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The bed had been dangerously overloaded. The bathroom plumbing, dissected amateurishly
by Charles and Emelius, and wrapped in ironing blankets and dust sheets, took up so much
room to start with. And then, besides the clothes-basket and two suitcases, there were the last-
minute things that Miss Price could not bear to leave behind. The silver cream jug, her extra
hot-water bottle, an egg beater, a cake tin tied with string in which she had put her store of
tea, some biscuits, a packet of Ryvita, and six tins of sardines. There were her apostle spoons
and the best tea cloth, her father's sword, her photographs, a bottle of lavender water. . . .
They had tied and retied it all with the clothesline, but, all the same, it looked terribly perilous
with Miss Price and Emelius perched on top. In spite of everything, Carey pointed out, Miss
Price would wear her best straw hat, which had been "done over" by a woman in the village.
"Better to wear it than pack it," she had insisted, as if there had been no other alternative. She
had cried a little when she said good-by to the children and reminded them that Mrs. Kit-
hatten down the road was coming in to cook their breakfast; and that their tickets were on the
mantelpiece in the dining room; and that Mr. Bisselthwaite would be there by nine-thirty; and
to remind Mrs. Kithatten that the men would be along any time after one to check on the
inventory; and that they were to boil up the rest of the milk in case it turned before morning.
And then Paul had wished, standing there beside the bedstead, and, suddenly, the room was
empty, except for the rustling tissue paper and the curtains falling softly back in place as if
there had been a wind.
They felt terribly alone. They went downstairs, and the emptiness of the house seemed to
follow them. They walked through the kitchen into the scullery. The drainboard was still
damp from the washing up of the supper things, a washing up Miss Price had shared. The
door of the garden stood open, and they wandered out. There, by the garbage can, stood a pile
of Miss Price's old shoes. One pair, very stiff and mud-caked, were the ones she kept for
gardening in wet weather.
The sun was sinking behind the wood, but the hillside was bathed in golden light.
"They'll be there by now," Charles said at last, breaking the dreary silence.
Carey looked across the shadowed wood to the familiar, friendly slope of Tinker's Hill.
"I know what," she exclaimed suddenly. "Let's run up there! We'll be back before dark."
"Well, we wouldn't see them or anything," objected Charles.
"It doesn't matter. Miss Price might sort of know." It was good to run and climb, panting, up
the sandy paths, through the bracken, onto the turf. It was good to reach the wind and feel the
sunshine as, rich and warm, it fell on their shoulders and sent long shadows bobbing on ahead
across the grass.
When they reached the ruined house, Carey climbed alone to the highest spot on the wall. She
sat with her chin in her hands, as if in a trance, while the wind blew the wisps of hair on her
forehead and her motionless shadow stretched out across the blackberry bushes and up the
sun-drenched hill. Charles and Paul just messed about among the stones, uneasily picking an
occasional blackberry and watching Carey.
After a while Carey climbed down. She did not speak. She walked slowly past the boys. There
was a faraway expression on her face, and her eyes were dreamy.
"I can see them," she said in a chanting kind of voice. She stood quite still, among the
brambles of the "apple orchard." "Oh, come on, Carey," said Charles. He knew she was
acting, but all the same he did not like it.
"I can see them quite plainly," went on Carey, as if she had not heard. She stretched out her
hands in a "hushing" gesture and raised her face a little, like a picture they had at home called
"The Prophetess." "They are walking slowly down the path, hand in hand." She paused.
"Now, they have stopped under the apple tree. Miss Price has no hat on. Now they have
turned and are looking back at the house-" "Oh, Carey, come on," said Charles [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]