5. Miss Travis

It was a great testament to Herbert Trubshaw's friendship with Archibald Snatcher that the former was not only able to get the latter to agree to participate in flying a kite, but in making one as well.

Archibald hadn't seen the point of it. Why watch something flap about uselessly in the sky? One might as well watch birds (which was apparently something else people did that made no sense to Archibald). But Herbert had been so excited about the concept, especially of the idea that he could build the frame and string of the kite while Archibald provided the fabric to catch the wind, and Archibald found himself committing to the kite project with nary a complaint.

The boys had both reached the age of sixteen, and very little had changed between them. They chose to schedule their kite-flying adventure as a rare daytime excursion, as the night sky was not optimal for viewing a kite high in the sky. On their way down the hill to the river, they caught the unmistakable scent of smoke.

"You don't suppose someone's in trouble, do you?" Herbert asked worriedly, quickening his pace and rounding the corner to see the source of the smell. Before Archibald could answer, the boys were greeted by the sight of a mass of black smoke pouring out of the windows and doors of a tall, thin house. Faint cries could be heard from inside.

"Someone's in there!" Herbert realized out loud.

"Trubshaw, NO," Archibald pleaded.

"Someone's got to help them!" Herbert dropped the kite, rushing toward the door of the house so as to slam into it with his full weight, leading with his shoulder.

"Trubshaw, don't you DARE," Archibald snapped. "Not unless you WANT to get killed."

Herbert hit the door and bounced off. Only slightly shaken, he tried once more to break down the door in the name of rescue.

"If you go in there, I am NOT coming after you!" Archibald added. "It'll be your own fault!"

"Hang on, whoever's in there!" Herbert called at the door. "I'm coming to get you out!" He slammed at the door again and bounced right off.

Archibald realized he was fighting a losing battle with both Herbert and himself. The next time Herbert charged the door, he ran right alongside him, and the combined momentum of the pair was just enough to break the door out of its frame. The two boys rushed into the house, following the smoke's trail down into a basement; the cries grew louder.

And just as they arrived, they saw a girl about their age, dressed in blue and with dark hair pulled back into messy ponytails, pouring a bucket of water onto a smoking mechanical contraption that itself resembled a bucket set atop a mess of cogs and levers. "No, no, NO!" she moaned. "No, it's all gone wrong! You weren't supposed to catch fire! You were only supposed to – "

She then became aware of the fact that she wasn't alone. Sheepishly, she turned to look at her would-be rescuers. "Oh, hello," she said with a guilty smile and wave.

"We've come to save you from the…fire," Herbert explained.

The girl replied with a nervous laugh. "No fire here. Well, there was, but I've put it out. Everything's all right now. Sorry to make you worry."

"That might have been a good thing to know before we BROKE YOUR DOOR IN," Archibald growled.

"Oops…" the girl squeaked. "Don't worry!" She put up and waved her hands. "I'll tell my parents it was all my fault! Oh, they won't be happy about any of this at all…and I was so CERTAIN I'd gotten my machine to work properly."

At a certain word, Herbert's attention switched tracks: "Machine? Were you building something?"

"It's washing day," the girl explained, "so I thought perhaps things would go faster if I made a machine to do it for me. See? The washing tub vibrates, and the clothes get tumbled around the board set inside of it…or at least, that's how it was supposed to go. What it actually ended up doing was just creating a lot of smoke. And now I'm to be even farther behind on the washing."

"Not to mention what we've done to your door," Herbert said mournfully. An idea then occurred to him. "Might I help you finish up your work?"

"You've no need to do that," the girl told him. "It's my mess. I'll clean it all up."

"Far be it from me to abandon someone in need, even if it is only washing clothes," Herbert told her. He then turned to Archibald; "You don't have to stay, of course. You can go out with the kite. Or do whatever you'd rather do, if the kite isn't to your liking."

"Of course the kite's to my liking!" Archibald blurted almost automatically. "After I put all that blue on it, it had better be." He truly did not want to spend time in a stranger's basement helping her wash clothes, but even less did he want to go back outside and try to enjoy his time alone. He was still terribly smitten with Herbert, and to that end, he was willing to commit to such tedium in order to keep their arranged date. "Though I think I'll chip in with the washing as well. You'll probably do it wrong anyway." He gave Herbert a playful shove, which Herbert returned.

"Well, both of you have my UTMOST gratitude," the girl sighed, removing the washing tub from its vibrating base and bringing out several garments to toss into the water.

As she set up the tub for cleaning, Herbert asked, "Might we know your name?"

"It's Marjorie," the girl replied. "Marjorie Travis. And yours?"

"Herbert Trubshaw," Herbert answered, extending a hand. Marjorie took it, and Herbert shook it firmly.

He shakes a lady's hand instead of kissing it, and it's passed off so casually, Archibald thought, but when I kiss a man's hand, I find myself abjectly ostracized.

"And you?" Marjorie approached Archibald.

Archibald didn't know exactly what it was about Marjorie he didn't like, but she was in some way annoying him greatly. She had been ever since she'd shown off her makeshift "washing machine." Still, in the name of decorum, he took Marjorie's hand and very briefly kissed it in greeting. "Archibald Snatcher. Pleasure to meet you." Even though he didn't really mean it.

"And a pleasure to meet you!" Marjorie replied.

Soon, the trio was settled around the washing tub, all working away at various garments with their own washing boards. Herbert couldn't help himself from looking around the basement, which resembled a small workshop. "You're an inventor, aren't you?" he said in awe.

"Sometimes," Marjorie told him. "Sometimes, I'm just a builder. I built the pencil sharpener on that desk there. It works better than the ones my parents gave me."

"And what's that?" Herbert indicated a large hunk of metal stuck to the ceiling; several smaller metal tools were attached to it.

"Oh, that…" Marjorie muttered. "That was supposed to be a storage magnet for my tools. I thought, why not stick them all to the ceiling with a magnet and take them down whenever I needed them? Then I wouldn't have to clutter up the desk! But the magnet turned out to be too strong, and now I can't unstick anything from it. I probably should have just used hooks to hang them from the ceiling instead."

"Probably," Archibald confirmed.

"And then there's the…" Marjorie then interrupted herself; "I'm talking too much about my contraptions, aren't I? I keep forgetting it's not proper conversation."

"Oh, I think it's very good conversation," Herbert told her. "I think all of these things are brilliant!"

"You do?" Marjorie blushed.

"I'm a builder and inventor myself," Herbert went on. "I've actually been trying to put together a vehicle that will travel the streets powered by an engine for the past few years."

"Really? That sounds fascinating! I'd LOVE to see it!"

"I'd be quite happy to show you!"

Archibald watched as Herbert and Marjorie seemed to glow more brightly in each other's presence, communing over their shared interest in mechanics.

"I find it strange that I haven't seen you about."

"I don't really go out, actually. I spend most of my time in here, working on my projects."

"To tell you the truth, I mostly go out at night, anyway."

One of them a young boy, and one of them a girl the same age.

"You mustn't be afraid of Boxtrolls, then."

"Absolutely not!"

"I've always wondered if they really were as much of monsters as people said. I've never SEEN them eat a human being, after all. I don't think anyone has. It's mostly talk."

They hadn't taken their eyes off each other since they'd begun conversing, and Archibald was beginning to realize exactly what it was he disliked about Marjorie Travis. It had to do with the way she was making Herbert smile.

"And what about you, Archibald?" Marjorie asked, suddenly realizing she was excluding one of the group. "Do you build things, too?"

"No," Archibald replied. "I don't. I've other concerns."

"Such as?"

"Helping to put my family's business on the map. A Snatcher is going to be the next to wear the White Hat, you know, whether it's my father or me."

"Archibald is actually a songwriter," Herbert broke in. "He's also quite deft with a sewing needle."

"Snatcher!" Marjorie realized. "That's where I've heard that name! You're the tailor's son! Your family does VERY good work, you know."

"And I'm responsible for quite a bit of that work," Archibald clarified.

"If they picked out White Hats based on their ability to make good clothing," Marjorie told him, "you'd certainly be in within the year! I think you even made some of these things we're washing!"

Archibald was about to thank Marjorie, but something in her tone and her words held him back. "What was that supposed to mean? White Hats are chosen based on the work they contribute to the town, and clothing is a staple of society."

"Oh, dear…" Marjorie said softly. "I'm afraid it's never been that way. My parents tried to tell me it was like that, too, but I've looked into the history of the White Hats, and as far back as they've been established, they've only been the wealthy and the sons of the wealthy. Oh, and never the daughters. Perhaps it's the greatest tragedy of our town. It's all just a great illusion to make us think they know what's best for this town, when really, they don't give a whit about the crumbling bridges or the fact that no one's yet built a hospital that will take children."

"You know NOTHING about the White Hats," Archibald snarled. "How could you? You're ONLY a girl."

"I'm a SMART girl," Marjorie snapped before immediately realizing her mistake, clapping both hands over her mouth. "I didn't mean to say you WEREN'T smart," she said through the skin of her hands.

"I think we should all take a step back – " Herbert began.

Archibald dropped the cloth he'd been washing right back into the tub. "I'll be back at the shop, finishing up some work I really should have been doing all day," he said, looking directly at Herbert. "I'll take the kite back home. Come by when you want to pick it up."

With that, he stormed out of the room and up the stairs.

There was a long silence before Marjorie lowered her hands from her mouth. "I'm sorry," she whimpered. "Though I suppose I'm saying it to the wrong person."

"I think you're quite smart," Herbert told Marjorie.

"For a girl?"

"For anyone. What you said about the White Hats is something I've suspected for a very long time. But becoming one of them has always been Archibald's dream, and I don't want to stand in the way of it. I've tried to convince him he doesn't need a White Hat to be happy. He's very smart and creative, quite like you…just in a different way. And the truth is, if he were a White Hat, he'd do more for this town than any of the lords ever have. I know it's a slim chance, but I think part of me believes he'll make his dream come true. And a bigger part of me truly WANTS him to."

"I really shouldn't have said a thing," Marjorie moaned.

"Oh, don't be sad!" Herbert said quickly. "You were right. You just said the right thing at the wrong time, is all."

"You're a good friend, Herbert," Marjorie said. "To him, and, well, I don't know if I can call you my friend just yet, but you're very kind to help me with the washing. Though…" She cracked a smile. "I think my parents are going to have a hard time believing you broke down the door all by yourself."

"We'll just tell them I'm stronger than I look!"

Herbert and Marjorie laughed, catching each other's eye and then immediately looking away.

"As to what you said about Boxtrolls, though…" Herbert began.

...

The next day, Amelia knocked on her son's bedroom door, waiting for a "Come in" before entering. "Young Master Trubshaw is here," she announced, "and he wants to know if you still have a kite."

Archibald cast aside the book he'd been reading, immediately fetching the kite from its resting place. A day out with Herbert would certainly make up for the misadventure of the day before –

"And he's brought a friend with him. Miss…Travis, I believe she said her name was."

Or not.

"Friends already, I suppose," Archibald muttered as his mother took her leave. "I already know where this is going. He wants all his friends to be able to be together, just like with those trolls. Well, perhaps she isn't so bad after all. We might've just gotten off on the wrong foot."

He carried the kite gently downstairs to find Marjorie trying on an ornate royal blue hat while Amelia and Herbert looked on. "This is BEAUTIFUL!" Marjorie gushed. "Absolutely beautiful, Mrs. Snatcher!"

"Why, thank you," Amelia replied, quite charmed.

"And it looks beautiful on you!" Herbert complimented.

It was a wonder Archibald didn't snap the kite frame in half over his knee then and there. He'd tried on that hat the previous night in order to take his mind off the first Marjorie Travis incident, and he'd thought it made him look simply gorgeous. He'd wondered, if Herbert saw him in it, if Herbert would think the same. And now Marjorie was showing it off in public – she could do that, of course, being a girl – and Herbert loved it.

Forcing a smile, Archibald walked the rest of the way down the stairs and made his presence known. "Miss Travis!" he greeted. "What a surprise!"

"Archibald!" Marjorie gasped. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry for yesterday. I didn't mean…" She quickly put the hat back in its resting place. "I didn't realize how much all that meant to you, and I shouldn't have said a thing."

"Water under the bridge, Miss Travis," Archibald told her. "Though I must ask what exactly you're doing here."

"That would be my fault," Herbert answered. "I thought it would be a good idea for all of us to do something other than chores together. First and most importantly of all, to mend fences. And second, well, I'm quite fond of both of you, and so I thought – "

Archibald put up a hand. "Say no more. This day belongs to the…three of us."

...

On the way down to the riverbank, Archibald mostly kept quiet, observing the interactions of Herbert and Marjorie. It had only been a day, after all. They couldn't be that close. Only barely friends. It wasn't as though he had anything to really worry about…not even the fact that a girl so infectiously bubbly as Herbert (though she didn't pull it off nearly as well) and sharing his biggest interest was getting so close to the boy Archibald loved.

It wasn't as though such a thing should matter, as Herbert had already stated that he wasn't the sort that could reciprocate those feelings to Archibald anyway.

"Are you all right?" Marjorie asked, falling into step alongside Archibald. "You've been awful quiet."

"Perfectly fine, Miss Travis," Archibald said smoothly.

"You can call me 'Marjorie,' you know," Marjorie encouraged.

"Duly noted."

"I wouldn't hold your breath waiting for him to use your given name," Herbert laughed.

The blue kite was raised to fly in the wind, which was quite breezy that day. Herbert held the string in place. "I do love that color," Marjorie said happily.

It was Archibald's other favorite color besides red; the one he felt he looked the absolute best in. He knew Herbert would tell Marjorie it was his idea if he didn't say anything, so he spoke up briefly: "Why, thank you, Miss Travis."

"Herbert said you two worked on this together," Marjorie brought up. "Did Fish and Shoe help you as well?"

That caught Archibald off guard. "As in…"

"The Boxtrolls," Marjorie said softly. "Herbert said you knew about them."

"I do know about them," Archibald replied, his voice gaining a slight edge. "I wasn't aware YOU would know about them after only a day."

"I'm introducing them all tonight," Herbert explained. "Marjorie understood right away when I said they weren't monsters. I knew she would believe me."

"As though I wouldn't have believed you for the first year we knew each other, Trubshaw?"

"We were younger," Herbert said softly. "I wasn't sure how to proceed."

So now Marjorie knew Herbert's biggest secret, and after but a day.

Archibald realized Herbert and Marjorie were both staring at him in wary anticipation. "I'm not about to storm off," he sighed. "It just came as a surprise, that's all. Best forget about it. I do hope you enjoy meeting Trubshaw's troll friends, Miss Travis."

He hoped this would be the night Fish actually did decide he had a taste for human blood and would devour Marjorie right in front of Herbert's eyes.

But as the three spent more time together beneath the kite, soon they fell into conversation, and the afternoon became almost pleasant.

...

After that, Herbert, Archibald, and Marjorie became somewhat of a trio for a short time. Archibald tried his very best to stomach Marjorie and her proximity to Herbert. After all, he didn't have any confirmation that there was anything between them, and Herbert would be the sort to become friends with a woman without the thought of romance between them. Still, she only made Archibald more and more annoyed, and he did his absolute best to join her and Herbert on all of their excursions – testing out the vehicle and watching it break down for what seemed like the millionth time, walking lazily along the banks of the river, sledding once the first snow came – simply so that she and Herbert would not have much time to themselves, where Archibald couldn't keep an eye on them.

But Herbert grew perceptive, and while he wasn't sure exactly why Archibald was so uncomfortable with Marjorie, he figured out quickly that he was, and suggested that he spend time with each of them separately.

"It's a shame that Master Trubshaw doesn't bring Miss Travis around the house anymore these days," Amelia remarked. "You know, Archibald…I had rather thought you and she might make a cute couple."

That had only caused Archibald to literally flip a chair over end on his way storming out of the room. Amelia wasn't sure what she'd said wrong; didn't her son see the appeal in a nice girl like that? But she refrained from discussing Marjorie in such a manner in the future.

Christmas came, and Herbert and Archibald had set aside that day for themselves, swapping gifts before heading down to the river with their skates, as they had done for the past three years. There was a difference this year, however. Herbert seemed to only want to talk about one thing.

"And then she told me the funniest joke," Herbert bubbled as he laced his skates. "Do you want to hear it?"

"Not particularly," Archibald grunted.

Herbert only then seemed to realize he'd been going on about Marjorie for the past hour with very little of a break. "I'm sorry. I keep forgetting."

"Forgetting what?"

"That you and Marjorie don't quite get on." He paused. "Why don't you get on, anyhow?"

"What do you mean? We get on quite well."

"Don't lie to me, Archibald," Herbert sighed. "I could tell you weren't comfortable with her. That's why I thought it would be better if I spent different days with each of you. Did she do something to offend you?"

"Nothing of the sort, Trubshaw."

"Then what is it? You know you can tell me anything."

Instead of giving Herbert an answer, Archibald returned a question: "Do you fancy Miss Travis?"

"What?" Herbert went immediately red.

"Don't YOU lie to ME, Trubshaw. You always get daft and giggly around her, and there's this sparkle in your eyes whenever you talk about her."

"Well, I…" Herbert lowered his voice. "I actually do fancy her ever so slightly. I haven't wanted to bring it up because…well, I haven't wanted to rush it. She is, first and foremost, my friend, and I don't want to put that bond in danger." Realization kicked in. "Is that what it is? Are you afraid our friendship will fall apart if someone like that comes into my life?"

"The word isn't 'afraid,'" Archibald sighed, "but otherwise, that's a fairly accurate description of the situation."

"Archibald," Herbert said sternly, "you've been my oldest and dearest friend, and I can't imagine what it would take to change that. Even if Marjorie and I become married, I will never forget or neglect you. I don't want to lose you, and I certainly don't want to hurt you. And if I come close to doing either, promise me you'll tell me."

"I will."

"I'm sorry if I've been doing that already, Archibald. It's just…when you fancy someone, you lose sight of a lot of other important things, sometimes."

Archibald very nearly said "I know" before realizing he couldn't pin such deep sympathy on his brief experience falling for Charles Portley-Rind. He tied the last of his skate laces, standing up on the ice and extending a hand downward to Herbert. "Let's just skate, shall we?"

"Of course!" Herbert let Archibald pull him to his feet before gliding along on his own. "I think I've finally mastered the art!"

They were on their own for a few precious moments. Then a speeding force came gliding across the ice to collide with Herbert, knocking him to the ground. "SORRY!" the interloper cried. "I'm sorry, I'm – Herbert?"

No. It couldn't be, Archibald thought. It wasn't.

But of course, it was.

"Marjorie!" Herbert replied as he disentangled himself from the girl. "I didn't realize you'd be here!"

"I didn't realize YOU'D be here!"

"Archibald and I come here every year," Herbert explained, getting to his feet. "Have you been coming here all these years?"

"This is my first year," Marjorie explained, propping herself up on her knees. "The first time I've ever tried skating, actually. I thought it couldn't be that hard. It's all about the principles of balance and center of gravity." She tried to stand, but wobbled.

Herbert immediately extended a hand to her, and she gratefully took it, letting him help her up. Almost instantly, Herbert regretted making the physical contact, thinking perhaps he'd overstepped his boundaries again. "It's good to see you, Marjorie, but we'll have to catch up some other time. This is Archibald's and my special time together. It's our tradition."

"I understand," Marjorie said sincerely. "You two go have fun. I've got my hands full trying to figure out these skates."

Archibald wasted no time in gliding away from Marjorie, and Herbert followed. "This day is about you and me," Herbert promised. "And nothing will change that."

A sudden high-pitched yelp alerted the boys to the fact that Marjorie had fallen over yet again. Herbert and Archibald turned to see her sprawled out on the ice.

"…Go to her," Archibald sighed.

"No!" Herbert protested. "When I said this was our day, I meant it!"

"Look at her," Archibald argued. "She needs someone to show her the ropes. And you're quite right. You have mastered the art of skating beyond what I can teach. But most of all…you fancy her. Go be with her."

"Are you…entirely certain?" Herbert asked cautiously.

"Very certain."

In truth, Archibald just knew that he, Herbert, and Marjorie couldn't share the same lake without Herbert wanting to watch Marjorie and wishing he could help her with her balance problems the entire time. No matter what Herbert promised, Archibald was convinced that Marjorie would still get in the way. He'd had his suspicions confirmed; Herbert was smitten.

"I promise I'll make it up to you," Herbert told Archibald as he skated toward Marjorie.

Archibald simply smiled and waved…until Herbert turned away. Archibald's smile quickly inverted, and he scowled as he watched Herbert help Marjorie up, watched him take her hands and skate backward as she skated forward, keeping her from falling. As though Archibald hadn't given Herbert all the skating skill he had. As though he hadn't done so in much closer proximity.

He glided to the edge of the river, replaced his shoes, and went home.

Entering his room, he sighed, "Framley, absolutely everything is going wrong."

There was absolutely no sound from the cage at the other end of the room: not a click, not a squeak.

Archibald's heart skipped a beat as he rushed to the cage to see the worst: Framley's dead body lay still in the cage's center. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. Three years was a surprisingly long life for a rat.

Archibald's scowl returned in greater force. "Never mind," he muttered. "Never mind it, never mind Trubshaw, never mind Miss Travis, and never mind YOU. It wasn't as though you were ever going to amount to anything. You were always just a lowly, stupid RAT."