Right, deviation from the plot: we're back to Little Sybil. Not for some clever literary reason, but simply because I felt like some fluff amid all the angst. I hope you enjoy it.

"Mrs Hughes, can we go and ask Mrs Patmore for some crusts?"

Elsie frowned down at the child standing there in her neat little coat, hat and gloves; as she negotiated herself into her own rather shabbier set. It was an odd request, even by Sybil's standards.

"Haven't you had any breakfast?"

Sybil laughed hysterically, seeming to think that the housekeeper was joking.

"We need to feed the ducks," the child instructed her, as if it were a compulsory requirement of visiting the village.

Her obvious conviction was very endearing, so, once she had her gloves on, Elsie reached a hand out for Sybil's.

"Come on, then," she told her, "Let's go and see if she can spare us any."

All in all, Elsie thought as they proceeded down the house's drive- a paper bag of crusts clutched tightly in Sybil's other hand- there were worse things to do with her day off. One of them was the stack of paperwork she'd been intending to wade her way through until her Ladyship had called upon her that morning.

"I know it's a dreadful thing to ask of you on your day off, Mrs Hughes," Lady Grantham had said, "But Ellen's taken ill and Sybil says she won't go to Ripon with me and her sisters. Could you take care of her for the day?"

In truth, Elsie did not mind one bit. She had to walk a little more slowly to the village so Sybil could keep up, but it was a nice enough day and the child's lively chattering about the buildings and plants they passed on the way was certainly enough to keep her amused.

"Didn't you want to go to Ripon with your Mama and sisters?" Elsie asked, as they reached the main road.

Sybil shook her head fervently. Elsie smiled at the little glower that had appeared.

"Why not?" she asked gently.

"Because they only talk about frocks," was the reason.

Fair enough, Elsie supposed.

"And men."

She was hard pressed not to laugh out loud at that, but innocent little Sybil couldn't possibly know why that was funny, so she didn't. Still, she had thought Lady Grantham might be less severe than her mother-in-law when it came to this attitude of treating marriage like a vocation. Instead she allowed herself a small smile, before asking;

"What would you rather talk about instead?"

Sybil seemed to realise that this was an invitation for her to choose them a topic of conversation.

"I don't know," she concluded after a moment's contemplation, "Mama says it's polite to let other people choose what you talk about."

Elsie assumed that her Ladyship had not been referring to servants in this instance, but there was something improperly wonderful in the fact that this intelligent child had not made this distinction.

"Do you always feed the ducks when you go to the village?" she asked with some curiosity.

Lady Sybil shook her head.

"Not at Christmas time," she replied, "They go away at Christmas time," she informed her wisely, but then seemed to find something amiss in this. "Why do they go away at Christmas time, Mrs Hughes?"

"Because they want to live somewhere warmer, I suppose."

"Oh yes. They wouldn't want to have to sit in the cold on Christmas Day."

There was something in the child's notions of ducks actively observing the festive season that made her smile irrepressibly.

"No one does," she observed, rather than choosing to correct her and telling her that the ducks probably couldn't keep track of dates.

Another figure on the road was approaching them, headed in the opposite direction. Elsie thought she had recognised their passer-by and as Charles Carson drew nearer he raised his hat to each of them in turn. Lady Sybil smiled at the approach of someone else that she knew.

"Hello, Mr Carson," she chirped happily, "Mrs Hughes was telling me about what ducks do at Christmas time."

Elsie saw the butler raise his eyebrows at her slightly, but thankfully he did not press for an explanation.

"Why were you at the village?" she asked the butler, "I could have easily run an errand for you if you'd needed me to. It's my day off, after all."

"Thank you," he inclined his head, "But it was polish that needed fetching, and fetching quickly. We couldn't have had the silver looking shabby for Lady Sybil dining at the table, could we?"

Lady Sybil giggled happily at the thought. The children usually ate with their parents when the nursemaid was too ill to see them. Heavens, Elsie thought, I'll probably have to make sure she's neat enough later on...

"Would you ladies care to be escorted... wherever you are going?"

"Don't you have silver to polish?" she asked.

"That can wait," he assured them.

Elsie glanced at Sybil, leaving the decision to her.

"Yes, thank you, Mr Carson," she decided, "You are a gentleman."

Over the child's head, Elsie and Charles exchanged and amused glance. Lady Sybil extended her other hand to Charles, who relieved her of her bag of bread, before taking hold of the small gloved hand; and the three of them proceeded towards the duck pond.

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