Wilma Tenderfoot and the Case of the Frozen Hearts Read Online Free

yes,” said Wilma, taking care to throw in a curtsy.
    â€œDon’t look like much,” barked back Mrs. Waldock, giving her a once-over. “Scrappy thing, ain’t you? Can you lift? Can you mend? Can you jump over a five-bar gate using only one hand?”
    Wilma blinked. She wasn’t quite certain how to answer. “I’ m not sure,” she replied, scrunching her face up. “But I can touch my nose with my tongue. Look.”
    Mrs. Waldock stared at Wilma as she licked the end of her nose. It was impressive—even she had to accept that. “Well, get in then,” said Mrs. Waldock, belly shuddering as she gestured inside. “Take your things down into the cellar. Through that door. To the left. Those are your quarters. Leave your things and then come back up to the parlor. I have an errand that needs running.”
    â€œHere’s my letter of introduction,” said Wilma, holding it out as she entered. “Madam Skratch at the Institute told me to give it to you.”
    Mrs. Waldock licked the spit from her lips and snatched the letter from Wilma’s hand. Unfolding it, she read aloud:
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    Dear Barbara,
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    The child that has handed you this letter is called Wilma Tenderfoot. She is ten years old. She is of reasonable character but has a tendency to daydream and mutter. If you find her staring off into the middle distance, just shout her name once, quite loudly, and that should do the trick. Please feel free to beat her. You may have your own preferred methods of punishment, but I have always found a few thwacks with a Naughty-Boy Belt (brochure attached) to yield the best results. As for feeding her, she will do quite well on one meal a day and will be perfectly happy with scraps or leftovers.
    As you know, we offer a full thirty-day trial free of charge. If you are satisfied with Wilma (and we’re sure that you will be), then we will send you an invoice for her purchase at the conclusion of the trial period. Should Wilma not meet your requirements, please return her in a cardboard box and we’ll be happy to replace her. In the event of Wilma being killed or severely mutilated during the trial period, then we will ask you to pay the fee in full. This is merely to cover our own costs. I hope you understand .
    It just remains for me to thank you for choosing the Institute for Woeful Children and we hope you are happy with our product .
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    I remain,
    Deborah Skratch
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    â€œHumph,” slobbered Mrs. Waldock, tossing the letter onto a sideboard. “I certainly shall NOT be paying if you get yourself killed or mutilated. So make sure you don’t!”
    â€œYes, Mrs. Waldock,” replied Wilma, who didn’t have to make much of an effort to hope that THAT didn’t happen.

3
    T he inside of Howling Hall was no more welcoming than its exterior. Dark, heavy furniture brooded in corners, and patches of damp mold crawled up the walls. One weak and fizzing light did its best to cut through the gloom, but it was like throwing a pea to stop an elephant. Wilma grimaced. This place was awful.
    The cellar, which would be Wilma’s home for the foreseeable future, was covered in spiders’ webs and smelled of wet rags. Wilma sighed and threw her bundle down onto a small mattress on the floor. So this was it. It would be impossible not to say that she was experiencing something akin to bitter disappointment, but Wilma, though small, was a determined girl, and she was ready to make the best of things. As she strained to peer into her dank, dark surroundings, Wilma decided that if she cleared this bit here and tidied up those things over there, then it wouldn’t be so bad after all.
    A small snuffle sounded from a corner. Wilma froze. It is a general truth that when in gloomy, damp circumstances, the last thing you want to add to your troubles is a sudden noise from an unknown source. But having decided that the absolute worst-case scenario