Ch3-Riches to Rags

CHAPTER THREE Riches to Rags Jack looked at Annie. "She called that kid Charley Dickens," he said. "I heard," said Annie. "So Charles Dickens must be five or six years old." "Oh, man," said Jack, groaning. "So Merlin wants us to help another little kid, like we helped

Wolfie Mozart?" "Seems like it," said Annie. "Wait a minute. That doesn't make sense. Let's do the math," said Jack. "Our book said Charles Dickens was born in 1812." He pulled out their research book and looked at the first page. "And Queen Victoria became queen in 1837." "The driver said she's been queen for six years…," said Annie. "So now it's 1843. Subtract 1812 from 1843.…" Jack squeezed his eyes shut. "And you get… thirty-one!" he said. "Good work!" said Annie. "So Charles Dickens is thirty-one," said Jack. "And Charley must be Charles Junior."

"Great," said Annie. "Let's go meet Charles Senior." Jack put away their book, and he and Annie walked to the front gate. Between the iron bars, they could see a beautiful three-story house with tall windows. "Nice place," said Annie. "It looks like Charles Dickens has already given his gifts to the world." "Yeah, and gotten some back," said Jack. "So I wonder what his problem is?" "We'll have to figure that out when we meet him," said Annie. She jangled a bell hanging from the gate. A moment later, the front door opened. A stout woman in a white apron came out and walked to

the gate. "Yes?" she said through the bars. "Is this the Dickens residence?" said Annie. "Yes," said the woman. "Ah, excellent!" said Annie. "We've come to call on Charles Dickens." "Indeed? Who are you?" asked the woman. "We're Jack and An—" started Annie. "Andrew!" finished Jack. "Right," said Annie, clearing her throat and deepening her voice. "We're Jack and Andrew from Frog Creek. And who are you?" "I am Mrs. Tibbs, the housekeeper," said the woman. "And it is my sad job to tell you that Mr.

Dickens can have no visitors today. He is working on his latest book and cannot be disturbed." "Mrs. Tibbs," said Annie, "may we have just five short minutes of Mr. Dickens's time, please?" "Young man, I am afraid that right now Mr. Dickens needs every minute he can spare for his writing," said Mrs. Tibbs. "Surely you know how important Mr. Dickens's work is." "Yes, ma'am, surely we do," said Jack. "But—" "I am terribly sorry, young gentlemen," said Mrs. Tibbs. "It grieves me to turn you away, but I must. I pray that you will bear no grudge against Mr. Dickens." With that, Mrs. Tibbs turned and hurried back inside. "Well, that didn't get us very far," said Jack.

"Surely it did not," said Annie. "Pardon us, sirs," someone said. Jack and Annie turned around. Two boys with dirty clothes and dirty faces were standing behind them. The taller boy wore an old top hat, and the smaller one wore a wool cap that was too big for him. He carried a large, round brush, a broom, and some rags. "Oh… hi," said Jack. "We was just needing to ring the bell, sir, if you don't mind," the bigger boy said. "Sure," said Jack. "But the housekeeper's not letting anyone in today. That's why we're leaving."