Free The Sundial by Shirley Jackson Page A

Halloran,” and Julia and Arabella glanced up, and down again. Mrs. Halloran took the wheel chair slowly out of the room and across the hall and Aunt Fanny gave one last malevolent glance at Mrs. Willow and followed her.
    â€œ
That
was sweet of you,” Julia said spitefully to her sister, “hanging around and whispering around her, and that big innocent stare.”
    â€œWe’re supposed to get along,” Arabella said, touching her blond curls lazily.
    â€œTrying to cut me out with her the first five minutes we’re here.”
    â€œWe could
see
how she fell in love with
you.
”
    â€œShut up, both of you,” Mrs. Willow said. “You’re not here to squabble, my pretties. Belle, tomorrow I want you to offer to read to her, or hold her knitting, or some such—just stay around her. Admire the gardens, and get her to show them to you, and you can put in some good work
there—you
know, flatter her a little; we all like
that
. Julia, you’ve got more patience—you take up with—what’s the little one’s name?” she asked Essex.
    â€œFancy,” said Essex, enchanted.
    â€œFancy. Julia, you get after the little girl. Play with her. Tell her stories, comb her hair, look at her toys. Romp.”
    â€œIf you please,” Miss Ogilvie said stiffly, “Fancy is my pupil. She will be engaged at her schoolwork for the greater part of the day.”
    â€œShe will?” Mrs. Willow looked at Miss Ogilvie. “No one’s going to cut you out,” she said at last. “There’s plenty for all of us, honey.”
    Miss Ogilvie laughed shortly. “Aunt Fanny’s father might not think so.”
    Mrs. Willow frowned. “What have I got to do with Aunt Fanny’s father?” she asked. “The old boy’s dead fifteen years.”
    Miss Ogilvie laughed again, glanced at Essex, and then leaned forward. “I suppose
I
had better be the one to tell you,” she said.
    _____
    â€œGood
morning
, Aunt Fanny,” Mrs. Willow said; the sun was shining goldenly on the terrace where Aunt Fanny and Maryjane were sitting after breakfast, “good morning to you. And to
you
,” she said, to Maryjane. “Are you the mother of that delightful child? My gels are both in love with her already.”
    â€œYou won’t get any breakfast,” Aunt Fanny said with satisfaction. “The table was cleared an hour ago.”
    â€œI’ll run along down the kitchen in a minute. They will be sure to have something for a starving old woman. How well your brother is looking, Aunt Fanny. I am quite surprised to see how well he looks.”
    â€œHe has had a blow recently, ma’am; he could scarcely look
very
well.”
    â€œA blow indeed,” Maryjane said darkly. “Unmotherly monster.”
    â€œI?”
    â€œA mother,” Maryjane explained, “who pushes her only son down the stairs and leaves his devoted wife a widow.”
    â€œMaryjane,” Aunt Fanny said. “Not before this lady, please.”
    â€œA widow,” Maryjane said. “A fatherless orphan.”
    â€œI’m very sorry to hear it,” Mrs. Willow said inadequately, and then, in a rush to Aunt Fanny, “I think you were away when I visited here long ago; I have always remembered the magnificence of this house, and the kindness of your father.”
    â€œMy father was an upright, courteous man.”
    Mrs. Willow’s voice was saddened. “You will certainly not believe this, but his passing was a deep personal loss to me. I valued him more than I can say; a truly upright man, as you say.”
    â€œYou are right,” Aunt Fanny said. “I certainly do not believe that.”
    â€œAunt Fanny,” said Mrs. Willow, “I do not want to keep on offending you. I have the greatest admiration and fondness for every member of your family, and so do my two daughters.”
    â€œAnd well you