The Matchmaker by Gibbons Stella

Author:Gibbons, Stella [Gibbons, Stella]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781448103355
Publisher: Random House UK
Published: 2011-10-31T04:00:00+00:00

1 Sylvia was mistaken; the owner was an elderly lady.

19

THEY WAITED A very long time, it seemed to the hungry Sylvia. The birds chirruped, the hidden pigs grunted as if they, at least, were eating their Sunday lunch, and Fabrio gazed intently through a gap in the nearest window curtain; he had caught a glint of gold in the darkness of the room. What could it be? Sylvia frowned down at some large sky-blue polyanthus and yellow wallflowers rising serenely out of a wilderness of weeds. The fineness of the flowers surprised her; she glanced round for further evidence of Mrs. Hoadley’s remark that “the old lady has got green fingers, anything will grow for her,” and saw a peony in luxuriant bud and a distant sheet of yellow flowers which she took to be wild daffodils, but there was no recognisable attempt at a garden.

They had been waiting perhaps ten minutes when a small figure in a long skirt, black jacket and flat chip hat came briskly round the corner of one of the huts, carrying a pail. It caught sight of them, and paused.

“What do ye want?” called old Mrs. Hoadley in a small voice soft with age, shading her eyes to look at them. “What are you up to?” The words “Girls and soldiers—no good, I’m sure,” followed, in a sufficiently loud, if absent, mutter, to cause Sylvia an angry blush.

“It’s me—Sylvia, Mrs. Hoadley,” she said, going forward, “and here’s Fabrio—from the farm, you know. You remember—you asked us over for the day.”

“Never did anything of de sort,” retorted Mrs. Hoadley, stooping her doll-like body to scrape the mud from her boots with a twig. “I like my Sundayses to myself, same as I do my weekdayses.”

“You did, Mrs. Hoadley,” protestingly, glancing at Fabrio, who was politely standing at attention. “We’ve got a chicken for you,” and she indicated the basket he held.

“I’m middlin’ sure I never did, but now you’re here you may as well come in. Dere’s no dinner but some cold pork, but you,” pointing a tiny brown finger with a hooked purple nail at Fabrio, “can go and pick us some wet-de-beds, and I’ve got potatoses, yes, we’ll manage. Here,” she held out her little arms in their rusty black sleeves for the chicken, which he, after a glance at Sylvia, handed to her. “Mr. Hoadley and me’ll enjoy dat for our supper.” Then she kicked against the door with her boot.

“Mr. Hoadley’s still abed with de papers, I expect,” she said, after a lengthy pause. “We’ll go round de back.”

The back proved to be hardly distinguishable from the front in its litter of yellow newspapers, shreds of rag, rusty tins, and shards of white or blue china in the young grass. The door of one shed stood open.

“Joseph, Joseph,” called Mrs. Hoadley briskly, stepping over the bricks which formed the rough threshold into a little room beyond, but to her soft ancient voice (its sound also muffled by the rags and newspapers

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.