What Miss Molly said was true. I suppose I never really did get over what happened that day. Tobey’s memory haunted all my dreams and I constantly had his image in the back of my mind. I “d wager that I could draw a flawless portrait of him with my eyes closed. Our moms were sold when we were babies, so like most of the servants “round, we were raised by Miss Marian (the head cook), Miss Molly (the head maid), Mr. Heckle (the gardener) and even a little by Tobias (the chief of the guards). Tobey thought Tobias must have been his dad since they had the same name. I think he might have been right because they had the same eyes.

Anyway, me and Tobey worked together for a long time. Tobey was always thinking of games that would make the work not so bad. When we mopped, we made pictures on the floor with the water. Sometimes we’d race n’ see who could collect the most eggs fastest without breaking none. Tobey always won, but I had fun just playing. But please don’t misunderstand. It’s not like I spent six years crying in bed. Life went on, though mornings were always hard.

I was running late again. It had become a habit. One that Sir Championt did not appreciate. I normally managed to catch up fairly well. That day I brushed my hair as I swept, and ate breakfast while I mopped. By the time I was ready the cold and cracked marble floor was spotless. I was working with Amelia, her and her sister Amy Leigh were the only female servants my age working in the manor at the time. We had just begun to wash the windows in the south wing, when we heard shouts from outside. As I recall it was more like a chant than shouting. Anyhow, Amelia and I were intrigued. After a quick glance at each other we dashed out onto the balcony.

There was a mob of middle-aged women and very young children gathered outside the gate. Some of the women held big pieces of parchment, but I was unable to make out their messages. “What’s all this?” Amelia wondered out loud.

“Looks to me like a protest.” I replied. This was very unusual. I don’t believe I had seen a protest since the war. That brought a pang of pain to my chest. The spasm always responded to any thought dealing with my 10th birthday, which had been the beginning of the war.