Arsenic And Old Books

A quick check of my watch told me why. At eleven fifteen it was close enough to lunch for us to take a break and head home to eat. “Come on, boy, I’m a little peckish myself.”

After a meal of scrumptious homemade chicken pot pie for me and more boiled chicken for him, Diesel and I made it back to the office around twelve fifteen. Melba’s door was closed, and that meant she was out to lunch. She would no doubt appear upstairs at some point in the afternoon, but not, I hoped, until I had made considerably more progress with Rachel Long’s diary.

The cat settled into this favorite spot while I called up the file. I found my place and started reading. Moments later, I hit upon another mention of the Singletary family.

Vidalia Singletary came to see me today while Father Long was occupied elsewhere, and that is just as well, for he finds the sight of the poor woman distasteful—almost as distasteful as that of her husband, for whom he has little good to say. That pains me, for I would have my husband be of a more Christian disposition toward these unfortunates. Vidalia appeared near exhaustion, and she burst into the most pitiable tears the moment I first spoke to her. It took me some several minutes to calm the poor woman enough that I might hear the extent of her troubles. The sum of them was simply that her husband was still too weak to work the farm. Franklin, the son by Mr. Singletary’s first wife, is rather a feckless boy and moreover is not himself strong, apparently suffering from a similar complaint of the heart as his father.

How could I not take pity upon one so wretched? My soul would be worth nothing in this life or the next were I not to help those so much less fortunate than we. Although I do see that difficult times are coming for us all, as we are feeling the effects of that d——d blockade (the Lord forgive me for swearing, but we are vexed terribly by this) of our ports. Yet with the shortages here, I know the situation is much more dire for Vidalia and her little ones. Vidalia herself is in rags, and the children fare little better.

In addition to victuals I also gave her a large bolt of cloth from which to make suitable garments for herself and the children. My charity is perhaps not as pure as the Lord would command, for I gave her the bolts of green tarlatan sent to me by my cousin Marianna from London. The shade is most complimentary to me, but the fabric does have a rather peculiar smell. I would rather not see it go to waste, and there is enough for Vidalia to make at least two suits of clothing for each of the children as well as a simple dress for herself.