A yell of “Oy, up!” came from behind them, and the boys scattered like a group of very excitable quail. Sophronia followed their lead. A new sootie, riding astride a great pile of coal in some kind of wheelbarrow-like contraption, came hurtling toward them. The wheelbarrow rattled headlong at the maw of the boiler. The boy remained proudly atop it, whooping enthusiastically. The others hooted him on.
Sophronia gasped, certain the thing would go crashing right into the impossibly hot boiler, dumping both coal and boy inside. At the last minute, the sootie jumped off and somersaulted away, leaving the cart to rush forward; tip in, unloading all of its coal inside; and bounce off.
“Pips! It worked!” The boy jumped to his feet.
The others all returned and gathered around him, proving that he was taller than most.
“Takes you twice as long to load it full. We’re still stoking more per hour,” commented one.
“Yes,” said the tall one, “but ain’t this invention?”
“How’d it bounce back like that?” Sophronia asked, joining the crowd as if she had always been there.
The boy turned in her direction. In addition to being taller than the others, he seemed to be more thickly coated in soot. His eyes were startlingly white in a dark face. Her question solicited a flash of equally startlingly white teeth. “Ah, yes, a spring rebound mechanism without india-rubber fixings. Vieve worked a whole week on that. Wait a minute there…. They letting girls be sooties now?”
“She’s an Uptop.”
“Came exploring.”
“Found us.”
“Ah, not so good at exploring, then?” The tall boy hooted at his own joke.
“I beg your pardon!” Sophronia took mild umbrage.
“No offense meant, miss. We sooties aren’t exactly upmarket chappy chaps.”
“Yet that contraption of yours was rather topping. Not to mention your dismount. I’m Sophronia, by the way.” Sophronia decided to practice a bit of her eyelash-fluttering lesson.
The tall one didn’t seem overly impressed by the eyelashes. “How-d’ye-do, miss? I’m Phineas B. Crow.”
Sophronia gave him a curtsy, and for the first time since she’d arrived at Mademoiselle Geraldine’s Finishing School for Young Ladies of Quality, no one commented on its poor implementation.
“Though everyone calls me Soap,” added Phineas B. Crow. “Because I needs it more than most.”
Sophronia continued batting her eyelashes at him.
“You got some soot in your eye, there, miss?”
Clearly I haven’t mastered the art yet. “No, practicing.”
“What, miss?”
“Never you mind.”
“That india rubber you got wrapped about them little stompers?” Soap’s tone was full of avarice.
“Yes. Got it off a dumbwaiter. But you can’t have it; I need it.”
“What’s an Uptop need with india-rubber shoes?”
“Climbing, of course.”
“That how you got here? Never heard of a girl who climbed afore.”
Sophronia shrugged, pleased at the compliment. Soap, she thought, has a pleasant smile.
A yell came from behind them. One of the large men—Supervisor, most likely—marched in their direction.
“Oh, blast it,” said Soap. “Greaser. Scatter!”
The boys ran in various different directions. Soap tugged Sophronia after him, to crouch down together behind a huge mound of coal.
“We ain’t got long back here afore they suss us out.”
“Is this what you do all day—shovel coal?”
“Ain’t a bad life. Used to work Southampton docks,” replied Soap with one of his grins. “Still can’t eat fish.”
Sophronia said, “You know, it is nice to meet you, Mr. Soap. I got myself an unexpected mechanimal, so I imagine I might have to pop down here regularly.”
“After the coal, are ya?”
“Rather. Poor Bumbersnoot; he must be starving by now.”
“I thought them mechanimals weren’t allowed.”
“Said he was unexpected, didn’t I?”
Soap let out a bark of laughter that was sure to attract attention even in the noise of the boiler room. “You’re all right for a girl, Miss Sophronia. Pretty, too.”
Sophronia snorted. “I only recently made your acquaintance, Mr. Soap. No need to fib.”
“Whoa ho ho,” said a booming voice, “what have we here?”
Soap stood immediately, his back ramrod straight. Sophronia followed his lead.
“Just taking a breather, sir.”
“Soap, you ain’t never doing just nothing. Who’s that you got with ya?”
Sophronia stepped forward. “How do you do, sir? Sophronia Angelina Temminnick.”
“An Uptop? Down ’ere? Best get her along right quick, before the Junior Sixth Assistant Engineer sees ya. I’ll pretend you was never ’ere, shall I?”
“Thank you very much, sir,” said Sophronia with a curtsy.
Soap led her back to the hatch. “He’s not a bad kind of greaser, Old Smalls.”
“It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Soap.”
He twinkled at her. “Aye, it was, miss. Supposing I’ll be seeing you again.”
“Perhaps.” Sophronia let herself out.
Before she could close the hatch, Soap’s dark head stuck out. “Oh, miss, best change that pinafore. Wouldn’t want people knowing you went south.”