The Tale of Holly How by Susan Wittig Albert Read Free Book Online Page B

two women scrubbed and scraped and emptied buckets of dirty water and filled fresh ones, until the milk and treacle and sugar and flour had been washed completely off the floor.
    “Well,” Sarah said, getting to her feet, “I don’t think this floor has been so clean since dear Miss Tolliver was alive. I can bake a very nice loaf of bread, but I daresay I’m not nearly the housekeeper she was.” She made a rueful face. “The flour does have a way of getting all over, even when I’m careful.”
    Tactfully, Dimity said, “I see that the kettle is hot. I’ll make us some tea.” And five minutes later, the two were sitting down to freshly brewed cups of tea and a plate of Sarah’s lemon bars, which were decorated with tiny bits of candied orange peel.
    “Cover those lemon bars, Dim,” Sarah said, handing her a napkin, “or the thunderflies will track all over them with their nasty little feet. And then tell me what you came to tell me. You sounded as if you were dreadfully upset about something.”
    “What I came to—” Dimity laughed. “Oh, for pity’s sake, Sarah. Your calamity drove mine right out of my head.”
    “If a little thing like treacle could distract you, your calamity must not have been so calamitous after all.” Sarah took out a packet of cigarettes and lit one. Cigarettes, along with the trousers and the bicycle, marked her as a New Woman.
    “Yes, it is,” Dimity replied, sobering. “It’s horrible. It’s appalling. For Margaret Nash, at least. And for the children at the school. And on top of all that, there’s the Flower Show. Mrs. Wharton can’t possibly be permitted to judge the dahlias again, or we shall have a rebellion on our hands. But I don’t know how to tell her without—” She was interrupted by a knock at the kitchen door. “Why, Miss Potter!” she exclaimed in surprise, glancing up. “I didn’t know you were back in the village! How very nice to see you.”
    “I thought we agreed,” Sarah said sternly, “that we would all use first names. Hullo, Beatrix. If you’ll look down, you’ll see that you’re walking on the cleanest floor that ever was.”
    “How extraordinary,” Beatrix said, bending over for a close examination. “It’s cleaner than Mathilda Crook’s kitchen floor, which is saying a great deal, considering that she washes it every morning, whether it needs it or not.” She straightened, her china-blue eyes twinkling. “I don’t suppose I ought to ask how it got to be so clean.”
    “A great lot of treacle and milk and even more elbow grease,” Sarah rejoined cheerfully. “However, all’s well that ends well. Dim has a story she’s dying to tell us, though. You’ll want a cup of tea whilst you listen. And you should try one of my lemon bars, too. You’ll like them.” She got up and fetched another cup, poured it full, and set it in front of Beatrix. “All right, Dim,” she commanded. “Fire away.”
    With a sigh, Dimity told Beatrix and Sarah about Lady Longford’s visit. “It’s her intention,” she added, “that the trustees interview Dr. Gainwell as soon as possible after he arrives. She insists that he’s the best-qualified person for the job. Anyway, he’s the one she wants,” she added, “no matter whether he’s qualified or not.”
    “I don’t understand,” Sarah said, frowning. She tapped her cigarette ash into her saucer. “Who is this Lady Longfellow, that she can dictate who is going to be the next head teacher?”
    “Longford,” Dimity corrected.
    “Oh, I know her name,” Sarah said, waving away several inquisitive thunderflies. “I know where she lives, too, for I’ve delivered there. Her cook, Mrs. Beever, orders two loaves a week of my best white bread, and wants a ginger cake for this coming Wednesday. Her ladyship professes a great liking for my ginger cake, it seems. She thinks it helps to settle her stomach. I oughtn’t speak ill of a customer, I suppose. But who is she?”
    “She’s the