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Chapter 8: A Walk

Scout woke up late the next day after an uneventful night. She got dressed and went downstairs to the sunny kitchen to find George giving what she believed was called, in old-fashioned parlance, a "dressing-down", to two boys, one a freckled red-head, one a dark-haired boy with chocolate brown eyes. Both looked dolefully at the floor as George told them, in no uncertain terms, how their carelessness when replacing the curtain rod in the library had nearly cost the new librarian her life.

Oh Jesus.

"You boys are so lucky that all she got was a good knock on the head. I had to have Dr. Chandler out here yesterday morning to check her over, she probably had a mild concussion. She bled, whacked her head on the sill, I'll have you know," he said to them sternly.

The two boys looked at each other in obvious agony. The redhead twisted his cap in his hands nervously.

"Oh god, Mr. Wilder, we're so sorry, we really are," said the dark-haired boy, whom Scout assumed was Sunil. "We're gormless gits, wouldn't blame you if you sacked us on the spot, we really wouldn't," he continued, looking at the equally contrite Alfred, who was nodding energetically in agreement, red hair flying.

"We'd like to apologize to her in person, like, before we go, though, if we could," Alfred said hopefully, blinking his watery blue eyes. "Is she up, or is she still bed-ridden?"

Did he actually say "bed-ridden"?

"I'm up, I'm up," Scout said, laughing, as she entered the kitchen. Jess and Bandit scampered toward her, tails wagging, and she greeted them first, before moving toward the boys. They stared with concern at the tiny band aid on her forehead as if it were a huge wound covered in a wartime bandage, eyes huge.

"You guys, I'm fine," she reassured them, giving George a look as she reached out a hand to them. George smirked at her. He'd obviously been enjoying the village boys' discomfort. She shook her head at him before turning back to the two teenagers.

"We're so sorry, Miss," Sunil said, exuding contrition and apology from every pore as he shook her hand. "Is there anything we can do to ease your discomfort, like?" he asked as he continued to hold her hand, which made Scout want to burst out laughing.

"Honestly, I feel fine," she said again, letting Sunil lead her to a chair. Alfred placed a cup of tea in front of her which was nearly undrinkable because he'd loaded it with so much sugar, but Scout did her level best because he looked so anxious as he stared at her.

"Well, we'll be off, then," Alfred said sadly, continuing to twist his cap. "It was really nice working for you, Mr. Wilder. We won't bother you for a reference or anything, not after this."

Scout put down her tea cup. "Hold on, boys!" She looked up at George. "Surely you're not going to fire them? Not for this?"

George looked back and forth between the two boys. They looked back at him, then at Scout, hopefully.

"George!" Scout said firmly. "Stop it. You don't even know if it was anything they did, for Christ's sake!" She looked at Alfred and Sunil. "You're not fired--sacked, whatever you call it over here, okay?" She nodded at them.

At their continued silence she sighed impatiently. "What were you two supposed to do today?" She looked back and forth between the two of them.

"Erm, we were supposed to clean up the front garden a bit?" Sunil looked to Alfred for confirmation. "Weed the beds, trim the shrubbery, neaten things up a bit?"

Scout took another sip of the very sweet tea, and nodded at the two appealing boys. "Okay, then, guys, the day's a wastin', as my nana used to say, you'd better get going, hm?" She swiveled her head toward the yard. "Scoot!"