Kit stepped out of the workshop into the rather gloomy day. It had been overcast from morning, and a chill wind was whipping off the choppy waters of the Floating Harbor. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he started off along the cobbles toward Princes Street. As he drew level with the mouth of an alley, he sensed movement, turned his head, and saw a man striding away up the alley.
He watched the man for a second, but the fellow continued on, then Kit was past the alley and turned his eyes and mind toward the school.
* * *
Kit wasn’t surprised to find Sylvia at the school; in many respects, they seemed to think along similar lines.
He halted just inside the open door. As it was past four o’clock, the boys were long gone, and judging by their scarves and coats, Jellicoe, Cross, and Miss Meggs were on the point of leaving.
Jellicoe and Cross nodded genially Kit’s way, and Miss Meggs bobbed a curtsy.
Sylvia, tidying something away in a cupboard, turned and welcomed him with a smile.
Kit smiled back, then nodded to the other three. “All well here?”
“Better than well,” Cross replied, winding his scarf about his neck. “The excitement of the fire has proved a seven-day wonder with the boys, and Jellicoe and I have been elevated to the status of heroes.”
“As for you,” Jellicoe said, “now the news of you adding your name to the school and putting up a sign to prove it has broken, you occupy an even higher level in the boys’ estimation.”
Miss Meggs, a trifle pink, murmured, “Your claiming of them, as it were, has made a very real impression on the boys.”
With nods of farewell to him and to Sylvia, Jellicoe and Cross escorted Miss Meggs out of the door.
Sylvia, her reticule now in hand and her coat on, walked up. She paused beside Kit and, with her gaze on the departing trio, said, “All three of them stressed how deeply you attaching your name to the school and arranging a sign that will make that public has affected the boys. It seems they’ve all taken it to heart—their behavior has improved, along with their application.” She briefly met his eyes, the approval in hers very real. “I know you thought to protect the school by having your name and title so openly stamped upon it, yet in truth, the rise in the boys’ confidence—in their belief in their own self-worth—might well be the most valuable benefit to come from the sign.”
He lightly shrugged. “I’ll be delighted if that’s so.” He waved her on. As he followed her through the door, he realized he’d spoken truly; he did feel a certain pleasure—one of unlooked-for achievement—at the thought.
He waited while she locked the door. When she turned and arched her brows at him, he asked, “Wither away?”
She looked along the street toward the city. “To my office. There are a few invoices and orders I need to clear away.”
He understood the impulse to clear one’s desk at the end of the day. “I’ll escort you there.”
Sylvia accepted his offer with an inclination of her head and started down the steps.
They strolled side by side through the gathering dusk. The scents of autumn were riding the rising breeze, adding an earthy tang to the air.
They drew level with the Stenshaw house, and Sylvia glanced that way, but again, saw no sign of activity. She hadn’t seen Mrs. Stenshaw since they’d left her in her drawing room on Saturday.
Kit had noticed her look. “Any further trouble from that quarter?”
His tone suggested he would react if there had been; she debated mentioning her odd sense of being watched the previous afternoon, but... “No.” She shook her head. “Mrs. Stenshaw seems to have given up all active opposition to the school. She doesn’t even come out to glower at us.”
“Good.”
They walked around the corner onto the Butts.
She glanced at his face; as usual, it told her little. “How are things going at the warehouse?”
A quick grin flashed into being, and he met her eyes. “I’m amazed. Wayland’s amazed. We’ve actually laid the bilge board of our first keel.”
She smiled. “I take it that’s a remarkable achievement.”
“In just a few days? It most certainly is, especially as we had to do a great deal of preparation work to convert the warehouse to a functioning yacht-building workshop.”
“What sort of preparation?”
He grew animated as he told her, strong hands waving to indicate size and position.