full of the moon—and other creatures that were not generally supposed to have the same reactions as human beings. And, more than anything else, she would dwell upon the sheer, sensuous delight of moonlight.
But, not being a poet, she decided to go indoors and early to bed, and in the morning she would have to draw up some sort of plan for her own and Johnny’s daily life as long as they were at the cottage.
Just before she went indoors and wisely secured all the bolts—not because of sudden nervousness but because of common sense—she thought she really did hear a rather curious noise which reached her from the main road, and after a few seconds she could quite easily have deceived herself into believing that she was listening to footsteps ringing rather hollowly on the smooth surface of the road.
Then, with a light shrug of her shoulders, she dismissed the sound, and drove home the bolts.
After all, what if it was some country wayfarer making his way home after an evening at the inn in the village? Or after spending an evening with friends! It was really nothing to do with her! Nothing at all.
She looked in on Johnny before entering her own room, and was pleased because he was sleeping so profoundly that he made absolutely no movement, and his arms were flung wide, embracing the whole of his enchanting small room, as it were.
The next day was a more strenuous day than Victoria had known for a long time. She got up early and cooked Johnny a really substantial breakfast, while contenting herself with fruit juice and cereal, and after breakfast started making a list of all the things that they had to purchase at the village shop. Sir Peter had given her clearly to understand that it was about a mile from the cottage, and they set off to walk the distance with two pairs of equally enthusiastic and curious feet.
Actually, it was much more like two miles, but neither Victoria nor Johnny minded in the least, and even the thought of the return journey didn’t deter them.
But before commencing the return journey they made the acquaintance of the butcher and the grocer in the village, as well as the postmistress, who seemed a little curious when she learned where it was that they were staying.
“Alder Cottage? But I thought it was still empty.” She peered curiously at Victoria. “You must have moved in rather suddenly!”
“We moved in yesterday,” Victoria informed her while she slipped a book of stamps inside her handbag.
The postmistress’s eyebrows rose.
“I didn’t know Sir Peter was going to let it. I didn’t know he’d made up his mind what to do with it.”
“He hasn’t let it,” Victoria further informed her. “Johnny—” she prevented him upsetting a bowl of eggs on the counter— “is Sir Peter’s ward, and I’m looking after him.” She couldn’t think of any reason why she had to keep
Johnny’s new security secret from the rest of the world. “We shall probably be at the cottage for a few weeks.”
“Indeed!” But the way the postmistress said it this was tremendous news. “I didn’t know Sir Peter had a ward, and I don’t think many people have heard about it, either. But then everyone’s talking about the wedding that’s coming off soon. . . . Such an event for us all!”
She appeared to brighten for a brief while. “Sir Peter has promised to send cars for us all. Such a very kind gentlemen!”
“Er—yes,” Victoria answered.
“One doesn’t meet many like him nowadays.” Quite obviously she was against progress. “And him so very rich, too.”
“Er—yes,” Victoria murmured again.
The postmistress—who also maintained a kind of general shop—peered at her shortsightedly once more across her loaded counter.
“You look a little young to me,” she remarked, “to be taking care of the child. But perhaps there’s someone with you at the cottage?”
“No, no one,” from Victoria.
The grizzled eyebrows swept upward again.
“But it’s rather a
But, not being a poet, she decided to go indoors and early to bed, and in the morning she would have to draw up some sort of plan for her own and Johnny’s daily life as long as they were at the cottage.
Just before she went indoors and wisely secured all the bolts—not because of sudden nervousness but because of common sense—she thought she really did hear a rather curious noise which reached her from the main road, and after a few seconds she could quite easily have deceived herself into believing that she was listening to footsteps ringing rather hollowly on the smooth surface of the road.
Then, with a light shrug of her shoulders, she dismissed the sound, and drove home the bolts.
After all, what if it was some country wayfarer making his way home after an evening at the inn in the village? Or after spending an evening with friends! It was really nothing to do with her! Nothing at all.
She looked in on Johnny before entering her own room, and was pleased because he was sleeping so profoundly that he made absolutely no movement, and his arms were flung wide, embracing the whole of his enchanting small room, as it were.
The next day was a more strenuous day than Victoria had known for a long time. She got up early and cooked Johnny a really substantial breakfast, while contenting herself with fruit juice and cereal, and after breakfast started making a list of all the things that they had to purchase at the village shop. Sir Peter had given her clearly to understand that it was about a mile from the cottage, and they set off to walk the distance with two pairs of equally enthusiastic and curious feet.
Actually, it was much more like two miles, but neither Victoria nor Johnny minded in the least, and even the thought of the return journey didn’t deter them.
But before commencing the return journey they made the acquaintance of the butcher and the grocer in the village, as well as the postmistress, who seemed a little curious when she learned where it was that they were staying.
“Alder Cottage? But I thought it was still empty.” She peered curiously at Victoria. “You must have moved in rather suddenly!”
“We moved in yesterday,” Victoria informed her while she slipped a book of stamps inside her handbag.
The postmistress’s eyebrows rose.
“I didn’t know Sir Peter was going to let it. I didn’t know he’d made up his mind what to do with it.”
“He hasn’t let it,” Victoria further informed her. “Johnny—” she prevented him upsetting a bowl of eggs on the counter— “is Sir Peter’s ward, and I’m looking after him.” She couldn’t think of any reason why she had to keep
Johnny’s new security secret from the rest of the world. “We shall probably be at the cottage for a few weeks.”
“Indeed!” But the way the postmistress said it this was tremendous news. “I didn’t know Sir Peter had a ward, and I don’t think many people have heard about it, either. But then everyone’s talking about the wedding that’s coming off soon. . . . Such an event for us all!”
She appeared to brighten for a brief while. “Sir Peter has promised to send cars for us all. Such a very kind gentlemen!”
“Er—yes,” Victoria answered.
“One doesn’t meet many like him nowadays.” Quite obviously she was against progress. “And him so very rich, too.”
“Er—yes,” Victoria murmured again.
The postmistress—who also maintained a kind of general shop—peered at her shortsightedly once more across her loaded counter.
“You look a little young to me,” she remarked, “to be taking care of the child. But perhaps there’s someone with you at the cottage?”
“No, no one,” from Victoria.
The grizzled eyebrows swept upward again.
“But it’s rather a
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