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 WHAT TO EAT
DURING CANCER TREATMENT

What To Eat_INT_final.indd 1 8/17/18 1:37 PM

What To Eat_INT_final.indd 2 8/17/18 1:37 PM
 More than 130 Recipes to Help You Cope

WHAT TO EAT
D U R ING CA N C E R T R E AT M E N T

Jeanne Besser and Barbara L. Grant, MS, RDN, CSO

with the American Cancer Society

SECOND E DI TI O N

cancer.org iii

What To Eat_INT_final.indd 3 8/17/18 1:37 PM

 Published by the American Cancer Society Photography by Angie Mosier
250 Williams Street NW, Atlanta, GA 30303-1002 Food styling by Jeanne Besser
Copyright ©2019 American Cancer Society Design and composition by Katie Jennings Campbell
First edition 2009. Second edition 2019. Indexing by Bob Land
Nutritional analysis by Madelyn Wheeler, MS, RD
Printed in Canada
American Cancer Society
5 4 3 2 1 19 20 21 22 23
Editorial and Production

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under Senior Vice President, Cancer Control Programs and
copyright reserved above, no part of this publication Services: Chuck Westbrook
may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a Managing Director, Content: Eleni Berger
retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by
any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, Senior Director, Journals and Book Publishing:
recording, or otherwise) without the prior written Esmeralda Galán Buchanan
permission of the publisher. Book Publishing Manager: Vanika Jordan, MSPub
Senior Editor, Book Publishing: Jill Russell
Recipes shown on cover, clockwise from top: Chickpea
and Sweet Potato Curry, p. 243; Cranberry-Lime Medical and Nutritional Review
Granita, p. 148; Date and Fruit Bread, p. 109; Miso- Managing Director, Nutrition and Physical Activity:
Chicken Soup, p. 50. Back cover, clockwise from Colleen Doyle, MS, RD
bottom: Raspberry Chia Pudding, p. 121; Rosemary
Director, Cancer Information: Amy Sherrod, RN, MSN,
Sweet and Spicy Nuts, p. 222; Carrot-Ginger Drink,
CPNP
p. 34; Lemon-Herb Tilapia Packets, p. 76.
Medical Editor: Mamta Kalidas, MD
Additional Photo Credits: p. 6, Tatiana Bralnina/ Associate Editor: Mahal Lynn Gadd, MSN, MBA, RN, OCN
shutterstock.com; p. 9, baibaz/shutterstock.com; p. 10,
Brooke Becker/shutterstock.com; p. 11, Africa Studio/ Quantity discounts on bulk purchases of this book are
shutterstock.com; p. 17 (top to bottom), Lana Langlois/ available. For information, please send an e-mail to
shutterstock.com, Hong Vo/shutterstock.com; p. 18, [email protected]. For general inquiries about
eugena-klykova/shutterstock.com; p.19, Andrei Kuzmik/ American Cancer Society books, send an e-mail to
shutterstock.com; p.21, squarelogo/shutterstock.com; p. [email protected].
248, Foxys Forest Manufacture/shutterstock.com; p. 255
(top to bottom), Dan Thornberg/shutterstock.com, AG-
For more information about cancer, contact your
PHOTOS/shutterstock.com, Sashkin/shutterstock.com,
American Cancer Society at 800-227-2345 or cancer.org.
Lipskiy/shutterstock.com, Tatiana Popova/shutterstock.
com, Africa Studio/shutterstock.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

is available.

What To Eat_INT_final.indd 4 8/17/18 1:37 PM

 CONTENTS
Introduction 1

WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW 7

Advice for the Caregiver 8
Food Safety During Cancer Treatment 10
Snacking, Staying Hydrated, and the “Survival Kit” 17
Answers to Common Questions 20
Vitamin and Mineral Deficiencies During Treatment 23
Weight Gain During Treatment 26

RECIPES 29

N Nausea 29
D Diarrhea 63
C Constipation 95
TS Trouble Swallowing 129
SM Sore Mouth or Throat 159
WL Unintentional Weight Loss 189
TC Taste Changes 219

AFTER TREATMENT: EATING WELL, STAYING WELL 249

Bibliography 259
Recipes by Side Effect 261
Metric Equivalents 267
Index 268
About the Authors 276

cancer.org v

What To Eat_INT_final.indd 5 8/17/18 1:37 PM

 NAUSEA N

34
Carrot-Ginger Drink N C TC

36
Skillet Chicken with Root Vegetables N C SM

37
Quinoa-Sweet Potato Patties N C

39
Spring Minestrone N C SM

40
Chicken Broth Two Ways N D SM

42
Egg Roll-Up with Parsley and Dill N D SM

44
Mini Muffin Tin Chicken-Ricotta Meatballs N D TC

45
Pineapple-Mango Slushies N TC

47
Steamed Chicken with Vegetables and Rice N D

48
Pumpkin-Ginger Mini Muffins N TC

49
One-Bowl Gluten-Free Banana Pancakes N D SM

50
Miso-Chicken Soup N TC

52
Ginger-Lime Spritzer N TC

53
Blueberry-Corn Mini Muffins N C

54
Lemon-Ginger Biscotti N D TC

56
Mushroom Broth N D SM

57
On-the-Go Snack Mix N C WL

59
Strawberry-Watermelon-Mint Cooler N TC

60
Chicken Noodle Soup N D SM

DIARRHEA D

67
Miso Glazed Salmon D TC

68
Chicken Congee N D TS SM

70
Rehydration Drinks N D

vi American Cancer Society

What To Eat_INT_final.indd 6 8/17/18 1:37 PM

 73
Fish in “Tomato Water” D TC

74
Vegetable Broth N D SM

75
Baked Rice Balls N D

76
Lemon-Herb Tilapia Packets N D TC

78
Oatmeal-Banana-Peach Smoothie N D TS SM

79
Brown Sugar–Oatmeal Muffins N D

80
Banana Dutch Baby D SM

82
Fruited Gelatin N D

83
Cran-Apple Slushie N D SM

85 Shrimp Dumplings with Dipping Sauce D TC

86 Chicken and Aromatic Yellow Rice D TC

87 Lemon Rice N D

88 Crispy Crunchy Fish Fingers D

90 Citrus Tilapia D TC

91 Mashed Potato–Chicken Patties N D SM

93 Herb-Flecked Popovers N D

CONSTIPATION C

101 Tandoori Turkey Kebabs with Herb Salad C TC

102 Super-Veggie Fried Rice C TC

103 Socca (Chickpea Flatbread) C WL

104 Chicken Tagine with Carrots, Prunes, and Chickpeas C WL TC

106 Whole Grain Penne with Roasted Eggplant and Tomatoes C WL TC

107 Vegetable, Lentil, and Farro St-oup C TC

109 Date and Fruit Bread C WL

cancer.org vii

What To Eat_INT_final.indd 7 8/17/18 1:37 PM

 110 Spinach and Brown Rice “Pie” C TC

111 Bulgur Salad with Dried Fruit C TC

113 Fig, Apple, and Apricot Compote C WL TC

114 Date Jam C TC

115 Multigrain Almond Butter and Date Jam Sandwich C WL TC

116 Crunchy Roasted Lemon-Garlic Chickpeas C WL TC

118 Fiber-Filled Trail Mix C WL TC

119 Honey-Bran Muffins C

121 Raspberry Chia Pudding C TC

122 Granola with Almond, Apples, and Ginger C WL TC

123 Tuna Salad C TC

125 Baked Sweet Potato and Beet Chips C TC

TROUBLE SWALLOWING TS

133
Creamy Avocado Soup TS SM WL TC

134
Fresh Mint Milk Shake TS SM WL TC

135
Pressure Cooker Potato-Leek Soup C TS SM

Egg Drop Soup

136 N D TS SM

138
Chilled Cucumber and Yogurt Soup TS SM

139
Golden Milk N TS TC

140
Chai Applesauce D TS

142
Cranberry-Pear Compote TS TC

143
Roasted Cauliflower Soup TS SM

144
Cantaloupe-Peach Soup TS TC

146
Sweet Potato and Cashew Purée TS SM WL

147
Mango Lassi TS TC

viii American Cancer Society

What To Eat_INT_final.indd 8 8/17/18 1:37 PM

 148
Cranberry-Lime Granita N D TS

150
Vanilla Juice Glass Pudding TS SM TC

151
PB and Banana Smoothie TS SM WL

153
Chilled Beet Soup with Yogurt-Dill Swirl TS TC

154
Roasted Root Vegetable Soup TS SM

155
White Bean and Roasted Garlic Dip C TS WL TC

156
Love Your Greens Shake TS TC

SORE MOUTH OR THROAT SM

162
Blueberry–Cottage Cheese Pancakes SM

Slow Cooker Split Pea and Potato Soup

164 C TS SM

165
Chocolate–Peanut Butter Balls D SM WL

167
Bread Pudding with Butternut Squash, Mushrooms, and Spinach SM WL TC

Overnight Refrigerator Oats with Peaches and Honey

168 C SM

169
Hummus-Egg Salad TS SM WL

Raspberry- and Cream Cheese–Stuffed French Toast

171 SM WL

172
Creamy Polenta D C TS SM

173
Carrot-Ginger Soup C SM TC

175
Scrambled Eggs with Cream Cheese and Chives TS SM WL

176
Slow-Cooked Oatmeal C SM

177
Fruity Yogurt Bark N TS SM WL

179
Fresh Strawberry Juice Glass Pudding SM TC

180
Peanut Butter–Banana “Ice Cream” D TS SM WL

181
Noodle Kugel SM WL TC

183
Farro “Risotto” with Chicken, Portobellos, and Spinach C SM WL TC

184
Rosemary–White Bean Soup C TS SM WL

cancer.org ix

What To Eat_INT_final.indd 9 8/17/18 1:37 PM

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 185
Mini Chicken Pot Pies SM WL

186
Simple Herb Risotto C SM TC

UNINTENTIONAL WEIGHT LOSS WL

193
Acai-Banana-Raspberry Smoothie Bowl C WL TC

194
Fortified Milk WL

195
Banana-Yogurt Quick Bread C WL

197
Creamy Mac and Cheese with Broccoli C WL TC

198
Almond-Date Energy Orbs C WL TC

199
Spinach-Artichoke Dip Quesadillas C WL TC

200
Turkey-Quinoa Not-Too-Sloppy Joes WL TC

202
Beef and Spinach Lasagna with Parmesan Sauce WL TC

203
Good Old-Fashioned Cheese Balls C WL

204
Mozzarella, Pesto, and Roasted Red Pepper Panini C WL TC

206
Fruity Chicken Salad C WL TC
207
Spaghetti with Silky Avocado-Basil Sauce C WL TC

209
Breakfast “Banana Split” C WL TC
210
Double-Cheese Polenta “Plank” Pizzas C WL TC

211
Peanut Noodles WL TC
213
Chocolate Chip–Raisin Granola Bars C WL TC

214
Cheesy French Toast WL TC

215
Peanut Butter–Banana-Chocolate Panini SM WL TC

216
Grain Bowl with Spinach, Pickled Carrots, and Fried Egg C WL TC

x American Cancer Society

What To Eat_INT_final.indd 10 8/17/18 1:37 PM

 TASTE CHANGES TC

222 Rosemary Sweet and Spicy Nuts C WL TC

224 Samosa Quesadillas WL TC

225 Gazpacho C TC

226 Shrimp Puttanesca C TC

228 Strawberry-Blueberry “Mocktail” N TC

229 Tofu and Vegetable Red Curry WL TC

231 Lemon Chicken Sheet Pan Dinner C TC

232 Southwest Bean Dip C TC

233 Mulligatawny Soup WL TC
235 Beet-Horseradish Hummus WL TC

236 Mediterranean Egg and Tuna Pitas WL TC

237 Curried Chicken and Rice C WL TC

239 Fusilli with Chicken, Leek, and Lemon WL TC

240 Tuna-Noodle Casserole with Lemon and Dill WL TC

241 Grilled Cheese and Cranberry Sandwich WL TC

243 Chickpea–Sweet Potato Curry C WL TC

244 Vegetarian Roll-Up C WL TC

245 Chai Latte WL TC

247 Arugula and Watermelon Salad C TC

cancer.org xi

What To Eat_INT_final.indd 11 8/17/18 1:37 PM

 xii Introduction

What To Eat_INT_final.indd 12 8/17/18 1:37 PM

 INTRODUCTION

If you are reading this, you or someone you know is going through or preparing for cancer
treatment. A cancer diagnosis is life changing, and this can be a stressful and difficult time, a
time often filled with challenges and change. Not everyone experiences side effects, and for
those who do, not everyone experiences the same side effects or experiences them in the same
way. A person going through cancer treatment has unique nutritional needs and issues related
to eating; what’s more, these needs may change throughout the cancer experience. Your
appetite may change from day to day. Foods may not taste or smell the way they did before
treatment, and you may be surprised by some of the foods that appeal to you. You may have to
deal with unintended weight loss or gain.

Many people going through cancer ask if diet and nutrition can help them fight and recover
from cancer. The answer is yes! No matter what side effects you experience, nutrition will be
an essential part of dealing with your cancer and cancer treatment. Healthy eating and staying
hydrated can help fuel recovery, help you manage side effects, and keep your body strong.

Some people going through cancer treatment continue to enjoy eating and have a normal
appetite throughout treatment. Others have days when they don’t feel like eating at all. For
many, side effects come and go. Not eating enough can lead to weight loss, and weight loss
can lead to weakness and fatigue. Eating as well as you can during your treatment and your
recovery is an important part of taking care of yourself.

There are no hard and fast rules about how to eat during cancer treatment. Eat as healthfully
as possible—the importance of this cannot be overstated. However, eating during treatment
may be different in many ways from how you ate before. Eating well does not mean that
you need to be perfect. Try to select a variety of nutritious foods each day to help keep your
body healthy. But do not be too hard on yourself if the foods you can tolerate are not the most
nutritious or if you have days during which your appetite is poor. There will be times when
what you can eat is impacted by your treatment and its effect on your body.

cancer.org 1

What To Eat_INT_final.indd 1 8/17/18 1:37 PM

 You will find some recipes in this book that are higher in calories, fat, or sugar than typically
recommended as part of the daily diet for someone without cancer. Managing side effects
can require a different approach. Balance is key, and the nutritional needs of a person going
through cancer treatment are unique and different from those of someone without cancer.

In many ways, this is not a typical cookbook. Recipes are organized by side effect: nausea,
diarrhea, constipation, trouble swallowing, sore mouth or throat, unintentional weight loss,
and taste changes. As you’re reading through the recipes, look for these symbols at the top of
the page:

N NAUSEA SM SORE MOUTH OR THROAT

D DIARRHEA WL UNINTENTIONAL WEIGHT LOSS

C CONSTIPATION TC TASTE CHANGES

TS TROUBLE SWALLOWING

For reference, a couple of lists are included to help you find the recipes that will be most useful
to you. In the beginning of the book, there is a list of all recipes by chapter, with symbols beside
each indicating the side effects for which it is appropriate. At the back of the book (pages
261–266), you will also find a complete list of recipes for each side effect, to give a clear, easy-
to-understand picture of what might be best for you. Keep in mind that many of the recipes
work for people dealing with more than one side effect. For example, the Raspberry Chia
Pudding on page 121 appears in the chapter for constipation, but may also be appropriate if you
are experiencing taste changes, so both the C and TC icons appear on that page.

Most people with cancer have families that are going through this experience along with them.
While the recipes are focused on a cancer patient’s specific needs, most are also nutritious
and easy to prepare and are also intended for the family or caretaker to enjoy. Since these
recipes are written for people who are undergoing treatment, some are mildly flavored. Tips
throughout the book give suggestions for ways to adapt the recipes for family members or for
when the side effect has resolved. As you start to feel better, you can tweak the recipes to suit
your changing tastes and needs.

Some people with cancer are also dealing with other health problems, such as diabetes, heart
disease, or high blood pressure. Many of the recipes in this book are appropriate for people
with other health issues, but if this applies to you, make sure your regular doctors know you

2 Introduction

What To Eat_INT_final.indd 2 8/17/18 1:37 PM

 are being treated for cancer, and always follow the advice of your health care team. If you are
already on a diet for a particular health condition, make sure that you speak with your doctor
before you make changes.

This second edition also comes with updated and expanded content that will be of great use
to anyone going through cancer treatment. This information is based on years of experience
working with patients and helping them navigate that process. On pages 8–9, advice is given
for the caregiver. Taking care of someone who is going through cancer treatment can be
challenging, but also rewarding. On pages 10–16, guidance is provided on food safety for
someone going through treatment. Food safety is very important during treatment, when your
immune system can be compromised and more vulnerable to foodborne infections. On pages
17–19, you’ll find information on snacking and staying hydrated. A section addressing some
common questions is on pages 20–22. Vitamin and mineral deficiencies during treatment
are discussed on pages 23–25. See page 26 for information about how to deal with weight
gain during treatment. While less common than weight loss, it is still a problem that affects
many people. And new to this edition, a section has been added on eating and living well after
treatment (pages 249–258).

During active cancer treatment, your overall nutritional goal should be to eat a variety of foods
that provide the nutrients needed to maintain health while you fight cancer. Try to do these
things every day, when possible:

ii Eat regular meals and snacks throughout the day.

ii Include an array of colorful fruits and vegetables in your diet.

ii Incorporate good sources of protein in your diet, including plant-based proteins such as
nuts, seeds, beans, and peas.

ii Drink plenty of water and other hydrating fluids.

ii As you are able, be physically active, and try to avoid inactivity.

ii Strive to obtain and maintain a healthy weight during treatment, with your doctor’s
guidance.

ii Keep your cupboards and refrigerator stocked with foods and snacks so that you have
ready-to-eat items on hand for times when you are not feeling well.

ii Plan ahead by cooking in advance and freezing foods in meal-sized portions.

ii Do not be afraid to try new foods, especially if favorite foods are tasting different or
unpleasant.

cancer.org 3

What To Eat_INT_final.indd 3 8/17/18 1:37 PM

 Most cancer centers have a registered dietitian (RD) on staff to help patients. Talk with your
health care team about any nutrition- and diet-related concerns you have and ask them for
a referral. Working one-on-one with the RD can help you create an individualized plan for
your situation. If one is not available at your clinic or medical center, contact the American
Cancer Society at 800-227-2345, or you can also go to the Academy of Nutrition and
Dietetics website at eatright.org/find-an-expert to locate an RD who specializes in oncology
nutrition in your area.

Whether you need help dealing with side effects or simply want to make sure you maintain
your health, this cookbook was written to help you. These recipes and suggestions were written
to make this time a little bit easier for everyone. Every person is different, and your cancer
experience will be unique. As mentioned earlier, there are no hard and fast rules about how to
eat during cancer treatment. With experimentation, you can learn what works best for you.

For more information about cancer, nutrition, and managing the side effects of treatment,
contact the American Cancer Society at 800-227-2345 or cancer.org.

4 Introduction

What To Eat_INT_final.indd 4 8/17/18 1:37 PM

 A FEW NOTES ABOUT THE RECIPES
As you read through recipes, pay particular attention to the introductory text and the tips—
they contain helpful information about recipe preparation, ways to alter the recipes, and notes
about conditions such as low white blood cell counts (neutropenia).

Most recipes call for full-fat or “regular” dairy products instead of reduced-fat or nonfat
items. Feel free to use a reduced-fat or nonfat option if that is more appropriate for your
needs or appetite.

Each recipe includes full nutritional information for one serving. Serving sizes are
approximate—exact serving sizes will depend on the size of your ingredients (vegetables, for
example) and your preparation. When you are feeling unwell, just try to eat what you can.
Keep these things in mind:

ii Optional ingredients and ingredients listed without a specified amount (“Salt and
freshly ground black pepper,” for example) are not represented in the analysis, nor are
ingredients suggested as possible accompaniments.

ii When a recipe gives a choice of ingredients, the first option was used in the analysis.

ii All data are rounded according to the U.S. Food and Drug Administration Rounding
Rules.

ii If a serving range is given, the analysis is for the smaller number of servings.

The information in this book is not official policy of the American Cancer Society and is not
intended as medical advice to replace the expertise of your health care team. It is intended to
help you and your family make informed decisions, together with your doctors.

cancer.org 5

What To Eat_INT_final.indd 5 8/17/18 1:37 PM

 6 What You Need to Know

What To Eat_INT_final.indd 6 8/17/18 1:37 PM

 WHAT YOU
NEED TO KNOW

cancer.org 7

What To Eat_INT_final.indd 7 8/17/18 1:37 PM

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 ADVICE FOR THE CAREGIVER
If you are the caregiver, it can be frustrating and difficult at times to meet the nutritional needs
of a person who may not feel like eating or whose likes and dislikes can change daily. Foods
may not taste normal to someone going through cancer treatment, so don’t be offended if old
favorites aren’t appealing. If the person’s tastes seem to have changed, encourage new foods.

Don’t worry if there are days when the person’s diet is not as balanced as you would like.
Sometimes the foods your loved one asks for or tolerates best may not be things you would
normally consider to be part of a “healthy” diet. Of course, it is important to eat as well as
possible during treatment, but there may be times when the goal is to take in as many calories
as possible, or times when simply eating is a victory. Remember that it is okay for nutritional
goals to be different right now, and days when the person is feeling better will make up for
more challenging days.

Try to be patient and encouraging when your loved one does not feel like eating, and look for
opportunities to make eating easier. Keep the fridge, freezer, and pantry stocked with easy-to-
prepare foods and things that can be eaten as is. Many people going through cancer treatment
experience lack of appetite or other problems that can make eating daunting or difficult. A
large plate of food can be overwhelming. It sometimes works better for patients dealing with
side effects to snack or eat small meals throughout the day, instead of three large meals. See
page 18 for ideas for easy snacks to keep on hand or include in a basket or cooler near the
couch or a favorite chair. Keeping snacks nearby can make it easier for your loved one to
nibble when they do feel like eating. Also, keep items that he or she normally eats and tolerates
well when sick.

Here are some other tips that you may find helpful:

ii Try to make mealtimes pleasant, as much as possible. Play music, watch a movie, or
have friends over if he or she is up to it.

ii Offer the biggest meal of the day when he or she feels the hungriest—for many
people, this is in the morning.

ii Offer favorite foods any time of the day. It’s okay to have a sandwich or bowl of soup
for breakfast or have breakfast food for dinner.

ii Package leftovers in single-serving containers for future meals; large servings can
seem overwhelming when someone's appetite is poor.

8 What You Need to Know

What To Eat_INT_final.indd 8 8/17/18 1:37 PM

 ii If your loved one is sensitive to smells, prepare meals in a
different room from where they’ll be eaten. Suggest that he
or she go to another room while food is being prepared. If
possible, consider grilling outdoors or using a slow cooker on
the back porch or in the garage to keep the smell of food from
filling the house. Serving foods cool or at room temperature
also decreases aromas.

ii Drinking is often easier than eating. If your loved one does not
feel like eating but is willing to drink, offer sips of smoothies,
soups, nutritional supplements, hot cocoa, milk, and milk
shakes. Soups can be sipped out of mugs and reheated as
needed. Cups with lids will also help block smells.

It is always important to follow food safety procedures, but it is especially important if you
are preparing meals for someone undergoing cancer treatment, as it may reduce the person’s
ability to fight off infections. The next section provides an overview of keeping food safe for
everyone; familiarize yourself with these basics and be sure to put them into practice.

Most importantly, remember that you cannot do it all yourself. Caregiving can be
demanding, and it is not realistic or healthy to try to tackle everything on your own. When
friends or family offer to help, accept, even if it is difficult. Look for situations where you
need assistance, and jot ideas down in a notepad or on your phone. There are many ways
people can help: meals, grocery shopping, helping with yardwork or housecleaning,
babysitting, or even just staying with your loved one so that you can take a break. Ask
others what they can do to give you a hand, and be clear about what you need. People
want to help but often struggle with knowing how best to provide the assistance you
need. Remember how important it is that you also take care of yourself during this time!
Eating well, being as active as possible, getting enough sleep, and practicing stress-
reduction techniques can help you stay at your best so that you can offer the best care.

cancer.org 9

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 FOOD SAFETY DURING CANCER
TREATMENT
There may be times during cancer treatment when the body is not able to protect itself very
well. Cancer and its treatment can weaken the body’s immune system by affecting the blood
cells that protect against germs. When your immune system is weakened, the first step in
staying free from infection is being aware of and avoiding the bacteria and other organisms
that can make you ill. Following safe food practices can reduce the risk of foodborne illness.
Follow the practices outlined in this section to maintain good food safety.

Some foods should be avoided by anyone going through cancer treatment. These foods can
contain high levels of bacteria:

ii Undercooked meat or poultry, especially ground meats

ii Raw or runny eggs, including nonpasteurized or homemade

eggnog, smoothies or drinks made with raw eggs, unbaked
meringues, or Caesar salad dressing made with raw egg

ii Nonpasteurized vegetable and fruit juice, unless prepared at home with washed produce

ii Uncooked vegetable sprouts (all kinds, including alfalfa, radish, broccoli, mung bean,
etc.), because of a high risk of contamination with salmonella and E. coli

CLEANING PROPERLY
ii Wash your hands with warm, soapy water for twenty seconds before and after
preparing food and after using the bathroom or touching pets. Always wash hands
before eating.

ii Clean counters and cutting boards with hot, soapy water or a fresh solution made of
one part bleach to ten parts water. Moist disinfecting wipes may be used if they’re
made for use around food.

ii Use paper towels to clean kitchen surfaces. Cloth kitchen towels should be replaced
daily and laundered in hot water.

10 What You Need to Know

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 WH AT I S N EUTROP ENI A?
Some types of cancer treatment can cause a condition known as neutropenia, or low white blood cell
counts. Having neutropenia puts one at greater risk for infection and foodborne illnesses. If this happens,
ask your health care team if you should follow specific diet guidelines. When white blood cell counts are low,
your health care team may tell you to avoid additional foods.

ii Wash fruits and vegetables well under running water before peeling or cutting.
Do not use soaps, detergents, or chlorine bleach solutions. With a clean vegetable
scrubber, scrub produce that has a thick and rough
skin or rind (such as melons, potatoes, bananas,
etc.) or any produce that has dirt on it.

ii Packaged salads, slaw mixes, and other prepared produce, even when marked
prewashed, should be rinsed again under running water. Using a colander or salad
spinner can make this easier.

ii Wash the tops of canned goods with soap and water before opening.

HEATING AND STORING FOOD

ii Keep hot foods hot (warmer than 140°F) and cold foods cold (cooler than 40°F).

ii Keep your refrigerator set at or below 40°F. Use an appliance thermometer to be sure.

ii Do not refreeze foods once you’ve thawed them.

ii Refrigerate meat, poultry, seafood, eggs, and other perishable foods within two
hours of buying or preparing them. Egg dishes and cream- and mayonnaise-based
foods should not be left unrefrigerated.

ii If preparing hot food that won’t be served right away (or that you’ll be freezing or
transporting later), divide into shallow dishes or containers so that it cools more
quickly in the refrigerator.

ii Throw away fruits and vegetables that are slimy or moldy.

ii Throw away eggs with cracked shells.

cancer.org 11

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 ii Throw out foods that look or smell strange. Never taste them!

ii Discard food that has not been eaten in an appropriate timeframe. See the guidance
on the next page for how long to keep specific foods on hand.

AVOIDING CROSS-CONTAMINATION
ii Keep raw meat, poultry, or seafood separated from other foods, both when grocery
shopping and in the refrigerator.

ii If thawing raw meat or poultry in the refrigerator, place in a container to catch

liquid. If possible, place the thawing food on a lower shelf in the refrigerator.

ii Keep foods separated on the countertops. Use separate cutting boards and clean
knives for raw meats and other foods.

ii When grilling, always use a clean plate for the cooked meat.

ii Marinades used on raw food should not be used as a sauce. Reserve a portion before
putting raw meat or poultry in it.

COOKING FOOD WELL

ii Ensure all meats, poultry, and fish are cooked thoroughly. Use a food thermometer
placed into the thickest part of the food to be sure that meat and poultry reach the
proper temperature. (See the chart of safe food temperatures on page 16.) Test a
thermometer’s accuracy by putting it into boiling water—it should read 212°F.

ii When cooking in the microwave, rotate the dish a quarter turn once or twice during
cooking if there’s no turntable in the oven. This helps prevent cold spots in food
where bacteria can survive.

ii Cover leftovers when reheating. All leftovers should be brought to a minimum

temperature of 165 degrees.

ii Cook eggs until both whites and yolks are firm, not runny.

ii When reheating soups, sauces, or gravies, be sure to bring to a boil.

12 What You Need to Know

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in the long black coat had given me a scrap of paper; then the thin
man had egged on the stout man to snatch it from me like a hungry
lion; then, to regain it in his possession the black-coated man had
attacked the two others like some mad wild beast; finally, to crown
all, the canvas cloth creature had put into my hand what seemed to
be the identical scrap of paper as I stood on the threshold of the
door. There must be something of interest connected with the thing;
or why had these persons, in spite of what Emily had said, all utter
strangers to me, behaved in such an extraordinary manner?
I was both tired and sleepy, but I was more worried than either.
Part of my worry had to do with that scrap of paper. What was in it?
I was sure I should never sleep until I knew. It was about half an
inch broad, and an inch and a half long. As I pressed it with my
fingers, I could feel that something was inside, something queer-
shaped and hard. The room was pretty dark. All the light there was
came through the sides of the badly fitting blind from the lamp on
the opposite side of the street. I could not get the paper open. It
was fastened in some way I did not understand. As I held it up
against the shaft of light which came through the side of the blind,
to make out, if possible, what the trick of the fastening was, a queer
thing took place.
Something moved inside, and tore the paper open. It was only a
little thing, but it took me so completely by surprise that it affected
me almost as much as if the ceiling had fallen in. What could there
have been inside to move? I sat staring, in the darkness, with my
mouth wide open. Suddenly there came Miss Ashton’s voice from the
other end of the room.
“Miss Blyth, are you not going to get into bed at all to-night?”
At that moment I myself could not have told. I was holding in my
hand something which gleamed at me. What it was I could not even
guess. I only knew that two specks of light, which looked like eyes,
were shining at me through the darkness; and that the thing had
moved. There was Miss Ashton’s voice again.
“Do you hear me, Miss Blyth? Are you going to bed? or am I to
summon Mrs. Galloway?”
 Without answering her a word I dropped what I was holding on to
the bed. I was convinced that it moved as I did so, as if to cling to
my fingers. It was silly, but I was never so frightened in my life. I
saw the two bright spots of light shining up at me from the
counterpane as if they were watching me. I hardly dared to breathe.
I slipped off my bodice, and the rest of my things, moving as little as
I possibly could, and stood in my night-gown shivering by the bed.
Had I not been afraid, I would have asked Lucy to let me get into
bed with her. But I knew Miss Ashton would hear, and would rout me
out again, and then there would be worse to follow. I should get
Lucy into trouble as well as myself. And there was trouble enough in
store for all of us already. Better face what there was to face alone,
than drag anybody else into the ditch into which I seemed to be
continually tumbling.
It was too ridiculous to be afraid to get into bed because that
thing with the shining spots was lying on the counterpane. I was
sensible enough to be aware of that. Yet I was afraid. Was it alive? If
I could only have made sure that it was not, I should not have
minded. But it was too dark to see; and I could not touch it.
“Miss Blyth, are you going to get into bed?”
“Well, Miss Ashton, there’s something on my bed, and I don’t
know what it is.”
“Something on your bed? What do you mean? What nonsense are
you talking?”
“Have you any matches? If you’ll lend me some, I shall be able to
see what it is. I can’t get in until I know.”
“Is it a fresh trick you are playing me? I never heard anything so
ridiculous. Here are some matches. Be quick; and don’t be sillier
than you can help.”
I went and took the box of matches she held out to me.
Returning, I lit one and held it over the counterpane. Some of the
girls lifted their heads to watch me. Lucy Carr leaned right out of her
bed towards mine.
“Whatever is it?” she whispered.
My hand shook so, with the cold, and the state I was in, that it
was all I could do to keep it steady enough to prevent the match
from going out. I held it lower.
“I believe it’s a frog.”
“A frog!” cried Lucy. She drew herself back with a little shriek.
“It’s—it’s something horrid.”
Two or three of the girls sat up, drawing the bedclothes to their
chins.
“Miss Blyth, what is the cause of this confusion? Are we never to
have any sleep to-night?”
Miss Ashton, getting out of bed, came across the room to see
what was the matter. The match went out. The red-hot end dropped
on to the counterpane. I brushed it off with my fingers. As I did so I
touched the thing. My nerves were so strung up that I gave a
scream. There came an echo from the girls. Miss Ashton was at my
side before I could strike another match. She was in a fine rage.
“Give me the box!” She snatched it from me. “Have you been
misbehaving yourself? or are you mad? I’ll soon see what is the
cause of all this nonsense, and then I’ll be sorry for whoever is at
the bottom of it.”
The first match she tried would not light. The second burst into
vivid flame. She stooped down.
“What is this thing upon your bed? It’s some painted toy. You
impudent girl!”
Picking it up, she threw it on to the floor into the corner of the
room. Her match went out. There was a sound like a little cry of
pain.
“Whatever’s that?” asked Lucy.
“It’s nothing,” replied Miss Ashton. “It was only the thing striking
against the floor.”
“I believe it’s alive,” I said. “It shrieked.”
“I believe you have been drinking.”
“Miss Ashton!”
“I have heard of people who have been drinking seeing things—
that appears to be your condition now. Are you going to get into
bed? You will have something to shriek for when the morning
comes.”
 I got into bed, feeling so cowed, that I could not even resent, with
a proper show of dignity, her monstrous accusation. That anyone
could have been wicked enough to accuse me of such a thing! I was
trembling all over. I believed that the thing had shrieked, and was
haunted by a horrible doubt that it was alive. Never before was I in
such a state of mind and body. My brain was all in a whirl. I could do
nothing but lie there shivering; my joints and muscles seemed to be
possessed by an attack of twitching spasms, as if I had been
suddenly smitten with some hideous disease.
I heard Miss Ashton return to her own bed. Then a voice
whispered in my ear, so gently that it could have been audible to no
one but me—
“Never mind, dear. She’s a beast!”
It was Lucy. I put out my hand. She was leaning over me.
“Kiss me,” I muttered.
She kissed me. It did me good. I held her, for a moment, to me. It
comforted me to feel her face against mine.
“Now go to sleep! and don’t you dream!”
It was easy enough to talk; it was harder to do. I did not often
dream. Not nearly so much as some of the other girls, who were
always telling us of the things they dreamed about. Rubbish it
mostly was. I always said they made up three parts of it, not
believing that such stuff could get into the heads of sensible people,
even when they were asleep. That night I dreamt while I was wide
awake. I was overcome by a sort of nightmare horror, which held
me, with staring eyes and racking head, motionless between the
sheets, as if I had been glued to them. It was as if the thing which
Miss Ashton had thrown on the floor was in an agony of pain, and as
if it had communicated its sufferings to me.
At last I suppose I must have gone to sleep. And then it was
worse than ever. What I endured in my sleep that night no one could
conceive. It was as if I were continually passing through endless
chambers of nameless horrors. With it all were mixed up the events
of the evening. I saw Isaac Rudd, and the creature in the canvas
cloth, and the two short men, and the person in the long black coat.
They kept popping in and out, always in full enjoyment of my
tortures. There were Emily and I, standing at the top of an
enormous flight of steps, in pitch-black darkness, in frightful
weather, outside the door of some dreadful place, and there were
those dreadful creatures jeering at us because no one would let us
in. And Tom—I knew that somewhere near Tom was crying. And the
thing which was in the scrap of paper was with me all the night. It
was always on me somewhere; now on my throat, biting through the
skin; now on my breast, drawing the life right out of me; now on my
toes, hampering my feet, so that I could scarcely lift them up and
down; now inside my mouth, filling me with a horrible choking sense
of nausea.
But perhaps the strangest part of it all was that, when I awoke,
there actually was something on my forehead. I felt it against my
chin. Giving my head a sudden shake it slipped off on to the pillow
at my side. I sat up. It was broad day. I saw it as plain as could be.
A little painted thing, tricked out in ridiculously contrasting shades of
green, and pink, and yellow. As Miss Ashton had said, it might have
been a toy. I had seen things not unlike it in the shop, among the
Japanese and Chinese curiosities. Or it might have been a tiny
representation of some preposterous heathen god, with beads for
eyes.
 CHAPTER IV.
AN INTERVIEW WITH MR. SLAUGHTER.

That was a curious day. More things happened on it than on any day
of my life before. It was the beginning of everything and the end of
some things. From morning to night there was continual movement
like in the transformation scene in a pantomime. When, since one
was born, nothing has taken place, and nothing changed, it makes
such a difference.
I got up feeling dreadfully stale; an up-all-night sort of feeling. Not
that I ever have been up all night; but I know what the sensation is
like because of the descriptions I have read. Miss Ashton was
disagreeable, and the girls were snappish—even Lucy Carr was
short; and, I daresay, I was not too nice. But then there often is a
little show of temper in the morning; it is human nature. They had
all begun when I got down to breakfast, and, of course, I got black
looks for that. I caught sight of Emily Purvis as I sat down. She
nodded; but it struck me that she was not looking brilliant, any more
than I was.
Breakfast stuck in my throat. The butter was bad as usual—cheap
margarine just rank enough to make pastry taste. The bread seemed
as if it had been cut for hours, it was so hard and dry. I did manage
to swallow a mouthful of tea; but the water was smoked, and I do
not like condensed milk which is just going off, so I could not do
much even with that. On the whole I did not feel any better for the
meal when I got into the shop. I am not sure that I did not feel
worse; and I knew I should be sinking before dinner came. Mr.
Broadley began at me at once. He set me re-packing a whole lot of
stock, which he declared I had not put tidily away; which was
perfectly untrue, because, as a matter of fact, it was Miss Nichols
who had had it last, and it was she who had put it back again. And,
anyhow, some of those trimmings, when they have been once
shown, will not set neatly; they are like hats, they cannot be made
to go just so.
It was past eleven, and I had not had a single customer; it was
miserable weather, and perhaps that had something to do with it,
because scarcely a soul came into the shop. Mr. Broadley kept me at
putting the shelves in order, almost as if I had been stock-taking.
Not that I cared, for I hate doing nothing; especially as, if you so
much as speak to one of the other young ladies, he is fit to murder
you; that is the worst of your married shopwalkers, directly a girl
opens her mouth he jumps down it. Still, I did not like it all the
same; because I was getting tired, and hungry too; and, when you
are hungry, the only way to stave the feeling off is to be kept busy
serving; then you cannot stop to think what you would like to eat.
At last, just as a customer entered the shop, and was coming
toward me, up sailed Mr. Broadley.
“Miss Blyth, you’re wanted in the office.”
My heart dropped down with a thump. I had half expected it all
along, but now that it had come I went queer all over. I had to catch
hold of the counter to keep up straight. Miss Nichols, seeing how it
was with me, whispered as she went past:
“It’s all right, Pollie, don’t you worry, it’s nothing. Buck up, old
girl.”
It was nice of her to try to cheer me up; but there was a choking
something in my throat which prevented me from thanking her.
Broadley was at me again.
“Hurry up, Miss Blyth, don’t stand mooning there. Didn’t you hear
me tell you that you are wanted in the office?”
He was a bully, he was, to the finger-tips. I knew that he was
smiling at me all the time; enjoying my white face, and the tremble I
was in. When I got away from the counter I felt as if my knees were
giving way beneath me. Everyone stared as I went past—I could
have cried. They knew perfectly well that being summoned to the
office during working hours meant trouble.
Outside the office was Emily Purvis. I had been wondering if she
would be there, yet it was a shock to see her all the same. She was
quite as much upset as I was. I knew that her nearest friends were
down in Devonshire, and that she was not on the best of terms with
them; so that if there was going to be serious trouble, she would be
just as badly off as I was, without any friends at all. Her pretty face
looked all drawn and thin, as if she were ten years older than she
really was. It would only want a very little to start her tears. Her
voice shook so that I could hardly make out what she said.
“Pollie, what do you think they’ll do to us?”
“I don’t know. Where’s Tom? Did he get in all right? Has he—been
sent for?”
“How can I tell? I don’t know anything about Mr. Cooper. You
know, Pollie, it was not my fault that I was in late.”
“So far as I know it was neither of our faults. I wonder if Tom got
in all right.”
“Bother Tom! It’s very hard on me. I wonder if they’ll fine us?”
Before I could answer Mr. Slaughter put his head out of the office.
“Come in there! Stop that chattering! Are you the two young
women I sent for?”
We went in, standing like two guilty things. Mr. Slaughter sat at his
desk.
“Which of you is Mary Blyth?”
“I am, sir.”
“Oh, you are, are you?”
He leant back in his chair, put his hands in his pockets, and looked
me up and down, as if he was valuing me. He was a little man, with
untidy hair and a scrubby black beard. I could not have been more
afraid of him if he had been a dozen times as big. He had a way of
speaking as if he would like to bite you; and as if he wished you to
clearly understand that, should he have to speak again, he would
take a piece clean out of you. Everybody about the place was more
frightened of him than of Mr. Cardew. It was he who had made it
what it was. In the beginning it had been nothing; now there were
all those shops. He was a thorough man of business, without a grain
of feeling in him. We all felt that he looked on us assistants as if we
were so many inferior cattle, not to be compared, for instance, to
the horses which drew his vans.
 I could have sunk through the ground as he continued to stare at
me. It was more than I could do to meet his eyes; yet something
seemed to say that he did not think much of what he saw. His first
words showed that I was right.
“Well, Mary Blyth, it seems that you’re an altogether good-for-
nothing young woman. From what I find upon this paper it seems
that there’s everything to be said against you, nothing in your
favour; no good for business, no good for anything. And you look it.
I can’t make out why you’ve been kept about the place so long; it
points to neglect somewhere. It appears that you’re habitually
irregular; three times yesterday you missed making a sale, and you
know what that means. We don’t keep saleswomen who send
customers away empty-handed; we send them after the customers.
You were impertinent to Mr. Broadley. And, to crown all, you were
out last night till something like the small hours. On your return you
made a riot till they let you in, and more riot when you were in. Miss
Ashton, who is far too gentle, does not like to say that you had been
drinking, but she says that you behaved as though you had been. In
short, you’re just the type of young woman we don’t want in this
establishment. You’ll go and draw whatever is due to you, if
anything is due; and you’ll take yourself and your belongings off
these premises inside of half an hour. That, Mary Blyth, is all I have
to say to you.”
For the moment, when he had finished, I was speechless. It was
all so cruel and unjust; and there was so much to be said in reply to
every word he uttered, that the very volume of my defence seemed
to hold me paralysed. I could only stammer out:
“It is the first time I have been reported to you, sir.”
“As I have already observed, there has evidently been neglect in
that respect. The delay amounts to a failure of duty. I will make
inquiries into its cause.”
“It was not my fault that I was late, sir.”
“No? Was the gentleman to blame?”
My face flamed up. I could have slapped him on the cheek. What
did he mean by his insinuations?
“You have no right to speak to me like that!”
 “When young women in my employment misbehave themselves as
you have done I make plain speaking a rule. A man was with you,
because one was seen. You can apportion the blame between you.” I
could not tell him it was Tom; it might have been bad for him. “None
of your airs with me; off you go. Stay! This other young woman
heard me talk to you; now you shall hear me talk to her. Is your
name Emily Purvis?”
“Yes, sir. It’s the first time—I never meant it—it wasn’t my fault.”
Emily broke into stammering speech; he cut her short.
“Don’t you trouble yourself to talk; I’ll do all the talking that’s
required. You were out after hours with Miss Blyth. I’m not going to
ask any questions, and I’ll listen to no explanations; young women
who scour the streets at midnight are not the sort I like. We are
judged by the company we keep. You were Mary Blyth’s companion
last night; you’ll be her companion again. With her, you’ll draw what
is due to you; with her, you’ll clear yourself off these premises inside
half an hour. Now, stop it!”
Emily began crying.
“Oh, Mr. Slaughter, I’ve done nothing! it isn’t fair! I’ve nowhere to
go to!”
“Oh, yes, you have, you’ve outside this office to go to. Now, no
nonsense!” He struck a hand-bell; a porter entered. “Take these
young women out of this; let them have what’s due to them; see
they’re off the premises inside half an hour.”
“Oh, Mr. Slaughter!” wailed Emily.
It made me so angry to see her demean herself before that
unfeeling thing of wood, that I caught her by the wrist.
“Come, Emily! don’t degrade yourself by appealing to that cruel,
unjust, hard-hearted man. Don’t you see that he thinks it fine sport
to trample upon helpless girls?”
“Come, none of that.”
The porter put his hand upon my shoulder. Before I knew it we
were out of the office and half a dozen yards away. I turned upon
him in a flame of passion.
“Take your hand from off my shoulder! If you dare to touch me
again you’ll be sorry!”
 He was not a bad sort. He seemed scared at the sight of me.
“I don’t want to do anything to you. Only what’s the good of
making a fuss? You know he’s master here.”
“And, because he’s master here, I suppose, if he tells you to
behave like a miserable coward, you would?”
“What’s the use of talking? If he says you’ve got to go, you’ve got
to, and there’s an end of it. You take my advice, and don’t be silly.”
“Silly! Your advice! When I ask you for your advice, you give it,
not before.”
I stood and glared. I do not think he altogether liked the look of
me; I am sure that had he touched me I should have flown at him,
and I rather suspect he knew it. While he hesitated I heard someone
speaking in loud tones in the office from which we had just now
been ejected. It was a man’s voice.
“I want to see Miss Blyth.”
It was Mr. Slaughter who replied.
“I say you can’t see Miss Blyth, so you have my answer, sir.”
“But that is an answer which I am unable to accept. I must see
Miss Blyth, and at once, on a matter of grave importance.”
“Don’t talk to me, sir; my time is valuable. This is neither the hour
nor the place at which we are accustomed to allow a stranger to see
the young women in our employ. And as, in any case, this particular
young woman is no longer in our employ, I repeat that you cannot
see Miss Blyth.”
“Oh, yes, you can—for here is Miss Blyth.”
Darting past the porter, who seemed pretty slow-witted, I was
back again in the office. A stranger was confronting the indignant Mr.
Slaughter. I had just time to see that he was not old, and that he
was holding a top hat, when he turned to me.
“Are you Miss Mary Blyth?”
“I am, Mr. Slaughter knows I am.”
“My name is Paine, Frank Paine. I am a solicitor. If you are the
Mary Blyth I am in search of I have a communication to make to you
of considerable importance.”
“Then make it outside, sir.” This was Mr. Slaughter.
The porter appeared at the door.
 “What’s the meaning of this, Sanders? Didn’t I tell you to see this
young woman off the premises?”
“I was just seeing her, sir, when she slipped off before I knew it.”
I flashed round at Sanders.
“You’ve assaulted me once, don’t you dare to assault me again;
this gentleman’s a solicitor. If you’re a solicitor, Mr. Paine, I want you
to help me. Because I was accidentally prevented from returning till
a few minutes after time last night, Mr. Slaughter wishes to send me
away at a moment’s notice, without a character.”
“Is that the case, Mr. Slaughter?”
“What business is it of yours? Upon my word! I tell you again to
leave my office.”
“You appear to wish to carry things off with a high hand.”
“A high hand! Mr. Slaughter thinks that he has only to lift his little
finger to have us all turned into the street.”
“If that is so, he is in error. Miss Blyth is my client. As her solicitor
I would advise you to be sure that you are treating her with justice.”
“Her solicitor!” Mr. Slaughter laughed. “I wish you joy of the job,
you won’t make a fortune out of her!” He waved his hands. “Any
communication you have to make, you make through the post. For
the last time I ask you to leave my office.”
“Come, Mr. Paine, we will go. He need not ask us again. As he
says, we can communicate with him through the post; and that will
not necessitate our being brought into his too close neighbourhood.”
I shook the dust of the office off my feet. Mr. Paine seemed
puzzled. Outside was Emily, still crying. I introduced her.
“This is Emily Purvis, another victim of Mr. Slaughter’s injustice.
Emily, this is my solicitor, Mr. Paine.”
She stared, as well she might. For all I knew, it might have been a
jest of his, he might not have been a solicitor at all. The truth is I
was quite as anxious to carry things off with a high hand as Mr.
Slaughter could be; so I held my head as high as ever I could.
“Mr. Paine, we are going to draw our salaries. They are sure to get
as much out of us in fines as they can. Will you come and see that
they don’t cheat us more than can be helped?”
 “Fines!” Mr. Paine looked grave. “I doubt if they have any right to
deduct fines without your express permission.”
So he told them. That book-keeper had a pleasant time—the
wretch! He made out that the princely sum of fifteen shillings was
due to each of us; and off this, he wanted to dock me nine and six,
and Emily five. Mr. Paine would not have it. He put things in such a
way that the book-keeper referred to Mr. Slaughter. Mr. Slaughter
actually sent back word to say that he was to give us our fifteen
shillings and let us go. Then Mr. Paine handed in his card, and said
that if we did not receive, within four and twenty hours, a quarter’s
salary in lieu of notice, proceedings would be immediately
commenced for the recovery of the same.
So, in a manner of speaking, Emily and I marched off with flying
colours.
 CHAPTER V.
THE MISSIONARY’S LETTER.

The question was, what was to become of us? With no friends one
cannot live long on fifteen shillings. Even if we got fresh situations in
a fortnight it would only be with management that the money could
be made to last that time; and, if we did, then we should be more
fortunate than I expected to be.
Mr. Paine, however, postponed the solution of the difficulty by
suggesting that I should arrange nothing until I had had a talk with
him. I was willing; though what he had to do with it was more than I
could guess; unless, like they used to do in the fairy tales, he was all
of a sudden going to turn out to be my fairy godpapa. One thing I
insisted on, that Emily should come with me. So, after I had
scribbled a note to Tom—“Dear Tom, Emily and I have got the sack.
Meet me after closing time at the usual place. Yours, as ever, Pollie.
P.S.—Hope you’re all right”—which Sanders, who was a good sort,
promised to see he got—we all three got into a four-wheeled cab,
with our boxes on top, and away we rattled.
“Good bye, Slaughter!” I said. “And may we never want to see
your face again. And now, Mr. Paine, where are you taking us to?”
“To my offices in Mitre Court. What I have to say to you may take
some time, and require a little explanation, and there we shall have
the necessary privacy.”
It sounded mysterious, and I began to wonder more and more
what he had to say. I daresay I should have put my wonder into
words, only just at that moment, who should I see, peeping at us
round the corner of the street which we were passing, but the man
who paid our bill at Firandolo’s, and who said his name was Isaac
Rudd. The sight of him gave me quite a shock.
“There’s Isaac Rudd!” I cried.
“Isaac—who?” asked Emily. She can be dull.
“Why, the man who paid the bill last night.”
 Then she understood. Out went her head through the window.
“Where? I don’t see him.”
“No, and he’ll take care you won’t. Unless I’m mistaken, directly
he knew I saw him he took himself away; but he’s got his eye upon
us all the same.”
I looked at Emily, and she at me. Mr. Paine saw that something
was up.
“Who was that you’re speaking of? Someone who has been
annoying you?”
“No—nothing. Only there was something a little queer took place
last night.”
I sat silent, thinking of Isaac Rudd; as, I daresay, was Emily too.
Putting two and two together, it was odd that he should be just
there at that particular moment. Especially as, a little farther on, I
saw, standing in the shadow of a doorway, a man in a long black
overcoat, with his hat crushed over his eyes, who bore the most
amazing resemblance to the foreigner who had given me the
something in a scrap of paper.
Suddenly I jumped up from my seat. I was so startled that I could
not help but give a little scream. They both stared at me.
“What is wrong?” asked Mr. Paine.
“Why, look at that!”
There, sitting, as it were, bolt upright on my knee was the
something which had been in the scrap of paper. Mr. Paine eyed it.
“What is it?”
“That’s what I should like to know; also where it’s come from; it
wasn’t there a moment back, and that I’ll swear.”
“May I look at it?”
“Certainly; and throw it out of the window too, for all I care.”
Mr. Paine took it up. He turned it over and over.
“It looks like one of the images, representatives of well known
deities, which are used as household gods on some of the Pacific
coasts. People hang them over their beds, or over the thresholds of
their doors, or anywhere. Imitations are sold in some of the London
shops. Perhaps Messrs. Cardew & Slaughter keep them in stock.”
 “That I am sure they don’t. And, if they do, that’s not out of their
stock. That was given to me last night by a foreigner in yellow
canvas cloth. It jumped out of the scrap of paper in which it was
wrapped——”
“Jumped?”
“If it didn’t jump I don’t know what it did do; I can tell you it took
me aback. Miss Ashton threw it on to the floor; yet, when I woke up
this morning, it was on my forehead, though how it got there I know
no more than the dead.”
“Are you in earnest, Pollie?”
“Dead earnest. It’s my belief I left it in the bedroom, though I
might have put it in my pocket, but how it came on to my knee is
just what I can’t say.”
Mr. Paine was dividing his attention between me and the thing.
“This is very interesting, Miss Blyth. Especially as I also have had a
curious experience or two lately. Can you describe the person who
gave it you?”
I described him, to the best of my ability.
“That is—odd.”
His tone seemed to suggest that something in my description had
struck him; though what it was he did not explain.
“You’d better throw that thing out of the window,” I said. “I’ve had
enough of it.”
“Thank you; but, if you have no use for it, if you do not mind, I
should like to retain it in my own possession. It’s a curiosity, and—
I’m interested in curiosities.”
He slipped it into his waistcoat pocket. I noticed that once or twice
he felt with his fingers, as if to make sure that it still was there.
Mr. Paine was very civil to us when we reached his office—a funny,
dark little place it was. He got out some cake, and biscuits, and a
decanter of wine, and Emily and I helped ourselves, for I was
starving. Sitting at a table in front of us, he took some papers out of
a drawer, and began to look at them. Now that I could notice him
more I could see that he was tall and well set up; quite the
gentleman; with one of those clear-cut faces, and keen grey eyes,
with not a hair upon it—I mean upon his face, of course, because I
particularly observed that his teeth and eyelashes were perfect.
“Before I go into the subject on which I have ventured to bring
you here, I am afraid I shall have to ask you one or two questions,
Miss Blyth.”
His manner was just what it ought to have been, respectful, and
yet not too distant.
“Any answers I can give you, Mr. Paine, you are welcome to.”
“What was your mother’s maiden name?”
“Mary Ann Batters. She died six years ago next month, when I
was fourteen. My father’s name was Augustus. He was a most
superior person, although unfortunate in business; and though he
died five years before my mother, I’ve heard her say, almost to her
last hour, that she had married above her—which I believe she did.”
“Had your mother any relations?”
“None.”
“Think again.”
“Well, in a manner of speaking, there was one; but about him
least said soonest mended; although he was her brother—that is,
until she cast him off.”
“What was his name?”
“Benjamin. Although I do not remember ever hearing her mention
it, and, indeed, she was opposed to speaking of him at all; I learned
it was so through finding some letters of his in one of her boxes
after she was dead, and those letters I have unto this day.”
“That is fortunate; because it is as the representative of Mr.
Benjamin Batters that I am here.”
“Indeed? You don’t mean to say so. This is a surprise.”
And not a pleasant one either. I had heard of Mr. Benjamin
Batters, though not for years and years, but never had I heard
anything to his credit. A regular all-round bad lot he must have
been, up to all sorts of tricks, and worse than tricks. I had reason to
believe he had been in prison more than once, perhaps more than
twice. When you have a relation like that, and have forgotten all
about him, and are thankful to have been able to do it, you do not
like to have him come flying, all of a sudden, in your face. I was not
obliged to Mr. Paine for mentioning his name. If that was all he had
to talk about I was sorry I had come.
“I may take it, then, that Mr. Benjamin Batters is an uncle of
yours.”
“In a manner of speaking. Although, considering my mother, his
sister, cast him off, and that I myself never set eyes upon the man, it
is only by a figure of speech that you can call him so.”
“Mr. Benjamin Batters, Miss Blyth, is dead.”
“Then that alters the case. And I can only hope that he died better
than, I have been told, he lived.”
“I should mention that I myself never met Mr. Batters, nor do I,
really, know anything at all about him. My connection with him is
rather an odd one. A little more than a week ago I received this
package.” He held out a bundle of papers. “Its contents rather
surprised me. Among other things was this letter, which, with your
permission, I will read to you. ‘Great Ka Island, lat. 5° South; long.
134° East’—that is the heading of the letter; the address at which it
purports to have been written. A curious one, you will perceive it is.
There actually is such an island. It lies some three hundred miles off
the western coast of New Guinea, in the Arafura Sea; and that,
practically, is all I have hitherto been able to learn about it. I have
made inquiries, in the likeliest places, for someone who has ever
been there, but I have not, as yet, been able to light on such a
person. Ships, it appears, trade among the islands thereabouts. To
the captain of one of those the letter may have been handed. He
may have transferred it to the captain of an English vessel engaged
in the Australian trade, who bore it with him to England, and then
posted it to me; for that it was posted in London there is the
postmark on the original package to witness. I am informed,
however, that letters from those out-of-the-way corners of the world
do reach England by circuitous routes, so that, in itself, there is
nothing remarkable in that.
“There is a discrepancy, I am bound to add, which, considering
what the letter purports to be, is a distinct misfortune—it is undated.
But I will read it, and then you yourself will see my point.
 “‘Dear Sir’, it runs, ‘I write to inform you that this morning,
at 10.45, there died here, of enteric fever in my presence,
Benjamin Batters. From what I have heard him say, I believe
he was in his sixty-first year, though, latterly, he looked more,
and was, at one time, of Little Endell Street, Westminster.’”

“That was where mother lived when she was a girl,” I interposed.
Mr. Paine read on:

“‘At his particular request I send you this intimation,

together with the documents which you will find enclosed. Set
apart from the world as here I am I cannot say when an
opportunity will arise which will enable me to despatch you
this, nor by what route it will reach you; but, by the mercy of
an All-seeing Providence, I trust that it will reach you in the
end.
“‘Mr. Batters suffered greatly towards the close; but he bore
his sufferings with exemplary patience. He died, as he had
lived, at peace with all men.
“‘I am, Dear Sir, your obedient servant,
“‘Arthur Lennard, Missionary.

“‘P.S.—I may add that I have just buried poor Batters, with
Christian rites, as the shadows lengthened, in our little
graveyard which is within hearing of the sea.’”

Mr. Paine ceased; he looked at us, and we at him.

“That’s a funny letter,” I remarked.
“Funny!” cried Emily. “Pollie, how can you say so? Why, it’s a
romance.”
“Precisely,” said Mr. Paine. His voice was a little dry. “It is, perhaps,
because it is so like a romance that it seems—odd.”
I had a fancy that he had meant to use another word instead of
“odd;” I wondered what it was.
 “According to that letter my Uncle Benjamin must have changed a
good deal before he died; I never heard of his being at peace with
anyone. Mother used to say that he would fight his left hand against
his right rather than not fight at all.”
“From what you have been telling us a marked alteration must
have taken place in his character. But then, when people are dying,
they are apt to change; to become quite different beings—especially
in the eyes of those who are looking on.” Again there was that
dryness in the speaker’s tone. I felt sure there was a twinkle in his
eye. “You will see, Miss Blyth, that this letter is, to all intents and
purposes, a certificate of your uncle’s death; you will understand,
therefore, how unfortunate it is that it should be undated. We are,
thus, in this position; that, although his death, and even his burial,
are certified, we do not know when either event took place; except
that, as it would appear from the context, he was buried on the
same day on which he died—which, in such a climate, is not unlikely.
Our only means of even remotely guessing at the period of his
decease is by drawing deductions from the date of his will.”
“His will! You don’t mean to say that my uncle Benjamin left a
will?”
“He did; and here it is.”
“I expect that that’s all he did leave.”
“You are mistaken; he left a good deal more.”
“To whom did he leave it?”
“It is to give you that very information, Miss Blyth, that I ventured
to bring you here.”
I gasped. This was getting interesting. A cold shiver went down
my back. I had never heard of a will in our family before, there
having been no occasion for such a thing. And to think of Uncle
Benjamin having been the first to start one! As the proverb says, you
never can tell from a man’s beginning what his end will be—and you
cannot.
Emily came a little closer, and she took my hand in hers, and she
gave it a squeeze, and she said:
“Never mind, Pollie! bear up!”
 I did not know what she meant, but it was very nice of her,
though I had not the slightest intention of doing anything else. But,
as my mother used to say, human sympathy is at all times precious.
So I gave her squeeze for squeeze. And I wished that Tom was
there.
 CHAPTER VI.
SOLE RESIDUARY LEGATEE.

Mr. Paine unfolded a large sheet of blue paper.

“This is, it appears, the last will and testament of your late uncle,
Benjamin Batters. It is, as, when you have heard it, I think you will
yourself agree, a somewhat singular document. It came with the
letter from Mr. Lennard which I have just now read you. It is, so far
as I know, authentic; but it is my duty to inform you that the whole
affair is more than a little irregular. This document seems to be a
holograph—that is, I take it that it is in your uncle’s own writing. Do
you recognise his handwriting?”
He gave me the paper. I glanced at it. Emily peeped over my
shoulder.
“Well, I shouldn’t exactly like to go so far as that, but I have some
letters of his, and, so far as I remember, the writing seems about the
same. But you can see them if you like; then you will be able to
compare it.”
“I should be very much obliged, Miss Blyth, if you would allow me
to do so. A very important point would be gained if we could prove
the writing. As matters stand at present I am in a position in which I
am able to prove absolutely nothing. Mr. Batters was a stranger to
me; he seems, also, to have been a stranger to you; I can find
nobody who knew him. All we have to go upon is this letter from the
other end of the world, from a person of whom no one knows
anything, and which may or may not be genuine. Should another
claimant arise we should be placed in a very awkward situation.”
“Is there going to be another claimant? And what is there to
claim?”
“So far as I know there is going to be none; but in legal matters it
is necessary to be prepared for every emergency. As to what there is
to claim, I will tell you.”
 I gave him back the blue paper. He began to read. Emily came
closer. I could feel that she was all of a flutter.

“‘This is the last will and testament of me, Benjamin

Batters.
“‘On condition that she does as I hereby direct I give and
bequeath to my niece, Mary Blyth, the daughter of my sister,
Mary Ann Batters, who married Augustus Blyth, and who
when I last heard tell of her was assistant at Cardew &
Slaughter’s, a life income of Four Hundred and Eighty Eight
Pounds Nineteen Shillings and Sixpence a year, interest of my
money invested in Consols.’”

Mr. Paine stopped.

“I may say that bonds producing that amount were enclosed in
the package. Here they are.”
“Four Hundred and Eighty Eight Pounds Nineteen Shillings and
Sixpence a year!” said Emily. “I congratulate you, Pollie!”
She kissed me, right in front of Mr. Paine. For my part, I felt a
queer something steal all over me. My heart began to beat. To think
of Uncle Benjamin, of all people in the world, leaving me such a
fortune as that! And at the very moment when all my expectations in
this world amounted to exactly fifteen shillings! There need be no
more waiting for Tom and me. We would be married before the year
was out, or I would know the reason why.
Mr. Paine went on.
“The will is by no means finished, ladies. The greater, and more
remarkable part of it is to follow. When you have heard what it is I
am not sure that Miss Blyth will consider herself entitled to
congratulations only.”
What could he mean? Had the old rascal changed his mind in the
middle of his own will?
“‘This money,’ Mr. Batters goes on to say, ‘was earned by hard
labour, the sweat of my brow, and sufferings untold, so don’t let her
go and frivol it away as if it was a case of lightly come and lightly
go.’”
 “If that’s true, Uncle Benjamin must have altered, because I’ve
heard my mother say, over and over again, that he never could be
induced to do an honest day’s work in all his life.”
“People sometimes do alter—as I have observed. ‘On condition,
also, that she does as I tell her,’ continues Mr. Batters, ‘I bequeath to
her the life tenancy of my house, 84, Camford Street, Westminster,
together with the use of the furniture it contains.’”
“What!” interrupted Emily, “a house and furniture too. Why, Pollie,
what else can you want?”
I wondered myself. But I was soon to know. Mr. Paine read on:

“‘I give and bequeath the above to my niece, Mary Blyth,

on these conditions. She is to live in the house at 84, Camford
Street. She is never to sleep out of it. She is never to be away
from it after nine o’clock at night or before nine o’clock in the
morning. She is only to have one companion, and she must
be a woman. They are to have no visitors, neither she nor her
companion. She is to choose a companion, and stick to her. If
the companion dies, or leaves her, she is not to have another.
She is afterwards to live in the house alone. She is not to let
any woman, except her companion, enter the house. She is
not to allow any man, under any circumstances whatever, to
come inside the house, or to cross the doorstep. These are
my wishes and orders. If she disobeys any one of them, then
may my curse light on her, and I will see that it does, and the
house, and the income, and everything, is to be taken from
her, and given to the Society for Befriending Sailors.
“‘Signed, Benjamin Batters.’”

“That, Miss Blyth, is what purports to be your uncle’s will.”

“But,” I gasped, “what is that at the end about stopping in the
house, and letting no one come in, and all the rest of it?”
“Those are the conditions on which you are to inherit. Before,
however, touching on them I should like to point out in what respect
the will seems to me to be most irregular. First of all, it is undated.
There could hardly be a more serious flaw. There is nothing to show
if it was made last week or fifty years ago. In the interim all sorts of
things may have happened to render it null and void. Then a
signature to a will requires two witnesses; this has none. Then the
wording is extremely loose. For instance, should you fail to fulfil
certain conditions, the property is to pass to the Society for
Befriending Sailors. So far as I can learn there is no such society.
Societies for befriending sailors there are in abundance, but there is
not one of that exact name, and it would become a moot point
which one of them the testator had in his mind’s eye.”
“All of which amounts to—what?”
“Well, it amounts to this. You can receive the money referred to,
and live in the house in question, at your own risk, until someone
comes forward with a better title. It will not need a very good title, I
am sorry to say, Miss Blyth, to be better than that which is conferred
on you by this document. I am not saying this by way of advice, but
simply as a statement of the case as it appears to me.”
“What I want to know is, what’s the meaning of those conditions?
I suppose, by the way, there is such a house.”
“There certainly is. Camford Street is an old, and not particularly
reputable street, one end of which leads into the Westminster Bridge
Road. No. 84 is in a terrace. From the exterior—which is as much as
I have seen of it—it looks as if it had not been occupied for a
considerable period of time. Indeed, according to the neighbours, no
one has lived in it for, some say ten, others fifteen, and others
twenty years.”
“That sounds nice,” cut in Emily. “If no one has lived in it for all
that time I shouldn’t be surprised if it wanted a little cleaning.”
“Not at all improbable, from what it looks like outside. The
shutters are up at the window—on that point, I may mention, a man
who has a small chandler’s shop on the opposite side of the road,
tells rather a singular story. He informed me that, to the best of his
knowledge and belief, the last occupant of the house was a man
named Robertson. He was an old man. Mr. Kennard, my informant,
says that what became of him he does not know. He did not move;
there was no attempt to let the place; he simply ceased to be seen
about. Nor has a living soul been seen in the house for years. But,
he says, some months ago, he is not sure how many, when he got
up one morning to open his shop, on looking across the road he saw
that all the windows inside were screened by shutters. He declares
that not only were there no shutters there the night before, but dirty
old blinds which were dropping to pieces, but that he never had
seen shutters there before, and, indeed, he doubted if there were
such things at any other house in the terrace. If his tale is true, it
seems an odd one.”
“It sounds,” said Emily, “as if the house were haunted.”
“Without going so far as that, it does seem as if the shutters could
hardly have got there of their own accord, and that someone must
have been inside on that particular night, at any rate. No one,
however, was seen, either then or since. There the shutters are, as
one can perceive in spite of the accumulated grime which almost
hides the windows. No one seems to know who the house belongs
to, or ever did belong to; and I would observe that, since no title
deeds were in the package, or any hint that such things were in
existence, we have only Mr. Batters’ bare word that the property was
his. I should hasten to add that there is a small parcel addressed to
Miss Blyth, whose contents may throw light, not only on that matter,
but on others also.”
He handed me a parcel done up in brown paper. It was addressed,
in very bad writing, “To be given to my niece, Mary Blyth, and to be
opened by her only.” I cut the string, and removed the wrapper. In it
was a common white wood box. Emily leaned over my shoulder.
“Whatever is inside?” she asked.
The first thing I saw when I lifted the lid, gave me a start, and I
own it—there, staring me in the face, was the own brother of the
little painted thing which was in the packet which the foreigner had
slipped between my fingers.
“Why,” I cried, “if there isn’t another!”
“Another!” Mr. Paine gave a jump. “That’s very odd.” He was
fishing about in his waistcoat pocket. “I thought you gave me the
one you had.”
“So I did. You put it in the pocket in which you’re feeling.”
“I thought I did. But—have you noticed me taking it out?”
 “You’ve not taken it out, of that I’m sure.”
“But—I must have done. It’s gone.”
His face was a study. I hardly knew whether to laugh or not.
“It strikes me,” he remarked, “that someone is playing a trick on
us; and, as I’m not over fond of tricks which I don’t understand, I’ll
put an end to this little joke once and for all.”
There was a fire burning in the grate. Laying the box down on a
chair, taking the little painted thing between his finger and thumb,
off he marched towards the fireplace. As he was going, all of a
sudden he gave a little jump, as I suppose, loosened his hold, and
down the thing dropped on to the floor. He stood staring at his hand,
and at the place where it had fallen, as if startled.
“Where’s it gone?” he asked.
“It must have rolled under the table.” This was Emily.
But it had not. We searched in every nook and cranny. It had
vanished, as completely as if it had never been.
“This is a pretty state of affairs. If it goes on much longer we shall
begin to take to seeing things. If the rest of the contents of the box
are of the same pattern, you might have kept it, Mr. Paine, for all I
care.”
But they were not. The next thing I took out was a key. It was a
little one, and the queerest shape I ever saw. It was fastened to a
steel chain; at one end of the chain was a padlock. Attached to the
handle of the key was a kind of flying label; on it this was written:

“To Mary Blyth. This is the key of 84, Camford Street. The
lock is high up on the left-hand side of the door. There is no
keyhole. You will see a green spot. Press the key against the
spot and it will enter the lock. Push home as far as it will go,
then jerk upwards, and the door will open. Don’t try to enter
when anyone is looking. Directly you get it, tear off this label
and burn it. Then pass the chain about your waist,
underneath your dress, and snap the padlock. If you lose the
key, or let it go for a moment from your possession, may the
gods burn up the marrow in your bones. And they will.”
 “That’s cheerful reading,” I observed, when I had read the label to
an end. I passed it to Mr. Paine.
“It is curious,” he admitted. “In which respect it’s of a piece with
all the rest.”
When Emily read it her eyes and mouth opened as wide as they
very well could do.
“I never!” she cried. “Isn’t it mysterious?”
“What shall I do?” I asked, when the chain and key had been
returned to me.
Mr. Paine considered.
“You had better do as instructed—burn the label; that is, after we
have taken a copy. There is nothing said against your doing that;
and, if you have a copy, it will prevent your memory playing you
false. As for the key itself—will it do you any harm to fasten it to
your waist in the manner directed?”
“Except that it’s a bit too mysterious for my taste. Some folks like
mysteries; I don’t.”
“My dear,” cut in Emily, “they’re the salt of life!”
“Then I don’t like salt. Perhaps it’s because I’m a plain person that
I like plain things. Here’s more mystery.”
The only thing left in the box was an envelope. When I took it out
I found that on it this was written:

“This envelope is for Mary Blyth, and is not to be opened by

her till she is inside 84, Camford Street.”

I showed it to Mr. Paine, who was copying the label.

“What shall I do with that?”
“As you are told. Open it when you are in the house, and
afterwards, if it is not expressly forbidden, you can, if you choose,
communicate the contents to me.”
While he copied the label I went with Emily into an inner room,
which turned out to be his bedroom; put the chain about my waist
inside my bodice, and closed the padlock; and it was only when I
had done so that I discovered that it had no key, so that how I was
to open it, and get the chain off again, goodness only knew. Emily
kept talking all the while.
“Pollie, isn’t it all just lovely? In spite of what you say, your Uncle
Benjamin must have been a really remarkable man. It’s like a
romance.”
“I wish my Uncle Benjamin hadn’t been such a remarkable man,
then he might have left me the money and the house without the
romance. Bother your romance, is what I say.”
“You’re a dear,” she affirmed, and she held up her hands—and
very pretty hands they were. “But you have no soul.”
“If that’s what you call soul,” I answered, “I’m glad I haven’t.”
When we got back to Mr. Paine, I began at him again.
“Now let me clearly understand about those conditions. Do you
mean to say that I’m to stop in the house all alone?”
“You may have a companion—who must be a woman.”
“I’ll be your companion! Do let me be your companion, Pollie!”
I looked at Emily, who stood in front of me with flushed cheeks
and eager eyes; as pretty a picture as you could wish to see.
“Done!” We shook hands upon it. “I only hope you won’t have too
much romance before you’ve been my companion long.”
“No fear of that! The more there is the more I’ll like it.”
I was not so certain. She spoke as if she were sure of herself. But,
for my part, I felt that it remained to be seen. I went on:
“What was that about being in before nine?”
“You are never to sleep out of the house. You are always to be in
it before nine at night, and never to leave it before nine in the
morning.”
“That’s a nice condition, upon my word!” I turned to Emily. “What
do you think of that? It’s worse than Cardew & Slaughter’s.”
“It does seem rather provoking. But”—there was a twinkle in her
eye—“there may be ways of getting out of that?”
“What was that about no man being allowed in the house?”
“No man, under any circumstances, is to be allowed to cross the
doorstep; nor, indeed, is anyone, except the lady you have chosen to
be your companion.”
“But what about my Tom?”
 “Your—Tom? Who is he?”
“Mr. Tom Cooper is the gentleman to whom I am engaged to be
married.”
“I am afraid that, by the terms of the will, no exception is made
even in his favour.”
I did not answer. But I told myself that we would see about that.
If, as Emily hinted, there were ways of getting the better of one
condition, it should not be my fault if means were not found to get
the better of the other too.
Almost immediately afterwards we started for the house; all three
of us again in the four-wheeler which had been waiting for us the
whole of the time. I wondered who was going to pay the fare. It
would make a hole in my fifteen shillings.