In Which Horton Is Rudely Received …
Horton arrived back at Smugwick Manor just after dark, stumbling up the drive in a state of muddiness, stinkiness, itchiness, and emotional confusion.
He expected to find the inhabitants of Smugwick Manor off to their nocturnal quarters—the Luggertucks to their stately bedchambers, the better servants to their small rooms, and his fellow lowly servants to their rickety cots in the stiflingly hot attic above the southeast wing, where it still smelled like pigeon dung although no pigeon had roosted there in forty years.
Instead, he found the manor alive. Lights bobbed behind windows as if candles were being carried from room to room. Several strange wagons sat in the drive, where all of the servants appeared to be assembled.
"Here, boy, what are you up to?" barked an extremely rude voice. It belonged to a rude man who grabbed Horton rudely around the neck.
"I—"
"What are you hiding, boy?" he demanded. (Rudely interrupting.)
"N—"
"Miss Neversly, is this filthy thing one of yours?" He dragged Horton toward the clump of servants. Even in the dim light, Horton's muddy clothes were plain to see. And his coating of mire mud stank by day or night.
Slugsalt, a garden boy, and some of his cronies laughed; Miss Neversly did not. Instinctively she grabbed for her spoon, but luckily for Horton's head she had left the spoon behind when she and the other kitchen staff were ordered outside.
"Yes, Constable Wholecloth," she said. "He's mine. One of my worst."
Then she turned on Horton. "Been lazing the day away in the pond, have you?"
"No, ma'am, I—"
"Or have you been sneaking about, hiding what you stole?"
"What? No, ma'am, I—"
"Someone fetch my spoon, I'll get the truth out of him!"
The baker, Loafburton, spoke up.
"Oh, Nell, leave him alone," he said.
Several servants gasped at his impudence and cowered as Miss Neversly's face turned red and her spoon hand twitched.
But the baker, a small man with strong, flour-covered arms, continued: "Don't you remember you sent him all the way to the Shortleys' today? He probably fell in the mire."
"Yes," cried Horton.
"Enough!" shrieked Miss Neversly. "Go to the stables and wash until the stink is gone. I won't have you tracking mud into my kitchen and you have many dishes to wash tonight."
"Wait!" barked Constable Wholecloth, coming toward Horton with a lantern. Horton could now see that the man indeed wore a policeman's uniform a'dangling with badges, medals, epaulets, and sashes.
"Turn out your pockets," the uniform said.
Horton did. They were empty except for a short candle stub. The constable, holding his nose, gave Horton a kick and told him to go wash.
Bump slipped away from the others and went with him. "You'll never believe it, Hort!" he said.
"What on earth is going on?"
"Someone's stolen the Lump!"
