A Lady Never Tells(47)

Mary gave him a regal nod. “If my cousin asks, tell him we have gone for a walk.”

Their steps quickened as they went out the front door and down the steps to the sidewalk. They turned up the street, buoyed by the sudden rush of freedom. The day was warm, if a little gray, and there was a bit of breeze to stir the air. And while what lay about them might not be as scenic as the view of trees and winding road that they saw when they stepped out their door in Three Corners, it was filled with activity. Before they had gone one block, they had already seen two gentleman riding by on horses, a grand carriage rolling in the opposite direction, and two young women walking along at a far slower pace than the Bascombes, with a woman in a maid’s uniform trailing along behind. The two young women cast a look askance as the sisters overtook them, and Mary was sure she heard a smothered giggle behind them as they walked on.

“There are so many buildings,” Rose said, looking around her. “Everywhere you look. And so many people.”

“I know!” Lily exclaimed, almost skipping as she walked. “Isn’t it exciting?”

They reached an intersection, and a ragged young boy darted out to cross the street in front of the Bascombes, sweeping before him with a short broom. The girls regarded him in astonishment, and when he turned to them on the other side, an expectant look on his face, they gazed back at him blankly.

His face fell into a grimace. “Oi sherda known,” he muttered, and hastened back across the street to perform the same ritual in front of an elegantly clad gentleman.

“What did he say?” Rose asked in confusion.

“I have no idea. I’m not sure he was speaking English.”

The gentleman reached their side of the street and tossed the boy a small coin.

“I see! We were supposed to pay him something,” Mary surmised.

“For what?” Camellia asked. “Stirring up the dust?”

“I think he cleans the street so one’s shoes and hem don’t get dirty. I saw some of these boys the other day, but I hadn’t any idea what they were doing.”

As they walked on, Lily kept glancing back at the intersection. Halfway down the block, she stopped, saying, “Look, he didn’t do it for that man.”

The sisters all turned. A large, broad-shouldered man lumbered across the street. He wore a cap on his head and a rough jacket, with trousers that hung loosely over his battered work boots.

“The boy knows he hasn’t any money,” Rose said. “He’s a laborer of some kind, I would warrant, from the way he dresses.”

“Then I am surprised the boy swept it for us,” Mary retorted.

They continued along the street, looking around them with great interest. So fascinating was everything that they had walked for almost thirty minutes before Camellia remembered that she had not been paying close attention to where they were going. Neither, it turned out, had the other girls, and they stopped abruptly and looked around them.

“Well, at least we haven’t wandered into a terrible area,” Mary commented. “The houses are still quite nice and the streets broad.”

“Perhaps we had better retrace our steps,” Rose suggested, “before we get so far afield we cannot remember how to get back.”

Reluctantly Camellia gave in, and they started back the way they had come.

“That’s odd,” Lily commented.

“What’s odd?”

“That fellow who crossed the street after we did—the workman that the boy didn’t sweep for. He’s right there up the block.”#p#分页标题#e#

The girls all raised their heads. There, just as Lily had said, was the large man. He was walking along, looking toward them; suddenly he stopped and swung around, staring for a moment at the door of the house next to him. Just as abruptly, he hurried across the street.

“Are you sure it’s the same man?” Camellia asked.

“Of course I am. That cap, that jacket—and his hair was longish, too; I could see it hanging out beneath his cap.”

“I think she’s right,” Mary agreed.

“Isn’t it strange that he was still behind us?” Lily asked.

“You always think something sinister is going on,” Camellia pointed out. “Remember when you were certain that Mr. Johnson had killed his wife because no one saw her for a week, then it turned out she had sprained her ankle and couldn’t walk?”

“That was ages ago,” Lily sniffed. “I was only fourteen. Anyway, all I’m saying is that it’s peculiar that he was still behind us.”

“Perhaps he’s going to the same place we were,” Mary suggested.