The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

We’re worried sick, and now they’ve taken her off to hospital.”
    “Yes,” Fredericka said, and then added quickly, “but won’t you come in. Sergeant Brown and I were just getting ourselves some supper. We’d be glad to have you join us—both of you.”
    “Sergeant Brown?” James said.
    “Yes. He’s a sort of bodyguard,” Fredericka explained. She was sorry now that she had mentioned his presence. Perhaps they weren’t planning to stay, and she wouldn’t have needed to. It did seem silly.
    Philippine laughed good-naturedly. “Good thing. I should think you’d hate staying here all alone.”
    “I do. But, please won’t you come in?”
    “No,” Philippine went on quickly. “I really just came by to pick up some things of Margie’s. Mrs. Hartwell’s too upset to—poor woman.” James now came forward from behind Philippine.
    “Don’t include me in that refusal, Phil. If there’s some coffee going, I’ll have some while you do your rummaging.”
    Philippine frowned. “You know we promised to get out to the hospital at once,” she said.
    “I know, but you’ve got to collect the junk, haven’t you?” Fredericka said with more enthusiasm than she felt, “I suppose the things you want are in the storeroom, Philippine. I’ll just go up there with you, and Sergeant Brown can give James his coffee.” She raised her voice to call, “Sergeant Brown,” and when the young man put an embarrassed head around the door, she added, “are you handy enough to give Mr. Brewster some coffee? I’ve just got to go upstairs for a few minutes.”
    When the sergeant agreed to “have a try,” James moved heavily into the kitchen and Fredericka was glad enough to get away from him as she followed Philippine up the stairs. At the top, Fredericka hesitated. She was now a little ashamed of her officiousness. Philippine could find the things herself. She knew where the storeroom was.
    “It’s just some papers Mrs. Hartwell wants—hospital insurance or something, and some of Margie’s things,” Philippine explained.
    “They’re probably in here, then,” Fredericka said. She was unable to resist the temptation to go with her visitor to the storeroom.
    Philippine opened a trunk and looked through a box of papers hurriedly, removing one or two. Then she stared around the room a little vaguely and picked up a few oddments that looked to Fredericka more like toys than anything else. “I don’t know what she does want, except for these papers,” she confessed.
    “I should think some extra nightgowns, if there are any,” Fredericka suggested practically. “There are clothes in that chest of drawers under the window, I think.”
    Philippine kept looking around the room at the collection of objects strewn on the floor, window sills and tops of tables and chairs. But in a moment she went to the chest and, after looking through several drawers, did, in fact, find some pyjamas that looked more like Margie than Mrs. Hartwell. “I’ll just take these, then—and fly,” she announced, slamming the drawer with an air of finality.
    Fredericka closed the door and followed Philippine down the stairs. They found James and the sergeant in earnest conversation. The subject seemed to be taxation. The air in the kitchen was thick with cigar smoke and Fredericka was very glad to see James get up at once when Philippine called to him.
    At the door Fredericka put her arm in Philippine’s. “Give my love to Margie,” she said quietly, “and try not to worry too much. I’m sure things will all come right,” she added with more cheerfulness than she felt.
    Philippine turned and kissed her impulsively. “You are good, Fredericka,” she said. “It’s all so grim at the Farm that it’s been wonderful to see you, even for a moment.”
    “Come back soon,” Fredericka called, as they disappeared down the path.
    “I will.” Philippine’s voice came from the distance—“and thanks,” she added as the car door slammed.
    I suppose she does love that beast, Fredericka thought as she turned back into the house. She returned to the kitchen to find that Sergeant Brown had discovered, and turned on, a ventilating fan that she had never noticed before; and that supper was laid out on the table. She sat down gratefully and was able to enjoy not only Sergeant Brown’s sandwiches and coffee but, somewhat to her surprise, his pleasant, untaxing conversation.
    Chapter 12
    Sunday morning meant no alarm clock but