The Problem at Two Tithes (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 7) by Clara Benson Read Free Book Online

playing is somewhat rusty and the quality cannot be guaranteed, I am afraid. Still, we must all clap loudly and encourage them as much as possible.’
    Angela promised to do her best, and shortly afterwards returned to duty. Her efforts had been so successful that by half past three her stall was looking very bare. The brass band was due to start playing at any moment, and she thought she might take a few minutes off to go and watch it, since she judged there was unlikely to be any urgent and last-minute demand for the cracked china shepherdess or the dented pewter tankard which were all that remained to be sold. She saw Humphrey and Elisabeth sitting in the front row of seats and went to join them. Elisabeth was looking crosser than usual.
    ‘Well, at least you’re still here, Angela,’ she said. ‘Margaret Tipping has disappeared so I’ve had to leave the cake stall unattended. I don’t suppose you’ve seen her, have you?’
    ‘Not lately,’ said Angela. ‘Can’t Kathie help?’
    ‘I can’t find her either,’ said Elisabeth. ‘But we’ll be finishing soon and I do hope they aren’t trying to get out of the clearing-up. There’s such a lot to do.’
    The band struck up then and they had to stop talking and pay attention. Angela did her best to enjoy it, but it was evident that the musicians had not rehearsed enough, for they made more than one false start—and indeed, at one point the vicar, a stringy little man who was the physical opposite to his wife, seemed to be playing an entirely different tune from the rest of them. As Humphrey had said, Mr. Hunter was rather rusty, and his face grew purple with the effort of getting a note out of his trumpet. Mrs. Hunter, who was sitting on Angela’s other side, was quite obviously tone deaf and was enjoying it immensely, for she applauded loudly after every number.
    ‘Bravo! Bravo!’ she called. ‘Stephen’s musical ability was one of the things I loved about him as a young man,’ she confided to Angela. ‘It’s very gratifying to see that he has lost none of it.’
    At last the band ran out of puff and the audience began to disperse. It would soon be time for everyone to go home, but first there were raffles to draw and prizes to award, with Sir Humphrey and Lady Cardew doing the honours. Angela clapped politely when called upon to do so, but then was button-holed by Mrs. Hunter, and was standing to one side in conversation with her when she heard her name announced. She turned to find Mr. Toft standing before her, clasping something in his arms that squealed and wriggled.
    ‘Eighteen pounds, four and a half ounces,’ he said.
    ‘What?’ said Angela.
    ‘Eighteen pounds, four and a half ounces,’ he said again.
    ‘You’ve won the guess the weight of the pig competition,’ said Mrs. Hunter with a malicious smile.
    ‘Really?’ said Angela. ‘But my guess was nowhere near that.’
    ‘Fourteen entries altogether. Yours was the nearest,’ said Mr. Toft. ‘Here.’ He took a step towards her and made as if to hand her the struggling animal. Angela stepped back in a panic.
    ‘Do you mean I win the pig ?’ she exclaimed in horror. ‘I thought the prize would be a jar of jam or something.’
    ‘No,’ said Mr. Toft, with a withering look. ‘Guess the weight of the pig. You win the pig.’
    Then without further ado he pushed the piglet into her arms and walked off.
    ‘But what shall I do with it?’ cried Angela at his retreating back. The pig had its own ideas on that subject. No sooner had it been handed to its new owner than it began to scrabble wildly at her frock with its muddy feet. It then stuck its bristly snout into her face, gave a tremendous squeal and with one giant leap was out of her arms and heading straight for the tea tent.
    ‘Quick, catch it!’ cried Elisabeth. There followed several minutes of confusion as people variously leapt out of the pig’s way or tried to stop it as it passed. But the animal had quite a turn of