Maisie was taken aback. It was not often that men snapped at her, and this was the second time Hugh had done it. But she did not want to quarrel with him again. She touched his arm. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to criticize your father. I just wanted you to understand why a child might steal."
He softened immediately. "And I haven't thanked you for saving my watch. It was my mother's wedding gift to my father, so it's more precious than its price."
"And the child will find another fool to rob."
He laughed. "I've never met anyone like you!" he said. "Would you like to have a glass of beer? It's so hot."
It was just what she felt like. "Yes, please."
A few yards off there was a heavy four-wheeled cart loaded with huge barrels. Hugh bought two pottery tankards of warm, malty ale. Maisie took a long draught: she had been thirsty. It tasted better than Solly's French wine. Fixed to the cart was a sign chalked in rough capital letters saying WALK OFF WITH A POT AND IT WILL BE BROKE OVER YOUR HED.
A meditative look came over Hugh's usually lively face, and after a while he said: "Do you realize we were both victims of the same catastrophe?"
She did not. "What do you mean?"
"There was a financial crisis in 1866. When that happens, perfectly honest companies fail ... like when one horse in a team falls and drags the others down with it. My father's business collapsed because people owed him money and didn't pay; and he was so distraught that he took his own life, and left my mother a widow and me fatherless at the age of thirteen. Your father couldn't feed you because people owed him money and couldn't pay, and you ran away at the age of eleven."
Maisie saw the logic of what he was saying, but her heart would not let her agree: she had hated Tobias Pilaster for too long. "It's not the same," she protested. "Workingmen have no control over these things--they just do what they're told. Bosses have the power. It's their fault if things go wrong."
Hugh looked thoughtful. "I don't know, perhaps you're right. Bosses certainly take the lion's share of the rewards. But I'm sure of one thing, at least: bosses or workers, their children aren't to blame."
Maisie smiled. "It's hard to believe we've found something to agree about."
They finished their drinks, returned the pots and walked a few yards to a merry-go-round with wooden horses. "Do you want a ride?" said Hugh.
Maisie smiled. "No."
"Are you here on your own?"
