Read Online Canapés for the Kitties by Marian Babson - Free Book Online

... their broken cord dangling from one side. There was only one person she had ever known – or, rather, imagined – who wore pince-nez ...
    The high-pitched mocking laughter sounded again, fading into the distance.
    Lorinda thrust the pince-nez into her coat pocket and stumbled down the flagstone path to the door in the wall.
    It was some sort of joke. Not funny and in poor taste – as though the autocratic Miss Petunia intended to reprimand her for... for ...?
    Impossible! She really had drunk too deeply of Plantagenet Sutton’s champagne to let it affect her like this.
    She did not even try to muffle her footsteps as she gained the street and turned towards home. This time she ran.

3
    Chapter Twenty
    â€œOooh!” Marigold squealed, clapping her hands girlishly. “It all looks so beautiful! Like Fairyland!”
    â€œNot bad, if I do say so myself.” Lily descended the stepladder, hammer swinging carelessly in her hand.
    â€œA beautiful job, my dear.” The vicar’s wife always seemed to speak through clenched teeth. “Although you shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble. My husband had planned to –”
    â€œNo trouble at all.” Lily beamed. “Looks good.” Streamers stretched across the ceiling, clusters of balloons bloomed in every corner and fairy lights sparkled everywhere.
    â€œOh, very good,” the vicar’s wife agreed quickly, smartly stepping back out of range of the swinging hammer.
    â€œYes,” Miss Petunia approved. “This is going to be one of our most successful bazaars. I can feel it.”
    The church hall had never looked so attractive, if one did say so oneself. The tables were laden with needlework, knitting, homemade cakes, jams and preserves, books, bric-à-brac, and all the hundreds of offerings designed to charm the pennies and pounds out of pockets and purses.
    In one corner an artfully draped sheet represented a gypsy tent, within which lurked a heavily made-up volunteer who (on the strength of having read the two books on graphology and card tricks that comprised the library’s entire stock of unorthodoxy) was going to tell fortunes. In the opposite corner, the tombola spun merrily behind a table filled with numbered prizes to be won. A door in the far corner led to the little side room where teas were to be served and the last corner held the steps leading up to the stage where the judging was to be held. The long trestle table was set out on the stage, laden with the pies, cakes, preserves and jams, ready for the solemn procession of judges to taste and pronounce their verdict upon.
    â€œBest part of the whole day,” Lily said, looking around with satisfaction. “Too bad we have to let the public in to mess it all up.”
    Everybody laughed heartily. They always laughed heartily at Lily’s jokes. Which was just as well. Lily could become ... difficult ... if she thought she wasn’t appreciated.
    â€œLet me relieve you of that heavy old thing.” Deftly, Mrs. Reverend Christian abstracted the hammer from Lily’s hand. “Now that you’ve finished with it.” Still laughing gaily, she carried it into the tearoom.
    â€œI do feel the Reverend Christian is most fortunate in his choice of a life’s mate,” Miss Petunia said, watching her go. “We must keep watch carefully. Nothing like last year’s unfortunate happening must be allowed to mar today’s festival.”
    â€œRotten hard luck on the vicar’s wife,” Lily agreed. “A duff mushroom in the mushrooms a la Grecque could happen to anyone.”
    â€œRather harder luck on poor Mr. Mallory,” Marigold twinkled. “Still, it was a lovely funeral.”
    â€œAlthough a most premature one,” Miss Petunia said severely.
    â€œOh, but, Pet, he was dead.” Marigold’s eyes widened earnestly. “Everyone said so.”
    â€œI am not questioning the fact of his