such bodies as the Parent-Teacher association, St Andrew's church where the two ladies worshipped, the local Women's Institute, as well as individual friends.
Respect and affection for the two hard-working spinsters united all these bodies, and it was generally agreed that some appropriate tribute should be paid. Dimity's suggestion of 'a bunfight and a clock' rather summed up the general feeling but it was expressed more elegantly, and at much greater length, when the various committees gathered together to come to a decision.
Charles Henstock, as chairman of the school managers - or governors , as he tried to remember they were now designated - consulted his old friend Harold Shoosmith before approaching his fellow managers.
'Have you any ideas, Harold? Dimity suggests money - but somehow I feel that might not be acceptable. I rather favour a nice piece of silver. Perhaps a salver?'
'Does anyone ever use a salver?'
'I suppose not,' replied Charles doubtfully. 'And Dimity says silver would need cleaning.'
'What about a piece of glass?' suggested Isobel who was sitting in the window-seat, doing the crossword.
'Such as?'
'Well, a nice Waterford fruit bowl, or a decanter. Dorothy has a little tipple now and again, and Agnes says she "sometimes indulges", so it would be used.'
'I should see how much is contributed,' said Harold sensibly, 'and then decide. You might find that you get a hefty sum and then you could give a cheque as well. I take it that you are combining with the Parent-Teacher association in this?'
'That was the idea.'
'And the church members, I suppose, will give their own present?'
'That's what we thought. After all, a great many of the parents attend chapel or, sadly, no place of worship at all, so the church's offering will be separate. We thought that perhaps a book token, or something for their new garden, might be appropriate.'
'But they haven't got a house yet,' pointed out Isobel, 'let alone a garden.'
The rector sighed. 'It really is a problem. Of course we must fix our dates for the little parties and the presentations and that alone is fraught with difficulties in the summer months, what with bazaars, and garden parties, and fêtes. Every weekend in July and August seems to get booked up by February, if you follow me.'
'We do indeed,' said Harold.
'If need be,' went on Charles, looking distracted, 'we can have these occasions at Lulling Vicarage, but it's such a truly Thrush Green affair that I feel we should have things arranged here.'
'If you want a garden you are very welcome to this one,' said Harold. 'Otherwise, what's wrong with the school itself?'
'Thank you, my dear fellow. You have been a great help, and I feel that I can make a few suggestions to the managers - I mean, governors - when I meet them. We are having a private meeting next week at the vicarage to sort things out.'
Harold accompanied him down the path.
The rector looked at the village school next door. 'I wish they weren't going,' he lamented.
'Don't we all,' responded Harold.
A few days later, the committee of the Parent-Teacher association also met to pool ideas. This was held at a house belonging to the Gibbons along the road to Nod and Nidden.
Mr and Mrs Gibbons were newcomers to village life and, as they were anxious to play their part in Thrush Green affairs, they were heartily welcomed, and very soon found that they were chairmen, secretaries, treasurers and general servants to an alarming number of local activities.
Mrs Gibbons had been chief secretary to a firm of exporters in the City of London, and retained her drive, industry, and, to be frank, her formidable bossiness, in this her new place of abode. Half the residents of Thrush Green were afraid of her. The other half viewed her activities with amused tolerance, and wondered how soon she would tire of all the responsibilities so gladly heaped upon her by the lazier inhabitants of the village.
Her husband's business seemed shrouded in mystery,
Respect and affection for the two hard-working spinsters united all these bodies, and it was generally agreed that some appropriate tribute should be paid. Dimity's suggestion of 'a bunfight and a clock' rather summed up the general feeling but it was expressed more elegantly, and at much greater length, when the various committees gathered together to come to a decision.
Charles Henstock, as chairman of the school managers - or governors , as he tried to remember they were now designated - consulted his old friend Harold Shoosmith before approaching his fellow managers.
'Have you any ideas, Harold? Dimity suggests money - but somehow I feel that might not be acceptable. I rather favour a nice piece of silver. Perhaps a salver?'
'Does anyone ever use a salver?'
'I suppose not,' replied Charles doubtfully. 'And Dimity says silver would need cleaning.'
'What about a piece of glass?' suggested Isobel who was sitting in the window-seat, doing the crossword.
'Such as?'
'Well, a nice Waterford fruit bowl, or a decanter. Dorothy has a little tipple now and again, and Agnes says she "sometimes indulges", so it would be used.'
'I should see how much is contributed,' said Harold sensibly, 'and then decide. You might find that you get a hefty sum and then you could give a cheque as well. I take it that you are combining with the Parent-Teacher association in this?'
'That was the idea.'
'And the church members, I suppose, will give their own present?'
'That's what we thought. After all, a great many of the parents attend chapel or, sadly, no place of worship at all, so the church's offering will be separate. We thought that perhaps a book token, or something for their new garden, might be appropriate.'
'But they haven't got a house yet,' pointed out Isobel, 'let alone a garden.'
The rector sighed. 'It really is a problem. Of course we must fix our dates for the little parties and the presentations and that alone is fraught with difficulties in the summer months, what with bazaars, and garden parties, and fêtes. Every weekend in July and August seems to get booked up by February, if you follow me.'
'We do indeed,' said Harold.
'If need be,' went on Charles, looking distracted, 'we can have these occasions at Lulling Vicarage, but it's such a truly Thrush Green affair that I feel we should have things arranged here.'
'If you want a garden you are very welcome to this one,' said Harold. 'Otherwise, what's wrong with the school itself?'
'Thank you, my dear fellow. You have been a great help, and I feel that I can make a few suggestions to the managers - I mean, governors - when I meet them. We are having a private meeting next week at the vicarage to sort things out.'
Harold accompanied him down the path.
The rector looked at the village school next door. 'I wish they weren't going,' he lamented.
'Don't we all,' responded Harold.
A few days later, the committee of the Parent-Teacher association also met to pool ideas. This was held at a house belonging to the Gibbons along the road to Nod and Nidden.
Mr and Mrs Gibbons were newcomers to village life and, as they were anxious to play their part in Thrush Green affairs, they were heartily welcomed, and very soon found that they were chairmen, secretaries, treasurers and general servants to an alarming number of local activities.
Mrs Gibbons had been chief secretary to a firm of exporters in the City of London, and retained her drive, industry, and, to be frank, her formidable bossiness, in this her new place of abode. Half the residents of Thrush Green were afraid of her. The other half viewed her activities with amused tolerance, and wondered how soon she would tire of all the responsibilities so gladly heaped upon her by the lazier inhabitants of the village.
Her husband's business seemed shrouded in mystery,
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