Read Online Let Me Tell You by Shirley Jackson - Free Book Online

astonished when Mr. Sanson said, as casually as he took her money, “Friend of yours was in yesterday, Mrs. Spencer. Moving into town for the summer.”
    “A friend of mine? Of
mine
?”
    “Mrs. Oberon. Nice-talking lady.”
    “A friend of
mine
?”
    “Said she was.” His old eyes lifted, shrewd. “She didn’t have any money with her,” he said.
    “Really—” Mrs. Spencer gasped, shocked. “You don’t expect
me
to pay…?”
    Mr. Sanson smiled oddly. “Seen a lot of people come through here,” he said, looking past Mrs. Spencer to the woman waiting behind her. “Back when this was a little country store, I used to know the ones I could trust. Still do. Can tell them every time.
Her,
I could trust. Being,” and he looked again at Mrs. Spencer, “as she was a friend of
yours.
”
    “I absolutely refuse—”
    “Besides,” Mr. Sanson went on reasonably, reaching past Mrs. Spencer to pull the cart behind her, “Liz Babcock rented them Carl’s old farm down by the river, and I guess they’ll be around for a while.”
    —
    “Those new people moved in,” Mrs. Finley said, breathing heavily as she leaned to take up the pail and mop. “Thought sure you’d be down there helping out.”
    “What new people?” Mrs. Spencer asked. “I want all those shelves washed today, Mrs. Finley.”
    “Those friends of yours. Down to Liz Babcock’s old man’s farmhouse.”
    “Those people are not—”
    “Half the town’s down there anyway. They likely don’t need
you.
” Mrs. Finley’s eye, on the bare edge of insolence, turned to her mop. “Nice folks,” Mrs. Finley said. “Easy to get along with, I’d think.”
    Mrs. Finley is really too old and too heavy for this kind of work, Mrs. Spencer thought; I ought to start looking around for someone younger.
    “New kid in my class,” Donnie announced over his supper. “Nice guy.”
    “Donnie, dear. ‘Guy’ is not a civilized word.”
    “Nice fellow,” said Donnie primly. “He’s got a two-wheel bike. And a microscope. And a dog. A
dog.
”
    “Animals are very well for the open country, dear. But with our lovely lawns and our pretty flowers— Imagine what a dog would do, digging and scratching!”
    “And he’s got a big brother who’s teaching him to pitch. He’s already the best marbles player in the school.”
    “What’s his name?” Irma asked. “Donnie? What’s his name? Donnie?”
    “Irma glirma,” Donnie said. “Irma dirma epiglirma.”
    “Donnie? Donnie?”
    “Joe,” Donnie said, reverently. “Joe.”
    “Joe what, dear?”
    “
I
don’t know. Joe something. You know what? He’s got a baseball with all the Yankees’ autographs on it. He’s going to bring it to school.”
    “Really, Donnie.” Mrs. Spencer spoke with some distaste. “Do you know what his father does? What kind of clothes does he wear? Does he speak nicely?”
    “Sure,” her son said, “sure,” and bent his head over his pudding.
    —
    After considerable hesitation, and without quite knowing why, Mrs. Spencer brought herself reluctantly to speak to her husband. She put her slim dessert spoon down on the edge of her plate, touched the handle of her coffee cup, and said, not raising her eyes, “Harry, I’m worried about something.”
    “Money?” He looked up, concerned. “Money, Margaret? Surely there’s no need—”
    “No.” She smiled, a little. “Not money, Harry. No, I’m worried about these people, the ones who have just moved into town.”
    “The Oberons?” He was puzzled.
    “You
know
them?”
    “Sure,” he said. “Joe and Rosie. They’ve been in the bank. What worries you about
them
?”
    “They’ve been using my name. Nothing serious, of course, and I’m sure everyone around town knows me well enough to recognize the kind of people I know, but they told Mr. Sanson at the market that they were friends of mine, and today I was disturbed when the florist just happened to mention that Mrs.—what
is
the name? Oberon—was buying