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

three slices of cake and jam, and half a plate of biscuits had taken up a very fair share of the time alluded to, but it was certainly not the moment to remark upon it. Each carrying a suit-case, they turned to the left, and came into a small square hall from which a staircase ran up to the second floor. But before they could set foot on it there was a sound of flying footsteps behind them and, all in a rush, there was Jennifer with an arm about her mother’s shoulders, shaking her, snatching the suit-case away with her free hand, and scolding in a rapid undertone.
    “I won’t have it—you know perfectly well I won’t! Why does she let you? She’s come here to help you, hasn’t she? At least that’s what she’s supposed to have come for. Why doesn’t she do it? I’d put up with her if she did. You!” She stared across Mrs. Craddock’s shoulder at Miss Silver. “What’s the good of you if you can’t stop her carrying things?”
    There was an unchildlike fury in the dark eyes. Miss Silver met it steadily. She said,
    “I hope to be able to do so, Jennifer. If you will carry the case and show me my room, there will be no need for your mother to come up.”
    There was a moment of hostility, a moment of fading antagonism, a moment when Jennifer stood frowning and uncertain. Then she gave Mrs. Craddock quite a rough push, said, “Be off with you!” and ran up the stairs without waiting.
    Miss Silver followed at leisure. She was perfectly able to carry her suit-case, but she had no intention of hurrying. She wondered a little whether Jennifer would be in sight when she reached the landing which corresponded with the hall below. It was crossed by a long passage upon which rooms opened to either side. A faint light illuminated the stair-head, but the passages were dark, and Jennifer had vanished in the darkness.
    Miss Silver took a chance and walked down the right-hand passage. She was nearing the end of it, when a door flew open and light streamed out to the accompaniment of Jennifer’s mocking laughter. It broke off suddenly.
    “You didn’t scream!”
    “I could see no reason to scream.”
    “Do you always see reason?”
    The child’s voice accused her of something—she wondered what? She said in her most equable tones,
    “It is a very good plan.”
    As she came into the room, Jennifer backed away from her, tall and thin in old patched shorts and a faded scarlet jersey. The long bare legs were brown, the long thin feet were naked in their sandals. Miss Silver was reminded of a startled foal. There was the same mixture of awkwardness and grace, the toss of the head with which a straying forelock was shaken back. There was no timidity, but an alert wariness. From a safe distance Jennifer said,
    “Do you always plan things?”
    Miss Silver gave her the smile which had won the heart of many a reluctant client.
    “Do you not do so?”
    “Sometimes I do. Sometimes my plan isn’t the same as someone else’s plan. It mightn’t be the same as yours—it might be a very opposite plan indeed. What would you do then?”
    Miss Silver appeared to give this question as much serious attention as if it had been put to her by a grown-up person. Then she said,
    “One can really only make plans for oneself. When they come into conflict with the plans of other people one has to consider to what extent each can accommodate his plan to another’s. It is a problem that arises constantly. People who are successful in dealing with it will also make a success of their lives.”
    She had caught the child’s attention. The dark eyes had a sudden bright spark of intelligence. Under the overhead light she saw that they were not brown as she had thought at first, but a sombre grey heavily shaded by black lashes. The spark flashed and was gone. Jennifer stood poised with her weight on one foot, as if ready to fly off at a tangent. She said,
    “You planned to come here. So did the others. They didn’t stay. Perhaps you won’t