Chapter 2 Chapter two

Griselda was a very troublesome woman.I had just left the table feeling well enough to prepare a good and powerful speech to the Church of England Ladies, and now I felt restless and disturbed. Just as I calmed down, Lettice Protheroe floated up. I say "floating," and that's apt.I've read novels in which young people are described as exuberant - instant gratification, youthful exuberance...etc, it seems to me that all the young people I meet seem to have some kind of animal soul. This afternoon, Lettice was especially so. She was tall and slender, with a beautiful face, but her expression was indifferent.She came in through the French windows, absently removed the beret she was wearing, and mumbled in a fussy voice, "Oh, it's you!"

There is a path here from the "old house" through the woods, and the exit is our garden gate, so most people who come from there will go through the garden gate and go through the study window instead of going around one.Great way to the front door.I'm not surprised that Lettice is here.However, I do feel a little offended by her attitude. If you come to the Vicarage.You have to be prepared to meet with a pastor. She came in and slumped down in one of my easy chairs.She caressed her hair casually and stared at the ceiling. "Is Dennis somewhere around here?" "I haven't seen him since lunch. I know he's gone to play tennis with you."

"Oh," said Lettice, "I hope he didn't. He won't find anybody there." "He said you invited him." "I did. I had an appointment on Friday, but today is Tuesday." "It's Wednesday," I said. "Oh, how bad!" said Lettice, "that is to say, for the third time I've forgotten to have lunch with some people." Fortunately, this did not worry her too much. "Is Griselda somewhere around here?" "I think you'll see her in the garden studio—sitting for Laurence Redding to paint." "There's a lot going on about him," Lettice said. "It's a fight with Daddy. Daddy's so stubborn."

"What are the rumors—what's the matter?" I asked. "It's about him painting me. Daddy found out. Why can't I be painted in a bathrobe? If I can go to the beach in a bathrobe, why can't I be painted?" Lettice paused, then went on: "That's absurd... Daddy won't let a young man in the house. Of course, Lawrence and I just yelled at it. I'm going to come to your studio and finish this picture." "No, dear, I said no if your father won't let you." "Oh! dear," said Lettice, with a sigh. "Everyone's so boring. I'm bored, not at all. If I had some money, I'd go away, but I don't have money, I can't. If Daddy had money and died, I You can do whatever you want."

"You can't say that, Lettice." "Oh, he shouldn't be so stingy with money if he doesn't want me to want him dead. No wonder mom left him.For years I thought she was dead, you know? What kind of young man did she elope with?is he pretty " "That was before your father came here." "I wonder what happened to her. I think Anne's going to be having a little affair with somebody soon too. Anne hates me, she's nice to me, but she hates me. She's getting old and she doesn't like it .You know, at this age, your temper can get queer."

I fear Lettice will spend the afternoon in my study. "You haven't seen my records, have you?" she asked. "No." "It's so annoying. I don't know where it is. I lost my dog ​​too. I lost my watch too, but it doesn't matter much, it doesn't work anyway. Wow! My God, I'm so sleepy. I don't know why, I didn't get up until eleven o'clock. But life is so heartbreaking, don't you think? Oh! God, I have to go. I have to go to see Si at three o'clock Doctor Tong digs his grave." I glanced at the clock. It was twenty-five minutes to four.

"Oh, is it? It's too bad. I don't know if they'll wait for me or leave me. I think I'd better hurry and see if I can catch them." She got up and drifted away again, turned her head and said: "You'll tell Dennis, won't you?" I said "yes" casually, and by the time I realized I didn't know what to tell Dennis, it was too late.But I know it probably doesn't matter.The matter of Dr. Stone has caused me to ponder.He was an archaeologist of note and had recently been at the Blue Boar, supervising the excavation of a tomb on Colonel Protheroe's land.There had been several disputes between him and the colonel.It was amusing that he asked Lettis to watch the grave-digging.

To me, Lettice Protheroe is a bit of a coquette.I wondered how she got on with Miss Crumb, the archaeologist's secretary.Miss Crumb was a sturdy young woman of five-and-twenty, with a free-spirited manner, a mature complexion, animal vitality, and a mouth full of rough teeth that seemed to be unable to contain her. People in the village have mixed opinions about her, some think she is nothing more than that, others think that she is a moral young woman who is trying to become Mrs. Stone as soon as possible.She was very different from Lettice. I can imagine that conditions in the "old house" might not be too pleasant.

About five years ago, Colonel Protheroe married again.The new lady is exceptionally good looking.I've been guessing that her relationship with her stepdaughter is not going to be great. Someone came to disturb me again.This time it's my curate, Howes.He wanted to know the details of my conversation with Prothero.I told him that the Colonel was sorry for his "irascible character," but that the real purpose of his visit was about something else entirely.At the same time, I expressed my opinion bluntly, telling him that he must obey my judgment.On the whole, he took my opinion with pleasure.

My dislike for him was not lessened when he left, and I regret it quite a bit.I am convinced that a person's irrational likes and dislikes of others are very inconsistent with the spirit of Christ. I sighed, realizing that the hands of the alarm clock on the writing desk had struck a quarter to five, which meant it was well past tea time, and I made my way to the living room. Four parishioners had assembled in the drawing-room with teacups.Griselda sat at the tea table, trying to look casual and natural, but more distinctive than usual. I shook hands with everyone, and sat down between Miss Marple and Miss Wetherby.

Miss Marple is a silver-haired lady with a gentle and charming manner, while Miss Wetherby is sarcastic and passionate.Of the two, Miss Marple was the more difficult one. "We were talking about Mr. Stone and Miss Crumb," said Griselda in a sweet, gentle voice. A nasty rhyme that Dennis made up popped into my head. I suddenly had the urge to say the rhyme aloud and see how the people present would react, but luckily I refrained from it.Miss Wetherby said grimly: "No decent girl would do that." Then, she closed her thin lips angrily. "What?" I asked. "Be a secretary to an unmarried man," said Miss Wetherby in a terrible tone. "Oh! dear," said Miss Marple, "I think married men are the worst. Remember poor Molly Carter?" "Of course, married men who do not live with their wives tend to have a bad reputation," said Miss Wetherby. "There were even those who lived with their wives," murmured Miss Marple. "I remember..." I interrupted her unpleasant memory. "Of course," I said, "now a girl can do what men do." "To the country? To stay at the same hotel?" asked Mrs. Price Ridley sternly. Miss Wetherby whispered to Miss Marple in a low whisper: "All bedrooms on the same floor..." Miss Hartnell was a strong, lively disposition, and the poor were afraid of her, and said loudly and frankly: "The poor get caught before they figure out what's going on. He's as innocent as an unborn baby, you get that." It's strange that we compete for such a metaphor.Ladies here, no one would have thought to use the analogy of a baby safely in its cradle for all to see. "I say it's disgusting," said Miss Hartnell, with her usual frankness. "The man is at least twenty-five years older than she is." Immediately the three women's voices rose to chatter about the choir boy's excursion, the regrettable incident at the last mother's meeting, and the church's financial difficulties.Miss Marple winked at Griselda. "Don't you think," said my wife, "that Miss Crumb just wants to have an interesting job? She just sees Mr. Stone as an ordinary employer." There was silence.Apparently, none of the four women agreed.Miss Marple patted Griselda on the arm and broke the silence. "Honey," she said, "you're young. Young people have such childish minds." Griselda said angrily that she had no childish mind at all. "Of course," said Miss Marple, ignoring the plea. "You look good on everyone." "Do you really think she's going to marry that boring bald guy?" "I know he's very rich," said Miss Marple, "but I'm afraid he's very bad-tempered. One day he had a big row with Colonel Protheroe." Everyone came together curiously. "Colonel Protheroe called him an idiot." "How absurd to look like Colonel Protheroe's usual temper," said Mrs. Price Ridley. "It's very much like Colonel Protheroe's usual temper, but I see no absurdity in it," said Miss Marple. "Do you still remember the woman who came here last time and said that she represented a certain welfare institution, and after taking away the donation, she disappeared. Later, she learned that she had nothing to do with the welfare institution. It is easy for a person to trust others and believe in others' self-promotion. " I will never again say that Miss Marple is credulous. "There's still some talk about that young artist, Mr Redding, isn't there?" asked Miss Wetherby. Miss Marple nodded. "Colonel Protheroe kicked him out of the house. Looks like Lettice made him paint in her bathrobe." "I've always thought there was something between them," said Mrs. Price Ridley. "The lad's always hanging around. Pity the girl has no mother. A stepmother's a whole other thing." "I dare say Mrs. Protheroe has done her best," said Miss Hartnell. "Girls are always secretive," said Mrs. Price Ridley tentatively. "Quite an affair, isn't it?" said the softer Miss Wetherby. "He's a handsome lad." "But bohemian," said Miss Hartnell, "it must be. Artists! Paris! Models! A mess!" "Draw her in her bathrobe," says Price Ridley. "Irregular." "He painted me too," said Griselda solemnly. "Naughty girl," said Hartnell, accepting the joke magnanimously.Everyone else looked a little surprised. "Did Miss Lettice tell you about her troubles?" asked Miss Marple. "tell me?" "Yes. I saw her pass the garden and come round to your study window." Miss Marple was always on the lookout.Working in the garden is like a smoke screen, and that kind of watching the willows across the river always works. "Yes, she mentioned it," I admitted. "Mr. Howes looks worried," said Miss Marple. "I hope he doesn't overwork himself." "Oh!" exclaimed Miss Wetherby excitedly, "I had quite forgotten. I must tell you some news. I saw Dr. Haydock coming out of Mrs. Lestrands' cottage." Everyone met each other. "Perhaps she's ill," speculated Mrs. Price Ridley. "If she was ill, it was very sudden," said Mrs. Hartnell, "for I saw her walking about her garden at three o'clock this afternoon, and she did not appear ill at all." "She must have been an old acquaintance with Dr. Haydock," said Mrs. Price Ridley. "He has been keeping it to himself." "It's strange," said Miss Weatherby, "that he doesn't say a word." "The thing is..." Griselda murmured mysteriously, but stopped talking.Everyone eagerly leaned over. "I heard it by chance, too," said Griselda vividly, "that her husband was a missionary. Horrible story: he was eaten by savages, you know. .She was forced to be the chief's wife. Dr. Haydock was with an expedition and rescued her." There was a moment of excitement, when Miss Marple smiled and said reproachfully, "Naughty girl!" She patted Griselda on the arm reproachfully. "My dear, it's not very clever. People are unlikely to believe you if you make up such a story. And it can complicate things sometimes." There was an air of palpable alienation among the group.Two women got up and left. "I wonder if there really is something going on between young Laurence Redding and Lettice Protheroe," said Miss Wetherby. "It seems to be the case. What do you think, Miss Marple?" Miss Marple seemed thoughtful. "I don't see it that way myself. It wouldn't be Lettice. I see it as something else entirely." "However, Colonel Protheroe would have thought..." "I've always had the impression he was a stupid fellow," said Miss Marple, "the kind of guy who gets the wrong idea in his head and clings to it. You remember Joe Bucknell who kept the 'Blue Boar' Hotel Is it? There's all this fuss about his daughter with young Barry. It's his slut wife, actually." She looked straight at Griselda as she said this, and I felt a sudden pang of irritation, "Miss Marple," I said, "do you think we're all tight-lipped people? , you know that. Vicious babbling, stupid babbling can do a lot of damage." "My dear clergyman," said Miss Marple, "you are too unworldly. From my long observation of human nature, I am afraid that one cannot expect too much from human nature. I dare say gossip is often wrong." , malicious, but often true, isn't it?" This last rebuttal is in one sentence.