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Rated: E · Chapter · Children's · #1184811
Chapter 4 of the story. pls r&r. thanks.

Sebastian was delighted to see his mysterious guest at his doorstep. "Nice to see you again, Bridget." He answered. Bridget looked around and spotted a coat rack. She looked up at Sebastian hopefully. "May I come in?"
"I'd be honored if you do."
Bridget took off her hat and fur coat and propped it properly on the rack. Her eyes fell on the piano. "Would you like me to play again?" Sebastian asked, trying to read her face. "Not today," Bridget decided quietly. Sebastian knelt down again to gaze at her fair complexion. "I have some cake in the kitchen, if you like."
Bridget considered this, and then accepted the invitation, nodding.

"Would you like some juice? Chocolate milk, maybe?" Sebastian asked over his shoulder as he opened the refrigerator. Bridget was cutting her slice of mocha cake into little squares. "Do you have tea?" she asked. Sebastian frowned. Since when do seven-year-olds have such refined taste for tea? "I'm afraid I don't."
"Chocolate milk, please."
Sebastian poured her a glass and promptly sat down across her.

"My Aunt Perdita is at my house today." Bridget piped after a sip of chocolate milk. "Oh really? Why aren't you home then, if you don't mind my asking?" Sebastian asked in genuine curiousity. "I don't want to." the golden-haired child replied.
"Why not?"
"Aunt Perdita is a cow."
Sebastian coughed, nearly choking on his cake. He reached for the table napkin, covering his mouth until he swallowed. He heaved a sigh of relief.
"Certainly, her weight won't really define her personality." Sebastian suggested. "Of course not." Bridget sniffed, taking a square piece of cake to her lips. "Aunt Perdita is as skinny as a toothpick you could use her to poke the fireplace."
"So what's with the cow thing?"
"Because she pretends to care about Mommy so she could inherit half the family fortune."
"Perhaps you're-"
"I know because she told me." Bridget muttered with a tone of conviction.

Sebastian pondered over her statement, picturing Aunt Perdita as a villainess with a cloak and a sinister cackle. He glanced at Bridget's downcast eyes, her long lashes casting a shadow over her cheeks. He didn't know how to console a child whose emotions were locked away in her lost childhood.
"Aunt Perdita's children are nasty little brats who only want things their way." Bridget added. "Your cousins, you mean?" Sebastian replied.
Bridget did not answer, her deep green eyes staring at Sebastian Cook. She finished her cake and drank every last drop of chocolate milk. "What's your job?" she asked out of the blue.
"I'm a music teacher."
"Piano teacher?"
" I also teach violin, guitar, flute and drums."
"Can you teach me how to play the piano?"
"I don't see why not."
Bridget gazed at the kitchen window and sighed. "I have to go home now."
"What about your aunt?"
"She's probably left the house by now."
"Let me walk you home," Sebastian offered. "I won't sleep in peace knowing I've let a little girl out at night alone."
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