Read Online The Dragon in the Cliff by Sheila Cole - Free Book Online Page A

in large checkered apron and white mob-cap. Then she slammed the door in my face.
    I waited for several more minutes before she returned to say that Mrs. Wiggins would see me. She led me through the scullery and the kitchen into a small room with a pine table, one chair, several leather-bound account books, and a number of locked cupboards, and left me to wait there. Soon I heard a heavy tread in the hall and Mrs. Wiggins, an enormous woman dressed all in black except for a white cap, was upon me.
    â€œYou have come to see about running errands?” she asked in a booming voice as she looked down on me from her towering height.
    I opened my mouth to answer. I moved my lips. But no sound issued. I nodded my head instead.
    â€œDon’t wave your head at me,” she bellowed. “Answer ‘yes, ma’am,’ or ‘no, ma’am.’”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” I whispered.
    â€œSpeak up! You are Anning, the cabinetmaker’s child?”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” I repeated.
    â€œThe one who sells curiosities?”
    My chin hurt because Mama had tied my bonnet too tightly, but I was too frightened to raise my hands to loosen the strings. “Yes, ma’am,” I answered.
    â€œI hear that you go down to the beach to look for them.”
    â€œYes, ma’am. I sell the curiosities now that my father is dead.”
    She snorted at this. “And your mother permits you to wander around the beach by yourself, unchaperoned?”
    I did not reply. “Answer me,” she demanded, but she went on before I could. “Does she not know that there are smugglers there? Brigands? And still she allows a girl to go there. But then your family does not attend St. Michael’s, does it, girl?”
    â€œNo, ma’am,” I said. “We go to chapel.”
    â€œA Dissenter? No, you will not do,” she said. “I cannot vouch for the morals of a girl who has been allowed to run free like you. We are respectable people here.” And with that she dismissed me.
    I ran all the way down Broad Street, past the proud, tall-windowed houses, through the throngs crowding the marketplace and shambles, and onto to the safety of Bridge Street in a confusion of feeling. I had escaped from Mrs. Wiggins, but her rejection still left me in need of work. I did not tell Mama why Mrs. Wiggins did not hire me. Mrs. Wiggins’s disapproval of my fossil hunting would have caused her great anguish. Instead, I muttered something about there being a mistake. And Mama, who was vague about everything those days, did not inquire further. “Something will turn up soon,” she said, and turned back to the window.
    Not knowing what else to do, I continued to go to the beach in search of curiosities. One day, not long afterward, as I was returning from the beach, I saw Dr. Carpenter leaving our house. Fearing the worst, I ran into the shop, and up the stairs, calling, “Mama! Mama!” I pulled the door open and stopped. Mama was not in her customary place by the window. She was kneeling by the sideboard. On the long table were dishes, salvers, mugs—the contents of the sideboard.
    â€œI’ve sold the sideboard to Dr. Carpenter,” Mama explained. “He is giving me a good sum for it. Now you needn’t go into service, and I needn’t give up our house and go to live with Mr. Hunnicutt. We can stay here together … for a little while longer.”
    I ran to her and threw my arms around her neck. “Oh, Mama,” I said over and over, unable to say anything else.
    â€œIt is just a thing, a piece of furniture,” Mama said, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.
    But I knew that the sideboard was not just another thing. It had always meant a great deal to her. Papa made it to become a master cabinetmaker. It was the one fine thing in our house, the one thing that showed Papa’s true craftsmanship. It had a bowed front with inlaid rosewood