“I don’t even know what toast is,” said Joyce, who always won.
Mrs. Vista said that even in her country home in Sussex where life was at its most rigorous, she had never made toast. The scullery maid made it, passed it to the cook for approval or veto, then gave it to the second footman to convey to the table.
“The fire’s going,” Herbert announced at last. He was so pleased with himself he gave Maudie an amiable whack on the rear. “Come on, old girl. Get going and cut some bread.”
Maudie put her hand to her forehead and began to sway gently. Crawford pulled out a chair and pushed her into it.
“You faint just once more,” he said callously, “and nobody will take the trouble to pick you up.”
“Oh, you brute!” Maudie said.
“Faugh,” said Crawford. “If one of you female cripples will hand me a knife, I’ll cut the bread. And I’ll make the toast, too.”
“My hero,” Isobel breathed. She placed a jar of marmalade gently in his hands. “You can shoot the top off this. Won’t that be fun?”
“Gee, yes,” Crawford said.
Meanwhile Mrs. Vista had discovered that the next room was a dining room. She sat herself down at the head of the table and instructed Isobel, Joyce and Paula in the fine art of setting a table. From the kitchen came the odor of charred bread and the sound of Crawford’s soft but expert cursing.
Eventually Mr. Hunter appeared in the doorway with a plateful of buttered toast and behind him came Herbert bearing an enormous soup tureen full of canned macaroni and cheese.
Chad was sent upstairs to get Gracie. Gracie refused to come down without Miss Rudd because Miss Rudd was hungry again. They came into the dining room arm in arm. Miss Rudd seated herself with dignity beside Mrs. Vista, Gracie sat beside her, Chad slunk into the chair next to Paula, and breakfast began.
Almost immediately Miss Rudd started to enliven what wouldn’t have been a dull meal anyway. She accomplished this by the simple but effective method of counting the pieces of toast each one ate. Her eyes followed the plate avidly around the table.
“Four. Two. Two. Five! Goodness, that thin one has had five.”
Maudie swallowed and protested almost simultaneously. “I have not! I’ve had four. I have to eat something, don’t I?”
“Pay no attention, Maudie angel,” Herbert said.
“Five,” said Miss Rudd. “What a glutton!”
Whenever the plate was passed to her she took a piece, smelled it, and tucked it carefully inside her shawl.
Isobel made several attempts to start polite conversation, but Miss Rudd’s personality dominated the room. Hearing Mr. Hunter tell Isobel that Joyce was nineteen, Miss Rudd chuckled gleefully.
“Nineteen,” she said. “That thin one’s had nineteen. Oh, the glutton!”
“Does she have to sit at the table with us?” Maudie asked desperately.
“Well, it’s her table,” Gracie said. “It’s also her food.”
“It’s also her food,” said Miss Rudd.
She was getting bored, however, and soon she darted to the door, clutching the toast underneath her shawl, and disappeared down the hall.
“She’s just gone to hide it,” Gracie said easily. “I never saw anybody like it for hiding things.”
A meager light began to seep through the high narrow windows. The snow had stopped and the wind had died down again and Crawford prophesied a bright cold day ahead.
Herbert, who had been a boy scout in his youth, suggested building a signal fire in the snow. Crawford said it was impossible. Chad said that on the contrary, it was not impossible, it was possible. The conversation was about to get around to clipping again when a shrill laugh floated into the room.
Miss Rudd was evidently very amused, for the laughter kept on and on until even Gracie began to get uneasy.
“I’d better go and see what she’s doing,” Gracie said, and left the table.
She found Miss Rudd in the library. She was standing on a chair beside the window and looking out into the snow. Her whole body was shaking with mirth and pieces of toast fell out and scattered on the floor.
“Now, Frances,” Gracie said. “Come off that chair and behave yourself. You’re making too much noise.”
Miss Rudd pointed out the window and laughed again.
“Get down then, and let me look,” Gracie said.
Miss Rudd obligingly gave up the chair. Gracie climbed up and looked out the window. At first she could see nothing but vast drifts of snow and several bleak trees. She looked around again and then she saw something sticking out of the snow close beside the house. It was a foot.
9
It was a foot sticking rigidly out of the snow as if it had been flung there during the night and landed with the sole of the shoe uppermost. There was a layer of snow on the sole. Around the foot the snow was depressed but smooth.
Gracie hung onto the window to steady herself. Miss Rudd had stopped laughing and was regarding her with solicitude.
“What’s the matter?” Miss Rudd said.
Gracie clung to the window and whispered, “I don’t feel so well. There’s a — a foot — out there.”
“Well, my goodness,” said Miss Rudd cheerfully, “it’s only Floraine.”
“I want to get down from here. Move away.” She climbed down from the chair very slowly, with Miss Rudd giving a helping hand.
“What a funny color you are,” Miss Rudd said.
Gracie said nothing, but walked as fast as she could to the door. Miss Rudd skimmed along behind her.
When they reached the dining room, Gracie paused in the doorway but Miss Rudd gave her a smart push in the small of the back. Gracie let out a scream and stumbled towards the table. An expectant hush fell over the room.
“What’s happened?” Isobel said at last, in a cracked voice.
Gracie sank into a chair. In the dim light her face looked pale and shiny.
“I found — she found — a foot.”
“A foot? You don’t mean a foot?”
Miss Rudd hung her head modestly and said, “I found it.”
Mrs. Vista half-rose from her chair and sank back again with a vast sigh. “Oh, please! Let’s have no more of these jokes. Very bad for the nerves. Imagine anyone finding a foot. You mean you found a shoe, don’t you, my dear?”
“A shoe with a foot in it,” Gracie said shrilly. “It’s out in the snow by the window.”
“It’s Floraine,” Miss Rudd said pleasantly. “What’s left of her.”
Crawford flung back his chair and grabbed her by the shoulder. “Where is she? Come and show me.”
Miss Rudd looked up at him. Her eyes were narrow and bright and her breath hissed in and out through her teeth. “Leave me alone, Harry, or I’ll slit you. I’ll slit you, Harry. I’ll slit you...”
Crawford was white around the mouth. His hand dropped to his side and he stepped back. Miss Rudd stared at him unblinkingly for a moment, then gathering her shawl tightly around her shoulders she shambled off out of the door. In the silence that followed they could still hear the hiss of her breath until a door closed somewhere along the hall.
Crawford brushed his hand across his forehead. His mouth moved but he couldn’t say anything.
“The library,” Gracie croaked. “You can see it from the library window.”
“It’s... her foot?” Isobel said.
“Yes.”
Crawford turned and went out. Isobel saw that he was shaking all over. She moved her legs to test them but they seemed very weak suddenly, and too feeble to carry her.
Mrs. Vista had been working up a theory to comfort herself. She said firmly, “I’m sure it’s all a mistake. You’re probably snow-crazy. I think there’s such a thing as snow-crazy, and you see mirages, don’t you, Anthony? Or am I thinking of the desert?”