The Diddakoi Read Online Free PDF

look well-groomed and well-fed,’ Miss Brooke pointed out and indeed that morning the Admiral had an old-fashioned breakfast: coffee, porridge – he liked it with salt
– kidneys on toast served in a silver dish, more toast and marmalade. It was true that Admiral Twiss looked a little lonely – the cloth was laid at one end of the long mahogany table
that could seat twenty people – but the tablecloth was fresh, ‘every morning,’ said Peters; the delicate patterned china shone with cleanliness as did the silver, the whole room.
‘Women chase dirt,’ said Peters. ‘I deal with it.’ Indeed he always seemed to have a vacuum cleaner in his hand. Twice a year, when the Admiral went away – in spring
for the racing at Aintree, the Topham Trophy and Grand National, in August to the Dublin Horse Show – a London firm, ‘of men,’ said Peters, came down and gave the House a thorough
cleaning from attics to cellars; the rest of the time most of the rooms were closed. The groundsman who looked after the cricket pitches cut the lawns and clipped the hedges; there were no
flowerbeds, only a tangled jungle where flowers had been, but Peters kept the vegetable garden with an old man who came from the village every day. The ‘old ’un’, as they called
him, looked after the greenhouses too. ‘It’s not impeccable but it’s all in order,’ said Admiral Twiss, ‘and peaceful,’ he might have added.
    Peters usually served the Admiral in the companionable silence they kept together, but this morning he seemed excited – excited for Peters, which meant his eyes were even bluer than their
usual speedwell blue, his forehead was flushed and he limped more quickly. Something had happened, but Peters did not speak of it until the Admiral had finished, nor did the Admiral ask him, but
when he wiped his moustaches and put the napkin down, ‘Admiral Sir,’ said Peters, ‘the little girl is here.’
    ‘What little girl?’
    ‘From the orchard. You know they burned the wagon last night.’
    ‘Yes, the old woman wanted it,’ said Admiral Twiss.
    ‘Well, that’s their business,’ said Peters. ‘Nat just went out to quiet the horses – smelled it in the stables they did – but this morning when I come down,
there was Mrs Lovell’s old horse on the drive.’
    ‘Frightened off?’
    ‘No, sir – it was on a rope and when I opened the front door, the child was asleep on the step – like a frozen bird,’ said Peters.
    ‘Good Lord!’ said the Admiral.
    ‘Yes, sir. The step and her clothes were covered with snow but the rope was still in her hand, the horse standing there patient, dejected like.’
    ‘How long had they been there?’
    ‘Hours I guess,’ said Peters. ‘Most like she didn’t dare to knock or ring.’
    ‘Why didn’t you call me?’
    ‘Hadn’t had your breakfast, sir.’ In Peters’ opinion no small gypsy or, indeed, anyone should interfere with the Admiral’s breakfast and, ‘I attended to her,
sir,’ said Peters with dignity.
    ‘What did you do?’
    ‘Called Nat, made over the horse to him. He rubbed it down and gave it gruel with beer. Not used to being in, so he thought best to put it in the yard with some hay. Nice old hoss,’
said Peters. ‘Nat says it must have been a good ’un once . . . not bony like a gypsy’s horse, well-fed.’
    ‘And the child?’ asked the Admiral.
    ‘Took her in the kitchen by the fire,’ said Peters. ‘Got off her boots and clothes, shabby and old but clean – except the boots. Wrapped her up in that old camel hair
dressing gown of yours, sir, thought it would be soft and warm; blankets over that with a hot bottle to her feet and stomach. She whimpered from the pain as she warmed. Didn’t cry, but her
eyes . . .’ Peters swallowed. ‘Big as teacups they looked in her dirty little face, dirt and tears, sir. I gave her hot milk with an egg beaten up and plenty of sugar, sugar for the
shock. There’s been a shock, sir.’
    ‘She’s