“Well,” Phyllis sighed and looked at her watch, “I’ve got to go home.”
Phyllis’ departure was the signal for the group to break up. As she walked slowly home to the forlorn house on the top of the hill Phyllis’ mind was busy with thoughts of Gale. She entered the house and started up the stairs to her customary retreat for studying before dinner when her Aunt’s voice halted her.
“Phyllis! Come here!”
Her heart heavy with misgivings Phyllis made her way reluctantly down the stairs again to the kitchen where her Aunt was. The tone of her Aunt’s voice had been angry and Phyllis was afraid there was another tirade against herself in the offing. Perpetually she lived in dread of her Aunt’s scoldings and punishments. She had done nothing wrong that she knew of, but quite often some little inoffensive act was the signal for her Aunt’s anger to flare up.
Now as she approached the kitchen door with slow and uneven steps she was afraid. Phyllis stopped on the threshold to watch her Aunt who was tying a bandage around the hand of Minnie, the woman who came in twice a week to help with the cooking and housework.
“Did you want me, Aunt Melba?”
“Of course I want you or I wouldn’t have called you. Don’t stand there! Minnie has burned her hand and all the preserving to be done! You’ve got to help.”
Phyllis opened her lips to tell her Aunt of the difficult history examination on the morrow, one which would require hours of study, but she swallowed the words and went forward. She would have to study tonight after her Aunt was in bed.
“Come, child! Make yourself useful. Rinse those jars.”
Phyllis moved like an automaton under her Aunt’s disapproving eyes.