The Four Graces by D. E. Stevenson Page A

’alf starved—neglected, that’s what ’e was—nobody ’adn’t bothered their ’eads about the pore lamb, nobody ’adn’t even taught ’im to be good. What sort of a mother is that, Miss Sal?”
    Sal was silent. She agreed with Mrs. Element wholeheartedly.
    â€œYou’d ’ardly believe it,” continued Mrs. Element. “You’d ’ardly believe it, but when Bertie came to us ’e didn’t even know about Jesus. ‘Oo’s Jesus?’ ’e said to me. You’d ’ardly believe it, but it’s true. You ask Jim. Seven years old, ’e was, and knew nothing more than a black ’eathen…and now,” continued Mrs. Element earnestly. “Look at ’im now, Miss Sal; as nice a little chap as anyone would want to see, a reel little gentleman and clever as paint. Doing well at school and winning prizes for arithmetic…Look at ’im now, Miss Sal!”
    Sal knew it was all true—all and more—the Elements had made a splendid job of Bertie.
    â€œI thought you might write to Mrs. Pike,” said Mrs. Element, after a short silence.
    â€œShe wouldn’t take any notice of what I said.”
    â€œYou could tell ’er the position ,” declared Mrs. Element. “You could put it nicer than Jim and me. It was Jim’s ideer really. Ask Miss Sal, ’e said. You go up and ask Miss Sal, she’ll put it right. You will, won’t you, miss?”
    â€œI’ll try,” said Sal reluctantly. “I’ll write to her if you want me to, but I’m afraid if his mother wants him, he’ll have to go back.”
    â€œYou write,” said Mrs. Element, smiling for the first time. “It’ll be all right if you tell ’er. Jim said so. Jim said, ‘It’ll be all right if Miss Sal writes ’er a letter. Remember that beautiful letter Miss Sal wrote when Mother died?’ A beautiful letter it was,” said Mrs. Element reminiscently. “Jim and me ’ad gone to Bristol for the funeral, and you wrote to us, Miss Sal. I ’adn’t never got on very well with Jim’s mother, but when I read that letter, I cried and cried— beautiful , it was.”
    Sal was so full of conflicting emotions that she was speechless. She poured out a cup of tea for Mrs. Element and handed her the sugar bowl.
    â€œNot for me, thank you,” said Mrs. Element. “It ain’t right to take people’s sugar. If you ’appen to ’ave a sack-reen ’andy I’ll ’ave one. Useful stuff, ain’t it? I don’t know ’ow I’d get on without sack-reen. I use it for rhubarb—sweetens it lovely—makes a nice tart, rhubarb does, if you can spare the fat.”
    Sal agreed. She was glad to change the subject—cooking was always a nice safe subject and practically inexhaustible. She sat down and poured out a cup of tea for herself and they proceeded to exchange recipes. But Mrs. Element had not forgotten and as she was going away, with Sal’s pet recipe for a ginger sponge tucked into her handbag, she paused on the step and said, “Oh, it’s stopped raining, that’s nice. You’ll write and tell ’er the position , won’t you, Miss Sal?”
    When Sal returned to the drawing room, Aunt Rona had vanished and Tilly was sitting alone on the sofa staring in front of her in a dejected sort of way.
    â€œWhere have you been!” she exclaimed. “I thought you were never coming back…I was rude to her, Sal.”
    â€œYou weren’t!” cried Sal incredulously.
    â€œI was—really—about Joan. She’s such a pig about Joan, isn’t she? And I just couldn’t stand it any longer. I was definitely rude,” declared Tilly emphatically.
    â€œHow did she take it?” inquired Sal.
    â€œThat was the queer thing. She didn’t seem to notice. Do you think she’s very