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Extra info for Dawn O' Hara - The Girl Who Laughed
I rattle away happily, the plot unfolding itself in some mysterious way. Sis opens the door a little and peers in. She is dressed for the street. "Dawn dear, I'm going to the dressmaker's. Frieda's upstairs cleaning the bathroom, so take a little squint at the roast now and then, will you? See that it doesn't burn, and that there's plenty of gravy. Oh, and Dawn--tell the milkman we want an extra half-pint of cream to-day. The tickets are on the kitchen shelf, back of the clock. " "Mhmph," I reply.
He did not come back that night, or the next, or the next, or the next. In desperation I went to see the men at the office. No, they had not seen him. Was there anything that they could do? they asked. I smiled, and thanked them, and said, oh, Peter was so absent-minded! No doubt he had misdirected his letters, or something of the sort. And then I went back to the flat to resume the horrible waiting. One week later he turned up at the old office which had cast him off. He sat down at his former desk and began to write, breathlessly, as he used to in the days when all the big stories fell to him.
Once I ate halfway through a melting, fluffy, peach-bedecked plate of something before I discovered that it was only another egg in disguise. "Feel like eating a great big dinner to-day, Kidlet? "Norah would ask in the morning as she stood at my bedside (with a glass of egg-something in her hand, of course). "--horror and disgust shuddering through my voice--"Eat! Ugh! Don't s-s-speak of it to me. And for pity's sake tell Frieda to shut the kitchen door when you go down, will you? " And I would turn my face to the wall.