The Visitor (Short Fiction)

It was like watching the Cavendish home awake from a long slumber. A flurry of arms and legs prepared for the arrival of an unusual visitor. Upstairs, Ruth and Mathilda joked and japed as they labored to clean out the dust and cobwebs from one of the seldom-used guest rooms. In the doorway, a young girl, all elbows and scraped knees, appeared; She stood and watched silently while Ruth and Mathilda gossipped about the visitor.

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