Folly by Marthe Jocelyn Page A
Authors: Marthe Jocelyn
Tags: United States, General, Historical, People & Places, History, Family, Juvenile Fiction, Children: Young Adult (Gr. 10-12), Europe, Great Britain, 19th century, London (England), Diseases, Family - General, Health & Daily Living, Household employees, Historical - United States - 19th Century, People & Places - Europe, Business; Careers; Occupations, Foundlings
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or go back to bed."
Nods from both plus a salute from Walter.
The kitchens were locked. Of course they would be, in the middle of the night.
"All this way for nothing," Frederick complained. "You think you're so clever."
James would prove how clever.
"We aren't here for the kitchen," he said. "That's next time. Follow me."
The masters had a separate dining room, not so fancy as the one where the governors gathered, and not so plain as the boys' refectory. There must be something in there worth having? James crept along next to the wall,
130
Frederick and Walter bumbling behind him. His team needed training if they were to match the Pie Peter raiders.
Ahh , the door handle clicked neatly open and his chilled feet stepped onto a carpet.
"Cor," said Frederick.
"Shhh."
Moonlight shone faintly through the window, striping the table in the middle of the room and illuminating a silver tray on a lace cloth. There sat a sugar bowl, a pitcher for cream, and--oh glory!--a jam pot with a spoon poking up through the hole in its lid.
James reached across the table to pull the cloth toward them. Frederick lunged for the sugar bowl, but James smacked his arm away.
"Ow!"
"We're not pirates," said James. "We'll take turns."
"Who says?"
"I say." James had a hand on each precious vessel, one covering the sugar, the other holding the jam pot. "You obey the rules, Frederick, or you won't come next time."
"Who says?"
"I say." James handed the bowl to Walter, who pinched up sugar between thumb and fingers and drizzled it onto his tongue with a sigh of rapture. James flipped off the jam pot lid to find marmalade! He scooped a spoonful into his mouth. Ah! The slightly bitter burst of orange seemed as bright as sunshine for the moment that it lasted. Walter passed the sugar bowl to Frederick. James handed the
131
jam pot and spoon to Walter. On the next trade, James could hardly taste the sprinkle of sugar over the lively bitter sweetness of the marmalade. Frederick must have found the same thing because at his turn he tipped the bowl and poured a stream of sugar into his open mouth.
"Hey!" cried Walter.
"Pig!" cursed James, joggling Frederick's arm. Sugar sprayed across the table and floor, but Frederick wouldn't let go of the bowl.
"What did you go and do that for?" Frederick glared at them. "You spilled it, stupid!"
Walter was already pressing moist palms against the snowfall on the tabletop, licking them off and pressing again, picking up every last speck.
"You forfeit marmalade," said James. "For being a pig with the sugar."
"Nasty stuff, anyway." Frederick retreated to a corner and quietly finished off the whole bowl of sugar by himself. James and Walter passed the spoon back and forth until the jam pot was empty.
Sneaking back up, Walter murmured, "This was the best night of my life, ever."
"Since we came here," said James.
He spent all of prayers next morning thinking about how that marmalade had tasted on his tongue, from the first lick to the very last sliver of orange nibbled off his lips. It was hard to think of Jesus Christ under such circumstances, He who likely never had jam in all His life.
132
MARY 1877 Telling About Christmas
I woke up blinking dizzy, with some quick and wily rodent darting about my belly. It brought my innards rushing to my mouth as I sat up. Ohh , I didn't like that, not one bit. No time to pull on shoes, my bare feet stumbled me down four flights, lickety-split, across the yard to the servants' privy.
Eliza were waiting when I came back up, eyeing me like a market fish she weren't likely to put in her basket.
"What got you moving so fast this morning?"
"Not well," I mumbled, sloshing water from the jug over my wrists. But then, with the knot of doom tightening itself around my throat, I produced a sunny smile.
"All better now!"
And weren't I then as strong and fast as two? The way I collected the boots for polishing, and hustled room to
133
room, sweeping the grates, carting
Nods from both plus a salute from Walter.
The kitchens were locked. Of course they would be, in the middle of the night.
"All this way for nothing," Frederick complained. "You think you're so clever."
James would prove how clever.
"We aren't here for the kitchen," he said. "That's next time. Follow me."
The masters had a separate dining room, not so fancy as the one where the governors gathered, and not so plain as the boys' refectory. There must be something in there worth having? James crept along next to the wall,
130
Frederick and Walter bumbling behind him. His team needed training if they were to match the Pie Peter raiders.
Ahh , the door handle clicked neatly open and his chilled feet stepped onto a carpet.
"Cor," said Frederick.
"Shhh."
Moonlight shone faintly through the window, striping the table in the middle of the room and illuminating a silver tray on a lace cloth. There sat a sugar bowl, a pitcher for cream, and--oh glory!--a jam pot with a spoon poking up through the hole in its lid.
James reached across the table to pull the cloth toward them. Frederick lunged for the sugar bowl, but James smacked his arm away.
"Ow!"
"We're not pirates," said James. "We'll take turns."
"Who says?"
"I say." James had a hand on each precious vessel, one covering the sugar, the other holding the jam pot. "You obey the rules, Frederick, or you won't come next time."
"Who says?"
"I say." James handed the bowl to Walter, who pinched up sugar between thumb and fingers and drizzled it onto his tongue with a sigh of rapture. James flipped off the jam pot lid to find marmalade! He scooped a spoonful into his mouth. Ah! The slightly bitter burst of orange seemed as bright as sunshine for the moment that it lasted. Walter passed the sugar bowl to Frederick. James handed the
131
jam pot and spoon to Walter. On the next trade, James could hardly taste the sprinkle of sugar over the lively bitter sweetness of the marmalade. Frederick must have found the same thing because at his turn he tipped the bowl and poured a stream of sugar into his open mouth.
"Hey!" cried Walter.
"Pig!" cursed James, joggling Frederick's arm. Sugar sprayed across the table and floor, but Frederick wouldn't let go of the bowl.
"What did you go and do that for?" Frederick glared at them. "You spilled it, stupid!"
Walter was already pressing moist palms against the snowfall on the tabletop, licking them off and pressing again, picking up every last speck.
"You forfeit marmalade," said James. "For being a pig with the sugar."
"Nasty stuff, anyway." Frederick retreated to a corner and quietly finished off the whole bowl of sugar by himself. James and Walter passed the spoon back and forth until the jam pot was empty.
Sneaking back up, Walter murmured, "This was the best night of my life, ever."
"Since we came here," said James.
He spent all of prayers next morning thinking about how that marmalade had tasted on his tongue, from the first lick to the very last sliver of orange nibbled off his lips. It was hard to think of Jesus Christ under such circumstances, He who likely never had jam in all His life.
132
MARY 1877 Telling About Christmas
I woke up blinking dizzy, with some quick and wily rodent darting about my belly. It brought my innards rushing to my mouth as I sat up. Ohh , I didn't like that, not one bit. No time to pull on shoes, my bare feet stumbled me down four flights, lickety-split, across the yard to the servants' privy.
Eliza were waiting when I came back up, eyeing me like a market fish she weren't likely to put in her basket.
"What got you moving so fast this morning?"
"Not well," I mumbled, sloshing water from the jug over my wrists. But then, with the knot of doom tightening itself around my throat, I produced a sunny smile.
"All better now!"
And weren't I then as strong and fast as two? The way I collected the boots for polishing, and hustled room to
133
room, sweeping the grates, carting
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