|
|
|
|
|
|
that his rememdy might be a worse danger than neglect, but she had to say something. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Linda shook her head. "Maybe it's better that I don't know anything about bad hearts, Mr. Tattersall," she said. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"What the hell do you mean by that?" the young man roared. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Linda was so startled by his reaction that she jumped and, on the other side of the door, there was a crash and a shriek. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"What was that?" Linda cried, leaping to her feet. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Good God," Peter muttered, "I've done it again." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
It was the first time that he had indicated he was aware of his propensity for causing household disasters, but Linda had no time to think about it. By then she had the door open to expose Gertrude, wringing her hands over a mangled mass of cookies, broken cups, hot water, milk, and sugar. Only the closed can of coffee and the plastic coffee drippers, rolling in tight little circles in the mess, were intact. Linda fled to the kitchen for a broom and a cloth to clear up. Before the broken glass was picked up and the milk sopped up and sponged away with cold water, Peter had to leave to bring his aunt home. Linda could not understand what she had said that could have enraged him, but she was sorry there had been no time to explain what she felt about his aunt not being watched too closely. She would have to find another opportunity to be alone with him. |
|
|
|
|
|