see that Mr. Babcock appeared to have recovered from his little bout, but uncertain how to respond to the hopeful look he was now bestowing on our Hound of the Chittervilles.
“As I understand it, Mrs. Haskell, you’re on the lookout for a permanent home for Cliffy here.”
“I’d certainly hate to think of him panhandling on the street,” I agreed warily. “But I can’t foist him on you, Mr. Babcock. For one thing, he’s a walking demolition squad, and secondly, in talking to Sylvia at the library, I got the distinct impression she doesn’t like dogs.”
“Don’t you believe it.” The milkman poured some of his tea into the saucer and held it out to the animal with a besotted smile. “Women talk that kind of rubbish, but I’ve never known one that wasn’t a softie for a hard-luck story. Believe you me, the missus will be dotty about this young man here five minutes after I walk him in the door.”
Remembering his new bride, I had my doubts. “You’re not afraid Sylvia will order you both out of the house and be on the phone to a locksmith before you can start apologizing?” This scenario appeared tame to me as I watched Heathcliff crunch down on the porcelain saucer.
“Don’t you worry, Mrs. Haskell!”
Easy for Mr. Babcock to say! I couldn’t help but worry about my next meeting with Sylvia. She was the sort who burst into tears if a fly buzzed in her vicinity, who was forever poking at her hair to make sure that every pin curl stayed in place. But on the other hand, it would be marvelous to greet Ben with the news that Heathcliff was already on his way to a new home.
“Are you sure, Mr. Babcock, you’re doing the right thing?” Even as I spoke I was rummaging around in one of the drawers for a piece of cord to tie around the dog’s thick leather collar.
“We’ve got some good years ahead of us, him and me.” Draining his cup, Mr. Babcock took the makeshift lead from my hands and tied a solid knot before picking up the milk crate with his free hand and heading with his new soulmate for the garden door. “I feel like a bit of a grave robber, I do. But I hope that librarian woman, if she’s looking down from above, knows this little lad will be well looked after.”
“You’re a life-saver, Mr. Babcock,” I gushed heartily.
Thus I stood waving as man and dog set off across the courtyard. Just before climbing into the milk van, Heathcliff looked back at me, cocked his head as if to say “So long, chum” (or was that
chump?
), bared his teeth in a smile and … that was that. Closing the door, I collected the dustpan and broom and had just finished sweeping up the broken vase in the hall and setting the chair back on its remaining three legs, when Gerta came downstairs with the twins tugging on her alpine skirts.
“Good morning to you, Frau Haskell.” With the sunlight bursting in through the windows to gild the hair plaited around her head, our new au pair looked like a conventional nanny. I guessed her age to be between fifty and sixty, with a strawberries-and-cream complexion that any young girl might have envied. “You see, I meet the little lambkins?”
“Why we got a new mummy?” Tam came trotting across the flagstones to grasp me around the knees and peer up at me with a face that was growing uncannily like his father’s. The same blue-green eyes, the same silky thick lashes and tumbled dark hair.
“She’s not your new mummy, darling!” I scooped myson up into my arms and pressed my face against his peachy-soft cheek. “Her name is Gerta and she’s going to help me look after you.”
“We like him. Don’t us, Tam?” Abbey’s curls shone like sunbeams as she took hold of the other woman’s hand and jigged up and down.
“Her, darling,” I said. “Gerta is a ‘her,’ and I’m so glad you’re pleased she’s come to stay with us for a while.”
“This morning, Frau Haskell, I give you names and addresses of the references you contact, does that
“As I understand it, Mrs. Haskell, you’re on the lookout for a permanent home for Cliffy here.”
“I’d certainly hate to think of him panhandling on the street,” I agreed warily. “But I can’t foist him on you, Mr. Babcock. For one thing, he’s a walking demolition squad, and secondly, in talking to Sylvia at the library, I got the distinct impression she doesn’t like dogs.”
“Don’t you believe it.” The milkman poured some of his tea into the saucer and held it out to the animal with a besotted smile. “Women talk that kind of rubbish, but I’ve never known one that wasn’t a softie for a hard-luck story. Believe you me, the missus will be dotty about this young man here five minutes after I walk him in the door.”
Remembering his new bride, I had my doubts. “You’re not afraid Sylvia will order you both out of the house and be on the phone to a locksmith before you can start apologizing?” This scenario appeared tame to me as I watched Heathcliff crunch down on the porcelain saucer.
“Don’t you worry, Mrs. Haskell!”
Easy for Mr. Babcock to say! I couldn’t help but worry about my next meeting with Sylvia. She was the sort who burst into tears if a fly buzzed in her vicinity, who was forever poking at her hair to make sure that every pin curl stayed in place. But on the other hand, it would be marvelous to greet Ben with the news that Heathcliff was already on his way to a new home.
“Are you sure, Mr. Babcock, you’re doing the right thing?” Even as I spoke I was rummaging around in one of the drawers for a piece of cord to tie around the dog’s thick leather collar.
“We’ve got some good years ahead of us, him and me.” Draining his cup, Mr. Babcock took the makeshift lead from my hands and tied a solid knot before picking up the milk crate with his free hand and heading with his new soulmate for the garden door. “I feel like a bit of a grave robber, I do. But I hope that librarian woman, if she’s looking down from above, knows this little lad will be well looked after.”
“You’re a life-saver, Mr. Babcock,” I gushed heartily.
Thus I stood waving as man and dog set off across the courtyard. Just before climbing into the milk van, Heathcliff looked back at me, cocked his head as if to say “So long, chum” (or was that
chump?
), bared his teeth in a smile and … that was that. Closing the door, I collected the dustpan and broom and had just finished sweeping up the broken vase in the hall and setting the chair back on its remaining three legs, when Gerta came downstairs with the twins tugging on her alpine skirts.
“Good morning to you, Frau Haskell.” With the sunlight bursting in through the windows to gild the hair plaited around her head, our new au pair looked like a conventional nanny. I guessed her age to be between fifty and sixty, with a strawberries-and-cream complexion that any young girl might have envied. “You see, I meet the little lambkins?”
“Why we got a new mummy?” Tam came trotting across the flagstones to grasp me around the knees and peer up at me with a face that was growing uncannily like his father’s. The same blue-green eyes, the same silky thick lashes and tumbled dark hair.
“She’s not your new mummy, darling!” I scooped myson up into my arms and pressed my face against his peachy-soft cheek. “Her name is Gerta and she’s going to help me look after you.”
“We like him. Don’t us, Tam?” Abbey’s curls shone like sunbeams as she took hold of the other woman’s hand and jigged up and down.
“Her, darling,” I said. “Gerta is a ‘her,’ and I’m so glad you’re pleased she’s come to stay with us for a while.”
“This morning, Frau Haskell, I give you names and addresses of the references you contact, does that
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