Read Online Anna, Where Are You? by Patricia Wentworth - Free Book Online Page A

then as a matter of habit back again to her husband. She admired him, she was afraid of him, she made haste to do his slightest bidding.
    Over what she now discovered to be health tea with an odd lingering flavour of camomile, Miss Silver began to talk to her about the children. Jennifer was twelve, Maurice was seven, and Benjy four.
    “They have so much energy,” said Mrs. Craddock in the soft tired voice which seemed to slur the words because it really had not strength enough to sustain them. “I hope you will not find them too difficult to manage.” Mr. Craddock cut himself a large slice of home-made cake.
    “There must, of course, be no coercion,” he said. “That is understood, is it not? The free expression and development of individuality is a cardinal point. Freedom to express, freedom to develop, freedom to come face to face with the Ultimate and fulfil its purpose—these are essentials. I can rely on you to give them full scope?”
    Replying that she would do her best, Miss Silver could not help wondering which of these freedoms had fallen to Mrs. Craddock’s share.
    “Emily,” said Mr. Craddock in his deepest tones, “you are neglecting Miss Silver. Her cup is empty.” He turned a benignant gaze upon the guest. “My own special herbal tea— healthful and invigorating. I experimented for months before I satisfied my exacting taste. The gathering of the herbs is in accordance with the dictates of astrological science—those under the moon’s influence to be gathered at the full of the moon, those under Venus and the other planets at the appropriate times. There is a vast mass of accumulated lore on the subject. But there are fields still unexplored. It is in connection with these that I hope my name may yet go down to posterity. Meanwhile my health tea is a humble offering to progress.”
    Miss Silver coughed.
    “I am afraid I am very ignorant about such matters. They must require a great deal of study.”
    Since Mrs. Craddock had filled up her cup, she had perforce to drink a second and stronger infusion of the health tea. Considered as an offering to progress, it appeared to her inadequate, since its only merit was that it was hot, and this might have been achieved by the simple boiling of a kettle. She could not help reflecting that Mr. Craddock’s labours had involved a sad waste of time.
    In the course of the next half hour she heard a good deal more about these labours. Mr. Craddock, it appeared, was engaged upon a Great Work. He required perfect quiet, both for the preliminary meditations which such a task required and for the actual literary work involved. There were also experiments of so delicate a nature that the least interruption would be fatal to their success. To this end he reserved for himself what he alluded to as a Retreat in the otherwise unused central block of the house.
    “It is not generally habitable, and parts of it are far from safe. As regards the children, I have been obliged to lay an embargo on it. Much as I dislike rules or any attempt to curtail their perfect freedom of action, you will, I am sure, understand that in this case there is no alternative.” He was helping himself to strawberry jam as he spoke and spreading it thickly upon the current slice of cake.
    “Mr. Craddock must have perfect quiet,” said Mrs. Craddock in a faint twittering voice. “He must never be disturbed.”
    When Miss Silver was presently conducted to her room, it was by Mrs. Craddock. No one, least of all Mr. Craddock, having attempted to do anything about her suit-cases, she picked up one herself and saw Mrs. Craddock stoop for the other. Since the farther door had been closed, there was nothing to restrain her from saying in a decidedly disapproving manner,
    “It is really too heavy for you. Perhaps Mr. Craddock—”
    Emily Craddock shook her head.
    “Oh, no—I am quite used to carrying things. We have taken up too much of his time already.”
    Four slices of buttered toast,