Read Magic Below Stairs for Free Online Page B

workmanlike.”
    â€œVery rude of you to ignore them.” Lord Schofield sounded nettled.
    â€œIt was never my intention,” said Billy Bly, “to be rude. It is less than polite, some folk might point out, to set charms on your house to keep folk like me at a distance. Condemned without a hearing, you might say.”
    â€œYou might say so, but as it is my house, I would not,” said Lord Schofield. “Did you come to us from the same orphanage young Frederick did?”
    â€œThat’s right,” said Billy Bly. “Been there for years. I was among the students, barristers, and benchers next door at Lincoln’s Inn for years before that.”
    Lord Schofield looked amused. “No doubt that’s where you picked up your legal education.”
    The question seemed to make Billy Bly cross. “If you mean I am a stickler for rules, that’s right. I also like a place with plenty of interest, lots of things happening. Splendid grub, too.”
    â€œIf life there suited you so well, why leave?” asked Lord Schofield.
    â€œThe usual story.” Billy Bly sighed. “Too much of a good thing. The place attracted a low element, hobgoblins no better than scaff and raff. They fought over scraps.”
    â€œSo you moved on in search of better neighbors?” Lord Schofield guessed. “Before they moved you out by force?”
    â€œNo competition to speak of at the orphanage,” Billy Bly agreed. “No surprise there. The cooking was so bad, the mice complained.”
    â€œWhy did you stay?” Frederick asked. “If it’s good food you like, the orphanage was no place for you.”
    â€œThat swine Makepeace.” Billy Bly looked embarrassed. “His favorite amusement was punishing you orphans. There he was spilling beans and then ordering you boys to pick up after him, or to put things in order by size, or to count them. Counting is my favorite. Once I’ve begun a task like that, I have to finish it. It’s not my fault, it’s the way I’m made. I could no more walk away from counting mustard seeds than I could walk into a church on Easter morning.”
    â€œThen why did you leave?” Frederick asked, more puzzled than ever.
    If possible, Billy Bly looked even more embarrassed. “You seemed a nice lad,” he said at last. “When you flitted, I thought I’d flit with you, see you were looked after properly.”
    Frederick was horrified to feel his throat tighten with tears. Except for Vardle perhaps, no one had ever cared tuppence whether Frederick had been looked after properly or thrown in the river. He could hardly keep from showing how much the little man’s words meant to him. “That—that was very kind of you.”
    â€œThe pleasure was all mine,” said Billy Bly. “The food here is far better, and whatever his shortcomings, the cook here knows when to put down a nice saucer of cream and look the other way.”
    â€œOh, he does, does he?” Lord Schofield looked thoughtful. “I can see I’ll have to have a chat with Grant about that. You have done very little damage during your stay here. I commend you for your restraint. But I know the ways of brownies and hobgoblins too well to believe that can go on for long.”
    â€œYou may dock the cost of the napkin from my wages,” Frederick said. “It was my fault for falling asleep before my work was done.”
    Lord Schofield looked a little sad. “Billy Bly helps you with your work. He came with you from the orphanage. If he leaves, will you leave with him?”
    With a pang, Frederick thought of his clean clothes and his comfortable bed. He thought of the food, good and plentiful, and the pleasure and pride he took in earning a steady wage. “Must I go?”
    â€œThat’s for you to decide. But go Billy Bly must. I don’t blame either of you for ruining the napkin. You didn’t do it and