Dido and Pa by Joan Aiken

told his excellency—you are such a remarkably clever chick! And you had better do so, and quickly—mind that!" he added. "It was only because I persuaded the margrave as to—as to your special knowledge—that he agreed to give you a trial. Otherwise, believe me, you would by now be floating in the Pool of London along with Lord Forecastle and the others—and
that
would be a hem waste," he added to himself, "if what the costermonger said is right."
    Dido stared frowningly at her father; then walked along beside him in silence, deep in thought. The margrave is arranging for all the king's friends to be killed off, she thought; or anyone who knows him to speak to. There aren't many of those. Why's he doing that? So as no one will cut up rough when this other cove is fetched in? But who is the other cove—the one I'm to teach? Bonnie Prince Georgie's son? His brother?—And
that's
why Simon is in danger, she thought: because he knows the king, he said so. Croopus, things around here are in a rabshackle way. I ought to warn Simon; but if I sent a message it might just make more danger for him.
    One thing's for certain, she thought: that margrave is a right spooky devil. I sure don't go for him above half. And here's Pa, a-readied to lick a path for the guy, all the way down the stairs and out into the street, do he only say the word. It's fair disgusting.
    "Pa," she said after a while, "that was a ripsmashing piece that you and the others was a-playing on your fagotts and hoboys."
    "Naturally it was," her father replied absently. "I am the greatest composer of these times."
    "What's it called?"
    "It is my Eisengrim Concerto number three. I am writing a set of seven, in honor of the margrave."
    "
Must
you work for that pesky fellow, Pa? I don't like him."
    "My sylph, he is the only one who appreciates me. Furthermore, if King Richard's officers were aware of my presence in London, I would be hanged up directly, like a flitch of bacon. A musician of my caliber!"
    But that ain't to do with your music, thought Dido; it's naught to do with music; it's on account of your havey-cavey Hanoverian dealings.
    Oh, why can't people do just
one
thing, instead of being so muxed-up?
    She sighed, and said, "I ain't half hungry, Pa."
    "I could peck a bit myself," he said. "We'll send the Slut round to the cooked meat shop."
    The Slut, Dido wondered. And who may the Slut be?
    They were now back in Farthing Fields, and soon turned into Farthing Court, the narrow alley in which Bart's Building stood. Dido had a momentary impulse to take to her heels and make a dash for it; she could easily outrun her father and would soon be clear away from him in the network of dark silent streets. She could ask her way to Chelsea.... But there was the man in the three-cornered hat at the end of the street. Once he'd seen you, you'd get no farther, her father had said.
    And then Simon would be in horrible danger. Maybe things is best as they are, Dido thought. The way I'm fixed here, teaching this Mijnheer X, whoever he be, mayhap I can find out more about what old Margrave Eisengrim is up to, and put a spoke in his wheel. He's one as'll bear watching, that's certain. I reckon it'd be a good thing for King Dick if that one were under hatches.
    Mr. Twite had brought a key with him this time and used it to unlock the door. As they reentered the black, silent, leaning house by the water's edge, Dido asked, "Do this house belong to Mrs. Bloodvessel, Pa?"
    "She rents it from the margrave, child," he replied absently. "The margrave owns much property hereabouts." He was paying little heed, for, as they passed through the door, loud hysterical sobs could be heard coming from the room where, that morning, Dido had been given the overspiced eggnog.
    When they entered the room—which was thick with blue cigar smoke—Dido found that the source of the noise was Mrs. Bloodvessel, who seemed very afflicted, crying, wailing, and shrieking, throwing herself back and forth in