Even then, and for months later, he missed to recognise Corona's share in it. What was she but a child?

"Is it true what I hear?" asked Mrs. Royle, intercepting him one day as he carried his plate of fast-cooling meat from the kitchen.

"Probably not," said Brother Copas.

"They tell me Bonaday's daughter has been singled out among all the school children--Greycoats and others--to be Queen of the May, or something of the kind, in this here Pageant."

"Yes, that is a fact."

"Oh! . . . I suppose it's part of your sneering way to make little of it. _I_ call it an honour to St. Hospital."

"The deuce you do?"

"And what's more," added Mrs. Royle, "she mustn't let us down by appearing in rags."

"I hope we can provide against that."

"What I meant to say," the woman persisted, "was that you men don't probably understand. If there's to be a dance, or any such caper, she'll be lifting her skirts. Well, for the credit of St. Hospital, I'd like to overhaul the child's under-clothing, and see that she goes shipshape and Bristol fashion."

Brother Copas thanked her. He began to perceive that Mrs. Royle, that detestable woman, had her good points--or, at any rate, her soft spot.

It became embarra.s.sing, though, when Mrs. Clerihew accosted him next day with a precisely similar request.

"And I might mention," added Mrs. Clerihew, "that I have a lace stomacher-frill which was gove to me by no less than the late honourable Edith, fifth daughter of the second Baron Glantyre.

She died unmarried, previous to which she used frequently to _h_onour me with her confidence. This being a historical occasion, I'd spare it."

Yes; it was true. Corona was to be a Queen, among many, in the Merchester Pageant.

It all happened through Mr. Simeon.

Mr. Simeon's children had, one and all, gone for their education to the Greycoats' School, which lies just beyond the west end of the Cathedral. He loved to think of them as growing up within its shadow. . . . One Tuesday at dinner the five-year-old Agatha popped out a question--

"Daddy, if the Cafederal fell down while we were in school, would it fall on top of us?"

"G.o.d forbid, child. But why ask such a question?"

"Because when we went to school this morning some workpeople had dug a hole, close by that end--quite a big pit it was. So I went near the edge to look down, and one of the men said, 'Take care, missy, or you'll tumble in and be drowned.' I told him that I knew better, because people couldn't build cafederals on water. He told me that was the way they had built ours, and he held my hand for me to have a look. He was right, too. The pit was half-full of water.

He said that unless we looked sharp the whole Cafederal would come down on our heads. . . . I don't think it's safe for me to go to school any more, do you?" insinuated small Agatha.

Now it chanced that Mr. Simeon had to visit the Greycoats that very afternoon. He had written a little play for the children--boys and girls--to act at Christmas. It was not a play of the sort desiderated by Mrs. Simeon--the sort to earn forty thousand pounds in royalties; nor, to speak accurately, had he written it. He had in fact patched together a few artless scenes from an old Miracle Play-- _The Life of Saint Meriadoc_--discovered by him in the Venables Library; and had tinkered out some rhymes (the book being a prose translation from the Breton original). "A poor thing," then, and very little of it his own--but Miss Champernowne opined that it would be a novelty, while the children enjoyed the rehearsals, and looked forward to the fun of "dressing-up."

Rehearsals were held twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, in the last hour of the afternoon session. This afternoon, on his way to the school, Mr. Simeon found that Agatha had indeed spoken truth.

Five or six men were busy, digging, probing, sounding, around a large hole close under the northeast corner of the Lady Chapel.

The foreman wore a grave face, and in answer to Mr. Simeon's inquiries allowed that the mischief was serious; so serious that the Dean and Chapter had sent for a diver to explore the foundations and report. The foreman further pointed out certain ominous cracks in the masonry overhead.

Just then the great clock chimed, warning Mr. Simeon away. . . .

But the peril of his beloved Cathedral so haunted him that he arrived at the school-door as one distraught.

Rehearsal always took place in the girls' schoolroom, the boys coming in from their part of the building to clear the desks away and arrange them close along the walls. They were busy at it when he entered. He saw: but--

"He heeded not--his eyes Were with his heart,"

And that was in the Close outside--anthi, phile en patridi gaie.

From the start he allowed the rehearsal to get hopelessly out of hand. The children took charge; they grew more and more fractious, unruly. Miss Champernowne chid them in vain. The schoolroom, in fact, was a small pandemonium, when of a sudden the door opened and two visitors entered--Mr. Colt and Mr. Isidore Bamberger.

"A--ach so!" intoned Mr. Isidore, and at the sound of his appalling guttural Babel hushed itself, unable to compete. He inquired what was going forward; was told; and within five minutes had the children moving through their parts in perfect discipline, while with a fire of cross-questions he shook Mr. Simeon back to his senses and rapidly gathered the outline of the play. He terrified all.

"Bardon my interference, ma'am!" he barked, addressing Miss Champernowne. "I haf a burbose."

The scene engaging the children was that of the youthful St. Meriadoc's first school-going; where his parents (Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Brittany) call with him upon a pedagogue, who introduces him to the boys and girls, his fellow scholars. For a sample of Mr. Simeon's version--

Pedagogue--

"Children look on your books.

If there be any whispering It will be great hindering, And there will be knocks."

First Scholar (_chants_)--

"G.o.d bless A, Band C!

The rest of the song is D: That is all my lore.

I came late yesterday, I played truant by my fay!

I am a foul sinner.

Good master, after dinner I will learn more."

Second Scholar--

"E, s, t, that is _est_, I know not what comes next--"

Whilst the scholars recited thus, St. Meriadoc's father and mother-- each with a train of attendants--walked up and down between the ranks 'high and disposedly,' as became a Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Brittany.

Mr. Isidore of a sudden threw all into confusion again. He shot out a forefinger and screamed--yes, positively screamed--

"Ach! zat is ze child--ze fourt' from ze end! I will haf her and no ozzer--you onderstandt?" Here he swung about upon the Chaplain.

"Ob-serf how she walk! how she carry her chin! If I haf not her for ze May Queen I will haf non. . . . Step vorwards, liddle one.

Whad is your name?"

"Corona."

Seeing that Mr. Isidore's finger pointed at her, she stepped forward, with a touch of defiance in her astonishment, but fearlessly.

The touch of defiance helped to tilt her chin at the angle he so much admired.

"Cohrona--zat must mean ze chrowned one. Cabital! . . . You are not afraid of me, _hein_?"

"No," answered Corona simply, still wondering what he might mean, but keeping a steady eye on him. Why should she be afraid of this comic little man?

"So? . . . I engage you. You are to be ze May Queen in ze great Merchester Bageant. . . . But you must be goot and attend how I drill you. Ozzerwise I dismees you."