In Which Horton Scrubs and the Great Detective Detects …
And what of Horton Halfpott?
Alas, he was where he was every day at that time. In fact, at almost all times. He was washing dishes.
Imagine how many plates, how many saucers, how many bowls, brandy snifters, butter trays, ice-cube nimbles, gin jiggers, melon ballers, salad tongs, salt cellars, teacups, teakettles, teapots, teaspoons, and tea strainers were used every day at the fancy Luggertuck table, where five-course meals were eaten three times a day, tea was served twice, and midnight snacks were offered at eleven, twelve, and one o'clock.
(You'll notice that forks were not mentioned. Faithful readers will remember that M'Lady Luggertuck had had a fear of forks ever since the events recounted in "M'Lady Luggertuck Hires a Tattooed Nanny.")
The cutlery of the staff has not been mentioned either, but, yes, Horton had to clean their gruel spoons, too. He counted once and found that he washed 652 spoons in a single day.
Yet try as she might—and she might—Miss Neversly never found a spot on any dish Horton cleaned. He was too careful. Miss Neversly once thought she beheld a spot on a sardine tray and beat Horton with her spoon. Then she realized it was only her own shriveled, hateful face reflected in the squeaky-clean surface. This made her so mad she hit him again.
So picture Horton, standing on a bucket, scrubbing away and dreaming of a beautiful girl on a bicycle. Yes, Reader, even if we're not dwelling on the subject, Horton certainly was. The boy was smitten.
"I wish I could see her again," he thought. "I wouldn't even have to talk to her. Just see her. I'll bet she'll be beautiful at the ball. But I'll be right here on my bucket while she and Luther dance. No, I won't even get to be in the same room. Unless …"
Whack! went a spoon on the back of his head.
"Halfpott! Pay attention!" bellowed Miss Neversly. "Everyone! To the Front Hall! Now!"
Horton did not dare to ask why. Would you? But it certainly seemed an unusual request. He had never set foot in the Front Hall and had assumed he never would.
He wrung out his rag and hung it on a tiny hook that kitchen boys had been hanging their rags on for two centuries.
The rest of the kitchen staff was excited, but Horton did not welcome the interruption, because it only meant that he would have to work later into the night to finish the washing.
In the Front Hall, he and the rest of the staff assembled in a long line. The head cooks and undercooks, the maids, the cleaners, the gardeners, the footmen, the butlers, the valets, the gamekeeper, the boatman, the boatwoman, the ferret comber, the fire stoker, the wig stroker and, of course, the many boys of kitchen, garden, and stable varieties.
Bump squeezed in next to Horton.
"A great big fat detective is here," whispered Bump excitedly. "He asked to see us. He thinks one of us has the Lump."
A chortle broke out behind them, close enough for hot sardine-scented breath to tickle their ears. They froze, prepared for a beating or worse.
"Well said, small stable boy, well said. I am, in point of fact, all three of those things," St. Pomfrey boomed. The boys cringed.
"I am great—perhaps the greatest practitioner of deduction, detection, and misdirection ever to deduce, detect, and misdirect. I am big, though I am the shortest of three brothers. And alas I am fat, thanks to a love of sardines, deviled eggs, and other delicacies.
"Your remark proves your innocence, boy. The guilty party will try to flatter me with lies. You, common stable boy, are a truth-teller. You may go. Hopefully to bathe."
Bump ran off. Horton wished he could go, too.
Portnoy St. Pomfrey chortled again, watching Bump run with a wistful look in his eye. Then he turned and glared at the servants. "The rest of you may not go! One of you has betrayed Smugwick Manor, betrayed M'Lady Luggertuck, betrayed all that is good amongst men. I will root you out like a mongoose in a snake's den. I will peer into your soul and see the Lump within."
His gaze came to rest on Horton. It seemed to linger.
Horton trembled. St. Pomfrey seemed to be peering into his soul at the Lump within!
Of course, Horton hadn't stolen the Lump, but he did have a secret.
A Big Secret!
And it felt like St. Pomfrey knew all about it.
