collapse, who is going to take care of this little arctic colony?”
A pale gilt sun suddenly shone through the leaded windows and turned the walnut paneling over the buffet to a dark burnished gold. Alice looked at the loveliness about her and thought, once more: this should all be mine.
She suddenly remembered her childhood here, and how she had loved every old room, every corridor, and stairway, especially the broad oaken one that rose from the hall. She was familiar with every passageway, the attic, cellars and barns, every tree and stream. While she had been exploring as a child, Laura had spent her time with Aunt Clara sitting in the ‘morning room’. Or following the lumbering old woman during inspection of the linen closets. “No wonder this all came to her,” Alice thought bitterly. “And I, who loved it all as it should be loved, received nothing.”
She felt the hatred in her heart, and when John leaned towards her over the stiff, white damask of the tablecloth to light her cigarette, she was aware that he was watching her covertly. Edith arrived at that moment with Laura’s tray.
John looked at it critically. “Two soft-boiled eggs, one soft piece of toast, one pot of chocolate, and orange sections,” he announced.
“Typical of Laura,” Alice said. She put down her cigarette, picked up the tray and left the room, her slim back straight and stiff.
“I gather that Alice doesn’t like our hostess,” John remarked.
“You gather right. And with good reason, too,” David told him. “Laura calls this place ‘our little home in the country’. You know, rustic. Alice always thought she would have it; this house, its grounds, are part of her, though she was born in New York. She came home again, when sweet Aunt Clara invited her to live here.”
“Why did sweet Aunt Clara do that? You never told me.”
“Well, she had all that money and property, and Laura and Alice were the only two girls of the family, if you overlook Bertram Beame’s first daughter, whom Aunt Clara resolutely did. Aunt Clara didn’t care for boys. So, the idea was to see which of the girls she wanted to leave her money to, and Laura was the one who hit the jackpot. Alice never got over it.”
John stood up abruptly, adjusting his tweed jacket, and strolled out into the kitchen. It was suffocatingly hot, with the ovens going, and the windows were streaming with moisture. “Well, it’s comfortable.” He smiled at Mrs. Daley, who, after a moment, returned his smile. “Came out to get warm.” He held his hands over a gas jet.
“You got the oil stove in there,” Edith reminded him sullenly.
“And we’ve got the other oil stove up in our rooms.” Mrs. Daley glared angrily at her niece.
“And we’ve got log fires in the living room and morning room,” John replied amiably. “We won’t freeze. The point is, will the plumbing?”
“No. All protected, Mr. Carr,” Mrs. Daley said, studying him thoughtfully.
“When did Mr. Frazier have his breakfast?” he asked. “He hasn’t been in here this morning?”
“Oh, he had his breakfast right at the kitchen table, long before you got up,” Mrs. Daley told him. “He’s a hearty eater, not like Dr. David, who doesn’t like big breakfasts. That’s why he’s so thin.”
“One of these mornings I’ll have some chocolate, myself,” John said. “It smells good. I drink too much coffee.”
He became aware, after a moment or two, that the women were watching him curiously. He turned to them, smiling, and then returned to the dining room, where he and David began a serious conversation.
“Nice gentleman,” Mrs. Daley commented to her niece.
“I don’t think so,” Edith said. “One of those smart alecks. Watching everything. He doesn’t miss nothing.”
“You watch that toast!” Mrs. Daley warned her.
Laura was still sleeping when Alice placed the steaming tray on a small table near the bed in the handsomely decorated bedroom. Once, long ago, this
A pale gilt sun suddenly shone through the leaded windows and turned the walnut paneling over the buffet to a dark burnished gold. Alice looked at the loveliness about her and thought, once more: this should all be mine.
She suddenly remembered her childhood here, and how she had loved every old room, every corridor, and stairway, especially the broad oaken one that rose from the hall. She was familiar with every passageway, the attic, cellars and barns, every tree and stream. While she had been exploring as a child, Laura had spent her time with Aunt Clara sitting in the ‘morning room’. Or following the lumbering old woman during inspection of the linen closets. “No wonder this all came to her,” Alice thought bitterly. “And I, who loved it all as it should be loved, received nothing.”
She felt the hatred in her heart, and when John leaned towards her over the stiff, white damask of the tablecloth to light her cigarette, she was aware that he was watching her covertly. Edith arrived at that moment with Laura’s tray.
John looked at it critically. “Two soft-boiled eggs, one soft piece of toast, one pot of chocolate, and orange sections,” he announced.
“Typical of Laura,” Alice said. She put down her cigarette, picked up the tray and left the room, her slim back straight and stiff.
“I gather that Alice doesn’t like our hostess,” John remarked.
“You gather right. And with good reason, too,” David told him. “Laura calls this place ‘our little home in the country’. You know, rustic. Alice always thought she would have it; this house, its grounds, are part of her, though she was born in New York. She came home again, when sweet Aunt Clara invited her to live here.”
“Why did sweet Aunt Clara do that? You never told me.”
“Well, she had all that money and property, and Laura and Alice were the only two girls of the family, if you overlook Bertram Beame’s first daughter, whom Aunt Clara resolutely did. Aunt Clara didn’t care for boys. So, the idea was to see which of the girls she wanted to leave her money to, and Laura was the one who hit the jackpot. Alice never got over it.”
John stood up abruptly, adjusting his tweed jacket, and strolled out into the kitchen. It was suffocatingly hot, with the ovens going, and the windows were streaming with moisture. “Well, it’s comfortable.” He smiled at Mrs. Daley, who, after a moment, returned his smile. “Came out to get warm.” He held his hands over a gas jet.
“You got the oil stove in there,” Edith reminded him sullenly.
“And we’ve got the other oil stove up in our rooms.” Mrs. Daley glared angrily at her niece.
“And we’ve got log fires in the living room and morning room,” John replied amiably. “We won’t freeze. The point is, will the plumbing?”
“No. All protected, Mr. Carr,” Mrs. Daley said, studying him thoughtfully.
“When did Mr. Frazier have his breakfast?” he asked. “He hasn’t been in here this morning?”
“Oh, he had his breakfast right at the kitchen table, long before you got up,” Mrs. Daley told him. “He’s a hearty eater, not like Dr. David, who doesn’t like big breakfasts. That’s why he’s so thin.”
“One of these mornings I’ll have some chocolate, myself,” John said. “It smells good. I drink too much coffee.”
He became aware, after a moment or two, that the women were watching him curiously. He turned to them, smiling, and then returned to the dining room, where he and David began a serious conversation.
“Nice gentleman,” Mrs. Daley commented to her niece.
“I don’t think so,” Edith said. “One of those smart alecks. Watching everything. He doesn’t miss nothing.”
“You watch that toast!” Mrs. Daley warned her.
Laura was still sleeping when Alice placed the steaming tray on a small table near the bed in the handsomely decorated bedroom. Once, long ago, this
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