The Fortunes of Springfield by Eleanor Farnes

much. Bring the children over to tea with us.”
    “That is kind of you, Miss Close. I won’t promise to bring Terence, because he is obstinately naughty; but it would do the little girls good . ”
    Caroline thought it exceptionally good of Patricia to be concerned about whether she was lonely; but Patricia, in truth, was not concerned about Caroline at all. She had discovered what she wanted to know, she had decided to keep a watchful eye on Caroline; and she went away to look for David on the farm, feeling that Miss Weedon had once more seen what did not really exist.
    Perhaps some of Patricia’s concern would have returned if she had been at Springfield that evening. For Caroline was tackling the heavy crystal chandelier in the dining-room when David found her there. This particular chandelier had worried Caroline for some time. There it hung, a beautiful thing engrimed with the dust of years, its sparkle dimmed. It was far too heavy for Caroline to take down, even with the help of Mrs. Davis, and David seemed to have forgotten about it, so Caroline had brought in a small, strong kitchen table to stand on, and, with unlimited supplies of hot water, was washing the chandelier where it hung. To reach the top, she had put a strong wooden box on top of the table, and on this somewhat precarious perch she was standing when David opened the drawing-room door.
    “Good heavens,” he exclaimed. “What are you doing up there?”
    “I’m cleaning the chandelier,” she said.
    “Well, I can see that, but why do it at this time of the evening?”
    “I just felt like doing it: I’m so anxious to see it looking as it ought to look. And you never do co m e into this room in the evening.”
    “I wouldn’t have done so now; but I saw the light under the door and thought somebody had left it on. I came in to switch it off. That looks a dangerous position to be in.”
    “It isn’t really. It’s quite firm.”
    “Can I help you?”
    “I don’t think so, thank you, Mr. Springfield. It’s a job needing a lot of patience chiefly. You see how this top piece is looking. It’s going to be quite beautiful.”
    “Yes,” he said. “The way it always used to look.” Caroline stepped down off her box, and, standing on the table, sat on the box instead.
    “This must have been a lovely house once, Mr. Springfield,” she said.
    “It was.”
    “This room, for instance. Look at the alcoves now I have painted them and filled them with your mother’s Wedgwood.”
    “My great-great-grandmother’s Wedgwood,” he said. “Yes, you have made it look resplendent.”
    “And this wonderful chandelier. I can hardly wait to see it sparkle as it should.”
    “You know, Miss Hearst, all this kind of work hardly comes into the terms of our contract. ”
    “No, I suppose not, but you surely don’t object to the house being brought into its own again?”
    “Certainly not. It’s what I want. As soon as I get time, I want to tackle the job properly. I know what it was like in my mother’s time: I have memories of the house as elegant and shilling as it ought to be, and as I w ant to see it again. But I don’t expect you to slave at it.”
    “ But it hurts me, too, to see lovely things dirty and neglected.”
    “What I don’t understand,” said David, “is how my brother could care so little. The hall, for instance, which is quite a gem in its way. I’ll show you what I want to do in the hall.”
    Caroline got down from her table and went into the hall with him, and from there up the elegant staircase as he showed her how badly it n eeded french-polishing again; and then into the upper hall where David intended to replace the original window, which was still in one of the stables. They were both absorbed in their discussion.
    “It would be a wonderful house for entertaining,” said Caroline.
    “That’s what I want to do,” said David. “You see, Miss Hearst, you’re already fond of the house, and you’ve only known it a few