"Why do I have to have all the responsibilities of a grown man?" Cogsworth complained. "I have to oversee all the other children! Isn't that what their parents are getting paid for?"
"I know it's hard," Mrs. Potts consoled. "Everyone should have a normal childhood."
"I don't like being the whipping boy! It's humiliating! Even worse, it hurts!"
Lumière nodded sadly. "Yes, Prince Adam is indeed a real pain in…"
"Lumière!" Mrs. Potts scolded.
"The neck," he finished.
She sat down and held out her arms, and the two boys came over and sat on her lap to hear a story. Mrs. Potts always has had a knack for telling stories, and she does love children.
I felt bad for Cogsworth. After all, Lumière loved nothing more than a rousing game of "Try to Run Away From the Castle Rather Than Being the Prince's Servant a Moment Longer." Cogsworth frequently had to rescue his friend from wandering aimlessly through the forest.
Even as children, the two had a strange friendship. They quarreled most of the time, but anyone could tell they were close friends. After all, they complemented each other well. Cogsworth adhered carefully to the rules, whereas Lumière could be irresponsible at times, but Lumière was gracious and hospitable, two qualities Cogsworth often lacked. Neither could have handled his job alone, but they were an excellent team.
"What does the seaside look like?" Cogsworth queried. "I've always wanted to go."
Mrs. Potts described the golden sand kissed by the azure waves while gulls swooped overhead, their lamenting cries carried by the wind.
"When I retire, I want to go to the seaside," Cogsworth remarked.
Mrs. Potts chuckled. "You've got a long way to go until then."
The youngest Potts girl wandered into the room with a loaf of bread and a book.
"Where are you going, Lydia?" her mother queried.
"To play with my imaginary friends!" she answered.
"Take one of your brothers or sisters with you, and don't stay out too long."
Catherine, the eldest daughter, was summoned to take Lydia into the forest. The Potts family was rather unusual: Even though she had birthed many children, Mrs. Potts also adopted any noble or peasant orphan she encountered. As a result, the youngest son, Charles, was the twelfth Potts child.
Recently, Lydia had been taking walks in the forest, insisting that there were other children there. After questioning her daughter, Mrs. Potts had concluded that these must be Lydia's imaginary friends. When the other Potts children also described seeing these people, Mrs. Potts simply dismissed it as the vivid creativity of the imaginations of children.
Cogsworth hardly approved. He had enough trouble keeping an eye on the other children of the castle without the presence of imaginary children in the forest. Taking Lumière aside, he explained his plan: They would follow the Potts children and determine once and for all why they kept describing waifs of the woodlands.
Upon arrival at a clearing, Cogsworth was startled. There lay two children, protected from the bitter cold by a crude shelter made of snow.
"I brought it." Catherine Potts produced a few needles and a spool of thread from the folds of her cloak. "Are you sure you don't need a physician? If you won't see a doctor, will you at least see Mama?"
"Too risky," one of the children answered. "If the prince discovers our existence, he'll end it. We risked entering the castle once. I have no intention of tempting fate again."
"I've seen you before!" Cogsworth remarked. "You're the beggar children who hunt wild boars on foot!"
"I'm no longer a child!" the boy remarked proudly. "See my face? You can tell where my beard is going to be!"
His sister shook her head. "Even babies have very tiny hairs on their faces! You won't be getting your beard until after your voice starts to break!"
Catherine Potts took a bottle of wine from the basket she had been carrying. She was nervous, and rightfully so. Mrs. Potts was a kindred spirit, but she did believe in teaching her children that there were consequences for their actions. If she had caught any of her young children with wine, she would have punctuated their scolding with a wooden spoon.
The girl pushed up her sleeve, revealing a gash on her arm. Without so much as changing her facial expression, she applied pressure near the wound, causing it to suppurate. Still completely stoic and silent, she poured wine onto the cut, quickly making a couple stitches before wrapping it in a bit of cloth for a bandage.
Despite the ghastly horror of her injury, her brother's was worse. He actually had to use a needle to fish out some manner of impaled object from the wound on his calf, but like his sister, he tended his own wound without once showing even the slightest sign of pain.
"I brought you some bread," Lydia Potts remarked.
The girl nearly smiled. "Thank you, dear."
"You have names?"
She shook her head. "We never give our names. It's better that way. Prevents any information from being spilled during interrogation."
Cogsworth groaned. "You know what the master will do if he finds them out here!"
"How's he going to find us?" the boy asked. "He's too afraid of the forest to come out here!" He sighed. "The most gorgeous place in the world, and he's afraid to enjoy it. If this were my forest…!"
"It's not your forest," the girl reminded him.
Without another word, they turned and began walking away.
"Wait!" Catherine called after them.
They turned, silently asking what she wanted.
"Here. Take my gloves. My shoes too. They're about your size."
Moved by her generosity, Lumière also offered his gloves and shoes. The waifs thanked them and eagerly donned their new gifts before hurrying away.
"Nothing good will come of this," Cogsworth remarked. "These children are probably in the forest more than in their own home, wherever it may be. They occasionally become so desperate that they sneak into the castle. When Prince Adam finds out, it will be a fight to the finish."