expression.
'Oh, damn!' said Joan, tugging the fork from the bird. 'You carry on, Ruth, while I see to this.'
'You shouldn't swear,' reproved her son. 'Miss Fogerty made Chris wash his mouth out with soapy water once because he swore.'
'Sorry, sorry!' cried his mother, struggling with her apron strings. 'It slipped out.'
'Oh, damn!' echoed the baby thoughtfully. 'Oh, damn!.'
The two sisters exchanged resigned looks, but had the wisdom not to comment. The bell split the air again, and Joan hurried to the door.
'Oh, do come in, Miss Harmer,' she cried, doing her best to sound welcoming. Who else but Dotty, she wondered, would call at twenty past twelve, and be clad, on a boiling hot day, in a tweed coat with a fur collar, topped by a purple velour hat, thick with dust, and decorated with a fine diamond brooch which, as Joan knew, had been in the family for generations and, amazingly enough, had not yet been lost by its present scatter-brained owner.
'Will you have a glass of sherry?' asked Joan, ushering her guest into the drawing-room.
'No, thank you, dear. I shall have a glass of rhubarb and ginger wine with my lunch. I find I get so sleepy if I mix my drinks midday.'
She looked sharply about the room.
'No cat?' said Dotty.
'No. Just Flo, the old spaniel, you know.'
'Well,' began Dotty, undoing her coat and settling herself. 'I'll tell you why I've come.'
Joan listened patiently to the saga of the kittens, half her mind on the fast-cooling lunch.
'And so it is essential that I wean the kittens, first and foremost,' she heard her visitor saying. 'Mr Fortescue says he can't possibly operate until the mother cat is absolutely dry. ' Dotty embarked on an involved obstetrical account about nursing felines, showing a remarkable grip on the subject for a spinster, thought Joan.
Her attention wandered again, only to be riveted suddenly when she heard Dotty putting a straight question.
'So how many kittens would you like?'
'Heavens!' exclaimed Joan. 'I must think about this! I don't know that Flo would care about a kitten—'
'Be a companion for her,' said Dotty firmly. 'What about Ruth? She'd like one, wouldn't she?'
'I'll ask her,' promised Joan meekly. To her relief, Dotty rose, and began to make her way to the door.
'Well, dear, I hope that's two kittens settled. It's quite a problem. I refuse to allow them to go to any but the nicest homes.'
'Thank you,' said Joan faintly.
'They won't be ready for a month or so,' continued Dotty, now on the doorstep. Joan rallied her failing senses.
'I will ring you before the end of the week,' she promised, 'and let you know if Ruth and I can have one each.'
'And tell your friends,' shouted Dotty from the gate. 'Those that are definite cat-lovers. '
Joan nodded her agreement, and watched her eccentric neighbour trotting briskly homeward to her rhubarb and ginger wine.
'What was all that about?' asked Ruth, when she returned to the kitchen.
'I'll tell you later,' said Joan. 'Little pitchers, you know.'
'Have big ears,' said her son. 'It was Miss Harmer, wasn't it? Did she tell you about her kittens? Chris told me. Isn't it smashing?'
He paused, and his mother watched, with mingled amusement and dismay, the light which suddenly broke out upon his countenance.
'Did she say we can have one, mummy? Did she? Oh, please let's! Oh, mummy, do let's have one! Please, please!'
Albert Piggott, much refreshed, set out from "The Two Pheasants" to his nearby cottage. An aroma of boiling bacon wafted towards him as he approached.
Mellowed already by a pint of bitter, Albert's spirits were cheered still further by the thought of pleasures to come. Maybe Nell wasn't such a bad sort, after all!
At that moment, a clattering van appeared at the top of the steep hill from Lulling, and Albert's heart turned once more to stone.
'Oilmen!' He spat viciously into the hedge.
'Women!' He spat again.
Albert Piggott was back to normal.
5 A Problem for Winnie
A RARE spell of superb harvest
'Oh, damn!' said Joan, tugging the fork from the bird. 'You carry on, Ruth, while I see to this.'
'You shouldn't swear,' reproved her son. 'Miss Fogerty made Chris wash his mouth out with soapy water once because he swore.'
'Sorry, sorry!' cried his mother, struggling with her apron strings. 'It slipped out.'
'Oh, damn!' echoed the baby thoughtfully. 'Oh, damn!.'
The two sisters exchanged resigned looks, but had the wisdom not to comment. The bell split the air again, and Joan hurried to the door.
'Oh, do come in, Miss Harmer,' she cried, doing her best to sound welcoming. Who else but Dotty, she wondered, would call at twenty past twelve, and be clad, on a boiling hot day, in a tweed coat with a fur collar, topped by a purple velour hat, thick with dust, and decorated with a fine diamond brooch which, as Joan knew, had been in the family for generations and, amazingly enough, had not yet been lost by its present scatter-brained owner.
'Will you have a glass of sherry?' asked Joan, ushering her guest into the drawing-room.
'No, thank you, dear. I shall have a glass of rhubarb and ginger wine with my lunch. I find I get so sleepy if I mix my drinks midday.'
She looked sharply about the room.
'No cat?' said Dotty.
'No. Just Flo, the old spaniel, you know.'
'Well,' began Dotty, undoing her coat and settling herself. 'I'll tell you why I've come.'
Joan listened patiently to the saga of the kittens, half her mind on the fast-cooling lunch.
'And so it is essential that I wean the kittens, first and foremost,' she heard her visitor saying. 'Mr Fortescue says he can't possibly operate until the mother cat is absolutely dry. ' Dotty embarked on an involved obstetrical account about nursing felines, showing a remarkable grip on the subject for a spinster, thought Joan.
Her attention wandered again, only to be riveted suddenly when she heard Dotty putting a straight question.
'So how many kittens would you like?'
'Heavens!' exclaimed Joan. 'I must think about this! I don't know that Flo would care about a kitten—'
'Be a companion for her,' said Dotty firmly. 'What about Ruth? She'd like one, wouldn't she?'
'I'll ask her,' promised Joan meekly. To her relief, Dotty rose, and began to make her way to the door.
'Well, dear, I hope that's two kittens settled. It's quite a problem. I refuse to allow them to go to any but the nicest homes.'
'Thank you,' said Joan faintly.
'They won't be ready for a month or so,' continued Dotty, now on the doorstep. Joan rallied her failing senses.
'I will ring you before the end of the week,' she promised, 'and let you know if Ruth and I can have one each.'
'And tell your friends,' shouted Dotty from the gate. 'Those that are definite cat-lovers. '
Joan nodded her agreement, and watched her eccentric neighbour trotting briskly homeward to her rhubarb and ginger wine.
'What was all that about?' asked Ruth, when she returned to the kitchen.
'I'll tell you later,' said Joan. 'Little pitchers, you know.'
'Have big ears,' said her son. 'It was Miss Harmer, wasn't it? Did she tell you about her kittens? Chris told me. Isn't it smashing?'
He paused, and his mother watched, with mingled amusement and dismay, the light which suddenly broke out upon his countenance.
'Did she say we can have one, mummy? Did she? Oh, please let's! Oh, mummy, do let's have one! Please, please!'
Albert Piggott, much refreshed, set out from "The Two Pheasants" to his nearby cottage. An aroma of boiling bacon wafted towards him as he approached.
Mellowed already by a pint of bitter, Albert's spirits were cheered still further by the thought of pleasures to come. Maybe Nell wasn't such a bad sort, after all!
At that moment, a clattering van appeared at the top of the steep hill from Lulling, and Albert's heart turned once more to stone.
'Oilmen!' He spat viciously into the hedge.
'Women!' He spat again.
Albert Piggott was back to normal.
5 A Problem for Winnie
A RARE spell of superb harvest
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