badly behaved? You can be so pretentiously noble. I’ll wager Father is furious.” She hit the egg with her spoon; when a thin spurt of yolk shot upward, she exclaimed in annoyance.
“Sounds like I missed something interesting,” Jonathan said as a servant began to pour him a cup of coffee and then rushed instead to Daisy’s side, murmuring apologies.
“I want a
six
-minute egg,” Daisy complained. “Not a
five
-minute egg, for heaven’s sake. Hasn’t the cook got that right yet?”
The maid took the egg cup, vanishing into the kitchen. Samuel watched her go, then stared at the morning light dancing over the fresh breakfast cloth, producing prisms of color.
“Daisy, this isn’t like you,” he began gently.
“Please don’t start on all that again,” she interrupted. “I’m just not going to try to defend myself to you anymore. I hate my life, and that’s all there is to it.” There were tears in her eyes as she pushed back from the table, pulling the soft belt of her morning gown close, and left the room.
“Poor Samuel, you really take it on the chin from us, don’t you?” Jonathan chuckled as he reached for a slice of buttered toast on the table. “Now of course, with Daisy gone, you can lecture
me.
Go to it, Brother. You’d better hurry. I have things to do today.”
Here was that familiar feeling of being weighed down by something ponderous, forced into a role. Samuel stared at his own coffee cup, weary. “No lectures,” he said.
The brothers sat in silence.
I t felt good to be back. The other girls gathered around Alice, excited, laughing, filled with questions as they all sat down at their crowded table to eat pea soup and boiled corned beef.
What did she eat? What did the silver look like? Describe the dresses. Did you sleep on silk sheets?
She couldn’t disappoint them, and so she gave them bits of the fantasy they wanted, describing the chandelier in the dining room, the grand entrance, Daisy’s cameo.
“Was it like the pretty one you keep in a box?” Ellie asked.
“How do you know about that?” Alice asked in surprise.
“I’m sorry,” Ellie said, aware now all eyes were on her. “I saw a pretty box, and I peeked inside. Please don’t get mad; I never touched it.”
The child looked so chagrined, Alice felt sorry for her. “It was my mother’s,” she said. “I made it for her.”
“Why don’t you wear it?”
Alice smiled. “I don’t really know, but it reminds me of a happier time.”
The silence at the table was almost tender; all of them could remember other, happier times.
“And you know what? The one I made is prettier than hers.”
“Good,” Mary-o declared. “I don’t like her at all.”
The mood was broken, and all were cheery again. But Alice kept glancing toward the door. “Where’s Lovey?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Tilda said with a shrug. “We all know she’s usually here by now. Lovey’s not one to miss dinner.”
“Except when she’s having a bit of fun,” said Mrs. Holloway, putting a bowl of turnips and parsnips on the table. “I keep expecting her one of these days to up and go. She’s got a restless heart, that one.”
“Go?” Alice said, dismayed, putting down her fork. “She wouldn’t do that without telling us.”
Tilda patted her hand. “But she’s been here at this mill before and left without telling anyone and then showed up again. She’ll probably pop up in a few hours, it’s just her way.” Her voice turned wistful. “It does leave a gap when she’s not around.”
Alice stared at her bowl of soup. Lovey wouldn’t do that, even though she had her way of disappearing when she so chose. She might be off somewhere, but she’d be back for work in the morning. Wouldn’t she want a full report on the visit to the Fiske mansion?
That night Alice waited on the porch. After all were in bed and the boardinghouse was silent, she continued to wait. Once she thought she saw Lovey’s form hurrying
“Sounds like I missed something interesting,” Jonathan said as a servant began to pour him a cup of coffee and then rushed instead to Daisy’s side, murmuring apologies.
“I want a
six
-minute egg,” Daisy complained. “Not a
five
-minute egg, for heaven’s sake. Hasn’t the cook got that right yet?”
The maid took the egg cup, vanishing into the kitchen. Samuel watched her go, then stared at the morning light dancing over the fresh breakfast cloth, producing prisms of color.
“Daisy, this isn’t like you,” he began gently.
“Please don’t start on all that again,” she interrupted. “I’m just not going to try to defend myself to you anymore. I hate my life, and that’s all there is to it.” There were tears in her eyes as she pushed back from the table, pulling the soft belt of her morning gown close, and left the room.
“Poor Samuel, you really take it on the chin from us, don’t you?” Jonathan chuckled as he reached for a slice of buttered toast on the table. “Now of course, with Daisy gone, you can lecture
me.
Go to it, Brother. You’d better hurry. I have things to do today.”
Here was that familiar feeling of being weighed down by something ponderous, forced into a role. Samuel stared at his own coffee cup, weary. “No lectures,” he said.
The brothers sat in silence.
I t felt good to be back. The other girls gathered around Alice, excited, laughing, filled with questions as they all sat down at their crowded table to eat pea soup and boiled corned beef.
What did she eat? What did the silver look like? Describe the dresses. Did you sleep on silk sheets?
She couldn’t disappoint them, and so she gave them bits of the fantasy they wanted, describing the chandelier in the dining room, the grand entrance, Daisy’s cameo.
“Was it like the pretty one you keep in a box?” Ellie asked.
“How do you know about that?” Alice asked in surprise.
“I’m sorry,” Ellie said, aware now all eyes were on her. “I saw a pretty box, and I peeked inside. Please don’t get mad; I never touched it.”
The child looked so chagrined, Alice felt sorry for her. “It was my mother’s,” she said. “I made it for her.”
“Why don’t you wear it?”
Alice smiled. “I don’t really know, but it reminds me of a happier time.”
The silence at the table was almost tender; all of them could remember other, happier times.
“And you know what? The one I made is prettier than hers.”
“Good,” Mary-o declared. “I don’t like her at all.”
The mood was broken, and all were cheery again. But Alice kept glancing toward the door. “Where’s Lovey?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Tilda said with a shrug. “We all know she’s usually here by now. Lovey’s not one to miss dinner.”
“Except when she’s having a bit of fun,” said Mrs. Holloway, putting a bowl of turnips and parsnips on the table. “I keep expecting her one of these days to up and go. She’s got a restless heart, that one.”
“Go?” Alice said, dismayed, putting down her fork. “She wouldn’t do that without telling us.”
Tilda patted her hand. “But she’s been here at this mill before and left without telling anyone and then showed up again. She’ll probably pop up in a few hours, it’s just her way.” Her voice turned wistful. “It does leave a gap when she’s not around.”
Alice stared at her bowl of soup. Lovey wouldn’t do that, even though she had her way of disappearing when she so chose. She might be off somewhere, but she’d be back for work in the morning. Wouldn’t she want a full report on the visit to the Fiske mansion?
That night Alice waited on the porch. After all were in bed and the boardinghouse was silent, she continued to wait. Once she thought she saw Lovey’s form hurrying
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