Friends and Lovers by Joan Smith Read Free Book Online Page A

off.”
    “I am not playing father. I am their guardian, and uncle. As to their being everything to you, I find that an extremely unhealthy statement. I don’t want them smothered with love, growing up a pair of spoiled brats. Another woman’s children should not be everything to you. If you feel the need of someone to mother, I suggest you follow the more normal course and get married, preferably not to the person who has been battering our ears the past hour with his raucous noise. It is incomprehensible to me that you chose to have him present at this first meeting with your relatives.”
    He arose on this bold speech, sniffed, and began a disdainful bow.
    “We are not finished yet. I don’t mean to let the matter rest here.”
    Mr. Everett decided to return. He had been peeping in at the window, and saw my consternation. “Is there anything I can do to help you, Miss Harris?” he asked, with a quick, questioning look at Menrod.
    “Nothing, thank you, Mr. Everett. I can handle this myself.”
    “If you are sure, then I had best be getting back to Oakdene. I want to oversee preparations for our party. I shall come back and pick you and your mother up around seven-thirty, if that suits you.”
    “That is fine. We’ll be ready. Good day.”
    Menrod and Everett nodded, neither saying a word about being pleased to have met, nor expressing any desire to continue the acquaintance. No sooner had we got rid of him than Mama returned with the children, making it impossible to continue the battle. Ralph attached himself to his uncle like a limpet, while Gwen began yawning and asking when they were to go home.
    “Right away,” he told her. “Shall I return tomorrow, Miss Harris? I know you will agree this is not the optimum moment to continue our discussion. Shall we say, ten in the morning? I have an appointment in Reading at eleven, so will be passing by.”
    “Excellent. I would not want you to go out of your way.”
    “Thank your grandmother for the party, children,” he ordered.
    Gwen thanked us on both their behalfs, then remembered to thank me for the doll.
    “She didn’t give me nothing,” Ralph was heard to say as they left, the first unsolicited statement to leave his mouth.
    “Anything, Ralph,” his uncle told him, correcting his grammar but not his manners.
    “That was very pleasant,” Mama said, with a sigh of relief. “I am happy to see Menrod means to share them with us. It will be nice to see Hettie’s children once a week or so. Gwen is very like Hettie at the same age. You would not remember, Wendy, but Hettie had that same engaging manner. A pity little Ralph makes so strange, but we will win him over.”
    Mrs. Pudge came to the doorway, folded her hands on top of her white apron, and scowled. “They liked the Chinese cake very well,” she congratulated herself. “It is nearly gone.”
    It was our cue for more strenuous praise of her cooking, followed by her reciting the many difficulties that had littered her path in its execution—the cream refusing to whip, the almonds not taking to blanching with any ease, the stove smoking and burning the first batch of tarts. I hardly listened; I was too distraught, thinking of reasons to proffer why the children should come to Lady Anne’s cottage.
    “Why is Menrod returning tomorrow?” Mama asked.
    “To talk about the children staying with us,” I answered.
    “They are so happy with him, I believe you ought to give up on that scheme,” she answered reasonably.
    “You know he is never home two days in a row. They will be terribly neglected. Would you not like to have Gwen with us, the very picture of her mama?” I tempted.
    “I am fond of Gwen, but I am not at all sure Ralph would be... He is very like Peter, is he not?”
    “Peter was not so shy.”
    “No, but he was hard to please, like Ralph,” she said, making her remark clearer.
    “Will you be wanting any dinner at all, or was the tea enough to suit you?” Mrs. Pudge