Read Online The Fiend by Margaret Millar - Free Book Online Page B

I’m downgrading my­self, that I’d better look on the bright side of things, start putting on a front—that’s all true, isn’t it?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Ben said. “Eat your supper.”
    â€œHow can I eat, not knowing?”
    â€œThe rest of us eat, not knowing. And work and sleep, not knowing.” He added in a gentler voice, “You’re doing all right, Charlie. You’re holding down a job, you’ve got a nice girlfriend, you’re keeping your nose clean—you’re doing fine, just fine.”
    â€œAnd you’re not mad at me any more for being late?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI flooded the engine, see. I had to wait and wait for the gas to drain out of it. I thought of calling you, but then I thought, Ben won’t be worrying, he knows I’m behaving myself, keeping my nose clean ….” I watched from the road. The house is a long way back among the trees but I could see the child sitting at one of the front windows. Poor Jessie, poor sweetheart, rest­ing her little bruised body. Why don’t her parents protect her? If anything happens to the girl it will be their fault, and their fault alone.
    (6)
    The Arlingtons arrived home from the beach at seven o’clock and Virginia went directly to her room, without saying a word. Howard was in the kitchen unpacking the picnic basket when the dog, Chap, began barking and pawing at the back door.
    Howard called out, “Who’s there?”
    â€œIt’s me, Uncle Howard. Jessie.”
    â€œOh. Well, come on in.”
    Jessie went in, wearing a robe over her pajamas and carrying the book that weighed nearly half as much as she did. “Is Aunt Virginia here?”
    â€œOh, she’s here all right, but she’s incommunicado.”
    â€œDoes that mean in the bathroom?”
    Howard laughed. “No, it means she’s sore at me.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œA dozen reasons. She’s sunburned, she’s got sand in her hair, she doesn’t like the way she looks in a bathing suit, a bee stung her on the foot—all my fault, of course.” Howard put the picnic basket, now empty, on the top shelf of the broom closet, and closed the door. “When you grow up, are you going to fuss about things like that?”
    â€œI don’t think so.”
    â€œAtta girl.”
    Jessie put the book on the table, then leaned over to pet the dog. Chap, smelling the butter that had dribbled down her chin from an ear of corn, began licking it off. Jessie was so flattered she stood the tickling without a giggle, though it was almost un­bearable. “Do you think Chap likes me, Uncle Howard?”
    â€œObviously.”
    â€œDoes he like everybody?”
    â€œAs a matter of fact, no,” Howard said dryly. “He doesn’t even like me.”
    â€œWhy? Is he afraid of you?”
    â€œAfraid of me? Why should he be? What gave you that idea?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œWell, I don’t beat him, kid, if that’s what you mean. He’s just been spoiled rotten by women. All he has to do is roll his eyes and he gets a T-bone steak. A little more,” he added, “is required of the human male though God knows what it is.”
    Jessie wasn’t sure what he was talking about but she realized he was in a bad mood and she wished Aunt Virginia would come out of communicado.
    Howard said, “Who’s the book for?”
    â€œAunt Virginia. She gave it to me this afternoon, only when my mother saw it she told me I had to give it back.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œIt cost twenty dollars.”
    â€œOh?” Howard opened the book and looked at the price on the inside back jacket. “So it did. Twenty dollars.”
    He sounded very calm but his hands were shaking and both the child and the dog sensed trouble.
    â€œVirginia!”
    There was no response from the bedroom.
    â€œYou’d better come out