Free Sister of the Housemaster by Eleanor Farnes Page A

breakfast. She had not heard him come in, but the fact that he had had time for some sleep suggested that he had not been as late as she had thought possible. She dressed hurriedly, and slipped out into the kitchen.
    A little later, the door opened, and Patrick stood
    “ I thought ,” he said, “ I smelt the beautiful smell of frying bacon, but decided my hunger and imagination were responsible. You shouldn ’ t have done this, you know .”
    “ I must show that I have some uses, ” she said, and was instantly sorry to have dragged up that subject. I can ’ t help it, she thought, he just has that effect on me.
    “ Oh come, ” he said, “ bury the hatchet. ”
    He came across to her, smiling. Reluctantly, she smiled back.
    “ That ’ s better, ” he said. “ Buried? ”
    “ Buried. Have some coffee. ”
    “ Yen, if you will with me. Aren ’ t you tired this morning? ”
    “ No. ”
    “ Ah, the resilience of youth. Well, I ’ m tired, I admit it. ”
    “ You were probably much later than I, getting to bed. ”
    “ No. I didn ’ t stay long. ”
    “ I imagined you having bacon and eggs at about five in the morning. ”
    “ No. I have my bacon and eggs, like a respects able citizen, after my sleep, at — let me see — seven in the morning. I must hurry. I have a long drive, a report to pick up and study, and a committee to face at eleven o ’ clock. If you were more kindly disposed to me, I would ask you to keep your fingers crossed for me at eleven. I ’ m trying to put over a design that nobody likes but myself. Too revolutionary. They ’ ll turn it down again today, I ’ m afraid. ”
    “ I will keep my fingers crossed for you, ” said Ingrid.
    “ Fine. Just one more cup of coffee, and I must be off. ”
    Very soon he had gone, and Ingrid sat at the kitchen table sipping hot coffee and going over, in her mind, the events of the previous evening. Arnold came in later, drank some coffee while he chatted to her, and went about his day ’ s duties, Ingrid washed up, tidied her kitchen, and went to peep at Sylvia. Sylvia was wide awake.
    “ Good morning, ” said Ingrid. “ Too early for your breakfast? ”
    “ No. I ’ ll have it now. What a lovely morning. ”
    “ Yes, the sun is out early. How do you feel? Very tired? ”
    “ No, I feel fine. I don ’ t think I shall stay in bed after all. I’ll get up after breakfast.”
    “Do you think you should? Well, have breakfast first, and se e how you feel. ”
    “ Patrick gone? ”
    “ Yes, long ago. I cooked him some breakfast. ”
    “ Everybody loved him at the party. He was a great success ...”
    She would have gone on talking about Patrick, but Ingrid had slipped away to get her breakfast. When she returned with the tray, however, Sylvia would not allow her to escape so easily,
    “ Sit down and talk to me, ” she said, but what she meant was, to do the talking herself. She enjoyed the evening all over again in retrospect, but at last Ingrid excused herself.
    “ If you want to get up, ” she said, “ ring your little bell and I wall come and help you. ”
    The normal duties of the day took her attention. Miss Everton came in for a few minutes, to hear about the dance and all its glories, but did not stay long. The Dean ’ s wife came to take morning coffee with Sylvia, and to get a lengthier report. The doctor popped in to see if Sylvia had suffered any ill effects, a nd was pleased with her. Young R adwell, one of the House Monitors, called i n with some flowers his mother had sent for Sylvia; masses of beautiful early spring flowers grown at the Radwells ’ country house. This pleased Sylvia enormously, and she had Ingrid collecting vases from all over the House for her. In these everyday happenings, occupying herself with preparations for lunch, Ingrid tried to forget her altercation with Patrick, and to remember only to keep her fingers crossed for him. If, she thought, his charm worked on men as well as women, he should not