Free The Miser's Sister by Carola Dunn Page A

hugged and kissed the bewildered and overwhelmed sisters.
    “You know who we are then, ma’am?” asked Ruth shyly.
    “Of course, my dear, of course. A certain gentleman, who shall be nameless, told me all about you. And that same gentleman intimated that you might wish to remain incognito, so I have been at some pains to think of suitable aliases. You, my dear, shall be Miss Priscilla Cholmondsley-Smythe, and your sister, Miss Arabella. Is not that clever?”
    “It is indeed, ma’am ... ”
    “Auntie, Auntie, pray call me Auntie!”
    “Those are excellent names, Auntie.” Ruth’s shyness had by now been overcome by amusement. Letty, meanwhile, had seated herself by the window and was looking out sulkily into Dolphin Street. “Only do you not think,” suggested Ruth, “that we should perhaps have less aristocratic aliases? I should happily call myself Mary Smith.”
    “That would never do,” said Auntie decidedly. “There is nothing, simply nothing, so liable to arouse suspicion as a person named plain Smith. I take your point though, my dear. Here, I have a list of possibilities. Pray peruse it and make your choice.”
    Auntie had apparently discarded a score of names before settling on Priscilla Cholmondsley-Smythe. Ignoring her sister’s crotchets, Ruth called her over to help choose. Soon they were giggling over such gems as Persephone Arbuthnot and Ekaterina Dachikoff.
    “In case you should wish to be thought foreign,” explained Auntie, not in the least offended.
    Letty rather fancied herself as Lavinia Streathamstead, but in the end Ruth prevailed and they were newly christened ‘Jane and Louisa Bailey’.
    “Very good,” Auntie approved. “A step above Mary Smith yet not likely to draw attention. We will tell people you are my nieces. I am always happy to discover new nieces, you know.”
    Martha was heard to snort in the kitchen.
    By the time Bob Polgarth returned from the barn he rented to house his balloon, ‘Jane’ and ‘Louisa’ had long been settled in his chamber. Letty was reconciled to her strange hostess, whose humble abode she was honouring with her presence. Ruth felt some qualms about having displaced their host, and wondered if he would be very angry. She apologised as soon as the introductions had been made.
    “Pleasure to help a friend of Oliver’s,” he muttered, his face scarlet, and dashed into the kitchen to wash for dinner.
    The meal was a simple one, consisting of a pea soup, grilled mackerel, lamb chops with mint sauce, and apples, with plenty of fresh baked bread. To Ruth and Letty, it seemed a veritable feast, used as they were to the skimpiest of fare, and badly cooked at that. The company was an equally great improvement, as even Letty later acknowledged.
    Auntie, always cheerful, continually confused their new names, but Ruth suspected that she would have done the same with the originals. Far from asking inquisitive questions, she ignored the unexplained reasons for their arrival, and entertained them with a caustic commentary on the ways of Cornish fisherfolk.
    “However,” she admitted with a sigh, “I am very fond of all of them.”
    Bob was silent until Ruth tactfully introduced the subject dearest to his heart. Both young ladies found the idea of flying through the air fascinating. Letty lost interest when their host entered upon technical matters, but Ruth, remembering Oliver’s penchant for engineering, eagerly absorbed the details and requested elucidation. In fact, she found she had a genuine interest in the subject, which Mr Polgarth was unable to satisfy. He could describe the apparatus by which inflammable gas was to be produced to fill his balloon, but was ignorant of the theories behind it.
    “Daresay Oliver knows,” he told her, and she resolved to find an opportunity to ask that gentleman.
    The spring flight in which the Pardoes were investing was to be an attempt to fly from Land’s End to John o’ Groats. Bob explained that he actually