Part 9 (1/2)

”I believe you have to,” she replied.

”I mean . . . I mean, I can't wait to do battle with ignorance,” he said, his face aflame. She will think I am an idiot, he told himself.

Miss Bonfort was far kinder than he deserved. She handed her wet cloak to a servant and peeked in the door where the heads had popped out. ”Come out, you two,” she said in a gruff voice he found charming. The woman knew children.

And there stood his pupils-little boys with wary eyes. With a nod of thanks, he handed his soaking boat cloak and hat to the same servant girl, who staggered under the weight of them as she retreated down the hall.

”Front and center, lads,” he said in the voice of command he had developed through years of hard service.

He knew they would obey, and they did. ”I am your tutor for the duration of this month,” he told them, something they probably already knew. ”I am Master Able Six.” He gestured. ”Beginning with the older, now. Step forward and report.”

The slightly taller boy took a step forward. His chin went up. ”Master Gerald Ripley, ten,” he said, then stepped back.

The next lad stepped forward with more a.s.surance. ”Master James Ripley, eight.” He started to step back, then gestured with both hands. ”I know you are more than six, sir.”

Able glanced at Miss Bonfort, who was laughing behind her hand, her marvelous eyes getting smaller the more she tried to suppress her mirth.

”I am twenty-six,” he replied, trying not to smile himself. ”Master James, how much more is that than six?”

”Twenty years more,” he replied promptly, then added, ”You are old.”

”I am, indeed,” Able replied, charmed by his students. ”A master at sea is a different t.i.tle than the one bestowed upon a lad. At sea, it means I am the master of the sails, their trim, the placement of ballast, and everything that keeps a s.h.i.+p afloat and moving in the right direction. I even keep the s.h.i.+p's official log.”

”Not the captain?”

”No, James. He might take notes. Mine is the official log.”

”But Six?” Gerald asked, speaking up for the first time.

”That is my surname, Gerald,” he replied, pleased the less-a.s.sured child had added his mite to the conversation. ”My name is Able Six, and you will call me Master Six.” He nodded to them. ”You may return to your posts. Tomorrow, we will begin the amazing study of mathematics.”

The brothers looked at each other then back at him, the wary looks gone. They turned to leave, executing a smart about-face that tried Miss Bonfort even more.

”One more item, men,” Able said.

They stopped and turned around just as smartly.

”Do you ever play jackstraws?”

”We like to.”

”Like to . . . ?”

”We like to, Master Six,” Gerald said promptly. ”Are we going to play jackstraws?”

”Perhaps at first. We will do something even better with them, I a.s.sure you,” Master Six replied. ”It will be life-changing. As you were, men.”

Chapter Five.

Able's introduction to his actual employers pa.s.sed off smoothly enough, conducted as it was in the vicar's study, a book-lined room that held his immediate attention for the few seconds required to examine all the t.i.tles on the spines and memorize them.

He was fast, but not fast enough for the man seated behind the desk, who rose and held out his hand.

”You like to read, sir?” Mr. Ripley asked as they shook hands. He seated himself and gestured to a chair.

”Aye, sir,” Able replied. ”I'm a fairly quick study.”

The vicar laughed and steepled his fingers together, appraising him. ”You're welcome to borrow any book you choose during your tenure here.”

Book? Able thought. He took another quick glance at the bookshelves. It's only 216 books. I'll read them all in two weeks.

Here it came. The vicar looked closer at Able. ”Provided we choose to hire you to tutor our older children.”

”Fair enough, sir,” Able replied.

The door opened, and Miss Bonfort returned with a copy of herself, one looking older and frazzled and wearing her ap.r.o.n high. He rose and bowed.

”Master Six, this is my sister, Mrs. Ripley.”

Mrs. Ripley bobbed a curtsy of her own and sat down in the chair directly beside her husband's desk. A glance at her current tonnage made him suspect she was due for confinement in a month or so.

”Master Six, pleased to make your acquaintance.” Mrs. Ripley said. ”My boys are already telling me that you will play jackstraws with them tomorrow.”

”Jackstraws?” the vicar asked as his eyebrows rose into his forehead.

”It is a wonderful way to introduce plane geometry to lads, provided you don't mind if I snap some in half and in thirds,” Able explained. He laughed. ”The jackstraws-not the lads.”

Stony stares. ”All we are asking for is addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division,” the vicar said, his voice firm and in control.

”Certainly, sir,” Able replied, knowing he needed to come about and handsomely to placate this slower mind. ”They will know those within a fortnight, which is why I propose geometry as well. Tomorrow will just whet their appet.i.te and give them something to hope for, after we survive the tedium of rote cards and memorization.”

Oh d.a.m.n, he had gone too far. Two sets of skeptical eyes bored into him. He looked at Miss Bonfort, hoping not to see the same expression. To his relief but not his surprise, he saw only lively interest on her face. Bless your imaginative heart, he thought.

”I think Master Six will work wonders with my nephews,” Miss Bonfort said.

”Yes, yes, but geometry?” the vicar sputtered. ”Who needs that?”

Able opened his mouth to reply, but another glance in Miss Bonfort's direction silenced him. The shake of her head was nearly imperceptible, but there it was. He kept his own counsel on geometry as surely as if she had jabbed him in the ribs.

Miss Bonfort continued to smile so serenely at her brother-in-law, who set about straightening the papers on his desk. He looked for all the world like a man who hated to make a decision-or one who had never seen the likes of Able Six before, which was more likely.

”Brother, he can use the work, and he comes well-recommended,” Miss Bonfort said quietly.

Fidget and fiddle a little more. The vicar gave a great, noisy sigh and capitulated. ”Very well, sir. Begin tomorrow,” he said. ”I will pay you ten s.h.i.+llings a month for December.”

”Thank you,” Able said. ”You won't be disappointed.”