The Gamekeeper's CottageWHILE Hilary Jackson sat in Mrs Chard's cool green and white drawing-room sipping a glass of lemon squash and listening to her hostess's ecstatic comments as she unpacked the parcel of jumble, the vicar of Fairacre was talking to Mr Mawne.The two men lay back in deck chairs in the shade of a fine copper beech tree which John Parr's great-grandfather had planted. Upon Mr Mawne's chest were lodged his binoculars which he frequently clapped to his eyes the better to observe some distant bird on the far side of the garden. Upon the vicar's chest lay his folded hands, pink and damp with the heat, and above them his mild old face looked aloft worriedly.'And Philpotts should know,' he was saying. 'He is one of the chaps on the rural district council, and a most reliable fellow.''Sh! Sh!' hissed his companion, adjusting his binoculars, and making his deck chair emit noises far more violent than his friend's gentle voice. The vicar was obediently quiet until the binoculars were lowered again.'And it means,' continued the vicar in a gusty whisper, 'that the rural district council have seen the plans, and there's no doubt about it that a school will be needed on the site.' He sighed heavily, and a blackbird rattled from a hawthorn tree, scolding and squawking madly.
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