Hue and Cry Read Online Free PDF Page A

really quite handsome, with his eyebrows, black and rather tufty, his bright dark eyes, red color, and silver hair. But Sir George in white Carrara marble! Mally took two steps at a time to get away from him, and would have taken three if it hadn’t been for the footman, who was used to the bust and not disposed to hurry.
    Mally never quite recovered the impression which made her want to run away. She never got nearer to it than the bald statement that the thing gave her the pip. It wasn’t the whiteness, or the coldness, or the immobility, or anything she could put into words; but she wanted to run a hundred miles and never come back. Instead, she followed the footman along a corridor, and was ushered in upon a strictly domestic scene.
    In a room of reassuringly moderate size blue curtains were drawn, a fire burned pleasantly, and a middle-aged lady sat knitting, whilst close to her, hunched up in a large armchair, a slim little girl pored over a book, with a hand on either cheek and untidy hair tumbled all about her face. In the very middle of the hearth an orange Persian cat and a pale, malevolent pug sat side by side.
    â€œMiss Lee,” said the footman, and departed.
    The pug, the little girl, and the cat remained unmoved by the announcement; but the middle-aged lady said, “Oh, dear!” dropped a stitch, said, “Oh, dear!” again, got up, and becoming mysteriously entangled in her wool, let her knitting fall to the ground, and stood still, looking at it helplessly.
    By the time Mally had picked it up, unwound the tangle, and been thanked, she began to feel herself again.
    Mrs. Craddock would not have daunted the most timid person on earth, being herself in a perpetual state of apologizing for something she had done or explaining why she had done it. She wore a lugubrious gray dress braided with black, and was further adorned with a necklet and ear-rings of bog oak. Her fuzzy, faded hair was curled in a formal fringe and held tightly to her head by a hair-net and a great many hairpins.
    â€œI’m so grateful, Miss Lee. And you’ve picked up the stitch, too! Now I call that really kind. And did you have a pleasant journey?”
    â€œYes, thank you.”
    â€œBarbara—Barbara my dear, this is Miss Lee, your new governess. Won’t you come and shake hands with her?” She used the tone which people employ when they make a request which they are pretty sure will be refused.
    Barbara continued to pore over her book.
    â€œShe’s so spoiled,” said Mrs. Craddock in a whisper calculated to arrest any child’s attention. “So dreadfully spoiled! Sir George refuses her nothing.”
    â€œThen why doesn’t he let me draw?” said Barbara without looking up.
    â€œMy dear—Barbara my dear—I think—I really do think you should come and say how d’you to Miss Lee.”
    â€œDon’t bother her,” said Mally sweetly. “I expect she’s frightened, poor little thing.”
    The tumbled hair was thrown back with a toss, two very bright dark eyes looked out of a round pale face, and an indignant voice said:
    â€œI’m not.”
    Mally gave her a little nod.
    â€œAren’t you?”
    â€œNo, I’m not.”
    Barbara scrambled down from her chair. There was a challenging gleam in Mally’s eye.
    â€œI’m not frightened of any one. I just don’t like governesses. Bimbo doesn’t either—he’ll probably bite you in a minute. He bit three people last week—they all screamed.”
    The pale pug produced a slight rumbling growl at the sound of his name; his eyes slid round swivel-wise and looked coldly at Mally’s ankles; his black lip lifted and showed a line of milk-white teeth.
    â€œI have a frightfully loud scream,” said Mally. Her eyes danced at Barbara.
    Barbara bit her lip, screwed up her face, stamped quite viciously, and then broke into sudden, uncontrollable