big house. She was bustling past with parcels under her arm and bread in the basket. That bit of food I’d had gave me courage so, swallowing fast, I ran over to her. “Hello,” I blurted out. “Thought I saw you come from the big house over the field.” The woman frowned at me and puckered her lips. She looked ready to stride off, so quickly I said, “And I wondered if you need a scullery maid? I’m a good worker, and honest.” She looked me up and down. “I can wash dishes and pots, and dry them too. I’m very careful,” I went on, smiling, andmaking myself as tall as I could.
“Might do,” she said, or snapped more like, but that didn’t put me off. I kept smiling, kept thinking of being with Saul and finding the deeds.
“I can also scrub and sweep, cook and launder,” I said, “I’m not afraid of hard work. Not one bit.”
She frowned, stared at me again, then nodded. “Call round at the house tomorrow. Say Mrs Buchan sent for you.” With that she marched off and vanished into the crowd. An even bigger smile spread over my face. If I wasn’t mistaken, I, thirteen-year-old Agnes Brown, had a job!
20
Agnes
I sunk my teeth into another bun. I still had six left, and planned on saving some till tomorrow and sharing them with Saul and the other poor servants.
Feeling pretty chuffed, I ambled towards the river. I looked to see if the girl called Peggy Bell was chucking stones into the river. She was and waved, but when she beckoned for me to come over I shook my head. I had things to do. Like finding a great-great-great-great aunt, for instance.
Peggy Bell had said Jean lived in Walkershaugh. That’s a road, and it was easy enough to find, but I had no idea what number house to knock at. I wandered along past the stone cottages, gazing at the pretty little violets and pansies in the gardens. A woman in a flowery-patterned pinny was outside one house, polishing her brass doorbell.
“Lovely morning,” I piped up.
The woman swung round and peered at me. “For now,” she said, curtly, and breathed on the brass.
“Can you tell me where, um, Jean lives?” I blurted out. “Please?”
The woman eyed me again. “What do you want with Jean? If that’s a parcel for her you can leave it here.”
I didn’t know what to say. I shook my head and held on tightly to the brown paper bag of rolls. “No. It’s not, um, aparcel. I just wanted… to bring her greetings from a distant relative.”
The woman stopped polishing. “Oh, aye, and where would that be from, then?”
I flung an arm vaguely to the north. “Edinburgh,” I said.
“Oh, Edinburgh? I didn’t know the auld wifie had kin in Edinburgh. Anyway, Jean’s no in.” I saw the woman nod to the small stone cottage opposite. “I’ll tell her yea came looking fir her. What’s yer name?”
“Mind your own business. Jeannie’s here.” I swung round and stared at a woman who was standing behind me on the street. I hadn’t heard her approach. She had thick grey hair that tumbled, kind of wild looking, all the way past her shoulders, and she wore a long green dress. She looked like she had stepped out of the forest. I could see bits of moss sticking to her dress and her hair. She had a twinkle in her eye and she smiled at me. It was the same woman I had seen when I had been singing on the street. “It’s alright Mrs Gilchrist,” she called out, “I’m home,” then she linked her arm in mine and, like a long-lost chum, led me over the road and into her little garden. “Nosy old bat,” she said, taking me into the house. “Everybody else’s business is always more interesting than her own. Here, have a seat on that old chair, lassie, and tell me what I can do for you.”
It felt cosy inside. The place smelt of geraniums, and all kinds of other flowers. Jean made herself comfy in an old chair and now she was gazing at me, smiling, and waiting for my story. Somehow, looking at my great-great-great-great aunt and her being so
“Might do,” she said, or snapped more like, but that didn’t put me off. I kept smiling, kept thinking of being with Saul and finding the deeds.
“I can also scrub and sweep, cook and launder,” I said, “I’m not afraid of hard work. Not one bit.”
She frowned, stared at me again, then nodded. “Call round at the house tomorrow. Say Mrs Buchan sent for you.” With that she marched off and vanished into the crowd. An even bigger smile spread over my face. If I wasn’t mistaken, I, thirteen-year-old Agnes Brown, had a job!
20
Agnes
I sunk my teeth into another bun. I still had six left, and planned on saving some till tomorrow and sharing them with Saul and the other poor servants.
Feeling pretty chuffed, I ambled towards the river. I looked to see if the girl called Peggy Bell was chucking stones into the river. She was and waved, but when she beckoned for me to come over I shook my head. I had things to do. Like finding a great-great-great-great aunt, for instance.
Peggy Bell had said Jean lived in Walkershaugh. That’s a road, and it was easy enough to find, but I had no idea what number house to knock at. I wandered along past the stone cottages, gazing at the pretty little violets and pansies in the gardens. A woman in a flowery-patterned pinny was outside one house, polishing her brass doorbell.
“Lovely morning,” I piped up.
The woman swung round and peered at me. “For now,” she said, curtly, and breathed on the brass.
“Can you tell me where, um, Jean lives?” I blurted out. “Please?”
The woman eyed me again. “What do you want with Jean? If that’s a parcel for her you can leave it here.”
I didn’t know what to say. I shook my head and held on tightly to the brown paper bag of rolls. “No. It’s not, um, aparcel. I just wanted… to bring her greetings from a distant relative.”
The woman stopped polishing. “Oh, aye, and where would that be from, then?”
I flung an arm vaguely to the north. “Edinburgh,” I said.
“Oh, Edinburgh? I didn’t know the auld wifie had kin in Edinburgh. Anyway, Jean’s no in.” I saw the woman nod to the small stone cottage opposite. “I’ll tell her yea came looking fir her. What’s yer name?”
“Mind your own business. Jeannie’s here.” I swung round and stared at a woman who was standing behind me on the street. I hadn’t heard her approach. She had thick grey hair that tumbled, kind of wild looking, all the way past her shoulders, and she wore a long green dress. She looked like she had stepped out of the forest. I could see bits of moss sticking to her dress and her hair. She had a twinkle in her eye and she smiled at me. It was the same woman I had seen when I had been singing on the street. “It’s alright Mrs Gilchrist,” she called out, “I’m home,” then she linked her arm in mine and, like a long-lost chum, led me over the road and into her little garden. “Nosy old bat,” she said, taking me into the house. “Everybody else’s business is always more interesting than her own. Here, have a seat on that old chair, lassie, and tell me what I can do for you.”
It felt cosy inside. The place smelt of geraniums, and all kinds of other flowers. Jean made herself comfy in an old chair and now she was gazing at me, smiling, and waiting for my story. Somehow, looking at my great-great-great-great aunt and her being so
Similar Books
