The Night Gardener Read Free Page B

anything about one of them being a brother. I hate brothers—they’re pests.” She descended the staircase, hopping, feet together, down each step. Molly watched the girl, feeling a sense of relief. Surely a house with a child like this could not be too frightening. The girl took a giant leap from the bottom step and landed in front of Molly with an impressive
thump
. “Does your Kip have a tin cup?” she said, adjusting her glasses, which had slid down her nose.
    “Pardon, miss?”
    “A tin cup. I’ve seen boys like him back in the town where I used to live. They’d sit on the road looking cold and sad and hold out tin cups for people to put money in.”
    The question was innocent, and Molly tried not to let it annoy her. “The only cup he’s got is for drinkin’ water, same as you.”
    The girl nodded, as if filing this information away for future reference. “What is your name?” she demanded.
    Molly bowed. It was clear enough that this little girl was a member of the Windsor family, and it would serve her well to win the child over. “Molly McConnachie. And yours, miss?”
    “Penelope Eleanor Windsor, but you can call me just Penny because that’s what everyone does. Or you can call me ‘miss’ like you already did—that’s all right, too. I’m almost seven. How old are you?”
    Molly demurred; she hadn’t been exactly honest with the broker about her age, and she wasn’t sure she wanted these people to know just how young she was. She put a hand to her chest. “Miss Penny,” she said with a touch of horror, “a lady never tells her age.”
    The girl looked down, embarrassed. “I didn’t know that … I suppose I shouldn’t have told you my age, either. Can we pretend you guessed it all on your own?” She looked at the case at Molly’s feet and then back to Molly. “Is it true you’ve come to live with us?”
    Molly nodded. “It seems that way, miss.”
    “Well, I hope you do,” Penny said. “You have no idea how
tedious
this place is. That’s a word Alistair taught me that means no fun at all.” She plopped down in front of Molly’s trunk and started fiddling with the straps. “In our old home in town, we had all sorts of lovely things to play with—jewelry and silver teapots and china statues.” She glared up at the house. “Here, there’s nothing but cobwebs and spiders and nasty brothers.” She finished with the straps and lifted the lid to expose a mess of old clothes.
    “May I ask what you’re doing, Miss Penny?” Molly said.
    “Opening your valise. I want to see what’s inside.” The girl examined each item briefly before tossing it aside in search of something new. Her interest seemed to grow considerably when she discovered the unmentionables that were packed at the bottom,and she soon had a petticoat around her head like an Indian war-bonnet.
    Molly looked down the hall to see if anyone might be coming. She didn’t exactly relish the idea of her new employer walking into a foyer littered with her underwear, but Penny didn’t strike her as the sort of child who was accustomed to hearing the word “no.” Perhaps it was time for a more artful approach.
    For as long as Molly could remember, she had possessed a gift with words. It was not magic, exactly. Rather, it was a way of talking that made other people believe in magic things, if only for a moment. It was a skill her parents had taught her to use carefully. “You know, Miss Penny,” she said, sitting beside the girl, “where I come from, it’s bad luck to wear someone else’s clothes on your head.”
    “Where is it you come from?” asked Penny, squinting at her through a hole in the toe of some stockings.
    Molly shrugged, affecting a casual tone. “Oh, an enchanted isle.”
    The girl dropped the stockings. “You do not!”
    Molly pretended not to hear her. She hummed to herself, folding a discarded shift and replacing it in the trunk. Penny picked up the stockings and did the same. “Is