In the Still of the Night

singing. He thought it might have been you.”
    Phoebe laughed. “I was practicing a song for The Fate.“
    “And he overheard something about an appendix.“
    “What kind of appendix?“ Phoebe asked, shifting a couple parcels she was carrying.
    “The kind in the back of a book. Professor Hoornart’s book.“
    “Thanks for filling me in,“ Phoebe said. “Henry seems so defenseless. I fret about him a bit. And now I have two dresses to hem for ladies in town and they’re picking them up first thing tomorrow. I have to get them done before dinner. I’ll be too tired to do a good job later in the evening. Thanks for offering to find Professor Hoornart for me.”
    Phoebe handed Lily the pad she’d been writing on and hurried up the steps with her two paper-wrapped parcels.
    Lily had no idea where Cecil Hoornart had gotten himself to, but she had to get to a sink before she could initiate a long hunt. She’d nibbled on a few things in the kitchen and had sticky hands. She held the pad of paper gingerly, so it wouldn’t get sticky as well, and went to her room. She deposited it on her bed and when she came back out of her tiny bathroom, picked it back up to glance at.
    Phoebe’s handwriting was tiny and neat considering how fast she’d been writing. It was the text of a letter of someone from the town where Julian West had grown up. It started:
    “Dear Professor Hoornart, what a lovely letter from you. I’m sorry I couldn’t respond as quickly as you might have wished, but I’m having a bit of trouble with my shingles again these days. Anyway, I do remember young Mr. Julian fondly and it has been interesting to cast my mind back and pull my memories forward.
    “I was in my twenties when Mr. Julian and Mr. John were children. Mr. John didn’t live there then, of course, but visited often. I was engaged for the job of being young Mr. Julian’s nurse and governess. What a nice child he was. Very bright. He must have been about four years old, as I recall, and already knew his letters and numbers.
    “His father, as you probably know, was the Reverend Ambrose West, a very learned religious scholar, and I shouldn’t have been surprised that he wished his only son to be taught so young. Reverend West, however, was quite an old man, with a much younger—and may I be so bold as to say—rather flighty wife. He also had a growing congregation, and since I was quite well educated, for a girl, he engaged me to take over young Mr. Julian’s basic education under his direction.”
    Lily started skimming. It was quite a long note and Phoebe must have been stuck on the phone for a considerable time.
    The correspondent went on at length about Mr. Julian’s childhood experiences, his hobbies, his several bouts of ill health (“chicken pox with many spots and later an emergency operation that left him quite weak for a full month“) and her eventual dismissal (“with a very fine bonus and recommendation letter“) when young Mr. Julian was judged fit and ready to go to a real school five years later. She then got a job in New Hampshire and rather lost track of the West family, but heard that the Good Reverend had died in his bed some five years after she left the household, and always wondered if the young wife had remarried.
    She closed with effusive thanks for Professor Hoornart leading her down memory lane this way. Ever so pleasant those years had been. Her dear nephew had recently been so kind as to have a telephone installed for her and if Professor Hoornart wished to ask her anything else, he was welcome to call her.
    Lily wondered if Cecil would be pleased or disappointed with the letter, and went to look for him.
    She ran him to earth in the yellow parlor where he was alone and broodingly nursing a glass of brandy.
    “I hope you don’t mind that I helped myself,“ he said listlessly.
    “Not a bit,“ Lily lied. “Your secretary called and Miss Twinkle took a long message for you. Here it is.”
    With that, he perked up, set down his drink and practically snatched the notes from Lily. “It must have been while I was looking around outside. Thank you so much.“ He flung himself back on the sofa before the fireplace and started reading, oblivious to Lily’s presence.
    Lily sighed and went back to her room. Everything was as good as it could be, as far as she could tell. Dinner was well on its way, the guests were accounted for, and she had almost a full hour and a half to herself. Her dog Agatha