Read Online Bitter Eden by Sharon Anne Salvato - Free Book Online
Authors: Sharon Anne Salvato
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mantel clock ended the dinner hour.
"Boney's buttons are popping," Mrs. Peach said, eyeing the clock. "We are running late tonight. No time for the parlor at all." She came to stand by Cal-lie's chair. "Time for you to go to bed, Callie."
"But Mrs. Peach, I've just finished supper and it's only eight o'clock. I never go to bed this early." She looked at the other girls, chagrined to see the knowing smiles appear on their faces. "I'm not a baby, Mrs. Peach," she whispered.
"To me you are, my dear. You must remember I am really quite ancient. Why, I imagine I could look upon Bubble and Squeaky themselves and think them babies," she said with an irreverent reference to the unfortunate Charles Wynn and his brother, who loved to speak in Parliament despite high-pitched, peculiar voices.
Callie giggled along with the others, but had lost her battle.
"Come along, dearie," Mrs. Peach said. "To bed with you. You must suffer what ministrations I deem best for you. One thing I can definitely say is that all my girls are obedient."
There was a murmured assent from the others.
Callie meekly followed Mrs. Peach to her room.
During those few minutes Mrs. Peach made up to her, agreeing with the unfairness of the early bedtime. "But you are so pale and thin, my dear! Isn't it better to retire early one or two nights than to find yourself ill for several? Of course it is! Once you've fattened up a bit and are looking healthy again, we'll reconsider this early time." She stood to the side of the room, folding Callie's clothes as they were removed.
Her attention was entirely on Callie. It was all there, just as she had thought: the good bone structure, the well-formed limbs. Callie would be slow in coming to full maturity, but Mrs. Peach was certain this young girl would be a ravishingly beautiful woman. Now she was like a young colt, all legs and energy, but a thoroughbred colt, and that was what Mrs. Peach was best at spotting.
She went to Callie and tied the small blue ribbon of her nightgown into a bow. Automatically she patted Callie's arm, and led her to the bed. "Sleep well, Callie. Everything will seem better in the morning. You have years before you and much to learn. Take my care for now, and trust that I have your future in mind." Mrs. Peach tucked her in tenderly and turned down the lamp at the side of her bed, then left the room. Callie was blissfully satisfied, all over her annoyance at being sent to bed early—until she heard the doorlock turn.
Chapter 4
Mrs. Pettibone was tired and out of sorts from a long-winded visit with her sister. She found Callie's note under the door of her flat. As soon as she read it she was certain something was wrong. But she was tired. The sheer weight of her tedious day was enough to make her see something wrong in everything. She sat down in her parlor and tried to forget all about it.
The newspaper was filled with the details of a white slavery ring. She shuddered with the horror of it, clucking a disapproving tongue at the times and conditions that led people to such things. And all the time Callie's note stayed ominously in the back of her mind.
She promised herself she would look into the matter in the morning, By then Callie would return for the rest of her things. Questions could be answered then. After all there was nothing she could do tonight. She was nearly convinced of the truth of her argument when Mr. Jenks tottered into her parlor seeking his afternoon tea.
"Well, you've missed it today, Mr. Jenks," she said,
making up her mind that she had been put upon enough today. But the old man was as dismayed with his day as she, and he was lonely. Pathetically he tried to prolong a conversation he couldn't hear so he could stay in her company a few minutes longer. She sighed and gave in.
"Sit down, Mr. Jenks. It'll take but a minute. I could do with a cup myself," she shouted into his good ear.
Warmed by the companionship and the tea, Mr. Jenks remembered Callie. "She was
"Boney's buttons are popping," Mrs. Peach said, eyeing the clock. "We are running late tonight. No time for the parlor at all." She came to stand by Cal-lie's chair. "Time for you to go to bed, Callie."
"But Mrs. Peach, I've just finished supper and it's only eight o'clock. I never go to bed this early." She looked at the other girls, chagrined to see the knowing smiles appear on their faces. "I'm not a baby, Mrs. Peach," she whispered.
"To me you are, my dear. You must remember I am really quite ancient. Why, I imagine I could look upon Bubble and Squeaky themselves and think them babies," she said with an irreverent reference to the unfortunate Charles Wynn and his brother, who loved to speak in Parliament despite high-pitched, peculiar voices.
Callie giggled along with the others, but had lost her battle.
"Come along, dearie," Mrs. Peach said. "To bed with you. You must suffer what ministrations I deem best for you. One thing I can definitely say is that all my girls are obedient."
There was a murmured assent from the others.
Callie meekly followed Mrs. Peach to her room.
During those few minutes Mrs. Peach made up to her, agreeing with the unfairness of the early bedtime. "But you are so pale and thin, my dear! Isn't it better to retire early one or two nights than to find yourself ill for several? Of course it is! Once you've fattened up a bit and are looking healthy again, we'll reconsider this early time." She stood to the side of the room, folding Callie's clothes as they were removed.
Her attention was entirely on Callie. It was all there, just as she had thought: the good bone structure, the well-formed limbs. Callie would be slow in coming to full maturity, but Mrs. Peach was certain this young girl would be a ravishingly beautiful woman. Now she was like a young colt, all legs and energy, but a thoroughbred colt, and that was what Mrs. Peach was best at spotting.
She went to Callie and tied the small blue ribbon of her nightgown into a bow. Automatically she patted Callie's arm, and led her to the bed. "Sleep well, Callie. Everything will seem better in the morning. You have years before you and much to learn. Take my care for now, and trust that I have your future in mind." Mrs. Peach tucked her in tenderly and turned down the lamp at the side of her bed, then left the room. Callie was blissfully satisfied, all over her annoyance at being sent to bed early—until she heard the doorlock turn.
Chapter 4
Mrs. Pettibone was tired and out of sorts from a long-winded visit with her sister. She found Callie's note under the door of her flat. As soon as she read it she was certain something was wrong. But she was tired. The sheer weight of her tedious day was enough to make her see something wrong in everything. She sat down in her parlor and tried to forget all about it.
The newspaper was filled with the details of a white slavery ring. She shuddered with the horror of it, clucking a disapproving tongue at the times and conditions that led people to such things. And all the time Callie's note stayed ominously in the back of her mind.
She promised herself she would look into the matter in the morning, By then Callie would return for the rest of her things. Questions could be answered then. After all there was nothing she could do tonight. She was nearly convinced of the truth of her argument when Mr. Jenks tottered into her parlor seeking his afternoon tea.
"Well, you've missed it today, Mr. Jenks," she said,
making up her mind that she had been put upon enough today. But the old man was as dismayed with his day as she, and he was lonely. Pathetically he tried to prolong a conversation he couldn't hear so he could stay in her company a few minutes longer. She sighed and gave in.
"Sit down, Mr. Jenks. It'll take but a minute. I could do with a cup myself," she shouted into his good ear.
Warmed by the companionship and the tea, Mr. Jenks remembered Callie. "She was
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