Clare felt compelled to point out the Weavers were still upset. They were not only regular customers but regular church goers and might make trouble for Arabella with the congregation and minister/priest. Ara was non-plussed though.

"Oh that! Oh they're just Philistines, them Weavers, and should be slewed with a jawbone of a ass. Ol' Shakespeare was always using cuss words, don't stop it bein' high toned stuff."

"Goodness sakes, Ara, are you advocating killing them? Do not be silly," Clara frowned, leave it to the girl to be overdramatic.

"Oh well, I don't wanna lose you customers, I'll go and say sorry before they leave!" she offered and flew out of the door to the front of the diner before Clara could stop her. The Weavers had already departed though. But Ara was back fast enough, scuttling back into the kitchen again and literally sheltered herself behind Clara, peeping back around her into the seated area.

"Now what?" Clara sighed, if it wasn't one thing with the girl it was another.

"Oh Lawd she comin' Clara! It's that blind girl, I'm scared of her! I'm scared she'll see me! I... I..." Arabella struggled to put the source of her angst into words "I don't know what to say to her!"

Arabella Mudd - speechless? That would be the day!

"Blind girl?" Clara frowned, "We do not have blind girls in Kalispell, least that I know?"

"You'd better go out and see to her - I'll hide out o' sight in here and do the dishes!" she decided, pouncing on the pile of dirty dishes that she was about to wash up anyway, and looking around nervously, like the sightless young woman might glide into the kitchen at any second and put her on the spot.

The bell tinkled and a young woman wearing a bandage around her eyes and using a stick to feel her way walked quite confidently into the place.

Clara reached for a towel to wipe her hands then tossed it onto the table, "I will handle this then. Just keep working, Ara."

Stepping into the dining room once more Clara spotted what was obviously the blind girl alright although wearing a blindfold instead of dark glasses. Well, it wasn't like Clara had any experience with blind people anyhow. But she was certainly not terrified of one, instead more sympathetic. Poor thing.

"Good day, miss and welcome to the Lick Skittle Diner. Are you here for something to eat, drink, or both?" she started as she got closer.

"I can guide you to a table if you wish? My name is Clara."

"So, er, what happens at this 'Young Ladies Group'?" he asked, making it pretty clear he had agreed to something on his ward's behalf without really knowing what it was.

Ben smiled, "Don't worry. With my aunt running the group you can be sure that everything will be above board."

He took a sip of his coffee before going on, "Now, what I plan is it for to be a theatrical group. That debacle with the tabloid those young ladies tried at that meeting is a prime example why they need some guidance, especially where deportment is concerned. I am sure that your Bridget, will benefit greatly from learning such things from a lady."

Another grin appeared on his face, "Besides, I think that you'll agree that if Miss Bridget is seen as a respectable and accomplished young lady, you will be able to find her a suitable husband more easily."

Before he could go on any further, he was distracted by the sight of Arabella returning to the room and leaving just as quickly when the front door to the diner opened. Ben looked over to see a young lady with a bandage over her eyes. The only person in town it could be was Frances Grimes, the sister of that no-account Frank. Since he had arrived in Kalispell, he had made a few friends, who were eager to let him know the latest gossip, so he knew that the Grimes had only been here a short time. As a professional gambler, it was always good to know about potential playing partners, especially if you were staying in one place for a while. Frank Grimes was a person he had no intention of playing a game of cards with any time in the foreseeable future.

Clara returned and went to help the girl, which was good as he wasn't prepared to do. Although he felt sorry for the girl, there was no way he was going to get involved with her. Maybe it was the coward in him but he wasn't about to risk his life for her...well at least not on purpose.

Seeing that Clara was taking care of her, he went back to his breakfast.

When Clara finally came back into the kitchen area with the order, Arabella was all over her with questions.

"What did she do? What did she say? Why's she talkin' to Mr Simons? What did Lorenz, er, Mr Crabbe say to her?!!" then she gasped out loud with the remembrance of something "Oh! And I saw when she held your hand! Did it feel funny?!!"

She peeped around Clara again, biting her lip as she observed the blindfolded girl talking to Ben.

"She's sorta pretty, wonder what she looks like under that eye bandage thingamajig?" she wondered out loud. "Say, when you go back out there, see if'n you can peep over the top of it and see what's underneath." she suggested, consumed with a curiosity as potent as her fear.

"Please take my hand, I can't see yours." Frances said, holding out hers straight in front of her.

"I can guide you to a table if you wish? My name is Clara," the young woman stuck out her hand and grasped the blind girl's.

"Thank you, Clara. My name's Frances, Frances Grimes, I was hoping..." her stick whacked Crabbe on the ankle bone and the man let out an inadvertent "Ow!!"

"Oh careful dear, you struck a customer," Clara pointed out without a hint of anger.

Turned out this Miss Grimes knew Mr. Crabbe, small world. Clara just remained standing there then as the blind girl conversed with the man. Crabbe didn't take the whack personal and in fact kindly offered to pay for a breakfast for the young miss.

The girl forgot all about her then, enchanted by Mr. Simons being described as a theatre manager? There was no theatre in Kalispell, Clara silently noted. Fortunately Crabbe rescued her from standing there by adding the young lady would take the same breakfast that she had earlier served the two men.

"Very well," Clara turned and left them to their talk of the theatre (?) then headed back into the kitchen.

~*~  ~*~  ~*~

As soon as Clara entered the kitchen, Arabella was on her like a burr stuck to clothing.

"What did she do? What did she say? Why's she talkin' to Mr Simons? What did Lorenz, er, Mr Crabbe say to her?!!" then she gasped out loud with the remembrance of something "Oh! And I saw when she held your hand! Did it feel funny?!!"

"Never mind all that, we have another breakfast order, you do the eggs, I will do the bacon," Clara got to work.

"And for your information, her hand felt perfectly normal," the no nonsense young Mrs. Lutz pointed out what should be the obvious.

"She's sorta pretty, wonder what she looks like under that eye bandage thingamajig?" Arabella wondered out loud. "Say, when you go back out there, see if'n you can peep over the top of it and see what's underneath."

"I most certainly will not, that would be extremely rude," scoffed Clara, "Get going on those eggs, you were the one who volunteered to help."

"Never mind all that, we have another breakfast order, you do the eggs, I will do the bacon," Clara got to work.

"Aw!" Arabella pouted, disappointed by the lack of gossip about the alien creature in the dining room.

"And for your information..."

Arabella gasped with excitement, dashing back to Clara clutching two eggs in her hands. "Yes???"

"... her hand felt perfectly normal," the no nonsense young Mrs. Lutz pointed out what should be the obvious.

"Hmmm, interesting!" frowned Arabella, fondling the hard smooth surfaces of the egg shells meditatively "I though they'd be sort of clammy, like she'd get the sweats 'cause she was worried about walking face first into a door or wall all the time."

"She's sorta pretty, wonder what she looks like under that eye bandage thingamajig?" Arabella wondered out loud. "Say, when you go back out there, see if'n you can peep over the top of it and see what's underneath."

"I most certainly will not, that would be extremely rude," scoffed Clara, "Get going on those eggs, you were the one who volunteered to help."

Arabella nodded and got the eggs into the fry pan. "Oh dash!" she exclaimed "I done broke one o' the yolks! Oh well, guess she ain't gonna notice!"

"Hey, Clara" she shouted over, cooking eggs was starting to bore her, "Let's both close our eyes and see if we can cook breakfast without bein' able to see, like a blind people!"

Arabella nodded and got the eggs into the fry pan. "Oh dash!" she exclaimed "I done broke one o' the yolks! Oh well, guess she ain't gonna notice!"

"It is fine, just cook them properly. Less chatter, more concentration on what you are doing please," Clara replied as she did her part in the breakfast prep.

"Hey, Clara" she shouted over, cooking eggs was starting to bore her, "Let's both close our eyes and see if we can cook breakfast without bein' able to see, like a blind people!"

"First off, proper grammar, it is 'like a blind person' not people," Clara pointed out , "And secondly we are here in this kitchen to cook proper meals for paying customers. That is a responsibility I take most seriously. Kindly be more....adult."

Just this short time Ara had been in the diner now had definitely convinced Clara she would never hire the girl to be a regular employee.

"Mr Simons, the theatre manager?!" she beamed (word sure had gotten around fast) "How wonderful to meet you, Sir."

"Yes, the theatre manager," Ben answered. It amazed him how fast things got around in town. In the future, he would probably be a bit more cautious when he was planning something.

He took Frances' hand and gently shook it, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Grimes."

Letting go of her hand, he returned to his breakfast and continued to eat while he thought of what to say next. He couldn't personally invite the girl to join the group as her brother might get the wrong idea. Frank Grimes with the wrong idea was something he really didn't want to contemplate. Turning to Frances, he smiled, hoping that she would hear the pleasantness of his speech that it caused, "If you are interested in joining the ladies group my aunt Rebecca Wentworth will be running, I can get her to send you an invitation or she can personally come to see you."

"First off, proper grammar, it is 'like a blind person' not people," Clara pointed out , "And secondly we are here in this kitchen to cook proper meals for paying customers. That is a responsibility I take most seriously. Kindly be more....adult."

"Ain't it funny, Clara, I'm always makin' mistakes like that when I talk in my regular voice, but when I do 'personations of folk, I can speak right if I needs to. Listen to this:..." the gangly, scruffy teenager suddenly stood up ramrod straight at the frying pan and repositioned the spachelor in her hand like she was holding a dainty quill, then started to speak in a refined, maybe even pretentious voice, very unlike her own, with no trace of a southern accent:

"Arabella, would you please desist from precipitating those most distastful and less that utilitarian anecdotal confabulations. I find them most distressing!" All right, the words might not make sense, but anyone who knew Clara would have recognised the rhythm and tone of her voice.