Black Hearts in Battersea by Joan Aiken Page B

not wanted," said Midwink sourly, "But you'd best guard your tongue, Madam Sophie—a pretty face isn't the only passport to fortune here, as you may find!"
    "Who's he?" asked Simon, as Midwink walked ahead of them and took a turning to the right.
    "Oh, he is the duke's valet—he is of no account," Sophie said impatiently. "He would be turned off it it were not for his knack of tying cravats. The duke has grown too shortsighted to tie his own, and Midwink is the only person who can arrange them to his liking. But tell me, how do you come to be in London? Did you ever go back to Gloober's Poor Farm? What have you been doing all these years? Oh, there is so
much
to ask you! But I must run to my lady with these things—she is waiting to embroider them. Can we meet tomorrow—it is my evening off, are you free then? Ah, that is good, excellent, I will meet you, where? Not too near the castle or Midwink may come bothering—Cobb's Yard? Yes indeed I know it, that will do very well. Now, here are the stables and there is Mr. Waters. Good evening, Mr. Waters, here is my friend Simon who has brought back your horse."
    "That ain't no horse, Miss Sophie, that's as neat a little
filly as yourself," said Mr. Waters.

    "Ah, bah, horses and fillies are all the same to me! Simon, it is
wonderful
to see you again. Now I must fly. Till tomorrow!" She stood on tiptoe to give Simon a quick peck on the cheek, then ran off with her basket.
    "And where's Jem Suds got to?" asked Mr. Waters. ("Come up, my beauty, then, hold still while I put a saddle on your pernickety back.")
    Simon explained about the kicked knee and Mrs. Cobb's tar poultice.
    "That lad's born to get his neck broke," sighed Mr. Waters, tightening a girth. "Ah, there's his young lordship, you just brought the mare back in time—"
    "Aren't you ready yet, Waters?" called an irritable voice, and a boy came out of a doorway. Simon recognized Justin, the unwilling art student. He swung himself rather clumsily into the saddle, then looked down at Simon. "Oh, hallo," he said carelessly. "What are you doing here?" He did not, however, wait for an answer, but gave a flip with his crop and trotted across the stable yard and out through a gateway that led into the park.
    "Wait, your lordship!" called Waters. "I've got Firefly saddled, I'll be with you directly." He led out another mount, but Justin impatiently called back, "I don't want you, Waters, I want to be on my own," set spurs to the mare, and galloped off into the dusk.
    "Pesky young brat!" growled Waters. "He knows he's not allowed out alone. Now I suppose I shall have to chase him all over the park, afore he breaks his neck."
    "Who was that?" Simon asked.

    "Young Lord Bakerloo, the Dook's nevvy. He's the hair, as his Grace never had none o' his own ... Good-by, my lad, thank you for bringing back the filly" Waters called as he rode out of the gate.
    Simon made his way back through the tunnel.
    The elderly gentleman was still slung up on his painter's cradle halfway along, gazing at the roof through a magnifying glass. Simon had forgotten about him, and was rather startled at being addressed by a voice above his head as he waded through the largest puddle.
    "It's rather damp down there, isn't it?"
    "It
is
rather damp," Simon agreed, pausing and looking up politely.
    "You find it inconvenient?" the old man asked, betraying a certain anxiety.
    "Bless you, no!" Simon said cheerfully.
    The man brightened up at once.
    "You don't mind a bit of damp? You're a boy after my own heart!
I
don't mind damp either. In fact I
like
damp. You don't find it troublesome? That's excellent—excellent."
    "I suppose it's a bit of a nuisance for females," Simon suggested, thinking of Sophie's white cambric skirts. The man's face fell.
    "For females? You think it is? Yes, perhaps—perhaps." He sighed. "Still, you yourself don't object to it—that's very gratifying. It's always gratifying to find a kindred spirit. Do you, I wonder, play chess?"
    "Yes I