Pursuit of a Parcel Read Online Free PDF Page B

ask then what they thought of him, but I got hold of the nurse when I was coming out, and from what she said I’m afraid he’s very bad, but she did allow that there was always a chance.”
    â€œAnd so there is,” said Mrs. Holt briskly—“and Mr. Merridew’s the last one not to take it. And did you get all the business off your mind?”
    â€œWell, I did and I didn’t. It’s a great responsibility, you know, and all come at once. Mr. Girding taken with a stroke last month—and of course you may say he’s been nothing but a figurehead for years, but as long as he was on view, well there he was, and I shouldn’t have felt quite so responsible. But there—he’s out of it. And now Peterson and Mr. Merridew as well.”
    Mrs. Holt poured out his tea, put in a lump of sugar, and pushed it over to him.
    â€œWell, you’ve seen Mr. Merridew, ducks.”
    â€œYes.”
    He began to tell her about seeing Mr. Merridew. He always told Rosie everything, and she always listened in the same comfortable way, not saying very much, but if there was anything unpleasant, she’d somehow take the edge off it, and if there was anything pleasant, it seemed to get pleasanter as he told it.
    The telling took quite a time, because he had to attend to the herrings. Herring-bones require a good deal of attention. When he came to telling her how Mr. Merridew had said, “You’re rather a noble fellow,” she got up and gave him a hug, and he very nearly choked. “And so you are, ducks!”
    â€œOh, no—” he choked again—“I’m not. I didn’t do anything at all—it was just his kindness.”
    â€œTake a good drink of tea, ducks, and a bit of bread—that’ll settle the bone.”
    He drank, and mopped his eyes.
    â€œWell, there’s one thing I’m glad about. Those papers in the Tweddle case—you know the state they’re in—well, he didn’t care about them a bit. ‘Blast the Tweddle papers!’—that’s what he said, and a great relief it was to me to hear him. No, the thing he was in a taking about was that parcel for Mr. Rossiter. It’s something special, it seems, and it’s to be given him by hand—and the trouble is nobody seems to know quite where he is.”
    Mrs. Holt poised a piece of herring midway to her mouth. “Not Mr. Merridew?”
    Emanuel looked worried. “Well, it seems not.”
    â€œNot Miss Delia? Oh, come, ducks—you’ll find Miss Delia will know where he is.”
    Her voice had kept its easy country drawl. It was one of the things which made her so pleasant to be with. There was none of the Londoner’s hurry or quick clipped speech about Rosie. She popped the piece of herring in her mouth and enjoyed it. Not one to hurry over her food any more than over her speech.
    Emanuel shook his head.
    â€œI did take the liberty of putting it to Mr. Merridew that Miss Delia might know, and he said no, she didn’t.”
    Mrs. Holt laughed. It was a very nice laugh, deep and soft. “A girl don’t always tell her uncle what she knows. I didn’t when you came courting me, and Emily didn’t neither, and I don’t suppose girls are any different to what they used to be.” A faint cloud went over her face. “Do you suppose Doris tells us everything?”
    Emanuel’s mouth fell open a little.
    â€œDoesn’t she, Rosie?”
    â€œNo, Em, she doesn’t. The girl’s not born that does. So I say, see Miss Delia for yourself and put it to her, can she get word to Mr. Antony Rossiter that you’ve got something to his advantage waiting to be handed over to him, and what about it?”
    Emanuel thoughtfully removed a bone from his mouth.
    â€œI don’t know that it’s to his advantage, Rosie.” And then, “Well, you know, I’ve an idea they’ve quarrelled.”
    Mrs.