(11/13) Celebrations at Thrush Green Read Online Free Page B
Author: Miss Read
Tags: Fiction, England, Country Life, Country Life - England
until I get home again. I'm just off to see Miss Harmer.'
Albert's glum countenance lightened a little. He liked old Dotty! 'Ah!' said Albert, nodding.
Winnie moved on, leaving Albert still standing equidistant between the church and the Two Pheasants.
Which, wondered Winnie, taking the path through the fields, would Albert visit first?
She found Dotty at her kitchen table, not making chutney, jam or bottling some fearsome fungi she had come across on her travels, but plying a pen.
She rose to greet Winnie affectionately. 'Just in time,' she cried. 'How do you spell "benefited"? One "t" or two?'
'You've got me there,' confessed Winnie. 'I know if I'm not asked, but the same awful doubt arises as when one is asked if it's the sixteenth or seventeenth of the month. I think it must be one "t".'
'Good!' said Dotty. 'I'm just describing my father's gastroenteritis.'
She held up an exercise book which had a shiny mottled cover. It brought back memories to Winnie of a science exercise book she had used as a schoolgirl. She could even recall the laboriously drawn illustration of a copper ball suspended over a tripod. Something to do with heat expansion, she remembered, through the mists of time.
'But what are you doing, Dotty?' she asked.
'I'm writing a biography of my father. So many people have memories of him, and I thought it would be so nice to have these recollections recorded. After all, he made a deep impression on his pupils.'
Physical as well as mental, thought Winnie, but forbore to comment.
'And I was just explaining how his gastroenteritis benefited from a draught of parsley and woundwort I used to make for him to drink last thing at night. As a matter of fact, I was wondering if I should include the recipe. Some readers might be grateful, don't you think?'
'It would certainly fill up half a page,' agreed Winnie diplomatically. 'You're bound to need a lot of material for a full-scale biography.'
'Oh, I don't envisage a really long book! Not Charles Dickens' length. Something more in the way of a vignette. A slim volume, you know. Which publisher, do you think, should have it? It might well be a bestseller. Several people have said they will buy a copy, and there are hundreds of libraries who will want copies, I'm sure.'
She patted the mottled cover lovingly as if it were one of her many pets.
'Of course, I could do a separate cookery book. I've dozens of recipes, and the interest in herbs and their beneficial properties has increased enormously lately.'
'Quite an idea,' said Winnie.
'And I could have something in hand for the publishers when they had got out the first book. I believe that most writers have another book waiting to follow on the first.' Dotty's eyes were bright with enthusiasm behind her spectacles.
Winnie changed the subject. 'There is an interesting article about Gerard the herbalist in this magazine,' she said, putting it on the table, 'and some splendid photographs of Blenheim. I thought you'd be interested.'
'Harold and Isobel took me there a month or two ago,' said Dotty. 'Fascinating place, though I found the architecture somewhat grandiose. But have you heard Harold's news about Nathaniel Patten?'
'No. Tell me more.'
'Betty Bell told me. I don't know what I'd do without Betty to keep me in touch.'
Betty Bell was the exuberant woman who did her best to keep Dotty's domestic conditions in order. She also worked at the Shoosmiths' and was a source of much local information.
'Someone has found some letters written by Nathaniel, and sent word about them to Charles, and he wants Harold to see them.'
'How exciting!'
'Harold can't wait to read them. Betty says he's like a cat on hot bricks. Such a cruel expression if you dwell on it. I wonder why some people are so vindictive towards cats? That dreadful phrase about more ways of killing them than by choking them with cream, for instance. So sadistic!'
'Well, I'm delighted for Harold's sake,' said Winnie briskly.
She lifted the
Albert's glum countenance lightened a little. He liked old Dotty! 'Ah!' said Albert, nodding.
Winnie moved on, leaving Albert still standing equidistant between the church and the Two Pheasants.
Which, wondered Winnie, taking the path through the fields, would Albert visit first?
She found Dotty at her kitchen table, not making chutney, jam or bottling some fearsome fungi she had come across on her travels, but plying a pen.
She rose to greet Winnie affectionately. 'Just in time,' she cried. 'How do you spell "benefited"? One "t" or two?'
'You've got me there,' confessed Winnie. 'I know if I'm not asked, but the same awful doubt arises as when one is asked if it's the sixteenth or seventeenth of the month. I think it must be one "t".'
'Good!' said Dotty. 'I'm just describing my father's gastroenteritis.'
She held up an exercise book which had a shiny mottled cover. It brought back memories to Winnie of a science exercise book she had used as a schoolgirl. She could even recall the laboriously drawn illustration of a copper ball suspended over a tripod. Something to do with heat expansion, she remembered, through the mists of time.
'But what are you doing, Dotty?' she asked.
'I'm writing a biography of my father. So many people have memories of him, and I thought it would be so nice to have these recollections recorded. After all, he made a deep impression on his pupils.'
Physical as well as mental, thought Winnie, but forbore to comment.
'And I was just explaining how his gastroenteritis benefited from a draught of parsley and woundwort I used to make for him to drink last thing at night. As a matter of fact, I was wondering if I should include the recipe. Some readers might be grateful, don't you think?'
'It would certainly fill up half a page,' agreed Winnie diplomatically. 'You're bound to need a lot of material for a full-scale biography.'
'Oh, I don't envisage a really long book! Not Charles Dickens' length. Something more in the way of a vignette. A slim volume, you know. Which publisher, do you think, should have it? It might well be a bestseller. Several people have said they will buy a copy, and there are hundreds of libraries who will want copies, I'm sure.'
She patted the mottled cover lovingly as if it were one of her many pets.
'Of course, I could do a separate cookery book. I've dozens of recipes, and the interest in herbs and their beneficial properties has increased enormously lately.'
'Quite an idea,' said Winnie.
'And I could have something in hand for the publishers when they had got out the first book. I believe that most writers have another book waiting to follow on the first.' Dotty's eyes were bright with enthusiasm behind her spectacles.
Winnie changed the subject. 'There is an interesting article about Gerard the herbalist in this magazine,' she said, putting it on the table, 'and some splendid photographs of Blenheim. I thought you'd be interested.'
'Harold and Isobel took me there a month or two ago,' said Dotty. 'Fascinating place, though I found the architecture somewhat grandiose. But have you heard Harold's news about Nathaniel Patten?'
'No. Tell me more.'
'Betty Bell told me. I don't know what I'd do without Betty to keep me in touch.'
Betty Bell was the exuberant woman who did her best to keep Dotty's domestic conditions in order. She also worked at the Shoosmiths' and was a source of much local information.
'Someone has found some letters written by Nathaniel, and sent word about them to Charles, and he wants Harold to see them.'
'How exciting!'
'Harold can't wait to read them. Betty says he's like a cat on hot bricks. Such a cruel expression if you dwell on it. I wonder why some people are so vindictive towards cats? That dreadful phrase about more ways of killing them than by choking them with cream, for instance. So sadistic!'
'Well, I'm delighted for Harold's sake,' said Winnie briskly.
She lifted the
Readers choose
Jayne Fresina
Kate Maryon
Miles Owens
John Updike
Lesley Choyce
Alice Severin
Serena Simpson
Marc Pastor
Michael Alexander
Charisma Knight