he’s a devil, it can only be a devil send said Thomas. Just then a car on the Godsend road hooted loudly and he added:
“There’s Old Nick come for you.”
I saw Rose start.
“Get me down!” she cried in a queer voice and flopped on to the rack. For one awful second I feared the boys might not be expecting the strain, but they were ready and lowered her carefully. As soon as her feet were near the ground she jumped off and sat down on the floor.
“The car horn startled me,” she said rather shakily, “and I looked down and went giddy.”
I asked her to describe her exact feelings up there, but she said she hadn’t had any until she turned giddy. That is one great difference between us: I would have had any number of feelings and have wanted to remember them all; she would just be thinking of wishing on the stone head.
“You never did wish, did you?” I asked. She laughed.
“Oh, I said a few private things all right.”
Topaz came downstairs just then, in her black oilskins, sou’wester hat and rubber boots, looking as if she were going to man the life boat. She said her dyed tea-gown had shrunk so much that she couldn’t breathe in it and Rose could have it. Then she strode out, leaving the door wide open.
“Don’t swallow the night, will you?” Thomas called after her.
“Your luck’s started already,” I told Rose, as she dashed upstairs to try the tea-gown on. Thomas went to do his homework in his room, so I thought I might as well start my bath and asked Stephen if he minded me having it in the kitchen; I generally do have it there but, as it means he has to keep out of the way for a good long time, I always feel apologetic. He tactfully said he had a job to do in the barn and that he would help me get the bath ready.
“But it’s still full of dye,” I remembered. We emptied it and Stephen swilled it out.
“But I’m afraid the dye may still come off on you, Miss Cassandra,” he said.
“Hadn’t you better use the bathroom?”
The bathroom bath is so enormous that there is never enough hot water for more than a few inches, and a draught blows down the tower. I decided I would rather risk the dye. We carried the bath to the fire and Stephen baled hot water from the copper and helped me to make a screen of clothes-horses with the green sheets on-as a rule, I use dust-sheets for this. As our clothes-horses are fully five feet high, I always have a most respectable and private bath, but I do feel more comfortable if I have the whole kitchen to myself.
“What will you have to read tonight, Miss Cassandra?”
asked Stephen. I told him Vol. H To I of our old Encyclopedia, Man and Superman (which I have just re-borrowed from the Vicar-I feel I may have missed some of the finer points when I first read it five years ago) and last week’s Home Chat, kindly lent by Miss Marcy. I like plenty of choice in my bath. Stephen set them all out for me while I collected my washing things. And then, after he had lit his lantern to go to the barn, he suddenly presented me with a whole twopenny bar of nut-milk chocolate.
“How did you come by that?” I gasped.
He explained that he had got it on credit, on the strength of having a job.
“I know you like to eat in the bath, Miss Cassandra.
What with books and chocolate, there’s not much else you could have in it, is there his Except, perhaps, a wireless.”
“Well, don’t go getting a wireless on credit,” I laughed; and then thanked him for the chocolate and offered him some.
But he wouldn’t take any and went off to the barn.
I was just getting into the bath when Heloise whined at the back door and had to be let in. Of course she wanted to come to the fire, which was a slight bore as she is no asset to a bath -her loving paws are apt to scrape one painfully. However, she seemed sleepy and we settled down amicably.
It was wonderfully cozy inside my tall, draught-proof screen; and the rosy glow from the fire turned the green sheets to a
“There’s Old Nick come for you.”
I saw Rose start.
“Get me down!” she cried in a queer voice and flopped on to the rack. For one awful second I feared the boys might not be expecting the strain, but they were ready and lowered her carefully. As soon as her feet were near the ground she jumped off and sat down on the floor.
“The car horn startled me,” she said rather shakily, “and I looked down and went giddy.”
I asked her to describe her exact feelings up there, but she said she hadn’t had any until she turned giddy. That is one great difference between us: I would have had any number of feelings and have wanted to remember them all; she would just be thinking of wishing on the stone head.
“You never did wish, did you?” I asked. She laughed.
“Oh, I said a few private things all right.”
Topaz came downstairs just then, in her black oilskins, sou’wester hat and rubber boots, looking as if she were going to man the life boat. She said her dyed tea-gown had shrunk so much that she couldn’t breathe in it and Rose could have it. Then she strode out, leaving the door wide open.
“Don’t swallow the night, will you?” Thomas called after her.
“Your luck’s started already,” I told Rose, as she dashed upstairs to try the tea-gown on. Thomas went to do his homework in his room, so I thought I might as well start my bath and asked Stephen if he minded me having it in the kitchen; I generally do have it there but, as it means he has to keep out of the way for a good long time, I always feel apologetic. He tactfully said he had a job to do in the barn and that he would help me get the bath ready.
“But it’s still full of dye,” I remembered. We emptied it and Stephen swilled it out.
“But I’m afraid the dye may still come off on you, Miss Cassandra,” he said.
“Hadn’t you better use the bathroom?”
The bathroom bath is so enormous that there is never enough hot water for more than a few inches, and a draught blows down the tower. I decided I would rather risk the dye. We carried the bath to the fire and Stephen baled hot water from the copper and helped me to make a screen of clothes-horses with the green sheets on-as a rule, I use dust-sheets for this. As our clothes-horses are fully five feet high, I always have a most respectable and private bath, but I do feel more comfortable if I have the whole kitchen to myself.
“What will you have to read tonight, Miss Cassandra?”
asked Stephen. I told him Vol. H To I of our old Encyclopedia, Man and Superman (which I have just re-borrowed from the Vicar-I feel I may have missed some of the finer points when I first read it five years ago) and last week’s Home Chat, kindly lent by Miss Marcy. I like plenty of choice in my bath. Stephen set them all out for me while I collected my washing things. And then, after he had lit his lantern to go to the barn, he suddenly presented me with a whole twopenny bar of nut-milk chocolate.
“How did you come by that?” I gasped.
He explained that he had got it on credit, on the strength of having a job.
“I know you like to eat in the bath, Miss Cassandra.
What with books and chocolate, there’s not much else you could have in it, is there his Except, perhaps, a wireless.”
“Well, don’t go getting a wireless on credit,” I laughed; and then thanked him for the chocolate and offered him some.
But he wouldn’t take any and went off to the barn.
I was just getting into the bath when Heloise whined at the back door and had to be let in. Of course she wanted to come to the fire, which was a slight bore as she is no asset to a bath -her loving paws are apt to scrape one painfully. However, she seemed sleepy and we settled down amicably.
It was wonderfully cozy inside my tall, draught-proof screen; and the rosy glow from the fire turned the green sheets to a
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