Robbie
- Ingenious Pilot -
Posts: 211
|
Post by Robbie on Sept 22, 2008 17:13:53 GMT -5
"I haven't! I haven't!" *he said.*
|
|
|
Post by Alice Cullen on Sept 22, 2008 17:15:25 GMT -5
"Which doesn't explain why he found the remains of two birds near your campsite." *She said, not unkindly. He was only about her twins' age; and being a pushover she couldn't possibly have considered actually getting him fined.*
|
|
Robbie
- Ingenious Pilot -
Posts: 211
|
Post by Robbie on Sept 22, 2008 17:18:25 GMT -5
"'ow should I know 'ow those got there? P'raps ee put 'em there 'isself."
|
|
|
Post by Alice Cullen on Sept 22, 2008 17:19:49 GMT -5
*She sighed again, leaning a little closer to his level.*
"What's your name?"
|
|
Robbie
- Ingenious Pilot -
Posts: 211
|
Post by Robbie on Sept 22, 2008 17:26:28 GMT -5
"...Will. William," *he said.*
|
|
|
Post by Alice Cullen on Sept 22, 2008 17:28:27 GMT -5
"I'm not going to fine you, I'd just like to know your name." *She said softly, as it was highly unlikely he was actually telling the truth.*
|
|
Robbie
- Ingenious Pilot -
Posts: 211
|
Post by Robbie on Sept 22, 2008 17:32:00 GMT -5
"I've no' a farthin' t'be fined fer, missus..."
*Something in her gaze made him look at the floor, his bright blue eyes fastened on his scruffy boots, one with a hole in the toe.*
"Robert James Grant, missus."
|
|
|
Post by Alice Cullen on Sept 22, 2008 17:33:48 GMT -5
"Well, Robert James Grant, it so happens that we've recently been forced to give up our stable-boy... would you be interested in some honest employment?"
|
|
Robbie
- Ingenious Pilot -
Posts: 211
|
Post by Robbie on Sept 22, 2008 17:39:21 GMT -5
*His jaw dropped a little, making him look not unlike some kind of poor fish.*
"D--d'ye mean it, missus?"
|
|
|
Post by Alice Cullen on Sept 22, 2008 17:41:44 GMT -5
"I don't see why I'd be kidding. We're in dire need of someone to clean tack and muck stalls. I'm Madame Pontmercy, by the way."
|
|
Robbie
- Ingenious Pilot -
Posts: 211
|
Post by Robbie on Sept 22, 2008 17:46:23 GMT -5
*Robbie bowed awkwardly at the introduction, but then hestitated to show further effusions of hope.*
"...er...why me, missus?"
|
|
|
Post by Alice Cullen on Sept 22, 2008 17:47:34 GMT -5
"We're in need of someone small and strong to work in the stables, and a suitable boy has presented himself." *She said simply.* "Come now, let's get you some proper shoes and something to eat, hmm?"
|
|
Robbie
- Ingenious Pilot -
Posts: 211
|
Post by Robbie on Sept 22, 2008 17:56:56 GMT -5
*Robbie followed the lady, his eyes as big as saucers and not altogether certain he was not dreaming.*
|
|
|
Post by Alice Cullen on Sept 22, 2008 18:06:15 GMT -5
*She led him quietly down a hallway into some sort of closet, where she procured clothes she thought might be a little large, but serviceable, and boys grew fast anyway--same for shoes; one pair of only-slightly-worn work boots. In all a small stack grew in her arms--the boots, a warm coat as she couldn't let him freeze to death working in the stables, some breeches and shirts--all from staff members who had either departed or outgrown the clothes.*
"Now, I'll show you to your room; you'll be sharing with Maurice, the kitchen-boy. He's about your age, perhaps a little younger."
*The room was plain but serviceable, with a fireplace on one side and two beds and two shelves for clothes, one of which had Maurice's clothes folded neatly on it. She placed the clothes on the empty bed, saying a few words to Maurice (who had been playing solitaire on his own) in French.*
*Then she turned to Robbie.* "Maurice's English is quite good; his mother, our cook, is from London, so I'll leave him to tell you about baths and usual mealtimes and all that. The kitchen's just down the hall; if you're hungry just go in and tell cook Madame said you could have late dinner."
*She smiled and disappeared, rather like a fairy godmother of some sort. Maurice just looked at Robbie a second before going back to his cards.*
|
|
Robbie
- Ingenious Pilot -
Posts: 211
|
Post by Robbie on Sept 22, 2008 18:28:17 GMT -5
*Robbie, though flummoxed, was no idiot; and even were this a dream, he ought to enjoy it as best he could. He sat on the edge of the bed and began to look over the boots, pulling them on to his stockinged feet to try them for size.*
|
|