I got up after crying. He had locked it, I was sure, and no one had bothered to open it. I still heard the laughter and 'music.' There was no light. The cats were let out of their box. Lucky for them, they could see better than I could in the dark.

I was given no food. Wondering how long I was going to be in here, I pounded on the door and screamed, "Surely someone will let me out! I cannot stay here for long!" but I received no reply.

I could have counted hours, which I was positive that more than five passed next, but I had no clock and I was in pitch-black darkness. The noises died down after a while, I noticed after a nap, or however long I slept. I thought that it was sometime after midnight, because I knew that drunk men like them did not go to bed until that time.

Carefully, I stood, and as I did I almost stepped on a warm, furry lump. One of the cats, I presumed. As I gripped the door handle to pull myself up, the door flew open. As it did, I stumbled outward onto my stomach. The lights were on, but no one was in sight. Escape. I went back into the closet, pulled a blanket out of the bigger box, put the cats in the emptied space, and opened the brick leading to outside. Surprisingly, it made no noise. I lugged the box up the steps and did not bother closing the 'door.'

But then I heard footsteps. Instinctively, I spun around to see James with what looked like a walking cane sawed off and held like a gun. No, it was a gun. I turned around and ran. Just as I reached the other end of the alley, I heard a bang that swept me off my feet and I fell to the ground; the box acted as a shield. My knuckles, around the bottom of the box, hit the gravel with a silent bang of pain. I heard one of the cats cry.

Then, after I heard descending footsteps, I felt it. Burning, intense, massive… every big word that meant 'big' came to my mind in describing this pain. It was my left foot that could not move. I shook in both pain and fear. My leg began to hurt, even with the start of the pain in the foot. The leg was immovable for a minute.

I then forced myself up with my box despite my numbing knuckles and limped to my right, down the sidewalk blindly into the night. I was in the cold, February dark. Few lights were on. I went into another alley in the quietness. I managed to open the box with trembling fingers and after the cats jumped out, I pulled out another blanket and the pillow. The case of the pillow was pulled off and wrapped around my heel, where I felt sticky, thick fluid coming from. The blanket was pulled around me like a sandwich and I lied down, shivering. I did not care that I was sleeping on the streets now. I did not care that I was in pure darkness.

Well, not pure darkness. Because just then I saw a person coming towards me.

I sat up. "James? If that is you I swear I will hurt you! And I do not care that I am a girl!"

But it was not James. It was a man, all right. He walked with caution; then his figure became outlined as the light of a store across the street was flickered on. I saw that he was wearing a suit.

"Miss, I am not this James that you speak of, but I am here to help you. I am Erik Deveroux." He had the accent of Agatha and the officer and Bart. Like an English person.

"Leave me alone," I demanded bitterly.

"No, I shall not. I saw you fall. I cannot leave you here to either freeze or bleed to death and have a guilty conscience forever, so you are coming with me."

And with that, he scooped me up with ease, but I said, "My box."

"What box?"

"Surely I must own something!" I cried loudly.

"Oh, impossible to see in this dark."

Why was he out at this time, anyway?

"Can you walk?" he asked after he examined my things.

"I…can limp…or try." I pulled on my blanket around me.

"That is good enough. Now, we are going to put everything in this box and I'll carry it. You'll have to use me as a support."

"Where are we going?"

"To my carriage."

A rich man, no doubt.

Mother's family was rich, and then she married to a poorer man named John Daae.

The man took me back to where I had come from, and past. I noticed a general store across the street from the alley in which James shot me.

Now I noticed what just had happened. It hit me the same way that the bullet had: James shot me. My own brother, part of my blood, shot me. He pulled a gun and used it on me. Now my foot was bleeding in throbbing agony and I was so desperate for help that I was letting a perfect stranger take me to his house. What had I done to deserve this?

We neared a carriage with a horse attached to it. The man, well, Mr. Deveroux, assisted me inside. After we were both in, a woman sitting next to me said, "Take us home, Roger."

The pain seemed to grow more on top of what was already there. I did not get to hear who the woman was because everything then became blackened out not by the night, but by my own brain.

I smelled tea. Tea, and alcohol, and perfume… My eyes opened. I had never been in a hospital before besides my birth, and not in one with a golden ceiling with carvings on it.

"Miss?"

It was nowhere near a hospital. It was a room. One of those fancy ones with three sofas and a piano all the way on the other side. I was on one of the sofas, and an old lady with gray, curly hair was holding my wound in her hand with a wet rag in her other. The man, Mr. Deveroux, was calling 'Miss.' The younger woman was seated on a chair. The tea was in my hands. I did not know how they were holding a cup of tea and I had been in a faint.

"All right, miss. We need to know your name," Mr. Deveroux said as he sat in a chair.

"Christine Daae." I threw my head back, so weak my tea almost spilled.

"Eve," the elder woman said. "Go bring my special tearing rag."

"Yes, Mother." Eve left through a large doorway.

"Oh, Mother," Mr. Deveroux said, appearing to be annoyed. "Not your rag. Really."

"Hush, Erik."

My pain seemed to cede my heel a bit. I could hold my head up better. "What rag?"

"This rag she has," Mr. Deveroux told me. "She wants you to tear it while she puts on the medicine. It is a lot of cloths sewn together. Mother, just do it and get it over with."

Eve came back and put a heavy bundle of attached cloths into my hands.

"Does it hurt that much?" I asked, now wishing more than ever that I were not shot.

"It depends on the wound. Well, I'm off. Too much excitement. Good-night, and feel better, Miss Daae." Eve started to leave.

"Thank-you," I said. Eve nodded and went out of the room.

Mrs. Deveroux pulled my attention from Eve. "Well, then, I apologize for keeping you waiting. Let's get on with it, Miss Daae, I'll do the medication right now."

I felt that feeling that I was about to pass out.

"Now, hold still, this will hurt for a wound like this." She held my left heel and the medication-soaked rag. I was holding the other 'special' rag. She touched the medication to my skin.

"YAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" I shrieked as the burning wand spread its 'magic,' and to my great surprise, I had ripped the cloth in two.

"Holy Jesus Christ!" Mr. Deveroux shouted, standing. His mother and I regarded him, shocked. "No, wait.," he said, his hand slapped clumsily to his forehead, "not Holy Jesus Christ. I mean—Oh God!…please forgive me for swearing in your presence, ladies." He began shaking with nervousness and took out a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his forehead. "Excuse me, Mother, Christine," and he walked out of the room.

"Does he often do that?" I asked after a silence passed.

"Put on a show? Yes, but he never swears, from what I hear. But he often gets nervous and puts on a show for me."

There was another pause before I asked, "Do you have any other children?"

"Why, yes. Two more daughters and a son, older than Erik and younger than Eve. They are with their father in France."

"Do you travel?"

"Heavens no, I get sick…" She stopped talking to concentrate on cleaning the scratches on my fingers. "Why are you asking me so many questions?"

"Honestly, I do not know. It is a habit, to ask questions to a stranger."

"Erik does that, too. When he was younger, is still young now, only twenty-three, he used to go with me to the store. When I spoke to someone, such as the storekeeper, he would strike up a conversation and talk to the stranger as though they were old friends! He still talks, never stays quiet." Mrs. Deveroux's eyes were shining. One could tell that she liked to speak about her children. Just then Mr. Deveroux walked back in. "Oh, Mother! I was only six! Little ones do such things, you know."

"Of course I know. I raised five children. I know how a young, curious mind works. Now, if you will excuse me," Mrs. Deveroux yawned, "I shall be getting to bed." Then she cleared her medicines and left I noticed that during our talk she had neatly wrapped my foot in bandage.

Mr. Deveroux was eyeing me again. He knelt next to me again.

"Mr. Deveroux?" I asked. "Am I to sleep here tonight?"

"Erik. I am Erik. Not Mr. Deveroux. That is either my brother or my father. Now, I suppose that you shall sleep here. Unless you wish to have me carry you to the guest bedroom?"

"No, that will not be necessary. I'll stay here."

He took my hand. "You seem to have much tolerance for pain. You are not even quivering the slightest bit. Are you all right?"

"No. Do you want to see how much it hurts?".

"Yes."

I squeezed his hand very hard, releasing my kept pain. Not on purpose, but he did grant me permission to. He himself faltered, bending over and barely letting out sound. "Stop! Oh, stop, please! I understand!" he pleaded quietly in a whisper.

I did, smiling slightly. He was also smiling when his face went back to normal. "I think I'm going to bed now. Do you want a light?"

"No, thank-you."

"Well, would you like something to drink? We have brandy. That takes away pain as does aspirin."

"I have never had brandy before."

"It is a bit strong, I must say, but it helps."

"No, thank you."

"More tea?"

"No, it is alright. No thank you. I am fine."

"All right, then, good night. Or good morning, in this case." Mr. Deveroux stood and let go of my hand as I heard twelve distant chimes from a clock.

"Good night, and thank you very much."

Chapter Seven

No time. Must get going. James has a gun. Pow! The cats? Are they hurt? No, fool, you are. Where is the light coming from? It is midnight…!

I sat up straight. Where was I? Oh, yes, I was in the Deveroux residence.

I just had spent the night with a bunch of strangers.

Kind strangers, I reminded myself.

I realized that I was sitting and then lay down again. What time was it? I felt so tired. Just as I closed my eyes, I heard Mr. Deveroux say, "Are you up, Christine?"

"Yes," I said, my eyes opened.

Mr. Deveroux knelt next to me. He inquired about my foot.

"It hurts a bit." I informed him, "I am not so sure that I can walk on it."

"Perhaps I may help?"

"Well, all right." I peeled the blanket off and sat up. Then, with Mr. Deveroux's aid, I stood. He helped me walk around a little.

These people were beyond 'wealthy' as I had thought so the previous night in the carriage. The living room that I had spent the night in was really one of the sides of a great hall. The ceiling reached as high as two stories, perhaps. And everywhere I turned I saw some carving or painting or decoration. I could only gawk endlessly, feeling rude and small at the same time. Then, after the hall was a kitchen surrounded by two more hallways, to the right a dining room and to the left a smaller eating room, a staircase and a toilet.

They even had an indoor toilet?

Outside the eating room, which Mr. Deveroux told me was for the family when there was no company, there was a small table and two chairs. Mr. Deveroux helped me into one. As he sat in the other, he said, "You know, I do think that we have met before, Miss Daae. I mean, Christine. Well…"

"It is alright. You can call me whatever."

"Christine. You are American. When did you come here?"

"I just came here… I just arrived yesterday."

He put his hand to his chin. "I feel like I know you. Wait, you just came here yesterday. On what ship did you come?"

"The Magic."

"I work on that ship! I must have seen you somewhere. What class were you traveling?"

"Third."

"Were you in my lifeboat when we had that drill?"

The officer! It was him!

"Yes!"

"You sat next to me… Yes!" He stood. "I remember now!" Then he sat again. "Excuse me. It is just strange that we should meet again. Why did I not realize it?"

"For the same reason that I did not, either."

He smiled and changed the conversation. "Where will you live?"

I thought about that one for a minute. Where did I live now? "Well, I do not know. I made no plans, which I now find very stupid of me as I have nowhere to go."

"Do you have anywhere in mind? Somewhere in specific?"

Did I? But where? There was no one to go to, no place to go.

"Or you can stay here and get yourself some sort of work."

"I don't want to be a burden upon you and your family," I said firmly.

Then Eve appeared in the doorway. "Top of the morning, shall I go make breakfast? It is eight past nine," she announced cheerfully. "Look how precise I am. Erik's ship behavior is wearing onto me."

"I shall help," I said, attempting to stand.

"No, you shall not," Mr. Deveroux said as he gently pushed me back into the chair. "You can barely walk."

"Christine, I think that you should dress first," Eve suggested.

"Where is my box?"

"In the guest bedroom upstairs."

"I shall go."

"Not alone," Mr. Deveroux insisted.

"You wish to—" I said.

"No!" he stammered, blushing. "Absolutely not! No, no, no! I mean, I can take you to the room, but I do not have to stay…"

I smiled, feeling a bit sorry for implying what I just had implied. "Thank you." He helped me out of the dining room. Eve began breakfast.

At the stairs, though, we stopped and looked up. Then, without my notification or his sister's, Mr. Deveroux picked me up and carried me up the stairs. "Sorry about that," he said sheepishly as he set my down on my own foot.

There was one hallway going right. Another hallway crisscrossed this first one, with a bathroom at the end and the other going further to my right. To my left was a short hallway, and it stopped at a large window. A plant was sitting at the left of the window. Mr. Deveroux took me to the right door in the right hallway. Behind the door was a bedroom with a bed sticking out into the open space from the left wall. The windows were in the back of the room. A bureau was on the right wall, all the way back adjacent to the windows. Then there was a closet and another dresser on that wall.

"If you should need anything," Mr. Deveroux said, "call my sister."

"She is making breakfast," I said.

"Well," he decided, "don't be needing help!"

"All right, thank you."

He closed the door.

As I did my business, I thought about where I wanted to go. There were so many places in the world, and it was their money I would be traveling by. I thought well.

Finally done, I called Mr. Deveroux, who then helped me to breakfast. He did not lift me down the stairs this time.

"I want to go back to America," I proclaimed at breakfast.

"Well, I can take her when I bring the Magic back to America," Mr. Deveroux offered.

"You will?" I asked. I did not know why I really wanted to go back home. As simple as this, it was: I did not want to be near James and his drunken friends. I would rather live the rest of my life alone.

"She is leaving in a week, the Magic," Mr. Deveroux said.

"What will I do in a week?" I pondered.

"You are our guest now, so act like it," Mrs. Deveroux responded.

"But when I am on the ship," I said, "Shall I not need someone to help me move around?" I was looking at Eve.

"No." She shook her head. "I cannot make it. Marcie, Annie and Edward are coming home with Father, and I need to be around here."

All eyes turned to Mr. Deveroux.

"Well, I have got my own duties!"

"There is no need to shout, Erik," Mrs. Deveroux said gently.

"Sorry."

"And anyway, this is all nonsense." She got up to the telephone on the wall and dialed a number. "Hello? Doctor?" she started. "Could you get me a pair of crutches? …Susan Deveroux…. Seventeen Gloaming Boulevard…Oh, no sir, they are not for me…All right, hold a minute." She asked me to stand and then she measured my height. Then she returned to the telephone. "Five feet, one inch…. All right… Today? I shall be home…All right…thank you, sir. Good-day." She hung up.

The day passed all too quickly. They promised me that they would take me out to town tomorrow. Today, I got accustomed to their house. Upstairs was at first a tangled mess of doors and such, but I got used to it. Mr. Deveroux's and his brother's bedrooms were on the wall lining the side yard, and Eve Deveroux's room was facing the front yard. Next to the stairs was a trap door to the attic, and behind the stairs was Annie Deveroux's room. Marcie Deveroux's room was behind Annie's. There was a cellar, underneath the kitchen where extra food was kept, like a pantry. It was very cold down there, but the cats loved it.

The crutches were delivered after dinner. I spent the afternoon practicing a normal-looking walk on them. When I wanted to go up or down stairs, Mr. Deveroux helped me. All in all, they did not mind that I was a stranger from America with barely any money. They came to my every need.

After dessert of chocolate pudding, after I went up to bed, with Mr. Deveroux's help, he went back downstairs to talk to his mother. Somehow, I suspected it was about me.

"You enjoyed the day?" Mrs. Deveroux asked.

"Yes. She is a nice person. Do you not feel sorry for her?"

"Why?"

"Well, you see, she has no money. I just think that for someone like her, it is not… well… it isn't fair. I just feel sorry."

"I wish your father could say a few nice things like that."

"You don't think he would be upset over this?"

"He might."

"But he will never see her here," Mr. Deveroux went on eagerly. "We don't have to tell her what kind of money she has. She is American, and he knows nothing about American society so she can possibly be one to him."

"Erik, you do say the strangest things…"

"Father already has a few bad things to say about me. Let us not give him another. She's not worth his gossip."

I left to my room. I felt special, for everything that he had just said. I did not know what his father was like for me to be kept a secret, but that was not my concern. I was now cared for again since Father's death.

The next morning I gave myself a good bath in their upstairs bathroom and put on a nice dress. After breakfast, we went walking, Mr. Deveroux, his sister and I. They took me to friends' houses, stores, and things like that. We ate dinner at a restaurant. Many people seemed to care little as to how I looked with the crutches.

At supper, we relayed back to Mrs. Deveroux what we did that day. I did not bring up that I had overheard Mr. Deveroux's conversation with his mother the last night.

The next morning I made breakfast. And after six years of experience cooking meals for five men and myself, that breakfast was good, or so I was told. Eve said that it was superb, but she did not like the fact that I was alone in the kitchen without help for my foot. After she and her mother cleaned the table, Mrs. Deveroux rewrapped my foot. Then, when everyone else had something to do, I went outside to the garden and sat at the table. I just sat there, thinking about the future. My future. What was I to do in America again? Where was I to live? Who was I to talk to? Why was I going to America again? Why could I not go somewhere else in Europe? Could I go somewhere else in Europe? What if I stayed here with the Deveroux's and earned a house?

"Good morning," Mr. Deveroux said from behind me. As I turned, he sat next to me. "What are you doing?"

"I was thinking about why I want to go back to America."

"Why not?"

"Well, you see, I left home to find a better life in Europe."

"So stay here," Mr. Deveroux said as though the advice should have been easy to see.

"But James…"

"Oh, I see. You first wanted to get away from your home, now James."

I pursed my lips. "Yes, you can say that."

"And Michael Daae is also your brother?"

"Yes."

"Older or younger?"

"I am the youngest."

"As am I. I, uh, also know about your father. I am sorry. I am rather a nosy person."

I thought back to that conversation I had had with Michael, and Mr. Deveroux had heard everything. "Well, you are like me in that way, as well. I also get very hysterical."

"That is not like me. Well, only on occasion will I ever shout in shock, like when you tore Mother's rag. She has been trying to get some poor wounded chap to tear it apart while she puts that magical medicine since before I was born. Some of it used to be Eve's old aprons as a child."

"When I was thirteen, my best friend promised we would go to each other's weddings. I forgot about it until she reminded me when we were eighteen, when she so-called had fallen in love. I remember that day. Meg would not tell me whom it was that she liked. Then, two years ago, she married my brother, Michael, and she did it in secret. I threw a fit for my father. All she left me were those two cats I have."

"Meg is the girl you were arguing with on the rescue ship?" he asked.

"She is."

He thought, and took up some time in doing that. Well, he looked like he was thinking. "Do you like to travel?"

"I have only done it once. I have lived in one place, gone to one school, lived with the same people, doing the same things. We lived in New Jersey. My trip to New York to the Magic was my first time out of the state. I have only crossed the sea once after now. Why do you ask?"

"Some people do not like to travel, like my mother. She only brings herself about England and nowhere else. I, on the other hand, cross the Atlantic quite a few times a year."

"I know that. You are an officer," I stated.

"Do you have a job? No, wait, never mind." He probably just remembered that I had no home to work in. "What are you going to do in America?"

"Go to where I came from."

"There is no one in your house now, by the way?"

"No, just the rest of my things and my mother's and father's. Thomas and James left every piece of furniture, just took their possessions."

"Who is Thomas?"

"My brother."

"Another? Are there any more that I should know about?" Mr. Deveroux was smirking slightly.

"No. Michael is the oldest, then James, then Thomas, then me."

"You do not at all resemble Michael."

"Actually, I look very much like my mother, but she had blond hair, where Michael and Thomas get it from. James takes from Father."

"What happened to your mother?"

This one question was always my least favorite. People always asked me this one, like it was a curse on me forever and ever. They would ask me at school, "Christine, what happened to your mother? Oh, I am awfully sorry." And so on. And I would have to stand there, holding my hands together nervously and tell them that I did not know. Not until I was older did my father tell me why everyone else had a mother and I did not. I had heard James' remarks about how I had killed Mother, but I never believed it until Father told me. Then, when The Question came up again, I would stand there, holding my hands together nervously and tell them that my mother was dead, and the reason why.

I sat still, looking at my hands and how they held each other in anxiety and said, "She died giving birth to me."

"Horrible."

There was another hesitation.

"Too many deaths in your family."

I stared at my lap. At least now I was receiving sympathy from someone.

"When did your brothers leave the house?" Mr. Deveroux wanted to know.

"After my father's death. In fact, the day right after he died."

"You speak of your father's death over and over again. Can I know what happened?"

"I wish not to talk of it now," I clarified. "Do you have to prepare for the upcoming voyage?"

"Yes, I have to pack. I always do that the day before. I also need to sign on. That I shall do on Saturday."

"How long have you sailed?"

"Three years."

"Why is my brother third and you are sixth? You do have a year of experience more than he does."

"That is what he signed on for."

"But you have more experience."

"And that is what I signed on for."

"Oh."

"And we work on different ships."

"That makes a difference."

I decided to change the subject. Mr. Deveroux did not look like he wanted to talk about his work anymore. I also wanted to know what he did with his money and he still lived with his parents, but that was none of my business. We began to talk about snow and why it did not freeze saltwater and why it had not come yet, in London or New Jersey since Christmas. Mr. Deveroux mentioned that we should have snow soon in England, but he did not know exactly when. I told him that I loved the snow and the peaceful feeling it gives.

"Speaking of snow," Mr. Deveroux started, "are you not cold?" He took his arm off of my shoulders.

When was his arm there, anyway?

"Let us go inside." He helped me out of my seat. As his hands, warmer than mine, touched mine, he said, "You are cold. Here," he gave me my crutches, "go in. I'll be there in a moment."

Inside the parlor from the patio, I shivered. Eve passed by and asked how cold it was outside. I said, "Cold enough to make me shiver." Then she asked me where Erik was.

"Outside still," I replied.

"Erik!" she screamed through the back door. "Get yourself in here before you turn to ice!"

He came in, insisting that he was not going to freeze. She pointed to me, and pointed out how I was badly shivering.

"Just sit down, the two of you, I'll get you some tea," she ordered as she marched to the kitchen.

Mr. Deveroux began to laugh. "That is the typical Eve I know," he said. "Always jumping to conclusions."

"Always?"

"Yes. Unlike me." He sat up with false arrogance, knowing that what he said was not true.

"Not true. You jumped to a conclusion when you saw me shot."

"But I was right." He grinned still.

"She is right, too. I am chilled to the bone."

"You are not, you just think you are. Do not let her tell you how you feel. Wait!" He laughed. "What am I saying? She is always right!"

"Of course she does. She knows how you work. She is older."

"You are right."

"So is she."

"Women," he muttered under his breath.

"Always right," I remarked proudly and gleefully.

"Not fair. And men have more rights."

"You have said it. I could not have said it any better than you did." I was beaming.

In walked Eve, with two mugs of tea. "The last thing you, Christine, need is a case of pneumonia to add to your physical condition. And if you two featherheads looked out, you would see that it is snowing."

Surely enough, as we turned our heads to the window, there were little flakes of white falling down.

"Are you happy?" Mr. Deveroux asked.

"Quite." I replied. I loved snow.

Mr. Deveroux sipped his tea, and noted that I hadn't touched my own cup. I picked it up and drank some. "Now I did," I pointed out devilishly and cleverly.

"If I put you and Eve in a contest to see who was smarter," Mr. Deveroux told me, "you would win."

"Not so!" Eve contradicted.

"So so!" Mr. Deveroux said defiantly.

"So so?" I repeated, fakely bewildered. "I do not think that there is such an expression in the English language."

"For Erik, there is everything. He never goes by the limits."

"I do," he opposed his sister, " or I would be outside now."

"No, your instincts would make you bring yourself in," I said, opposing them both.

"Erik lacks instincts." Eve was firm in her words, but her eyes were laughing.

"Stop hurting my feelings," Mr. Deveroux choked, pretending to cry.

"He also has no feelings."

"Not so."

"I am joking, Erik! Have you no sense of humor?"

"I do, can you not see me acting to cry? I told you, Christine, you are smarter than she."

"Do you often brawl?" I inquired, once again, a question having nothing to do with the subject, almost.

"Surely, Christine," Eve began, "have you yourself not argued and fought with your brothers?"

"Yes, but they did the talking while I would ignore. They often teased me, as I am the only girl in my family."

"I am assuming that your mother passed away?"

"When Christine was born, yes," Mr. Deveroux added to the now answered question. "It is too long of a story to explain."

"I wish not to speak of it," I sighed quietly.

Mrs. Deveroux appeared. "Gather your coats, we are going out for dinner. Eve and I do not feel like cooking."

"It is snowing," Mr. Deveroux and I said together.

"That does make a difference," Mrs. Deveroux seemed to slump as she thought.

"I refuse to cook. I will not," Eve announced.

"I will," I offered.

A chorus of three British "No!"s followed as quick as a snowflake could drop to the ground.

"I will not poison you."

"Your foot, Christine, your foot." Eve sounded like she was begging me. "Please, stay off of it! You worry me whenever you stand on it."

"I can cook," I persisted.

"I can help." Mr. Deveroux sounded like me.

The two women before me began laughing.

"I recall the last time that Erik cooked, Marcie got sick," Eve said.

"Not funny," Mr. Deveroux said sternly. "And anyway, she'll be doing the cooking, I'll be doing the moving and the lifting and the helping."

"Start, then, I am rather hungry," Mrs. Deveroux said. As I walked out with Mr. Deveroux behind me, I heard Mrs. Deveroux say, "Eve, you do tease your brother too much."

"Well, that meat or whatever it was tasted like coal."

"Evelyn!"

After dinner, I took it upon my own initiative to tidy up their bedchambers. This time, Eve did not protest. She went to the sitting room to knit. Her mother cleaned up the kitchen while Mr. Deveroux ran some errands in town.

I started with Eve's room, then Mrs. Deveroux's, the master bedroom. Theirs were easy, because they kept the rooms neat already. But Mr. Deveroux's room looked as though a storm had raged through it, perhaps a sea storm if he had to choose. I did not care, though, because I had seen worse, like Thomas' after a girl he had liked moved away years before.

As I finished up, Mr. Deveroux himself showed up from behind. Right behind me.

"Do you enjoy cleaning rooms?"

"Yes, when there is nothing else to do. I am very used to house cleaning."

"Too bad you could not stay here. You can stay and clean my room always, as no one else does and we do need a maid. But," he said, changing his tone, "I already have your ticket to America." He grinned.

I jumped up. "May I see?"

"No."

I scowled. "Why not? I have cleaned this whole upstairs and made your lunch-"

"There is something on it that Mother, Eve and I wish to keep secret."

I did not know of anything that could possibly be a secret on a ship's passenger ticket, but I relented. "Fine. Be like that. See if I care. You know, I can always undo my work here."

"Not that it would make me do anything to make me show you your ticket. I like my room as it was before, although a tidy up once in a while is nice."

"You are very odd."

"I can say that much about you."

There was a moment of silence.

Mrs. Deveroux, out of nowhere, said, "Did you get it?"

"Yes. Eve has it."

"Good. Both of them?"

"Who else is coming?" I asked.

"Nobody," they answered in unison. "Just me," Mr. Deveroux continued. "I signed on today."

"Then what do you mean, 'both'?"

"You'll see."

…………………………………………………

This was a tad bit longer, I know. But that's a good thing, right?

R+R please!