It was the morning after the encounter with Clara and Albert Skinner. Hubert Netherbury sat in Lotti’s papa’s chair in the Barton Lacey study, a map spread out before him on the desk. His face, as he observed his niece standing on the fine Persian rug before him, was irritated. His wife had informed him at breakfast that Lady Clarion went to Scotland every year, and couldn’t believe the Netherburys had never been. Hubert must plan a holiday immediately, Vera had said, and never mind the cost. He had been in the middle of doing this when Lotti knocked on the door, and he did not like to be interrupted.

“I don’t understand what you need a tutor for,” he grumbled, when she had explained what she wanted.

Lotti, quaking inside, couldn’t quite meet her uncle’s eye, but she did manage to keep her voice steady.

“To teach me,” she said. “And also, because of the law.”

“What law?”

Lotti had prepared her story in advance. All she needed now was the courage to tell it.

“There’s this lady I met at the library …”

“What lady?”

“A tutor.”

“A female tutor?” Hubert Netherbury looked appalled.

“I went to the library to change my book,” Lotti plowed on. “It was a Dickens novel, Oliver Twist, and the tutor likes Dickens too so she asked had I read Great Expectations, and I said yes, we read it at school, and she said oh what school is that, then? And I said it used to be St. Margaret’s Academy for Girls but I had to leave, and she said where do you go now and I said I was Making Myself Useful at Home and she said, but how old are you, my dear? Don’t you know that a new law was introduced last year which says you must be in education until you are fourteen?”

Uncle Hubert made a spluttering sound. Lotti secretly began to enjoy herself.

“I said no, I must tell my uncle and aunt! But I’m afraid they won’t want me to go away again because I am So Very Useful to My Aunt, and then she said well I am busy in the mornings but if your aunt can spare you in the afternoons I can give you lessons and prepare you for the School Certificate—apparently, this is quite an acceptable alternative to school—and of course much, much cheaper—and so I said …”

“Enough!” howled Uncle Hubert.

“He said yes!” yelled Lotti, running toward the Sparrowhawk that afternoon. “Ben, my uncle said yes! I can learn with you and Clara! I don’t have to go away to school!” Lotti twirled, flapping the skirt of her mended sailor suit, then drew a squashed wax-paper packet from her satchel. “I convinced him! Me! Uncle Hubert! Put the kettle on, Sally gave me cake!”