The Colonelslipped two sovereigns out of his little
gold case and gave them toher.
Somethinghad swum up on top of the
blackness.
She heard voices murmuring in the drawing-room.
There was agreen smudge on her pinafore as if she had been climbing trees. At last
he had turned the handle and was gone. When she reached the corner under the
laburnum tree she stooderect.
The Mistress, sir, taken worse, I think, sir, she
said with acurious whimper in her voice. That was the worst of the Bar,
everyonesaid; one had to wait. She thought that she heard him coming
afterher.
The street was wet; theroofs were
shining.
That was the worst of growing up, she thought; they
couldnt sharethings as they used to share them. A thin puff ofsteam issued from the
serpent-shaped spout.
At last he had turned the handle and was gone. Its
raining, she said in a low voice, but nobody answered her.
The dear old Levys, said Delia tentatively. Shelay
for a moment looking out of the window. Dropping theblind, Delia turned, and coming
back into the drawing-room, saidsuddenly:Oh my God!
Finish your dinner, girls, said the Colonel
peremptorily. Then the daughter came in who was working for a tailor.
The door slammed; bookswere slapped down on the
hall table, and Martin, a boy of twelve,came in.
Therewas the long stretch of bare street in front
of her. Ripples of rough soundrang through the room. Its not boiling, said Milly
Pargiter, looking at the tea-kettle.
Mrs Levy had her rent ready, for a wonder, she
said. She stood at the window looking up thestreet. She had a greatadmiration for
Mrs Levy, who was dying of cancer.
Thelarge armchair had a dark stain on it where her
father had restedhis head, she noticed.
And when it does catch, Eleanor was saying, itll be
much toohot. The sour-sweet smell of illness slightly sickened her.
Then Crosby came in and said, should she boil the
kettle inthe kitchen?
The nursery was brightly lit; there was an unshaded
lamp on thetable. Morris sat down in the chair she had left empty. She kept her hand
on the pile of newspapers.
Isnt it rather late for a little girl like you to
be out alone?
Its raining, she said in a low voice, but nobody
answered her. She tried to whip up somefeeling of affection, of pity.
She whispered a few words to Eleanor privately. She
roseall in white in the middle of the platform; Mr Parnell was by
herside.
She was frightened and bewildered, as sheoften was
on waking.