The Welfare of the Dead by Lee Jackson Read Free Book Online

“sights”.’
    â€˜I have nothing of the sort,’ protests Mrs. Woodrow.
    â€˜I expect we will have an opportunity to talk this evening,’ continues Woodrow, even as he passes his house-guest and leaves the room.
    Annabel turns to bid him goodbye but finds herself addressing the empty doorway. She turns back to face her cousin, whose features betray a certain displeasurewith her husband’s abrupt manner. Nonetheless, Mrs. Woodrow immediately forces them into a more benign arrangement.
    â€˜Do ignore Woodrow; he is awfully busy. He means nothing by it, my dear. Now, what shall we do today? We must see something, I think – when one is fortunate enough to enjoy the advantages of travel, one must see something.’
    â€˜Whatever you suggest, cousin, though I should most like to see the Crystal Palace, and St. Paul’s, and the Abbey . . .’
    â€˜Yes, yes, naturally, my dear. I am just thinking what might be for the best today, to begin with. Perhaps, first, I should introduce you to Lucinda – I had thought we might take her on a little outing.’
    â€˜Yes, I have been looking forward to meeting her,’ says Annabel, brightly. ‘Your letters have painted such a lovely picture. And that photograph you sent Momma and Poppa was so pretty.’
    Melissa Woodrow smiles, a glow of maternal pride suffusing her cheeks.

    The Woodrows’ nursery is located on the third floor of the house, above Annabel’s room, overlooking the street. The room itself is a light and airy space, which commands a good view of the terrace’s rooftops, and the canal opposite. The walls are plain and whitewashed, the floor carpeted with a mat of dark felt. The only substantial items of furniture are a bed, a small table and chairs, a dresser and a wicker toy-hamper, the lid of which is rather poorly secured, so that the bow of a brightly painted wooden ark projects from the top.
    The room’s solitary inhabitant is a little girl, about six years old. She sits on a small stool in the corner, infront of a miniature wooden desk, engaged in the contemplation of a book. Dark-haired, like her parents, she bears a rather earnest expression. As Mrs. Woodrow and her cousin enter, she looks up at the two adults expectantly. Mrs. Woodrow meets her daughter’s gaze with a smile, but bustles over to the hamper, straightening the toys.
    â€˜I do wish, Lucinda, you might keep things in better order,’ she says, fastening it shut.
    â€˜Sorry, Mama,’ says the little girl. She puts the book to one side, a railway alphabet, open at ‘T is for Tunnel’. Her mother bends down and strokes her face.
    â€˜This, Lucy, is your cousin Annabel, from America. Do you remember I said that she was coming to visit us?’
    Lucy nods.
    â€˜What do you say to Annabel?’
    â€˜Pleased to meet you,’ says the little girl, after a pause for thought.
    Annabel Krout smiles. ‘Likewise,’ she replies, crouching down to Lucy’s level. ‘You are every bit as pretty as your picture. I hope you and I will become the best of friends.’
    Before the girl can reply, however, a voice interrupts from the landing, behind the two visitors.
    â€˜Good morning, Lucinda.’
    It is the voice of Mr. Woodrow, dressed for the outdoors, in his large black great-coat, holding a walking stick and hat.
    â€˜Good morning, Papa,’ replies Lucy, sitting up straight.
    â€˜I see you have met my daughter, Miss Krout,’ says Woodrow. ‘What do you make of her? I am inclined to think that she needs bringing out of herself. My wife is against the idea of a governess, although I do not see why.’
    â€˜I find her charming, sir,’ replies Annabel.
    â€˜Yes, well. It is hard to judge on first meeting, I suppose.’ He seems to pause for a moment, as if on the verge of saying something more about her. Instead, however, he merely continues with, ‘Have you made