New Britain herald. [microfilm reel] (New Britain, Conn.) 1890-1976, 1927-07-18
Sa1YS; . Shoulders ?e!l!s !I :

she called on her way to the kitchen
TO put on the coffee. He wants M
to come down to the office for {
couple Of hours this morning"
well, what on earth for?" Mrs
Jerome followed Sally out to the
kitchen. Isn't he content witt
working YOU like a slave six days a
week? Will he pay you anything
extra for this? On Sunday m morning
| too! The old slave driver!" She
was all Indignation.
who going to get Sunday din
ner, I'd like to know" she went on
| miserably. You know, I'd be glad
to do 1t, but it's so hot in this
kitchen with that oven going. And
my head is splitting, as it is. was
just going to take some aspirin"
She went slowly back to her bed
room carrying the Sunday paper
under her arm.
Don't worry. Mother" Sally CALL
ed out to her. TN put everything
on to cook before I go, and turn the
gas down low Then you and Millie
can watch things"
Mr.. Peevey had said that he
wanted Sally to work "a couple of
hours" that hot Sunday morning.
But at half past one she was still
in the office with him, transcribing
the letters that he had given to her.
lof CHI "a
had tapped out the last OF them.
she asked Mr.. Peevey of she might
use the telephone.
i've left our Sunday dinner on
the stove, and I'm afraid my sister
may forget to look at It," she told
him, while she was waiting for
Central to get the number.
She could hear her ringing It.
time after time. But there was no
answer.
That's funny" said Sally puzzled.
There's always someone there"
There's probably someone there
now" snapped Mr.. Peevey in his
angry little way. Its just the fool
lively enjoy annoying people," Mr.,
Pcevey was always "bawling OUT
the telephone girls over his own
wire. He was one Of those lima
tured, fusy people who think, that
the whole words is against them.
Sally nodded her head. stamped
the letters he had asked her to drop
into the mail chute. and started
home.
1t was half past two when E, c
got there.
She unlocked the door and
stepped into the living room. It was
in its usual Sunday morning dsor-
der-papers scattered about, bits of
clothing hung over chairs. Beau's
tan oxfords kicked into a corner.
"Yoo-hoo!" called Sally. as she
often did when she came home.
Usually her mother would answer
her from her bedroom.
She waited for reply now. But
there was none. Dead silence brood
ed over the rooms.
She went out to the kitchen. The
leg of lamb was roasted to a crisp
brown in the oven. The peas and
the potatoes were fast boiling dry
on the top of the stove, but they
had not burned.
Sally turned off the gas and hur-
ried to her mothers room.
1t was empty. The bed had been
made, the dresser set to rights, and
the shades drawn.
Beau's room had been straighten-
ed up, too, in a careless lick-and-a
promise way.
In the little room where Millie
and Mabel Wilmot had slept, the
bed Mabel had occupied was made
up. But Miles was just as Millie
doubtless had left 1t that morning
when she stepped out upon the rug.
Mile never aired her bed, any
more than she kept her hair-brush
clean or darned her stockings.
"Millie should have been born
with a gold spoon In her mouth"
Mrs. Jerome often said in a pleased
kind Of way. And a body-servant
to walk behind her and pick up the
things she drops"
NIiliie evidently thought that. too.
Her night gown was on the floor,
and her flowered kimono was slung
across the toilet things on her
dressing table. AS Sally picked it up
she saw that a bit of paper had
been pinned conspicuously to its
folds.
Across it Mile had scrawled:
Davidson came to take us all for
a drive. Sorry you weren't here.
lovey. Well he back early, and I'm
going to ask him for supper. So
set an extra place, will Nou?-M."
ITO RE CONTINrED1