It was, however, a surprisingly noisy, rough Mrs. Meeching that finally entered the room. Clash! Crash! Bang! Emily heard what sounded like logs tumbling into the fireplace. And there was a voice that came with them.
“Ouch! Well, if that ain’t the catfish’s whiskers, as Pa always says. A blamed splinter! Ouch! Ouch!” The voice belonged to the fishmonger’s son.
Good, thought Emily, serves him right! But she was still frightened. This was not Mrs. Meeching, but how much better was Kipper? After the way he had behaved in the kitchen with Tilly, think how he would relish turning Emily over to Mrs. Meeching! If only he would hurry with his logs and leave so Emily could escape to the parlor. But he was still dawdling with them when Mrs. Meeching returned.
“How dare you enter my room without permission!” she hissed at him in a voice stiff with rage.
“Well, the door was open, mum, ’n’ I wanted to get the logs built so’s you could have a nice fire aroaring ’fore you got back.” Kipper was using the same brand of oil he had applied to Tilly.
“Oh, I suppose that’s all right. But see you don’t do it again.”
“Oh no, mum!” said Kipper earnestly.
For a few moments there was only the sound of wood being knocked against wood, and a drawer sliding open and shut. Then suddenly Mrs. Meeching said sharply, “What was that?”
“What was what, mum?”
“That sound. I heard something drop.”
Something had indeed dropped—the peppermint from Emily’s hand! It fell right by her feet, but unfortunately just beyond the edge of the velvet drapery for the whole room to see, if it looked in the right place.
“I didn’t hear anything, mum,” said Kipper brightly. “Expect it were a bit o’ wood falling.”
“Nonsense! I heard something.” Suspicion oozed from every letter of the word.
Then logs clattered noisily in the fireplace, and Mrs. Meeching hissed her displeasure.
“Sorry ’bout that, mum,” Kipper piped up.
“Oh, never mind!” snarled Mrs. Meeching. “But as long as I must put up with this, there are a few words I’ve been meaning to have with you.” She lowered her voice. “Have you met the orphan brat that’s come here to live?”
“Yes, mum. I met the skinny little thing in the kitchen th’other day. Ain’t worth much, I’d say.”
“Quite right, Kipper! I’m only keeping her here out of the kindness of my heart—to please Mrs. Luccock. But I’m afraid Emily isn’t to be trusted. Do you understand my meaning?”
“Oh yes, mum!” said Kipper soulfully.
“Well—” There was a long pause filled with meaning. “What I want you to do is keep an eye on her whenever you’re here. Report to me if you catch her doing anything— suspicious. Snooping about, as it were. If you do, there’s a packet of peppermints in it for you!”
“Yum! Yum!” said Kipper.
“Ahhh! I see you’d like that, eh?”
“Yum! Yum!”
“That’s right, rub your stomach! Well, come to me with a report, and you shall have one.”
“Oh thank you, mum! Yum! Yum!”
“Well, that’s settled then. Now, aren’t you finished with that fireplace yet?”
“I’m not near done yet, mum. But you ain’t got any cause to worry. I’ll just finish up and close the door tight shut when I go.”
“You must do more than that, Kipper. You must fetch Mrs. Plumly to lock up.”
“Yes, mum, I’ll do that all right. Oh yes, mum.”
“That’s a very good boy.” Kipper’s oily performance was clearly having its effect on Mrs. Meeching. “Well then, I shall now leave, and—don’t forget the packet of peppermints!”
“Oh no, mum! I won’t forget. Yum! Yum!”
That slimy, slimy fishmonger’s boy! That horrible, treacherous Mrs. Meeching! Behind the velvet drapery, Emily was a seething mixture of horror and terror and rage.
A few moments passed, and then with a start, she realized that the room had suddenly become very quiet. Had Kipper already gone for Mrs. Plumly? With one trembling finger, Emily pushed the red velvet aside an inch. And found herself staring straight into a pair of scowling blue eyes!
“See here, ain’t you got more sense ’n to come nosing ’round in the snake pit? Ain’t you ’ware that the snake lady eats folks five times your size for breakfast? And lastest, but far and ’way not the leastest, seems to me you dropped something.” Kipper opened up a stern hand to reveal the offending peppermint. “Here, Emily! Yum! Yum!”
EIGHT
Fish Syrup
“Now, Miss Emily, best we get a few things straightened out ’fore you end up being the main course front o’ the snake lady at her nextest meal!” Kipper strode purposefully into the cellar laundry room, glaring at Emily. He had ordered her to wait there for him while he finished his business with Mrs. Plumly. “First, howsumever, best you tell me exactly what you was doing snooping ’bout in that room, and then you can tell me what kind o’ foolishness you was up to stealing a peppermint!”
“I—I—I—” stammered Emily. Then suddenly this was all too much for her, and she ended up doing what she had vowed she would not do. She burst into tears.
The look in Kipper’s eyes instantly softened. “Come on now, don’t cry. I’m sorry, truly I am. I shouldn’t o’ spoken to you so cross after the horrors you just been through. No matter what you done, you most likely been punished ’nough already.”
“But I didn’t do anything!” sobbed Emily. “I mean, not what you think. I wasn’t snooping, and I didn’t steal a peppermint. Someone else dropped—I—I mean, it just fell from somewhere, and I ran in to get it.”
“Fell from somewhere? From heaven I ’spect! Well, I should o’ guessed!” Kipper slapped his forehead. “You was on a rescue mission, but you don’t want to tell me for what party ’cause you still ain’t certain ’bout my credentuals. Well, can’t say I blame you
