“Did you know my mother or father?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“My mother was an actress. Are you an actress?”
“No.”
Mina thought. “Grandfather said I wouldn’t need a governess until I was seven.”
“I would be a horrid governess. I’m terrible at sums. And you’re much too clever for me. You got an answer out of me without asking a question. You must have learned that from someone.”
Susannah winked at Henry.
Oh. He liked that wink.
Mina clapped her hands together. “Are you Augustus Puddlewick?”
Susannah smiled. “I am.”
“Oh, I knew Grandfather would find you.” Mina sat up very straight and bounced up and down on the sofa a little bit.
“Are you surprised?” Susannah asked.
“Yes. I didn’t know girls could be named Augustus.”
“Well, Augustus Puddlewick isn’t really my name. My name is Miss Susannah Augusta Beasley.”
“Augusta is very like Augustus.” Mina stopped bouncing. “That’s a very nice name. Why would you not say the books were by Miss Beasley?”
“Many reasons. But one is that I didn’t think people would want to read a story written about a boy if a woman wrote it.”
“Oh. That’s silly.” Mina darted a glance at Henry and then looked back at Susannah. “I mean the people not reading, notyou, Miss Beasley.”
“And it’s common for authors to have a made-up name.”
“But isn’t it,” Mina looked at Henry again, “lying?”
“I always thought of it as more like pretending. Just like writing the Tommy Treadwell stories. You know they’re not true, but they’re not lying. They’re pretend. And because it’s quite usual to use a false name, anom de guerre,” a second wink directed at Henry, “in writing books, I thought people might forgive me for hiding behind a name like Puddlewick.”
“I see.”
“And your grandfather was curious and found where I lived, and I am here to meet you and . . .”
“And what?”
“That’s all. Just to meet you.”
“Did Grandfather tell you we want you to write another book?”
“Yes. Yes, he did.”
“Will you?”
“I . . . I am going to try.”
“Is it very difficult to write a book?”
“Sometimes it is. And sometimes it’s very easy.”
