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Mrs. Johnson followed.
“Cora,” she said, “you work too hard. You ought to have a free
summer, like you did when you were a little girl.”
“I’m not Minnie,” Cora said with a frown, continuing to stack
plates. “You need me.”
“Minnie?” Charles asked, flashing a dimple to atone for inter-
rupting.
“My other daughter,” Mrs. Johnson said. “She ought to have
been down, but . . .”
“But she’s dotty,” Cora muttered.
Mrs. Johnson turned back to Cora. “I think you should spend
as much time as possible outside in the fresh air. Come fall, you’ll
finish your schooling and never have a summer like this again. I’ve
been meaning to bring the O’Connell girl on, and she’ll be more
than enough help for me and Minnie.”
“I can’t simply do nothing this summer.”
Charles watched the studied, careful nonchalance of Mrs.
Johnson’s delivery, and the way the other boy listened intently
while pretending to do nothing at all. Ah! They were trying to
keep Cora out of the house, and away from the attentions of
that man. Which told Charles that they needed the boarder’s
money, but that Mrs. Johnson was well aware of her daughter’s
safety, and partnered with the boy to secure it.
“Actually,” Charles said, adding a bit of extra wheeze to his
voice, “if I could be so bold, my father had talked of hiring a com-
panion, but companions are always stuffy old women who smell
like cats. I loathe cats. Couldn’t we pay extra to have Cora and
Minnie look after us this summer?”
Thom sputtered in embarrassment next to him, and Charles
stomped hard on his foot under the table. If
