Árdís - 01.01.1962, Blaðsíða 16

14
ÁRDÍ S
“How are you getting on with your lessons, Lily,” Marian
asked the little girl.
“Alright, Miss Vale,” answered Lily.
“Her teacher is very pleased with her,” enthused Mrs. Ferber.
“She’s going to be in the Festival. And it was you that got us to
start her.”
“I’m so glad she’s doing so well,” Marian said. She felt a glow
of warmth in her spirit. One thing she seemed to have done right.
At the bus stop was Mr. Walker. Appearances were against
him. His children looked half-starved, his wife worked, yet he had
a number of houses which he rented. He was usually cold-shoul-
dered by the crowd at the bus stop, and seemed almost grateful
when Marian addressed him with a commonplace remark about
the weather. Mrs. Wilson came running at the last minute, waving
her shopping bag to attract the bus driver’s attention.
“Mother is so poorly again,” she coníided to Marian, as she
pushed down the bus to stand beside her seat for a moment, “She
has been asking about you.”
“I’ll drop in and see her tomorrow,” Marian promised.
“She’ll be so glad,” Mrs. Wilson breathed as she passed on
down the bus.
Marian leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. A
little breath of distaste snuffed out the faint glow of warmth in
her heart. She didn’t really want to go and listen to Mrs. Burns’
recitations of her aches and pains. But she’d go.
As usual the bus was full of Saturday shoppers, mostly women,
and as usual it was humming with the customary small talk. The
weather was discussed, the canning, the prices, the fuel situation.
Some unknown quantity was being blamed for the evils of the
times, and yet those that squabbled most looked the most com-
fortable. Those who said the least were the ones who looked as if
they might be the step-children of fortune, but they sat quietly,
listening to the hum.
Marian also listened to the hum, not speaking. She was lucky
in having found a seat with a stranger who did not expect her to