Nelly Channell

On a bleak November day, a lone sumac brightens the mist‑shrouded fields as Rhoda Farren drives toward her childhood home, a moss‑covered cottage that still holds the echoes of youthful games with her cousin Helen. Now an educated companion to a wealthy widow, Rhoda is returning with a modest annuity and a sense of entitlement, yet she dreads the intrusion of a two‑month‑old infant who will share her rooms and her routine. The narrative captures her uneasy anticipation of a rivalry with the baby, the pull of familiar gardens, and the quiet tension that settles over a house that has long been a refuge from the world.

The story also introduces Helen, who has married a modest clerk and lives nearby with her own family, while Rhoda has spent years apart, absorbed in solitary reading and the comforts of a cushy London life. As the old widow’s health wanes, Rhoda confronts the fragile ties that bind her to both family and duty, setting the stage for a delicate balance between self‑indulgence and the unexpected demands of home.