the servants at Wilbraham Hall. Left with the two young men, Helen went from triumph to triumph in quite a few minutes. She had them actually talking to each other, and she ended by beating them away together, and by the time they departed, each was convinced that Georgiana's apron on Helen was one of the most bewitching manifestations of the inexpressibly feminine that

he had ever been privileged to see. They took themselves off by a door at the farther end of the hall, behind the stairs, whence there was a short cut through the underating grounds to the main road. Helen ascended to

the state bedroom, where there was simply everything to be done. Georgiana followed her, after having made up the files, and while helping to unpack boxes, offered gossamer hints, fluffy, scarcely palpable elusive things to her mistress that her real ambition had always been to be a lady's maid and to be served at meals by the third or possibly the fourth housemaid, and the hall of

Olberman Hall was abandoned for a space to silence and solitude. Now, the window of Uncle Jane's little room was a little window that lived modestly between the double pillars of the portico and the first window of the great dining room.

Resting from his labors of sorting and placing, he gazed forth at his domain and mechanically calculated what profit would accrue to him if he cut off a slip a hundred and fifty feet deep along by the Oak Castle Road and sold it in lots for villas, or built fillers and sold them on ninety nine year

leases. He was engaged in his happy exercise of mental arithmetic when he heard footsteps crunching the gravel, and then a figure, which had evidently come round by the north side from the back of the hall, passed across the field of James's vision. This figure was a walking baptism to the ground. It trod, it dripped water plenteously. It was, in a word, soaked, and its garments clung to it. Its yellow shamid gloves clung to its hands. It had no hat. It hesitated in front of the entrance.

Uncle James pushed up his window. What's a mislud, he inquired, with a certain blandness of satisfaction. I've fed into the water, said Emmanuel feebly, meaning the sheet known as Wilbraham Water, which diversified the park like splendors of Wilbrahmore Hall. I des minded that the path is very moody and slipperdge just there, said Emmanuel. I'd do better room home as quick as may

be. James suggested I can't, said Emmanuel, why not. I've want no hat, and I'm all wet, and everybody an old castle row will see me. Can you lend me a hatton court? And all the while he was tenderly baptizing at the gravel, Uncle James's head disappeared for a moment, and then he threw out of the windows stiff yellow mackintosh of great age. It was his rent collecting mackintosh. It had the excellent quality of matching the Chamois glaves. Emmanuel thankfully took it. And what about a cap or

something? He plaintively asked. Dain't this, said Uncle James with remarkable generosity, whipping the Turkish cap from his own head and handing it to Emmanuel. Emmanuel hesitated, then accepted, and thus uniquely attired, sped away, still baptizing at tea tea proper. James recounted this episode to a somewhat taciturn and preoccupied headn. He didn't fall into the water, said Hennn Curtly, and Droudine pushed him in. I dost know that, Georgiana, and I saw

it from my bedroom window. It was she who first saw them fighting or any rate arguing. Then Andrew Deine charged him in as if they were playing football and walked on, and a man who propped her scrambled out, oh, reflected James. While if you asked me lass a man who brought that on him? Then I never seen a man look a bigger fool than a Manua looked when he went off him in Macintosh and Turkish cap you Turkish cap one of em with the tassel ay. It's a great shame, that's what

it is. I'm sure he didn't look a fool. He's been very badly treated, and i'll she rose from the table in sudden and speechless indignation. You should see him, luss, said James, and added, I wish she had. He tried to be calm, but she had sprung on him. Another of her disconcerting surprises, was it, after all possible conceivable that she was in love with Emmanuel? She sat down again. I know why you say that, uncle. She looked him in the face and put her

elbows on the table. Now just listen to me. Highly perturbed, he wondered what was coming next. End of chapter twenty one. Chapter twenty two of Helen with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Simon Evers. Chapter twenty two, confessional, what's the matter with Emanuel Proctor? Helen asked, meaning what were the implied faults

of Emmanuel Proctor? There was defiance in her tone. She had risen from the table, and she sat down again, And she seemed, by her pose to indicate that she had sat down again with a definite purpose. Her purpose to do grievous harm to the soul's peace of anybody who differed from the statements which she was about to enunciate, or who gave the wrong sort of

answers to her catechism. She was wearing her black mussoline dress, theoretically done with which in its younger days, always had the effect of rising the grand arm in her. She laid her ringler's hands lightly clasped on a small, heavy, round mahogany table which stood in the middle of the little drawing room, and she looked over James's shoulder into the vistas of the great drawing room.

The somber, fading magnificence of the Wilbrahms, a magnificence of dark woods, tassel, curtains, reps and guilt was her theater, and the theater suited her mood still. Jimmy Ollerenshaw, somewhat embittered by the catastrophe of the afternoon, conceived that he was not going to be browbeaten. What's the matter with the Manya Proctor said, he is, as he's probably gotten a cold by this. Yes, and you're glad? Henn retorted, you think you look a fool after he'd been in the water, and you were glad?

I dunna think, said James. I'm sure, but why should you be glad? That's what I want to know. James could not sagaciously reply to this query. He merely scratched his head tilt in one of his Turkish caps to that end. The fact is she cried with a grammatical carelessness, which was shocking in a woman who professed to teach everything. Everyone has got their knives into Immanuel Ploctor. And it's simply because he's good looking. I'm well

dressed and sings beautifully good looking, murmured James. Well, isn't he he's pretty, said James. No one ever said he had a lot of brains. I never did, James put in, But what does that matter? He is polite. He does know how to behave himself in polite society. If Andrew Dene pushed him into the water, that wasn't his fault. Andrew is stronger than he is. But that's no credit to Andrew Deane. It's to his disgrace. Andrew Deine is nothing but a bully. We all know

that he might have pushed you into the water or me. He might, James admitted, I've I've been silly enough to get between the water and him. And I should like to know who looked a fool when Andrew Dene fell off those steps. And just listen to the language the man used. I will say this, Filmanduel Proctor, I never heard him swear. No, said James. He wears loves, even wears him when he takes his bath of a November afternoon. I don't care who knows, it, said in

himself hotly. I like Himander Proctor, THEUS. Nobody has done annoy it, said James. It's the talk of Bosley's. You've set your cap at him. I don't wear caps, said Helen. I'm not a servant at Then James corrected himself. You're not deny as you wear outs. I reckon, I've seen you're in forty. I know who's started that tale? Had in exploded Andrew Dene started that tale? No, said James. It was missus Proctor. I'm thinking as Missus Proctor spoken to you about me and and

Immanuel. James hesitated, but the devil may care agreeably, vicious oleran shaw impulses were a foot in him, and he did not hesitate long aeras said he, what are ridiculous, fat old woman? She is with her fancies. Frankly, James did not like this. He was in a mind to resent it, and then a certain instinct of self preservation prompted him to seek cover in silence. But in any battle of the sexes. Silence is no cover to the male, as he ought to have known, had then pursued

him behind his cover. I wonder who she's setting her cup at. I suppose you're not denying that she wears a cup. It was quite a long time since James Honoran Shaw had blushed, but he blushed at these words. Nothing could be more foodish inept on his part. Why should he blush? Because Helen expressed a vague, hostile curiosity as to the direction of Missus Proctor's cap. What had the direction Missus Procter's cap to do with him? Yet

blush he did. He grew angry, not curiously enough with Helen, but with himself and with Missus Proctor. His anger had the strange effect of making him an arrant coward. He got up from his chair, having pushed away his cup towards the center of the table as tea was over. He was within his rights in doing so. Almost beginning to work again, he muttered, please do wait a minute, uncle, She said, imperiously, can't you see I want to talk to you. Can't you see I've got something

on my mind? Deliberately challenged in this way, the formidable James was no more than a sheep to the shearer until he met Helen. He perhaps never received deliberate, audacious challenges, and even now he was far from being accustomed to them. So he just stood foolishly near his chair. I can't talk to you while you're standing up, she said, so he sat down.

How simply it ought to have been for him to exert authority over Helen, to tell her fiercely that he had no intention of being talked to like that, and that if she persisted in such tactics, the front door was at her in tarre disposal. She had no claim on him. Yet he ate his humble pie and sat down. So they are saying that there is something between a manual plocter and me, are they? She recommenced, in a new modified voice, a voice that waved the white flag over her head.

It wouldn't surprise me to hear as they were, said James. And supposing there was something between us, Uncle, should you mind? I don't know, as I should mind, said he, And I don't know, as it a matter of brass button. If I did mind, what should you do? Uncle? I should do as I've always done? Said he? Eat and sleep and take me walks abroad. Them was once to marry, will marry, and they will marry what suits em? But I should take me meek and drink as usual. Would you come to the wedding. I've

only got a funeral suit, said he. But I'd buy me some dogs if a man had to take this place off my hands at what I gave. Would you give me a wedding present? I'll give thee some advice, it's what that most in need of. His tone was gloomy and resigned. She slipped round the table and sat on the arm of his chair. You are a horrid old thing, she told him, not for the first time. I am in need of advice, and there's no one can give it to me, but you. Nay nay, he recalled. They sell us

Weetnam, You're as thick as thieves. She is a very last person I can go to, said Helen. And why why Because Andrew's engaged to her as sister. Of course, that's the awful part of it, I he questioned, Yes, because Hee, it's Andrew Dene that I'm in love with. She said it in very pert and airy accents, and then the next moment she put James into terrible consternation by crying and touching his arm. He saw that she was serious. Light beat down upon him. He had to

blink and collect himself. If I place las, he said, I should keep that to my son. But I aunt uncle, that is, I haven't done Andrew knows, who don't understand how much I'm in love with him? Ay, he's that's not kissed him, not exactly, but he's been kissing your mistake for his other young woman Helen nodded, Hellen, what did their mother say? It was because of Andrew Dene that I came to live in Bursley, said she. I knew I shouldn't see him often enough if

I stayed in Longshore, so I came here. You know, we had always liked each other, I think ever since he spent two years at Longshore at Spitz Brothers. Then I didn't see him for some time. You know how rude and awkward he is. Well, there was a coolness, sir, and then we didn't see each other for another long time, and the man next saw him, I knew I really was in love with him.

Of course I never said anything to mother, or doesn't you know? And she was to have taken up with her own affairs, poor dear, and I thought he was really fond of me. I thought so because he was so cross and queer. He's like that, you know. And after all, it was not that that made him cross and queer. It was just because he was as good as engaged to Lilian, and he didn't like to tell me, and I never knew. How could I guess? I never

heard there was anything between him and Lilian. Besides, although he was cross and queer, he said things to me that he oughtn't to have said concerning how he was carrying on with Lillian. It was then that I settled on coming to Bersley. There was no reason why I should stay in Longshore. I saw him again in Longshore after he was engaged to Lilian, and yet he never told me. And then when I've come here, the first thing

I hear is that he's engaged to Lillian. Was that afternoon when Sarah called, do you remember uncle? He remembered. I saw mister Dean that night, and somehow I told him what I thought of him. Don't know how it began, but I did. He said he couldn't help being engaged to Lilian. He said it was one of those engagements that had gone by themselves

and you can't stop them. He wanted to stop it, but he was engaged before he knew where he was, so he says, he said he preferred me, and if he'd known so, of course I was obliged to be very angry with him. That was why I didn't speak to him at first. At Missus Proctor's least, that was partly why. The Other reason was that he had accused me of running after Emmanuel. Of all people where I have been. You know what had that got to do with Andrew?

Seeing that he was engaged to Lilian. Besides, I've been doing it on purpose, and he was so insolent, and then to crown all, Missus Blocton made me dance with him, No wonder I fainted. He's the rudest, rudest, crudest man I ever knew. She wiped her eyes, un mused, James, you'll simply kill poor Lilian, She sobbed. What's that got to do with you? If you and Emmanuel have got nothing to do with him? It isn't you as I be wong? When Lilian's murdered?

Can't you see, he mustn't marry Lilian held him, burst out, silly little thing. Oh can't you understand him? Tis miles beneath him? Is there any does understand him? James asked? I do, said she, And that's flat and I've got to marry him. And you must tell me. I wanted to tell you, and now I've told you. Don't you think I've done right in being quite open with you? Most gods are so foolish in these things, but I'm not, aren't you Glad? Uncle glad?

Another word? Said he? You must help me, she repeated, end of chapter twenty two Chapter twenty three of Helen with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Simon Evers, Chapter twenty three, Nocturnal. Many things which previously had not been plain to James Ollronshaw were plain to him that night. As in the solitude of his chosen room, he reflected upon the astonishing menu that Helen had offered him

by way of supplement to his tea. But the chief matter in his mind was the great, center, burning, blinding fact of the endless worry caused to him by his connection with the chit. He had bought Wilbraham Hall under her threat to leave him if he did not buy it. Even at Trafalgar Road, she had filled the little house with worry. And now within a dozen hours of arriving in it, she had filled Wilbraham Hall with worry, filled it to its farthest attic. If she had selected it to the residence,

she would have filled the Vatican with worry. All that James demanded was a quiet life, and she would not let him have it. He wished to respeck again in tra Fargar Road. He wished she had never met Helen and her sons Shade in the park. That is to say, he asserted to himself positively that he wished she had never met Helen, but he did not mean it. And so he was to help her to rest Andrew Dene

from Lilian Swetnam. He was to take part in a shameful conspiracy. He was to assist in ruining an innocent child's happiness, and he was deliberately to foster the raw material of a scandal in which he himself would be involved. He the strong, obstinate, self centered old man who had never till Helen's advant done anything except to suit his own convenience. The one bright spot was

that Helen had no genuine designs on emmanual proctor. As a son in law, Andrew Dene would be unbearable, but a manual proctor would have been well impossible. Andrew Dene, he mused, was at any rate a man whom you could talk to and look at without feeling sick. When he gazed at the affair from all points of view and repeated to himself the same deep moral truth, such as there was no doing now with a young woman of forty is forty about thirty nine times, and pitted himself from every quart of the

compass. He raised to go to bed. He did not expect to sleep, but the gas was not yet in order, and he had only one candle, which was nearly at its latter end. The ladies Helen and Georgiana had retired long since he left his little room, and was just setting forth on the adventure of discovering his bedchamber when a bell rang in the bolls of the house. His flesh crept. It was as if the clock struck twelve

and shook the silent tire. Then he collected his powers of memory and of induction, and recognized in the sound of the bell, the sound of the front door bell, some one must be at the front door. The singular and highly disturbing phenomena of distant clanging, of thrills, and of fresh creepings were all resolved into the simple fact that some one was at the front door. He went back into his little room. Instead of opening the front door

like a man. He opened the window of the little room and struck out the tassel of his cap. Who there, he demanded? It's I, mister laurran Acehaw, said a voice, queenly and nervous, not Missus Protter. He suggested, Yes, I reckon, you'd like to come in, he said. She admitted, the Czar with a laugh, which struck him as excessively free. He did not know whether to be glad or sorry that Helen had departed to bed. He did not even know whether to be glad

or sorry that Missus Proctor had called. But he is vivid remembered what Henn had said about caps. Naturally he had to let her in. He held the candle in his left hand as he opened the door with his right, and the tassel of his cap was over his eye. You'll think I'm in the habit of calling on you at night, said Missus Proctor, as she slid through the narrow space which James allotted to her, and she laughed again.

Where is dear Helen. She's gone to bed, missus, said James, holding high the candle and gazing at the generous vision in front of him. It wore a bonnet and a rich Paisley shawl over its flowered silk. But it's only ten o'clock, missus Proctor possessed. Yes, but she's gone

to bed. Why, Missus Procter exclaimed, changing the subject wilfully. You are all straight here, for the carpets had been unrolled and laid, and she sat down on a massive Early Victorian mahogany chair about fifteen feet from the dying fire, and began to fat herself with her hands. She was one of your women who were never cold. James, having nothing to say, said nothing, following his custom. I'm not ill pleased, said missus Potter, that Helen is out of the way. The fact is it was you

that I wanted to have a word with yo. Guess what about mister Emmanuel James has ited precisely. I had to put him to bed. He's certainly in for a very serious gold and I thrust, I fervently thrust. It may not be bronchitis. That would mean nurses, and nothing upsets the house

more than nurses. What happened, mister Olanshaw? James set the candle down on another early Victorian chair, there being no occasional table at hand, and very slowly lured himself to a sitting posture on a third I'll tell you what happened, missus, he said, putting his hands on his knees, And he told her, beginning with the loss of the ship and ocean, and ending with Helen's ever memorable words. You must help me. That's what happened,

missus, he said grimly. She punctuated his recital by several exclamations, and when he had finished, she gave rein to her sentiments. My dear mister Olshaw, she said, in the kindest manner, conceivable, how I sympathize with you, How I wish I could help you. Her sympathy was a genuine comfort to him. He did not, in that instant care a fig for Hedden's notion about the direction of caps. He was simply and humanly

eased by the sweet tones of this ample and comely dame. Besides, the idea of a woman such as missus Poctor marrying a man such as him, was, he knew, preposterous. She belonged to a little world which called him Jimmy, whereas he belonged to a little world of his own. True, he was wealthy, but she was not poor, and no amount of money, he thought, could make a bridge to join those two worlds. Nevertheless, here she was talking to him alone at ten o'clock at night,

and not for the first time either. Obviously, then there was no nonsense about her. Whatever nonsensical world she belonged to, she ran over with sympathy, Having no further fear of Helen making trouble in her own family. She had all her feelings at liberty to condone with James. The candle throwing a small hemisphere of feeble radiance in the vastness of the dim hall sat on its chair between them. I can help you, she said suddenly, after grunts

from James. I'm calling on the sweatnams the day after tomorrow. I'll tell them about about to day, and when Missus Swepton asked me for an explanation of it, I will be mysterious. If Lilian is there, Missus Sweatnam will certainly get her out of the room. Then I will just give the faintest hint that the explanation is merely jealousy between Emmanuel and Missus Dean concerning a certain young lady. I should treat it all as a joke. You can

relyw me immediately I'm gone. Lilian will hear about it. She will call with Andrew the next time she seen him, and if he wishes to be free, he may be. She smiled, the arch naughty, pleasantly malign smile of a terribly experienced danger, and she seemed positively anxious that James should have Andrew Dene for a son in law. James, in his simplicity,

was delighted. It appeared to him a Mephistophilian ingenuity. He thought how clever women were on their own ground, and what an advantage they had in their immense lack of scruple. Of course, said she, I've always said that a marriage between Andrew Dene and Lilian would be a mistake, a very serious mistake. They're quite unsuited to each other. She isn't in love with him, tis only been flattered by his attentions into drawing him on. I feel

sorry for the little thing. At a stroke, she converted a shameful conspiracy into an act of the highest virtue, and her smile changed too, became a good smile, a smile on which a man might depend. His heart went out to her, and he contemplated the smile in a pleased, beatific silence. Just then the candle, a treacherous thing, flamed up and went out. Oh, cried missus. Proctor and James had not a match. He never smoked, and without an atlas of the hall showing the location of

match boxes, he saw no hope of finding a match. The fire was as good as gone. A few cinders burnt red under the ash, showing the form of a chimneypiece, but no more. And you got a match, he asked her. No, she said dryly, I don't cut him wretches, but I can tell you I don't like being the dark at all. Her voice came to him out of nothing, had a most curious effect on his spine. Where are you, mister Laurance shaw, I'm sitting here, he replied, Well, she said, if you can't find a match,

I think you'd better lead me to the door. I certainly can't find my way there myself. Where is your hand? Then a hand touched his shoulder and burnt him. Is that you, asked the voice. Aye, he said, and he took the hand, and the hand squeezed his hand, squeezed it violently. It may be due to fear, it may be due to mere inadvertence on the part of the hand. But the hand did, with unmistakable charming violence, squeeze his hand. And he rose. What's

that night? There, questioned the voice in a whisper. Where he whispered also there Behind he turned a luminescence seemed to come from above, from the unseen heights of the magnificent double staircase. As his eyes grew accustomed to the conditions, he gradually made out the details of the staircase. You'd better go and see, the whispering voice commanded. He dropped the hand and obeyed,

creeping up the left wing of the staircase. As he faced about at the half landing, he saw Helen in an orange tinted penguin, and her hair all down her back. Holding a candle, she beckoned to him. He sent to her, who's there? She inquired coldly, Missus Proctor. He murmured, and are you sitting together in the dark? She inquired coldly. The story that the count had expired seemed feeble in the extreme, and for him the word cap was written in letters of fire on the darkness below.

He made no attempt to answer her question. End of chapter twenty three. Chapter twenty four of Helen with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Simon Evers, Chapter twenty four, Seeing a Lady Home. Those words of Helen's began a fresh chapter in the life of her great step uncle, James Orangshaw. They set him up in a feeling, or rather a whole range of feelings, which had never before

experienced. At Tea hennd had hinted at the direction of Missus Proctor's cap that nothing he could not be held responsible for the direction of Missus Proctor's cap. He could laugh at that, even though he faintly blushed. But to be called sitting in the dark with Missus Proctor after ten o'clock at night in his own house, to have the fact pointed out to him in such a peculiar, meaningful tone as Helen employed. Here was something that connected him and Missus

Proctor in a manner just as shade too serious for mayor smiling. Here was something that had not before happened to him in his career as rent collector and sage. Not that he minded, No, he did not mind. Although he had no intention whatever of disputing the possession of Missus Proctor with her stepson, he did not object to all the implication in Helen's remarkable tone. On the contrary, he was rather pleased. Why should not he sit with a

lady in the dark? Was he not as capable as any man of sitting with a lady in the dark. He was even willing that Helen should credit him, or pretend to credit him, with having pre arranged the dark. Ah. People might say what they chose, But what a dog he might have been, had he cared to be a dog. Here he was, without the slightest preliminary practice, successfully sitting with a lady in the dark at

the first attempt. And what lady not the first comer not missus bt not the mairess, but the acknowledged Queen of Bursley, the undisputed leader of all that was most distinguished in Bursley society, and no difficulty about it either.

And she had squeezed his hand. She had continued to squeeze it. She, in her rich raiment, with her fine ways and her correct accent, had squeezed the hand of Jimmy Oloranshaw, with his hard old clothes and his Turkish cap, his simple barbarisms, his lack of style, and his uncompromising dialect. Why because he was rich, No, because he was a man, because he was the best man in Bursley when you came down to essentials.

So his thoughts ran. His interest in Heaven's Heart had become quite a secondary interest, but he recalled him to a sense of his responsibility as a great step uncle of a capricious creature like her. What are you and missus Proctor talking about? She questioned him in a whisper, holding the candle towards

his face and scrutinizing it as seemed to him inimogately. Well, he said, if you must know about you, and that there Andrew Dene, She made a brusque movement, and then she beckoned him to follow her along the corridor, out a possible earshot of Missus Proctor. Do you mean to say, uncle, she demanded, putting the candle down on a small table that stood under a large oil painting of Joshua and the Sun in the corridor,

that you've been discussing my affairs with missus Proctor. He saw instantly that he had not been the sage he imagined himself to be. But he was not going to be bullied by Helen or any other woman younger than Missus Proctor, so he stiffly brazened it out. Aye, he said, I never heard of such a thing, she explaided, but still whispering. You sit as

I must help ye, and I'm helping ye, said he. But it didn't mean that you were to you all chattering about me all over Pursly, Uncle, she protested, adopting now the pained, haughty and over polite attitude. I don't know, as I've been chattering all over Bursley, he rebutted her. I don't know, as I've much of a chatterer. I might name them as could give me a start and a beat him when it comes

to talking the nose off a brass monkey. Missus Proctor came in to inquire about what had happened here this afternoon as well she might, seeing his Amanda went home with a couple of gallons of my water and his pockets. So I told her all about it. He's a very friendly woman and has promised to do what he can for ye. How why to get Andrew Dene for ye? Seeing hey are so fixed on him with a little gossip as may be. Oh so Missus Proctor has kind of consented to get Andrew Dene for

me? And how did ye mean to do it? James had no alternative. He was obliged to relate how Missus Procter meant to do it? Now, Uncle said, Helen, just listen to me. If Missus Procter says a single word about me to any one, I will never speak either to her or you again, mind a single word. And I seen that she should go up to Swetnam's and hint that Andrew and Emmanu had been fighting because of me? What about my reputation? And do you suppose that I want

the leavings of Lilian's Swetnam me the idea is preposterous. He wanted them badly enough this afternoon, said he. No, I didn't. She contradicted him passionately. You're quite mistaken. You misunderstood me. I'm surprised that you should have done. Perhaps I was a little excited this afternoon. Certainly you were thinking about other things. I expect you were expecting Missus Pottter this evening. It would be nice of you to have told me she was coming. Now,

please let it be clearly understood. She swept on. You must go down and tell Missus Potrat at once that you are entirely in error, and that she is on no account to beathe a word about me to any one. Whatever you were both thinking of, I cannot imagine, but I can assure you I'm extremely annoyed. Missus Proctor put her finger in the pie. Let her take care that I don't put my finger into her. I always knew she was a gossiping old thing, but really, mister hornor in Shaw,

a prettily plaintive voice rose from the black depths below there. She's getting impatient for you, Henden snapped off to her at once. To think that if I hadn't happened to hear the bell ring and come out to see what was the matter. I had been the talk of Bursty before I was a day older. She picked up the candle. I must have a light, said James, somewhat lamely. Why, Henden asked calmly. If you could

begin in the dark, why can't you finish in the dark? You and she seemed to be light being in the dark, mister Hornor and Shaw. The voice was a little nearer. ER's come in. James ejaculated. Henning seemed to lose her courage before that threat. Here take this one, then, said she, giving James her candle and fleeing down the corridor. James had the sensation of transacting a part in a play at a theater where the

scenery was absolutely realistic and at the same time of a romantic quality. Moonnight streaming through the windows of the interminable corridor was alone, wanting to render the illusion perfect. It was certainly astonishing what you could buy with seven thousand, two hundred and fifty pounds. Perhaps the most striking portion of the scenery was Helen's pennoir. He had not before witnessed turner pennoir the effect of it was

agreeable, but indeed the modern taste for luxury was incredible. He wondered if Missus Proctor practiced similar extravagances. While such notions ran through his head, he was hurrying to the stairs and dropping a hail of candle grease on the floor. He found Missus Proctor slowly and cautiously ascending the stairway. If he was at the summit of mont Blanc. She had already reached Le Grand Moulais. What is it, she asked, pausing and looking up at him with an

appealing gesture. What's what? Why have you been so long? It was if she implied that these minutes without him were an eternity of anuis. He grew more and more conceited. He was already despising Don Juan as a pewling boy had an hurnswoment, And so she had come out of her bedroom. There's nervous in this big house. Did you turn her eye? Was here, mister Oliveron saw by this time he rejoined her at de Gromboule. No, he said, without sufficiently reflecting. She didn't hear me call out?

Then? Did you call out? If he was in a theater he also could act. Perhaps it's just as well, said Missus Proctor, after a momentary meditation, under the circumstances, she cannot possibly suspect our little plot, fair little plot. In yielding to the impulse to tell her that Helen was unaware of her presence in the house, he forgotten that he made it excessively

difficult for him to demolish the said plot. He could not one moment agree with enthusiasm to the plot, and the next moment say that the plot had better be abandoned. Some men doubtless could, but he could not. He was scarcely that time of man. His proper course would have been to relate to Missus Proctor exactly what had passed, put in himself off and Helen and

trust to her common sense. Unhappily with intention of pleasing her or reassuring her, or something equally silly, he had lied to her and rendered the truth impracticable. However, he did not seem to care much. He had already

pushed Headn's affairs back again to quite a secondary position. I suppose you think it'll be all right, missus, he said, carelessly, Ye, going up to missus wepland's or that n rely on me, said she silence sing Then without a pang, he left Helen to her fate, then touched the ground floor. Thank you very much, mister land Shaw said missus Potter, good night. I'll make the best of my way home. Curious how sorry

he felt at this announcement. He had become quite accustomed to being a conspirator with her in the vast house lighted by a single candle, and he did not relish the end of the performance. I'll step along, wi ye, said he. Oh no, she said, I really can't allow allah. What allow you to inconvenience yourself like that? For me? Pull said he, And he, who had never in his life seen a lady to her door, set out on the business as though he had done nothing else every

night of his life. As it was an enterprise that did not require practice. He opened the door and put the candle on the floor behind it, where he could easily find it on returning. I'll get a box of matches from somewhere while i'm out, said he. He was about to extinguish the candle when she stopped him. Mister lawran Shaw, she said, firmly, you haven't got your boots on. Those slippers are not thick enough for this

weather. He gazed at her. Should he yield to her? The idea of yielding to her for the mere sake of yielding to her presented it herself to him as a charming idea. So he disappeared with the candle and reappeared in his boots. You won't need a muffler, she suggested, now at the moment to play the hardy horseman. Oh no, he laughed. This concern for his welfare come in from such a royal creature, was, however, immensely agreeable. She stood out on the steps. He extinguished the candle,

and then joined her and banged the door. They started. Several hundred yards of winding, pitch dark drive had to be traversed. Will you kindly give me your arm, she said. She said it so primly, so correctly, and with such detachment that they might have been in church, and she saying, will you kindly let me look over your prayer book? When they arrived at the gas lit Old Castle road, he wanted to withdraw his arm, but he did not know how to begin withdrawing it. Hence he

was obliged to leave it where it was. And as they were approaching the front gate of the residence of mister Buchanan, the Scotch editor of the Signal, a perfect string of people emerged from that front gate. Missus Buchanan been giving a whist drive. There were sundry sweat nuns among the string, and the whole string was merry and talkative. It was a fine night. The eating pearls of the string bore up on the middle aged pair and peered and

passed good night, Missus Proctor, good night, mister Hollinshaw. Than another cold did the same, good night, Missus Proctor, good night, mister Hollinshaw. And so it went on, and the string, laughing and talking, gradually disappeared deminuendo in the distance towards Pursley. I suppose you know you've done it this time, observed Missus Proctor. It was a dark saying, but James fully understood it. He felt as they he had drunk Champagne as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, he said to himself,

and deliberately squeezed at the Royal arm. Nothing violent happened. He'd rather expect of the heavens to fall, or that at least Missus Procter will exclaim unt handby monster. But nothing violent happened, and this is me James Honor in Shaw, he said to himself, still squeezing. End of chapter twenty four tventy five of Helen with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Simon Evers, Chapter twenty five Girlish

Confidences. One afternoon, Sarah Swetnam called, and Helen in person opened the great door to visitor. I saw that frock in Brunce three days ago. Helen began kissing the tall, tight bound, large boned woman. I know you did, know, Sarah admitted, but you needn't tell me, so don't you like it? I think it's a dream, Helen replied, quickly turn round. But there was a certain lack of conviction in her voice,

and in Sarah's manner there was something strained. Accordingly, they both became extravagantly effusive, or at any rate more effusive than usual, though each was well aware that the artifice was entirely futile all alone. Sarah asked, when she had recovered from the first shock of the hall's magnificence. Yes, said Helen. It's Georgiana's afternoon out and uncle's away, and I haven't got any new servants yet, mister holleran shore away. No one ever heard of such a

thing. If you knew him as well as we do, you'd have fainted with surprise. Ought to be in the paper. Where's he gone to. He's gone to Derby to try to buy some property that he says he's going very cheap there. He's been gone three days now. He got a letter at breakfast and said he must go to Derby at once. However, he had to finish his rents. The trouble is that his rents never are finished. And I'm bothered all the time by people coming with three and sixpence or

four shillings and a dirty rent book. Oh on the dirt, on the coins, My dear, you can't imagine there's one good thing. He will have to come back for next week's rents. Not as I'm sorry he's gone. Gives me a chance. You see, by the time he returns, I should have miss servants in. Do tell me what servants you're going to have. When I went to that agency at old Castle. I've got a German butler. He speaks four languages and hastyful eyes. A German butler.

If it had been a German prince, Sarah could not have been more startled nor more delighted. Yes, and a cook, and two other maids, and a gardener and a boy. How to keep Georgiana as my own maid? My child? You're going it, my child, I came here to go it. A and mister Oloronjoy is really pleased, Helen laughed. Oakle never goes into raptures, you know, but I hope he will be pleased. The fact is he doesn't know anything about these new servants yet. You'll

find them installed when he returns. It'd be a little treat for him. A piano came this morning. Care to try it? Rather, said Sarah? What I never saw anything like it? This was in reference to her first glimpse of the great drawing room. How you've improved him, you, dear thing? Is he? I have my own check book. It saves worry, I see, said Sarah, meaningly, putting her purse on the

piano, umbrella on a chair, and herself on the music stool. Shall we have tea, Anna suggested, after Sarah had performed on the beakastein yes, let me help you do, dearest. They wandered off to the kitchens, and while they were seated at the kitchen table, sipping tea side by side, Sarah said, now, if you want an idea, I've got a really good one for you. For me, what sort of an idea, I'll tell you. You know, Missus Wilchier is dead. I don't.

I didn't even know there was a Missus Wiltshire. Well there was, and there isn't any longer. Missus Wiltship was the main social prop of the old Rector, and the annual concert of the Saint Lut's Guild has always been held at her house down at Shoreport. You know, awfully poky, but it was the custom since the flood, and no one ever dared to hint at a change. Now the concert was to have been next week, but one, and she's just gone and died. And the rector is wondering where

he can hold it. I met him this morning. Why don't you let him hold it here? That will be a splendid way of opening your house at all. I beg its pardon and you could introduce the beautiful eyes of your German butler to the entire neighborhood. Of course, I don't know whether mister Ollerenshaw would like it, oh, said Helen, without blenching. Uncle would do as I wish, She mused in silence during a number of seconds. The idea doesn't appeal to you, Sarah queried, disappointment in her tones.

Oh yes it does, said Helen. But I must think it over now. Would you care to see the rest of the house. I should love to. Oh dear left my handkerchief from with my purse in the drawing room. Have mine, said Helen promptly. But even not to this final proof of intimate friendship, there still remained an obstinate trifle of insincerity in their

relations. That afternoon, Helen was sure that Sarah's wepman had paid the course specifically to say something, and that the something had not yet been said, and the apprehension of an impending scene gradually took possession of her nerves and disarranged them. When they reached the attic and were enjoined the glorious views of the Morland in the distance and of Wilborohom water in the immediate foreground, Henin said, very suddenly, will the rect to be in this afternoon? I should

say so? Why? I was thinking you might walk down there together, and I could suggest him, but once about having the concert here? Sarah clapped her hands. Then you've decided, certainly, how fuddy you are knell with your decisions. In Helen's bedroom amid her wardrobe, there was no chance of dangerous topics, the intention being monopolized by one subject, and that a

safe one. At last they went out together, two models of style and deportment, and had him pulled to the great front door with a loud echoing clang. Fancy that place being all empty? Aren't you afraid of sleeping there while your uncle is away? No, said Helen. But I should be afraid if Georgiana wasn't afraid. After this example of courageous introspection, a silence

fell upon the pair. The silence held firm while they got out of the grounds and crossed the old Castle Road and took to the Owl's Field Path, from which a unique panorama of Bursley chimneys, kilns, canals, railways and smoke pool is to be obtained. Hennen was determined not to break the silence. And then came the moment when Sarah Sweptman could no longer suffer the silence, and she began very cautiously. I suppose you've heard all about Andrew and

Emanuel Procter. Henny perceived that she had not been mistaken that the scene was at hand. No, said she, what about them? You don't mean to say you've not heard? Nor what about a quarrel between those two Immanuel and mister Dean. Yes, but you must have heard, I assure you, Sally, no one has told me a word about it, which was just as true as it was untrue. But they quarreled up here. I did hear that Andrew threw a bianuel into the lake? Who told you that

it was missus Proctor. She was calling on the mator yesterday, and she seemed to be full of it. According to the mate's account, Missus Proctor's idea was that they had quarreled about a woman. Missus Proctor shall be repaid for this, said Helen to herself. Surely Emmanuel hasn't been falling in love with Lillian, has he? Said Helen aloud. She considered this rather clever on her part, and it was. Oh no, replied Sallie positively,

It's not Lilian. And there was that in her tone which could not be expressed in ten volumes. You know perfectly well who the woman is. Helen seemed to hear her say. Then Henry said, I think I can explain it. They were both at our house the day we removed, or were they? Murmured Sarah in well acted surprise. Mister Deane fell of some steps that a man who was supposed to be holding I thought he was furious, but not to that point. That's probably the secret of the whole thing.

As for mister Deane having pushed Emmalion into the lake, I don't believe a word of it. Then how was it that Damaniel had a cold and had to stay in bed? My dear to have a cold, it isn't necessary to have been thrown into Wilbraham water. Hmm, that's true, Sarah admitted. However, Helen calmly proceeded, I'll find out all about it and let you know how should you find out, I shall make a man you tell me. He would tell me anything, and he's a dear boy. Do

you see him often up here? Sarah inquired, oh, yes, this was not true. We get on together excellently, and I'm pretty sure that a man is not well interested in any other woman. That's why I should say that they have not been quarreling about a woman, unless, of course, the woman is myself. She laughed and added, but I am not jealous. I can trust Himaniel, and with marvelous intrepidity. She looked Sarah Swetnam in the face. Then Sarah stammered, you and a Manuel. You

don't mean, my dear, Sally. Don't you think Emmanuel is a perfectly delightful boy? Oh yes, said Sarah. So do, I said Helen. But are you between ourselves? Helen murmured, mind you between ourselves? I can imagine stranger things happening, well, said Sarah. This is news mine, not a syllable, of course. Not. By the way, Helen asked, when are Andrew and Lillian going to be married? I don't know. No one knows one confidence for another, My dear, they don't

always hit it off. What a pity, Helen remarked, because if ever two people were suititudurer than this world, they are. But I hope they'll shake down. They arrived at the Rector's end of chapter twenty five. Chapter twenty six off Helen with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This vox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Simon Eves, Chapter twenty six the Concert. On another afternoon, a middle aged man and a young hearted woman

emerged together from Bursley Railway station. They had a little luggage, and a cab from the Tiger met them by appointment. Impossible to deny that the young hearted one was wearing a flowered silk under a traveling mantle. The man, before getting into the cab, inquired as to the cost of the cab. The gold Angel of the town hall rose majestically in front of him, and immediately behind him the park, with the bowling green at the top, climbed

the more thorn slope. The burning season was of course over, but even during the season he had scarcely played. He was a changed person, and the greatest change of all had occurred that very morning. Throughout a long, an active career, he had worn paper collars. Pepper collars had sufficed him and then not shocked his friends. But now he wore a linid, and

eleven other linen collars were in his carpet bag. Yet it had been said by some individual who obviously lacked experience of human nature, that a man never changes the style of his collar. After forty the cab drove up to Hillport and deposited flowered silk and one bag at the residence of Missus Pocter. It then ascended higher, passing into the grounds at Wilbraham Hall, and ultimately stopping at the Grandeurse portals thereof which were wide open. The occupant of the cab

was surprised to see two other cabs just departing. The next moment, he was more than surprised, he was startled. A gentleman in the evening dress stood at the welcoming doors, and on perceiving him, this gentleman ran down the steps and with a sort of hurried grace, took his carpet bag from him, addressing him in broken English and indicating by incomprehensible words and comprehensible signs that he regarded him the new arrival, as the light of his eyes,

and the protector of the poor and of the oppressed. And no sooner had he got the new rifle safe into the hall than he tripped him of hat coat and muffler. I might have proceeded to extremes had not his attention been distracted by another vehicle. This vehicle contained the aged rector of Bursley. Ah, mister honorand Shaw cried the Divine. Your niece told me that only yesterday that she was still in Darby buying property and would not be back. I've

bought it, Parson, said James. Ha ha, ha, said the Divine. Rubbing his hands, he stooped habituary, which gave him the air of always trying to limpse at his toes over the promontory of his waist, and as James made no reply to the remark, he repeated, ha, ha ha, Say you've decided to come to my concid eh. I only heard of it yesterday, said James. Oh Well, said the divine. I afraid they'll be waiting for me this way. Isn't it a fine place

you've got here? Very fine noble? And he disappeared through the double doors that led to the drawing room, which doors were part of him by a mannikin whose clothes seemed to be held together by new sixpences. During the brief, instead of opening a vivacious murmur of conversation escaped like gas from the drawing room into the hall. James glanced about for his bag. It was gone.

The gentleman in evening dress was out on the steps. Disheartened by the mysterious annihilation of his old friend the bag, James, weary with too much and too various emotion, went slowly up the grand staircase in his bedroom. The first thing he saw was his bag, which had been opened and its contents suitably bestowed. Thus his hair brushes were on the dressing table. This

miracle completed his undoing. He sat down on an easy chair, drew the ider down off the bed, and put it on his knees, for the temperature was low. He did not intend to go to sleep, but he did go to sleep. It was simply a case of nature recovering from emotions. He slept about an hour, and then, having brushed his wishpish hair,

he decended the stairs, determined to do or die. Perhaps he would not have plumped himself straight into the drawing room had not the mannequin lad in sixpences assumed that the drawing room was his mecca and thrown open the doors. A loud hush greeted him. The splendid chamber was full of women's hats and men's heads, but hats predominated, and the majority of the audience was seated on gilt chairs, which James had never before seen. Probably there were four

or five score gilt's chairs. At the other end of the room, the aged rector sat in an easy chair head and herself was perched at the piano, and in front of the piano stood Immanuel Proctor, except that the room was much larger, and that instead of a faultless evening dress a mani wore a faultless frock coat with the rest of her suit. The scene reminded James of a similar one on the Great Concertina Knight of Missus Proctor's. Many things

had happened since then, still repeats itself. Oh Love, exclaimed d'itaniel Proctor, adagio and soster utto, thus diverting from James a hundred glances, which James certainly was delighted to lose. And Helen made the piano say oh Love in its fashion, and presently Emmania was launched upon the sea of his yearnings, and voyaging behind the hurricane of passion, and as usual, he hid nothing from his hearers. Then he hove too, and as it were,

climbed to the main top gallant sail in order to announce Oh Love. It was not surprising that his voice cracked. Emmanuel ought to be the last person to be surprised at such a phenomenon, but he was surprised. To him, the phenomenon of that cracking was semi paternally novel and astounding. It pained and shocked him. He wondered whose the fault could be, and then, according to his habit, he thought of the pianist. Of course, it

was the thought of the pianist. And while continuing to say, he slowly turned and gazed with sternness at the pianist. The audience must not be allowed to be under any misapprehension as to the identity of the culprit. Unfortunately, Emmanuel, wrapped up like the artist he was in his performance, had himself forgotten the identity of the culprit. Helen had ceased to be Helen. She was merely his pianist. The thing that he least expected to encounter when gazing

sternly at the pianist was the pianist's gaze. He was accustomed to flash his anger on the pianist's back. But Helen, who had seen other pianists at work for Emmanuel, turned as he turned, and their eyes met. The collision disorganized Emmanuel. He continued to glare with sternness, and he ceased to sing. A contodeur had happened for the fifth for second everybody felt exceedingly awkward.

Then Helen said, with a faint, cold smile, in a voice very low and very clear, what's the matter with you, mister Proctor. It wasn't my l that cracked the minx. There was a half hearted attempt at the maintenance of the proprieties, and then Wilbropham Hall rang with the laughter of a joke which the next day had become the common, precious property of all the five towns. When the aged rector had restored his flock to a

sense of decency. Mister Emmanuel Proctor had vanished in that laughter. His career as a singer reached an abrupt and final conclusion. The concert also came to an end, and the collection by which the Divine always terminated these proceedings was the largest in the history of the guild. A quarter of an hour or twenty minutes later, all the guests, members and patrons of the Saint Luke's Guild had left, most of them full of kind inquiries after miss Ollerenshaw,

the genial host of that so remarkably successful entertainment. The appearances and disappearances of mister Ollernshaw had been a little disturbing. First it had been announced that he was detained in Darby buying property. Indeed, few persons were unaware that, except for a flying visit in the middle of two days to collect his rents,

James had spent a fortnight in Derby purchasing some reportions of Derby. Certainly, Helen had not expected him, nor had she expected Missus Proctor, who two days previously had been called away by telegram to the bedside of a sick cousin in Nottingham. Nor had she expected Lilian Swetnam, who was indisposed. The unexpected ladies had not arrived, but James had arrived as disconcerting as a ghost, and then had faded away with equal strangeness. None of the departing

audience had seen even the tassel of his cap. Helen discovered him in his little room at the end of the hall. She was resplendent in black and silver. So here you are, uncle, said she, and kissed him. I'm so glad you got back in time. Can you a missixpence? What for las? I ought to give it to the man who's taken away the chairs. I had to hear what's come of that seven hundred and seventy pound orders ye had? Oh, she said lightly, I've spent that for

short. She might as well have done with it, and added, and I'm in debt lots. We'll be talk about that later. Sixpence please, he blenched, And he too have been expensive in the pursuit of delight. He too had tars some trifles on his mind. So he produced the sixpence and accepted the dissipation of nearly eight hundred pounds in less than a month. With superb silence. Helen rang the bell. You see, I've had all the bells put in order, she said. The gentleman in evening dress entered.

Fritz said she give the sixpence to the man with the chairs. Yes, Miss Fritz, dofily replied, A note for you, miss, and he stretched forth a charge, on which was a white envelope. Excuse me, uncle, said she tearing the envelope. Dinner my melas said he The note rang, I must see you by the water to night at nine o'clock. Don't fail or there will be a row a d She crushed it. No answer, Fritz said she tell cook dinner for two. Oozy, demanded

James. When Fritz bowed himself out, that's our butler, said Henlen kindly. Don't you like his eyes? I wouldn't swap him eyes, said James. He could not trust himself to discuss the butler's eyes at length. Don't be late for dinner, will you, uncle, she entreated him. Dinner, he cried, I've me dinner at Derby. What about me? Tea? I mean tea, she said. He went upstairs again to his room, but did not stay there. A moment in the corridor he met Helen

swishing along. Look he alas he stopped her. A straight question deserves a straight answer. I'm not given to curiosity as a rule, But what is a manual procter doing on my bed? Amnua procter on your bed? Henry eat it blankly. He saw that she was suffering from genuine surprise on my bed, he insisted. The butler appeared, having heard the inquiry from below. He explained that mister Proctor, after the song, had come to and asked where he could lie down as he was conscious of a tendency to faint.

The butler had indicated mister Ollerinshaw's room as the only masculine room available. Go and ask him how he feels, Helen commanded. Fritz, obeyed and returned with the message that mister Proctor had one of his attacks and desired his mother. But he can't have his mother, said Helen. She is that not him? He told me so himself. He must be delirious, and she laughed, No, I isn't Jane put in HER's at one? How do you know, Uncle, I know, said James. I'd better be

sent for, And she was send for. End of chapter twenty six, Apter twenty seven of Helen with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Simon Evers, Chapter twenty seven

unknotting and Notting. When missus Procter arrived, it was obvious to Helen, in spite of her wonderful calm upon discovering James Olorn Shaw's butler and page that the lady was extremely ill at ease, and Helen, though preoccupied herself by matters of the highest personal importance, did what she could to remedy a state of affairs so unusual. Probably nobody within the memory of that generation had ever

seen Missus Proctor ill at ease. Helen inquired as to the health of the sick relative of Nottingham, and received a reply in which vagueness was mingled with hesitancy and a blush. It then became further obvious to the perspicuous Helen that Missus Proctor must have heard of her stepson's singular adventure and either resented Helen's share in it or was ashamed of Emmanuel's sharing it. You know that Emmanuel is

here, said Helen, with a most diplomatic and captivating smile. Missus Proctor did not know, I thought mister lauren Shure wanted me, Missus Porter exclaimed, So I came as quickly as I could. It was I who wanted to speak to you, said Helen. The truth is that a mandon is lying on uncle's bed un well or something, and expressed a wish to see you. He was singing at the concert. So sorry I wasn't able to be here, missus Porter inserted, with effusive anxiety. We missed you awfully.

Helen properly responded. The rector was inconsolable, so was everybody, She added, feeling that as a compliment, the rector's grief might be deemed insufficient. And he had a breakdown. Oh Emmanuel, yes, I was accompanying him. I am afraid it was my fault. Anyhow, he didn't finish his song, and then we missed him. He'd asked the butler to let him lie down somewhere. An uncle find him in his bedroom. Oh this is nothing serious, Oh, my dear girl, said missus Proctor, regaining

somewhat her natural demeanor in a laugh. If it's only one of Emmanuel's singing breakdance, we needn't worry. Can I go up and talk sense to him? He's just like a child, you know. Let me take you up, cried Helen, and the two women assented the grand staircase. It was the first time the grand staircase had been used with becoming dignity, since Missus Procter had used it on her visit of inspection that staircase and Missus Proctor were

made for each other. No sooner had they disappeared than James popped out of his lair where he had been hiding, and gazed up the staircase like a hunter stalking his prey. The arrival of the page and sixpences put him out of countenance for a moment, especially when the page began to feed the hall far in a manner contrary to all James's lifelong notions of feeding fis. However,

he passed the time by giving the page a lesson. Helen tapped at the bedroom door, left Missus Proctor to enter, and descended the stairs again. Is a up there with him? James asked in a whisper. Henn nodded. You'd better ask her stop and have something to eat with us, said James. Helen had to reconcile James Ollerenshaw to the new skirn of existence at Wilbraham Hall. She had to make him swallow the butler and the Page, and the other servants and the grand piano in themselves a heavy repast,

without counting the evening dinner after the present. He had said nothing, because there had been no fair opportunity to say anything. But he might start at any moment, and Helen had no reason to believe that he had even begun the process of swallowing. She argued, with a sure feminine instinct and a large experience of mankind, that if he were only be dodged into tessitly accepting the new scale for even a single meal, her task would be very much

simplified. And what an anne, missus Proctor would be. Tell cook, there'll be three to dinner, she said to the page, who fled leefully. After a protracted interval, missus Proctor reappeared. She began by sighing. The foolish boy is seriously damage, said she not hurt? Hennan asked, yes, but only in his dignity. He pretends it's his throat, but it isn't. It's only his dignity. I suppose all singers are children like

that. I'm merely ashamed to have to ask you to let me lie there a little, dear miss Rothbourne. But he is positively sure that he can't get up. I've booned through these crisis with him before, but never won quite so bad. She laughed. They all laughed. I'll let him lie there on one condition, Henny sweetly replied, and that is that you stay to dinner. I'm relying on you and I won't take her refusal. Missus Proctor looked sharply at James, and James blushed. James, she explained,

you've told her and he promised you wouldn't till to to morrow. Nay, said James, I've said nowt it's you as let it out now. Missus told me what Missus Proctor. Helelen asked, utterly, unexpectant of the answer she was to get. My dear girl, said the other dame. Do not call me missus Procter. I'm Missus Ollaranshaw. I am the property that your uncle has been buying at Derby, and he is my sick relative at Nottingham. We prefer to do it like that. We could not have survived

engagements and for dissitations. Oh you wicked soon as you you you terrible to harlings. Helen burst out. As soon as she could control her voice. Missus Olleranshaw wept discreetly. Bless Us. Bless Us murmured James not to beseech a benediction, but simply to give the impression quite false that, in his opinion, much fast was being made about nothing. The new scare of existence was definitely accepted, and in private Missus Olleranshaw entirely agreed with Helen as to

the merits of the butler. After dinner, James hurried to his lair to search for a book. The book was not where he had left it on his original entry into Wilbraham Hall. Within two minutes the majority of the household staff was engaged in finding that book. Ultimately the butler discovered it. The butler had been reading it, aye, said James, and the volume as he stood in front of the rich expensive fire in the hall. Dickens, Garles Dickens. That's the chap's name. I couldn't think of it when I

was turning about the book the other day. I mun go on with that. Couldn't you play or something, responded his wife. In the triumph of concertina's over grand pianos, poor Emmanuel lying wounded upstairs was forgotten, and five minutes to nine Helen stole, unperceived away from the domestic tableau. She had by no means recovered from her amazement, but she'd screened it off by main force in her mind, and she was now occupied with something far more important

than the blainless amoors of the richest old man. In Hillport, by Wilbraham Water, a young man was walking to and fro in the deep autumn night. He wore a cap and a muffler, but no overcoat, and his hands were pushed far down into the pockets of his trousers. He regarded the ground fixedly and stamped his feet at every step. Then a pale gray figure with head enveloped in a shawl and skirts carefully withdrawn from the ground, approached him. He did not salute the figure. He did not even take his

hands out of his pockets. He put his face close to hers, and each could see that the other's features were white and anxious. So you've come, said he glumly. What do you want, Henning coldly asked, I want to speak to you, That's what I want. If you care for a man, your proctor, why did you play that trick on him this afternoon? What trick you know, puffety, were what I mean? So I thank you not to beat about the bush. The plain fact is that

you don't care a pin per Proctor. I never said I did. You made every one believe you did anyhow, I've even made me think so though all the time I knew it was impossible, and asked like that, what do you want? Hennin repeated. They were both using a tone intended to indicate that they were enemies from everlasting to everlasting, and that mere words could not express the intensity of their mutual hatred and scorn. The casual distance observer

might have conceive the encounter to be a love for id All. There was a short silence. I broke off my engagement last night, Andrew Dee muttered, ferotiously. Really, Henn commented, you don't seem to care. I don't see what it has to do with me. But if you talked Delidian Sweatnam in the same nice, agreeable manner that you talked to me, I can't sound surprised to hear that she broke with you. Who told you she broke? Andrew demanded, I guessed, said, Helen, you never have

had the courage to break it off yourself. Andrew made a vicious movement. If you mean to serve me as you served Emmanuel, she remarked, with bitter calm. Please do it as gently as you can, and don't throw me far. I can only swim a little. Andrew walked away. Good night, She called. Look here, he snarled, coming back to her. What's the matter with you? I know I oughtn't have asked Lilian to marry me. Everybody knows that so universally agreed. But are you going to

make that an excuse of spoiling the old shawl? What's up with you? Is pride? And what is up with you? She inquired? Pride said he How could I know you were in love with me all the time? Oh could? You couldn't, said Helen. I wasn't more more than you were with me. If you weren't in love with me, why did you try to make me jealous? Me try to make you jealous, she exclaimed, disdainfully. You flatter yourself, mister Dean. I could stand a good deal, but I can't stand lies, and I won't, he exploded.

I say you did try to make me jealous. He then noticed that she was crying. The dewlog might have extended itself indefinitely if her tears had not excited him to uncontrollable fury to that indistinctive cruelty that every male is capable of under certain conditions. Without asking her permission, without uttering a word of warning, he rushed at her and seized her in his arms. He crushed her with the whole of his very considerable strength, and he added insult to injury

by kissing her about forty seven times. Women are such strange, incalculable creatures. Herlen did not protest, She did not invoke the protection of heaven. She existed passively and silently, the unremonstrating victim of his disgraceful violence. Then he held her at arm's length. Will you marry me? Yes? She said, Did you try to make me jealous? Yes? Later, as

they walked by the lake, created arm an awful brute. I like you as you are, she replied, But the answer was lacking in precision, for at that moment he was being as tender as only an awful brute can be. Of course, she said, you mustn't say anything about it yet, No, he agreed. Thread it out at once might make on pleasantness between you and the swetnams. Oh, she said, I wasn't thinking of that. But there's another love affair in the house, and no house will

hold two at once. It would be nauseating. That is how they talk in the Five Towns, as if one could have too much love even in a cottage, to say nothing of a Wilburhome hall. Missus Oreroonshaw placidly decided that she and James would live at the Hall, though James would have preferred something a si smaller. As I have already noticed, the staircase suited her. James suited her too. No one could guess why, except possibly James. They got on together, as the Five Towns said, like a house

a fire head. And and Andrew Dean was satisfied with the semi detacted villa in Park Road, with a fine view of the gold Angel women, very crapitious beings. Helen is perfectly satisfied with one servant, but she dresses rather better than ever. End of chapter twenty seven. End of Helen with the High Hand by Arnold Bennett