As he turned to go back to his room he was alarmed by the sudden scurry of naked feet. A flash of white disappeared round the corner and a mattress creaked. Glory had been watching.
When his mother bent over him that night he told another lie—he feigned that he slept. As her fluffy hair touched his cheek he longed to drag her down to him and tell her all. She would stretch herself beside him in the darkness, holding him tightly, as she had done so often when he had had something to confess. He denied himself the luxury.—That night as he lay awake and listened, the angel in the cupboard whistled very softly, very distantly, as though she were carrying Kay far away from him.
When he had offered his uncle a change of lodging, his uncle had said, “Depends on the family.” Peter had only one family to suggest; he didn’t at all know whether the family would accept Uncle Waffles. Gentlemen for whom the law is searching are not popular as guests.
During breakfast, despite frowns from Barrington, all Aunt Jehane’s conversation had to do with the shock she had suffered by reason of Grace’s folly. When Barrington banged his cup in his saucer, she lost her temper. “Well, I don’t see why I shouldn’t talk about it. I had to put up with the worry of it.”
“My good Jehane, haven’t you any sense? You can say anything you like, except before the children.”
“Goodness!” Jehane replied pettishly. “The children were here and saw it.”
Peter slipped out. Through the white snow-strewn fields he hurried and through Topbury Park where the snow was trodden black, till he came to a quiet street and a tall house with stone steps leading up to it. Miss Madge, the fat and jolly Miss Jacobite, answered his knock.
“What a long face for a little boy to wear!”
“If you please, I’d like to speak to Miss Florence.” Miss
Florence was the sister who was tall and reserved; she managed everything and everybody.