Screenland (Nov 1941-Apr 1942)

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Cost but a trifle. |Ajy I / Get a box today! NEW £uS&i-&& "People who've got all they want never understand how much the smallest thing means to them who haven't," Ellen began quietly enough. Then her rage crept into her voice and she no longer thought of what she was saying. "My sisters and I haven't any gentlemen to send us money. Don't you ever feel you have a responsibility for those less fortunate than you? Every penny we've ever had I've had to work for, every penny. But at least we've our self-respect." "How dare you criticize my life?" Miss Fiske turned on her furiously. "You've deliberately connived to foist your wretched brood on me and bleed me white and now that I've seen through your little scheme you have the insolence to abuse me. Take a month's wages and go!" It was then that wild thought came to Ellen, standing there looking at her, that thought that seemed to grow less wild during the night, that became a certainty in the morning. Strange, how strong she felt now, how cunning as she made her plans, sending for Bates to take her sisters for a drive, a long drive that would not bring them home before night, sending Lucy off for the day, going up to Miss Fiske's room with her breakfast tray fixed with all the things she liked best, cajoling he'r, playing on her sympathy, winning her confidence again when she told her she had sent her sisters away. Miss Fiske couldn't restrain her happiness then, going down to the cellar and saying she would bring up a bottle of champagne to celebrate. Ellen was glad she said that because it made her hate her. And she had to hate Miss Fiske to carry out the thing she knew she had to do. That day, that horrible day! The two of them alone together and Miss Fiske being so gay now, so bubbling over with fun and good humor. And Ellen smiling too, covering the rage, the hate with her smile, going silently around the house locking the great doors one by one, locking out the world so that there would be only the two of them, alone in that big empty house. She steeled herself as Miss Fiske sat down at the piano running over the music of the "Mikado," the new operetta which had taken London by storm. It was so long since she had sat down at the piano and sung like that, not since Emily and Louisa had been there. But before she had loved doing it, lifting her head archly, rolling her eyes as she sang in her old. cracked voice. She was singing "Tit-Willow" now. As long as she lived Ellen would hear her singing "Tit-Willow." "Though I probably shall not exclaim 3. S I ell C Oh, Willow Tit-Willow, Tit-Willow." _ But she did exclaim just that. For it was as she was singing the word that Ellen crept down the stairs behind her, though she did not look like Ellen then. The family madness was there in her eyes so that they shone like cat's eyes in the darkening light of the room. She crept slowly, relentlessly until she reached the bottom step, then she hurled herself forward and her young hands went grimly around the other's throat, so that the word became first a gasp and then a gurgle. The red wig went hurtling to the floor and still Ellen held on, held on while the string of pearls around the withered old throat snapped and rattled to the floor, rolling around her feet as she stood there. Everything was in order when Emily and Louisa came home, prattling about their day's fun. The fire was laid and the candle was burning before the shrine of the Virgin, just as it did when Miss Fiske who was a devout Catholic lit it every evening. Ellen felt she had to light that candle even if she had been brought up in a strict Protestant household and knew how Emily hated it. But Emily didn't even notice it that night. Both she and Louisa were so happy because Ellen had told them now there would be just Lucy and the three of them together always ; that she had bought the house from her employer but they must never mention that to anyone. She brought out the old Bible that had been their father's and made them swear on it. She was safe, she thought, then. Absolutely safe. Here on this desolate marshland she was safe and no one would ever know. There couldn't have been a better place anywhere to hold a secret like hers. Their only neighbors were the nuns at the Priory a short distance away, but they were gentle, unsuspicious souls, who wouldn't question when she told them their friend and benefactress Miss Fiske had been called away on a long journey. And Decoy Farm, the only other house on the Estuary, was a good two miles away. Yes, she was safe. The room showed nothing. Even the old bake oven looked exactly the same, with its heavy door securely padlocked, just as it had always been. Ellen was so sure that no one knew that Miss Fiske had kept her valuables hidden there. But she was wrong about that. For someone else did know, and Ellen would have been, horrified if she Shad guessed that that other person was her worthless nephew Albert. Miss Fiske had kept that secret well. Albert had been so cajoling that day he had come, just after Ellen had left for that fateful visit to London, and he was so handsome in that swaggering way of his and with that unscrupulous, obvious charm he knew so well how to use. It had been easy for Albert to get around Miss Fiske, praising her voice, for she had been singing when he barged into the room, and telling her things no man had told her for all these long years now. And when he had looked so worried and told her he needed money so badly, she had giggled and gone to the bake oven and unlocked it and raked out the strong box where she kept her money and given him three pound notes. Albert's hands had closed greedily around them as he asked her not to tell Ellen he had been there. But he was coming back, he told himself. That bake oven, with all its riches, he was coining back to it! He came back sooner than he had thought he would and Ellen's eyes narrowed when she saw him standing there at the door, his clothes dripping from the rain that had been falling all day. She had never liked this lad who, though he called himself her nephew, was really only a distant connection of the family. She had been feeling so relieved too, just before he came, for Sister Theresa had come over from the Priory to borrow a can of oil and had not seemed to think it was strange at all that Miss Fiske had suddenly decided to take a trip. She had even given Ellen the rent for the three-acre field the Priory rented from Miss Fiske and taken it quite for granted that Ellen would be looking after her employer's affairs while she was away. And then there had been that quick knock on the door and Albert stood there. "Don't stand there dripping all over my best rug!" Ellen said tartly after that first exclamation. "Get along to the kitchen fire with your wet things." But it didn"t make any difference that she spoke like that. Louisa was like a child dancing around Albert, clapping her hands in glee, and even Emily lost her dourness. They loved the excitement of his coming, for things had been dreary of late with Ellen acting so depressed all the time. Emily ran upstairs for dry clothes for him and came down with Miss Fiske's SCREENLAND D?Scholls Zinopads