I pace in front of the bay window like a bird flapping its wings. I see movement on the pavement. A woman turns at the house. She’s here. I pick up the Missionary Journal and sit on the sofa, as if nothing is on my mind.
Mrs. Williamson comes in with Mrs. Stevenson who is taking off her gloves. I stand.
“Mrs. Stevenson, how nice to see you again,” I say. I almost curtsey but catch myself in time.
“Miss Pigot,” she smiles and extends her hand.
Fiona comes in balancing a tray with a coffee service. I watch her place the cups and coffee pot. I must tell Mrs. Williamson about Mrs. Wilson’s pupils.
Mrs. Williamson pours the coffee.
“Could you put my cup on the table, Mrs. Williamson?” I ask. “I’m a bit unsteady this morning.” I pick up my cup with both hands. The ladies watch me from the corners of their eyes but don’t say anything.
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