Sad Cypress by Agatha Christie Page B

alone—”
    Mrs. Bishop said stiffly:
    â€œAs you please, of course.”
    She went on:
    â€œThat daughter of Gerrard’s is down here. The funeral was yesterday. She’s staying with Nurse Hopkins. I did hear they were going up to the Lodge this morning.”
    Elinor nodded. She said:
    â€œYes, I asked Mary to come down and see to that. Major Somervell wants to get in as soon as possible.”
    â€œI see.”
    Elinor said:
    â€œWell, I must be getting on now. So glad to have seen you, Mrs. Bishop. I’ll remember about the secretaire and the chairs.”
    She shook hands and passed on.
    She went into the baker’s and bought a loaf of bread. Then she went into the dairy and bought half a pound of butter and some milk.
    Finally she went into the grocer’s.
    â€œI want some paste for sandwiches, please.”
    â€œCertainly, Miss Carlisle.” Mr. Abbott himself bustled forward, elbowing aside his junior apprentice.
    â€œWhat would you like? Salmon and shrimp? Turkey and tongue? Salmon and sardine? Ham and tongue?”
    He whipped down pot after pot and arrayed them on the counter.
    Elinor said with a faint smile:
    â€œIn spite of their names, I always think they taste much alike.”
    Mr. Abbott agreed instantly.
    â€œWell, perhaps they do, in a way. Yes, in a way. But, of course, they’re very tasty—very tasty.”
    Elinor said:
    â€œOne used to be rather afraid of eating fish pastes. There have been cases of ptomaine poisoning from them, haven’t there?”
    Mr. Abbot put on a horrified expression.
    â€œI can assure you this is an excellent brand— most reliable—we never have any complaints.”
    Elinor said:
    â€œI’ll have one of salmon and anchovy and one of salmon and shrimp. Thank you.”
    II
    Elinor Carlisle entered the grounds of Hunterbury by the back gate.
    It was a hot, clear summer’s day. There were sweetpeas in flower. Elinor passed close by a row of them. The undergardener, Horlick, who was remaining on to keep the place in order, greeted her respectfully.
    â€œGood morning, miss. I got your letter. You’ll find the side door open, miss. I’ve unfastened the shutters and opened most of the windows.”
    Elinor said:
    â€œThank you, Horlick.”
    As she moved on, the young man said nervously, his Adam’s apple jerking up and down in spasmodic fashion:
    â€œExcuse me, miss—”
    Elinor turned back. “Yes?”
    â€œIs it true that the house is sold? I mean, is it really settled?”
    â€œOh, yes!”
    Horlick said nervously:
    â€œI was wondering, miss, if you would say a word for me—to Major Somervell, I mean. He’ll be wanting gardeners. Maybe he’ll think I’m too young for head gardener, but I’ve worked under Mr. Stephens for four years now, and I reckon I know a tidyish bit, and I’ve kept things going fairly well since I’ve been here, single-handed.”
    Elinor said quickly:
    â€œOf course I will do all I can for you, Horlick. As a matter of fact, I intended to mention you to Major Somervell and tell him what a good gardener you are.”
    Horlick’s face grew dusky red.
    â€œThank you, miss. That’s very kind of you. You can understand it’s been a bit of a blow, like—Mrs. Welman dying, and then the place being sold off so quick—and I—well, the fact of the matter is I was going to get married this autumn, only one’s got to be sure….”
    He stopped.
    Elinor said kindly:
    â€œI hope Major Somervell will take you on. You can rely on me to do all I can.”
    Horlick said again:
    â€œThank you, miss. We all hoped, you see, as how the place would be kept on by the family. Thank you, miss.”
    Elinor walked on.
    Suddenly, rushing over her like the stream from a broken dam, a wave of anger, of wild resentment, swept over her.
    â€œWe all hoped the place would be kept on by the