The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

and Fredericka sighed as she returned to her desk. She had wanted Philippine’s friendship and, if one could make the effort, there must be something worth finding out about Roger Sutton—couldn’t he be helped? She reached for the pile of publisher’s catalogues and tried to forget her visitors. She could hope for a quiet morning in the shop since everyone would be busy getting ready for the bazaar. But she had no sooner managed to concentrate on her morning’s work than Margie Hartwell came walking in the back door.
    During the week Margie had given up even the formality of knocking, and Fredericka had given up trying to make her change her ways. This morning the girl was excited and looked better than Fredericka had imagined to be possible. Even the bad complexion had been skilfully hidden under a mask of face cream and powder and for once her dress was clean and neat.
    “I’m not working today,” she announced at once, “except, of course, at the fete. But that’s more fun than washing bottles and test tubes which is about all I ever do in the lab lately. I guess they’ll shut up shop for the day at the Farm. Mrs. Sutton’s coming, of course. She always does, but Roger won’t—he hates crowds, and I don’t know about Philippine. They say they are going off to hunt wild herbs and heaven alone knows when they’ll be back.”
    Fredericka, for some reason, did not feel it necessary to mention her early callers. “Is Mrs. Clay coming?”
    “Oh, her! I wouldn’t know. I expect she will if dear James gets back in time.”
    “Are they engaged?” Fredericka couldn’t resist asking, and then regretted her question when she saw Margie’s look of Pleased Informer that she had often had occasion to observe before.
    “Engaged? Everything but, I should think. What he sees in her I can’t think but, of course, he’s no ball of fire. Lately, though, he’s been hanging around the lab a lot. I think, myself, he’s sweet on Philippine—and that makes more sense…”
    Margie was prepared to go on about this pleasant subject indefinitely but Fredericka felt it would be wise to call a halt. “Well, you needn’t help here, either. Why don’t you run along and join in the preparations.”
    But Margie, contrary as always, pouted and said slowly, “I’d just as soon help. Mom said I could so long as it wasn’t dirty work.”
    “I really haven’t anything for you to do.” Fredericka felt suddenly tired. “Unless you’d like to sit down with a book and wait on any customers.”
    “Oh, there won’t be any customers this morning—and I don’t like reading much, so I guess I will go along then.”
    And before Fredericka could attempt a reply, Margie had flounced out the front door and disappeared down the path. Once more Fredericka returned to her desk and this time she was not disturbed. Margie’s prediction proved accurate and there were no customers at all. For once, Fredericka was glad of this as she planned to shut up shop early and spend the afternoon as well as the evening at the bazaar.
    When Peter Mohun called for her at half past two she was quite ready and waiting outside in her best pink linen and large straw hat.
    “You don’t half look a picture, you don’t,” he greeted her. “And if that’s too negative for you I’d say, ‘ascribed to Gainsborough’; will that do?”
    Fredericka laughed and a feeling of holiday took possession of her. “Did he ever paint the oppressed working classes? I feel like Maid’s Day Out and more than ready for it,” she answered. “Not in the least like gentry keeping their gloves clean.”
    “Good. So do I, or rather, so don’t I. These things must always be approached with the whole heart committed. Otherwise—hello! There’s friend Carey—Thane Carey and his wife, Connie. I’d like you to meet them. Shall we ask them to sit with us at dinner?”
    “Yes, of course. But who is he?”
    “Oh, he’s our chief of police—swell guy—and shares our passion for murder. And luckily Connie’s a fine listener.”
    “Enter the cop,” Fredericka muttered.
    “No need to be snooty,” Peter said stiffly. “He happens to be my good friend.”
    Fredericka blushed and then stumbled over her words. “Oh, I didn’t mean that. I was only thinking of that murder mystery you and I were talking about last night.”
    “Did I hear the words ‘murder’ and ‘mystery’?” Thane Carey greeted them. “My bloodhound’s ears prick eager