Margaret and the Moth Tree by Brit Trogen, Kari Trogen Read Free Book Online

from her mouth, she shuffled back to the scullery to check on Margaret …
    And you already know what she discovered. The polishing had been abandoned, and the little brown-haired dreg had disappeared.
    Agatha’s knees began to shake. Pet or not, a slip-up like this would be the last straw for her.
    Which is why, in a sudden panic, she took off down the hall to search for the missing girl. It is also why, when she overheard the dreg’s telephone call through the very same keyhole Margaret had peered through only moments before, she ran immediately to Miss Switch and told her every word of it.
    Surely, thought Agatha, warning Miss Switch of such a plot would bring her back into the Matron’s good graces.
    And when Miss Switch, who hated the very sight of the big-nosed child gasping in her doorway, heard what the girl had to say, she smiled a very sinister smile indeed.
    CHAPTER 11 Nothing Worse Than a Thief
    Margaret had been polishing for what felt like a very long time. She was just beginning to wonder how much longer the raven-haired Pet would stay in the pantry when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. She started polishing a little faster just in case the Pet was in a scolding mood, but it wasn’t Agatha who pulled open the door.
    It was Miss Switch, wearing a turquoise satin dressing gown.
    The Matron stared down at Margaret with a look of pure sweetness, her golden hair shining. “It’s Margaret, isn’t it?” she said, and her voice reminded Margaret of a purring cat.
    â€œYes, Miss Switch,” said Margaret, who was beginning to have a very bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.
    â€œMy,” purred Miss Switch, “what a nice job you’ve done with the polishing.”
    â€œThank you,” said Margaret.
    â€œWhy don’t you take a little break?” Stepping to one side, Miss Switch swept her arm in a wide gesture to the kitchen, and Margaret, not knowing what else to do, stepped slowly forward.
    Glancing around, she saw that Lacey was standing near the hallway door, smiling the hyena-like smile that made Margaret feel more like a lamb chop than a little girl.
    â€œPerhaps,” Miss Switch said softly, “you wouldn’t mind helping Lacey fetch my silk scarf from upstairs? I have a bit of a chill.”
    Margaret frowned slightly, certain the Matron would never ask a dreg to perform such a personal task. But she took a deep breath and said, “No, I wouldn’t mind.”
    â€œMarvelous,” said Miss Switch.
    â€œFollow me,” said Lacey.
    Margaret followed her up the stairs. When they reached the top, Lacey led the way to a large closet and pulled open the door.
    â€œIt’s in here,” Lacey said. “Near the back. Go on.”
    Margaret hesitated. She knew there was a good chance Lacey was up to something, and a very good chance it was something cruel. But she also knew that help couldn’t be far away, and that she need only play along until it arrived. So, with a nod, she stepped into the closet.
    Not surprisingly, the door slammed shut behind her and locked with a click. But what was surprising was the sound that echoed through the house only seconds later.
    Tweeeeeeeeet!
    The whistle!
    â€œNo!” Margaret cried, banging on the closet door. Now she knew what was happening. The only possible thing that could ruin her hopes of rescue: Miss Switch had ordered the switch once again. Even now, the orphans were covering the house in fine things and changing into their colorful coveralls and hiding all evidence of Miss Switch’s treachery.
    â€œStop!” cried Margaret. “Don’t do it!”
    But it was no use. Soon the commotion had stopped, and Margaret knew that the truth had been hidden once again. A few minutes passed, and then she heard the sounds of a car approaching and a hard knock at the front door.
    â€œGood evening, Miss Switch.” A man’s voice drifted up from the