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THE VERGER

W. Somerset Maugham

Albert Edward Foreman stood in a respectful but dignified
attitude. He had been a servant before he was appointed verger, but
only in very good houses. Starting as a page-boy in the house of a
rich merchant, he had risen by degrees to the position of butler in the
house of a retired ambassador till the vacancy occured at the church.
He was tall, thin, grave and dignified. He looked, if not like a duke, at
least like an actor of the old school who specialised in duke's parts.
He had tact, firmness and self-assurance. His character was
unimpeachable.
Now he stood in the hall where he had been invited by the new
vicar, a red-faced energetic man of about forty years old. Albert
Edward was surprised to find the two churchwardens there.
The vicar began briskly.
"Foreman, we've got something unpleasant to say to you.
You've been here many years and you've fulfilled the duties of your
office to the satisfaction of everybody concerned".
The two churchwardens nodded.
"But a most extraordinary circumstance came to my knowledge
the other day and I felt it my duty to impart it to the churchwardens. I
discovered to my astonishment that you could neither read nor write."
The expression of the verger's face did not change.
"The last vicar knew that, sir," he replied. "He said it made no
difference."
"Do you want to say," cried one of the churchwardens, "that
you've been verger of this church for sixteen years and never learned
to read or write?"
"I became a servant when I was twelve, sir. The cook in the
first place tried to teach me once, but I didn't have any talent for it,
and later on I never had the time or need to learn it."
"But don't you want to know the news?" said the other
churchwarden. "Don't you ever want to write a letter?"
"No, sir. They have many pictures in the papers so I know
what's going on very well. If I want to write a letter my wife writes it
for me."