The Treasure of Netherstrand

Chapter 18

It was a pleasure to watch the glass sparkle. As he washed each window, Timothy wiped away a layer of fog and revealed a dark seascape beyond him. It was a chilly day. The wind was blowing gently, and rain was drizzling over the sand and ocean waves.

I'm awful glad that I'm in 'ere instead o' out there in the cold, he thought, scrubbing every inch of the last window in the drawing room. He said a thankful prayer and then set his hands to work at another task. The room was full of pretty knickknacks. There were little figurines, vases of flowers, ornate little clocks, and stunning pieces of artwork all over the place. Timothy dusted each and every one of them, handling them with the utmost care.

Just fink, he dreamed happily. When Izzy comes in 'ere, she'll look at all these shiny fings an' laugh to 'erself; 'cause there'll be no reason for her to dust when everyfing's already clean! Poor Izzy's got enough t' do already. She goes upstairs an' downstairs all the time, carryin' water up t' the folks what needs it an' makin' everyfing look dimber.

The little boy's heart was soaring with pure joy. So many times, he had woken up in the morning half afraid that Netherstrand and its wonders had only been a dream. Sometimes, he had expected to open his eyes and find himself back in the uncomfortable boat which had sheltered him before. But this blissful dream never vanished. He was so thankful for his new home and for all of his friends.

Mr. Hannover ought t' be wakin' up soon, he thought, glancing at a clock as he dusted it carefully. An' when he does, he'll see the cup o' coffee an' the gift I left 'im!

On Hannover's desk, there was a wonderful, roundish seashell called a Sea Potato. It was a marvelous treasure from the beach which Timothy had found earlier that morning. He had forgotten to think that such a gift might betray his secret. He had only hoped and imagined that the beautiful thing would give his master as much joy as it had given him.

Without knowing it, Timothy had slowly been forgetting to guard his secret work. It had all become the habit of daily life to him. Instead of sneaking with perfectly silent steps, he had been hurrying all through the house, going about his business with a light, carefree heart. He really hadn't made any kind of ruckus, but it had been enough to gain the attention of one suspicious mind. Without his notice, his secret was being unraveled.

The room was already halfway clean. Tim dusted to his heart's delight, humming a quiet, happy song to himself as he went. After wiping one ornament clean and setting it back on its shelf, he reached for another: a beautiful, old figurine in the shape of a fair maiden. He had just taken the thing in hand and was about to polish it when a scuffling noise caught his attention, and a cry of alarm sent an electric sting of fear into his heart.

"Don't touch that!" someone yelled. In his terror, Timothy almost dropped the priceless antique. He fumbled clumsily, caught the statue just in time, and then felt someone snatch it away from him.

"Foolish, impertinent, presumptuous child!" Sebastian roared. "What are you doing? What mischief have you conjured behind our backs?" He was seething with rage. His gray eyes were flashing like lightning. His large nose and his bony cheeks were crimson with fury. Timothy couldn't speak. His heart was pounding wildly.

"I knew you would cause some kind of trouble!" the butler roared. "I knew I should have complained long ago and sent you away from this house! Where do you get the gall to touch my mistress's things? Who gave you the order? Who gave you the right to tamper with antiques two-hundred years old or more?" He set the figurine down with such care that it could have almost been called tenderness. Then he flashed his eyes upon Timothy again. "Speak now, or you shall never have another chance!" he growled. "I have the power to throw you out of the house straight away and forbid you to set foot upon this property again!"