Dido and Pa by Joan Aiken Page B

good as I got. It's a hem shame the way he clobbered that little 'un.
    The child heeded Mr. Twite's warning and, despite her bad footwear, made good speed; in six or seven minutes she was back, and this was just as well, for all the time she was out of the house, Mrs. Bloodvessel continued to shriek and writhe. Mr. Twite seemed accustomed to this, and paid it little heed.
    "She often gets seized this way of an evening," he explained. He took the laudanum the Slut had bought—it was a red, syrupy liquid—poured a spoonful into a glass, added some spirits of Geneva from a square bottle, and a teaspoonful of sugar, then administered the dose to Mrs. Bloodvessel.
    It soon calmed her; she drew a deep breath, smiled, looked at herself in the glass, and, muttering that she was a sight, withdrew and was heard going upstairs, but called down to ask that her fagot be set before the fire to keep hot, for she was sharp set and would be down to eat it directly.
    Mr. Twite sliced up the loaf of bread, having first inspected it narrowly to make sure that the crust had not been nibbled. Then he gave Dido her fagot. (This was quite different from the instruments played upon by Mr. Twite's companions.) It consisted of a lump of chopped liver and
lights, rolled into a ball and cooked inside a pig's caul. It was served on a slice of bread, with gravy poured over.
    Being ravenous, Dido was about to take a bite, when Mr. Twite said to the Slut, "What are
you
hanging about for? Get back to the basement."
    "Don't
she
get no supper?" demanded Dido, surprised; and the Slut humbly whispered, "Oh, please, sir, mayn't I have a bit o' bread?"
    "
Fresh bread?
D'you think we are aldermen?" growled Mr. Twite. "Wait till your mistress comes down."
    The shuffling steps of Mrs. Bloodvessel were now heard descending. When she came in, with her hair newly dressed in corkscrew curls and some rouge dabbed about her cheeks, Mr. Twite said:
    "Here's the Slut asking for dinner."
    "Ho, she is, is she?"
    Mrs. Bloodvessel unlocked a small cupboard with a zinc mesh across the front, and took from it a tin plate on which lay some stale crusts and half a cold potato.
    "There, then, take that and go back below," she said shortly, pushing it at the servant.
    "Don't she get no fagot?" said Dido.
    The Slut gaped at Dido, as if she had said something in Portuguese.
    "Meat? For her? Are you daft, girl?" said Mrs. Bloodvessel. "Give us another dram of loddy, Desmond."
    While Mr. Twite was mixing the drink, Dido quickly broke her own fagot in half—by no means an easy operation, for it was soft, hot, and greasy—and put the larger portion of it on the child's plate, gesturing with a nod that she had better make off with it before anybody noticed. The Slut's eyes and mouth opened so wide that there was nothing left of her face; staring at the plate as if it held a ruby-studded crown, she slip-slopped out of the room at top speed.
    "Best lock her in, Desmond," said Mrs. Bloodvessel, sipping her ruby drink. "Or there's no saying what she'll be up to."
    "Dido will do that," said Mr. Twite. "Take the key, Dido."
    A candle on the hall table was guttering toward its end in a pool of wax. Dido blew out the candle, scooped it and the hot wax together into a lump, and then pressed the key, hard, into the side of the lump. She wrapped this inside her bundle of jacket and trousers, which had been left on the stairs, then ran softly down to the basement room.
    "You got any bedclothes in there?" she asked.
    "What, miss?" mumbled the Slut, who was eating as fast as she could.
    "Bedding, covers?"
    "No, miss."
    "I'll only make believe to lock up. Then later I'll see if I can bring you summat."
    "All right, miss."
    The Slut sounded doubtful; probably she did not believe Dido meant what she said.
    "What's your name?"
    "I dunno, miss; sometimes 'e calls me Is."
    "Is? Is that a name? When's your birthday? Mine's March first."
    "I don't think as I've got a birthday, miss; what is a birthday?"
    "Oh,