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“My lap will be vertical, I’m afraid,” said Georgie. “Is it even a lap, if it’s vertical?”

Matilda turned to Elf. “I want to ride in the carriage. And sit on Miss Georgie’s lap.”

Elf bent down, still smiling, and tapped Matilda’s nose with a fingertip. “Next time.”

“This time.”

“This time we’re walking.”

“I hate walking.”

“You love walking.” Elf’s smile began to fray. “Yesterday you would have walked to the moon.”

Matilda crossed her arms. “Today I want to ride in the carriage.”

“I’m hungry,” Hilda complained from her seat on the valise. “I am ravenous.”

Elf gazed longingly at the postillion. He’d realized something was amiss with their party and was taking payment from another.

“Look there.” Georgie pointed. “That’s the high street.”

The twins looked.

“There’s a bun-house on the high street,” said Georgie. “The buns are hot and buttery and scrumptious, but no one riding in a carriage is allowed to buy them. The buns are only for walkers.”

“Why?” asked Matilda.

“It’s a rule,” said Georgie. “Set by the bakers guild.”

“I want a bun!” Hilda stood up.

“To the bun-house, then.” Georgie grabbed the handle of their valise and twirled as they lifted it, feeling light-heeled with self-congratulation. Which was a good thing, because it was easily six miles to Twynham.

The twins went skipping for the high street. Georgie followed. Elf struggled along beside them, looking less than pleased.

“We can switch,” they offered, extending their valise. “I didn’t pack any books.”

“It’s not heavy.” She gripped her portmanteau with both hands, her grunt belying her words.

Georgie didn’t insist. “How many buns should we buy? I say a half dozen. We bribe them with one per mile, split between them.”

“We shouldn’t buy any,” said Elf. “We’ve too little money.”

“Too little money for the post chaise.” Georgie’s heels came to earth. “Plenty of money for buns.”

“The post chaise is what we need, though.”

“Yes, but we can’t afford it. Whether or not we buy buns.”

This was inarguably correct, but Elf’s jaw exhibited a stubborn tightness. “If we buy the buns, we’re further from affording it.”

“If we don’t buy the buns, we’re not driving or walking. Or do you have another incentive? Do you think you can bribe them with buttons?”

“I can reason with them.” Elf was breathing hard. “And save the shilling. It might come in more use later.”

“That attitude is why coins turn up in graves.”

Elf frowned. “No, it’s not.”