Part 10 (1/2)

Miriam would not encourage these reminiscences, so belated on the part of her stepmother. ”We have a neighbour who grows horses,” she said.

”And he's a wonderful rider. Rupert, don't you think he'd like to show them to Uncle Alfred? On Sat.u.r.day afternoon, couldn't you take him to the farm?”

”But I'm going on Sat.u.r.day,” Uncle Alfred interposed.

”Sat.u.r.day! And today's Thursday! Oh!”

”At least I think so,” he said weakly.

Secretly she shook her head at him. ”No, no,” she signed, and said aloud, ”A Sunday in the country--”

”No place of wors.h.i.+p within four miles,” Rupert announced.

”Ah,” Uncle Alfred said with a gleam of humour, ”that's distinctly cheering.”

Miriam beat her hands together softly. ”And yet,” she said, ”I've sometimes been to church for a diversion. Have you?”

”Never,” he answered firmly.

”I counted the bald heads,” she said mournfully, ”but they didn't last out.” She looked up and saw that Uncle Alfred was laughing silently: she glanced over her shoulder and saw Mildred Caniper's lips compressed, and she had a double triumph. This was the moment when it would be wise for her to go to bed. Like a dark flower, lifting itself to the sun, she rose from her knees in a single, steady movement.

”Good-night,” she said with a little air. ”And we'll have our walk tomorrow?”

He was at the door, holding it open. ”Yes, but--in the afternoon, if we may. I am not an early riser, and I don't feel very lively in the mornings.”

”Ah,” she thought as she went upstairs, ”he wouldn't have said that to my mother. He's getting old: but never mind, I'm like a lady in a romance! I believe he loved my mother and I'll make him love me.”

CHAPTER VII

She was not allowed time for that achievement. On the morning of the day which was to have been productive of so much happiness, the postman brought a letter with a foreign stamp, and Miriam took it to the kitchen where her stepmother and Helen were discussing meals.

”A letter,” Miriam said flippantly, ”from Italy.”

”Thank you, Miriam. Put it on the table.” The faint colour our deepened on her cheeks. ”I'm afraid one of you will have to go into the town again. I forgot to ask Rupert to order the meat. Miriam--”

”No, I can't go. I'm engaged to Uncle Alfred.”

”I think we might easily persuade him to excuse you. He really dislikes walking, though he would not say so.”

”Or,” Helen said with tact, ”we could get chickens from Lily Brent.

Wouldn't that be better?”

”Very well. Now, about sweets.”

”This letter,” Miriam said, bending over it and growing bold in the knowledge that Uncle Alfred was not far off, ”this letter looks as if it wants to be opened. All the way from Italy,” she mumbled so that Mildred Caniper could not distinguish the words, ”and neglected when it gets here. If he took the trouble to write to me, I wouldn't treat him like that. Poor letter! Poor Mr. Caniper! No wonder he went away to Italy.”

She stood up. ”His writing is very straggly,” she said clearly.