(10/13) Friends at Thrush Green Read Online Free

bit of charring done if his wife's poorly,' observed Albert. 'Practically next door, ain't it?'
    Nelly surveyed him coldly.
    'I've got more than enough down The Fuchsia Bush,' she pointed out, mopping up the liver gravy with a piece of bread, 'but there's no reason why you shouldn't take on a bit of gardening at Miss Watson's. Lord knows you've plenty of time to spare, and it might keep you out of The Two Pheasants now and again.'
    She began to clear the table, bustling about the kitchen with renewed energy.
    Albert sat himself morosely in the wooden arm chair, and picked up the newspaper.
    'FIGHTING BREAKS OUT AGAIN ' said the headline.
    It seemed fair comment.

    On that same evening, across the green, Ella and her friend Dimity Henstock were busy packing pots of young geraniums into a cardboard box.
    'I don't care what people say,' declared Ella, through a haze of blue smoke rising from the dishevelled cigarette in the corner of her mouth, 'but I like scarlet geraniums better than any.'
    'Very cheerful,' agreed Dimity.
    'I've only lost two cuttings this year,' went on Ella, 'and they were some wishy-washy pink things Muriel Fuller gave me. These are much hardier. How many can you do with, Dim?'
    'Twelve would be fine. Fifteen if you can spare them.'
    'More than welcome. Glad to get 'em off the window sills. We'll put the box in the porch then Charles can pick 'em up tomorrow. I've got to go to the dentist, but remind Charles where the spare key is. I still put it under the flint with the hole in it by the front step.'
    'I should think all Thrush Green knows that hiding place,' commented Dimity as they settled themselves in the sitting-room.
    'Never thought of that,' said Ella. 'Not that I mind Thrush Green knowing, just the bad lots from elsewhere. Perhaps I should move it?'
    'I shouldn't bother. You'd probably forget yourself.'
    'True enough. By the way, I saw the Lovelock girls this morning. They get odder than ever.'
    She told Dimity the tale of those who were acceptable and unacceptable at the Lovelocks' establishment in the past.
    'Of course, they still live a century ago,' commented Dimity. 'All those occasional tables and whatnots, laden with silver. Who would bother with so much work these days, let along facing the strong possibility of burglars? It has happened, after all.'
    'Violet is about the only one now capable of sensible conversation,' commented Ella. 'It's my belief that Bertha and Ada are fast becoming gaga.'
    Dimity looked sad. 'Charles is of the same opinion. It's Bertha's behaviour that's perturbing him. She's taken to storing some of those silver knick-knacks in her bedroom, and insisting on some of the most valuable pieces of furniture being taken up there too. The drawing-room is fast being denuded.'
    'Good thing!' said Ella robustly. 'You couldn't move in there without knocking something to the ground. I should tell Charles not to worry on the Lovelocks' behalf. They've always been on the make, cadging bits and pieces from all and sundry. Come to think of it, I've not seen my Victorian sugar tongs since they came to tea in the winter. I bet they're somewhere in the Lovelocks' place.'
    'If that clock's right,' said Dimity, 'it's time I went. I've promised to call at Dotty's, and there's no getting away quickly when dear old Dotty gets going.'

    Dotty Harmer was an eccentric spinster who had lived alone in a cottage between Thrush Green and Lulling Woods for many years.
    Poor health and advancing age had made it necessary for her to have someone living with her, and she was very fortunate to have her sensible niece Connie and her husband Kit as companions.
    She still insisted on tending her garden and the innumerable animals she had acquired over the years, but Connie saw to it that she was clad in warm clothing and stout shoes when she ventured forth. In the old days, Dotty had been quite content to wander about at times in her dressing-gown and slippers, much to the dismay and censure of the local