The Baker Street Boys - The Case of the Stolen Sparklers Read Online Free PDF Page A

Vict—”
    “Queenie,” Queenie interrupted quickly. “My name’s Queenie, ma’am, er, my lady.”
    “I once had a dresser called Queenie, and very good she was too. Well, Queenie, I hope you’ll be happy with us. We have a small staff at the moment, but there’s only myself and my brother to look after. And my stepson, when he’s home for school holidays. So you shouldn’t find the work too hard.”
    “No, my lady. I’m sure I won’t.”
    “Mrs Ford will tell you your duties, of course. And Violet will show you the ropes. Right, Violet?”
    “Yes, milady.”
    “The first thing you must do is take Queenie to the draper’s and get her fitted out with a uniform. That’s a very pretty frock she’s wearing, and we don’t want it spoilt by housework, do we?”
    Violet shuffled her feet and looked embarrassed.
    “I’m sorry, milady,” she said. “I don’t think I can do that.”
    “Why ever not?”
    “The draper says he won’t give us any more credit.”
    “I see.” Lady Mountjoy bit her lip and looked for a moment as though she might cry. Then she raised her chin again defiantly. “I must have overlooked the account. Very well. I shall see to it presently.”
    “The last girl left a dress behind, milady. I should think they’re much the same size…”
    “Excellent. So, Queenie. You can wear that for the time being – just until we get things sorted out, you understand.”
    Violet took Polly through the house and up four flights of stairs, each one narrower and plainer than the last, until they reached the attic at the very top. By then, the thick carpets on the lower floors had given way to lino and thin rugs. Five doors led off the top landing. Violet told Queenie that Mr Harper and Mrs Ford each had one of the bedrooms, and two were boxrooms used for storing things.
    “And this one,” she said, opening the final door, “is ours.”
    It was a bare room, with shiny brown lino on the floor. The striped wallpaper and the curtains hanging at the single window were faded with age. The furniture consisted of a wardrobe, a washstand with a large water jug and bowl on its marble top, two wooden chairs and two iron beds.
    “That’s your bed,” Violet told Queenie. “And this one’s mine. I hope you don’t snore.”
    “Not that I know of,” Queenie answered.
    “That’s good. ’Cos I like my sleep – ’specially in the mornings. You’ll be getting up first, to clear out the grates and make up the fires. I get an extra half hour. So just make sure you don’t wake me up, or you’ll feel the rough edge of my tongue.”
    “Yes, Violet.”
    Violet opened the wardrobe. “Now then,” she said, “let’s see what we got here. My things are on this side. And those are Polly’s.”
    Two dresses, a long skirt and an outdoor coat hung on the left-hand side. On the other side was a stripy skirt, a threadbare woollen coat and a brown cotton servant’s dress, which Violet lifted out and held up against Queenie.
    “I reckon that’ll fit you, more or less,” she said. “And if it don’t, that’s just too bad.”
    “Violet,” Queenie asked as she started to get undressed, “what did you mean when you said the draper’s won’t give her ladyship any more credit?”
    “It means, they won’t let her have anything more on tick without paying cash for what she buys.”
    “Why not?”
    “’Cos she owes ’em too much money already. Now stop asking questions. Get this on and look sharp about it.”
    Queenie quickly changed into Polly’s brown dress. It was a bit big for her, but when she tied an apron round her middle it didn’t look too bad.
    “Well,” Violet said. “You’ll have to wait for your fairy godmother if you want to go to the ball. But it’ll do for now, I suppose. Hang your own frock in the wardrobe, and you can put your personal things in there.”
    She pointed to a tin box at the foot of Queenie’s bed. “There might be some of the last girl’s stuff in it, but I