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Authors: Lie By Moonlight
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To Concordia’s amazement, the farmer’s cart eventually passed through the heavy iron gates at the back
of one of the big houses and rumbled to a halt in a stone-paved yard.
The canvas was whipped off the back of the cart. Ambrose, wearing a farmer’s hat and rough clothing,
looked down from the driver’s box.
“Welcome to your new lodgings, ladies.” He tossed the reins to a tall, lanky middle-aged man dressed in
a gardener’s attire. “This is Mr. Oates. Oates, allow me to introduce Miss Glade and her four students,
Phoebe, Hannah, Theodora and Edwina. They will be staying with us for a while.”
“Ladies.” Oates touched his cap.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Oates,” Concordia said.
The girls acknowledged him cheerfully.
Oates looked oddly pleased and somewhat embarrassed by the polite greetings. He mumbled something
unintelligible and turned red.
Two large, sleek dogs with sharply pointed ears and well-defined heads bounded forward and stopped
directly in front of the small crowd. Their cold, intelligent gaze stirred the hair on the back of Concordia’s
neck. The animals reminded her of the portrait of a jackal-headed Egyptian god she had once seen in a
museum.
“Meet Dante and Beatrice,” Ambrose said.
Concordia eyed the dogs uneasily. “Will they bite?”
Ambrose’s smile was not unlike that of the dogs. “Of course. What’s the point of having guard dogs that
will not rip the throats of uninvited guests? But do not be alarmed. Now that you and the girls have been
properly introduced, you are quite safe.”
“You’re certain of that?”
His smile widened. “Absolutely positive, Miss Glade.”
“I say, this was great fun.” Phoebe jumped down from the cart without waiting for assistance from one
of the men and rubbed the place behind Dante’s pricked ears. “I very much enjoyed wearing these
trousers. Much more comfortable than the skirts we sewed together.” She looked hopefully at
Concordia. “May I keep them, Miss Glade?”
“I don’t see why not,” Concordia said. She relaxed when she saw that the dog appeared to be enjoying
Phoebe’s attention. “They are quite practical in some ways.”
Beatrice trotted toward her and thrust her long nose into her hand. Concordia gingerly patted her.
“I want to keep my boy’s clothes, too.” Hannah stood up in the back of the cart, hooked her fingers into
the waistband of her trousers and struck a jaunty pose. In the blink of an eye she metamorphosed into a
youth who would not have looked out of place selling newspapers on a busy street corner. “They are
ever so much more comfortable than skirts and petticoats. I feel like a different person in them.”
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Edwina looked down at her own rough costume and wrinkled her nose. “They may be comfortable but
they certainly are not very fashionable.”
“It was rather fun masquerading as a boy, though,” Theodora said, allowing Oates to help her down
from the cart. “Did you see the way people got out of our path in the shopping arcade?”
“I think that is because they were afraid we might try to pick their pockets,” Hannah said wryly.
Ambrose looked amused. “You are correct, Hannah, and that is a tribute to your acting skills. I was
very impressed.” He vaulted easily to the ground and surprised Concordia with a brief, wicked smile.
“And that includes you, Miss Glade. I have never seen a more convincing flower seller.”
“He’s right, Miss Glade,” Phoebe said. “You look ever so much older in those poor clothes.”
Concordia sighed and unknotted the tattered scarf she had used to cover her hair. “Thank you,
Phoebe.”
“How in blazes did ye come by this old cart and that broken-down nag?” Oates muttered to Ambrose.
“A helpful farmer loaned them to me.”
Oates looked skeptical. “Loaned them, eh?”
“No need
To Concordia’s amazement, the farmer’s cart eventually passed through the heavy iron gates at the back
of one of the big houses and rumbled to a halt in a stone-paved yard.
The canvas was whipped off the back of the cart. Ambrose, wearing a farmer’s hat and rough clothing,
looked down from the driver’s box.
“Welcome to your new lodgings, ladies.” He tossed the reins to a tall, lanky middle-aged man dressed in
a gardener’s attire. “This is Mr. Oates. Oates, allow me to introduce Miss Glade and her four students,
Phoebe, Hannah, Theodora and Edwina. They will be staying with us for a while.”
“Ladies.” Oates touched his cap.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Oates,” Concordia said.
The girls acknowledged him cheerfully.
Oates looked oddly pleased and somewhat embarrassed by the polite greetings. He mumbled something
unintelligible and turned red.
Two large, sleek dogs with sharply pointed ears and well-defined heads bounded forward and stopped
directly in front of the small crowd. Their cold, intelligent gaze stirred the hair on the back of Concordia’s
neck. The animals reminded her of the portrait of a jackal-headed Egyptian god she had once seen in a
museum.
“Meet Dante and Beatrice,” Ambrose said.
Concordia eyed the dogs uneasily. “Will they bite?”
Ambrose’s smile was not unlike that of the dogs. “Of course. What’s the point of having guard dogs that
will not rip the throats of uninvited guests? But do not be alarmed. Now that you and the girls have been
properly introduced, you are quite safe.”
“You’re certain of that?”
His smile widened. “Absolutely positive, Miss Glade.”
“I say, this was great fun.” Phoebe jumped down from the cart without waiting for assistance from one
of the men and rubbed the place behind Dante’s pricked ears. “I very much enjoyed wearing these
trousers. Much more comfortable than the skirts we sewed together.” She looked hopefully at
Concordia. “May I keep them, Miss Glade?”
“I don’t see why not,” Concordia said. She relaxed when she saw that the dog appeared to be enjoying
Phoebe’s attention. “They are quite practical in some ways.”
Beatrice trotted toward her and thrust her long nose into her hand. Concordia gingerly patted her.
“I want to keep my boy’s clothes, too.” Hannah stood up in the back of the cart, hooked her fingers into
the waistband of her trousers and struck a jaunty pose. In the blink of an eye she metamorphosed into a
youth who would not have looked out of place selling newspapers on a busy street corner. “They are
ever so much more comfortable than skirts and petticoats. I feel like a different person in them.”
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Edwina looked down at her own rough costume and wrinkled her nose. “They may be comfortable but
they certainly are not very fashionable.”
“It was rather fun masquerading as a boy, though,” Theodora said, allowing Oates to help her down
from the cart. “Did you see the way people got out of our path in the shopping arcade?”
“I think that is because they were afraid we might try to pick their pockets,” Hannah said wryly.
Ambrose looked amused. “You are correct, Hannah, and that is a tribute to your acting skills. I was
very impressed.” He vaulted easily to the ground and surprised Concordia with a brief, wicked smile.
“And that includes you, Miss Glade. I have never seen a more convincing flower seller.”
“He’s right, Miss Glade,” Phoebe said. “You look ever so much older in those poor clothes.”
Concordia sighed and unknotted the tattered scarf she had used to cover her hair. “Thank you,
Phoebe.”
“How in blazes did ye come by this old cart and that broken-down nag?” Oates muttered to Ambrose.
“A helpful farmer loaned them to me.”
Oates looked skeptical. “Loaned them, eh?”
“No need
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