Read Online Crimson Roses by Grace Livingston Hill - Free Book Online Page B

swept and the floor wiped up. The spring sunshine was flooding the windows, and all together Marion felt that it was not a bad prospect for a home.
    As soon as the furniture was all carried in, she locked the door and sped back to her neglected work. The rest of the day she worked as if her life depended on getting things done, not even stopping to get any luncheon for herself. She had paid the first month’s rent and the mover out of her own small hoard, which had been saved from time to time during many years. She had but fifteen dollars left on which to live until she should receive her first week’s pay, but she felt confident she could make it do, and she was happy in a way, happier than she had been since the death of her father.
    She hurriedly improvised a temporary bed for herself from the old cot used during her father’s illness, stored away in the loft. Then, taking care to lock her door, she went at the duties that her sister-in-law had suggested she should do.
    It was not until Tuesday morning that Jennie discovered the locked door.

Chapter 5
    I t was the afternoon before the goods were to be taken away. Marion had been hoping against hope that she could keep her secret until a few loads had left the house. Then surely no one would notice her room was practically empty, or think anything of it. She had suggested to Jennie that it would be a good time for her to go to the stores for a few last things that she needed for the journey and that she herself would stay and direct the men what to take first. It seemed as if everything were going all right with her plans. But she had not calculated on the whims of her sister-in-law.
    Marion was in the kitchen packing pot and pans, salt cellars, and kitchen cutlery, labeling each box carefully so that those who unpacked it would have no trouble in finding everything. Suddenly Jennie appeared in the doorway with her eyes blazing angrily and a sneer on her tired, dirty face.
    “Marion, what on earth do you keep your door locked all the time for? You act as if you expected us to steal something!”
    Marion turned and tried to smile in the face of Jennie’s fury.
    “Why, it looked so untidy up there. All my things are spread out, you know. I started to pack my clothes this morning.”
    If only she could keep Jennie in good humor so that Tom would not have to know yet!
    “Well you certainly are a prude if there ever was one. Give me the key. I want to go in there and throw these pillows and a rug out of your window. It will save lugging them downstairs.”
    Marion turned, wondering what to do.
    “Why, let me go up and throw them down,” she said pleasantly. “Here, you sit down in this chair and finish wrapping these little things. You look tired to death.”
    But Jennie turned on her almost in a fury.
    “Give me that key!” she said. “I believe you are afraid I’ll pry into your things or maybe take something. But I’m not standing anything more from you, and I haven’t time to argue. Where is the key?”
    “Jennie!” said Marion in distress, “you know that isn’t true. I just thought it would rest you to sit down awhile.”
    “Oh, yes, rest !” sniffed Jennie. “I haven’t time for rest. And I hate doing that little finicky work anyway. Finish what you’ve begun, and give me the key.”
    Marion with set lips and cheeks turned suddenly scarlet handed over the key and went on with her work. Perhaps the revelation might as well come this way.
    “How strangely you look at me,” said Jennie as she grabbed the key. “I actually believe you don’t want me to go into your room.”
    Jennie hurried upstairs, and Marion could hear her dragging the heavy rug to the door, fitting in the key, and unlocking it. There was an instant’s silence—ominous silence, and then, angry footsteps hurried down the stairs, and Jennie burst into the kitchen again.
    “What on earth does all this mean?” screamed Jennie, her eyes fairly snapping. “I knew you were up to