Free The Ruby in the Smoke by Philip Pullman

in anytime. . . ."
    He was looking at an appointment book.
    "No. No, it was—"
    The door opened, and the little man ducked under the counter.
    "Be damned to the whole tribe of—" came a roar from the photographer, and then he stopped at once. He stood in the doorway and grinned, and Sally realized that she'd forgotten how full of life and movement his face was.
    "Hello!" he said, in the friendliest possible manner. "Miss Lockhart, isn't it?"
    He was suddenly propelled into the shop, and there in his place stood a young woman two or three years older than Sally. Her red hair flared over her shoulders, her eyes blazed, and she held a sheaf of papers in her clenched fist. Sally thought: But she's beautiful! And so she was— astonishingly lovely.
    "You're slovenly, Frederick Garland!" she stormed.

    "These bills have been waiting since Easter, and what have you done about it? What have you spent the money on? What do you ever do but—"
    "What do I do?" He turned back to her, his voice rising powerfully. "What do I do? I work harder than any band of painted mummers who loaf about in the back of a theater! What about the polarizing lens—d'you think I got that by whistling for it? And the gelatin process—"
    "The devil take your bloody gelatin process. What do you mean, loaf? I will not have my work insulted by a second-rate . . . daguerrotypist whose only idea of art is—"
    "Daguerrotypist? Second-rate? How dare you, you ranting puppet—"
    "Skulking bankrupt!"
    "Howling termagant!"
    And the next moment he turned to Sally, as calm as a bishop, and said politely: "Miss Lockhart, may I introduce my sister, Rosa?"
    Sally blinked and found herself smiling. The young woman held out her hand and smiled in return. Of course they were brother and sister—he was nowhere near as good-looking as she was, but the sheer life and energy of expression was the same in both of them.
    "Have I called at a bad time?" she said.
    He laughed, and the little man came out from under the counter like a tortoise out of its shell.
    "No," said Miss Garland, "not at all. If you want to be photographed, you've come just in time—there might not be a business at all tomorrow."
    She cast an angry glance at her brother, who waved it aside airily.

    "No, I don't want to be photographed," said Sally. "In fact, I only came because . . . well, I met Mr. Garland last Friday, and . . ."
    "Oh! You're the girl from Swaleness! He told me all about it."
    "Can I go back to me plates now?" said the little man.
    "Yes, go on, Trembler," said the photographer, seating himself calmly on the counter as the little man touched his brow nervously and scuttled out. "He's preparing some plates, you see. Miss Lockhart, and he got a little worried. My sister tried to assassinate me."
    "Someone ought to," Rosa said darkly.
    "She's very excitable. She's an actress—can't help it."
    "I'm sorry to interrupt," said Sally. "I shouldn't have come."
    "Are you in trouble?" said Rosa.
    Sally nodded. "But I don't want to—"
    "Is it the witch again?" asked the photographer.
    "Yes. But ..." She stopped. / wonder if I dare? she thought. "Did you say—I'm sorry, but I couldn't help hearing—did you say you needed an accountant?"
    "So my sister tells me."
    "Of course we do," Rosa said hotly. "This photographic clown has got us into the most appalling muddle, and if we don't sort it out soon—"
    "Exaggeration," he said. "It won't take long to sort out."
    "Well, do it then!" she flared at him.
    "I can't. I haven't got the time, I haven't got the talent, and I certainly haven't got the inclination."
    "I was going to say," Sally went on diflidently, "that I'm good with figures—I used to help my father draw up his company balance sheets, and he taught me all about

    bookkeeping and accounts—I'd be glad to help! I mean, I came here to ask for—for help. But if I can do something in exchange, that would be better, perhaps. I don't know."
    She finished lamely, blushing. That speech had been