Nothing That Meets the Eye by Patricia Highsmith Page A

eggs.
    â€œWill I ever forget!” Edith shrieked, bringing her hands down gently on her knees. “I still say Billy Reed switched them on us. He’s the same rascal today he always was.”
    â€œThose were happy old days, weren’t they?” Mildred said vaguely, wondering if she shouldn’t perhaps cook the eggs even longer. She made a start for the kitchen and changed her mind.
    â€œMillie, do you think it’s really worth it to live in New York?” Edith asked suddenly.
    â€œWorth it? How do you mean worth it?—I suppose I earn fairly good money.” She didn’t mean to sound superior to her sister, but she was proud of her independence. “I’m able to save a little, too.”
    â€œI mean, it’s such a hard life you lead and all, being away from the family. New York’s so unfriendly, and no trees to look at or anything. I think you’re more nervous than you were two years ago.”
    Mildred stared at her. Maybe New York had made her more nervous, quicker about things. But wasn’t she as happy and healthy as Edith? “They’re starting trees right here on Third Avenue. They’re pretty small yet, but tomorrow you can see them.—I don’t think it’s such an unfriendly town,” she went on defensively. “Why, just this afternoon, I heard the delicatessen man talking with a woman about— And even the plumber—” She broke off, knowing she wouldn’t be able to express what she meant.
    â€œWell, I don’t know,” Edith said, twiddling her hands limply in her lap. “My last trip here, I asked a policeman where the Radio City Music Hall was, and you’d have thought I was asking him to map me a way to the North Pole or something, he seemed so put out about it. Nobody’s got time for anybody else—have they?” Her voice trailed off, and she looked at Mildred for an answer.
    Mildred moistened her lips. Something in her struggled slowly and painfully to the surface. “I—I’ve always found our policemen very courteous. Maybe yours was a traffic officer or something. They’re pretty busy, of course. But New York policemen are famous for their courtesy, especially to out-of-towners. Why, they even call them New York’s Finest!” A tingle of civic pride swept over her. She remembered the morning she had stood in the rain at Forty-second Street and Fifth Avenue and watched the companies of policemen—New York’s Finest—march down the avenue. And the mounted policemen! How handsome they had looked, row upon row with their horses’ hoofs clattering! She had stood there not caring that she was all by herself then, or that the rain was soaking her, she felt so proud of her big city. A man with a little boy perched on his shoulder had turned around in the crowd and smiled at her, she remembered. “New York’s very friendly,” Mildred protested earnestly.
    â€œWell, maybe, but that’s not the way it seems to me.” Edith slipped off a shoe and rubbed her instep against the heel of her other foot. “And sister,” she continued in a more subdued tone, “I hope you’re not indulging more than you should.”
    Mildred’s eyes grew wide. “Do you mean drinking? Goodness, no! Why, at least I don’t think so. I just took these in your honor, Edie. Gracious, you don’t think I do this every night, do you?”
    â€œOh, I didn’t mean I thought that!” Edith said, forcing a smile.
    Mildred chewed her underlip and wondered whether she should think of some other excuse for herself, or let the matter drop.
    â€œYou know, Millie, I’d meant to speak to you about maybe coming back to Cleveland to live. Everybody’s talking about the interesting new jobs opening up there, and you’re not—well, so deep-fixed in this job that you couldn’t leave, are you?”
    â€œOf course, I could leave