"They were nice, weren't they, Uncle Sherlock?"
"Er, yes... indeed they were."
"Did Lucy's mama think you were someone else?"
"Why do you ask?"
"She called you 'Mr. Escott' when she was sitting with you on the park bench."
"How did you...? Oh, yes – I was forgetting about those sharp ears of yours. You really oughtn't to eavesdrop, Jamie. It can land you in a great deal of trouble."
"I couldn't help it that time. And you do it all the time, Papa says so."
"Remind me to have a word with your father when we return... and I do so for my work, lad, not for mere curiosity."
"Oh. So, does she know you?"
"She thought so, once..."
"Huh?"
"Never mind, I was thinking aloud."
"Can we see them again? Lucy said she likes feeding the ducks, too."
"I'm sorry, Jamie; I don't think that would be wise."
"Why not? You said they were nice!"
"My dear boy, even if your parents approved, I doubt very much that Lucy's would."
"But why?"
"There is... something of an awkward history between our two families – and that is all I am at liberty to say at present. Your father may explain when you are older."
"All right... Can we go back now? Mrs. Hudson promised I could help her make some biscuits..."