Nora-she's a bit quiet. Apparently, at the big house, in Kent, there's more staff and a housekeeper, Mrs. Johnson. There's some scullery maids-Dossie, Emily, and Sadie-who help Mrs. Crawford in the kitchen, and of course there's Enid"
"What's she like, then?"
"She's got hair the color of a blazing fire, Dad. Really red, it is. And when she brushes it out at night, it goes right up like this"
Maisie held out her hands to indicate a distance away from the sides of her head, which made Frankie laugh. Something he couldn't understand-how she could look like a child one minute, and like a mature woman the next.
"She nice to you, love?"
"She's all right, Dad. Blows hot and cold, though. One minute she seems full of the joys of spring, and the next, well, I just keep out of her way."
"I might've guessed. Your carrottops are always the same. Remember, love, the more you're yourself, the more it's like you've just put iron shoes on yer feet-they'll 'old you to the ground when that 'ot and cold air comes rushing from 'er direction. That's the key with that sort."
Maisie nodded, as if to take in this important advice, and continued with her story. "The other thing about Enid is that I think she's sweet on Master James"
Frankie laughed again. "Oh! I see it didn't take you long to get wind of the goings-on! What's 'e like, then, this James? Bit old to be called `Master,' in' 'e?"
"Well, apparently, so I heard Cook saying, His Lordship gave instructions that Master James should be called Master until he proved his worth. Or something like that. He comes into the kitchen sometimes, you know, of an evening, after dinner. I've watched him. He comes in to see Cook, and as he walks by Enid, he always winks at her. She goes all red in the face and looks the other way, but I know she likes him. And Cook pretends to tell him off for coming into her kitchen, as if he was still a little boy, but then she brings out a big plate of ginger biscuits-which he gets stuck into while he's standing there in the kitchen! Drives Mr. Carter mad, it does."
"I should think it does! Likes order, does Mr. Carter. Now then, tell me about the 'ouse itself."
And Maisie smiled, glad to be in the easy company of her father, a man who was given to remark that a person could take him as they found him, there were no airs around Frankie Dobbs. And Frankie was more at peace now Life itself was easier-easier now that the man knew his daughter to be in good hands. Easier now that the bills were being paid.Yes, thought Frankie Dobbs as he walked with his daughter in the park, it was all getting easier.
@wlisie was fascinated by the library. It was well used, for both Lord and Lady Compton enjoyed literature, politics, and keeping up with the fancies of intellectual London. But when Maisie opened the door and brought in the coal scuttle at five in the morning, it was a quiet room. The lush velvet curtains kept drafts at bay and allowed warmth to seep into every corner after Maisie had lit the fire ready for whoever would use the room that morning.
Each day she lingered just a little longer before kneeling down to the fireplace, before her hands were blackened by the lighting of fires. Each day she learned a little more about the depth and breadth of knowledge housed in the Comptons' library, and each day her hunger grew Gradually she became braver, first tentatively touching the leather binding as she read the title on the spine of a book, then taking the text from its place on the shelf and opening the fine onionskin pages at the front of the book.
The library seized Maisie's imagination, rendering the small public library with which she was familiar a very poor runner-up in her estimation. Of all the rooms in the house, she loved this the most. One morning, as she replaced a book to attend to the fireplace, a thought occurred to Maisie.
After her mother's death, she had been used to rising at three in the morning to make her father his tea. It had never hurt
"What's she like, then?"
"She's got hair the color of a blazing fire, Dad. Really red, it is. And when she brushes it out at night, it goes right up like this"
Maisie held out her hands to indicate a distance away from the sides of her head, which made Frankie laugh. Something he couldn't understand-how she could look like a child one minute, and like a mature woman the next.
"She nice to you, love?"
"She's all right, Dad. Blows hot and cold, though. One minute she seems full of the joys of spring, and the next, well, I just keep out of her way."
"I might've guessed. Your carrottops are always the same. Remember, love, the more you're yourself, the more it's like you've just put iron shoes on yer feet-they'll 'old you to the ground when that 'ot and cold air comes rushing from 'er direction. That's the key with that sort."
Maisie nodded, as if to take in this important advice, and continued with her story. "The other thing about Enid is that I think she's sweet on Master James"
Frankie laughed again. "Oh! I see it didn't take you long to get wind of the goings-on! What's 'e like, then, this James? Bit old to be called `Master,' in' 'e?"
"Well, apparently, so I heard Cook saying, His Lordship gave instructions that Master James should be called Master until he proved his worth. Or something like that. He comes into the kitchen sometimes, you know, of an evening, after dinner. I've watched him. He comes in to see Cook, and as he walks by Enid, he always winks at her. She goes all red in the face and looks the other way, but I know she likes him. And Cook pretends to tell him off for coming into her kitchen, as if he was still a little boy, but then she brings out a big plate of ginger biscuits-which he gets stuck into while he's standing there in the kitchen! Drives Mr. Carter mad, it does."
"I should think it does! Likes order, does Mr. Carter. Now then, tell me about the 'ouse itself."
And Maisie smiled, glad to be in the easy company of her father, a man who was given to remark that a person could take him as they found him, there were no airs around Frankie Dobbs. And Frankie was more at peace now Life itself was easier-easier now that the man knew his daughter to be in good hands. Easier now that the bills were being paid.Yes, thought Frankie Dobbs as he walked with his daughter in the park, it was all getting easier.
@wlisie was fascinated by the library. It was well used, for both Lord and Lady Compton enjoyed literature, politics, and keeping up with the fancies of intellectual London. But when Maisie opened the door and brought in the coal scuttle at five in the morning, it was a quiet room. The lush velvet curtains kept drafts at bay and allowed warmth to seep into every corner after Maisie had lit the fire ready for whoever would use the room that morning.
Each day she lingered just a little longer before kneeling down to the fireplace, before her hands were blackened by the lighting of fires. Each day she learned a little more about the depth and breadth of knowledge housed in the Comptons' library, and each day her hunger grew Gradually she became braver, first tentatively touching the leather binding as she read the title on the spine of a book, then taking the text from its place on the shelf and opening the fine onionskin pages at the front of the book.
The library seized Maisie's imagination, rendering the small public library with which she was familiar a very poor runner-up in her estimation. Of all the rooms in the house, she loved this the most. One morning, as she replaced a book to attend to the fireplace, a thought occurred to Maisie.
After her mother's death, she had been used to rising at three in the morning to make her father his tea. It had never hurt
Similar Books
