she said, âmaybe it will feel better under the wig. Youâve just got to keep it hidden till you find Black Luis. Then he and Marlowe can do something about it. Theyâre awfully clever about all sorts of things.â
She brought scissors and a comb to his stateroom and started to work. But as the first blue curl fell to the floor, she wailed tearfully, âOh, I just canât cut them. Theyâre so beautiful!â
âBeautiful my eye,â he muttered. âIâm sick of âem! Whack âem off!â
After that she surprised him by giving him an expert trim, which relieved the discomfort of the wig without making it too loose. When she had finished, she studied him critically a moment, then suddenly giggled.
âSo Iâm funny,â he grumbled. âWhat is it?â
âIâm not laughing at you , silly. Iâm laughing at us .â
âWell, I guess we are a sort of funny pair, camarada .â
âFunny! ¡Madre mÃa! Here we are, just a couple of little kids, people would sayâpeople that donât know us. Because weâre smaller than we should be, and look younger than we are. And we act like kids most of the time. But weâre not, really. Not inside.â
âNo,â he admitted. âWeâre not.â
âInside,â she said, âyouâre grown-up and know more than lots of the smartest people. And me, Iâm old, old, old inside, and know things youâll never know. And why? Iâll tell you a secret: I really did have an Irish grandmother. She was a daughter of the Shee.â
Ronnie, carefully picking up blue curls and putting them into a bag to be thrown overboard, jerked his head up at the word. The tiny girl said, âI donât know how itâs spelled, but thatâs how itâs pronounced. Have you ever heard of them?â
âSure, Iâve read about âem,â he said.â The name was spelled S-i-d-h-e in the book, but pronounced âShee.â They are sort of mythical Celtic beings who were supposed to have all kinds of special powers.â
âMy grandmother had special powers, and she wasnât mythical,â the girl retorted. âI inherited what I have from her. And I really can make people have warts.â
âI didnât say you couldnât,â he told her.
âNo, but you thought it, and thatâs practically the same as saying it.â
âOkay. Letâs say you have special powers. Then why canât you use them to keep people like Bernardo from hurting you and sending you away?â
âBecause Iâm too little ,â she said. âI canât get up enoughâwhatâs the word?â
âSteam?â he suggested.
She giggled. âThatâs good enough. Steam. When I grow bigger Iâll have more steam, and Iâll be able to flatten Bernardo, though of course I wouldnât hurt him, even though I hate him. My grandmother said I must never use my power to really hurt or take advantage of someone, or Iâll lose it. Though of course itâs all right to help others. Last year, when Marlowe and Black Luis were trying to get me out of Santo Domingo, I practically wore myself to a frazzleââ
âWait a minute. You say Marlowe was with you?â
âOf course he was with us. Without his help we couldnât possibly have managed!â
Ronnie scowled at her. âThatâs funny. The captain didnât mention him when he told me about how you escaped.â
âThe captain has never even seen Marlowe. Thatâs why.â
âOh. Whatâs he like? What sort of person is he?â
âHeâheâs not exactly a person, Boy Blue, though I think of him as that. I mean,â she added hesitantly, âheâs more of aâa personage.â
Ronnie stared at her. âAre you trying to tell me heâs not real?â
âOf course heâs real, silly!
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