Leprechaun in Late Winter

by Mary Pope Osborne

  “The Big House!” said Annie.

  “Maybe the people who live there will invite us inside to get warm and dry by a fire,” said Jack.

  Jack and Annie started down the lane. As they passed the sheep meadows, black-and-white dogs barked at them. When they walked by several boys hauling wet hay, the workers looked up and eyed them suspiciously.

  Jack was relieved to get to the gate and head toward the Big House. When they reached the front door, Annie lifted the heavy knocker and let it drop.

  A moment later, the door opened. A pale teenage girl looked out. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

  “Uh … well …,” started Jack.

  “Are you the ones the butler sent for?” the girl asked.

  “The butler?” said Jack.

  “Yes, we are!” said Annie.

  “Then you should go round to the back!” the girl said. Before Jack or Annie could ask for Augusta, the girl slammed the door in their faces.

  “Nice,” said Jack.

  “I hope she wasn’t Augusta,” said Annie.

  “Why did you tell her ‘yes’?” asked Jack.

  “It’s a way to get inside the Big House,” said Annie. “Come on.”

  Jack and Annie tramped through the mud to the back of the mansion. They stopped at a door beneath a large smoking chimney. Annie knocked again.

  This time a young red-haired girl in a cap and apron opened the door. “Yes?” she said.

  “Is your name—” started Annie.

  “Who is it, Molly?” someone called from inside.

  Molly? So she’s not Augusta, thought Jack.

  “Who are you?” Molly asked them.

  “We’re the ones the butler sent for,” said Annie.

  “You?” said Molly. She looked doubtful. “Well, come in and see him then.”

  Jack and Annie stepped inside.

  “He’s in the kitchen,” said Molly. She started down the hall.

  Jack and Annie followed Molly to the doorway of a dimly lit kitchen. The kitchen smelled of fish and onions. Pots and pans hung from a long rack over a big wooden table. A stout older woman was bent over the table, rolling out dough.

  “Cook, here are the ones the butler sent for,” said Molly.

  The cook looked up from her dough and squinted at Jack and Annie. “You’re the ones he sent for?” she said.

  “Uh, yes, ma’am, that’s us,” said Annie.

  The cook turned toward the fireplace. Next to the fire an ancient-looking man with white whiskers sat slumped in a chair, snoring. “Mr. O’Leary!”

  The old man jerked and opened his eyes.

  “The ones you sent for are here!” the cook shouted, as if the man were hard of hearing.

  The groggy butler peered at Jack and Annie. “I sent for you?” he growled. “Not possible! I sent for a coach driver and a blacksmith.”

  “Really?” said Annie. “I guess there was a mistake. But maybe there are some other jobs we could do around here.”

  “Well, what are you good for?” asked the butler.

  “What do you mean?” said Jack.

  “Do you know how to sweep the inside of a chimney?” said the old man.

  “Um … no,” said Jack.

  “Pluck a chicken?” the cook asked.

  “No way,” said Annie.

  “What about rats?” the butler said.

  “What about them?” asked Jack.

  “They’re all over the cellar,” said the cook. “Can you catch ’em?”

  “I—I don’t think so,” said Jack.

  “Then you’re no good to us here!” snorted the butler. “Be on your way!”

  At that moment, Jack heard the back door open and shut. A girl about Jack’s age stepped into the kitchen. She wore a red cape and carried two large, empty baskets. Her wet hair was parted neatly down the middle and pulled into a tight bun in the back.

  “Ah!” said the cook. “Welcome back, Miss Augusta!”

  Jack and Annie looked at each other. Augusta!

  The girl put down her baskets and took off her wet cape.

  “Did you deliver your cakes to the poor, Miss Augusta?” asked Molly.

  “Yes, Molly,” said Augusta. “I visited seven cottages today.”

  “Seven? In this weather? You’re an angel, Miss Augusta!” said Molly. “Always so kind to the poor.”

  “It is my duty, Molly,” the girl said, “to help those less fortunate than myself.” Her gaze rested on Jack and Annie. “And who are these poor children?”

  “They’re looking for work, miss,” said the cook. “But I’m afraid they’re sorry creatures, not good for anything. I was just sending them away.”

  “Oh, surely we must not turn them out so quickly, Cook,” said Augusta. “How tired and miserable they look.”

  Jack didn’t think they looked that bad.

  “We are tired and miserable,” Annie said. Her voice sounded sad. Her shoulders sagged.

  Oh, brother, Jack thought. Annie was really acting her part.

  “My poor dears, you must both come into the parlor and rest a bit,” said Augusta.

  “We would like that,” Annie said pitifully.

  “Follow me,” said Augusta.

  “Miss Augusta, surely you’re not taking those dirty children into the parlor!” said the cook.

  “We must always be kind to the poor, Cook, no matter how dirty they are,” said Augusta. “We should give them something to drink if they are thirsty, and something to eat if they are hungry.”

  “You are too kind, Miss Augusta,” said Molly, shaking her head.

  “Well, at least make them take off their filthy boots,” said the cook.

  Jack and Annie pulled off their boots and socks and set them by the door. Their feet were red and raw-looking.

  Augusta took two peeled potatoes from a bowl and put them in her pocket. Then she picked up a lit candle from the hearth. “Come, let me take you to the parlor,” she said to Jack and Annie.

  “Thanks, Augusta,” said Annie.

  “Show some respect!” the cook called after Annie. “Call her ‘Miss Augusta’!”

  “Sorry!” said Annie. “Thanks, Miss Augusta.”

  Jack rolled his eyes. Why should he call her ‘miss’? Augusta didn’t look like she was any older than he was!

  Holding her flickering candle, Augusta led Jack and Annie out of the kitchen. The wooden floor creaked as they walked barefoot through a narrow hallway.

  How are we ever going to inspire this strange, serious girl? wondered Jack. She acts as if she’s already a grown-up and treats Annie and me like babies.

  “We’ll sit in here, children,” said Augusta. She directed Jack and Annie into a large room with heavy curtains and dark furniture. The pale teenage girl who’d answered the front door sat on a sofa, knitting. Another teenage girl knitted beside her. They scowled when they saw Jack and Annie.

  “What are you doing, Augusta?” asked the pale girl. “Why are you bringing those two into the parlor?”

  “I invited them to tea, Gertrude,” said Augusta. She turned to Jack and Annie. “Pay no attention to my sisters,” she said. “Please, sit down.”

  “Augusta, have you gone mad?” said Gertrude. “You cannot invite these two ragamuffins to sit in here!”

  “Mother will be furious,” said Augusta’s other sister. “They’re filthy! They’re not even wearing shoes!”

  Jack looked down at his muddy clothes and cold red feet.

  “Cook made them remove their muddy shoes in the kitchen, Eliza,” Augusta said. “I only wish I had nice, dry shoes to give them. Sit down, children,” she said to Jack and Annie again.

  Jack and Annie slowly sat down.

  “You’re going to get into trouble, Augusta …,” said Gertrude.

  “Mother will never approve,” said Eliza. Both sisters shook their heads as they went back to their knitting.

  Augusta ignored her sisters and walked to a silver teapot on a sideboard. “
Would you like some hot tea, my poor dears?” she asked Jack and Annie.

  “Yes, Miss Augusta,” said Annie.

  Jack nodded. Hot tea sounded good. He still felt chilled from the cold wind and rain. There was a fireplace in the dreary parlor, but no fire was lit. Everything in the room seemed dark and gloomy, except for a few books on a table.

  As Augusta poured tea into fancy china cups, Jack leaned closer to get a look at the books. One was titled The Plays of William Shakespeare. Another was called The Tales of King Arthur. Jack smiled to himself. Seeing those book titles made him feel a little more comfortable.

  Augusta carried cups of tea to Jack and Annie. Then she pulled the potatoes out of her pocket and gave one to each of them.

  “Thank you, Miss Augusta,” said Annie.

  Jack took a sip of tea, but it was too bitter and hot to drink. He took a bite of his cold potato, but it was too hard to chew.

  “So, Miss Augusta, what do you like to do around here?” Annie asked. “What inspires you?”

  Augusta looked puzzled. “I do not know what you mean,” she said.

  “What about reading books?” said Jack. “Have you read those books?” He pointed to The Tales of King Arthur and The Plays of William Shakespeare.

  “Those books belong to my brothers,” said Augusta.

  “The time has not come for Augusta to read such books,” said her sister Gertrude.

  “Not until she is older,” said her sister Eliza.

  “Why?” asked Jack.

  “Mother says The Tales of King Arthur and the plays of Shakespeare are not for young ladies,” said Augusta.

  “Really?” said Jack.

  “Yes. But I’m afraid I sometimes peek at my brothers’ books,” Augusta said to Jack and Annie in a low voice. “I love stories. I remember every story I read or hear.”

  “I love stories, too,” said Annie. “And I love books.”

  The two older sisters smiled. “Keep striving, my dear,” said Eliza. “Perhaps one day you will learn to read.”

  “I already know how to read,” said Annie. “Jack and I read lots of books.” She pointed to the books on the table. “In fact, we know tons about King Arthur, and we go see plays by Shakespeare with our parents. And one time, we even acted in a play by Shakespeare—A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

  “It was at our school,” Jack broke in, before Annie could tell them that she and Jack had actually met Shakespeare himself!

  “A Midsummer Night’s Dream?” said Augusta. She looked surprised.

  “Don’t listen to them, Augusta,” said Gertrude. “I doubt these children have ever been to school—much less acted in a play by William Shakespeare.”

  “I suspect you are quite right, Gertrude,” someone said.

  A tall woman was standing in the doorway of the parlor. She wore a long black velvet dress and stood very straight. There was an icy look on her face as she stared at Jack and Annie.

  “Oh! Mother!” said Eliza.

  “Hi there!” Annie said cheerfully.

  Augusta’s mother did not reply. She was staring at Jack’s bare feet. Her expression made him sink down in his chair.

  “Do not blame Eliza or me, Mother,” said Gertrude. “These are Augusta’s friends, not ours.”

  “I took pity on them, Mother,” said Augusta. “They were wet and miserable.”

  Her mother finally smiled. “Yes, daughter, I imagine they were. It’s very nice to have pity for the poor, but dirty children should not be sitting in our parlor.”

  “They were hungry, Mother,” said Augusta.

  “Yes, and I see you have given them food,” said her mother. “So it is time to take them out of the house now.”

  Jack and Annie stood up. Jack was happy to leave. He felt like Augusta and her mother were talking about stray dogs or cats.

  But Augusta sat very still and just stared at her mother.

  “Go on—get them out of here, Augusta,” said Gertrude. “They are not clean! They might even have bugs in their hair.”

  The mere mention of bugs made Jack’s scalp itch. He and Annie both scratched their heads.

  “See!” said Gertrude.

  “Augusta …,” her mother said in a stern voice.

  “Oh, all right! All right!” said Augusta, standing up. “I was trying to be kind! Come with me, please,” she said to Jack and Annie. “I’ll lead you down the lane a bit, at least past the sheepdogs.”

  As Augusta started out of the room, her mother stopped her and pinched her shoulders. “Carry yourself straight, daughter,” she said.

  Jack couldn’t imagine how the girl could carry herself any straighter.

  Augusta led Jack and Annie back down the dark hallway, through the fish-smelling kitchen, past the ancient butler sleeping by the fire and the three kitchen maids and the cook. Without a word, she grabbed her red cape and pulled it around her.

  “Where are you going, Miss Augusta?” asked Molly.

  “I have been ordered to send these poor children back out into the storm,” Augusta said.

  Jack and Annie forced their feet into their stiff, wet socks and boots. Augusta held the door for them, then followed them outside, slamming the door shut behind her.

  Even though it was still rainy and windy, Jack felt much happier outside the Big House than inside it. He and Annie followed Augusta past the gates and out to the lane. Augusta walked stiffly, leading them like a mother duck.

  “What are we going to do about her?” Annie whispered to Jack.

  “I don’t know,” whispered Jack. “She doesn’t seem very creative or imaginative to me.”

  “Well, we have to inspire her! Come on!” said Annie. She and Jack hurried to catch up with Augusta.

  “Miss Augusta!” said Annie, walking alongside her. “Do you like to sing? Dance? Paint? Play a musical instrument? Anything creative like that?”

  “No,” said Augusta. She sounded angry. Jack figured she must be mad at her mother for kicking them out of the Big House.

  “Well, what about nature?” said Annie.

  “What about it?” asked Augusta.

  “Walking in the woods?” said Annie. “Trees? Birds? Does anything like that inspire you?”

  “Not anymore. I was close to nature once,” Augusta said. “I used to roam the woods with my younger brothers. They said I was like a robin with the eye of a hawk. I knew where to find the caves of the otters. I knew where to find the nests of wild birds.”

  “That’s so cool,” said Annie.

  “I knew where the deer lay down to sleep,” said Augusta. “I knew the names of every tree: oak, beech, elm, hazel, larch, pine.…” Augusta’s voice grew a little wobbly, as if she might cry. “But I’m not allowed to roam the woods with my brothers anymore. Mother says it’s not proper for a young lady.”

  “That’s so sad!” said Annie.

  “Never mind,” said Augusta, lifting her chin. “Let us not talk about me anymore. Let us try instead to help the two of you. Cook said you were not good for anything. Why would she say that?”

  “They asked us if we were good for cleaning chimneys, plucking chickens, or catching rats,” said Annie, “and we said no.”

  “Then you must find other ways to make yourselves useful,” said Augusta, “or you will never find your way in the world. Can you shear sheep?”

  “We’ve never tried it,” said Jack.

  “Milk cows? Churn butter? Weave a shawl?” Augusta asked impatiently. “Hunt rabbits with hounds?”

  “Oh, never that!” said Annie. Jack laughed.

  Augusta frowned. “This is nothing to laugh about. Every day, you must ask yourselves: what am I good for?”

  Actually, that was a good question, Jack thought. What was he good for?

  “And I would like to give you a further piece of advice,” said Augusta. “Never make up stories about yourselves that aren’t true.”

  “What do you mean?” said Jack.

  “You never acted in a play
of Shakespeare’s, did you? Tell the truth now,” said Augusta.

  “We did,” said Jack. “My sister was telling the truth. We were both in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

  “We played wood fairies,” said Annie. “We had green costumes, and Jack gave a little speech and I danced and sang.”

  Augusta shook her head. “You poor dears,” she said. “I know you only make up these wild stories because your real lives are so miserable, but—”

  “Wait a minute. Stop,” said Jack. “What’s wrong with you? Why do you act so snobby?”

  “Snobby? Me?” Augusta looked confused.

  “Jack—” said Annie.

  “No, I’m serious,” Jack said to Annie. “She thinks she’s better than us.”

  “No, I don’t!” Augusta said, stunned. “I’m not like that at all! Each day I walk several miles to town to give cakes and clothes to poor children like yourselves.”

  “That’s nice,” said Jack. “But you think you’re better than those poor children, don’t you? You’d never want to be real friends with them, would you?”

  “What you say about me is not true!” Augusta said to Jack. “I love the poor! Why, my favorite friend in all the world is quite poor and has never been to school. Some say she’s even a little cracked in the head, but I love her dearly!”

  “Who’s that?” asked Annie.

  “Mary! Mary Sheridan, our old nursemaid,” said Augusta. “I’ll take you to meet her. Mary will tell you the truth about me! Come along!”

  Augusta ran from the lane and across the muddy grass, her red cape flying in the wind.

  “Um … I don’t think you inspired her,” Annie said.

  “I know, I’m sorry,” said Jack. “I just couldn’t take her attitude any longer.”

  “Well, get over it,” said Annie. “We’re supposed to help her, not annoy her.”

  “She was annoying me!” said Jack.

  “Yeah, I know,” said Annie. “Me too. But we’ve got a mission. Come on.”

  Jack and Annie followed Augusta across the grass to a small white cottage with a straw roof. Augusta banged on the door, scaring away birds eating crumbs by the front steps. “Mary! Mary! It’s me, Augusta!” she called.

  “Come in, my dear,” a voice answered.