Tattycoram by Audrey Thomas Page A

thrust upon me for ten years. And now I would be dismissed, I knew it, sent back to the hospital without a character, fit only to be a scullery maid or worse. And Matron and Mr. Brownlow, my family as well — disgracing myself before all those who had believed in me. I sobbed and sobbed.
    It was Fred who tapped on my door an hour later.
    â€œHattie, Mr. Dickens wants to see you in his study.”
    I had never been in Mr. Dickens’s study before; no one was allowed in unless invited and I assume he did the dusting himself. I was too upset to take in much, but I saw him look up from a table covered with slips of blue paper.
    â€œAh, Harriet. Come here, please. I understand you, ah, you broke a teacup.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œI had not thought of you as clumsy.”
    â€œNo sir, I am not, as a general rule.”
    â€œThen how came the teacup to be broken? Did you really throw it against the wall?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œWould you care to tell me why? I understand you rescued it from Charley. Why rescue it if you were going to destroy it a moment later?”
    I did not wish to answer; it would be Miss Georgy’s word against mine, a servant against a sister-in-law.
    He moved a little china monkey from one end of the table to the other, back and forth. “Look at me, Harriet.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œYou have nothing more to say on this matter? You are not going to try and defend yourself. Whine or cry?”
    I shook my head.
    â€œYou know, I must write to Mr. Brownlow soon, for I gave my word I would keep him informed. What am I to say to him?”
    I could feel the traitor tears beginning, but I dug my nails into my palm and forced them down.
    â€œVery well. You may go.”
    A tear slid down my cheek, but he pretended not to notice.
    â€œGo where, sir?”
    â€œWhy, back to work. What on earth did you think I meant?”
    At this the tears poured down; I could not stop them. I searched blindly for the door, but he got up and put his hand on my shoulder.
    â€œListen to me, Hattie. Never be ashamed of where you came from, never. But mind your temper. If something provokes you — and I suspect Miss Georgy did not mean to provoke you — count to two and twenty before you begin smashing the china. Will you promise me that?”
    I couldn’t speak; I could only nod.
    â€œTwo and twenty, remember?”
    I nodded again.
    â€œSay it.”
    â€œYes, sir. Two and twenty.”
    â€œGood girl.”
    Cook told me later that she had eavesdropped behind the parlour door and that I had caused a great uproar. Miss Georgy wanted me dismissed and “sent back to where she came from,” but Mrs. Dickens defended me and said how good I was with Charley, how much she had come to depend on me. She said Miss Georgy must have touched a nerve when she brought up the subject of the Foundling uniform, that perhaps I had taken the whole thing too much to heart. She and Mrs. Dickens hadquite a set-to about it, but then Mr. Dickens came in and agreed with his wife, that I might have felt mocked or made fun of. He was quite severe with Miss Georgy, much to Cook’s surprise.
    â€œBut you minds how you goes, my girl, you’ve made an henimy of that one. And I don’t think as Master will be so forgiving a second time.”
    That evening I went to apologize to Mrs. Dickens.
    â€œWe will say no more about it, Hattie, but remember that Mr. Dickens likes a smooth-running household. He doesn’t take kindly to disorder or disruption.”
    That night I prayed hard that God would help me to be a better person, and I vowed I would count to four and forty, eight and eighty, even, before I would ever be tempted to do such a thing again. I had had a very narrow escape.
    No one ever mentioned the incident afterwards, but one day, when Miss Georgina was putting on her bonnet in the hall and I had just come in from my half-day off, she stopped