Poor Little Rich Girl Read Online Free PDF

sixpences, Ben surmised that Miss Elliott did not find the sum alarming. He had no idea what currency was used in India, but he did know something about the price of kittens and thought that a shilling apiece was what most shop owners asked.
    Mr Madison beamed at the coins nestling in his palm and turned round to the shelf behind him, taking a large brown paper bag and a small grey object from it. ‘D’you want to pop the kitten into this ’ere bag?’ he enquired jovially. ‘You don’t want to lose her in the street. She ain’t used to traffic, nor sudden noises – she’s a country cat, she is.’
    Ben gasped at this palpable lie and wondered whether Leonora would say something sharp, since he had told her the kittens were his, but Leonora said nothing, merely popping the kitten into the stout brown paper carrier and looking curiously at the little grey object Mr Madison was holding out. ‘What is that?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘Oh, it’s a horrid little dead mouse – take it away!’
    Mr Madison chuckled comfortably. ‘It ain’t dead, nor it weren’t ever alive,’ he said. ‘It’s what they call a catnip mouse, missie. It’s just a bit o’ woollen cloth stuffed with catnip and your little kitten will have a grand time a-chasin’ of it when you’re safe home. Good day to you both and thank you for your custom. When the kitten’s old enough, you’ll be needin’ fish ends, cat’s meat and such, so I hope you’ll be poppin’ in again.’
    The two females left the shop and Ben would have followed them, but Mr Madison stopped him. ‘You’re norra bad lad,’ the older man said appreciatively. ‘Fancy a Sat’day job and mebbe a bit o’ work after school, like? Only I could do wi’ a lad to clean outcages, food and water bowls and so on. I can’t pay much but mebbe you’d be glad to earn the odd sixpence?’
    ‘Oh, Mr Madison!’ Ben said rapturously. Every kid he knew was eager to earn the odd penny for this was the Depression and money was hard to come by, even if you were a fully grown man. What was more, he had always loved animals and would enjoy nothing better than helping to keep them clean, fed and watered. ‘It’d be grand to work here. Can I start on Monday? I can be in by half-past four, if I comes straight from school.’
    Mr Madison laughed. ‘That’ll do nicely,’ he said. ‘But right now, just you go with them young ladies and make sure they get that kitten home safe.’ He winked at his young companion. ‘More money than sense, wouldn’t you say? Though she parted with her dibs uncommon easy, an’ who am I to complain when a customer pays up wi’out a murmur? Pretty gal an’ all. Now off wi’ you, young man … what’s your name, by the way?’
    ‘I’m Ben Bailey.’
    ‘How d’you do, Ben?’ Mr Madison said, bravely holding out a large, clean hand. They shook. ‘Now off with you, because if your little friend loses that kitten there’ll be hell to pay. I were listenin’ when you was a-chatting together – I reckon she’s a real handful, the young ’un, so I’d be happier if you kept watch till they’s safe home.’
    Hester Elliott ushered her charge into the big, imposing house in Shaw Street with an inward sigh of relief. She was beginning to wonder whether she would ever grow accustomed to being a governess. The trouble was, she mused, that she had led ahighly unconventional life for as long as she could remember, which made it even more difficult to try to get Lonnie to behave conventionally.
    Remembering her early years now, Hester thought that no childhood could have been happier or more strange. After her mother’s tragic death, she and Trevor Elliott had grown closer than ever. As a district officer, Mr Elliott had had to travel over a very wide area, and because he trusted no one to look after his daughter save himself, Hester had gone with him.
    For Hester, those had been halcyon days. She had had her own small tent, pitched beside that of