Sara-Anne recognized the sound of his shoes in the hall. She could easily tell his long steps from her aunt's brisk and spontaneous ones and these still from the maids'. It was an odd useless talent and she hadn't had to practice it.

She continued to paint as the doors opened. "Good morning Paper-doll." Evelyn greeted her.

Sara turned around and smiled. "Hello sweet brother. She said as he piled her curly hair on top of her head and looked over her shoulder.

"Still painting ponds?"

"Still chasing foxes?"

Evelyn smiled and kissed her forehead. "What is it?"

"It's Lake Superior, don't you recognize it?" Sara asked as her brother went over to the window and sat. She studied the clouds she had painted above the lake then looked to him. "What troubles you? You can tell me you know; you could always."

Evelyn looked at her. "What would you think of a man who wanted to marry for love?"

Sara looked at him still completely bewildered.

"I mean to say, would you fancy someone of that sort. Would that be something you wanted?"

Sara dried her brush. "In this society." She thought. "I reckon I'd marry him regardless and think about love latter. America is the place of second chances. Here you can only do right once."

Evelyn laughed. "Yes, we English and or unforgiveable mannerisms."

"I don't mean you of course." Sara said. There was a moment of silence and Sara thought it a good moment to say what she needed to say. "You still think about her don't you; about your friend? It's been years. None of you are getting younger. In my opinion she was remarkably foolish to—"

"Careful Sara-Anne, you do not know her." Evelyn said.

"Well I should like to." Sara said, "If ever I were allowed to go places and meet people. What more you never come see me. You used to come twice in a month. Now when you do come you are always in that awful uniform and you are half the person you used to—"

"For Pete's sake Sara, there's a bloody war on!"

"I know that Evelyn," Sara returned, "You must think I'm completely stupid."

"People are being killed and you sit here day in day out painting ponds."

Sara felt the stab to her heart. "Well I can't help that father has me shut away. I can't help that beyond these walls you're the only child. I can't help that being half blind discredits me a place in society." She looked at her painting as silence once again filled the spaces between them. She counted the ticking of the second hand.

"I'm sorry Sara."

"You didn't have to shout at me."

"I'm sorry. You're right. You can't help the situation." He glanced over at her. "But you should know that neither can I. I didn't ask for there to be war."

Sara cleaned her brush. "Don't be ridiculous Evelyn no one asked for this war." She watched him for a moment then remembered. "Oh I made something for you." She slid off her stool and went over to the mantel. "I've been up to more than just painting." She picked up what appeared to be a handkerchief and presented it to him. "I did it all on my own…not a stitch of assistance." She smiled with pride as he unfolded the handkerchief. "It's a fox!" She exclaimed. "He's leaping in rye. I know you like them." She took it back from him and stuffed it in his top pocket. "Try not to let this one get caught."

/

That evening she stared at her reflection. Her cataract only surprised her when she realized what a contrast it was to her brown eye. She pushed her fingers through her curly hair and looked down a 4x5 of her brother carrying her on his back when she was about four. Her aunt entered, as was her custom every night.

"My dear nephew is being eroded away." She said as she stood behind Sara in the mirror. "If he were are headstone he'd be illegible."

"I can see that he is different." Sara said. "All he ever does anymore is scold me. I think he believes now, that I am useless." She looked again at her reflection. "And he's right." She rested her head on the table. "How can I prove to him…how I can I prove to me that I am a worthy person. All my life people have done things for me. You and Evelyn, the friends back home, the maids here. All I do is paint and watch my chickens lay eggs."

"And what more do you wish to do?" Aunt Margot asked her.

Sara sat up. "Elisabeth said that citizens are organizing soup kitchens. What if I helped there?"

"Sara, for someone like Elisabeth that would be fine; she's a maid. For someone like you however—"

"But who is to know who I am. My father writes me whenever it is convenient for him and he probably has someone do that for him. No one knows, and no one ever has to know."

Margot smiled. "We have left the land of fantasies and opportunity my dear." She said. "However, your brother and have been talking and we both think it would be fare if you had a little adventure of your own."

"I thought it was you who said I was getting too old for adventures."

"Never mind what I said. This is what I'm saying now. We have arranged for you to go to Downton."

"Me! Are such noble people to find out that Evelyn has a sister?"

"You will not go as yourself you will go as my maid. Let's pretend for a moment that your dear aunt wants to contribute to Lady Grantham's hospital." Margot smiled and so did Sara. "I hope they need eggs."

Early in the morning Evelyn came to bid Sara farewell. She smiled as he came into her room. "You are not cross with me are you?"

"No." Sara whispered. "As long as you aren't angry with me either."

Evelyn kissed her forehead.

She touched a button on his uniform. "Do you have you fox in the rye?"

"Right here." Evelyn patted the pocket. "What do you say, when I get back I take you to Queen's Park to see the fish in the ceiling?"

"You said that the last time."

"But this time I promise."

Sara stood on her knees and hugged him then watched him walk once again out of her life. He was the only father figure she had ever known. Her aunt's many lovers had tried but…well…none of them were around now were they?

"Good bye Evelyn."

On Saturday Sara stood in front of her chicken coop. She had thought that fourteen eggs would be enough. It was the number of times she had retied her profusion of her this morning and the number associated with her age since the spring of the year. Fourteen only, in case they didn't like them.

"Sara!"

Coming!"

/

George had always thought that Sara-Anne was strange even for an American. She spoke of stateside things like he should know them. Like how she loathed learning of The Battle of Little Big Horn or how she missed racing around big Plantation houses. He looked back at her. "Almost there now."

Sara craned her neck. "I used to believe that only fairytale princesses lived in castles." She said. "It sort of takes away from the fantasy. If it's all the same to you sir, I'd like to walk from here."

"Walk?"

"If I told you why you'd laugh." Sara said opening the door as the car stopped. She went over to his window. "I'm not a lady. Not like these people here. I know you have lots of customs and that things that I may at times deem silly are taken as insults here but you'll have to bear with me for I fear no amount of English soap can clean this American hide."

George laughed. "Don't exhaust yourself M' dear."

Sara-Anne smiled. She preferred imy dear/i and things in this vein over tawdry titles. She took the letter from her Aunt and started the walk.

By the time she was close enough to see how grand it actually was she thought she would drop dead. Out of habit and confused by exhaustion she worked her way into the courtyard. She had rested for a second when barks tore through the yard. She jumped back against the wall as a dog met her. It barked, flashing its teeth and tugging at its rope.

"Rollo!" A voice scolded from inside, "Down Rollo." Branson grabbed the now whimpering dog by the collar. "Oh, hello. I don't believe I know you."

Sara tried to hold out her Aunt's letter but drew back when the dog tried to move forward.

"Are you afraid of dogs?"

"I do not like them."

"He's harmless. He was just excited. He's not normally out here but he wasn't getting on with his Lordship's dog."

Sara nodded and inched her way to the door. "I have a letter here from Ms. Smith. She wanted to make a contribution towards your efforts here…at the hospital."

"If that dog were a chicken I'd long ago put it in a pot to shut it up!" A red haired woman suddenly appeared in the doorway. She faltered in her actions and stared at Sara-Anne. "Can we help you?"

Sara hastily handed her the letter. When she was sure the woman had read enough she held up the basket. "She wanted me to bring you eggs."

"Eggs?" The woman said peering into the basket. She looked again at Sara-Anne. "You're not from around here are ya?"

"American." Branson said.

Sara glanced at him then back at the woman. "No ma'am, I am as he says."

"Well!" The woman said startling Sara. "Don't look so glum about it. All God's creatures come from many corners of the earth." She was now pushing Sara indoors. "You must thank Ms. Smith for the eggs, it is mighty generous of her. And such fine specimens too."

"Thank you ma'am, I most certainly will."

"Ah, call me Ms. Patmore."