4_50 From Paddington - Agatha Christie [46]
She eyed Cedric with a slightly disapproving air.
“Tell us about Lucy as a child, Miss Marple,” said Cedric.
She smiled up at him delightedly.
“Lucy was always so clever,” she said. “Yes, you were, dear—now don’t interrupt. Quite remarkable at arithmetic. Why, I remember when the butcher overcharged me for top side of beef….”
Miss Marple launched full steam ahead into reminiscences of Lucy’s childhood and from there to experiences of her own in village life.
The stream of reminiscence was interrupted by the entry of Bryan and the boys rather wet and dirty as a result of an enthusiastic search for clues. Tea was brought in and with it came Dr. Quimper who raised his eyebrows slightly as he looked round after acknowledging his introduction to the old lady.
“Hope your father’s not under the weather, Emma?”
“Oh, no—that is, he was just a little tired this afternoon—”
“Avoiding visitors, I expect,” said Miss Marple with a roguish smile. “How well I remember my own dear father. ‘Got a lot of old pussies coming?’ he would say to my mother. ‘Send my tea into the study.’ Very naughty about it, he was.”
“Please don’t think—” began Emma, but Cedric cut in.
“It’s always tea in the study when his dear sons come down. Psychologically to be expected, eh, Doctor?”
Dr. Quimper, who was devouring sandwiches and coffee cake with the frank appreciation of a man who has usually too little time to spend on his meals, said:
“Psychology’s all right if it’s left to the psychologists. Trouble is, everyone is an amateur psychologist nowadays. My patients tell me exactly what complexes and neuroses they’re suffering from, without giving me a chance to tell them. Thanks, Emma, I will have another cup. No time for lunch today.”
“A doctor’s life, I always think, is so noble and self-sacrificing,” said Miss Marple.
“You can’t know many doctors,” said Dr. Quimper. “Leeches they used to be called, and leeches they often are! At any rate, we do get paid nowadays, the State sees to that. No sending in of bills that you know won’t ever be met. Trouble is that all one’s patients are determined to get everything they can ‘out of the Government,’ and as a result, if little Jenny coughs twice in the night, or little Tommy eats a couple of green apples, out the poor doctor has to come in the middle of the night. Oh, well! Glorious cake, Emma. What a cook you are!”
“Not mine. Miss Eyelesbarrow’s.”
“You make ’em just as good,” said Quimper loyally.
“Will you come and see Father?”
She rose and the doctor followed her. Miss Marple watched them leave the room.
“Miss Crackenthorpe is a very devoted daughter, I see,” she said.
“Can’t imagine how she sticks the old man myself,” said the outspoken Cedric.
“She has a very comfortable home here, and father is very much attached to her,” said Harold quickly.
“Em’s all right,” said Cedric. “Born to be an old maid.”
There was a faint twinkle in Miss Marple’s eye as she said:
“Oh, do you think so?”
Harold said quickly:
“My brother didn’t use the term old maid in any derogatory sense, Miss Marple.”
“Oh, I wasn’t offended,” said Miss Marple. “I just wondered if he was right. I shouldn’t say myself that Miss Crackenthorpe would be an old maid. She’s the type, I think, that’s quite likely to marry late in life—and make a success of it.”
“Not very likely living here,” said Cedric. “Never sees anybody she could marry.”
Miss Marple’s twinkle became more pronounced than ever.
“There are always clergymen—and doctors.”
Her eyes, gentle and mischievous, went from one to another.
It was clear that she had suggested to them something that they had never thought of and which they did not find overpleasing.
Miss Marple rose to her feet, dropping as she did so, several little woolly scarves and her bag.
The three brothers were most attentive picking things up.
“So kind of you,” fluted Miss Marple. “Oh, yes, and my little blue muffler. Yes—as I say—so kind