Ellie arrived at Pennyfeather Papers just after half past 10, the bells of St. Michael’s telling her so. There may have been a trace of strawberry jam at the corner of her lips from Willaby's. The tart had been darker and crunchier than usual. Her hands were full, carpet bag with her most cherished items, family keepsakes and a bible. In her other, she carried a suitcase with her clothes, specifically the lovely green dress she had worn yesterday and her current Sunday best.  Ellie hadn’t bothered to mention that Christine had purchased basically a whole new wardrobe of clothes for her, rendering her old ones spare. She didn’t want to make her other sister's jealous.  Maybe her friend Anne Ward could use her old dresses? 

Ellie wore her spare black smock with the pair boots she had received yesterday. She looked like a mourner at funeral service, yet no one had died, and she was not wilfully defying Christine’s prohibition of the colour black. Rather, she didn’t want to sully that beautiful green dress given she would be cleaning an attic. The black smocks would be great for the filthiest of household tasks.

She pushed the door open, the bell tinkling lightly.

“Miss Pennyfeather? It’s me, Ellie Russell.” The girl announced, her eyes adjusting to the relative gloom of the shaded stacks of books.