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off the chill. It looked like he'd have to
buy a meal from one of the saloons downtown. While he was at it,
he'd get a stiff drink, too. He'd need it to stay warm in this
cupboard.
    His mind made up, he stood without thinking
and banged his head on the low ceiling over him. "Son of a bitch!"
he swore loudly, stooping and rubbing his scalp. Lighting another
match, he held it cupped in his hand and went to the door. He
yanked it open, nearly pulling off the knob. As he walked through
the black passageway to the stairs, he resolved to get several stiff drinks.
    But before he did anything else, before
another minute passed, he was going to find Miss China Sullivan and
demand a room on the second floor.
    *~*~*
    "Don't worry about the dishes, Aunt Gert,"
China called from the kitchen. "I'll wash them. You go on to St.
Mary's." She ran hot water in the sink, clanking the cooking spoons
and silver noisily. Then she found a tray in the butler's pantry in
the hall and brought it to the table to put a napkin on it. From a
pot on the stove she ladled leftover chowder into a bowl. All the
while she listened tensely to hear the front door close.
    Aunt Gert was due at St. Mary's Church on the
next block to play piano for the benefit musicale rehearsal. She'd
been pressed into service by Sister Theresa after the nun had
broken her finger playing baseball with her geography students on a
rare sunny day. Gert would be busy all week with the practice, and
the timing couldn't be better.
    "I should be back by about nine, dear," Gert
replied, coming to the doorway while she buttoned her cloak. "That
is, if there are no more arguments about the program. Last night
Mrs. Rand got into a huff about having to perform first. I'm taking
Susan with me. It will do her good to get out among people."
    China glanced at the tray, then walked toward
Gert, barely resisting the urge to take her aunt's arm and escort
her to the foyer. "Have a good time."
    Gert sniffed. "I don't know about that. If
the church didn't need a new roof, I'm not sure I would be so eager
to do this. I'd rather stay here and work on my cards." Gert's
collection of calling cards had grown to imposing proportions, and
she endlessly sorted and arranged and rearranged them. "Oh, that's
good, China," she said, nodding at the chowder, "I'm glad to see
you're fixing something for Jake. I wish he could have come to
dinner, but I put some roast chicken and dressing on a plate for
him. It's in the oven."
    "Um, well, I suppose you don't want to keep
Sister Theresa waiting," China prompted again, growing nervous.
    Aunt Gert turned toward the front door. "No,
no. Patience is certainly not one of her virtues. By the way, did
you give Jake your father's old room? He'd probably be comfortable
there."
    " I would not be comfortable with him
there!" China exclaimed, stiffening her back slightly. Indeed, she
thought it was a perfectly dreadful idea. That room was directly
across the hall from her own and much too close. With his
reputation, she wanted Jake as far away from her as possible. "I
put him upstairs."
    “Yes, dear," Gert went on, "but in which
room?"
    "He chose the one with the window," China
declared, her tone defiant.
    You mean in the servants' quarters?" Gert's
voice dropped as though she spoke of the anteroom to hell. "But
China, it's so plain and bare up there. And there's no heat on the
third floor—you wouldn't even let Casey sleep in those rooms."
Casey had been their elderly dog. They'd buried him next to the
gazebo a year ago.
    "Casey was old and sick," China said. "Jake
is anything but. He'll manage. Don't worry about it, Aunt Gert."
She stressed the last sentence, meaning to convey that the subject
was closed.
    "Well, dear, it doesn't seem
right . . . "
    China listened to Gert's voice and footsteps
trail off and held her breath until she heard the front door open
and close again. Letting out a sigh, she went back to her task.
    She looked at the chowder in its plain white
bowl. Soup