brushed, her hair brushed too, glossy with
cleanliness, ‘and a look on her face like the devil himself,’ said Peters, who, when he had handed her over, went and stared out of the window, rubbing his eyes with the back of his
hand. ‘Fool that I am,’ said Peters.
Mr Blount led Kizzy over that long floor to the table. ‘Gracious!’ said Mrs Cuthbert. ‘I hadn’t realized how small she is, almost undersized.’
‘Not,’ said Kizzy through her teeth.
‘Mrs Cuthbert, once again, will you kindly keep quiet?’ and the Chairman leaned forward to Kizzy. ‘Kizzy you know some of us, Doctor Harwell, Mr Blount – and Mrs
Cuthbert.’ At that name, the black look grew blacker. ‘But we are all here to try and help you.’
No response, only a glower from under the curls.
‘Now will you tell us, Kizzy, if there is anyone anywhere with whom you would like to live?’
The reply was blunt. ‘What’s the use my tellin’ when you won’t let me?’
‘How do you know? Let’s try.’ The Chairman was encouraging. ‘Isn’t there anyone?’
‘Meself.’ An involuntary smile went round. Kizzy saw it and scowled.
‘Yourself? But, Kizzy, little girls of seven – I believe you are seven – can’t live quite by themselves.’
‘See?’ said Kizzy with scorn. ‘I knew that’s what you’d say.’ She became aware that Mr Blount was holding her hand and, ‘Let go of me,’ she
screamed violently to Mr Blount, wrenching her hand away. ‘Lemme go. ’ The child shriek rose to the windows as Kizzy tried for the door, but the Usher was blocking the way and Mr
Blount caught her. Kizzy was brought back to the table, her breath coming in gasps. Leaning on the sill in the corridor, Peters put his hands over his ears and shut his eyes.
‘All right, Mr Blount.’ The Chairman waved Mr Blount away. ‘Now Kizzy, stand still and look at me.’
‘Look at the gentleman when he tells you!’
‘ Mrs Cuthbert! ’ The Chairman’s voice was sharp, and he ordered, ‘No one is to speak to the child except us, the magistrates.’ Then he turned to Kizzy and
said gently, ‘Mr Blount will not hold you, no one will touch you if you talk to us properly, so let’s be sensible,’ and Kizzy stood quietly though she held the edge of the table
and her breath still came in gasps. ‘Now listen to me, Kizzy,’ said the Chairman. ‘I’m afraid we can’t allow you to live by yourself and, though I’m sure Admiral
Twiss will always be your friend, we can’t let you stay at Amberhurst House – for several reasons. This means we must find another home for you, doesn’t it?’
No answer but the glowering, the small gasps.
‘Doesn’t it?’
Still no answer.
‘You try,’ the Chairman said to the woman magistrate on his right who, in her turn, leaned forward.
‘Kizzy.’
Kizzy had obediently looked at the Chairman – in any other circumstances she would have liked him – but she was wary of ladies and though she had realized there were two others in
the room besides Mrs Cuthbert, a large lady and a small one, had kept her eyes away from them. Now it was the large one who was speaking in a soft coaxing voice: ‘Kizzy wouldn’t you
like to go where there are other girls and boys?’
No answer but an increased glowering, deeper gasps.
‘You would have someone to play with,’ coaxed the magistrate, ‘as if you had brothers and sisters. Wouldn’t it be nice, Kizzy, to have a sister?’
It was unfortunate she said ‘sister’. A look of desperation came into Kizzy’s eyes – as if she were trapped, thought Miss Brooke. Then Kizzy spat. The spit landed plop on
the table and there was a silence as all of them stared at the little wet insult and Kizzy ran, this time succeeding in dodging the Usher. Peters caught her outside the door.
‘Well!’ The kind magistrate was nonplussed, as were they all – the Court was not used to defiance from a seven-year-old. ‘Oh dear, I’m afraid I precipitated
cleanliness, ‘and a look on her face like the devil himself,’ said Peters, who, when he had handed her over, went and stared out of the window, rubbing his eyes with the back of his
hand. ‘Fool that I am,’ said Peters.
Mr Blount led Kizzy over that long floor to the table. ‘Gracious!’ said Mrs Cuthbert. ‘I hadn’t realized how small she is, almost undersized.’
‘Not,’ said Kizzy through her teeth.
‘Mrs Cuthbert, once again, will you kindly keep quiet?’ and the Chairman leaned forward to Kizzy. ‘Kizzy you know some of us, Doctor Harwell, Mr Blount – and Mrs
Cuthbert.’ At that name, the black look grew blacker. ‘But we are all here to try and help you.’
No response, only a glower from under the curls.
‘Now will you tell us, Kizzy, if there is anyone anywhere with whom you would like to live?’
The reply was blunt. ‘What’s the use my tellin’ when you won’t let me?’
‘How do you know? Let’s try.’ The Chairman was encouraging. ‘Isn’t there anyone?’
‘Meself.’ An involuntary smile went round. Kizzy saw it and scowled.
‘Yourself? But, Kizzy, little girls of seven – I believe you are seven – can’t live quite by themselves.’
‘See?’ said Kizzy with scorn. ‘I knew that’s what you’d say.’ She became aware that Mr Blount was holding her hand and, ‘Let go of me,’ she
screamed violently to Mr Blount, wrenching her hand away. ‘Lemme go. ’ The child shriek rose to the windows as Kizzy tried for the door, but the Usher was blocking the way and Mr
Blount caught her. Kizzy was brought back to the table, her breath coming in gasps. Leaning on the sill in the corridor, Peters put his hands over his ears and shut his eyes.
‘All right, Mr Blount.’ The Chairman waved Mr Blount away. ‘Now Kizzy, stand still and look at me.’
‘Look at the gentleman when he tells you!’
‘ Mrs Cuthbert! ’ The Chairman’s voice was sharp, and he ordered, ‘No one is to speak to the child except us, the magistrates.’ Then he turned to Kizzy and
said gently, ‘Mr Blount will not hold you, no one will touch you if you talk to us properly, so let’s be sensible,’ and Kizzy stood quietly though she held the edge of the table
and her breath still came in gasps. ‘Now listen to me, Kizzy,’ said the Chairman. ‘I’m afraid we can’t allow you to live by yourself and, though I’m sure Admiral
Twiss will always be your friend, we can’t let you stay at Amberhurst House – for several reasons. This means we must find another home for you, doesn’t it?’
No answer but the glowering, the small gasps.
‘Doesn’t it?’
Still no answer.
‘You try,’ the Chairman said to the woman magistrate on his right who, in her turn, leaned forward.
‘Kizzy.’
Kizzy had obediently looked at the Chairman – in any other circumstances she would have liked him – but she was wary of ladies and though she had realized there were two others in
the room besides Mrs Cuthbert, a large lady and a small one, had kept her eyes away from them. Now it was the large one who was speaking in a soft coaxing voice: ‘Kizzy wouldn’t you
like to go where there are other girls and boys?’
No answer but an increased glowering, deeper gasps.
‘You would have someone to play with,’ coaxed the magistrate, ‘as if you had brothers and sisters. Wouldn’t it be nice, Kizzy, to have a sister?’
It was unfortunate she said ‘sister’. A look of desperation came into Kizzy’s eyes – as if she were trapped, thought Miss Brooke. Then Kizzy spat. The spit landed plop on
the table and there was a silence as all of them stared at the little wet insult and Kizzy ran, this time succeeding in dodging the Usher. Peters caught her outside the door.
‘Well!’ The kind magistrate was nonplussed, as were they all – the Court was not used to defiance from a seven-year-old. ‘Oh dear, I’m afraid I precipitated
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