Black Hearts in Battersea by Joan Aiken

on account of the gentleman's being a—a rather a
shabby
young gentleman—and the egg's being so—so round, you know—wouldn't for the world give any offense—"
    "Well, you have given it, blockhead, and it makes it no better to cast aspersions on the young gentleman's clothes. I've a good mind to dismiss you. Don't let such a thing occur again or you'll be sent back to Chippings! Good night, then, my dear boy, I shall look forward with impatience to our next meeting. Why, there
is
my watch after all," he continued, catching sight of it on the table, "I must have laid it there while showing you the Rivière. And, dear me, how late it is!"
    Jabwing ushered Simon out and down the great stairway without a word, but his face spoke volumes and if looks could have done it there would have been a banana skin waiting to trip Simon on every step. As he threw open the hall doors he hissed one word, "Interloper!" into Simon's ear, and then slammed the door behind him with an insulting crash.
    Simon walked down the long drive in a very thoughtful frame of mind. He half wished that he had not suggested coming to clean the picture, but he had taken a liking to the Duke, who seemed a kind old fellow and rather lonely. It was plain, though, that it would be necessary to keep a lookout against such hostile acts as that of Jabwing, who
had clearly hoped to get Simon turned out and discredited as a common thief. It was almost, Simon thought, remembering the malevolent gatekeeper and the sour looks of Midwink the valet, as if someone had an interest in keeping him out of Battersea Castle. But why should that be? Puzzling over this new problem he went home to bed.

7
    One morning, several weeks later, Dido waylaid Simon. She had recovered from her fever, but still looked pale, and was shaken from time to time by a dry cough.

    "You never plays with me nowadays," she complained. There was a forlorn droop to her mouth, and Simon took pity on her.
    "I'll tell you what, brat, I shall be free on Sunday afternoon, for Mr. Cobb's yard is closed then and I'll have finished the other job I'm working on"—he meant the cleaning of the Rivière, which was nearing completion—"so I'll take you on an outing. What shall it be? A trip down the river on a pleasure boat? Or shall we go into the country—take our dinners and hunt for highwaymen in Blackheath Woods?"
    Dido was enchanted at this offer. Her eyes sparkled and she began to jump up and down on the dirty front steps, hanging on to Simon's arm in a very exhausting manner, until a fit of coughing obliged her to desist.
    "Clapham Fair! Can we go to Clapham Fair? Pa said he wouldn't take me, he allus has forty winks on Sunday afternoons, and Ma goes to the Lady Triangulists' Social, and Penny-lope's gone off ... They say there's a talking pig that'll answer any question you ask! And there's whirligigs and flying boats and giddy-go-rounds and Lambeth cakes and treacle sticks!"

    "All right, all right, don't deafen me, brat! You shall go to the fair. Only for my sake, will you put on a clean pinafore when we go, and wash your face?"
    "Oh, stuff!" Dido put out her tongue at him between the railings. Simon waved a hand to her and went whistling away down the street.
    The Duke of Battersea was not at home that evening, having been inveigled, for once, into attending a performance at the opera with his lady. Sophie, who sometimes slipped into the library for a chat when Simon was there, had left a note tucked among his cleaning tools, informing him that she also would be out, escorting her mistress. (For fear of being bored, the Duchess would go nowhere without a supply of amusements, reading matter, and embroidery things, which it was Sophie's duty to carry.) The party would not be home until a late hour.
    Simon was disappointed not to see Sophie, but the absence of his Grace's somewhat fidgety companionship made it easier to get on with the job, and he applied himself with a will, whistling gently between