Free Nancy Atherton by Aunt Dimity [14] Aunt Dimity Slays the Dragon Page A

Her words
    pleased me no end. My sons had always been little princes in my eyes,
    so I thought it both fitting and proper that they should dress the part.
    I took one last, satisfied look at the tunics, then closed the garment bag and hurried out to join the twins, who’d managed to haul
    the day pack as far as the Rover’s rear cargo door. They were on
    their way back to the kitchen, intent on removing their father
    bodily from the breakfast table, when the man himself emerged
    from the cottage, clad in baseball cap, polo shirt, khaki shorts, and
    sneakers.
    “Why aren’t you in the car?” he asked the boys, feigning astonishment. “You don’t want to be late, do you?”
    Will and Rob scrambled into the Rover. I buckled them into
    their booster seats, kissed them good-bye, and reminded them to
    mind their manners. I was about to add a brief lecture on riding
    safety when I heard Bill give a low whistle. I looked up to see him
    standing at the cargo door, hefting the day pack.
    “I hope you remembered to put the kitchen sink in here,” he
    said. “We may have to wash King Wilfred’s dishes before the day is
    through.”
    “I knew I forgot something,” I said, snapping my fingers. “Wait
    here. I’ll run in and get the sink.”
    “Never mind,” Bill said, laughing. “Milords and I must make
    haste. We’ll see you”—he glanced at his watch—“in approximately
    three hours.” He closed the cargo door, climbed into the driver’s
    seat, and pulled out of the driveway, bellowing, “Onward, knights of
    the realm! Your steeds await!”
    I ran to the mouth of the drive and waved to them, feeling like a
    damsel left behind to dust the castle while her men galloped off on
    a crusade. When the Rover vanished around the first curve, I returned to the kitchen to wash the breakfast dishes, then wandered
    54 Nancy Atherton
    into the back garden to peer longingly in the direction of Bishop’s
    Wood.
    The air was filled with the familiar sounds of birdsong and rustling leaves, but silence reigned on the other side of the stile. Unlike
    my sons—and, to be honest, myself—Jinks recognized the virtues
    of sleeping past dawn.
    The builders were awake, though. As I turned toward the cottage, the faint buzz of a solitary handsaw drifted to me on the morning breeze. Someone, it seemed, was finishing a last-minute project
    at the fair. I wondered if he was working on the three-tiered, moated
    castle or the gigantic fi re-breathing dragon, told myself I’d fi nd out
    soon, and went into the cottage, tingling with anticipation.
    You must be very proud of yourself, Lori.
    I smiled down at the blue journal. I’d decided to spend a few
    minutes in the study before leaving for the fair, and Aunt Dimity’s
    praise made me feel as though I’d made the right choice.
    You’ve exercised an unprecedented amount of self-restraint over the past
    month, my dear. The old Lori would have clambered to the top of Pouter’s
    Hill twice a day with a pair of high-powered binoculars to monitor the
    building site in Bishop’s Wood, but the new Lori has successfully quelled her
    curiosity.
    “Yes, she has,” I said, preening.
    You’ve also resisted the urge to peer over the stile at your interesting new
    neighbor.
    “I’m not a Peeping Tom,” I protested.
    Of course you’re not. You are, however, a trained and talented member
    of the Finch Busybody Society. As such, I would have expected you to keep
    abreast of Mr. Jinks’s activities. You have, however, defi ed my expectations.
    “Thank you,” I said.
    Finally, while the old Lori would have worn her medieval finery without
    pausing to consider the consequences, the new Lori refuses to behave impul-
    sively.
    Aunt Dimity Slays the Dragon
    55
    I glanced down at my sandals and my apple-green summer
    frock and felt a distinct twinge of regret for the costume I’d left
    hanging in my wardrobe. I’d tried it on a dozen times, after Sally
    had given me instructions on how to wear it.