“Do you think Tommy deserves more books?”
She was quiet. Then, “Is it very naughty to say I want more?”
“Not naughty, no.”
“Greedy, then?”
Her hair was free of all snarls and tangles. He put the comb down on his desk. “Shall we go up to the nursery and read a Tommy adventure now?” It would be a change in their routine. Reading was usually for the evening, after Mina’s dinner and before Henry’s.
“No,” she said. “We must make a letter asking for another Tommy Treadwell book. I can’t write well enough, so you will have to do that part, but I will tell you what to say.”
“And are we writing to Tommy himself?” Henry asked gravely.
“No, Grandfather.” Mina gave him a look that was half pity, half scorn. “We are writing to Mr. Augustus Puddlewick, the man who writes Tommy’s stories.”
Dear Mr. Puddlewick:
My grandfather and I want to know if there is to be another book about Tommy Treadwell. We are writing this letter to you in the way of asking for a new book.
Our favorite Tommy story is the one where he builds a house in the forest for the faeries, so if you could have another one like that in the new book, that would be good. Or Tommy could rescue the pirates from the Sea of Storms, but maybe they (the pirates) could be more wretched and vile this time.
Please answer this letter but only if it does not get in the way of the writing of the book. We would much rather have a new book than a letter.
Your humble reader
“I must write my own name,” Mina said.
Henry nodded and dipped the quill into the ink and placed it in Mina’s hand. Very carefully, in large letters, she wroteW Kirby.
“There,” she said, sounding relieved. “Only one blob.” She gave the pen back to Henry.
“Very well done, indeed.”
Mina studied the letter. “Put your name, too.”
“You want me to sign the letter?”
“You must, Grandfather. Mr. Puddlewick will do what an earl asks of him.”
Henry obediently added anstohumble readerand wroteAshthorpeunder Mina’s name.
“Very well done,” she said, echoing his own words back to him.
“And where should I have my secretary send this letter?”
“To Mr. Puddlewick, care of the Manwaring Brothers.” Before Henry could ask, Mina went on, “The publishers in London. Their name is in the front of the books, before the story starts.”
Henry was a solitary man, but Mina made him wish for a friend if only so he could marvel to someone else about her cleverness.
He cleared his throat. “What if there is no answer or the brothers Manwaring do not know how to find Mr. Puddlewick?”
Mina thought. “Then we will have to find him ourselves. And we should also find a grandmama for me at the same time.”
Henry was caught off his guard. Mina had never said anything like this before.
“You want a grandmother?”
“Yes.” She slid out of his lap.
