Oscar lasted exactly four minutes before he interjected.
“The badger is misusing the term ‘parliamentary procedure,’” he said, lips twitching.
“It’s a metaphor, Oscar,” Nancy replied. “One must allow for dramatic license.”
“The fox’s math is also incorrect,” Oscar added, eyes narrowing.
“That is the point,” Nancy shot back. “If the fox did proper math, he wouldn’t be in half as much trouble.”
Clara, emboldened, took up the cause. “You are not supposed to argue with the story, Your Grace.”
Oscar stared at her. “You are five years old.”
“You are a hundred,” Clara replied, “and still you do not listen.”
Henry giggled so hard he nearly toppled the blanket fort. Nancy had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from cackling.
Oscar shifted, then said, “If you must continue, at least allow me to read. I will correct the factual errors as we go.”
Nancy, not about to miss such an opportunity, passed him the book. “By all means, enlighten us.”
Oscar accepted it as if he were being handed the Treaty of Ghent.
He opened to the page, cleared his throat, and read:
“‘The hedgehog, valiantly resisting the temptations of sloth, deployed his abacus with an efficiency that put the village magistrate to shame.’”
Oscar paused, scanned the page, and looked up. “There is no mention of the abacus in the previous section. This is a narrative inconsistency.”
Henry blinked. “What’s an abacus?”
“A counting device. Ancient, but effective,” Oscar said.
Clara frowned. “We have never seen one.”
Nancy leaned in. “Perhaps the hedgehog borrowed it from the Duke. He has so many, you see.”
Oscar ignored her, resumed reading, and did so in a voice so flat and devoid of inflection that it seemed to suck the air from the room.
“‘And then, having completed his calculations, the hedgehog set out to…’” He glanced at Nancy. “This is preposterous. A hedgehog would not travel this far in a single day.”
Nancy, delighted, said, “You’re losing the audience, Oscar. Try to make it more… engaging.”
“I am not a nursemaid,” Oscar replied.
“You are our uncle,” Clara reminded him.
He bristled. “Yes. I am aware.”
“Then you must read like one,” Clara insisted.
Oscar closed the book with a finality that brooked no debate. “I have pressing business.”
And, in a movement so abrupt that even the badger would have been impressed, he rose, straightened his coat, and strode from the room.
The silence left in his wake was almost a physical force.
Henry watched the door, eyes huge. “Is he angry?”
