Nina Coombs Pykare Read Free

to the blue. For, though Betty’s affection for her master seemed clear of any taint, Jennifer could not forget the Earl of Linden, and so decided on the drabber gown.
      She would just hang it in the wardrobe, she decided, to allow some of the wrinkles to fall out before dinner. She turned the knob and was immediately attacked by a gibbering creature that scrabbled wildly at her. Fortunately Jennifer was not given to hysterics. After a moment of initial fright, she realized that the terrified creature in her arms was “the terrible monkey.” He was obviously in great fear and Jennifer set herself to calm him, speaking in gentle, soothing tones and patting his trembling back. After some moments the creature ceased trembling and, removing its little arms from around her neck, leaned back to peer at her from bright black eyes.
    “There, there,” said Jennifer. “It was very unkind of whoever shut you up in there. No wonder you were terrified.”
    The little creature surveyed her once more and then buried his face in her shoulder. Jennifer left him there as she went about putting away the rest of her belongings. He was very light, actually, and clung to her quite easily.
    She had finished unpacking and was sitting in the chair near the window, stroking the monkey when the door opened suddenly and the children burst into the room. “Watch out,” called the littlest girl, a hardy, sturdy child of about four. “He bites.”
    “I think not,” replied Jennifer calmly. “He knows that he has found a friend.”
    She looked at the other two. The older girl was well built and sturdy, too, around eight or so. Both girls had brown hair and dark eyes. The boy, however, somewhere between them in age, had his mother’s pale hair. But his eyes, though blue like hers, were bright as the summer sky - and somehow hard.
    “I told you it wouldn’t work,” said Cass-andra to her brother. “Peterkins can’t scare anyone.”
    “He can too,” declared Mortimer, obvious-ly annoyed at this sisterly gibe. “He can bite and scratch something fierce.”
    “I am not going to ask you who was so unkind as to shut poor Peterkins up in a dark closet.” Jennifer raised a warning hand. “I do not want to know. But I think I should tell you that I find such treatment of poor animals very unladylike and ungentlemanly.”
    “We ain’t ladies nor gentlemen,” declared the boy.
    “Indeed, that is quite true,” observed Jennifer serenely. “But my job is to teach you to behave as though you were.” She looked at the girls. “It is quite possible that either or both of you may marry into the aristocracy. And I should like you to be prepared so that you might be comfortable in such a life.” She was very much aware of two pair of dark eyes regarding her curiously.
    “Humph,” snorted Mortimer. “You’re wasting your breath on them two.”
    “Those two,” corrected Jennifer complacently.
    Mortimer bristled. “I’ll talk how I want,” he declared. “You ain’t my Papa.”
    “Indeed, I am not,” agreed Jennifer. “But I am confident that he wishes you to be raised so that you may take a proper place in society should such an opportunity be offered.”
    Mortimer had no reply for this, but turned away to scowl at the wall.
    Cassandra   approached   uneasily   and Jennifer saw that the girl was unsure of herself. “A real lady?” she asked painfully. “Do you think I might be a real lady?”
    “Of course,” replied Jennifer, judging that matter-of-factness was the key here. “People may be born with titles or marry them. In either case ladies must learn to be ladies. No one is born with the proper knowledge.”
    Cassandra’s eyes gleamed.’ “If you teach me that, if that’s why you’ve come, then I won’t play no more tricks.”
    “I’m glad to hear that,” said Jennifer warmly, touching the child’s hand. “But you must realize that I will need to correct you. The way you speak, and walk, and