I gingerlyreached for the mug, secured its handle, and shared its contents with my young charge.
“Master Jack would be the old man’s son, then,” I guessed.
“I’ll say not!” Mrs. Sexton pursed her lips in a grimace. “A right fine time those two will have when they’re together at last.”
“Then I can’t make it out at all, at all,” I told her, spreading my hands in an appeal for reason. “How is it Master Jack’s master now if he wasn’t the old master’s son?”
Mrs. Sexton’s unexpected chattiness dried up. She closed her teeth around her pipe with an audible snap. For several minutes, she stared into the fire, puffing, until curls of smoke surrounded her. Then, just when we thought to hear no more from her, she spoke.
“In most houses, family’s related by birth. Seldom House family’s related by death.” And that was all she would say.
My young charge seemed to take meaning away from the riddle that changed his conduct for the worse. When Mr. Ketch came into the kitchen not long thereafter, Himself was decidedly cool. He went on directing the battle his twigs were waging toclaim the coal scuttle for their lord and ignored Mr. Ketch’s jokes and blandishments. As Mrs. Sexton didn’t bother to speak, either, I felt the obligation descend upon me.
“Are you ill, sir?” I inquired. The clear response was
yes
. Jack Ketch’s countenance was sickly yellow, almost a match for his beard.
“Not at all, I’m fit for a wager,” he answered with an attempt at a grin. “So, heathen git! What’s the game then?”
Himself went on playing.
“He’s not well either, sir,” I interjected when I saw the man’s hurt expression. “A ghost in this house threatens him.”
I expected raised eyebrows or a hearty laugh, but Mr. Ketch shivered and quickly scanned the room, then turned up his collar and drew his coat close as though he stood outside in the cold drizzle. “You’d think they’d leave children in peace,” he sighed.
“The boy is in peril,” I made bold to add. “It’s no surprise he’s surrounded by evil spirits when he’s still in thrall to the devil. We owe it to him to see him christened and set on the right path.”
“Oh, ah!” exclaimed Mr. Ketch, and now he seemed amused. “You’re an old-fashioned little body, aren’t you? But we’ve no parson here, so yourrighteous plan will take some doing.” He gave a start, glanced behind himself at nothing, and made for the door.
“You might do it yourself, sir,” I pointed out, but he was past hearing.
For the next hour, not a single twig was whipped or burnt at the stake, and by this I could see that my charge’s mind was not on his play. But we scarcely could have dreamt what that barbaric little thing was up to. When Mrs. Sexton reached down the earthenware plates for our tea, he surprised us both.
“I’m master, and old Jack’s master,” he said. “That’s a joke, though, isn’t it? It’s like the Lord Pirate Rogue, there can’t be more than one.”
“I told you that days ago,” I said primly.
“I thought so. I’ll have to kill him,” he said, quite calm. “He’s bigger than I am. There’ll be lots of blood.”
CHAPTER SIX
I have never been squeamish, but I thought I might faint, hearing a small child speak so about murder.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” I snapped. “That wild talk is fine for your wax doll, but this is a civilized land. You’ll end up on the gallows if you go on raving like that. Gentlemen don’t kill one another. Do they, Mrs. Sexton?”
But that grim lady gave a puff on her pipe and turned away to fetch our meal.
“How else do they get land, then?” Himself asked, as cool as you please.
“They wait, and they inherit it. That’s what Mr. Ketch did. After all he’s done for you, to say such a thing! I wonder he doesn’t send you about your business.”
He seemed half inclined to believe me, though a trifle disappointed. I honestly think the little
“Master Jack would be the old man’s son, then,” I guessed.
“I’ll say not!” Mrs. Sexton pursed her lips in a grimace. “A right fine time those two will have when they’re together at last.”
“Then I can’t make it out at all, at all,” I told her, spreading my hands in an appeal for reason. “How is it Master Jack’s master now if he wasn’t the old master’s son?”
Mrs. Sexton’s unexpected chattiness dried up. She closed her teeth around her pipe with an audible snap. For several minutes, she stared into the fire, puffing, until curls of smoke surrounded her. Then, just when we thought to hear no more from her, she spoke.
“In most houses, family’s related by birth. Seldom House family’s related by death.” And that was all she would say.
My young charge seemed to take meaning away from the riddle that changed his conduct for the worse. When Mr. Ketch came into the kitchen not long thereafter, Himself was decidedly cool. He went on directing the battle his twigs were waging toclaim the coal scuttle for their lord and ignored Mr. Ketch’s jokes and blandishments. As Mrs. Sexton didn’t bother to speak, either, I felt the obligation descend upon me.
“Are you ill, sir?” I inquired. The clear response was
yes
. Jack Ketch’s countenance was sickly yellow, almost a match for his beard.
“Not at all, I’m fit for a wager,” he answered with an attempt at a grin. “So, heathen git! What’s the game then?”
Himself went on playing.
“He’s not well either, sir,” I interjected when I saw the man’s hurt expression. “A ghost in this house threatens him.”
I expected raised eyebrows or a hearty laugh, but Mr. Ketch shivered and quickly scanned the room, then turned up his collar and drew his coat close as though he stood outside in the cold drizzle. “You’d think they’d leave children in peace,” he sighed.
“The boy is in peril,” I made bold to add. “It’s no surprise he’s surrounded by evil spirits when he’s still in thrall to the devil. We owe it to him to see him christened and set on the right path.”
“Oh, ah!” exclaimed Mr. Ketch, and now he seemed amused. “You’re an old-fashioned little body, aren’t you? But we’ve no parson here, so yourrighteous plan will take some doing.” He gave a start, glanced behind himself at nothing, and made for the door.
“You might do it yourself, sir,” I pointed out, but he was past hearing.
For the next hour, not a single twig was whipped or burnt at the stake, and by this I could see that my charge’s mind was not on his play. But we scarcely could have dreamt what that barbaric little thing was up to. When Mrs. Sexton reached down the earthenware plates for our tea, he surprised us both.
“I’m master, and old Jack’s master,” he said. “That’s a joke, though, isn’t it? It’s like the Lord Pirate Rogue, there can’t be more than one.”
“I told you that days ago,” I said primly.
“I thought so. I’ll have to kill him,” he said, quite calm. “He’s bigger than I am. There’ll be lots of blood.”
CHAPTER SIX
I have never been squeamish, but I thought I might faint, hearing a small child speak so about murder.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” I snapped. “That wild talk is fine for your wax doll, but this is a civilized land. You’ll end up on the gallows if you go on raving like that. Gentlemen don’t kill one another. Do they, Mrs. Sexton?”
But that grim lady gave a puff on her pipe and turned away to fetch our meal.
“How else do they get land, then?” Himself asked, as cool as you please.
“They wait, and they inherit it. That’s what Mr. Ketch did. After all he’s done for you, to say such a thing! I wonder he doesn’t send you about your business.”
He seemed half inclined to believe me, though a trifle disappointed. I honestly think the little
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