Little Lucy

Lucy Alberto sprang up in bed huddling the bedclothes round her , her heart beating drastically as she stared about the room . Her rest had been a fitful one, haunted by nightmares; she'd been so tired when she came to bed that she had been unable to sleep, and only after a very long time had she finally dropped off.

And now something had wakened her - some alien sound, not connected with the muted roar of traffic outside or the passing and repassing of footsteps in Bilbao Road, mingled with the creakings and weird noises always associated with old buildings. The nervous strain of the last few days had been terrific. Lucy felt that she could not possibly exist through any more. Most of the people who lived in the big old - fashioned boarding - house had gone to the country when the epidemic had intensified and now there were many empty rooms.

Lucy's uncle had left Madrid for a destination in the north of Spain, but her aunt still remained. She was not leaving her home, she deciared, for what was nothing more or less than a very bad epidemic of the usual flu. What, scuttle down to the country, leaving her furniture and precious belongings to the mercy of thieves who were just waiting for such an opportunity to break in and steal the lot. And if she stayed Lucy must stay with her. Lucy could never remember the time when she had not been tired; even her young and healthy body crumpled under the heavy tasks Aunt Lilian Moreno imposed on her.