The Interrupted Tale: Chapters 11–12

“A Swanburne girl may borrow with permission, and quote with attribution, but she absolutely, positively does not steal.”

The literary-minded among you may have already guessed that this dismal tale must have been Les Misérables, by Mr. Victor Hugo.

As for dishonest Pierre, with those telltale crumbs down the front of his chemise: One would think his grim fate would be enough to put anyone off stealing, but alas, Pierre et la Baguette was written in French, and little Penelope could scarcely understand a word.

Simon, I have no doubt that you are an excellent thief, and a dreadful knave, and a rascally rogue as well.

But you would be far too conspicuous in an all-girls’ school.

He tugged at that poetic forelock and frowned.

Yet if our plan to visibilize the cannibal book succeeds, I may soon know the true cause of his affliction.

She had meant to take an hour’s catnap and be up well before her pupils, but the Incorrigibles had risen much earlier than usual, as children are apt to do on any long-awaited holiday.

Only the quick rise of one delicate eyebrow, which then floated back down slowly, like a downy feather caught in the breeze, revealed her surprise at seeing them.

Miss Mortimer picked up her spoon and stirred her tea with exquisite slowness.

But I must warn you: After what happened yesterday, Judge Quinzy will not be pleased to see you at the podium.

Soon she was clean and dressed in an everyday frock she had worn countless times before.

Before long, even the solemn Swanburne girls began to talk and giggle among themselves, with nearly the same freedom and merriment Penelope recalled from her own days at school.

“Attention, treasure hunters! You have your instructions. Find as many items as you can, and be back in the dining hall at precisely eight o’clock, one hour from now. The winning team shall receive a valuable prize. Ready? On my mark...get set—and go. The treasure hunt is on!” she added as an afterthought, but the girls were already off.

It simply means that the baron had the look of someone who had been bullied and scolded a great deal, and who felt perpetually nervous and ashamed as a result.)

The ingredients for the visibilizer had to be delivered, and the sooner the better, but the baroness clearly intended to monopolize the rest of her morning.

The yowling that seemed to emanate from Agatha Swanburne’s portrait joined in the singing, too.

Luckily, the welcoming committee of Swanburne girls was prepared for all the happy tears being shed, and handed each arriving visitor the gift of a commemorative handkerchief.

Penelope spotted some old schoolmates of her own among the throng, but she could not stop to exchange greetings now, not with the children unaccounted for.

Oh, he was making the most indecent noises! Whimpering and barking and growling.

Now Fredrick is indisposed with what he calls a headache, but I am quite certain it is something worse.

Classes had not been held in those rooms for many a year, but they still contained some antiquated laboratory equipment—enough to do some mixing and simmering, at least.

I am utterly worn out from it.

“Salty, briny, fishy...I think I have it,” he said after a moment.

Her furrowed-brow, thinking-hard expression looked not unlike Penelope’s, although Penelope had no way of knowing that, as she was not the sort of person who spent her idle hours staring into mirrors.