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By Root 604 0

them. She made friends with a beggar-man who lived in the street. He was very dirty and he smelled of beer, but Caroline thought he was funny; she would sit on the steps and talk to him for hours, if I didn’t stop her. She was brave in other ways, too. One time there was a snake in the cellar stairwell — the servants were frightened to death of it. It was over a yard long, but Caroline said she’d read about black snakes in her animal book and they weren’t poisonous. She marched right down the steps and picked it up with her bare hands. I nearly fainted.”

Against her will, Maud was impressed. She knew she would never pick up any snake, poisonous or not. “I guess that was brave,” she said grudgingly.

“People said I spoiled her.” Mrs. Lambert spoke as if she had forgotten Maud. “I suppose I did. I didn’t want to break her spirit, and heaven knows there was money for the things she wanted. After her father died, she was often naughty. I sometimes think she misbehaved on purpose, to keep from missing him too much.”

Maud pricked up her ears. “What did she do that was bad?”

“She was very willful,” Mrs. Lambert said reluctantly. “She was used to having her own way, and when I didn’t give in, she teased and coaxed. She never gave up. I found her — difficult.” Once again she took her handkerchief from her bosom. She pressed it over her lips and held it there, as if she were stifling her own cries.

Maud combed the sand with her fingers. She knew Mrs. Lambert was about to cry, and when she cried, Maud guessed, she would cry hard. Maud wished she wouldn’t. It was embarrassing when grown-ups cried. After a few moments, she changed her mind. Mrs. Lambert was trembling; her body was rigid; she was suspended halfway between self-control and wild grief. Watching her hang in the balance was unnerving. Maud ventured, “Was she pretty?”

The words broke the stalemate. Mrs. Lambert let out her breath. Tears brimmed from her eyes, but she wiped them away in a perfectly sensible manner. “Very pretty. She was rather vain about all that.”

Maud had expected more loyalty from Caroline’s mother. “Vain?” she echoed.

“A little,” Mrs. Lambert said judiciously. “She loved pretty clothes — dainty, frilly things — and she was vain of her hair. She wasn’t patient — she hated standing still — but she let me comb out her ringlets every morning, because she loved having such beautiful curls.” Mrs. Lambert smiled at Maud’s shocked face. “I try to remember her exactly as she was. If I were to forget, that would be like losing her again, don’t you see?”

Maud thought about this. It went against what Hyacinth had told her. It seemed that Caroline Lambert had not been an angel child after all.

“Rory Hugelick used to say —” Mrs. Lambert paused. “You’ve met him, he’s the man who takes tickets at the carousel. . . . Rory used to say that Caroline was as vain as a peacock and as brave as a lion.” Her smile faded. “Only that was the trouble, you see. Caroline was never afraid of anything. She never believed that anything bad could happen to her. She wasn’t allowed to go bathing by herself — I was strict about that — but she disobeyed me and she drowned.” Her voice was suddenly harsh. “We must take care that doesn’t happen to you. You mustn’t go bathing alone.”

“I won’t,” said Maud.

But Mrs. Lambert was not convinced. “Perhaps I could walk home with you and speak to your father? I don’t want to get you in trouble, Mary, dear, but it does seem to me bathing alone is too dangerous. Perhaps I could meet you here and keep an eye —”

Maud scrambled to her feet. “I have to go now,” she said. “I mean I have to go now, right this minute.” She pointed to the sky. “It’s dark.”

Mrs. Lambert was gathering up her parasol. She had one glove and was groping for the other. Maud had no mercy. She had stayed too long, and now Mrs. Lambert meant to follow her home. She snatched the second glove and threw it as hard as she could. Then she turned her back to the painted sky and fled, leaving the woman stranded and bewildered on the shore.

Maud dreamed. She was walking on the