Life and Death of Harriett Frean

Life and Death of Harriett Frean
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Title: Life and Death of Harriett Frean
Author: May Sinclair
Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9298] [Yes, we are more than
one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on September 18,
2003]
Edition: 10

Language: English
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LIFE AND DEATH
OF
HARRIETT FREAN
1922
BY
MAY SINCLAIR

I
"Pussycat, Pussycat, where have you been?" "I've been to London, to
see the Queen." "Pussycat, Pussycat, what did you there?" "I caught a
little mouse under the chair,"
Her mother said it three times. And each time the Baby Harriett
laughed. The sound of her laugh was so funny that she laughed again at
that; she kept on laughing, with shriller and shriller squeals.
"I wonder why she thinks it's funny," her mother said.
Her father considered it. "I don't know. The cat perhaps. The cat and
the Queen. But no; that isn't funny."
"She sees something in it we don't see, bless her," said her mother.
Each kissed her in turn, and the Baby Harriett stopped laughing
suddenly.
"Mamma, did Pussycat see the Queen?"
"No," said Mamma. "Just when the Queen was passing the little mouse
came out of its hole and ran under the chair. That's what Pussycat saw."
Every evening before bedtime she said the same rhyme, and Harriett
asked the same question.
When Nurse had gone she would lie still in her cot, waiting. The door

would open, the big pointed shadow would move over the ceiling, the
lattice shadow of the fireguard would fade and go away, and Mamma
would come in carrying the lighted candle. Her face shone white
between her long, hanging curls. She would stoop over the cot and lift
Harriett up, and her face would be hidden in curls. That was the
kiss-me-to-sleep kiss. And when she had gone Harriett lay still again,
waiting. Presently Papa would come in, large and dark in the firelight.
He stooped and she leapt up into his arms. That was the kiss-me-awake
kiss; it was their secret.
Then they played. Papa was the Pussycat and she was the little mouse
in her hole under the bed-clothes. They played till Papa said, "No
more!" and tucked the blankets tight in.
"Now you're kissing like Mamma----"
Hours afterwards they would come again together and stoop over the
cot and she wouldn't see them; they would kiss her with soft, light
kisses, and she wouldn't know.
She thought: To-night I'll stay awake and see them. But she never did.
Only once she dreamed that she heard footsteps and saw the lighted
candle, going out of the room; going, going away.
The blue egg stood on the marble top of the cabinet where you could
see it from everywhere; it was supported by a gold waistband, by gold
hoops and gold legs, and it wore a gold ball with a frill round it like a
crown. You would never have guessed what was inside it. You touched
a spring in its waistband and it flew open, and then it was a workbox.
Gold scissors and thimble and stiletto sitting up in holes cut in white
velvet.
The blue egg was the first thing she thought of when she came into the
room. There was nothing like that in Connie Hancock's Papa's house. It
belonged to Mamma.
Harriett thought: If only she could have a birthday and wake up and
find that the blue egg belonged to _her_----
Ida, the wax doll, sat on the drawing-room sofa, dressed ready for the
birthday. The darling had real person's eyes made of glass, and real
eyelashes and hair. Little finger and toenails were marked in the wax,
and she smelt