Secrets on 26th Street Read Online Free Page B

of finer fabric than Mum’s Sunday blouse.
    â€œWould you put these away for me, love?” Bea handed Susan the folded linens.
    Susan fingered the smooth, silky fabric. “What are they for?”
    â€œTo sleep on,” Bea said, smiling. “I know they’re rather fancy, but they were my mother’s, and I couldn’t bear to leave them behind.”
    Susan tried to imagine lying between such sheets. “Your mother slept on these?”
    â€œWhen she was very young. Her family was wealthy once, but the fortune’s gone now.” Bea reached into the trunk and took out a stack of handkerchiefs.
    â€œTell me about your schoolwork, Susan.”
    Susan told Bea about her English class. “We have to write an essay on a theme from the novel the teacher chose for us. Most of the kids grumbled about it, but I like writing—and reading, too—so it suits me fine.” She sighed. “I just don’t know when I’m going to have time to read the book. It’s really long, and …” She hesitated, thinking how Bea’s arrival had kept her from starting the novel. “Well, I have to help Mum out a lot around here.”
    Bea’s voice held understanding. “Not much time to do the things you enjoy, is there?”
    Susan shook her head. “But I don’t mind helping, most of the time. Mum’s got enough to worry about as it is.” Susan stroked the linens once more, then slid them into a drawer in the dresser.
    â€œI’m sure your mum appreciates your help, Susan, as I do.” Bea handed Susan a couple of nightgowns to put away. “I love reading, too. It was painful leaving most of my books behind—like parting with family. I nearly cried. What book do you have to read for your English class?”
    â€œIt’s called Middlemarch . My teacher said she thought I would particularly enjoy it. I’ve never heard of the author, though. George Eliot, or something like that.”
    Bea’s face lit up. “George Eliot is one of my favorite authors. And I love Middlemarch . It’s one of the few books I chose to bring. I’ve read it many times, and each time I find something I’ve never noticed before. There are a couple of passages I’d like to show you. It’s here in the trunk somewhere, I know. We’ll find it.”
    Bea was so lively and seemed so genuinely interested in her that Susan soon found herself chatting easily. While they talked, Bea continued to hand Susan more belongings from her trunk to put away. There were skirts and blouses, jackets, a cape, and beautiful underclothes trimmed with lace—camisoles, corsets, stockings. And there were several hats. Mum had only one, the wide-brimmed straw hat Dad had given her for Easter two years ago. Mum always hung it on a hook on the wall, like she did with her dresses—the three or four that she had. But there weren’t enough hooks on Mum’s walls for the hats and clothes Bea had told Susan to pile on the bed.
    â€œOh dear,” Bea said, as she apparently came to the same conclusion. “What was I thinking, bringing all these things? I suppose they’ll have to go back in the trunk once we’re done.”
    Bea’s matter-of-fact attitude toward her beautiful clothes perplexed Susan. Mum fussed so over the few dresses she had—hanging them neatly, ironing and mending—and she taught Helen and Susan to do the same. They all had to make clothes last as long as possible.
    Bea’s manner changed, however, as she lifted out of the trunk a rectangular package tied in brown paper. She loosened the strings gently, then lifted away the paper to reveal a framed photograph. Bea looked at the photograph intently for a moment, then ran the fingers of one hand along the frame’s edge.
    Curious, Susan couldn’t keep from leaning over Bea’s shoulder. Bea glanced up, then smiled at Susan and handed her the