please!’
Lotty paused on one foot at the edge of a set of steps. ‘Why shouldn’t Folly explore?’
Breathless, Prue halted and put a hand to her midriff. ‘Precisely because of what has happened. He is too little to be let loose in the wilds of such a big set of gardens.’
The child hunched a pettish shoulder. ‘He has to learn some time.’
Feeling unequal to engage in argument, Prue merely urged her to hurry along to where they had last seen the kitten.
‘Yes, do come on,’ agreed Dodo, ‘for I am beginning to be hungry.’
In a moment or two, the faint sound of a distant mew came to Prue’s ears. She stopped abruptly.
‘Listen!’
There was a silence, and then the plaintive cry came again, causing a stabbing at Prue’s heart.
‘Oh, poor little Folly! Where are you, my precious?’
Out of the corner of her eye, Prue caught a venomous look upon Dodo’s face. But at that moment, there was no room in her either for sympathy or regret. The kitten’s plight took her whole attention.
‘Which way?’ she uttered distractedly. ‘Oh, dear, I wish he might call again.’
A little to her surprise, Lotty started off once more. ‘It was this way!’
With unerring speed, the child led the way down a green alley and a further set of stairs. Sure enough, the sound of Folly’s complaints grew stronger, and puzzlement was added to the anxiety lurching through Prue’sbosom. Was there not a slightly hollow sound to the cry? It echoed, the closer they approached.
In a moment, Prue found herself in the wild garden that she had so much admired, with a well at its centre. For an instant, she stood poised at its entrance, looking about her. Only half aware that the girls were standing either side of her, eyeing her in a searching manner, Prue listened for the kitten’s mew. She called out to him.
‘ Folly ! Folly, where are you?’
As if he heard her, the kitten’s cries started up again. The echo was evident. Memory stirred, and Prue’s eyes turned towards the well. Dread hammered in her chest, and her feet moved without volition. Reaching the well, she gripped the surrounding wall with both hands and peered over the edge.
It took a moment or two for her eyes to adjust to the darkness below, and the continuing sounds of Folly’s distress caught at her heartstrings. At last she discerned within the murk the gleam of his little green eyes at some distance down the well.
‘Folly! Oh, poor mite!’
She shifted back, looking wildly round for a means by which she might succour the kitten. How was she to do? A long stick? Or could they find a ladder? She must think of something, and fast! Before the poor thing should drown. The wonder was that he was still alive!
Only then was it borne in upon Prue that a heavy chain hung down the centre of the well, suspended from a beam in the wooden cover above it. She stared at it, abruptly hit by confusion.
‘If there is a chain, then where is the bucket?’ she wondered aloud.
Leaning forward again, she stared down the well-hole. Grasping the chain with one hand, she moved it slightly. A protest erupted from the kitten below, and Prue saw movement. Incredibly, Folly had fallen into the bucket!
Wasting no time in speculation at the marvel, she searched for the means by which the bucket was to be lifted and found a handle. With the intention of giving an instant instruction, she glanced about for the twins.
Unaccountably, they had retired to the entrance to the gardens, where they stood watching her.
‘Help me, one of you!’
Neither moved. They seemed to be rooted to the spot, their features inscrutable. Uttering an impatient exclamation, Prue shifted quickly around the well and grasped the handle. It turned easily enough. Unaware that she held her breath, Prue kept her eyes glued upon the opening to the well, watching for the bucket’s arrival.
Folly’s unabated complaints grew louder as he neared the surface, and Prue’s heart twisted. It felt an age that
Lotty paused on one foot at the edge of a set of steps. ‘Why shouldn’t Folly explore?’
Breathless, Prue halted and put a hand to her midriff. ‘Precisely because of what has happened. He is too little to be let loose in the wilds of such a big set of gardens.’
The child hunched a pettish shoulder. ‘He has to learn some time.’
Feeling unequal to engage in argument, Prue merely urged her to hurry along to where they had last seen the kitten.
‘Yes, do come on,’ agreed Dodo, ‘for I am beginning to be hungry.’
In a moment or two, the faint sound of a distant mew came to Prue’s ears. She stopped abruptly.
‘Listen!’
There was a silence, and then the plaintive cry came again, causing a stabbing at Prue’s heart.
‘Oh, poor little Folly! Where are you, my precious?’
Out of the corner of her eye, Prue caught a venomous look upon Dodo’s face. But at that moment, there was no room in her either for sympathy or regret. The kitten’s plight took her whole attention.
‘Which way?’ she uttered distractedly. ‘Oh, dear, I wish he might call again.’
A little to her surprise, Lotty started off once more. ‘It was this way!’
With unerring speed, the child led the way down a green alley and a further set of stairs. Sure enough, the sound of Folly’s complaints grew stronger, and puzzlement was added to the anxiety lurching through Prue’sbosom. Was there not a slightly hollow sound to the cry? It echoed, the closer they approached.
In a moment, Prue found herself in the wild garden that she had so much admired, with a well at its centre. For an instant, she stood poised at its entrance, looking about her. Only half aware that the girls were standing either side of her, eyeing her in a searching manner, Prue listened for the kitten’s mew. She called out to him.
‘ Folly ! Folly, where are you?’
As if he heard her, the kitten’s cries started up again. The echo was evident. Memory stirred, and Prue’s eyes turned towards the well. Dread hammered in her chest, and her feet moved without volition. Reaching the well, she gripped the surrounding wall with both hands and peered over the edge.
It took a moment or two for her eyes to adjust to the darkness below, and the continuing sounds of Folly’s distress caught at her heartstrings. At last she discerned within the murk the gleam of his little green eyes at some distance down the well.
‘Folly! Oh, poor mite!’
She shifted back, looking wildly round for a means by which she might succour the kitten. How was she to do? A long stick? Or could they find a ladder? She must think of something, and fast! Before the poor thing should drown. The wonder was that he was still alive!
Only then was it borne in upon Prue that a heavy chain hung down the centre of the well, suspended from a beam in the wooden cover above it. She stared at it, abruptly hit by confusion.
‘If there is a chain, then where is the bucket?’ she wondered aloud.
Leaning forward again, she stared down the well-hole. Grasping the chain with one hand, she moved it slightly. A protest erupted from the kitten below, and Prue saw movement. Incredibly, Folly had fallen into the bucket!
Wasting no time in speculation at the marvel, she searched for the means by which the bucket was to be lifted and found a handle. With the intention of giving an instant instruction, she glanced about for the twins.
Unaccountably, they had retired to the entrance to the gardens, where they stood watching her.
‘Help me, one of you!’
Neither moved. They seemed to be rooted to the spot, their features inscrutable. Uttering an impatient exclamation, Prue shifted quickly around the well and grasped the handle. It turned easily enough. Unaware that she held her breath, Prue kept her eyes glued upon the opening to the well, watching for the bucket’s arrival.
Folly’s unabated complaints grew louder as he neared the surface, and Prue’s heart twisted. It felt an age that
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