Then She Fled Me by Sara Seale Page B

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    “Yes, dear, but Casey forgot to send it,” her aunt said. She could not see well enough to mend or da rn , so she was knitting.
    “Aunt Em, why didn’t you tell me? I could have fetched it this morning when I went to order the car, or Casey could have brought it.”
    Her aunt looked apologetic.
    “ I forgot, dear. What with the upset with Miss Dearlove and everything, I clean forgot. ”
    Sarah sighed. It was useless to rely on Aunt Em for anything and Kathy would not notice what was missing as long as she had her books and her piano and her weekly letter from Joe.
    “ I ’ ll have to go across for it in the morning, ” she said.
    “ You might fetch the coffee, too, and that lemon barley Mr. Flint wanted, ” said Aunt Em.
    “ But he asked for coffee days ago. Did nothing come from Casey ’ s? ”
    “ No, dear, I ’ m afraid not. And he ’ s rather annoyed about it and the lamp going out and Mary forgetting to do his room altogether in the excitement of Miss Dearlove going off. He wants to see you after breakfast tomorrow. ”
    Sarah pushed away the rabbit pie unfinished. She had lost her appetite.
    “ Oh, dear! ” she said. “ His month ’ s up tomorrow and now he ’ s sure to have decided to go, and I was trying to placate him this last week. How did he seem when you took up his supper, Kathy—cross? ”
    “ He didn ’ t say much except to ask if you were back yet. ” Kathy giggled. “ He seemed rather surprised that we weren ’ t worried about you when you weren ’ t home before dark. ”
    “ Was he? ” said Sarah with amazement. “ Oh, well, the English are creatures of habit. They like everything cut and dried. ”
    Presently, Kathy remarked that she couldn ’ t see to read and was going to bed, and Aunt Em rolled up her knitting and plucked Danny out of the shadows where he was hiding.
    “ We ’ ll all go, ” she said. “ Sarah, dear, you look tired. Come along. ”
    “ I must go through the accounts, ” Sarah replied.
    “ Leave it till tomorrow. You ’ re all eyes, child. ”
    “ I ’ ve already left it for a fortnight, and tomorrow I must go to Knockferry and pay some bills and see Uncle B. about a fresh advertisement. ”
    “ Very well. ” Aunt Em knew it was useless to argue, but she touched her niece ’ s thin cheek with apologetic fingers as she kissed her good night. Sometimes she thought, vaguely, the child had too much on her shoulders.
    When they had gone, Sarah took one of the candles and went into the kitchen. The stove was still alight and she kicked off her shoes and held first one foot and then the other to the warmth, noting absently the holes in her stockings. A cracked mirror over the mantel showed her her reflection and she stared for a moment at the thin little face which confronted her, the high, worried forehead with the fringe pushed back impatiently, the sharp cheekbones, devoid of color, and the green, unchildlike eyes.
    “ I ’ m very plain, ” she remarked aloud, but without surprise. “ Perhaps if my hair curled like Kathy ’ s ...”
    She viewed with distaste the fine straight hair which fell in a gentle curve against her neck, stuck her tongue out at her reflection and turned to rummage in a dresser drawer fo r the ancient exercise book which held the family accounts.
    She was soon lost in columns of figures which seemed to add up to an alarming sum. Sarah looked hopelessly in the tea-caddy where Aunt Em usually kept the housekeeping money but it was empty and it was only the beginning of the week. She began to add up figures, counting on her fingers and sucking her pencil. Fifteen and ninepence-half - penny to W. Doyle. What on earth was that for? Twelve into five won ’ t go so carry one. That made it look queer, and then there were all the halfpennies; they muddled everything up so much. Easiest to leave the halfpennies out or call them pennies, only that made it come to more.
    A drian, appearing unexpectedly in the doorway, watched