Indigo Christmas by Jeanne Dams Page A

don’t know, but I’m tired, too. I’m an old woman, and now all the excitement’s over, I need to put my feet up. Mrs. Murphy’s gone home, too. I gave her one of the umbrellas in the hall. I knew you wouldn’t mind. She’ll be back this evening, she said, with some things for the baby. I think she plans to take them both, Norah and the wee one, to her house until Norah’s on her feet again. For a week or so, though, I think she’d be glad—Mrs. Murphy would, I mean—of an invitation to stay here and cosset Norah and the baby.”
    Hilda wasn’t paying attention. “She held my hand, Aunt Molly,” she said dreamily. “Well, my finger. Her hand is so little that was all she could get it around, but she held on so tight!”
    â€œYes, dear. All babies do that. Don’t you remember your young sisters and brother, when they were born?”
    â€œOh. Well—I suppose—”
    â€œShe’s a dear little thing, I admit. And she’s going to be pretty. I’ll wager that hair will turn red like her mother’s. She has a redhead’s skin.”
    Hilda giggled. “She has a redskin’s skin!”
    â€œThat will pass in a few days. It will be very fair, just you wait. now, dear, you need some rest, too. You’ve had little sleep and a busy morning. Time enough to worry yourself with other things when you’re fresh.”
    Other things. Hilda came down to earth with a bump. “Oh! I had forgotten! Sean—the dead man—the billfold—Aunt Molly, the firemen say they don’t see how the fire could have been an accident.”
    â€œTell me.”
    Hilda explained.
    Molly frowned. “Then it sounds like arson. But I can’t see for what purpose.”
    â€œRobbery? Someone stole Mr. Jenkins’s billfold and then set the barn on fire so he could not accuse the thief?”
    â€œYou’re tired, my dear, and not thinking properly. They say Mr. Jenkins was inebriated, probably to the point of unconsciousness. It would have been easy for anyone to take his billfold and simply leave. Mr. Jenkins would wake in the morning with an aching head and no money. There was no need to burn down the barn, and no apparent purpose.”
    Hilda thought about it and then shook her head. “You are right, Aunt Molly. There is no sense in it. But there is one thing certain. Sean could not have set the barn on fire. He was working with the other men until they all saw the smoke.”
    â€œTrue. That’s important. But, child—he still could have stolen the money.”
    Hilda bowed her head. To that argument she still had no rebuttal. She sighed and stood. “We need rest, all of us. Mrs. O’Rourke and Eileen, too. They were up nearly all night. I will go to the kitchen and tell them that a cold meal will do for tonight, and that they must take a nap.”
    â€œYou’ll need to be very firm. Cook’s on the rampage.”
    â€œI will be firm.” Hilda tossed her head. “Good-bye, Aunt Molly, and thank you. You have been so good. I do not think I could have managed about Norah and the baby without you. I will ask Mr. O’Rourke to bring the carriage for you.”
    Molly kissed her on the cheek. “You’re learning, my dear, learning to deal with servants, and to deal with household crises. You’ve always had sense, and that’s mostly what’s needed. Good luck with Mrs. O’Rourke.” She hesitated in the act of putting on her hat. “You’ll be all right, will you? With no one to help? Norah and the baby are perfectly all right, but Norah is very tired, and will not be able…”
    â€œI have three younger sisters, and Erik. I was nearly ten when Erik was born. I know how to look after babies. And there is Sean. He has younger brothers and sisters, too. Do not worry.” Hilda pulled the bell rope and Eileen hurried into the room, looking a bit