the vicar felt only a slight trepidation as he approached “the meadows”.
“the meadows” was the stately ancestral home of lord mollifield, and his charming wife lady mollifield. lady mollifield was known far and wide and beloved by the nickname “lady molly”, though perhaps not quite so beloved or known so widely as she and her faithful admirers, such as the vicar, liked to believe.
the vicar was calling on lady molly to ask her to make a donation toward restoring one of the stained glass windows in the chapel, which had been damaged during some of the recent unpleasantness.
dusk was falling, and bats flying around the branches of the great beech tree in front of the main house.
lady molly was holding court on the verandah, as she did almost every evening when the weather permitted it.
the vicar was admitted to her presence without ceremony, and, there being no other petitioners or acolytes present, took his comfortable seat on her right hand.
the vicar was asked as a matter of form if he would like a cup of tea and a biscuit, and he indicated that it would be his pleasure.
“so, what is it to be this time, reverend?“ lady molly asked when the vicar was settled. “have you come to give me some money?” this was one of lady molly’s recurring little jokes, and the vicar chuckled and played along.
“no,” the vicar smiled. “i thought this time around you could give me a small sum. for a good cause, of course.”
“you don’t say so? and what is the good cause this time?”
the vicar knew that lady molly liked him to get right to the point at this stage. “to restore the stained glass windows at the chapel. especially the one of st wenceslas and little red riding hood ascending to heaven as the big bad wolf howls at them. as you know, they were seriously damaged during the recent - unfortunate events.”
“the peasants uprising, you mean,” lady molly replied. “and how much do you expect from me?”
at this point a maid arrived with the vicar’s tea and biscuit, and he waited until she had departed before answering.
“i thought two thousand pounds would be a reasonable sum.”
“two thousand pounds! my dear vicar, you can not be serious.” lady molly seemed genuinely surprised, not just playing her usual game. “what world are you living in? do you not keep up wth the news?”
it was the vicar’s turn to be genuinely confused. “but - surely the recent unpleasantness is over, and life can be resumed as before - has, in fact been resumed as before, has it not? all due to the splendid efforts of general watson-tyler, the glory of whose victories will ring forever down the centuries.”
“yes, that is all very well, but if you were paying attention you might notice that the world - and the funds, the funds, my dear friend, are still jumping around like jackrabbits.”
“why, in places like america and atlantis perhaps, but not here in little wiggery! in litte wiggery, all is back to normal, as it always has been and always will be. the miller will grind his grain, the smith will shoe his mare, the sheep will munch his blade of grass, the innkeeper will pour his glass. the sexton will pass the plate, and - the lady of the manor will keep up the plate glass window, eh?”
lady molly laughed. “very good, vicar, very good. tell me, how do you like your biscuit?”
“why - it’s quite tasty, as always.”
“i am glad to hear it, especially as it was baked in, and imported from, the new empire of gondwanaland.”
“be that as it may, i found no fault with it,” the vicar replied. he then fell silent, appearing to be at a loss for words.
lady molly leaned back in her comfortable chair. “look here, my friend, do you really want two thousand pounds?”
“i most certainly do.”
“then i have a way for you get them. but you will have to earn them.”
the vicar repressed a sigh. “if that is what it takes. what would you have me do?”
“i have three tasks for you. carry them out successfully, and you will have your two thousand pounds, for your stained glass windows, or for anything else you wish. now, listen carefully…”
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