The Sundial by Shirley Jackson Read Free Book Online

come.”
    â€œFather—Father—when?”
    â€œThe father comes to his children and tells them there is danger. There is danger. Within the father there is no fear; the father comes to his children. Tell them in the house.”
    â€œPlease—”
    â€œWhen the sky is fair again the children will be safe; the father comes to his children who will be saved. Tell them in the house that they will be saved. Do not let them leave the house; say to them: Do not fear, the father will guard the children. Go into your father’s house and say these things. Tell them there is danger.”
    Aunt Fanny, formerly Frances Halloran, put her hand down onto the sundial and found it warm. “Father?” she said into the sudden bright sunlight, but there was nothing there. “You were never so kind to me before,” said Aunt Fanny brokenly.
    Then, screaming for Essex, she fled, and crashed against the terrace door and wildly pounded it open, to stop in complete silence, staring madly at the astonished faces around the breakfast table, eyes wide, mouths open, regarding her.
    â€œI want to tell you,” Aunt Fanny said and then—to the embarrassed surprise of everyone in the room, none of whom had ever had any occasion to believe that Aunt Fanny was capable of a single, definite, clear-cut, unembellished act—Aunt Fanny fainted.

2
    Essex carried Aunt Fanny into the drawing room, since it was the nearest place with a couch to put her on; Miss Ogilvie followed, panting, with a glass of water, Fancy tagged curiously, Maryjane brought two aspirin from the bottle she always carried in her pocket, and Mrs. Halloran, finishing her coffee without haste, came into the drawing room at last to find Aunt Fanny, surrounded, on the couch, turning and twisting her head and murmuring incoherently.
    â€œChafe her wrists and loosen her stays,” Mrs. Halloran suggested, seating herself in an armchair from which she could observe Aunt Fanny, “burn a feather under her nose. Raise her feet. Please do not neglect any possible attention; I would not have Aunt Fanny think that we took her malaise lightly.”
    â€œSomething has clearly frightened her out of her senses,” Miss Ogilvie said, more sharply than she customarily spoke to Mrs. Halloran.
    â€œA feat,” said Mrs. Halloran. “Incredible.”
    â€œIt was my father,” Aunt Fanny said clearly. She sat up, resisting Miss Ogilvie and Maryjane, and looked directly at Mrs. Halloran. “My father was there,” she said.
    â€œI hope you gave him my dutiful regards,” Mrs. Halloran said.
    â€œBy the sundial, waiting for me; he called me and called me.” Aunt Fanny began to cry. “You wicked wicked
wicked
girl,” she said to Fancy.
    â€œWhat 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.”
    â€œShe ran away,” Aunt Fanny said, “and left me all alone and I was lost.”
    â€œLost?” Mrs. Halloran said. “You have lived here for forty years, Aunt Fanny; what part of the place could lose you now?”
    â€œI never ran away,” Fancy said. “I did not.”
    â€œShe did not,” Maryjane said.
    â€œShe 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?”
    â€œJust now—this morning. It was just getting light.”
    â€œNo,” Mrs. Halloran said. “There are no gardeners working on the hedges yet. Your brother wants me to speak to them today.”
    â€œOn a ladder,” Aunt Fanny said.
    â€œQuite 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,