Mistress of the House by Eleanor Farnes Read Free Book Online Page A

came into the room. We were laughing about something, and Mrs. Lorney gave us an indulgent smile in sympathy, and Roger gave us a queer look, teasing. But Jessica glared, as she always does. Max just put his hand under my elbow, in the most impersonal of polite gestures, saying: “Come over to the fire and warm up. It’s cold in the office.” And Jessica banged her iron down on the table, with baffled fury, as if she wished she had me there under it I pretended not to notice. I sat down and picked up my book, and she came over to the fire to change her iron (they have the old flat-irons which are heated on top of the stove), and went back again. Max took up the paper, the radio poured out its soothing syrup, Mrs. Lorney darned, everything seemed very peaceful. Then suddenly Jessica exclaimed, and there was a nasty smell of burning. “Hallo,” said Max, “something gone west,” and we all looked over to the ironing table. Well, there it was, my latest and prettiest nightie, with a huge hole in the shape of the iron right through the back and front Mrs. Lorney said “Jess,” in a very sharp tone, and Jessica said: “Well, I couldn’t help it. The iron’s not so very hot. It’s the stuff.” She didn’t apologize. For a moment I was so angry I couldn’t speak. It was so obvious to me that she had done it on purpose. And then I thought that I simply would not let her goad me. I said: “What a pity. Of course, you need a warm iron for that kind of satin, not a hot one. She stood with the nightdress in her hands, the lovely stuff spilling out in folds and the ribbons hanging down, and the huge, ugly burn in the middle of it. “Well, it’s no good now,” she said, and there was a queer note of satisfaction in her voice. “Oh, I’ll make something out of it,” I said, and went and took it out of her hands. Mrs. Lorney went to the table, and picked out all the things that belonged to me and put them aside, saying that she would do them herself another time. Max looked at me, and looked at the stuff and said I must let them get me another to replace it. “Certainly not,” I said. “Please think no more about it. I’m sure it was an accident. These synthetic materials are awkward to iron.” And Jessica gave me such a smug little smile that I knew definitely it was no accident.
    She’s the only fly in the ointment here. She seems to want to dislike me, but I’m not going to allow her to spoil the rest of the family for me.
    My hand aches with writing, so I must stop. Max says I can use the typewriter any time I please, so perhaps, when I have a lot to tell you, I will type my letters in future. Don’t forget the camera, will you, and write to me soon. Give my love to Beryl. I’ll send you both some cream for the weekend.
    Thine,
    Laurie.

 
    CHAPTER FOUR
    Laurie alighted from the bus, carrying her several parcels, and set out on her walk to the farm. She rather wished that it was not quite so far, and debated whether she should stay in the village for a much needed cup of tea, or wait until she reached the farm, when she would enjoy it much more. The matter was settled for her, when a car drew up behind her and a voice said: “Like a lift, lady?”
    She turned and smiled into Max’s face.
    “I’m very pleased to see you ,” she said.
    “I thought you would be.”
    “You didn’t come specially to meet me?”
    “Not specially, but intentionally. I had to come down to the blacksmith, so I came when I could meet your bus.”
    “Well, I call that most considerate.” Laurie heaped her parcels on the back seat and got in beside Max.
    “You don’t want to be worn out before you go to a dance,” he said.
    “I shall soon recover, but I admit that I could do with some tea.”
    “If there’s any forthcoming. The whole house is in a state of turmoil. Mother’s flying round doing last-minute things for the supper. Jess is washing her hair. Roger’s getting in everybody’s way. I really felt safer