As Anna had expected, Elizabeth’s eyes lit. “Do you?”

“Oh yes. I have my own irons, too. We can curl it this evening, if you’d like.”

“Liza,” growled Desford.

Elizabeth bit her lip and Anna could almost feel the child backing away from her. Refusing to bow to such heavy-handed tactics, Anna merely said, “I have some extra ribbons, as well. Some lovely blue ones.” Then she stepped on to the next child. “Who have we here?”

The little boy was an exact replica of Desford, but his narrow face was shadowed, his eyes haunted. Anna held out her hand. “How do you do?”

He didn’t move, just stood staring up at her. She could feel Greyley at her side. “Richard doesn’t speak,” he said quietly.

Anna knelt in front of the boy and smiled. “I daresay you will speak when you have something to say, won’t you?” She reached out to smooth a strand of hair from his brow. The moment her fingers brushed his forehead, he jerked back, his mouth thinning into a mutinous line.

Anna chuckled. “At least you are still able to think for yourself. I will remember that you don’t like anyone touching your hair.” Though the child didn’t move, she thought she detected a gleam of faint approval in his glance.

She stood and brushed her knees, then went to the next child, a girl of about six with a head of curly hair that longed for a brush, her stout body dressed in a torn and grass-stained gown. “How do you do?”

The girl wiped her nose on a rather grimy sleeve. “I’m Maid Marian.”

“Miss Marian Elliot,” Greyley said in a tone of long suffering.

Anna had to swallow a chuckle. “How do you do, Maid Marian. I loved the stories of Robin Hood when I was young, too.”

Maid Marian glanced at her brothers and sisters, who were all glaring at her. The sight seemed to give her courage, for she straightened her shoulders and then said in a defiant tone, “Desford made a bow and some arrows for me.”

“How kind of him! I didn’t have a brother to help me and I was forced to make a bow and arrow out of the broom handle and a bit of string and just pretend to shoot. I daresay you are quite good.”

“I beat Desford,” Marian said in a proud tone.

“Did not,” the young boy said hotly. “Liza jostled my arm or I’d have hit the bull.”

Marian plopped a hand on her hip. “Liza didn’t touch you and you know it! I hit closer to the center than you. Therefore I won.”

Anna had to give the child credit—she wasn’t about to let Desford bully her. Which was a good thing, because it was painfully obvious that he was their unspoken leader. Perhaps that was the weak link in the chain—none of them was as angry as Desford.

Anna moved on to the last child in line. She was tiny, with silky brown ringlets falling over her brow and shoulders, and thickly lashed blue eyes that focused on Anna with unwavering regard. The child held on to a ragged doll that was missing an arm and one eye. The little girl didn’t seem to mind, for she hugged it tightly while sucking on one of her fingers.