The Wonder Read Online Free PDF Page A

the daughter.
    Lib’s uniform was sticking to her sides. For an observant nurse, she reminded herself, time need never be wasted. She noted a plain table, pushed against the windowless back wall. A painted dresser, the lower section barred, like a cage. Some tiny doors set into the walls; recessed cupboards? A curtain of old flour sacks nailed up. All rather primitive, but neat, at least; not quite squalid. The blackened chimney hood was woven of wattle. There was a square hollow on either side of the fire, and what Lib guessed was a salt box nailed high up. A shelf over the fire held a pair of brass candlesticks, a crucifix, and what looked like a small daguerreotype behind glass in a black lacquer case.
    â€œAnd how’s Anna today?” Mr. Thaddeus finally asked when they were all sipping the strong tea, the maid included.
    â€œWell enough in herself, thanks be to God.” Mrs. O’Donnell cast another anxious glance towards the good room.
    Was the girl in there singing hymns with these visitors?
    â€œPerhaps you could tell the nurses her history,” suggested Mr. Thaddeus.
    The woman looked blank. “Sure what history has a child?”
    Lib met Sister Michael’s eyes and took the lead. “Until this year, Mrs. O’Donnell, how would you have described your daughter’s health?”
    A blink. “Well, she’s always been a delicate flower, but not a sniveller or tetchy. If ever she had a scrape or a stye, she’d make it a little offering to heaven.”
    â€œWhat about her appetite?” asked Lib.
    â€œAh, she’s never been greedy or clamoured for treats. Good as gold.”
    â€œAnd her spirits?” asked the nun.
    â€œNo cause for complaint,” said Mrs. O’Donnell.
    These ambiguous answers didn’t satisfy Lib. “Does Anna go to school?”
    â€œOh, Mr. O’Flaherty only doted on her.”
    â€œDidn’t she win the medal, sure?” The maid pointed at the mantel so suddenly that the tea sloshed in her cup.
    â€œThat’s right, Kitty,” said the mother, nodding like a pecking hen.
    Lib looked for a medal and found it, a small bronzed disc in a presentation case beside the photograph.
    â€œBut after she caught the whooping cough when it came through the school last year,” Mrs. O’Donnell went on, “we thought to keep our little colleen home, considering the dirt up there and the windows that do be always getting broken and letting draughts in.”
    Colleen;
that was what the Irish seemed to call every young female.
    â€œDoesn’t she study just as hard at home anyway, with all her books around her? The nest is enough for the wren, as they say.”
    Lib didn’t know that maxim. She pushed on, because it had occurred to her that Anna’s preposterous lie might be rooted in truth. “Since her illness, has she suffered from disturbances of the stomach?” She wondered if violent coughing might have ruptured the child internally.
    But Mrs. O’Donnell shook her head with a fixed smile.
    â€œVomiting, blockages, loose stools?”
    â€œNo more than once in a while in the ordinary course of growing.”
    â€œSo until she turned eleven,” Lib asked, “you’d have described your daughter as delicate, nothing more?”
    The woman’s flaking lips pressed together. “The seventh of April, four months ago yesterday. Overnight, Anna wouldn’t take bite nor sup, nothing but God’s own water.”
    Lib felt a surge of dislike. If this were actually true, what kind of mother would report it with such excitement?
    But of course it wasn’t true, she reminded herself. Either Rosaleen O’Donnell had had a hand in the hoax or the daughter had managed to pull the wool over the mother’s eyes, but in any case, cynical or gullible, the woman had no reason to feel afraid for her child.
    â€œBefore her birthday, had she choked on a morsel? Eaten