The Truth

Arcanum.
    “I think it must have been five or six,” said William.
    “Says fifty-six here,” said Mr. Mackleduff sternly. “In black and white.”
    “It must be right,” said Mrs. Arcanum, to general agreement, “otherwise they wouldn’t let them put it in.”
    “I wonder who’s doing it?” said Mr. Prone, who traveled in wholesale boots and shoes.
    “Oh, they’d be special people for doing this,” said Mr. Mackleduff.
    “Really?” said William.
    “Oh, yes,” said Mr. Mackleduff, who was one of those large men who were instantly expert on anything. “They wouldn’t allow just anyone to write what they like. That stands to reason.”
    So it was in a thoughtful mood that William made his way to the shed behind the Bucket.
    Goodmountain looked up from the stone where he was carefully setting the type for a playbill.
    “There’s a spot of cash for you over there,” he said, nodding to a bench.
    It was mostly in coppers. It was almost thirty dollars.
    William stared at it.
    “This can’t be right,” he whispered.
    “Mr. Ron and his friends kept coming back for more,” said Goodmountain.
    “But…but it was only the usual stuff,” said William. “It wasn’t even anything very important. Just…stuff that happened.”
    “Ah, well, people like to know about stuff that happened,” said the dwarf. “And I reckon we can sell three times as many tomorrow if we halve the price.”
    “ Halve the price?”
    “People like to be in the know. Just a thought.” The dwarf grinned again. “There’s a young lady in the back room.”
    In the days when this place had been a laundry, back before the pre–rocking horse age, one area had been partitioned off with some cheap paneling to waist height, to segregate the clerks and the person whose job it was to explain to customers where their socks had gone. Sacharissa was sitting primly on a stool, clutching her handbag to her with her elbows close to her sides in order to expose herself to as little of the grime as possible.
    She gave him a nod.
    Now, why had he asked her to come along? Oh, yes…she was sensible, more or less, and did her grandfather’s books and, frankly, William didn’t meet many literate people. He met the sort to whom a pen was a piece of difficult machinery.
    If she knew what an apostrophe was, he could put up with the fact that she acted as if she was living in a previous century.
    “Is this your office now?” she whispered.
    “I suppose so.”
    “You didn’t tell me about the dwarfs!”
    “Do you mind?”
    “Oh, no. Dwarfs are very law-abiding and respectable, in my experience.”
    William now realized that he was talking to a girl who had never been in certain streets when the bars were closing.
    “I’ve already got two good items for you,” Sacharissa went on, as if imparting State secrets.
    “Er…yes?”
    “My grandfather says this is the longest, coldest winter he can remember.”
    “Yes?”
    “Well, he’s eighty. That’s a long time.”
    “Oh.”
    “And the meeting of the Dolly Sisters Baking and Flower Circle Annual Competition had to be canceled last night because the cake table got knocked over. I found out all about it from the secretary, and I’ve written it all down neatly…”
    “Oh? Um. Is that really interesting, do you think?”
    She handed him a page torn from a cheap exercise book.
    He read:
    “The Dolly Sisters Baking and Flower Circle Annual Competition was held in the Reading Room in Lobbin Clout Street, Dolly Sisters. Mrs. H. Rivers was the President. She welcomed all members and commented on the Sumptuous Offerings. Prizes were awarded as follows…”
    William ran his eye down the meticulous list of names and awards.
    “‘Specimen in Jar’?” he queried.
    “That was the competition for dahlias,” said Sacharissa.
    William carefully inserted the word “dahlia” after the word “specimen,” and read on.
    “‘A fine display of Loose Stool Covers’?”
    “Well?”
    “Oh…nothing.” William carefully changed this to “Loose Covers for Stools,” which was barely an improvement, and continued to read with the air of a jungle explorer who might expect any kind of exotic beast to spring out of the peaceful undergrowth. The piece concluded:
    “…however, everyone’s Spirits were Dampened when a naked man, hotly pursued by Members of the Watch, burst through the Window and ran around the Room, causing much Disarray of the Tarts before being Apprehended by the