raining,' protested the old man, trying in vain to keep his guests.
'Can't be helped,' said Peter firmly. 'We'll have another go at the garden as soon as we can. And there's plenty of marking waiting for me at home too which I must go and tackle.'
He held out his hand, and smiled at Sergeant Burnaby.
'I know you'll forgive us for hurrying away,' he said with sudden gentleness. 'But you'll be seeing quite a lot of us in the next few weeks. Too much probably.'
They escaped into the pouring rain, collected their things, and drove home through the storm to Caxley.
The Hales spent the grey, wet evening in their armchairs. Diana's hands were busy with knitting a pale-blue coat for a god-daughter's baby. Her head was busy with thoughts of their two tenants.
What on earth had they taken on?
Peter's thoughts were engaged with his history marking. His red pencil ticked and slashed its way across the pages. Every now and again he gave a snort of impatience.
'Sometimes I wonder if Lower Fourths can take in American history,' he said, slapping shut one grubby exercise book. 'Young Fellowes here informs me that the Northern Abortionists—a phrase used five times—were extremely active in the nineteenth century.'
'Northern Abortionists?' echoed Diana, bewildered.
'"Abolitionists", to everyone else in the form,' explained Peter, reaching for his pipe. 'But not to young Fellowes, evidently. He's the sort of boy who writes the first word that enters his head. It might just as well have been the Northern Aborigines, or Abyssinians, or anything else beginning with Ab.'
He patted the books into a neat pile.
'That'll do for tonight,' he said firmly. 'They don't have to be returned until term starts.'
'Only another fortnight,' said Diana, 'and so little done at Tyler's Row.'
'What's the hurry? Look upon it as a hobby. It's no good fretting about delay, and we're in the hands of Bellamy and the builder anyway.'
'But nothing seems to be happening.'
'It will soon enough,' Peter assured her.
He spoke more truly than he knew.
6. The Problem of Tyler's Row
WORK began at Tyler's Row towards the end of September, and Diana and Peter grew quite excited when they saw how much had been accomplished after ten days.
Everything movable, the old kitchen range, the light fittings, the worm-eaten dresser—even some of the wallpaper—had gone, and the two cottages appeared to be stripped for action.
What they failed to realise, in their innocence, was the fact that the first stages of any building work are rapid and quickly apparent. It is the last stages which are so maddeningly prolonged, when plasterers wait for plumbers, and plumbers wait for electricians, and decorators wait for the right paint and wallpaper, and the owners wait to get into the place, with the growing conviction that the mad-house will claim them first.
Those despairing days were still in the future, but already things were becoming complicated for the Hales in the early part of the term. The headmaster, knowing that Peter was intending to move, asked if he might buy his present house.
'My son John comes back from Singapore before Christmas. They've three children now, and another on the way, and your house would be ideal.'
'We shan't be out of it until well after Christmas,' said Peter.
'Surely a couple of cottages won't take all that time to put to rights?'
'They're doing pretty well at the moment,' replied Peter, 'but Bellamy Croft won't be hurried, and I think John will have to look elsewhere if he wants to bring the family straight into a house.'
'He might get temporary accommodation,' mused the headmaster aloud. 'Until you're ready, I mean.'
And a very pleasant situation that would be, thought Peter, with a harassed family man breathing down his neck, urging him into a half-finished Tyler's Row. He was not going to be hustled into anything, he told himself sturdily.
But this was only the beginning. It was amazing how many people decided that Peter Hale's
'Can't be helped,' said Peter firmly. 'We'll have another go at the garden as soon as we can. And there's plenty of marking waiting for me at home too which I must go and tackle.'
He held out his hand, and smiled at Sergeant Burnaby.
'I know you'll forgive us for hurrying away,' he said with sudden gentleness. 'But you'll be seeing quite a lot of us in the next few weeks. Too much probably.'
They escaped into the pouring rain, collected their things, and drove home through the storm to Caxley.
The Hales spent the grey, wet evening in their armchairs. Diana's hands were busy with knitting a pale-blue coat for a god-daughter's baby. Her head was busy with thoughts of their two tenants.
What on earth had they taken on?
Peter's thoughts were engaged with his history marking. His red pencil ticked and slashed its way across the pages. Every now and again he gave a snort of impatience.
'Sometimes I wonder if Lower Fourths can take in American history,' he said, slapping shut one grubby exercise book. 'Young Fellowes here informs me that the Northern Abortionists—a phrase used five times—were extremely active in the nineteenth century.'
'Northern Abortionists?' echoed Diana, bewildered.
'"Abolitionists", to everyone else in the form,' explained Peter, reaching for his pipe. 'But not to young Fellowes, evidently. He's the sort of boy who writes the first word that enters his head. It might just as well have been the Northern Aborigines, or Abyssinians, or anything else beginning with Ab.'
He patted the books into a neat pile.
'That'll do for tonight,' he said firmly. 'They don't have to be returned until term starts.'
'Only another fortnight,' said Diana, 'and so little done at Tyler's Row.'
'What's the hurry? Look upon it as a hobby. It's no good fretting about delay, and we're in the hands of Bellamy and the builder anyway.'
'But nothing seems to be happening.'
'It will soon enough,' Peter assured her.
He spoke more truly than he knew.
6. The Problem of Tyler's Row
WORK began at Tyler's Row towards the end of September, and Diana and Peter grew quite excited when they saw how much had been accomplished after ten days.
Everything movable, the old kitchen range, the light fittings, the worm-eaten dresser—even some of the wallpaper—had gone, and the two cottages appeared to be stripped for action.
What they failed to realise, in their innocence, was the fact that the first stages of any building work are rapid and quickly apparent. It is the last stages which are so maddeningly prolonged, when plasterers wait for plumbers, and plumbers wait for electricians, and decorators wait for the right paint and wallpaper, and the owners wait to get into the place, with the growing conviction that the mad-house will claim them first.
Those despairing days were still in the future, but already things were becoming complicated for the Hales in the early part of the term. The headmaster, knowing that Peter was intending to move, asked if he might buy his present house.
'My son John comes back from Singapore before Christmas. They've three children now, and another on the way, and your house would be ideal.'
'We shan't be out of it until well after Christmas,' said Peter.
'Surely a couple of cottages won't take all that time to put to rights?'
'They're doing pretty well at the moment,' replied Peter, 'but Bellamy Croft won't be hurried, and I think John will have to look elsewhere if he wants to bring the family straight into a house.'
'He might get temporary accommodation,' mused the headmaster aloud. 'Until you're ready, I mean.'
And a very pleasant situation that would be, thought Peter, with a harassed family man breathing down his neck, urging him into a half-finished Tyler's Row. He was not going to be hustled into anything, he told himself sturdily.
But this was only the beginning. It was amazing how many people decided that Peter Hale's
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