“That was a long time ago.”
“And becoming so again, to hear Mrs. Krebs tell it. Now, please sit with us and eat. We’d like that, Anne, would we not?”
“Yes, Grandfather. Eat! Eat!”
“Oh, very well. I cannot disappoint two such lovely girls.”
Just as the three of them sat down to porridge and tea, Daniel Taylor walked in, rumpled and red-eyed from a long night of duty at the Manor Home.
“Good morning, Dr. Taylor,” Charlotte said. “Did you have a pleasant evening?”
“Not at all.”
“I am sorry to hear it.”
“Finances at the Manor improving any?” his father asked.
“The pressure has let up some, yes.”
“Capital!”
“I should not go that far.”
“Here. Sit down.” Charlotte spooned out another bowl of porridge. “Have some breakfast.”
Dr. Taylor sat down with a grateful smile.
“Are you working in the foundling ward today, Father?”
“Yes. And Mrs. Moorling has asked me to look in on one of the new patients as well. Poor thing is frightened to death of Dr. Preston.”
Shaking his head, Daniel Taylor shared a knowing look with Charlotte. Then he turned to his daughter. “And what will you two do today?” he asked, spooning treacle into his bowl.
“We’re going to themoo-zeeum.”
He chuckled. “How marvelous.”
“I know she is too young to enjoy it,” Charlotte explained. “But I have been longing to see the Egyptian exhibit.”
“I hear it is impressive indeed.”
“And we’re to have cherry ices after. Do come with us, Papa!”
He smiled at his daughter’s enthusiasm. “Not this time, I’m afraid. I did not manage much sleep last night. I am in great need of a nap before I see patients this afternoon.”
“Missy says naps are good for you.”
He smiled at Charlotte over Anne’s head. “She is quite right.”
One afternoon in late September, Charlotte was playing backgammon with John Taylor during Anne’s nap, when Marie handed her a letter from the day’s post. From the return address, she saw it was from her cousin Katherine. She opened the letter and read it slowly. Then she glanced up and saw John Taylor looking at her with concern in his hound-dog eyes.
“Not bad news, I hope?”
“No. An invitation, actually.”
“To a hanging?”
“No.” She sighed. “To a birthday party.”
