She caught Oscar’s eye. “Will it offend you if I dismantle your sewing attempts and begin again? White thread will be less noticeable than the black you’ve used so far.”
“I couldn’t find any white thread.”
“Then it’s fortunate I keep a small sewing case in my bag.” She pulled a small silver tin from her bag and took white thread and a sharp needle from it. After snipping away the thread Oscar used with a pair of minuscule scissors, she bent over the doll, making tiny stitches as she began reattaching Susie’s arm. “If you’re so good with languages and arithmetic, Oscar,” she began casually, keeping her attention on her work, “how is it you failed your classes toward the end of last semester?”
“Father told you that?”
“In passing. He mentioned he’s considering bringing in a tutor to help you make up the work so you can finish the grade you almost completed. I believe he did that mentioning so I’ll be prepared to schedule in time for him to meet with that tutor once he arrives in Newport.”
“He won’t need to meet with any tutor. I’m not going to make up the work because I’m not going back to school.”
“You didn’t care for the school?”
“He loves it,” Priscilla said, exchanging a look with Samuel before she returned her attention to Gwendolyn, seemingly making a point of not glancing to Oscar. “He only came home cuz he knew me and Samuel didn’t have nobody to read us stories at night.”
As Gwendolyn’s heart gave a bit of a wobble, Oscar narrowed an eye on his sister.
“You weren’t supposed to say anything about that, Priss.”
Priscilla crossed her arms over her chest. “You told me not to tell Papa. You didn’t say anything about me saying something if someone else asked me.”
“Because I didn’t think anyone would ask about it,” Oscar grumbled. “But because you and Sam are both fidgeting, you knew it was meant to be kept a secret from everyone.”
“I didn’t know it was a secret” was all Priscilla said to that, but given the way she was trying not to smile, it was relatively easy to discern she wasn’t exactly being truthful.
Nevertheless, since Oscar obviously didn’t care to discuss the matter further—because he was now pretending to be preoccupied with looking out the nursery window—Gwendolyn concentrated on stitching on the arm, her mind sifting through the telling information she’d just been served up by a set of precocious twins who seemed to be quite intelligent, like their older brother, who’d clearly failed school on purpose.
After making a knot to secure the thread, Gwendolyn handed the doll back to Priscilla. “There you go. Susie is now almost as good as new. And, since we’ve gotten her reattached to her arm, what say we get on our way?”
“Where are we going?” Oscar asked.
“I thought we’d go to the beach, but not Bailey’s Beach. We’ll find a place we can enjoy all by ourselves, build some sandcastles we can then stomp on, collect some shells, and perhaps do a bit of fishing.”
“Why would we collect shells?” Samuel asked.
“Because it’s an amusing pastime. We can gather up shells and paint faces on them later.”
“Why would we do that?” Priscilla asked.
Gwendolyn smiled. “It’s fun to see the different faces you can make on a shell. Turns them into something interesting.”
“Huh” was all Priscilla said to that as Oscar got to his feet.
“I know a spot not far from here where I fish,” he said. “There’s a path that leads right to the beach.”
“Then that’s where we’ll go. But first, I need all of you to change into clothing that can get dirty.”
“The twins don’t have anything like that,” Oscar said. “I do, but only because I stash away garments Grandmother wants to send to the ragbag.”
Gwendolyn rose from the small chair. “I’m sure there’s something in Priscilla’s and Samuel’s closets that’ll work. But speaking of closets”—she plucked a hairpin out of her hair and arched a brow the twins’ way—“your grandmother told me the two of you have been known to lock unsuspecting people in wardrobes.” She gave the hairpin a wave. “This right here is a most marvelous invention, and one that has far more uses than simply being an object to secure a lady’s hair. I’m rather adept at picking locks with pins whenever I find myself, unintentionally of course, locked in a child’s closet with the key mysteriously vanishing.”
Samuel’s eyes grew huge. “You know how to pick locks?”
“Indeed, which means there’s no reason for you or your sister to get up to any high jinks, because that type of mischief could very well see you missing our fun adventure today.” After sending the twins a wink, Gwendolyn made her way out of the nursery, mutters immediately following in her wake.
“She’s a bit scary,” Samuel said.
“Some might even consider her terrifying,” Oscar added.
“I like her,” Priscilla said firmly, which left Gwendolyn smiling as she realized she was having the most fun she’d had since landing in Newport. Which just went to show that sometimes it really was the little things in life that made life worth living—such as learning she’d earned the approval of three children who weren’t nearly as naughty as everyone thought them to be.
Twenty
“How are we going to carry everything to the beach?” Priscilla asked, looking at the mountain of pails, shovels, one blanket, and an assortment of fishing gear, including poles, a tackle box, and a pail filled with dirt that contained nightcrawlers Oscar had dug up the day before.
“We can take Bert,” Oscar said.
Gwendolyn arched a brow. “Bert?”
“He’s our pony. You know, the one Miss, ah, Tilbert gave us,” Samuel said.
“She’s Miss Tilden,” Gwendolyn corrected. “But did you name him Bert because you thought her name was Tilbert?”
“Course not,” Samuel said. “His name’s Excalibert, but Priss can’t say that, so Oscar thought we should just call him Bert.”
“I can too say Excali-bart. You’re the one sayin’ it wrong,” Priscilla said. “That means his name should be Bart, not Bert.”
“Neither of you is saying it correctly, because it’s Excalibur,” Oscar argued. “But we’re not calling the pony Bur. He’d take that as an insult.”
“Too right he might,” Gwendolyn said. “But I’m not sure we should take Bert with us. He is, after all, rumored to be a rather contrary creature.”
“Bert’s getting better at behaving himself,” Oscar argued. “He just needed attention. Now that he’s getting that from all of us, he’s not contrary at all.”
“If Bert gets to go, so should Rat,” Samuel said.
Gwendolyn shook her head. “I’m sorry, Samuel, but the beach isn’t the place for a guinea pig. If he were to make another escape, there’s every possibility we won’t be able to catch him again.”
“You caught him at the church,” Samuel pointed out.