Chapter 2 Second sexton

There was a baptism in St. Peter's Church on Neville Square in the afternoon, so Albert.Edward.Foreman was still wearing his sexton's robes.He always wore new gowns for funerals or weddings (the fashionable always chose St. Peter's for these ceremonies).Today, the one he wears is slightly older than the new one.Wearing this robe, he felt proud, because it was a sign of the dignity of his position, which was hard won.He always had to do the folding and ironing of the robes himself.He has been a sexton in this church for sixteen years, and he has had many such robes, but he never refuses to throw away the old robes. All the robes are neatly wrapped in kraft paper and stored in In the drawer under the bedroom wardrobe.

The sexton hurried to and fro in silence: replacing the stained wooden lid on the baptismal marble font; sending back the chair brought for a crippled old woman.Now all that was left was to wait for the pastor to come out of the locker room so he could tidy up the place and go home.Presently he saw the priest cross the altar, bend his knees before the high altar, and come down the side aisle.However, his black robe was still on. What is he still dawdling about?The sexton said to himself, doesn't he know that it's time for me to go back and have a cup of tea? The pastor was a recently ordained man in his forties, ruddy and energetic.And Albert.Edward still felt sorry for the previous pastor, who was an old-school priest who never made a fuss, unlike the current one who had a hand in everything.But Albert.Edward is very reserved.St. Peter's Church is unique, and the surrounding residents are all upper-class figures.The new pastor was from the East End, and it was impossible to expect him to adapt to the gentle manners of those upper-class churchmen at once.

So busy all day, Albert.Edward said, however, as long as he is given time, he can learn. Soon, he saw the pastor approaching. Sir, can you come into the small auditorium, I have something to talk to you about. yes sir. The pastor waited for him to come.When we boarded the altar together, the sexton said: I think today's christening went well, sir.It's strange how the baby doesn't cry when you hug it. I also noticed that this is indeed the case. The pastor smiled slightly. After so many years of practice, he is very familiar with this matter. He was really proud of being able to stop the baby from crying almost every time he picked him up in his own way.He was not unaware that the baby's mother and nurse watched him with a mixture of curiosity and admiration as he placed the baby in the arms of his surplice.The sexton knew he liked compliments on his talents.

They walked along the church together, the pastor will Albert.Edward.Foreman ushered them into the chapel.Albert.Edward was a little surprised to see there were two church deacons here, but he didn't see them coming in.The two deacons nodded kindly to him. Good afternoon, sir.Good afternoon, sir.He greeted them one by one. Both are elders, and they are almost as deacon as Albert.Edward.Foreman was as long as a sexton.They were seated now at the fine table the original priest had brought from Italy many years before, and the priest took the chair that had been vacated between them.Albert faced them, with the table between him and them, wondering uncomfortably what was going on.He also remembered the trouble the organ player had caused and how hard it was to calm things down afterwards.There is no room for scandal in a place like St. Peter's.The pastor's face was full of peace, while the other two showed a little panic.

He must have been urging them to do something, but they were reluctant.The secretary thought to himself, that must be the case, just wait and see. However, Albert did not show his thoughts on his face.He stood with a gesture of humility and dignity.He had been a servant before he became a sexton, but in very respectable families.At first he was a servant in a wealthy merchant; he rose to the position of steward in the house of a widowed lady; when the vacancy of the sexton at St. people.He was tall, lean, poised and dignified.He looked, if not a duke, at least like an old-fashioned actor playing dukes.He is mature, determined, confident, and impeccable in every move.

The pastor spoke brightly. Secretary Foreman, there are some things that we really don't want to tell you.You have been here for so many years and have performed your responsibilities satisfactorily. The two deacons nodded. However, the other day I became aware of an extraordinary circumstance, which I felt obliged to inform our deacon.That is, I am very surprised to find that you can neither read nor write. There was no sign of embarrassment on the verger's face. The pastor knew this, sir.He replied that he said it didn't matter, that he often said that sometimes the world was too educated, in his opinion.

This is the most astonishing thing I have ever heard in my life, the chief deacon shouted, you mean, you have been a sexton of this church for sixteen years, but you have never learned to read and write? Your Excellency, I have been a servant since I was twelve years old.The cook at the beginning tried to teach me, but I don't seem to be very good at it.I never had time after that, and I never really wanted to learn.I think a lot of young people these days spend so much time reading that they could do something useful with that time. But don't you want to know the news?Another deacon said, Don't you ever write letters?

No, sir, although I cannot read, I manage these things well.The newspapers are full of pictures now, and I can see what's going on just by looking at them.My wife is a learned person. If I want to write a letter, I can ask my wife to write it for me. The two deacons cast a resigned glance at the pastor, then looked down at the table. Well, Foreman, I've discussed this with two gentlemen who, like me, think it's absolutely wrong.A sexton who can neither read nor write cannot be employed in a church like St. Peter's. Albert.Edward's thin, pale face flushed, and he moved uncomfortably, but did not answer.

You must understand, sexton, that I do not mean to accuse you.Your work is very satisfactory.I have the highest regard for your character and ability.But it is a matter of prudence and a matter of principle that we have no right to take the risk of accidents which may result from our lamentable ignorance. But, Foreman, can't you learn?asked the chief deacon. no sir.By now, I'm afraid I can't.You see I'm no longer young, and if I couldn't get these words into my head as a child, I think it's even more difficult now. Foreman, it's not that we want to be hard on you, the pastor said, but the deacons and I have made up our minds.We will give you three months, and if you cannot read or write by then, I am afraid that you will have to leave.

Albert never liked the priest.He said at the outset that it had been a mistake to hand over St. Peter to him.He wasn't the kind of man that high-society churchgoers needed.He straightened up slightly after hearing the pastor's words.He's self-aware, and now he feels a little more relaxed. I am very sorry, sir, and I am afraid to say that it does me no good.My old bones can't accept new things.I've lived most of my life without being able to read or write, and I've had a good life, and if I could learn it, I don't necessarily want to. In that case, sexton, I'm afraid you'll have to go.

Yes, sir, I understand that I will gladly hand in my resignation as soon as I find someone who can take my place. However, when Albert.After Edward had closed the church door with his usual courtesy after the priest and deacons had left, he could no longer maintain the solemnity.His lips were trembling slightly.He returned to the chapel and hung the sexton's robe on the coat rack.He sighed as he thought of all the funerals and weddings he had seen here.He tidied everything up, put on his jacket, hat in hand, and walked out of the church.He locked the church door behind him, and wandered across the square, and in deep sorrow he did not go the way home, where strong and good tea awaited him, but he turned in the wrong direction .He walked very slowly, with a very heavy heart, and he didn't know what to do with himself in the future.He didn't want to think about the idea of ​​being someone else's servant again.Having been independent for so many years, he can no longer serve others.He had saved a sum of money, but not enough to live on for life, and the cost of living increased every year.He never expected to encounter such trouble.The sexton of St. Peter's Church, like the Pope of Rome, is for his whole life.Albert didn't smoke or drink, but he made allowances for having a beer with dinner and a cigarette when he felt tired.At this moment, he felt that if he had a cigarette, it might give him a little comfort.Since he never brought cigarettes with him, he looked around to see where he could buy a pack.He didn't see a shop selling cigarettes, so he walked down.This is a long road with all kinds of shops, but there are no cigarettes. It's kind of weird.Albert.Edward said. To prove this, he walked the streets again.No, there is no doubt about it.He stopped and surveyed the street thoughtfully. I won't be the only one who walks down the street and thinks of smoking, he said, and I'm sure if someone opens a little shop here, dealing in tobacco and sweets and whatnot, there's money to be made. He was startled suddenly. That's a good idea, he said, and it's kind of weird how ideas always come to you when you least expect them. He turned away, walked home, and drank his tea. Albert, why are you so silent this afternoon?said his wife. I'm thinking about the problem.He said. He thought the matter over, and the next day he went down the street, and was lucky enough to find a shop to let.Twenty-four hours later, he took the shop down, and a month later, a shop selling cigarettes, books and newspapers opened.His wife said that after all those years as sexton of St. Peter's, it was a real let down.But he believes that people must change with the times, and besides, the church is no longer what it used to be. Albert is doing very well.He did a good job, because after a year or so, he thought why not open a second store and get someone to run it?So he went to look for a long street without a cigarette shop, and sure enough, he found such a street with a shop that could be rented out, so he rented it and started to operate it.This time he did it again.In other words, since we can open two, we can open five or six.He began to walk all over London, and as long as he found a long street without a cigarette shop but a shop to let, he rented it.In this way, in ten years, he opened no less than ten stores in a row and made a lot of money.Every Monday, he went to various shops by himself, collected all the money received in a week and deposited it in the bank. One morning, as he was handing in bundles of banknotes and a large bag of silver coins, a bank teller told him that their manager wanted to see him.He was ushered into an office, and the manager shook his hand. Mr. Foreman, I want to talk to you about this money you deposited in our bank.Do you know how many of them there are? Not exactly to a pound or two, but I have a figure, sir. Excluding what you deposited this morning, the total is a little over 30,000 pounds.This is a large deposit, and I think if you use it to invest, the returns will be even greater. I don't want to take any chances, sir.I know it's safest to put it in the bank. You don't have to worry about it, we will help you convert it into rock-solid securities.This will be much higher than the interest paid by the bank. A look of doubt appeared on Mr. Foreman's rich face.I have never touched stocks and dividends, I just want to put the money in your hands. The manager smiled.We will do everything for you.You only need to sign the subpoena in the future. I can do that, said Albert without doubt, but how do I know what I'm signing? I think you will never fail to read.the manager said in a slightly sarcastic tone. Mr. Foreman gave him a reassuring smile. Oh, sir, that's exactly what happened.I know it sounds funny, but I can't really read or write, I can only sign my name, and that's something I only learned when I started a business. Startled, the manager jumped out of his chair. This is the most extraordinary thing I have ever heard in my life. You know, it's like this, sir, I never got a chance to learn, and it was too late in the end.Somehow I don't want to learn.I'm a bit stubborn. The manager stared at him dumbfounded, as if he were some prehistoric monster. You mean, you set up such a large business, and made thirty thousand pounds, and yet you couldn't read or write?My goodness, my good man, if you could read and write, what would you be now? I can tell you, sir, said Mr. Foreman, with a smile on his still dignified face.Then I'd still be sexton at St. Peter's, Neville Square.