The child approached but, I noticed, clinging very tightly to Mrs. Gittings' hand.
"My little one, come and say how do you do to Miss Grant."
"Hello Miranda," I said.
The dark eyes were turned to me. She said: "I've got a corn dolly."
"A what, darling?"
Mrs. Gittings said: "It's hanging on the wall in my sister's cottage. Miranda always says it is hers." "How old is she?" I asked.
"Nearly two," said Mrs. Gittings. "Quite a big girl, aren't you, pet?"
Miranda laughed and snuggled up to Mrs. Gittings' skirts.
It was quite clear who had Miranda's affection in that house.
I felt a great desire to get away. I was tired of hearing of Jason Verringer and his affairs. It was all rather distasteful and there was an air of such unreality in that house that I never wanted to see any of them again-except perhaps Mrs. Gittings and the child.
After a while Miranda was taken away and I left. I had the excuse that I must get back to the school. As I rode home I thought what a pity it was that the school was so close to the Hall and a part of it really. It made escape difficult. But I certainly would not again visit Rooks' Rest in a hurry.
It must have been only two weeks later when I ran into Mrs. Gittings with Miranda in the town. Her rosy face lit up with pleasure when she saw me.
"Why, it's Miss Grant," she said. "Lovely day, isn't it? Spring's on the way. I came in with Miranda in the dog cart. She loves that, don't you, Miranda? We've got one or two bits of shopping to do before we go away.
"Oh, are you going away?"
"I'm taking Miranda with me down to my sister."
"You'll love that. Miranda too."
"Yes. She'll see her corn dolly, won't you, pet? And Aunt Grace, that's my sister. Very fond of Miranda, she is, and Miranda's fond of her. It'll be lovely on the moors. I was brought up there. They say you always want to go back to your native spot."
"How will they get on without you at Rooks' Rest?"
"They won't be there. The house is to be shut up tin I'm told when to go back."
"So Mrs. Martindale is going to London, is she?" "Farther than that, she says. She keeps rather quiet about it, but sometimes it comes out. She is going to him."
"To him?"
"To Sir Jason. Somewhere on the Continent. Maisie will go with her."
"Do you think they will get married out there .. . wherever it is?"
"Well, that's what she seems to have in mind."
"I see."
"I can't wait to get to the moors. It was nice seeing you, Miss Grant. I think Miranda quite took to you."
I said goodbye and felt faintly depressed.
What a sordid affair, I thought, as I rode back to the Abbey.
Teresa came to me in a state of great distress.
"It's the cousins," she said. "They want me to go to them for Easter. Miss Hetherington sent for me in her study. She said she's just heard. I said I don't want to go but Miss Hetherington says I'll have to."
"Oh Teresa," I said. "Aunt Patty and Violet will be so disappointed."
"I know." There were tears in her eyes. "Violet was going to show me how to make hot cross buns."
I said: "Perhaps we can arrange something. I'll go and see Miss Hetherington."
Daisy shook her head grimly.
"I have often wondered about the wisdom of your taking Teresa home with you. I know Patience and Violet and the effect they'd have on a girl like Teresa. Poor child, she was almost demented when I told her."
I said: "Surely it can be explained to them."
"I don't think they'll change their minds. It's not that they want her. I can read between the lines. They feel they look remiss in the eyes of the parents as they are supposed to be looking after her, and two vacations away from them is a bit too much. She'll have to go for Easter and then perhaps it can be arranged that you take her in the summer holidays which are the longer ones."
"We shall be so sad. You see, she quickly became part of the household."
"That's the trouble. One has to be careful with girls like Teresa. They become so intense. She became too involved too quickly."
"It was just holidays she had with us in an ordinary little home."
"My dear Cordelia, no house is ordinary with Patience in it."
"I know. She is quite the most wonderful person.
I was so happy for Teresa to have a share in all that." "You're too sentimental. Let Teresa go for Easter and I am sure it will be all right for the summer." "Couldn't we explain it to them?"
"Explanations would make it worse. They'd feel more guilty. They are just making this gesture to preserve their kindly image with the parents. We'll have to let them this time. And perhaps Teresa will make it so that they don't want her again for a very long time." Daisy smiled grimly. "Oh come, Cordelia, it's not so tragic as all that. Just this once. Teresa has to learn that life is not a bed of roses. It'll be good for her and make her all the more appreciative of Moldenbury next time."
"She's appreciative enough already."
Daisy shrugged her shoulders. "She'll have to go," she said firmly.
Poor Teresa was heart-broken and her grief cast an air of tragedy over the rest of term.
When I waved her off with the rest of the girls the day before my departure we were both of us on the verge of tears.
It was a sad household at Moldenbury. Teresa would have been very gratified to see how we missed her.
Aunt Patty said: "Never mind. She'll be here for summer and those are the long holidays."
"We shan't see her again," said Violet prophetically.
Everyone in the village asked where she was. I had not realized what a part of the household she had become. We decorated the church with daffodils and I was regretful thinking of how she would have enjoyed that. The hot cross buns did not seem nearly such a treat as they would have done had she been there.
"She loved it so much here," I said, "and she made us all realize how fortunate we are to have each other."
"I always knew that, dear," said Aunt Patty, solemn for once.
I went for long walks and thought about Marcia Martindale on the Continent with Jason Verringer. I imagined them on the canals of Venice, strolling beside the Arno in Florence, riding down the Champs Elysées, visiting the Colosseum in Rome ... all places I longed to visit.
I thought rather maliciously: They are worthy of each other, and I am sure they will get all the happiness they deserve.
It was the day after Easter Monday, in the mid afternoon, and I was in the sitting room reading when I heard the gate click. I got up and looked out of the window. Teresa was coming up the drive carrying a suitcase.
I dashed out. "Teresa!" I cried.
She flew at me and we hugged each other. "Whatever are you doing here?" I asked.
"I just came," she replied. "I got on a train and came. I couldn't stand it any longer."
"But what of the cousins?"
"I left a note for them. They'll be glad. I was such a nuisance to them."
"Oh Teresa," I cried, trying to sound stern but only conveying my pleasure.
I called up the stairs. "Aunt Patty. Violet. Come down at once."
They came running. For a few seconds they stared at Teresa. Then she flung herself at them and the three of them were in a sort of huddle while I stood looking on and laughing.
I said: "It's really rather awful. She's just walked out on the cousins, leaving a note."
Aunt Patty was trying not to laugh and even Violet was smiling.
"Well, I never!" said Aunt Patty.
"She just packed a suitcase and came."
"Ail that way by herself," said Violet looking shocked.
"She's nearly seventeen," I reminded them.
"I knew the way," said Teresa. "I had to go to London first. That was the tricky part. But the guard was helpful. He showed me."