The Watersplash by Patricia Wentworth Read Free Book Online

There did ought to be a bridge, but look what everything costs these days. Pity it didn’t get seen to when labour was a penny a day back in Queen Elizabeth’s time.”
    Susan laughed.
    “A penny a day bought as much as a good many shillings do now. It paid the rent of a cottage and fed and clothed a family.”
    “And a pity is isn’t like that now!” said Mrs. Alexander.
    As Susan went back she wasn’t thinking about the deterioration in the value of money, or about Fullerby, or William Jackson, or even about poor Annie. She had two pictures in her mind, and do what she would, she couldn’t blot them out. In one of them she was standing in the dusty lane between Embank and Greenings with her suit-case at her feet and her hands stretched out to Edward Random. In the other Clarice Dean was doing practically the same thing in the middle of the village street. This picture was a great deal brighter and more distinct than the other. Clarice was a great deal brighter and prettier than the rather shadowy figure of Susan Wayne. She had a humiliated sense of having been outdone. Ridiculous, but there it was. She had felt warm and friendly towards Edward. She had showed it with nothing at all in her mind except that friendly warmth. And then Clarice had to do practically the same thing and do it a great deal better. There had been a sparkle—a glow of colour—
    She came into the lodge, and found Emmeline in the back room lying flat on the floor trying to scoop the kitten out from under the tallboy with a dusting-brush, whilst Amina wailed from the kitchen. With every tiny claw the kitten clung to the carpet.
    “Perhaps if we took the drawers out—”
    “These old things are generally solid right through.” They took out the bottom drawer, which was immensely heavy because it was full of photograph albums. As Susan had feared, the bottom of the tallboy was solid oak, but right in the middle where the heaviest album had been the boards had parted and there was a definite crack. After about half an hour of the most exhausting and exhaustive pressing, poking, and levering with a chisel they had almost reached the point of deciding that there was nothing to be done that way, when the kitten, who had probably begun to feel hungry, came crawling out on its belly like a little black snake, fixed them with a reproachful stare, and yawned in Emmeline’s face.
    It was not until the back room had resumed its usual littered appearance, most of the things which Emmeline had intended to throw away having been reprieved, that she said to Susan in quite her ordinary voice,
    “Arnold has been here this morning. He wants to turn me out. But I don’t think we will tell Edward just for the present. I am afraid it would worry him.”
    CHAPTER VIII
    Edward stayed late with Mr. Barr. It was just short of ten o’clock and black dark when he came down to the water-splash and got out a pocket torch to see him over the stepping-stones, though for the matter of that his feet would have found them easily enough with no more than memory to guide. There had been heavy rain in the night, and the stream was full. The stones were slippery and the big flat one half way across had a film of water over it. He took them with a run and a jump, and was aware of being relaxed, and freer than he had been during the five arid years which lay behind him. It was not raining now—it had not rained all day—but the air was damp, and soft, and very mild. “East, west, home’s best.” The words rang in his mind. There wasn’t any place like the one where the world had come alive to you, where you knew every stick and stone, every man, woman and child, where you could look around you and know that the men of your blood had had their part in the shaping of things for three hundred years.
    He came up the slope from the splash and saw the church tower black against the sky. A faint glow showed the tracery in the window by the organ loft. The still air carried the