Free Dido and Pa by Joan Aiken Page B

completed the Tunnel Music?" he asked.
    "V-very nearly, your worship. The last movement must be a courante. That is not quite com—"
    "It is of no moment. I do not at present see how it can be used at the tunnel opening. The Pretender is not yet—ah—displaced. Your music must be held over for a subsequent occasion—a firework progress, perhaps."
    "Fireworks?" muttered Mr. Twite, sounding anything but pleased.
    "You. What about the other two who carried the royal train at the coronation—the two boys and the girl?" suddenly demanded the margrave of Dido. "Where are they?"
    "One of 'em's gone off to Wales with his dad, sir; Owen Hughes, that is; and the other two has gone back to Sussex where they lives."
    "Very well—they are out of the way," murmured the margrave. "You may leave me, Bredalbane. Leave the child here, in Cinnamon Court."
    Mr. Twite seemed utterly dismayed at this order. He stammered, "B-beg pardon, your eminency.... But wouldn't it be better—don't you reckon—if Dido was to teach the cove round at our place? At Bart's Building? It'd be quieter there. She—she'd not feel easy in—in your lordship's house; 'tis much too grand, she's not accustomed—"
    "Oh? Very well. Mijnheer X shall be escorted to Bart's Building later this evening. Now leave me, if you please."
    "Your lordship don't want any therapeutical music this evening...?"
    "No. I am well. Leave me."
    Mr. Twite scuttled away, dragging Dido after him.
    "Hey! Wait a bit, Pa! I want my own does and sheepskin jacket back," she protested, as he was about to whisk her out through the front entrance. "Look—there's that Boletus chap—I'll ask him for them."
    "Oh, never mind them, my sparrow. I'll get you others—"
    But Dido, knowing the nature of her father's promises, disengaged herself from his nervous clutch and asked the steward for her clothes.
    "I'll make sure this rig is sent back to you soon's my breeks are dry," she said politely.
    Boletus curtly instructed a page to find the clothes—"if they have not already been burned," he added.
    Dido's mouth and eyes opened wide at this, but fortunately, before she could speak her mind about people who burned up other people's trousers, a redheaded page was able to produce the damp bundle. He looked a little downcast as he handed it to Dido; she wondered if he had planned to sell them to a ragman. "Thanks, cully, much obliged," she said to him gruffly. "I sets store by that there jacket; a pal gave it to me." Hoping to soften his disappointment, and remembering the apple boy, she added, "My birthday's March the fust. When's yours?"
    His face lit up. "July second!" he whispered. "In the days of Queen Dick!"—and he gave Dido a quick, friendly grin before dashing away up the marble stair.
    "Who's this cove I've got to teach, Pa?" Dido asked as she and her father walked homeward.
    Mr. Twite seemed very preoccupied. "
Fireworks,
" he
was muttering. "Fireworks and promises—both made to be blown to blazes! Yet it is true, matters are in a different train now that the Prince Over the Water is under the ground—"
    "Is it true, then, Pa—that Bonnie Prince Georgie has croaked?"
    "
Hush,
child! Mind your tongue in the open street!" Mr. Twite glanced round warily. But the streets of Wapping were even emptier than before; it snowed harder than ever. He added in a low tone, "Yes, I fear that our gallant leader is no more. Alas! But"—brightening up—"his excellency the margrave is never at a loss. Such a mind! Such a sagacity! He has already found an alternative. But let me think now—let me think how my Tunnel Music can be brought into play."
    "An alternative?" said Dido slowly. "Oh,
now
I begin to twig. Was that what his nabs meant by 'the replacement'? The cove that I'm to teach? But what am I to teach him? Don't he speak English?"
    "Why, as to that, my dove, I really cannot say," her father answered hastily. "But I am very sure that you will be able to instruct him in whatever is needful—and so I