She was suspended thus when the solution burst upon her. Not for nothing had she two sons and two sons-in-law, and a wonderful talent for catching likenesses. How much more interesting it would be, and how much more in keeping with the great age of religious art, to use her sons, James and Daniel, and her sons-in-law, Pollock and Harold, for the Evangelists. In a second revelation, she knew that Mark must be Pollock, for Mark was the only Evangelist she could imagine with a moustache.

She set to work, and by the next day four portrait sketches enlivened the halos, for which, in order to achieve perfect circularity, she had used a basin.

‘Dear me,’ said Geoffrey, peering in. ‘Dear me! I hope they won’t mind.’

‘Mind? Why, who should mind what? They’ll infinitely prefer it to those battered old Commandments.’

‘I was only wondering how Pollock would take it. Army men are sensitive. I don’t suppose Harold will object—you’ve made him extremely handsome, my dear—and, of course, James and Daniel will think nothing of it. I mean, it won’t surprise them in the least. They’ll be delighted, I’m sure. But Pollock … I admit to feeling a little dubious about Pollock.’237

‘I think he’s the best of the lot,’ said Florence.

‘Oh, yes, he is. Undoubtedly he is. And, of course, he’ll have a lion. That will please him. He’s shot several. I could never willingly shoot a lion myself.’

Saint Mark might be the best likeness, but Saint Luke was by far the most admired when the finished reredos was set in its place and burst on the congregation for Whitsunday. Such a handsome Evangelist had never been suspected in Woodham Garnish—such flashing eyes, such regular features, and looking, so to speak, such a real gentleman. For, at the time of painting, Harold was very much Florence’s favoured son-in-law. The cult spread. During the next twelvemonth, several children were christened Luke on the strength of him. The mother triumphing over the artist, Florence touched up Matthew and John a little and, while she was about it, added some ten years to Mark’s age, for Pollock was being rather trying just then, always catching colds and backing the wrong horses, till Cecily was quite fagged out with nursing and economizing. Not that Cecily complained. It was the younger daughter, Rosalind, who complained. Like other wives of very handsome husbands, Rosalind was apt to feel herself neglected, and she had enough of Florence in her to resent being Harold’s third leg. Rosalind had even gone so far as to say, her tone of acrimony only slightly disguised by her mouth being full of moss (for, having come down with the children for Easter, she was helping to decorate the church), ‘If you knew Harold as well as I do, Mother, I don’t think you’d put him in an altarpiece.’238

Evading the main issue, Florence replied, ‘How disobliging daffodils are! It would be quite easy to alter him, if you don’t like him as he is. I’ve made several changes in Saint Mark, and your father thinks they’ve been the making of him.’