Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors by Sr. David O. Dyer

uncle's clothes. Why don't you keep them?"
    “Yes ma'am."
* * * *
    At first there was a little peevish cry of ‘mammy', and an effort to regain the pillowing arm and bosom; but mammy's ear was deaf, and the pillow seemed to be slipping away backward. Suddenly, as the child rolled downward on its mother's knees, all wet with snow, its eyes were caught by a bright glancing light on the white ground, and, with the ready transition of infancy, it was immediately absorbed in watching the bright living thing running towards it, yet never arriving. That bright living thing must be caught; and in an instant the child had slipped on all fours, and held out one little hand to catch the gleam. But the gleam would not be caught in that way, and now the head was held up to see where the cunning gleam came from. It came from a very bright place; and the little one, rising on its legs, toddled through the snow, the old grimy shawl in which it was wrapped trailing behind it, and the queer little bonnet dangling at its back—toddled on to the open door of Silas Marner's cottage and right up to the warm hearth, where there was a bright fire of logs and sticks, which had thoroughly warmed the old sack (Silas's greatcoat) spread out on the bricks to dry. The little one, accustomed to be left to itself for long hours without notice from its mother, squatted down on the sack, and spread its tiny hands towards the blaze, in perfect contentment, gurgling and making many inarticulate communications to the cheerful fire, like a new-hatched gosling beginning to find itself comfortable. But presently the warmth had a lulling effect, and the little golden head sank down on the old sack, and the blue eyes were veiled by their delicate half-transparent lids.
    Sandra looked up from her reading when Bobby set a lunch tray on the library table. “Thank you, Bobby,” she said with a little surprise in her voice. “I didn't realize it was lunch time."
    Bobby nodded and carried a similar tray to the study.
    Sandra read to the end of the chapter, then moved to the table. Looks good, she thought, lifting the top piece of bread from the sandwich. Ham, cheese, lettuce and tomato with a pickle and potato chips on the side. I must remember to buy some Pepsi's, but Tim's diet colas will have to do for now.
    Fifty pages and no further mention of Dunsey, she thought. I'll still bet he's off somewhere having a great time with Marner's money. And poor Silas, stuck with an orphaned girl. Damned if I would want to be stuck with somebody else's brat. Briefly, but only briefly, she thought maybe she was trying to stick Tim with her mother's orphaned daughter.
* * * *
    Tim leaned back in his desk chair and admired his rearranged desktop. The 15-inch color monitor was on the back left-hand corner; the printer was to its right. The Zip drive that the pimply-faced salesman talked him into was just in front of the printer. The laptop itself was on the left and the external keyboard was conveniently located in the old typewriter well of the desk. He was most pleased with the way he had inconspicuously arranged the numerous cables connected to the laptop. To the right of the desk were the neatly stacked empty boxes that previously housed the computer components. He frowned when his gaze fell on the one box crammed with packing material. Everything would be in its place once he disposed of the trash box.
    “Clean study Friday."
    “Don't sneak up on me like that, man. You scared the dickens out of me,” Tim, a little embarrassed, said. “Friday would be good. Do we have trash cans?” Tim asked nodding towards the trash filled box.
    “Out back,” Bobby replied as he picked up the box.
    Now, Tim asked himself, do I start going through papers or do I start learning to use the computer? He stacked the documents received from lawyer Coan on the once again empty table, sat down at his desk, turned on the monitor, plugged in the Zip drive, and snapped on the laptop. He smiled