Page 22 of If a Lady Lingers

“No,” Whitby answered. “Miss Daring and her father have hired workers to do that.”

The boy’s face fell, and he slumped over his desk. “Oh.”

“But you’ll be able to help with the service yard and gardens, which will need lots of attention and work once the house is finished,” Daisy interjected quickly. “And with building shelving for the basement storage rooms, the attics, perhaps even the pantry. Oh, there will be lots you can do.”

The boy gave her a happy grin that revealed two missing front teeth. “Deuces, that’ll be grand!”

“Robert,” Whitby scolded. “Young boys shouldn’t talk like that.”

“Youdo,” the boy protested in a confused half-pout. “You say ‘deuces’ all the time.”

Daisy lifted a brow and murmured low enough that only Whitby could hear, “He’s got you there.”

“I am not a young boy,” he countered, yet when he crossed his arms to punctuate that, the gesture resembled a fit of childish pique.

“No, of course not.” The mocking exaggeration sounded clearly in her voice.

“Iam a grown man who is soon to have a beautiful new house where some of you will come to live with me.” Pride flashed over his face at bringing the conversation back to the reason they were all there. “So, let’s tell Miss Daring what we would like to have in it, all right?”

The children fell silent. Not one of them dared to speak up.

Daisy smiled. “Well, you had a treat for me—such beautiful flowers! And so I’ve brought a treat for you.” She reached into her reticule to call upon her secret weapon and held up the brown paper-wrapped bundle. Holding it in sight for all of them to see, she untied the string and opened the wrapper. “Peppermints!”

That brought all twelve children bolting upright in their seats, all two dozen eyes glued to the bundle of candies.

“So…” She reached into the wrapper and held up one of the mints. “Who wants to tell me what they think should be in their dream house and earn yourself a peppermint?”

Over half a dozen arms shot high into the air. Their sudden excitement warmed through her. She gave the bag of peppermints to Whitby to hand out while she wrote their suggestions in her notebook.

“What color would you like your bedroom to be?” she asked and was inundated by a rainbow of colors. “Would you like shelves to put your belongings on or in chests of drawers?”

Each time a child answered, Whitby raced through the rows of desks to give each one a peppermint in reward. She smiled at him over the children’s heads. His face lit up as he momentarily held her gaze before darting off again to deliver more candy.

“What kind of furniture would you like to have in the parlor?”

More answers…some good, some rushed out only to gain a piece of candy. But she nodded to each one no matter how unrealistic the child’s suggestion to encourage their participation.

“What color should the dining room be?”

Hands eagerly shot into the air, although some of them didn’t wait to be called upon before blurting out their choices.

But one of the girls didn’t join in. She sat in her desk in the middle of the room, slumped low in her seat with her arms folded over her chest and her big eyes downcast. Instead of being excited to earn a peppermint, she looked as if she were on the verge of tears.

Daisy gestured for the others to be quiet for a moment and approached the girl. She knelt beside her desk and waited for her to flick a glance at her. When she did, Daisy smiled.

“I’m Daisy,” she told her. “What’s your name?”

“Martha.”

“My, what a pretty name!”

The girl’s lips twitched as if wanting to smile but not finding the conviction. Her glum expression immediately screwed itself back into place.

“What’s wrong, Martha?”

Her bottom lip quivered. “I can’t earn any peppermints!”

Daisy gestured for Whitby to stay back as he rushed forward to offer Martha a piece of candy from his rapidly depleting bag. “Why not? All you have to do is tell me what you think about the house.”