HF - 05 - Sunset Read Online Free PDF

from the Cockpit But we'll do it legally, Harry. There'll be a statement I'll see you in the morning.'
    He climbed the stairs, stopp ed in surprise at the sight of h is daughter.
    'Meg? Whatever are you doing up?'
    'I heard the noise. Papa, has a man really been shot? By Mr McAvoy?'
    He rumpled her hair. 'A burglar. One of the bad men from the mountains. Only bad men live in the mountains, you know. If they weren't bad, they'd be down here looking for work. Harry was doing his duty. Now off you go to bed, and forget about it.'
    'Careful, chil', careful.' Prudence held the first boot for Meg to slip her foot inside. The boot was made of cream kid, with black patent leather toe and heel, and red laces, and Prudence stroked it lovingly as she held it; she had never seen anything quite so magnificent in her life.
    Neither had Meg; the pair was her birthday present from Papa. Now she carefully fitted her foot inside, and Prudence made sure the tongue was properly settled, and then slowly tightened the laces.
    'Not too tight,' Meg begged.
    'It got for be tight, chil’ . Or it going slip around your foot and make blisters.'
    Meg extended the other foot. The first boot certainly fitted perfectly, at this moment. Soon her left foot was also encased, and she could stand, and listen to the faint creak of the new leather, and the clump of her heels as she walked up and down; she had gained at least two inches in height.
    Prudence rocked back on her heels. 'You looking too good this day, Mistress Meg. You looking good enough to eat.'
    Meg held the glass up at arm's length, the better to see; she did not possess a full-length mirror. Her hair was brushed and washed and lay straight down past her shoulders; her face had been scrubbed until it glowed, a welcome pink peeping through the brown suntan; her blue gown was linen, her very best, and it had been carefully pressed by Prudence; and her stockings were also her best, with only a single ladder up the inside of the left calf. But no one was going to see that. And everyone would see the new boots. She dug her fingers into her skirt the better to raise it a little higher, so that the whole ankle was exposed.
    "There then,' Prudence said. 'You go get your Papa. I got that cake to see to.'
    Meg went into the corridor, her heels drumming in her ears. She knocked on the study door, waited her usual second, and then entered. It was four o'clock in the afternoon; normally siesta would be ending, and the overseers would be pulling on their riding boots and getting ready to start their second session in the fields. Not that Papa ever took a siesta. He spent the hot part of the day working at his interminable figures. But today, in any event, he would not be returning aback; it was her birthday.
    'What is it?' The pen continued to scratch away.
    'It's Meg, Papa. It's four o'clock.'
    The pen was laid down. Anthony Hilton picked up the huge old gold watch which had belonged to Great-Grand-father, and no doubt to other Hiltons before that. 'My word,' he said, raising the cover. 'So it is.' He smiled at her. 'Your birthday party. And you are looking very pretty today.' Yet for some reason he accompanied the compliment with a faint frown, as if he hadn't expected such a thing to be possible.
    'Thank you, Papa.' She did a small curtsy.
    'Miss Meg. Miss Meg.' Prudence hurried along the corridor. 'You got guests, Miss Meg.'
    'I'm coming. Be sure Hannibal is chained.'
    He had a habit of biting strangers.
    'I'm coming as well.' Anthony Hilton got up slowly; he was not yet forty, but he moved like an old man. 'We'll greet them together. Fifteen. My word. Why, you are almost a woman.' He might have been talking to himself.
    But to her amazement he took her hand in his, walked with her down the corridor. She felt an immense sense of excited pride. Perhaps he no longer hated her now she was fifteen. Now she was almost a woman.
    Percy had already opened the door, and Harry and Helen McAvoy were there, with Alan