A Drowned Maiden's Hair_ A Melodrama - Laura Amy Schlitz [69]
Maud realized this was an ultimatum. She bowed her head. In smaller letters, she conceded, MAUD NOT GO IN WATER. MAUD WORK IN SAND. MAUD GO SEE CAROUSEL.
Muffet nodded, patted her shoulder, and pointed toward the bedclothes. Make your bed. Obediently, Maud stood up and began to pull the sheet taut. The hired woman withdrew to her own room, only to reappear, holding out a closed fist. There was a tentative smile on her face. Slowly she uncurled her fingers, showing five dimes on her palm.
Maud gazed at her blankly.
Muffet took Maud’s hand and tipped the dimes into it.
“Mine?” breathed Maud.
Muffet bowed her head like a soprano acknowledging bouquets thrown from the balcony. She took up the tablet and wrote proudly MAUD GO IN CAROUSEL.
Maud’s brain reeled. Five dimes. Fifty cents. Ten rides on Angel, or nine rides and an ice-cream cone. . . . Why, the boardwalk was full of things that could be bought for fifty cents! She had seen the signs. She could see a moving picture show, or buy a little bottle of cologne. She could have a frankfurter or a grilled sandwich or an egg cream or a whole big bag of candy. “Oh, Muffet.” She knew that the hired woman earned little more than a dollar a week.
Muffet’s smile spread to a grin. She held out her hands and Maud leaped forward, wrapping her arms around the hired woman’s waist.
“Caroline,” begged Hyacinth, in the heartbroken voice of a mother who had lost her child, “where are you? Why did you leave me?”
Maud lifted her eyes to the ceiling. The questions that Hyacinth had just asked were numbers seven and twenty-one on the list she had memorized. She knew the answers, of course, but it was the first time Hyacinth had combined separate questions, and she wasn’t sure which to answer first. “I am right beside you, dear Mama,” she answered in her sweetest voice. “I am closer than your shadow.”
“Why did you leave me?” persisted Hyacinth.
“Dear Mama,” Maud replied, “I didn’t leave you. I never shall. It was time for me to leave your world — that is all.”
“Why haven’t you spoken to me before?” demanded Hyacinth.
“Dear Mama,” Maud began, “I tried to speak, but you couldn’t hear me. Tonight it’s different. The other lady makes it easier for me to come to you.” She scratched her nose. “Do I have to say the ‘dear Mama’ part every time?”
“Every time.” Hyacinth kicked a footstool into place beside her chair, put up her feet, and lolled backward.
“It’s the same thing over and over,” complained Maud.
“It’s affectionate,” said Hyacinth. “Mrs. Lambert will want you to be affectionate.” She glanced at the list she had written out for Maud and chose another question. “Do you forgive me?”
Maud sighed. That was number four. “Dear Mama! There is nothing to forgive! Are you sure she’s going to ask that one?”
“They all ask that one.” Hyacinth sighed mournfully. “Oh, Caroline! If only I could hold you in my arms!”
“Perhaps you may, sometime,” Maud said evasively.
“Dear Mama,” prompted Hyacinth.
“Perhaps you may, sometime, dear Mama,” Maud said.
“Good.” Hyacinth ran her finger down the list. “Where are you, Caroline? Are you in heaven?”
Maud pitched her voice so that it sounded high and faraway. “I am in a country that is called by many names,” she answered plaintively. “Oh, Mama! How beautiful it is! I wish you could see it — the sparkling sunlight and the lilies and the streets as clear as crystal!”
“Are you happy there, my child?”
“Oh, Mama, so happy!” Maud grimaced. “I hate that line. It makes me feel silly.”
“Well, of course, a good deal of this is silly,” conceded Hyacinth. “However, that’s neither here nor there. When can I hold you in my arms, my darling child?”
That was an easy one. “Soon,” Maud promised. “Dear Mama, I hope it will be soon! You must ask the lady to help us.”
“Excellent.” Hyacinth folded the list. “Very nicely done.”
“When is the séance?” demanded Maud, flopping down on the carpet close to the footstool. “Wednesday or Thursday?”
“Thursday, perhaps. Judith and I are still working out the details. She’s nervous.” Hyacinth