Poor, Dear Margaret KirbyNorris, Kathleen Thompson
General
Poor, Dear Margaret Kirby
Norris, Kathleen Thompson
American fiction -- 20th century; Short stories
"Or suppose we lunched at half-past twelve," her uneasy thoughts ran
on. "That gives us an hour and a half to shop--that ought to be plenty.
But we mustn't lose a minute getting started! Mrs. Thayer will come up
in her motor--that will save us time. We can start right off the
instant I get to Jim's office."
She stopped at the caterer's for a brief but satisfactory interview.
The caterer was an artist, but his enthusiasms this morning were wasted
upon Susanna.
"Yes, yes--cucumber sandwiches by all means," she assented hastily,
"and the ices--just as you like! Plain, I think--or did you say in
cases? I don't care. Only don't fail me, Mr. Ludovici."
Fail her? Mr. Ludovici's lexicon did not know the word. Susanna
breathed more freely as she crossed the sunny village street to the
train.
The station platform was deserted and bare. Susanna, accustomed to a
breathless late arrival, could saunter with delightful leisure to the
ticket-seller's window.
"You've not forgotten the new time-table?" said the agent, pleasantly,
when they had exchanged greetings.
"Oh, does the change begin to-day?" Susanna looked blank.
"October sixteenth, winter schedule," he reminded her buoyantly. "Going
to be lots of engagements missed to-day!"
"But mine is very important and I cannot miss it," said Susanna,
displeased at his levity. "I MUST be in Mr. Fairfax's office at eleven."
"You won't be more than ten or twelve minutes late," said young Mr.
Green, consolingly. "You tell Mr. Fairfax it's up to the N.Y. and E.W."
Susanna smiled perfunctorily, but took her place in the train with a
sinking heart. She would be late, of course, and Jim would be angry, of
course. Late to-day, when every minute counted and the programme
allowed for not an instant's delay! Her eyes on the flying countryside,
she rehearsed her part, found herself eloquently explaining to a
pacified Jim, capturing a gracious Mrs. Thayer, successfully reaching
home again, and explaining to an entirely amiable bridge club.
It could be done, of course, but it meant a pretty full day! Susanna's
mind reverted uneasily to the consideration that she had already
bungled matters. Oh, well, if she was late, she was late, that was all;
and if Jim was furious, why, Jim would simply have to be furious! And
she began her explanations again--
After all, it was but fifteen minutes past eleven when she walked into
her husband's office. But neither Jim nor Mrs. Thayer was there.
"Mr. Fairfax went out not three minutes ago," said the pretty
stenographer in the outer office. Susanna, brought to a full stop,
stared at her blankly.
"Went out!"
"Yes, with Mrs. Thayer to the dentist. He said to say he was afraid you
had missed your train. There's a note."
The note was forthwith produced. Susanna read it frowningly. It was
rather conspicuously headed "Eleven-twelve!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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