Just Like Magic Read Online Free PDF Page A

don’t think I can read, do you?”
I thwacked my pencil down. Filthy rooms, mongrel dogs, and now illiterates. “Then how will you know what to get?” I snapped.
“Oh, I know the regular stuff, miss. Just tell me if you want a roast, or chops, or what.”
“A roast,” I said. It sounded good, and surely it couldn’t be too difficult.
“Right. Then I’ll be back in a jiff.” He crammed another piece of toast into his mouth and banged his way out the door.
“Boys!” I said to Archibald, who had wandered in and was now whining for some toast. “And you’re no better!” Finding a bowl, I broke some bread into it. “If you don’t like this, you’ll have to go hungry.”
At that moment, the door at the head of the stairs opened and Gerta’s voice called, “Ella? Where’s our breakfast? Hurry up, will you?”
“Yes, Your Majesty!” I poured myself another cup of tea and took a slow sip. The door slammed.
Half an hour later I balanced a tray upstairs with tea (hot and leafy) and—surprise!—toast (scorched and scraped) with jam. Lucy took a look and made a face. “Can’t you make anything else?” she said.
“Not until the boy comes back with the food. Besides, I don’t know anything about cooking.” I set her plate down and turned to go.
“It seems to me you could take a little interest in it, seeing as it’s in your blood!” Lucy shot at my back. I slammed her door and had to stop and take several deep breaths in the hall before pushing my way into Gerta’s room without knocking and thumping her plate down on her bed, but she didn’t even look up from the novel she was reading (The Haunted Castle of Shadowmere ) as she lay back against the pillows. “I hope dinner isn’t this late!” was her only remark.
Stepmama was also in bed. “Oh, my dear, would you help me on with my dressing gown?” she moaned. “And then perhaps you could scrub these windows. I daren’t put up our curtains, and it is so depressing!”
I put down her plate and picked up her dressing gown. “I’m sure the boy will get to the windows, but he’s out shopping now. He’s only here three mornings a week, you know.”
“I know, but couldn’t you do it yourself, dear? It wouldn’t take but a moment.”
“Stepmama,” I said, arranging her gown as she settled back against her pillows, “if you want meals, I need to work on them. I’m sure I won’t have any time for scrubbing windows. The boy will do it when he can.”
“Oh, dear. I suppose you’re right,” Stepmama sighed and reached for her tea. “And about the laundry, dear—”
But I had escaped downstairs. Henry had returned and was sitting at the table, eating more bread. I snatched up the end of the loaf and put it on a shelf. “There’ll be no eating when there’s work to be done! Now show me how to use the stove.”
“Well, the wood goes in here, miss.” Henry pulled open a square black door and started jamming wood in. “The little pieces on the bottom, like in the fireplace, remember?”
I didn’t remember and I didn’t care. “Just light it,” I said, waving a hand.
“Don’t need to light it yet, miss! Maybe in half an hour, before you put the roast in? Just light the tinder with a coal.”
That sounded fairly simple. “So where do I put the roast?”
“Here. In the oven.” He opened another door. “And when you want to change the heat, make it hot or not so hot—”
“I understand, Henry.”
“—you slide this little thingummy here. If it’s open, it’s hotter. Try it, miss.”
I slid the thingummy with a finger. All right, I had that mastered.
“That’s about it, miss. I’ll just be bringing in some more wood, and then I’ll be off. My mum’ll be expecting me.”
I wiped my finger on my handkerchief and looked around as he dropped his load of wood. The kitchen was moderately clean, and we had food, fire, and water. “All right, Henry, you may go. Be sure to be here early on Thursday! You can start off working in the