Page 11 of Once Upon a Midnight Dream
With careful management, wise economizing, and by utilizing the estate grounds to diversify income, Kelston Hall Children’s Home had become self-sufficient and financially independent.
Not that Lilly did not appreciate donations to the home, whether financial or of some other means. She was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Any extra funds or supplies made it possible to enhance the children’s education.
“I have a meeting with the sheriff at three Mrs. B, and I would like to look in on our patient before then to check on his progress. Perhaps, he has remembered something of importance that I can relay to Sheriff Wrottesley.”
There had been no point in contacting the sheriff before now; not only had he been out of town until three days ago, but Lilly had no information about their patient that could help identify him.
Truth be told, every time she had contemplated contacting the sheriff before, wariness and reluctance had made her stomach sink. However, once the mystery man had awakened, she could no longer delay the inevitable.
Perchance, Mr. Clement Wrottesley could uncover who the chap was.
Or at least, piece together enough information about the stranger to place announcements in Prudhoe and the neighboring communities. However, it was too soon to distribute notices with a sketch of the injured guest.
Though fading, colorful bruises, as well as numerous scabs, still covered his severely battered face. The swelling had not completely abated, either. Likely, he needed to heal another week or so before she could attempt to capture his likeness on paper.
“I trust you can watch the loaves of bread and remove them from the oven, Mrs. B?”
Lilly glanced out one of the arched kitchen windows just in time to see Joseph Boone, Miles White, and George Newcomb begin lobbing the potatoes they had dug up at one another.
“Of course, dearie.”
Mrs. B stood on a stool before the new cast iron stove and stirred an enormous pot of beef stew. She stepped down and brushed the back of her hand across her damp forehead.
“Excuse me just a moment, Mrs. B.”
Lilly rushed to the door and threw it open.
“Gent-le-men!” She enunciated each syllable.
At once, the three boys froze with the potatoes in their dirty hands, their mischievous grins fading into guilty I-have-been-caught-red-handed expressions.
“We eat those potatoes. They are our food throughout the winter.” Lilly gave each lad a hard stare. “I know I do not like bruised potatoes. What’s more, damaged potatoes rot. I also do not like going hungry because our potatoes have spoiled.”
Not that the children would ever go hungry.
However, they could certainly eat bread and gruel for a few meals to learn their lesson about wastefulness.
“We are sorry, Miss Granger.” The eldest, and no doubt the instigator, Miles, dropped a tuberous missile at his dust-covered feet. The vegetable bounced once, then rolled to a stop next to the potato plant mound from whence it had emerged minutes before.
He brushed his soiled palms on his thighs several times, and Lilly hid a wince as he left dirt streaks on his trousers.
Those marks would not come out easily.
The epitome of solemn chastisement, Joseph nodded.
“Yeth,” he lisped, wiping his fingers beneath his freckled nose and leaving a trail resembling a dirt mustache. “It shall not happen again, Mith Gwanger. I pwomith.”
His face set in determined lines, George silently set about gathering the miniature cannonballs and placing them in a neat pile.
“Very well.” Lilly gave a firm nod. “I shall deem this matter settled. Please make better choices in the future, boys. Now go wash up and spend the next hour reading your chosen novels in the library. I shall be along shortly to ask you about your books.”
“Yes, Miss Granger,” the lads chorused in unison before tearing off, no doubt grateful for the reprieve.
Perhaps, they had too much free time.
By the by, where was Miss Sanders?
The boys were supposed to be under her supervision and, had they been, the potato battle would never have commenced.
