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He stared at ered thoughts in his head As always he had places to go and patients to see, but this tiency at home And he did, you bet he did!

I often looked at my mother's third husband and wished he were my own blood father, but at that moment when he canceled his appointments to save Bart--and Mom--I ktew in all the ways that counted that he was my true father

That evening, shortly after dinner, Mom went to her room to work on her book Cindy was in bed and Bart was out in the yard when Dad and I donned warm sweaters and slipped out the front door

It was , cold with damp as we strod

e side by side toward the huge shadowy ates "Dr Christopher Sheffield," said Dad into the black box attached to the side of the gates "I want to see the lady of the house" As the gates swung silently open, he asked why I'd never learned the woed, as if she didn't have a name, and as far as I was concerned, didn't need one Bart had never called her anything but Grandmother

At the front door Dad banged the brass knocker Finally we heard shuffling noises in the hall, and John Amos Jackson admitted us

"Our lady tires easily," said John Aaunteyed, his hands tre to upset her"

I stared at the way Dad looked at hi and perplexed as the bald-headedus to enter a room whose door he'd opened

The lady in black was seated in her rocking chair

"I' at her intensely "My name is Dr Christopher Sheffield and I live next door This is my eldest son, Jory, whom you have met before"

She seeestured us in and indicated the chairs ere to use We perched tentatively, not intending to stay very long Seconds stretched by that seemed like hours before Dad leaned forward to speak: "You have a lovely hoain at all the elaborate chairs and other fine furnishings, and he stared at the paintings too "I have the strangest sense of deja vu," he murmured almost to himself

Her black-veiled head bowed low Her hands spread expansively, supplicating, it see for her lack of words I knew she spoke English perfectly well Why was she faking?

Except for those aristocratic hands with all the glittering rings she sat so still, but her hands fluttered, knotted the pearls I knew she wore beneath her black dress His eyes shot her way, and quickly she sat on her hands

"You don't speak English?" Dad asked in a tight voice

Vigorously she nodded, indicating she could understand English His brows knitted Puzzledlooking again "Well, to get to the point of our visit, est son Bart are very faifts and feed him sweets betweenfor her to give her naain I want you to send his that deserve punish between Bart and our authority When you indulge hi his darndest to see her hands--as she did her best to keep them hidden