“Oh bother my pen.” She went over to the shelves where odds and ends were kept belonging to various students. “There doesn’t seem to be any ink here except Nigel’s awful green. Oh, I’ll use that. Nigel won’t mind, I must remember to get a new bottle of Ouink when I go out.” She filled the pen and came back and wrote out the cheque.
Giving it to Mrs. Hubbard, she glanced at her watch.
“I shall be late. I’d better not stop for breakfast.” “Now you’d better have something, Celia-even if it’s only a bit of bread and butter-no good going out on an emlyly stomach. Yes, what is it?” Geronimo, the Italian manservant, had come into the room and was making emphatic gestures with his hands, his wizened monkey-like face screwed up in a comical grimace.
“The Padrona, she just come in. She want to see you.” He added, with a final gesture, “She plenty mad.” “I’m coming.” Mrs. Hubbard left the room while Celia hurriedly began hacking a piece off the loaf.
Mrs. Nicoletis was walking up and down her room in a fairly good imitation of a tiger at the Zoo near feeding time.
“What is this I hear?” she burst out. “You send for the police? Without a word to me? Who do you think you are? My God, who does the woman think she is?” “I did not send for the police.” “You are a liar.” “Now then, Mrs. Nicoletis, you can’t talk to me like that.” “Oh no. Certainly not! It is I who am wrong, not you. Always me. Everything you do is perfect. Police in my respectable Hostel.” “It wouldn’t be the first time,” said “Jrs.
Hubbard, recalling various unpleasant incidents.
“There was that West Indian student who was wanted for living on immoral earnings and the notorious young communist agitator who came here under a false name-and-was “Ah! You throw that in my teeth? Is it my fault that people come here and He to me and have forged papers and are wanted to assist the police in murder cases? And you reproach me for what I have suffereeaggI!” “I’m doing nothing of the kind. I only point out that it wouldn’t be exactly a novelty to have the police here comI daresay it’s inevitable with a mixed lot of students. But the fact is that no one has “called in the police.” A private detective with a big reputation happened to dine here as my guest last night. He gave a very interesting talk on criminology to the students.” “As if there were any need to talk about criminology to our students! They know quite enough already.
Enough to steal and destroy and sabotage as they like! And nothing is done about it-nothing!” “T have done something about it.” “Yes, you have told this friend of yours all about our most intimate affairs. That is a gross breach of confidence.” “Not at all. I’m responsible for running this place. I’m glad to tell you the matter is now cleared up. One of the students has confessed that she has been responsible for most of these happenings.” “Dirty little cat,” said Mrs. Nicoletis.
“Throw her into the street.” “She is ready to leave of her own accord and she is making full reparation.” “What is the good of that? My beautiful Students” Home will now have a bad name. No one will come.” Mrs. Nicoletis sat down on the sofa and burst into tears. “Nobody thinks of my feelings,” she sobbed. “It is abominable, the way I am treated. Ignored! Thrust aside! If I wete to die tomorrow, who would care?” Wisely leaving this question unanswered, Mrs.
Hubhard left the room.
“May the Almighty give me patience,” said Mrs. Hubbard to herself and went down to the kitchen to interview Maria.
Maria was sullen and uncooperative. The word “police” hovered unspoken in the air.
“It is I who WiRather be accused. I and Geronimo-the povero. What justice can you expect in a foreign land?
No, I cannot cook the risotto as you suggesthey send the wrong rice. I make you instead the spaghetti.” “We had spaghetti last night.” “It does not matter. In my country we eat the spaghetti every day-every single day. The pasta, it is good all the time.” “Yes, but you’re in England now.” “Very well then, I make the stew. The English stew. You will not like it but I make it-pale-palewith the onions boiled in much water instead of cooked in the oil-and pale meat on cracked bones.” Maria spoke so menacingly that Mrs. Hubbard felt she was listening to an account of a murder.