Pilgrim’s Rest

Miss Silver coughed and enquired,

“Who is Henry?”

chapter 5

Judy had come to Pilgrim’s Rest in the pouring rain. It is not the best way to arrive, or to see a house for the first time. The old hired car which had met them at Ledlington stopped halfway down the village street. It was about the wettest street she had ever seen, because not only were there gallons of water falling on it from the low grey sky, but quite a sizable little stream ran down the left-hand side in a paved cha

The car stopped on the right, and she saw the rain ru

And then the door of the glass passage was opening, and she jumped Pe

It was the butler who had opened the door, an elderly man with a disapproving face. Whether it was always like that, or whether he thought it as well that Judy should know straight away how he and Mrs. Robbins felt about a young lady housemaid with a child of four, she had no means of knowing. There was, however, no sign of softening when Pe

They came into a large square hall with rooms opening off it on either side and a staircase going up in the background. The house felt big and cold though it wasn’t really a cold day. When she sorted out her impressions afterwards, that is what they amounted to-rain, and a big, cold house, and Robbins’ unwelcoming face.

The sorting out took place, as it generally does, at bedtime. She and Pe

But their room was quite modern, with twin beds enamelled white, which was a surprise, because the house rather suggested gloomy four-posters. Judy lay on a rather hard mattress and told herself that it wasn’t too bad at all; that everything would feel better when the rain had stopped and the sun came out; that it was idiotic to suppose it wouldn’t come out, because it always did in the end; and doubly, trebly idiotic, to let anything Frank Abbott said make the slightest difference to her feelings about Pilgrim’s Rest.

She began to think about the people there. Miss Columba coming into the hall to meet them. Rather a shock after only seeing her in town, large and quite normally covered up in a fur coat and a felt hat. In sprawling birdseye tweeds she looked immense, with an orange sweater up to her double chin and thick curly grey hair cut almost as short as a man’s.

Perfectly enormous hands and feet, and even less to say for herself than at their previous meeting. But quite nice and kind-the sort of kindness that expects to be taken for granted, and takes you for granted too. Very difficult to co

Judy thought she didn’t look in the least ill, with those blue eyes and pink cheeks, but of course you never could tell. Some of the colour was make-up, and very well done. She suspected that her personal appearance was one of Miss Netta’s preoccupations, the other two being her embroidery and her health.

Roger Pilgrim-she had sat through a meal with him but they hadn’t exchanged a word except the bare conventional “How do you do?” If Miss Janetta didn’t look ill, Roger certainly did. And nervous. His hand shook when he lifted his glass, his eyes looked here and there, he jumped when a door banged. Having come in late for the meal, he disappeared as soon as it was over, with a hasty “I’ll go and have a cigarette with Jerome.” When she came to think of it Judy couldn’t remember that he had spoken at all between his “How do you do?” to her and this excuse to get out of the room.

The invalid cousin’s name naturally brought Miss Day into her mind. Lona-that’s what they all called her-the nurse who looked after Captain Pilgrim and Miss Netta. She didn’t dress like a nurse, because Captain Pilgrim hated things that rustled and Miss Netta found the uniform inartistic. So there was Miss Day with a skirt of russet tweed and a soft yellow jumper. Not very young, but she had a good figure, and the jumper showed it off. Not goodlooking exactly-a peaked, pale face, greenish hazel eyes, and a lot of chestnut hair- rather good hair. There was some likeness-something odd and elusive-Judy couldn’t place it. It stayed in her mind in the irritating niggling way that sort of thing does. But she was quite sure she had never seen Lona Day before-she would have remembered her if she had. Something warm and interested in her ma

“I’m afraid his room is going to be rather tiresome for you. You will have to do it whilst he is in the bathroom, but that will give you quite half an hour, because he shaves there as well as having his bath. He wouldn’t shave for a long time because of the scar, but I am so glad he has begun now. He’s so sensitive about the disfigurement, and it’s so bad for him, poor fellow.”

“Doesn’t he come down at all?”

“Oh, yes, he does as a rule-on his good days. But it really is an ordeal for him to meet a stranger, and he’s dreadfully afraid of frightening your little Pe