The Sundial by Shirley Jackson Read Free Book Online

to Fancy.
    “What did I do?” Fancy said, staring, and Maryjane put an arm around her daughter and said, “Now you just wait one little damn minute here.”
    “She ran away,” Aunt Fanny said, “and left me all alone and I was lost.”
    “Lost?” Mrs. Halloran said. “You have lived here for forty years, Aunt Fanny; what part of the place could lose you now?”
    “I never ran away,” Fancy said. “I did not.”
    “She did not,” Maryjane said.
    “She did so,” Aunt Fanny said. “There was a gardener on a ladder clipping the hedge and Fancy ran away.”
    Mrs. Halloran frowned. “When, Fanny?” she asked. “When did all this happen?”
    “Just now—this morning. It was just getting light.”
    “No,” Mrs. Halloran said. “There are no gardeners working on the hedges yet. Your brother wants me to speak to them today.”
    “On a ladder,” Aunt Fanny said.
    “Quite impossible,” Mrs. Halloran said. “You may very well have seen your father; I would not dream of disputing a private apparition. But you could not have seen a gardener trimming a hedge. Not here, not today.”
    “Fancy saw him,” Aunt Fanny said wildly.
    “I did not,” Fancy said. “I never saw anyone this morning except my mother and my grandmother and Miss Ogilvie and Essex—”
    “We went for a walk,” Aunt Fanny said.
    “I did not go for any walk,” Fancy said.
    “She has been with me since I woke up,” Maryjane said with finality.
    “The secret garden was changed, and it was dark and the mist—”
    “Aunt Fanny,” Essex said, bending over her sympathetically, “suppose you tell us just what happened. Slowly, and try not to cry.”
    “Essex,” said Aunt Fanny, crying.
    “She is hysterical,” said Mrs. Halloran. “Slap her quite firmly in the face.”
    “Please, Aunt Fanny. Tell us exactly.”
    Aunt Fanny caught her breath and accepted a handkerchief from Miss Ogilvie to wipe her eyes. Then, although her voice was trembling, she said, “I could not sleep. I thought I would go for a walk. It was very dark, and misty, but I knew the sun was going to rise soon. I met Fancy on the terrace—”
    “You did not.”
    “Fancy, why don’t you tell the truth? I’m not blaming you; Aunt Fanny loves you.”
    “But I did n’t.”
    “Go on, Aunt Fanny,” Essex said. “We’ll sort it all out later.”
    “We walked down the side path, toward the secret garden. Then we saw the gardener and Fancy said he looked funny.”
    “I did n’t.”
    “You did , you bad wicked girl. And we came to the garden, but it was changed. Dirty. Horrible. I was lost, and I couldn’t find the way out, and Fancy ran away and I called her and called her and there were hundreds and hundreds of statues and they were warm.” Aunt Fanny shivered. “And I couldn’t find the summer house and I sat on a bench and thought about Essex and how he might help me—”
    “I am not sure how much of this nonsense I can hear,” Mrs. Halloran said.
    “—and then I found the summer house and started to run to the house but it was so dark and the mist was so thick and when I came to the sundial my father was there.”
    “I saw her running,” Miss Ogilvie said. “At the breakfast table, I glanced out and thought, ‘There comes Aunt Fanny, running down the lawn.’ I confess I was startled. But it was quite light.”
    “The sun has been shining brightly for two hours,” Essex said. “There is not a cloud in the sky.”
    “It was dark,” Aunt Fanny said.
    “I saw you quite clearly running down the lawn,” Miss Ogilvie said. “The sun was shining and I thought, ‘There comes Aunt Fanny, running down the lawn.’”
    “What did your father have to say?” Mrs. Halloran inquired curiously. “I hope he sent his best to the rest of us?”
    Aunt Fanny sat up suddenly, staring. “I forgot,” she said. “I forgot to tell you, all of you, and I was supposed to bring the message right back here.” She began to cry again. “He will be angry,”