Read Online Pursuit of a Parcel by Patricia Wentworth - Free Book Online Page B

relative living with her—a woman. It is extremely wrong of Mr. Merridew to leave her here by herself. Anything might happen.”
    â€œIt is certainly rather dull for her,” said Mrs. Canterbury in her most provoking voice.
    Delia had edged out of the circle. She was tacking her pattern together by the window, when Cynthia perched on the arm of her chair and leaned towards her, whispering, “Look at the Murdle—she’s done it again! Don’t you simply hate to have her copying you like that?”
    Delia coloured. She said quickly, “I wish she wouldn’t.”
    Cynthia giggled. “I should think you did! This is the worst one yet. Why do you stand it? I wouldn’t.”
    Delia was silent. She couldn’t tell Cynthia that Miss Murdle always made her feel as if she were eating cake in front of a starving person. She went on taking long stitches in her pattern and hoped that Cynthia would talk about something else. But when she did, Delia would have liked to have changed her wish. Cynthia leaned right down and said in her ear, “ Have you quarrelled with Antony?”
    Delia changed colour again. “Why should I?”
    Cynthia giggled. “Lots of reasons. I should think he’d be rather fun to quarrel with. What was it all about—another girl?”
    â€œOf course not!
    Cynthia slid down from the arm and sat beside her.
    â€œWell, you mayn’t think so, but there always is another girl. So if you really want him, I shouldn’t keep it up too long. They go and weep on the other girl’s shoulder if you do. I’d grab on to him if I were you. It’s awfully disinterested of me to give you this good advice, because I wouldn’t half mind Antony myself, but no one can say I don’t play fair, only if you ever really do have a complete blow-up with him, you might just let me know.”
    Delia laughed. She didn’t have to try; the laugh just came bubbling up because Cynthia was so silly. She said, “I’ll be sure to let you know.”
    And just then the door opened and Parker came in, looking as he always did, the picture of a respectable middle-aged manservant with something on his mind. When he first came to Mr. Merridew, Delia and Antony used to wonder what it was. He was half of a married couple, but that didn’t seem to be enough to account for it, because Mrs. Parker was a comfortable, fat woman and an angel cook. It took them nearly a year to find out that it was cross-word puzzles that were weighing upon him.
    He couldn’t let them alone, and he never managed to get them out.
    He came across the room now, bent down a little, and said in his superior, worried voice, “Mr. Holt would like to see you, Miss Delia, if you can spare the time. I have put him in the study.…”
    Delia came into the study, long and slim in her dress of leaf-green wool. Emanuel Holt thought how pretty she was. What he would call a real lady too, with the same friendly way with her whether she was speaking to him or to the grandest of Mr. Merridew’s friends. Mr. Merridew had some very grand friends, which was of course good for the firm. The family was well connected. Miss Delia’s mother had been the Hon. Cordelia Luton, but she didn’t give herself any airs on that account. He had known her since she was a little girl, and it was a thing he had always admired in her. She shook hands with him as if he was one of Mr. Merridew’s friends now, and said he must have some tea. “And I expect you’d hate to come and have it with the work-party—I expect Parker told you they were all here this afternoon—so I’ve told him to bring it along here for you, and I needn’t go back for ten minutes or so.”
    She was taller than he was. He had to tilt his face up a little to talk to her.
    â€œDo sit down, Mr. Holt.”
    The fire had been lighted and the room was cosy. Emanuel sat down in one of Mr.