The Long-Lost Home: Chapters 10–12

Others are given every advantage— doting parents, a splendid dacha in which to spend the summer months, a scholarship to the best schools in Saint Petersburg—and yet grow up to be shady brokers in stolen goods, or hotel messengers of dubious morals.

As for that other parent-to-be, Lady Constance Ashton, normally she was the sort of person whose thoughts flew out of her mouth willy-nilly whether anyone was listening or not, but on the topic of her own impending motherhood, she had said little.

While Lady Constance dutifully knitted a baby hat, one slow stitch at a time, Simon whipped together sweaters, scarves, and mittens for everyone in the household, blankets for the baby’s crib, and baby clothes galore.

Strøm stood before her, implacable as the tides.

Anything to break up the monotony of herring, salt tack, and sauerkraut at every meal.

Only once did a whale come close enough for Penelope to gaze into its unfathomable eye.

She learned to stand clear when the boom swung across the deck as the boat changed tack by angling into the wind till the leeward side of the sails became the windward side, or the other way ’round.

Breakfast and lunch she ate alone, for the men were out in the dories and Captain Strøm stayed at the helm, poring over the sea charts.

Some were doing chores on deck or in the galley, but most were down in the hold, packing the salted herring into empty barrels.

So far the float had only gone down when her line tangled in seaweed, or because a sea crab had nibbled at the bait until there was only a thread of gristle left.

The guidebook full of clues that had led him to Switzerland had been nothing but a red herring.

This was unexpected, as pheasants are usually quite docile birds, and tasty, too.

However, in this episode Rainbow falls into a funk after losing an important competition and questions the meaning of everything a pony holds dear.

Then she began to cry in earnest, for the truth was as plain as the difference between the right foot and the left, the North Pole and the South, the new moon and the full: with scarcely a week left, there was no possible way she could get back to England in time to save her beloved Incorrigibles.

It had a familiar look to it—there was the same elfin chin as Cassiopeia, the poetic mouth of Beowulf.

“Until someone invents a time machine, that is! And we are together now, which is more important. But the most important thing of all...” She paused, unsure how to broach a topic so near to her heart.

One bite, and she was ravenous.

“But Mater Lumley...Pater Lumley...” She stopped to stifle a yawn herself, for they are highly contagious, as the Lumley parents clearly knew!

“I am sure you have many questions, my long-lost girl, but late bedtimes will do none of us any good. On the other hand...” 
Pater Lumley chuckled and went to stoke the fire, for clearly they would be up a little while longer.

Pater Lumley strode to a large rock outcropping not far from the bank.

“The balloon business is booming, or ballooning, if you don’t mind the pun. It’s both profitable and full of derring-do, which makes it an entirely suitable enterprise for a brave explorer like myself. I remember you, governess! You taught those three wolf children the Ashtons keep as pets. Excellent trackers, as I recall. We all went chasing after that big bird that got loose in the woods. What a marvelous pursuit that was!”

“There’s no need to hold a grudge,” the admiral interjected.

He hoisted his trousers around his ample middle.

Some townspeople were already astir, for just as certain professions are the cause of late bedtimes (actors come to mind, and theater critics, too, alas!), other jobs demand an early start.

It was not easy, as Pater Lumley had rigged an ingenious system of knots ’round the curtain’s edge to keep it steady in all weather.