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This drew another sigh from the boy, but it made him forget the slight to Sarah.

“So I do. It’s just Bash and me and the servant Irving against all those girls, but of course Bash is so little he hardly counts, and Irving spends most of the day out of doors.

But really, sir, they’re not so very bad, even if they’re all female.

Only Maria who is nearest in age to me causes me much grief.

Frances is all right, if you do what she says, and Mama, of course. And Sarah is nicest of all.”

“So many Barstows!” put in the curate. “I hope I will be able to keep them all straight. Did you meet many of them besides the—er—possibly timid one when you called, Langworthy?”

“Indeed I did. All the before-mentioned.”

“Splendid. And were you…able to complete your business there?” Rearden asked delicately.

To his surprise, the navy man reddened under his tan. “I…that is…there remains some still undone.”

“What business?” asked Gordon, his smooth brow gathering in a little furrow. He might only be nine, but he considered himself the man of the Barstow house.

Langworthy hesitated. “Hm. Well. Your brother asked me to make sure Mrs. Sebastian and your nephew were not—er—lacking for ‘food, raiment and the like.’”

“You needn’t have bothered,” piped up Peter. “Because my great-uncle Lord Dere looks out for them. All of them. My mother Mrs. Markham Dere says the baron never saw a pauper he didn’t like.”

“They’re not paupers!” Gordon scowled at his friend. But it must have been a familiar argument between them because Peter only shrugged. “Well, they’re not rich, at any rate.”

“Goodness!” The curate coughed to hide a chuckle before quickly turning the subject.

“If you have business yet to do, Langworthy, that means you will stay longer. You simply must!” He beamed, rubbing his hands together as he surveyed the company.

“Look at us all. And to think I feared it would be only me, the maid, and the cook!”

In the face of this eagerness, Langworthy’s demurrals were even feebler than they had been at the inn.

It was too easy to fall in with wishes which coincided with his own, and he surrendered with, “All right then, Rearden, if your invitation still stands, I’ll trespass on your hospitality a little longer. ”

“What nonsense, ‘trespass’! One hardly notices visitors before a month is gone. Ah, what a merry household we will be, don’t you think, Tommies?”

The Tommies nodded and muttered fitting phrases, finding it equally impossible to dislike the jolly man who welcomed them all.

Langworthy did not accept without a twinge, however, being fully aware that his own liking for Rearden was matched, if not outweighed, by the twin desires to economize and to vex Mrs. Sebastian.

But it was settled, in any case, and he dismissed his qualms with a shrug.

If he were guilty of using Rearden for his own ends, he would compensate by doing what he could for the curate, providing agreeable company and alleviating the man’s fear of the female servants.

Besides, it would only be for a short spell, most likely.

A few salvos directed at the widow to break down her offensive pride, a few pennies saved, and with any luck the war would start up again and he would be off.

“We must celebrate,” declared Rearden, “with whatever Winching can produce upon the moment. Likely only sandwiches, for whatever goodies she might have made for my predecessor Egerton will be long eaten.”

“You could all come to Iffley Cottage,” suggested Gordon, with the ease of a boy who thought nothing of the effort required to feed six unexpected male guests. “My mama is sure to have some cakes or biscuits on hand.”

“Or to Perryfield,” put in Peter Dere, not to be outdone. Though at least Perryfield’s housekeeper Robson could be depended upon to have treats at all times, given the baron’s sweet tooth.

“Oh, dear,” Rearden chuckled, “though it sounds tempting, I had better wait to be introduced to your families myself before I show up with a hungry troop in tow.” Winking at Langworthy he added, “No, no, I will screw my courage to the sticking place and speak with Polly.”

With the assistance of several cups of tea and slices of spicy gingerbread, the boys soon grew less shy of their new acquaintances, enough to fall into their usual ease with each other.

“One time we were with Denver—that’s an old pupil of Mr. Terry’s, Dr. Rearden, sir—who tried to show Tommy and me around Oxford,” Tom Ellis was saying at one point (his mouth not entirely empty of food, but with no ladies present to reprove him for it), “but he has no instinct for direction, and once outside the walls of Christ Church he was as lost as if you set him down in the steppes of Tartary.”

“It’s fortunate your schoolmaster found you, or who knows how long you might have wandered, or in what shabby part of town you may have got to!” exclaimed Rearden.

“Has this unfortunate Denver any head for mathematics?” asked Langworthy. “For his own safety and the safety of others he might be taught then to navigate by the stars on clear nights, instead of relying on instinct or memory.”

This observation led to the boys wanting to hear more about navigating by the stars, of course, which led Langworthy to telling them about learning from the master of the ship when he was a boy not much younger than Tom Ellis, and from there to him taking up a slate on which to draw figures.

“Ah, Langworthy,” said the curate, a half hour later, when nothing was left of the gingerbread but crumbs, “I daresay if any press-gang had ventured this far inland today, it might have taken four young recruits with little trouble.”

“But Gordy here doesn’t want to be a navy man,” said Langworthy dryly.

“No, sir, but I wouldn’t mind learning to navigate by the stars. An—explorer or a traveler to distant lands would still find it a useful thing.”

“So he would!” cried Rearden, snapping his fingers. “What would you say to it, Langworthy? I confess I haven’t a brilliant head for mathematics beyond arithmetic. Suppose you were to teach the Tommies a little celestial navigation?”

“But what about Gordy and me?” complained Peter Dere. “We still have to go to school at Keele’s, where Mr. Weatherill teaches us mathematics, but he doesn’t know a thing about selectual navigation.”

“Ah. I forgot,” Rearden frowned. “But I am not here to stir up trouble, lads. Keele’s is a good school, and in truth, you—all—have more pressing things to learn at your age.”

Remembering his decision to aid the curate where he could, Langworthy considered.

The proposed task, practical or not, would provide an excuse for him to remain as long as he liked.

And beyond his continued presence, would it not annoy Mrs. Sebastian further, to think her brother-in-law beholden to him for anything?

“I might teach on a Saturday morning, for an hour or two,” he suggested, “for any boys willing to give up a little of their winter leisure time. Not this Saturday, to be sure, for we must all settle ourselves in this new place, but the next?”

This met with instant acceptance and enthusiasm so great they might have wheedled him into beginning at once, had Polly not come back into the parlor to collect the dishes. Clicking her tongue, she gave the mantel clock a significant look.

“Master Peter, didn’t Harker say he would come again to fetch you home before two o’clock, knowing them at Iffley will eat their dinner then?

You and Master Gordon had better be on your way, if you don’t want to keep the coach waiting.

And only see! Not a scrap of Winching’s gingerbread left.

You boys have spoiled your appetites, to be sure. ”

Groans met this, but Rearden was sufficiently cowed by the maid to apologize for letting them eat so much and for losing sight of the time, and he added his urging to Polly’s.

“One moment, Gordon,” said Langworthy in the bustle.

“If you are going home now, perhaps you might carry your sister-in-law a note for me. Something I forgot to say while I was there.” Striding to the desk he took up a sheet of paper and a pencil.

Scribbling hastily, he folded it up and handed it to the boy.

“There you go. We’ll make a lieutenant of you yet. ”

Grinning up at him, Gordy made his best attempt at a salute and an “Ay ay, sir!” before he and Peter hurried away.

Excusing himself to go and unpack, Langworthy did not get much beyond flipping open the trunk lid before he threw himself across the old-fashioned curtained bed and stared up into its high canopy.

Am I behaving as befits an officer and a gentleman?

He wasn’t properly in the navy at present, he retorted inwardly. Never mind that Old Simes in his military guide declared, “Politeness should exceed authority, and the Officer subside in the gentleman.”

What happens on shore stays on shore , he insisted, just as he had often told himself when he had mischief in mind.

Mrs. Sebastian’s aloof, dismissive face presented itself again in his memory, and he took a long look at it, to harden his resolve.

And why should he not be resolved? Was she not just another in the sisterhood of her sex, a sisterhood to which Mary Pence belonged?

Another who did what she pleased without regard for what it did to a fellow.

One thing was certain: jousting with Mrs. Sebastian had roused him from his general gloom, if nothing else, and while he would not have called it pleasurable, it was so near to pleasurable that the word sufficed.