Calamity Town Read Online Free Page B

because you’re the cause. Hermy, everything’s just perfect .’
    â€˜It’s nothing at all,’ murmured Hermione, pleased. ‘Just a little intimate dinner, Clarice.’
    â€˜I don’t like these doodads,’ growled the Judge, fingering his bow tie. ‘Well, Tabitha, and what are you sniffing about?’
    â€˜Comedian!’ said John F.’s sister, glaring at the old jurist. ‘I can’t imagine what Mr Smith must be thinking of us, Eli!’
    Judge Martin observed dryly that if Mr Smith thought less of him for being uncomfortable in doodads, then he thought less of Mr Smith. A crisis was averted by the appearance of Henry Clay Jackson announcing dinner. Henry Clay was the only trained butler in Wrightsville, and the ladies of the upper crust, by an enforced Communism, shared him and his rusty ‘buttlin’ suit.’ It was an unwritten law among them that Henry Clay was to be employed on ultra-special occasions only.
    â€˜Dinnuh,’ announced Henry Clay Jackson, ‘is heaby suhved!’
    Nora Wright appeared suddenly between the roast lambwreathed-in-mint-jelly-flowers and the pineapple mousse. For an instant the room was singing-still. Then Hermione quavered: ‘Why, Nora darling,’ and John F. said gladly: ‘Nora baby,’ through a mouthful of salted nuts, and Clarice Martin gasped: ‘Nora, how nice! ’ and the spell was broken.
    Ellery was the first man on his feet. Frank Lloyd was the last; the thick neck under his shaggy hair was the color of brick. Pat saved the day. ‘I must say this is a fine time to come down to dinner, Nora!’ she said briskly. ‘Why, we’ve finished Ludie’s best lamb. Mr Smith, Nora.’
    Nora offered him her hand. It felt as fragile and cold as a piece of porcelain. ‘Mother’s told me all about you,’ said Nora in a voice that sounded unused.
    â€˜And you’re disappointed. Naturally,’ smiled Ellery. He held out a chair.
    â€˜Oh, no! Hello, Judge, Mrs Martin. Aunt Tabitha…Doctor…Carter…’
    Frank Lloyd said, ‘Hullo, Nora,’ in gruff tones; he took the chair from Ellery’s hands neither rudely nor politely; he simply took it and held it back for Nora. She turned pink and sat down. Just then Henry Clay marched in with the magnificent mousse, molded in the shape of a book, and everybody began to talk.
    Nora Wright sat with her hands folded, palms up, as if exhausted; her colorless lips were twisted into a smile. Apparently she had dressed with great care, for her candy-striped dinner gown was fresh and perfectly draped, her nails impeccable, and her coiffure without a single stray wine-brown hair. Ellery glimpsed a sudden, rather appalling, vision of this slight bespectacled girl in her bedroom upstairs, fussing with her nails, fussing with her hair, fussing with her attractive gown…fussing, fussing, so that everything might be just so…fussing so long and so needlessly that she had been an hour late to dinner.
    And now that she had achieved perfection, now that she had made the supreme effort of coming downstairs, she seemed emptied, as if the effort had been too much and not entirely worthwhile. She listened to Ellery’s casual talk with a fixed smile, white face slightly lowered, not touching her mousse or demitasse, murmuring a monosyllable occasionally…but not as if she were bored, only as if she were weary beyond sensation.
    And then, as suddenly as she had come in, she said: ‘Excuse me, please,’ and rose. All conversation stopped again. Frank Lloyd jumped up and drew her chair back. He devoured her with a huge and clumsy hunger; she smiled at him, and at the others, and floated out…her step quickening as she approached the archway from the dining room to the foyer. Then she disappeared; and everyone began to talk at once and ask for more coffee.
    * * *
    Mr Queen was mentally sifting the