Drops of Gold Read Online Free Page A

“What shall you do with your family today?”
    “Oh, they are all gone.”
    Again, the unemotional explanation of an unusual situation. Perhaps Miss Caroline did not even realize that a household where “everyone leaves,” as well as having her family gone on Christmas Day, was an unexpected situation.
    “Where have they gone?” Marion wanted more information about this unusual household. If she knew more, she might discover the reason she’d been hired as governess to a child far too young for the schoolroom.
    “Papa is in Stuckfolk,” Miss Caroline said.
    Fighting down a laugh, Marion corrected, “Suffolk.”
    “Mm-hmm. With Grammy and all the boys.”
    “Boys?” Mrs. Sanders hadn’t mentioned any boys in the household. Perhaps she was to teach them. They ought to have tutors though. No. Mrs. Sanders’s letter specifically said she was to be governess to Miss Caroline.
    “Papa has lots of big boys,” Miss Caroline said.
    “Do they live here?” Perhaps she’d been hired under false pretenses.
    “No-o-o.” Miss Caroline pulled back enough to look Marion in the face. “They live lots of places.” She began counting off on her dimpled fingers. “With the horses.” A groom? “With the books.” Hmm. “With all the blue.” What does that mean? “At Painage and Beatin’. And Flip lives all over.”
    “Ah.” Marion nodded her head as if the explanation was perfectly clear. “That sounds . . . exciting.”
    Miss Caroline smiled brightly.
    “I’ve brought you a ribbon for your hair. A Christmas present.” Marion was glad she’d chosen a blue ribbon during her wait for the mail in Southwell. The ribbon would nearly match the color of Miss Caroline’s eyes.
    “Will my hair ever be like yours?” Miss Caroline asked, her eyes plastered to Marion’s ruler-straight fiery red hair with something akin to envy.
    “Why would you wish for hair like mine?” Marion asked amusedly. “Especially when yours is so lovely.”
    “Harriet said it was fuzzy.”
    “Harriet?”
    Miss Caroline shrugged. “She left. She said my hair was fuzzy every time she brushed it.”
    “Curly hair can be fuzzy when it’s brushed.” Marion remembered vividly a childhood friend plagued with the same problem. “One must comb curls.”
    The child pouted. “I do not have a comb.”
    “Perhaps your mother does.”
    “Mama is gone too,” Miss Caroline said. “Papa said she won’t come back.”
    Had Miss Caroline’s mother passed on? Or were her parents estranged? She would not question Miss Caroline on such a potentially delicate subject.
    “Well, I have a comb. It belonged to my papa. I think it will work well until we can ask your papa for one of your own.”
    “Oh, could we really?” Excitement lit her eyes.
    Marion nodded.
    One half hour later, Miss Caroline was dressed, her hair carefully combed, the cobalt-blue ribbon tied in an adorable bow over one ear. Over the course of the ministrations, Marion learned that Miss Caroline had experienced the departure of at least six nursemaids ( she being the only governess so far), none of whom stayed long, by a child’s reckoning, at least. Her father, though away at the moment, had been present enough to make a favorable impression on his daughter. Miss Caroline spoke highly of him and the time they spent together. Such a contrast to the less-than-flattering description Maggie had offered earlier.
    “Papa is wonderful!” Miss Caroline explained as they crossed the schoolroom to the child-sized table. “He doesn’t call me Miss. I like that.”
    Marion attempted to explain. “Your father need not call you Miss. The servants do so because they respect you.”
    “Couldn’t they like me instead of ’specting me?”
    Marion hated to disappoint her, but the girl needed to understand how these things worked. “I do not think that would be a good idea.”
    “Can you not call me Miss? I don’t want you to. Please!”
    Marion sensed an aching loneliness behind the