Free Mistress of the House by Eleanor Farnes

the quiet. Primroses were blooming freely now, and windflowers lifted their white and amethyst heads from the fragile loveliness of their leaves.
    They came to a fallen tree, and by mutual consent stopped and sat on it Two rabbits ran away from them, their white scuts bounding over the brambles. Laurie laughed at them.
    “It’s lovely here,” she said.
    “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
    “It’s more like a perpetual holiday than work.”
    “Mr. Humphries isn’t too exacting a boss?”
    “I should think not I’ve worked for some awful people. Of course the whole tempo of the work is much slower, and he’s a great stickler for getting everything exactly right And he’s so wrapped up in it that he’s making me absorbed in it, too.”
    “How long do you think the job will last?”
    “Mr. Humphries hopes to get it finished in six months, but Mrs. Humphries was saying that it may be a good deal longer, as he’s quite likely to go over the whole thing, altering and cutting out and improving. But I’m reckoning on six months here, at least.”
    “And you’ve been here one, already.”
    “Yes, it’s flown past.”
    “How would you like to live in a place like this, Laurie?”
    “Well ... I don’t know. It’s completely different from my ordinary life. It’s lovely now, because this is spring and the air is fresh and the flowers growing everywhere. And of course, I’m lucky in living in your house. There’s always something happening and something going on. But what it would be like to be on my own all day in some little house in the wilds—well, I don’t know about that I think I should feel that life was going on without me, and that I was missing all the things I like so much.”
    “Such as?”
    “Dancing, dining out, going to theatres.”
    “Dancing you can get here. Not always village dances, like the one we went to. Dining out, well no. Only by taking the car somewhere, and risking the food and the place. And theatres of course would be out. But how often do you go to a theatre?”
    “Once a month, perhaps. Sometimes two or three times a month. Depending on the admirers, to a certain extent.”
    He was silent. After a minute or two, Laurie turned to look at him.
    “I suppose,” she said, “that it would depend on why I came to live in the country. If, for instance, it was because I married a countryman, and I adored that man, then I don’t suppose I should mind where I was.”
    Max glanced at his watch.
    “Good heavens,” he said. “It’s supper time. We shall have to be getting back.”
    “Oh dear,” said Laurie, “I’ve kept you out too long. That means that Jessica is going to be cross and sulky again.”
    “Jessica doesn’t upset you, does she?”
    “Yes, she does. I honestly think, Max, that she is trying to drive me away. She’s always angry with me. She looks into the kitchen window, and if she sees me there alone, she goes away again until somebody else comes along. If I’m sitting in the fireside circle, she gets up and leaves it Whenever I’m typing for you in the office, she comes in on some pretext or other; and she seems to follow me round the farm with the express idea of being unpleasant. I try to ignore it, of course; but I find that, all the time, I’ve got her at the back of my mind, wondering what she will think or say about everything I do. Like being late for supper now.”
    “Then you aren’t enjoying your stay here?”
    “Yes. Very much when I’m away from Jessica. I’m sorry to say so much about your sister, but she does hate my being here.”
    “We must do something about this.”
    “No. You can’t do anything. You can’t make people like other people; and to comment on it makes it worse. I keep hoping she will get used to me, but she doesn’t.”
    They began to walk back, Laurie hurrying in spite of herself. Max protested. He tried to make a joke of it, saying that she must leave him behind if she wanted to fly. Instantly, she slowed