Or so they’d hoped. Unfortunately for the residents of Marsyas Island, Harriet Marblemaw proved to be adept at rolling with the punches. Either that, or she was on to them, and wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
Take, for example, Monday afternoon, when she decided the best use of her time was to convince Theodore that seeing his hoard was not only necessary but could help her colleagues back at DICOMY have a better understanding of wyvern culture. Theodore, for his part, chirped that he’d rather sit on a sea urchin than show her anything and that he was going to spend the afternoon pointing out garbage. Since Miss Marblemaw was not fluent in wyvern, she thought he’d agreed.
As such, she spent the next three hours following Theodore. It took her nearly the entire time to realize he was not, in fact, taking her to his hoard but instead chasing a fly that had found its way inside. She came to this conclusion when the fly landed on her forehead, and Theodore launched himself at it. By the time Miss Marblemaw had stopped yelling in outrage, Theodore had eaten the fly and found a spot in the sun next to Calliope, stretching out and curling his head against her stomach. The thing of evil licked his ears as he closed his eyes, rumbling lowly in his chest.
“Three courtesy points!” Miss Marblemaw said in a shrill voice, her hair in disarray. “You’ve earned them! Make sure to tell everyone you know!”
At Monday’s supper, Talia decided that Miss Marblemaw needed to sit right next to her. “I wanted to talk to you,” she said, patting the chair.
“Oh, that sounds splendid,” Miss Marblemaw said, sounding rather excited for reasons Arthur was sure weren’t aboveboard. “As it turns out, I have something I’d like to ask you as well.”
“Of course you do,” Linus muttered, handing a basket of rolls over to Sal.
Miss Marblemaw took her seat next to Talia, turning to face her. “You are a very pretty girl.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Talia said as she shoveled green beans onto her plate.
“I’m so glad you said that, because it turns out I do have something to say that you don’t know.”
“Really?” Talia asked dubiously. “I know a lot.”
“You know some things,” Miss Marblemaw said. “As I said before, it’s unseemly for a lady to be braggadocious.”
“We’re so lucky you’re here,” Phee said. “Otherwise, how would we know anything?”
“Exactly,” Miss Marblemaw said. “Which is why I think Talia should consider shaving off her beard.”
Silence, only interrupted by Chauncey whispering, “Uh-oh.”
Miss Marblemaw continued as if she hadn’t just committed a dangerous faux pas. “After all, a proper lady does not have facial hair, or body hair of any kind. Though the upkeep can be time-consuming, it is important. How else are you going to one day find a husband?”
Talia stared at her. “I’m only two hundred and sixty-four. I’m going to wait until I’m at least four hundred before I start thinking about what babes I want to date.”
“Be that as it may, best practices start now,” Miss Marblemaw said. “Perhaps we can do it together!”
“Or,” Talia said, “we don’t do that and I pretend that what you said wasn’t offensive.”
“That’s because it wasn’t,” Miss Marblemaw said with a sniff. “That’s the problem with the world today. Everyone is so ready to be offended by just about anything.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be the one to decide what is or isn’t offensive to a person in the community you’re denigrating,” Sal said. “Do you even know why gnomes have beards or what they symbolize?”
Miss Marblemaw flicked her hand at him dismissively. “I highly doubt that a beard on a girl is meant to do much of anything aside from making others uncomfortable.”
“And that’s somehow Talia’s fault?” Phee asked. “Seems to me that instead of getting her to change, you should talk to those other people and tell them to mind their own business. Talia’s beard has nothing to do with them.”
“That’s absolutely correct,” Arthur said with a nod. “After all, the length and level of luxuriousness of a garden gnome’s beard is directly related to the well-being of their garden. The healthier the garden, the longer and thicker the beard. But then, as an inspector for DICOMY and undoubtedly an expert in all things magical, you don’t need us to tell you that.” He smiled at Talia. “Have I mentioned how beautiful your beard looks as of late?”
“I know, right?” Talia said. “One hundred brush strokes, every night. Papa’s getting really good at it.”
“Tonight, two hundred brush strokes,” Linus said. “Just to make sure.”
Miss Marblemaw chuckled, though it had an edge to it. “That’s so … special. However, I think Talia should consider her future rather than putting all her focus on a garden. Perhaps we could find a nice dress for you to wear. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Something with, oh, I don’t know, pink lace, and your hair done up in pigtails. And by shaving your beard, everyone would get to see those chubby cheeks!”
“That would be so fun!” Lucy said. “You know what would make it even better? If Miss Marblemaw led by example and shaved her mustache!”
Miss Marblemaw’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t have a—”
Except she did. Lucy said, “Flora bora slam!” and a long, brown handlebar mustache appeared on Miss Marblemaw’s face, neatly trimmed, the ends curled into a little loop. “Now you get to have facial hair too!”
Miss Marblemaw didn’t detonate as Arthur expected her to. Instead, she stood slowly from the table, her mustache stiff above her lip as she smiled furiously. “Remove it.”
Lucy shrugged. “Okie doke. Satan appease me!”
The mustache wriggled but otherwise remained as is.
“Oops,” Lucy said. “So, here’s the thing. I’m only seven years old, and still learning. I’m just a little guy!”
“And?” she said, shoulders stiff.
“And,” Lucy said, drawing out the word for a good five seconds, “that means I sometimes do things I don’t mean to. Like giving you permanent facial hair that no matter how much you shave will regrow within six hours, six minutes, and six seconds. My bad!” He blinked innocently at her with wide, angelic eyes. “But good news! You sort of make it work if you squint and tilt your head and look in the opposite direction.”
Miss Marblemaw paled. And then she ran from the kitchen. A moment later, they heard the front door thrown open, bouncing off the front of the house.
“Do you think she liked it?” Lucy asked. “Is that creamed corn? Oh my God, I am going to eat so much of it.”
“Lucy?” Talia said.
“Yeah?”
