Faster! Faster! by E. M. Delafield Page B

concerning a bath-towel, once lost and now found.
    As she hurried back to her work, Mrs Peel rustled through the hall.
    â€œDarling, you’re doing too much. I can see it. You’ve no idea how over-strained you look, and it’s
most
unbecoming,” said Mrs Peel impressively. “I wish you’d have a look at these patterns and tell me what you think. It’s for the new cretonne covers in my flat.”
    They took the patterns to the window. Claudia looked at them carefully and without hurry. It was Mrs Peel who broke into their discussion a good many times in order to say that Claudia was toobusy to attend to it now, and that she had better get back to her desk, and why, oh why, wasn’t she out in the fresh air giving herself a good rest?
    â€œIt’s all right, Mother,” said Claudia, fourteen times.
    At last she was at work again, acutely aware of backache, eye-strain, and nervous exasperation. She was aware also, although much less consciously, of having lived up to her own ideal of a woman achieving, by sheer force of will, the next-to-impossible.
    She heard the car drive up to the door, and as she worked she smiled.
    It would be lovely for the children, by the sea.
    Maurice came in and stood beside her, a worried, wistful expression on his small face.
    â€œAre you just off, darling?”
    â€œAs soon as the sandwiches are ready. Sylvia’s doing them. Have you got a
lot
to do, Mother?”
    â€œNot so terribly much,” said Claudia cheerfully. “I shall be through by one o’clock, and this afternoon I’ll come down and bathe.”
    â€œYou won’t be too tired?”
    â€œOh no,” said Claudia lightly. “You know I’m hardly ever tired.”
    Maurice’s anxious look seemed to deepen, rather than relax, at this optimistic pronouncement.
    â€œI wish you didn’t have to work so very hard. It seems such a shame.”
    â€œBut you know, Maurice, nearly everybody has to work. I don’t mind it a bit, because it’s for all of you. If I can earn money it all helps to educate you and Taffy and Sylvia, and then when you’reolder you’ll work for yourselves.”
    â€œAnd for you,” said Maurice.
    She kissed his little plain, freckled face.
    â€œThank you, darling.”
    The horn of the car was sounded vigorously from without.
    â€œI suppose the girls are ready at last,” Maurice observed morosely. “I hope all your typing will get done quickly, and not be too difficult.”
    He walked away very deliberately, still unsmiling.
    It was Claudia who smiled, tenderly and proudly.
    Ten minutes later the telephone-bell rang again.
    She went to the door.
    â€œAll right, dear!” called Mrs Peel’s voice, shrilly and nervously. “I’ll see what it is. Hallo, hallo,
hallo
!” There was a pause, fraught with agitation, for Mrs Peel was neither calm nor collected when telephoning.
    â€œClau-dia!”
    â€œAll right, Mother.”
    â€œNo, don’t come, darling. No, it’s all right, I was only speaking to my—I’m afraid I can’t hear you. I think there’s something wrong with the telephone——”
    â€œI’ll take it, Mother.”
    â€œIt’s all right, dear. You go back to your writing. I think it’s someone who wants … Would you please tell me who’s speaking? I can’t quite hear. Harvey, or Jarvey?”
    â€œJarvey the butcher,” said Claudia. “Give it to me.”
    â€œThe line is
very
bad to-day,” said Mrs Peelseverely. “It might equally well have been Harvey.”
    With an air of resentment, she handed the receiver to Claudia.
    â€œYou know, darling, it isn’t
right
that you should have to do this kind of thing on the top of all your other jobs. You’re doing too much, and sooner or later you’ll suffer for it. You may not think so now, but the day will come.”
    These sentiments