Hickory Dickory Dock

"I can't allow you to say things like that," she said in the voice an old fashioned Nanny might have used to a particularly truculent charge. "It isn't a - nice thing to do, and one of these days it will land you in trouble." "A hid!" Mrs. Nicoletis threw the sheaf of bills dramatically up in the air whence they fluttered to the ground in aBut directions. Mrs.

Hubbard bent and picked them up, pursing her lips.

"You enrage me," shouted her employer.

"I daresay," said Mrs. Hubbard, "but it's bad for you, you know, getting all worked up.

Tempers are bad for the blood pressure." "You admit that these totals are higher than those of last week?" "Of course they are. There's been some very good cut price stuff going at Lampson's Stores.

I've taken advantage of it. Next week's total will be below average." Mrs. Nicoletis looked sulky.

"You explain everything so plausibly." "There," Mrs Hubbard put the bills in a neat pile on the table. "Anything else?" "The American girl, Sally Finch, she talks of le'aying-I do no t want her to go. She is a Fulbright scholar. She will bring here other Fulbright scholars. She must not leave." "What's her reason for leaving?" Mrs. Nicoletis humped monumental shoulders.

"How can I remember? It was not genuine. I could tell that. I always know." Mrs. Hubbard nodded thoughtfully. She was inclined to believe Mrs. Nicoletis on that point.

"Sally hasn't said anything to me," she said.

"But you will talk to her?" "Yes, of course." "And if it is thesd coloured students, these Indians, these Negresses-then they can all go, you understand?

The colour bar, it means everything to these Americans comandfor me it is the Americans that matter-as for these coloured ones-Scram!" She made a dramatic gesture.

"Not while I'm in charge," said Mrs. Hubbard coldly. "And anyway, you're wrong. There's no feeling of that sort here amongst the students, and Sally certainly isn't like that. She and Mr. Akibombo have lunch together quite often, and nobody could be blacker than he is." "Then it is Communists-you know what the Americans are about Communists. Nigel Chapman now-he is a Communist." "I doubt it." "Yes, Yes. You should have heard what he was saying the other evening." "Nigel will say anything to annoy people. He is very tiresome that way." "You know them all so well. Dear Mrs.

Hubbard, you are wonderful! I say to myself again and agwhat should I do without Mrs. Hubbard? I rely on you utterly. You are a wonderful wonderful woman." coneaAfter the powder, the jam," said Mrs. Hubbard.

"What is that?" "Don't worry. I'll do what I can." She left the room cutting short a gushing speech of thanks.

Muttering to herself "Wasting my time-what a maddening woman she is!" she hurried along the passage and into her own sitting room.

But there was to be no peace for Mrs. Hubbard as yet. A tall figure rose to her feet as Mrs. Hubbard entered and said, "I should be glad to speak to you for a few minutes, please." "Of course, Elizabeth." Mrs. Hubbard was rather surprised. Elizabeth Johnston was a girl from the West Indies who was studying law. She was a hard worker, ambitious, who kept very much to herself. She had always seemed particularly well balanced and competent, and Mrs.

Hubbard had always regarded her as one of the most satisfactory students in the Hostel.

She was perfectly controlled now, but Mrs.

Hubbard caught the slight tremor in her voice although the dark features were quite impassive.

"Is something the matter?" "Yes. Will you come with me to my room, please?" "Just a moment." Mrs. Hubbard threw off her coat and gloves and then followed the girl out of the room and up the next flight of stairs. The girl had a room on the top floor. She opened the door and went across to a table near the window.

"Here are the notes of my work," she said. "This represents several months of hard study. You see what has been done?" Mrs. Hubbard caught her breath with a slight gasp.

Ink had been spilled on the table. It had run all over the papers, soaking them through. Mrs.

Hubbard touched it with her finger tip. It was still wet.

She said, knowing the question to be foolish as she asked it, "You didn't spill the ink yourself?" "No. It was done whilst I was out." "Mrs. Biggs, do you think" Mrs. Biggs was the cleaning woman who looked after the top floor bedrooms.

"It was not Mrs. Biggs. It was not even my own ink. That is here on the shelf by my bed. It has not been touched. It was done by someone who brought ink here and did it deliberately." Mrs. Hubbard was shocked.

"What a very wicked-and cruel thing to do." "Yes, it is a bad thing." The girl spoke quite quietly, but Mrs.

Hubbard did not make the mistake of underrating her feelings.

"Well, Elizabeth, I hardly know what to say. I am shocked, badly shocked, and I shall do my utmost to find out who did this wicked malicious thing. You've no ideas yourself as to that?" The girl replied at once.