Read Online Tea & Antipathy by Anita Miller - Free Book Online

evening, invariably missing the only good TV programs that were ever on. “I’m going to call a laundry,” I announced to Mrs. Grail. “While the sheets are out, we’ll use that funny-looking embroidered thing and that other funny thin blanket instead.”
    â€œAh, that’s right,” she said. “I should force them to give you sheets but if they won’t, just use them bits and pieces off the bed. More bits and pieces on this bed. Look at that,” she said, kicking a drooping ruffle.
    I examined Mrs. Stackpole’s list. “Here’s a laundry,” I said.
    â€œDon’t call
her
laundry. Call the Sunlight Laundry. Ah, they’re lovely.”
    I called the Sunlight Laundry off and on all morning and got a busy signal each time. I decided to call the general operator. “It must be out of order,” I told her. “It’s a place of business. A laundry.”
    â€œJust a minute, dear,” the operator said. She called another operator. There were a lot of clickings and buzzings.
    â€œIt’s engaged,” the second operator said.
    â€œShe says it’s a laundry, dear,” the first operator remarked.
    â€œOh, a laundry?” the second operator asked.
    â€œIt’s been engaged all morning,” the first operator told her.
    â€œWell, just a minute, dear,” the second operator said. “I’ll look into it.”
    â€œOh, thank you, dear,” the first operator said. “She’s just looking into it,” she assured me.
    â€œOkay,” I said. I didn’t mind waiting; I was reading a book. After a while the second operator returned. “It’s out of order, dear,” she said, apparently to the first operator.
    â€œOh, is it? Thank you so much, dear.”
    â€œWell, not at all, dear. That’s all right.”
    â€œGoodbye, dear.”
    â€œGoodbye.”
    The first operator came back to me. “It’s out of order, dear,” she said, unnecessarily.
    â€œHow long will it take to fix it?”
    Her voice lost some of its good humor. “Well, I don’t know, dear. A day or two. Maybe three. It’s hard to say. It depends what’s wrong with it. It’s out of order, you see. It’s not working.”
    By this time it was a quarter of two and time for us to be on our way, wandering aimlessly about London, looking for toilets for Bruce and Eric, whose stomachs were upset, possibly from the rich milk.
    â€œI’m all through now,” Mrs. Grail said. “What about them creatures?”
    â€œIt’s ten minutes of two. If they were coming, they wouldn’t come this late. They know you leave at two.”
    We all bundled into raincoats and gloves and scarves and opened the front door. On the stoop stood what were unquestionably the two creatures: a very tall, very thin girl with long red hair and a horrified expression, and a shorter, thicker male, wearing a cardboard-looking checked jacket and wild curls.
    â€œYes?” I said.
    â€œMrs. Miller?” the girl said.
    â€œYes,” I said.
    â€œAre you going out?” the girl asked, her look of horror deepening.
    â€œYes,” I said, adding, so as not to sound like Dr. Bott, “I am.”
    â€œBut it’s not two o’clock yet. Your husband said there would be someone here until two.”
    â€œIt’s six minutes of.”
    There was a silence. They stood on the stoop, staring at us with aversion and terror, and we crowded sloppily in the doorway, a welter of scarves and coats, caps and umbrellas, un-English and undisciplined.
    â€œDon’t you want to come in?” I asked.
    â€œWe did want to bring in a few things, yes,” Miss Pip said, for I had to assume this was she.
    â€œWell, we’ll wait for you.” We all, including Mrs. Grail, went into the sitting room and sat down, in our coats. Miss Pip and her nameless friend rushed up and down the stairs, carrying