The Day of Small Things: A Novel

Editorial Reviews. Review. “Vicki Lane is a born storyteller in the finest tradition of Sharyn.
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Calven feels like maybe he has been kidnapped, although he What is not to love here? Calven feels like maybe he has been kidnapped, although he does wonder if it IS kidnapping if your own mama does it. Prin, as usual, has hooked up with the worst man possible. This one is not just bad, he is scary. Can Calven get home? Can Miss Birdie and Dorothy find him? Miss Birdie has to go back into her past to decide how far she will go to defeat evil and protect innocence. Dec 05, Zanib Sajjad rated it really liked it. I really don't know what to say about this book. Least, the little girl that starts us off, has a special tallent.

She has cherokee magic for those who do not know what that is, i suggest you stop reading. No no, just kidding, go on, uh, you might want to google 'cherokee magic Anyway Her mother is cruel and bruatal, she has thought Least nothing of the real world. Least makes a friend though, Lilah Bel you will love Lilah who proves to be very usefull in the future. Although Lilah stops visiting least when "god has chosen her" sarcastic voice chosen lilah Least is all alone, until 'granny beck' comes to live with least and her mother.

Leasts granny teaches her how to use the special tallents to help her in the future, but unfortunatly, granny beck dies of old age. Least ones again is all alone, romance coming but she meets a boy, ho she falls in love with speeding things up Least waits for boy Least escapes to another place to wait for her boy. We must now say goodbye to least and welcome 'Redbird Ray' Redbird becomes a dancing sensation, and goes through a lot of difficult times. After redbird ray, we must welcome 'miss birdie'. It's like one of those journeys you take, going through 80 years, even though it takes you only like, a week to finish.

There are a lot of characters that you will miss, and that will make you crie. OH i missed her so much". The ending is happy, soo happy that it will bring you to sorrowfull tears. What more can I say i'm really out of words Jan 15, Nikki rated it it was amazing Shelves: In The Day of Small Things , Lane steps aside from her Elizabeth Goodweather series to explore the history of Miss Birdie, a character who has had a part to play in some of the previous books.

Birdie -- who has had several different names in her long life -- richly deserved her own book. Readers looking for a fast-paced, thrill-a-minute story will not find it here. This is a book to get lost in -- lost in another time, another place, another world. It's been clear throughout the series that Miss Birdie is something more than a kindly old country neighbor, and through this book we find just how much more she is. The tension between old ways and new ways is a major theme in The Day of Small Things.

And if you think of Appalachian forms of Christianity snake-handling for example as "old ways " you may be surprised when Miss Birdie goes back to still older ways to help her late husband's kinfolk in their time of crisis. As I said above readers who just want action and detection may not enjoy this book. There is not a lot of mystery in the detection sense but there is plenty in the spiritual sense. I loved spending these days with Miss Birdie and I know too that having read book: Sep 28, Janet rated it it was amazing Shelves: I have to admit that I was initially disappointed when I learned that the new book would not be picking up where In a Dark Season left off, but Miss Birdie was a favorite supporting character, so I was very hopeful.

Vicki Lane has again written a moving and compelling story set in Appalachia with all its mystery, mythology, and magic. This is the story of Least and what she would become. From her early life as the unloved "Least", she learns to listen to the voices around her and with her Granny I have to admit that I was initially disappointed when I learned that the new book would not be picking up where In a Dark Season left off, but Miss Birdie was a favorite supporting character, so I was very hopeful.

From her early life as the unloved "Least", she learns to listen to the voices around her and with her Granny Beck's help, learns all about the old stories and the "old ways". She finds that she must reinvent herself a few times to keep herself safe until the time that she is to meet her beloved. With help from a mysterious stranger, she keeps her vow to meet him and, for love of him, gives up her magic, becomes his Miss Birdie, and lives a devout Christian life.

Although there are sorrows and tragedies in their years together, she hasn't really looked back to what she gave up. Not until the lives of a young boy and a young girl are put on the line. She then has to decide upon which path she will walk. I was up very late last night finishing this. I had tried to pace myself a bit, but got to a point where I could not put the book down not knowing what was going to happen next and I raced to the end. Sep 28, Sheila Beaumont rated it it was amazing Shelves: What a lovely, magical book! At first I was taken aback when I found out that this fifth suspense novel by Vicki Lane was not to be another in the Elizabeth Goodweather series especially since the fourth book, In a Dark Season , ended in something of a cliff-hanger , but instead would center on one of the supporting characters, Miss Birdie.

As it turned out, I loved this tale, in which the reader comes to know an Appalachia in which the characters are not the usual stereotypes, but real, human ch What a lovely, magical book! As it turned out, I loved this tale, in which the reader comes to know an Appalachia in which the characters are not the usual stereotypes, but real, human characters. This is a beautifully written novel of mythic depth, even incorporating the legends of Thomas the Rhymer and the Wandering Jew, in which the forces of the local Pentecostal religion and ancient Cherokee magical lore combine to defeat an unspeakably evil man, who Miss Birdie sees as the Raven Mocker of Cherokee legend, and save an innocent boy.

Like the Elizabeth Goodweather books, this one is a wonderful read, not to be missed. May 13, Janna Zonder rated it it was amazing. Written in three parts, the novel is filled with folklore, authentic language, local history, and a riveting plot that kept me reading well into the night until I finished.

Oh, and did I mention the characters? Miss Birdie, one of my all-time favorites, has played a small role in some of Lane's earlier novels. But, in this one, Birdie is front and center, where she belongs! If you're looking for an intelligent mystery with well-developed characters, this is the book for you! Once again, Vicki Lane writes another magical tale - this one about Miss Birdie's life. Part of what I love about these is the location, because I was lucky enough in my youth to spend some time in that area and a favorite relative has a cabin there now.

So, my point being, that "place" is as much of a character in Ms. Lane's stories, as the humans. I've said this in one previous review and I'm sticking by it again. Jan 02, Joanny rated it it was amazing. Vicki Lane is a versatile writer, she researched thoroughly her topic of choice. I believe every one has a purpose and some folks are more in tune then others, and Ms Lane certainly has that keen understanding of the people and the place of Appalachia - and in general folklore.

Her style of write will engage you from the beginning to the end, no wasted words, or caught up in the details, that nebulous area for some writers -- but said in a very highly descriptive form This book can almost be Vicki Lane is a versatile writer, she researched thoroughly her topic of choice.

This book can almost be categorized as an historical fiction. A book well worth the read. Jun 20, Tommie Lyn rated it it was amazing. I gave this book 5 stars only because there's not a 6 star option. Vicki Lane accurately captured the culture, the place, the people of the mountains where I grew up. And I felt like I'd come home. It was such a delight discovering Vicki Lane and I'm looking forward to reading her other works. Oct 16, Doris Powell rated it liked it. I always enjoy reading Vicki Lane. I love her backdrop of the North Carolina Mountains.

This book featured Birdie Gentry. She has been a supporting character in Vicki Lane's previous books. That is why it helped a little bit to have read her previous books. The book kept me interested throughout. I always wondered what happened to Least's mother throughout the book. On the very last page the author told what had happened to her,. Oct 13, Caroline rated it liked it. It was good but I'm wanting to read more about Elizabeth soon. Miss Birdie had a very compelling life story though! As with all of Vicki's books, it was extremely well-written and fascinating with information about life in the Carolina mountains.

Sep 25, Cranbery rated it really liked it. I liked this book, but not as much as the first ones she wrote. Hope she goes back to the original story line next book! Vicki is a wonderful author Sep 11, Nancy Martin rated it it was amazing. Once in a while I am fortunate enough to find a novel that will stay with me forever A lovely story, wonderfully written. Apr 18, Kathy rated it it was amazing.

I really enjoyed this one, lots of interesting characters and fast-paced. In it, the mother names her youngest child "Least" because she knew she'd always be the least one. Sounds like stories my grandmother used to tell. May 29, Beth Van Fossen rated it really liked it. This book is not actually an Elizabeth Goodweather mystery; instead it gives the background of Miss Birdie, Elizabeth's elderly neighbor and friend.

They're very friendly people, fond of getting up things and entertaining their friends. The Fentons, of course, are almost nearer neighbours, but they are a lot away--very sociable, though, when they are at home You are having the experience we had three years ago: I'm a solitary woman My husband died after a long illness, from wounds received in the War. I stayed with a brother in Kenya for a time, but I've always wanted a place to settle down in and now I've got it.

If people are nice to me I shall be grateful, but I feel it won't be very amusing for them to come here. I dare say I shall have a certain number of people staying with me, but I'm afraid I've got rather to like living alone. Nicole and I are solitary too, and, like you, don't mind it much. We are fortunate in having a small boy to help us along. We have just had to let him go off to school and are missing him horribly. But we look forward to the Christmas holidays Now, Nicole, we must be off. We are keeping Mrs. Jameson from her tea--so much needed and so well earned after an afternoon in the garden.

You will come and see us soon, won't you? The first wet day, perhaps? You know where to find us? You turn round the corner at "Roabert" Mitchell's shop and straight down the Brae to the foot. Be careful, then, not to imitate the Gadarene swine The room hardly seemed so bleak now, there lingered in it something of the personality of the women who had just left it. There was a tiny green-edged handkerchief lying on the chair she had sat in; it smelt faintly of geranium, the scent of the leaf when you crush it in your fingers.

They had expected to miss the small Alastair from the Harbour House, but they were hardly prepared for the very large hole his going to school made in their daily life. Alastair had lived most of his short life in Kirkmeikle, having been sent home from Canada when his father died, to his aunt, Miss Symington of the villa Ravenscraig. She had given him a home somewhat grudgingly, and the child had led a dreary existence until Simon Beckett took rooms next door, and Nicole Rutherfurd came to the Harbour House.

They had both taken an instant liking to the lonely, small boy in the too large overcoat whom they christened The Bat, and had tried to make things gayer for him. When Miss Symington surprised every one--herself most of all--by marrying Mr. Samuel Innes, a widower with two schoolgirl daughters, it was obvious that she regarded Alastair as an encumbrance, and when Lady Jane, urged on by Nicole, proposed that they should take the boy and bring him up, she, though amazed at such an offer, gladly accepted it.

Since then, for Alastair, the desert places had blossomed like a rose. His nurse known as Gentle Annie, owing to her partiality for a song of that name went with him to the Harbour House, and when she left--very reluctantly, though she was going to 'better' herself--a cheerful young governess took her place and tried to guide The Bat's unwilling feet along the thorny track of knowledge.

He had still the same Puck-like face and concerned blue eyes, but he had grown tall and his legs were brown and firm. He was not, perhaps, such a virtuous child as he had been while an inmate of Ravenscraig, though Nicole declared that he was much too virtuous for her liking. Because of his gentleness they had been a little afraid of how he would get on at school. But Barnabas, a young cousin of Nicole's, and a great friend of Alastair's, was at the same school, and he seemed to have settled down without trouble.

Rather dirty, oddly spelt letters arrived at intervals at the Harbour House containing such items of news as: A few days after their call at Windywalls Nicole and her mother sat at breakfast in their dining-room with its white panelled walls, striped silk curtains, and Hepplewhite chairs.

There was something particularly fresh about morning in the Harbour House, a tang in the salt air, a feeling of life and activity from the Harbour; fishwives passing with their creels, cheerily gossiping; fishermen working with their nets. Kilgour was telling me yesterday that this postman's predecessor was a great character. He was old and lame and amazingly casual. He would sit on the Green Brae with his letters laid round him, and read all the postcards; then he would begin his rounds, shouting at one door: Johnston frae Langtoun'll be here to tea this afternoon.

Kilgour, "There's a caird to ye from Nice" which he pronounced to rhyme with mice , "an' there was a letter but it blawed intil the sea. Kilgour was expecting an important letter he didn't think it was as good a joke as Posty did. But wasn't it amusing? Lady Jane smiled and said, 'Almost too amusing. I'm glad we don't live in his day Here comes Effie with our budget. And I was congratulating myself on having got out of debt with a lot of people--Yes, there's one from The Bat.

His writing hasn't begun to improve yet Nicole glanced over her share of the letters, and leaving her mother still engrossed, took Alastair's dog, Spider, for a run. Spider was a cross between a wire-haired terrier and a Sealyham, with a black patch over one eye and the disposition of an angel. It was a bright morning, but earlier there had been an ominously red sky, and Nicole distrusted the brightness. It was an anxious business taking Spider for a walk; for he had a trick of squatting in the middle of the road when he saw a motor approaching, which turned his owner's heart to water.

Nicole's own private conviction had been that he was a surprisingly stupid dog, but this morning when she lost sight of him, and after calling and whistling wildly, turned round to find him standing with a distinct smile on his face so close to her heels that she had failed to notice him, she began to wonder if he were not more knave than fool. At luncheon Lady Jane was rather silent, and her daughter asked if she were still thinking about her morning's letters.

I don't think you ever met Sybil and Freddie Gort? It was a miserable business. Freddie was a likeable creature to meet but he made a wretched husband, and Sybil wasn't without blame either. They were divorced, and this poor child, Althea, lived between the couple, not much wanted, I fear, by either. When her mother died last year Blanchie took her to live with her and brought her out--you remember she wanted you to go up for the coming-out dance?

I was so pleased about it, for Blanchie has had rather a lonely life since James died, and Althea might have been such an interest to her, but the child seems to have got into rather a bad set and got entangled with some undesirable--Blanchie isn't very coherent Lady Jane held out several scrawled sheets to her daughter who seemed rather callous over the tale of woe. She took them, remarking:. Paul might say, Written from Rome. Bed always was a very present help in time of trouble to poor Aunt Blanchie. It's amazing what a defence sheets and blankets are to some people against fortune's slings and arrows.

Of course she never was fit to look after a girl. Providence knew that and sent her only boys. The idea came to me suddenly in the night: Will you take Althea to live with you for a little? She would be away from temptation and surrounded by your wonderful influence. I always say that no one does me so much good to be with, and dear Nicole would be such a splendid example for Althea" Mummie, she is a fool.

What a preposterous suggestion! You don't mean to say that you would entertain even for a moment the thought of having that girl here? Why--why she would simply shatter us. Have you any notion what the girl of to-day is like? With a mild Victorian creature like me for a daughter you've been shielded from the worst What would a girl like Althea do here?

A restless creature, probably never happy except when amusing herself, caged in the Harbour House! And what would we say to her? There was a girl at Bice's last month; just out, frightfully attractive to look at, but to speak to--Nothing interested her, not plays nor pictures nor books. She said she didn't mind games, but the only thing that really amused her was to wriggle her body in time to the latest tune.

I thought I could talk to any one, but I was beaten that time. Only--she hasn't had much of a chance, has she? I can't think that either Sybil's friends or Freddie's were very improving; however It's really for poor Blanchie's sake. Naturally she feels responsible, and it would be such a pity to let the child ruin her life by marrying some undesirable if it can possibly be prevented.

And with The Bat at school--and you did say, darling, you wished you had more work'. The discussion continued in the drawing-room until Nicole, exasperated, cried: You pretend to be convinced by my unanswerable arguments, but you always return to the attack--I can't think why you want the creature here Jameson appeared, announcing as she entered 'You said the first wet day, and here I am. Lady Jane gave her a kind greeting, while Nicole remarked: Is that where you like to sit, Mrs. Won't you be cold so far from the fire? Do please go on with your work, Lady Jane.

Yes, it is rather a good design. At present it is nothing but a mud-puddle with some stones in it. I shall have to give it up till spring--' She looked round the quiet, pleasant room full of treasures out of other days, and made a discontented face. All your things seem to mean something; mine look so accidental, somehow. I expect I haven't caught the knack yet of making things look homelike. You see, although I'm thirty-five, this is the first time I've tried my hand at home-making.

There was silence for a minute, then Lady Jane said: We were married in July, and we had got a little house in Westminster that we meant to furnish by degrees, just as we picked things up. We were always finding treasures and storing them up, even on our honeymoon we were looking out for old brass and lacquer and having it sent back After that my husband was in camp training, and I lived in rooms as near as I could get to him, and in six months he was in France. In I got him home, broken I was in Nairobi with my brother for some years--then he married and I travelled about, longing yet dreading to come back.

At last I was driven back by my desire to have a house, a place to dig myself into. I found Windywalls--and that's all about me. When we were pulled up from our home in the Borders we came here and quickly struck root--We are fortunate, Nicole and I, to have each other. He was a man of nearly seventy, with white hair, a high-coloured face, and a manner as brusque as the prevailing wind of his native place.

So you're the new tenant! It'll take you all your time to fill Mrs. I dare say it would kill him to leave, though he must hate to see strangers about the place. He's about the last living example of that loyalty to a family that used to be so common. Not that he ever let the Drysdales know he adored them, but to the world outside he boasted late and early. I remember meeting him when Pat the youngest Drysdale joined up.

I saw a lot of him at that time, his wife had a long illness and I was in and out of the house. When she was getting better she knitted constantly for lonely soldiers whose names she had been given, and every fortnight they sent away a parcel. She told me "We pit in socks and comforters, and cigarettes and sweeties, an' Fawther there pits in a cheery word aboot killin' Germans.

He was, or pretended to be, enormously confident. The first thing he pinned his faith to was "The Rooshians. A cousin of a man he knew saw them knocking the snow off their boots as they passed through Galashiels in August. The Rooshians were going to finish the War almost at once. Then it was the Ghurkas: Russia, the road-roller, was the next prop. His sole remaining prop was the Drysdale boys. He bore Norman's death, but when Pat the baby went, it was too much for him.

I thought he was merely a cantankerous old man. I'll be more patient with him now. He's worked in that garden, boy and man, for nearly sixty years, and it can't be long now before he goes to give in his account. I think myself he'll get an abundant entrance. All the time when speaking, Dr. Kilgour was devouring, rapidly, scones, sandwiches, cake, and draining several cups of tea, and he now sprang to his feet and announced his departure.

Jameson, hope you'll like Fife--Miss Nicole, I've got a job for you I'll tell you again. Good-bye, Lady Jane, and thanks for my good tea' He disappeared out of the door, still speaking, and in a second they heard the front door slam behind him. Lady Jane poured some boiling water from the kettle into the teapot and said placidly: When I meet him tearing about the wynds, or far out on the country roads, he shouts, "There are twelve hours in the day.

He is terribly conscientious about his panel patients, and all the poor folk, but somewhat short with the leisured classes. His one great desire is to work at the book he is writing on the town and district--he is exceedingly learned--and very rarely does he get a few hours off in the evening. No sooner does he sit comfortably down by the fire with his books round him than he is called up.

His sister says he always begins by saying flatly, " I won't go ," but in a little while she sees him drawing his old boots from their hidy-hole. He sometimes says, "If I go, it'll be simple colic: Most of your evenings you'll be alone, except when the Fentons have their house full, or the Erskines are feeling lively. Every day you'll do more or less the same thing.

It doesn't bore me to do the same thing at the same time every day. And I like to fiddle in the house and play myself in the garden and read by the fire at nights, but that is only pleasing myself. I'd love to help a little. So long as one takes a hand with the local things, and gives what one can'. Nicole nodded her head at the guest. Let's put it to Mrs. Jameson, and get her advice--Would you like to take a young girl of nineteen to pay you a long visit, a spoiled, very modern girl who will hate the country?

Lady Jane demurred at this, but her daughter insisted. Why, she only knows cities--London and Paris--Monte Carlo. But you'--she turned to Nicole--'you are young enough to cope with the modern minx. Why should we spoil things for ourselves by bringing a strange girl into the house? She will never come with my goodwill Kilgour and the man in the Bible who "afterwards repented Heggie came to luncheon at the Harbour House, Mrs. Martin, the cook, took extra pains, for, if one may so put it, Mrs. Heggie was worth the feeding. Her excitement over a new dish, her appreciation of good cooking, was highly encouraging to any cook.

All the appointments of the table interested her, and she kept up a running fire of comments and compliments. Nicole often said that it would be a much more interesting world if there were more people in it like Mrs. Heggie, and certainly she gave spice to Kirkmeikle society. Lambert, the only other guests, seemed almost like phantoms against her broad beaming exuberance. Lambert was the small shy minister of Kirkmeikle, a man widely read and deeply learned, much better fitted for a professor's chair than for his present job.

He had no small talk, and it was torture for him to visit pastorally his flock; he could not remember the numbers and ages of the different families; it was absolutely impossible for him to make facetious remarks; he had never been known to relate an anecdote, and what conversation he had was impeded by a stammer. It was a painful sight to see the small figure of the minister sunk sadly in a chair, while a decent man and his wife rubbed hands, damp with nervousness, on their garments, and tried vainly to think of something to say beyond, 'Ay, it's cauld the nicht,' or 'Rale mild for the time o' year.

It was different, they acknowledged, in time of trouble. Lambert came as one having authority, and his people were glad of him. Lambert was a fragile slip of a creature with a face like a wood-anemone, but she had a high heart and worked like a Trojan to help her husband. And when the door was shut on the outside world the two were blissfully happy, with their books and their music, and their small daughters, Bessie and Aillie.

Lady Jane was one of the few people to whom Mr. Lambert found anything to say, and on this occasion she so inspired him that he conversed quite volubly all through luncheon on seventeenth-century poetry. Heggie was heartily sick of him, but directly they had moved to the drawing-room, he looked at his watch, muttering to himself like the White Rabbit, shook hands with his hostess, and incontinently departed, without either his wife or his umbrella.

Heggie got her chance. Lambert, can't you stay a little? It's so long since we saw you. Lambert said, 'I'd like to stay. It seems always a long three months that you are away, though the holiday month comes in to shorten it. Yes, we had a very nice time. We were in Ayrshire--Ballantrae--quite lovely and a complete change. Bessie has gone to school and Aillie's feeling terribly left out. We have had to give her a satchel and a lesson-book, and she pretends all morning that she is doing lessons'.

Heggie gave an impatient lurch forward in her chair, and with an expectant smile on her face, said: He merely eats and sleeps and gurgles and is very virtuous. His nurse says there never was a better baby. I wouldn't have believed that Barbara would have been like that. Constantly running up to the nursery and fussing over him, going pale if he seemed to cry without reason.

She is so proud of him, so thankful for him, that she can't smile about him. I verily believe poor Babs has had an anxious pain ever since he was born. It's not all fun having a beautiful little son. When there's half a dozen you take things easier. In these later days children are few and precious. But it's quite true what you say, Mrs. Heggie, numbers bring with them a certain placidity.

I was one of nine myself, and I have a picture in my mind of my mother, still quite young and very pretty, with her whole brood tumbling about her at a birthday picnic or some such celebration. Accidents constantly occurred, for there were five wild boys, and I remember the composed way she received cuts and bruises, and even broken bones: Heggie listened almost reverently, remarking with a sigh, 'Yours must have been a beautiful family circle, Lady Jane. Looking back I can see so many pictures: And hot summer days when we took tea by the lily-pond, and my mother allowed herself to be taken on a tour of inspection round our different gardens which my father used to say reminded him of the parable of the sower of the seed, they seemed to give so little return for the care bestowed and the pocket-money spent on them.

I wish all mothers would fill their children's minds with pictures. They may be quite happy at school and in the holidays, but they ought to have more to remember than long days in nursery or schoolroom; being pulled up about their manners; or dressed up for evenings at parties or pantomimes. They want intimate pleasures. Parents must give themselves if they want to mean anything to their children. Heggie, as she listened, thought of Joan and wondered if she had failed somewhere in bringing her up.

She doubted if Joan had any pretty mind pictures of her childhood, though she felt she had honestly done her best as a mother. Perhaps she had not known how to tell stories well, at least the children had not cared much to listen; the boys had either been taking things to pieces--they were mechanically inclined--or playing violent games with other boys; and Joan even as a child had been slightly scornful of her mother's efforts.

Heggie supposed it must be different with children in the higher walk of life: She listened now, humbly, for she felt very much aware of her own shortcomings, to a story Mrs. Lambert was telling about Bessie noticing few men in church and remarking to her mother: I expect she's frightfully pleased about the baby? Jackson's state of proud bliss. You would think no one had ever been a grandmother before. We were all there for the christening, and it was more amusing than any play to see her manoeuvring to get the baby to herself.

She began at once to call him Andrew, and she addresses him as if he were about her own age, makes long speeches to him and supplies the answers herself. It has given her a wonderful new interest in life. First it was perambulators--she raked through all the Glasgow shops for the very latest model, had it done up in the shade she thought most suitable, embroidered a fine cover, and that was that. Then the christening cloak, the silver quaich, and mugs and spoons; the mass of small woolly garments--she must have been a boon to bazaars!

And this winter, I expect, she will roam happily through the toyshops, purchasing gigantic plush animals and jumping-jacks and balls for that poor solemn infant who doesn't know his right hand from his left. Barbara looked rather despairingly at the things that were crowding up the nursery, for Mrs. Jackson doesn't stop at toys and woollies, she goes on to furniture. She saw and admired a set of nursery furniture, white wood painted with characters from nursery rhymes, and that arrived and looked quite out of place among the other things.

It would have been delightful for a nursery in a bright new flat, but at Rutherfurd--But it makes her happy, and Barbara has the sense to appreciate the good intention. Heggie agreed, 'she has need to value the kind interest, for the years take away those that care most, and young Mrs. Jackson hasn't a mother of her own--though I'm sure you've been more than a mother to her, Lady Jane I remember so well how I missed my mother when my third was born. I just lay and cried, remembering the fuss she had made over the other two and the way she had sat at the fire with the new baby on her lap and said, "My, but you're bonnie.

Heggie wiped away a tear at the recollection, and Nicole tried to imagine her friend as young, and perhaps, slim. It was difficult to see her except as trimly upholstered in shining black; but her eyes must have been the same when she was a child, round and innocent and wondering. Heggie was enjoying herself immensely, and hoped Mrs. Lambert would not make a move to go for some time. She broke again into speech. Jackson's a delightful person.

I never forget how much I enjoyed meeting her when she stayed here. I wish I could see more of her. She gave me some fine recipes. I've tried them all, and we have them regularly. Will she be paying you another visit soon, do you think? Lady Jane looked vague, and Nicole said: Jackson in Glasgow some day: I quite long to see it, though I know I'd hate to live in it. With great loss of life too. That's my great fear about old houses. Now Windywalls is a nice sort of house, neither too old nor too new, just settled and comfortable looking--Have you managed to call yet, Lady Jane?

She hasn't a vestige of mourning. She was only married in I do hope Mrs. Jameson will like being here. She is prepared to be pleased, and that is the chief thing. I wonder if having seen a lot of the world makes it easier to settle down, or the reverse! Having seen nothing, you want to see nothing; having seen much, perhaps you want to see all.

Heggie, 'Kirkmeikle and the neighbourhood is very quiet.

Under the Cover

I often wonder how you stand it, Miss Nicole? But we shall have to try and see more company this winter, for we are to have a girl staying with us. No, not a relative exactly: Her name is Althea Gort. The name seemed vaguely familiar. She must have seen it in the papers. And how is little Alastair? He evidently likes school. We shall have a swaggering young man coming home at Christmas. I feel we've lost our little boy already.

Heggie, noting with disgust that Mrs. Lambert was preparing to depart, 'the queer wee fellow he was with his big overcoat and his wee white face! My heart was sore for him many a time. Do you ever see Mrs. Heggie, recounting to an inattentive daughter the events of the afternoon, said: Just as I said "D'you ever hear from Mrs. As large as life with a Persian-lamb coat and ospreys in her hat! You could have knocked me down with a feather, and I'm sure it was as big a surprise to Lady Jane, but she got up, quite kind, you know, but rather stately and, "Mrs.

Innes," she said, "how kind of you to call! Innes, once Miss Janet Symington of Ravenscraig, explained that she had had to come to Kirkmeikle for the afternoon in order to see about something the tenants wanted. Tenants are never satisfied, something is always breaking; and if you let to a delicate, idle man it's the limit, for he has nothing to do but find flaws and write to the owner. I shouldn't answer if I were you. Let him go and find a plumber himself. I like to look into things myself and give my own orders.

I'm a practical woman, as my husband often tells me. He's a very busy man and much sought after for public meetings. I'm sure you must often see his name in The Scotsman. He's interested in all good work. The elder one, Agnes, insisted on learning typing and shorthand, and has got a very good post in London as a secretary, and Jessie persuaded her father to let her go in for singing, and she is studying in London too. It isn't as if they needed to do anything; they've a good home and a most indulgent father, and I'm sure I'd be pleased enough to take them about, but they had the impudence to tell me that Edinburgh was a back number.

What girls are coming to I don't know. Said they couldn't stand the people that came about the house--their father's friends, mind you, and mine! We try to keep an eye on them as well as we can. We go to London for a week every little while to see them in their flat, and urge them to let us meet their friends, but' Mrs. Innes shook her head, and Nicole, much interested, asked what the friends were like.

The Day of Small Things: A Novel by Vicki Lane

They're not solid, if you know what I mean. Journalists and actors and artists--those kind of people. Not people Samuel has anything in common with. No church connection, you know. I live in dread of hearing that Agnes has got engaged to one of them. That would be a blow to her father, for he's still hoping she'll settle in Edinburgh. Innes dropped her voice and Mrs. Heggie leant forward, her eyes round with interest. But he sounds happy, and that is all that matters. We sent him to Evelyn's because I have a small nephew there, a friend of his, and that made it easier for him.

D'you not think it's a pity to bring him up like that? He'll have to work for his living, remember. Lady Jane looked thoughtfully at her visitor for a second or two without speaking, then rose to say good-bye to Mrs. Lambert and the reluctant Mrs. I had hoped you would stay for tea Well, it's very pleasant to be back again.

Thank you for coming. After a few minutes Mrs. Innes also rose to go, refusing tea, and Nicole went with her downstairs. Lambert and everything just the same. And the leaves falling That's how I always think of Kirkmeikle. It gives me a queer feeling somehow My husband wants me to go out with him to-night to something or other. He's meeting me at the Waverley, and we'll have our dinner at the hotel Grill.

Innes said in her matter-of-fact voice. How d'you like my coat? Yes, a birthday present from my man! Nicole stood in the hall when the door shut behind her visitor. Kirkmeikle in October with the leaves falling! That was how she thought of it too It was in an autumn gale that she had first met Simon Beckett; he and The Bat on the rocks watching the waves!

Nicole made no effort to stage-manage Althea Gort's first sight of the Harbour House, as she had so carefully done for her mother. She cared little what the girl thought of the house and its inhabitants, in fact she harboured a secret ashamed hope that she would hate it at sight and leave at the first opportunity. Nicole meant to do her best for Althea, she was their guest and as such must have every consideration.

She had herself seen to it that the white upper chamber looking across the sea had been made to look as attractive as possible. But she was honestly puzzled as to what they were to do with the girl. She was eighteen, or was it nineteen? Almost a decade younger than herself. At that age her life had been overshadowed by the War, but this child probably lived for pleasure. Lights, crowds, dance-music, magic of heat and sound, cocktails, lipstick, clothes constantly renewed--those probably made up the sum of her enjoyment. What would she do with the decorous round of the Harbour House?

Of course they must get other boys and girls to play with her--Nicole smiled to find herself forced into the position of maiden aunt! The Erskines were considered Bright Young People in Kirkmeikle, though probably they would fall far short in this London girl's eyes.

The Day of Small Things

They were older than Althea, more her own age, she remembered. Lady Fenton would play with her; she liked to go about with very young girls and be kittenish; and, anyway, she concluded, if Althea were bored she didn't need to stay. You're such an optimist, Mums--But I hope it will be all right. As you say, the worst will be over when we get the greetings said. How I hate strangers coming! All right, old man, we'll go for a run along the sands Must I meet her, Mums?

I'll tell you what, I'll order a closed car and send Harris. Go yourself in the little car, it would be so much more friendly! The luggage can be sent down later. The child will feel strange perhaps There was only one passenger from the train that could be the expected guest, and Nicole went up to a tall young girl with a fur coat over her arm and a dressing-bag at her feet, and said: A porter will bring down your luggage if you'll see if it's all there, and I have my small car here. Jump in, will you, Althea, and put that rug round you. I expect you find it pretty cold here.

What sort of journey had you? Lady Jane was waiting in the hall to kiss and welcome her guest, and they went at once upstairs for tea. Nicole took stock of the girl as she made tea and her mother made conversation, and was amused to find that she was almost exactly as she had pictured her. Very tall, as so many girls are now, she had long slim legs, a small pointed face with very dark blue eyes; a golden-brown curl on each cheek, a string of pearls, ear-rings, a good deal of make-up. She spoke in a quick, almost breathless, way, and her voice was pleasant.

She had taken off her tweed coat, and sat in a fawn jumper suit, in a chintz chair with 'lugs,' her legs stretched out before her, answering Lady Jane's questions. She's only gone to bed for safety. I expect she's up to-day and preparing to go off to Egypt now that she's got me shunted. Will you have your tea there, or sit in at the table? Anyway, make a meal of your tea as we say in our hearty country way This is your first visit to Scotland, isn't it? No, I'm not going to ask you what you think of it.

Do take jam with your muffin. I spent the morning sight-seeing. The friend I travelled with wanted to see the Memorial. It's pretty good, I thought. And the cold blue windows seem to me so right, all of a piece with the cold grey city and the cold blue Firth.

Althea turned to look out of the window. Althea took another muffin. Yes, seas are very confusing. I remember, coming home from India the Captain asked another girl and myself what sea we were navigating at the moment. I guessed the Persian Gulf, and my friend said confidently, "The Baltic. Lady Jane took up the burden of the conversation. She had a way, when things were at all difficult, of talking gently on, not waiting for an answer, not seeming to expect interest, and Nicole enjoyed her tea in grateful silence, merely throwing in a response now and then. Althea ate very fast for about ten minutes, drank three cups of tea in quick succession, and then, not waiting to be offered cigarettes, she produced her own case and a very long holder, and changing from the big arm-chair into Lady Jane's own low chair, she lay back in great ease.

Effie removed the tea-things, and Lady Jane sat down near a light with her embroidery. Nicole knelt on a window-seat, watching the tide creep in. She turned her wrist to the light. I needn't stir for an age. I think I'll have a sleep!

The Day Of Small Things

This fire's so jolly warm. As she addressed an envelope she told herself, with rather grim amusement, that so long as the visitor stayed she would probably be a better correspondent than ever she had been. Writing letters and doing embroidery seemed the only way of occupying the time while these long shapely legs were stretched before the fire, and this insolent child lay and blew smoke rings. Impossible to settle down to read with such a disturbing element in the house.

Already the peaceful atmosphere was gone. Even her mother had a dispossessed air as she sat pulling the thread through the stuff pensively, like a queen in exile. I'm afraid she will find this quiet place rather dull She wondered if Vera and Althea would get on well together. Vera was a hearty creature, very keen on hunting, proficient at all games, a tireless dancer, and ready always to be amused and interested. Well, that was something , anyway, for Althea to do, and they were lunching the next day at Knebworth--Mrs.

Heggie and Althea, that would be diverting! Quite a giddy whirl! But Althea was hardly the sort of girl to be interested in strangers, and she probably hadn't the manners to hide her boredom. Well, it couldn't be helped. Her mother had brought the girl here. On her head was the success or failure of the plan.

She took up another sheet of paper and began a letter to Jean Douglas, one of the Rutherfurds' oldest friends on the Borders, and interested in everything that happened to Nicole and her mother. At the moment she was shut up at her home, Kingshouse, with a husband suffering from sciatica, and letters were doubly welcome. It was very quiet in the pretty room: Nicole wrote, her mother stitched and stitched, while her thoughts wove other patterns. Althea, broad awake--her dose had been little more than a pretence--watched the scene through half-shut eyes. Later, she came down to dinner such a bizarre figure that Effie, who was young and unsophisticated, forgot all she had been taught about never appearing to look at any one, nor listening to the conversation, and frankly stared.

The question which interested her was, would that brilliant red come off when the young lady drank, or was it water-proof, wine-proof, and coffee-proof? She had been helping Harris to unpack for Miss Gort, and never had she seen such clothes, so many aids to the toilet. She felt vaguely elated to be in the same house as such a strange and beautiful lady.

When they returned to the drawing-room, Althea went to the piano, and without being asked, sat down and began to play scraps of one thing and another, from Chopin to the songs from the latest revue.

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Lady Jane and her daughter had perforce to listen: After Nicole had gone up with their guest to see that she had everything she wanted, she came back to the drawing-room and looked reproachfully at her mother. Nicole's letter, written from the Harbour House on the night of the arrival of Althea Gort to her friend Jean Douglas, made that lady laugh as she read it.

Douglas was frankly middle-aged, but very slim and straight and well-dressed. She wore her grey hair rolled back in a fashion of her own from her small, high-coloured face: He was a large man with a round red face, an overwhelming admiration for his sprightly wife which he did his best to conceal, and a trick of taking sciatica which exasperated the said wife beyond measure.

A good husband when well and able to be out of doors most of the time, she admitted that, but cooped up in the house he was a nuisance, for he hated cards, read nothing but newspapers and The Field , and did nothing but groan and mope. At present he was recovering from a bout and was in a complaisant mood. She's gone and asked for an indefinite visit a girl who is a niece of her sister-in-law--no relation at all of her own, evidently a brat of a thing, and poor Nicole has got to entertain her as best she can. Of course I quite see Lady Jane's point. Alastair, who was Nicole's care, has gone to school: I dare say it will work out all right, but the picture Nicole draws of her mother and herself dispossessed by this young cuckoo is rather funny.

As I've said before, she's an angel that woman. She can't bear every one not to get a chance. She may make something of this Gort girl. She can't be more than eighteen or nineteen I knew her mother, a heartless, lovely minx. The sister Blanche, Lady Elliston, Jane's sister-in-law, is quite harmless, if silly.

This girl could inherit nothing good from her father except a pleasant manner, which she seems to have avoided, if Nicole's first impressions are right. Tom Douglas grunted agreement In , it would be. Good man at polo: Aren't my boots thick enough? I wonder you don't want me to put a plaid round my shoulders and carry a hot-water bag. Tom Douglas's face got apoplectic. Sciatica's a thing any one might have.

The strongest suffer from it--From the way you speak one would think it was a sign of weakness. You don't really think you've been a pleasant companion for the last fortnight, do you? He looked so like a large sulky boy as he stood there, that his wife could only laugh and, catching the lapels of his old tweed coat, kiss his aggrieved red face. Go away out, then, as long as the sun shines, but don't stand talking to Daniel in the stable-yard. I'll come out and look for you if you are too long. Alison Lockhart's coming to luncheon. She rang up last night and asked if she might come to-day.

She says she's coming to get all the news of the countryside! I'll be back in lots of time. I'm just going to take a look round. When you've been shut up in the house as long as I have there's a lot wants seeing to Kingshouse was looking rather beautiful that pale, windy, autumn day. It stood on the banks of Tweed, a plain Georgian house, with wide lawns sloping up to a beech-wood which, in early spring, was a drift of snowdrops. Inside were comfortable rooms, well lighted, well warmed, full of solid Victorian furniture; for Jean Douglas clung to the Victorian age, insisting that in it she found all the virtues.

The round table that stood in her own sitting-room held Jane Austen and Trollope and Hardy as the daily bread of her reading: Douglas and Foulis's box supplied what she wanted of the literature of the day, but as she found little to admire in the modern novel, she confined herself chiefly to biography and travel.

Once she said to Nicole about a much-praised and widely read modern masterpiece: I'd have hated to see it near my Bible. She was very good friends with herself, and never minded being alone, but she was keenly interested in her neighbours. A childless woman, she grudged no trouble where it was a question of giving children pleasure. The Kingshouse Christmas party had been a landmark to the young Rutherfurds, and to many others. She found something to be amused at in almost every situation in which she found herself, indeed, even on the most solemn occasions there was apt to be a suppressed twinkle in her eyes.

The twinkle was there this morning as she watched from the window her husband set off for his walk. He had started as if to go to the garden, but she suspected he would branch off to the stable-yard and pass the time of day with Daniel. Daniel had been coachman to the Douglases for many years, and now, when motors had taken the place of horses, he was a sort of adviser-in-general to the whole household. No one quite knew what his job was supposed to be, he did a bit of everybody else's: He was now sixty-five, and fifty of those years had been spent at Kingshouse.

He could not imagine life away from that quiet place beside the Water of Tweed. Unmarried, he lived alone in a cottage, which he kept as neat and trig as any on the place. He was great friends with Mrs. Fraser, the cook Mrs. He appreciated her as a cook, admired her as a woman, but distrusted her as a wife. He had gone his own way so long that the thought of being tied was insupportable. Servants stayed long at Kingshouse, indeed they were seldom removed except by marriage or death. Douglas's own maid had become something of a tyrant, if an affectionate and loyal one.

Her mistress often said she trembled before Ellen, and not without reason. The whole household was an immense amusement to Alison Lockhart, the expected luncheon guest. On her return from her frequent wanderings she always reported herself first at Kingshouse. Change and decay are everywhere--I found a perfect battalion of grey hairs this morning, and a front tooth is showing signs of having done with me--but you and Tom never get a bit older, two fresh young folk Lawson opens the door for me as he has done frequently for the past thirty years--what a blessing not to see a different face every time you go to a friend's house!

Fraser goes on making the same delicious pastry and cakes that she made when I was a child Yes, I know it will spoil the flavour of the coffee, but better that than you should hurt Mrs. I know it of old: Tell me, how is Ellen? Is she as masterful as ever? I wanted to put on a new dress which has just arrived, that you might pronounce on it, but she wouldn't hear of it and forced me into this. Declares the new one must be kept for a party! Douglas turned to her guest. Miss Lockhart ate the candy-sugar in her spoon though she did not take it in her coffee, she liked some to sup and said: My dear, you ask too much.

I roam the world in search of amusement with no success, and come back to find it by Tweedside. Tell me what's been happening to every one. Remember, I've heard no news for months. Jean Douglas nibbled a salted almond. Tilly Kilpatrick was very much in evidence at Games and Gatherings--you know, reading left to right. Tom and I inadvertently got in once, but they put "In this group appear Tom was also once mentioned as "the genial host," which pleased him very much. Oh yes, a boy. All things are added unto that girl I mean to go and call there this afternoon.

I haven't been for ages. To tell the truth I never cared for Barbara. Have the Rutherfurds been back lately? They were all there for the christening. Jackson from Glasgow in great form. I will say this, Barbara behaves very nicely to her mother-in-law, and it can't always be easy. Nor is it easy for Mrs. Jackson, she must see many things that she doesn't approve of. Several times I know, she was biting back remarks that would have given offence; she looked at me as much as to say: