Free The Four Graces by D. E. Stevenson Page A

water, sunshine, even rain—she loved everything. She was like a goddess, a Brunhilde, muscular, vital, energizing. Her hair glittered like spun gold under the harsh light that hung, unshaded, over the scullery sink…but the clean dishes had begun to pile up on the draining board, and Tilly was obliged to take her eyes off Brunhilde and get on with her job.

Chapter Nine
    Addie was not a good correspondent. She wrote only when she wished to inform her family of an important fact, or to warn them that she was coming on leave and must be met at the station, so it was with some surprise that Tilly received Addie’s letter from the postman and took it into the kitchen where she was peeling potatoes. It can’t be leave again, thought Tilly as she slit the letter open with the potato peeler and ran her eyes hastily down the closely written page. The letter didn’t seem to be very interesting and, as usual, was liberally scattered with the pronoun “I.” Sal had once remarked that it was a pity Addie used such a very ornate letter to denote herself. The ornate letter drew one’s attention to the extraordinary number of times it appeared in her correspondence…and yet, how could she help it? wondered Tilly. How can you help using “I” when you’re writing about yourself?
    â€œLetters?” asked Sal, coming into the kitchen.
    â€œOne from Addie,” replied Tilly. “‘I’s’ all over the place as usual.”
    â€œEyes all over the places?” inquired Sal, with mild surprise.
    â€œHere, take it,” said Tilly. “My hands are all wet.”
    Sal took it. “Oh, I see what you mean!” she said.
    â€œTell me what she wants.”
    â€œI can tell you that before I read it. She wants clothes coupons, of course. She screwed some out of Liz when she was here, and she’s got most of Father’s already. I had to use some of mine to buy him a new shirt.”
    â€œI might let her have four,” said Tilly thoughtfully, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand, which was the only dry part of it.
    Sal was reading the letter and now she began to expound its contents. “Addie is busy,” announced Sal. “Addie was kept late at the office making out returns. There’s a new girl in the office and Addie doesn’t like her. Addie met Aunt Rona in Debenham’s buying a smart hat—”
    â€œWho is Aunt Rona?” asked Tilly.
    â€œAunt Rona…” said Sal thoughtfully. “Yes, the name seems to ring a bell. Aunt Rona…Let me see. A woman with dark hair and a big nose. Why do I think of her like that?”
    â€œBecause that’s what she’s like, I suppose,” suggested Tilly sensibly.
    â€œAnd a loud voice,” continued Sal. “Ugly but smart.”
    â€œWhere did you see her, Sal?”
    â€œWhere could I have seen her?”
    â€œD’you know who she is?” asked Tilly, dropping the potatoes into the pan.
    â€œI believe I do,” said Sal, delving into her memory. “I have a feeling she’s mother’s brother’s widow, and after Uncle Jack died she married someone else. It’s ages ago, of course. You would be too young to remember…Yes, I’m almost sure that’s who she is. Don’t ask me how Addie managed to get to know her,” added Sal, and she seized the two pails of hen food and was gone.
    Mr. Grace, when tackled upon the subject, could do little but corroborate the facts already known. “Very dressy,” he said. “Rona spent a great deal of money on her clothes, but I must admit they became her. I haven’t seen poor Rona for at least twelve years.”
    â€œPoor Rona?” asked Tilly.
    â€œYour Uncle Jack died,” explained Mr. Grace.
    â€œBut she married someone else. Who did she marry, Father?”
    â€œMapleton was his name. He died, too, some time ago. I remember seeing his death in The