Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day by Winifred Watson Read Free Book Online Page B

and end safely somewhere. But you’ve got courage and I haven’t.”
    “I’m glad you think so.”
    “Agreed to the courage,” said Miss Pettigrew firmly. “Now you’ve got to use it.”
    “Oh.”
    “He’s gone,” said Miss Pettigrew.
    “Yes.”
    “And when he went through the door you thought the world went with him.”
    “You do understand things.”
    “Do you feel exactly the same now?” demanded Miss Pettigrew.
    “Well. No. Not now. Not so badly. Come to think of it. No.”
    “I mean he’s away, but you can bear him away.”
    “Well. Yes.”
    “And tomorrow isn’t ten years away?”
    “Why, no. I suppose it isn’t. I’ll survive.”
    “Well, you see how it is,” said Miss Pettigrew earnestly. “It’s only when he’s there. When he’s gone you know you can live without him. Will you always remember that, so that however hard it is at the moment, will you promise me that every time in future he asks you to do anything you’ll only agree to give him an answer later and wait until he’s been gone fifteen minutes before deciding, when the glamour has ceased to function?”
    “It’s a difficult promise,” said Miss LaFosse, “but I give it. I know it’s for my own good. I can never thank you for what you’ve done for me today. You’ve saved me twice. You know, I’ve never turned Nick away before. I didn’t think I ever really could, however much I hoped. Now I’ve done it, and do you know? I feel quite all right now. I feel kind of fine. I feel, I’ve done it once, why can’t I do it again? I feel, why, I can do it again…I feel,” said Miss LaFosse, warming up, “just grand. Free. Maybe I can resist him.”
    “That,” said Miss Pettigrew, “is the spirit.”
    She leaned back in her chair. Miss LaFosse leaned back in hers and sank into a contemplative dream. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked. Slowly its ticking penetrated Miss Pettigrew’s brain. She turned her head and looked at the clock. The pointers were racing round and Miss Pettigrew remembered where she was. There was nothing to keep her there now. Good manners demanded her departure. She must state her errand and go. She must give up her position of equality as Miss LaFosse’s ally and take her correct one of humble applicant for a job, which she felt in her bones she would never get.
    She knew too much about the private affairs of Miss LaFosse. Miss Pettigrew had endured many hard knocks from human nature and understood how intolerable to a mistress such a situation would be. She felt a hopeless, bitter unhappiness invade her. But there was nothing she could do. She must at last get her presence explained and end this wonderful adventure.
    She couldn’t bear to do it. She had never in her life before wanted more to stay in any place. She felt she couldn’t endure to leave this happy, careless atmosphere, despite momentary upheavals, where some one was kind to her and thought her wonderful. How could she possibly live out her life never knowing what happened to Phil, whether Nick’s charms bore down Miss LaFosse’s susceptible defences, who Michael was and what he was like? She felt the tears of loneliness and exclusion sting her eyes.
    “I’ll wait,” thought Miss Pettigrew dully, “three more minutes. I’ll wait ‘til the pointers move three minutes before speaking. Surely I can have three more minutes of being happy.”
    She prayed desperately for a knock on the door. A knock on Miss LaFosse’s door heralded adventure. It was not like an ordinary house, when the knocker would be the butcher, or baker or candlestick-maker. A knock on Miss LaFosse’s door would mean excitement, drama, a new crisis to be dealt with. Oh, if only for once the Lord would be good and cause some miracle to happen to keep her here, to see for one day how life could be lived, so that for all the rest of her dull, uneventful days, when things grew bad, she could look back in her mind and dwell on the time when for one perfect