leak. Everything leaks out of the bottoms of them. And the beds look soft, but really they’re not.”
“And the ground looks so far far far away,” Andy went on dreamily, “and you have to hold on tight.”
“And I rode on the little fire engine,” Anne said. “She wound it up for me and I rode around and around and around the playroom, and it’s miles and miles and miles…” Her voice faded.
“Swinging back and forth, up in the sky,” Andy said. His voice softened abruptly. “Up in the sky,” he said once more, and then all was quiet.
The new maid finished her washing, took the untouched soup bowls off the table in the dining room, and glanced into the living room, where Mr. and Mrs. Morgan sat on the couch holding hands and talking earnestly, and still laughing occasionally.
When the kitchen was clean and tidy, the new maid took off her apron and hung it up with a sigh. She went upstairs soundlessly, stopping at the room where Anne and Andy slept in identical positions. When she covered them, Anne said
“Graa?”
inquiringly, and Andy reassured her,
“Wssh.”
Then the new maid went back downstairs, still without sound on her small feet, to the room Mrs. Morgan had assigned her and, stopping now and then to smile wickedly to herself, began to pack.
French Is the Mark of a Lady
She came in very quietly, standing in the darkness of the huge polished room until I noticed her. She was very small, and her dark curls were tied up in a red bow. When she walked, the bow shook back and forth on her head.
“Hello,” I said to her politely.
“What do you want here?” she asked.
“I’ve come to see your mama.”
“My
mother
”—the emphasis was very marked—“is still dressing.”
“I know. I’m waiting for her.”
“Have you come about a charity?”
“No. I used to know your mother a long time ago, and now I’ve come to see her.”
“Did she invite you?”
“No.”
The red bow shook vigorously. “My mother doesn’t talk to people unless she invites them here.”
I was annoyed. “Nevertheless, I strongly suspect that your mother will be down to see me in a minute.”
“Oh.” Large dark eyes regarded me steadily. “Why do you want to see my mother?”
“I used to know her a long time ago.”
“How long?”
“Oh…ten years. Before you were born.”
“I’m eight.”
“I’ve known your mother since she was a little girl.”
The topic seemed to bore my companion. She stood perfectly still, her eyes looking over my shoulder. When I finished speaking, she looked at me again and said: “I’ve got a boyfriend.”
I didn’t laugh. “Aren’t you rather young?” I asked.
“No.”
I tried again. “What’s his name?”
“John. He drives a car.”
“How old is he?” I was a little startled.
“Thirty-three.” She nodded vigorously. “He drives me around.”
“That’s very convenient.”
“I need someone to drive me around,” she said, looking at me.
“Where do you have to go?”
“Everywhere.” She made a vague gesture with her hand. “I have to go around everywhere.”
A sudden thought struck me. “I suppose you have a great deal of charity work to do, like your mother.”
Her voice took on a heavy lifelessness. “It’s such a bore,” she sighed.
“But tell me about your boyfriend,” I said. “What else does he do besides drive you around?”
“He delivers ice,” she said.
I kept my face sober. “That must be very interesting.”
“Sometimes it is,” she said. “Sometimes it’s inconsistent.”
I thought. “Do you mean inconvenient?” I asked.
“Inconsistent,” she said firmly.
“Oh. Well, are you going to marry your boyfriend?”
“What?” she said blankly.
“No. Well…what does your mother think of him?”
“She thinks it’s good for me.”
“What, your having a boyfriend?”
“She says she used to ride on ice wagons when she was a girl.”
“She did,” I said. “I used to ride on them with her. But
“And the ground looks so far far far away,” Andy went on dreamily, “and you have to hold on tight.”
“And I rode on the little fire engine,” Anne said. “She wound it up for me and I rode around and around and around the playroom, and it’s miles and miles and miles…” Her voice faded.
“Swinging back and forth, up in the sky,” Andy said. His voice softened abruptly. “Up in the sky,” he said once more, and then all was quiet.
The new maid finished her washing, took the untouched soup bowls off the table in the dining room, and glanced into the living room, where Mr. and Mrs. Morgan sat on the couch holding hands and talking earnestly, and still laughing occasionally.
When the kitchen was clean and tidy, the new maid took off her apron and hung it up with a sigh. She went upstairs soundlessly, stopping at the room where Anne and Andy slept in identical positions. When she covered them, Anne said
“Graa?”
inquiringly, and Andy reassured her,
“Wssh.”
Then the new maid went back downstairs, still without sound on her small feet, to the room Mrs. Morgan had assigned her and, stopping now and then to smile wickedly to herself, began to pack.
French Is the Mark of a Lady
She came in very quietly, standing in the darkness of the huge polished room until I noticed her. She was very small, and her dark curls were tied up in a red bow. When she walked, the bow shook back and forth on her head.
“Hello,” I said to her politely.
“What do you want here?” she asked.
“I’ve come to see your mama.”
“My
mother
”—the emphasis was very marked—“is still dressing.”
“I know. I’m waiting for her.”
“Have you come about a charity?”
“No. I used to know your mother a long time ago, and now I’ve come to see her.”
“Did she invite you?”
“No.”
The red bow shook vigorously. “My mother doesn’t talk to people unless she invites them here.”
I was annoyed. “Nevertheless, I strongly suspect that your mother will be down to see me in a minute.”
“Oh.” Large dark eyes regarded me steadily. “Why do you want to see my mother?”
“I used to know her a long time ago.”
“How long?”
“Oh…ten years. Before you were born.”
“I’m eight.”
“I’ve known your mother since she was a little girl.”
The topic seemed to bore my companion. She stood perfectly still, her eyes looking over my shoulder. When I finished speaking, she looked at me again and said: “I’ve got a boyfriend.”
I didn’t laugh. “Aren’t you rather young?” I asked.
“No.”
I tried again. “What’s his name?”
“John. He drives a car.”
“How old is he?” I was a little startled.
“Thirty-three.” She nodded vigorously. “He drives me around.”
“That’s very convenient.”
“I need someone to drive me around,” she said, looking at me.
“Where do you have to go?”
“Everywhere.” She made a vague gesture with her hand. “I have to go around everywhere.”
A sudden thought struck me. “I suppose you have a great deal of charity work to do, like your mother.”
Her voice took on a heavy lifelessness. “It’s such a bore,” she sighed.
“But tell me about your boyfriend,” I said. “What else does he do besides drive you around?”
“He delivers ice,” she said.
I kept my face sober. “That must be very interesting.”
“Sometimes it is,” she said. “Sometimes it’s inconsistent.”
I thought. “Do you mean inconvenient?” I asked.
“Inconsistent,” she said firmly.
“Oh. Well, are you going to marry your boyfriend?”
“What?” she said blankly.
“No. Well…what does your mother think of him?”
“She thinks it’s good for me.”
“What, your having a boyfriend?”
“She says she used to ride on ice wagons when she was a girl.”
“She did,” I said. “I used to ride on them with her. But
Similar Books
