The Diary Of Pamela D.

Pamela spent most of the time looking out the window, watching the countryside go by. The weather was dark and dismal, mixed rain and snow falling incessantly, and Pamela found that her mood was beginning to reflect this condition until Mrs. Dewhurst finally noticed and put an arm around her.

'My dear, I am sorry! What was I thinking? You must be terminally bored. I don't know whether you noticed it or not, what with this infernal weather and all, but we crossed the border into Yorkshire almost ten minutes ago. You know you're in Yorkshire when you see all these low, rolling hills and flocks of sheep. There are moors in Yorkshire as well. If you ever want to see something truly bleak, take a good, long look at our gorse-infested moors in the dead of winter!' She noticed that Pamela was watching a passing village with frank wonder.

'It looks so old-fashioned! Are they all like that?'

Mrs. Dewhurst smiled broadly. 'Most assuredly! You are in a very old-fashioned corner of the world, Pamela Dee! Some of those cottages were built when your colonial ancestors in North America were still traipsing about the bush, forging a new life for themselves while trying their utmost to avoid being scalped!'

This remark had the unintended effect of making Pamela feel even more isolated. She had no knowledge whatever of her family's past, and knew almost nothing about the country, area and city she had lived in all her life. Her past was as blank as though he had no memory. Even her name, she mused. It sounded for all the world like an initial that should have stood for something but didn't, as though some careless ancestor had lost her identity for her before she was born.

'And here were are!' Mrs. Dewhurst said suddenly and unexpectedly, dispelling the girl's bleak mood like a burst bubble. 'Dewhurst Manor, the ancestral home of the Dewhurst family. Hasn't moved an inch in over three hundred years, and looks it.'

Pamela could only gape. 'I . . . I thought you said we were going to a house!'

Even Theo couldn't suppress a chuckle.

'My dear Pamela,' Mrs. Dewhurst said, 'that is a house. Don't look so overwhelmed! There's nothing in it that you haven't seen before. The bedrooms have beds and dressing tables, the dining room has a table and chairs, the kitchen looks much like kitchens everywhere, the floors are made of wood and covered with carpet in places; there's just more of everything, that's all. Don't worry. You'll get used to it soon enough. Too soon, if you ask me. But come, here we are. Come and get your first look at your new home.'