Mable held firm and did not turn to look at Francis, even as he stepped into the water.  She didn't answer his question, just listened to him speak.  She didn't at all blame the people who threw stones at him.  She would too right now, if she had any.

"You don't know anything," she hissed.  "We've already lived that life.  Didn't Edmund tell you that?  Where we came from, what we've gone through?  He's such a liar.  My brother was not a liar, and his name was not Edmund Reynolds."

He's sure if he heard her now, Edmund would throw a fit.  Here she was, spilling all their secrets to his friend.  Puh!  She didn't care.  She never liked to lie in the first place.

"Alright. I don't know anything. You're such a smart girl, educate me then. So I know what a liar he is and how much of a not liar your brother was."

When she mentioned his name wasn't that, he became curious. This was a deep hole he was stepping into. "I take it then that you aren't Mable? Does any of this have to do with why he hates the water?" He might as well ask more while he was here.

Mable was a little surprised when Francis didn't snap back or say anything else to try to convince her to move, and instead asked questions.  She eyed him suspiciously.

She had been told not to answer any questions at all, if she could help it.  But it was Edmund that told her that.

"I'm Mable!  My name is Mable - Mable Winifred Greene."  It had been months since she declared such out loud to another person.  "My name is Mable Greene," she said again, just because it felt so good to do so.

"And that boy - Edmund, he doesn't like the water because he gets sea sick.  We were on a ship for nearly a month sailing here from New York."  It was probably longer, but Mable hadn't kept track.

"And he's a big fat liar because he told you his name was Edmund, and you believed him.  Edmund is not my brother's name.  Frankly, Edmund is an ugly name and I have never liked it, never, not even once."

"Well Mable Greene is a beautiful name. No wonder you're so proud of it. And I can't fault this Edmund guy for hating the water if it made him sick for weeks."

He didn't glance in her direction, instead he kept watching the horizon. "So tell me what your brothers name was? I like Edmund alright, but I bet the other name is way better. And why would he change it? Do you know? " he finally looked at her. "You answer my question and I'm willing to answer any questions of yours."

Mable was quiet for a moment, as if considering that question, whether or not to answer it.

She knew she shouldn't.  But she was so angry, and so sad, and so far from her home.

"His name was October," she said, so quiet that the waves would have drowned it out if Francis had not been so close to her.  "But he was always called Toby.  He changed it 'cause..."

What had he told her again, all those months ago?

"Because he thought we were in danger.  That some debtors would try and track us down, make us pay up since - since our father passed.  That's why we came to England.  But I don't think all that's true."

Her hand lifted out of the water and dances across its surface, causing ripples in the waves.

"Did you get him drunk last night?"

Francis nodded along, "I agree those are very nice names."
That was suspicious but he shrugged. "I guess it would depend. He'd have had to owe them quite a lot. Hopefully your brother or this not brother is only doing it for a little while. Laying low as we scoundrels call it." He offered her a smile and noticed her playing with the water.

He looked away at the question. "I met him because he was looking to drink. And I used half of his coins to drink myself since I had no money. I honestly didn't know he'd get drunk so quickly. But I ask you to be gentle about it. Some people drink to celebrate or they consider it fun with friends. But most people drink because something is wrong and we want to forget it for just a little while. Usually because we don't have answers yet how to fix it. Some people never find the answers." He shrugged helplessly.

Scoundrels.  Francis thought of her and her not-brother as he's been calling him, as scoundrels.  She burned with the instinct to defend, but swallowed it to let him speak.

"No," she said immediately.  "No, I won't be gentle about it.  If - if - if something is wrong, it's his own fault!  It's his own fault, and he should have to deal with it, not - not run away and try to forget about it."

It wasn't a fair thing to say, but Mable didn't care.  There were countless things both her and Edmund would be better off forgetting that was no one's fault except circumstance.  Maybe their father, maybe Mable's mother, maybe Edmund's.  But not theirs.  Very rarely was it theirs.

"And he won't let me help him.  He's a liar, and he keep secrets from me, and he wont - he won't let me in.  He's mean and bossy and cold to me, and what am I supposed to do?"

Francis shrugged. She was saying a few things that were hard not to take personally. "That makes him a coward. Doesn't mean he's a terrible person. Some people are weak and we need good, strong people at our side. "

He gestured to her and seemed uncertain. "You love your brother? He loves you. He wants to protect you so he's trying to keep you out so you don't see how scared he's probably been. And he thought lying would save you from a very painful truth. Whatever it is. Sometimes adults stubbornly think only they can come up with answers. But he does need you. And I know you don't know me and don't like you, but I can try to help get him to listen and actually talk to you if you'd like? I saw how he acted last night and I saw some things. If you can try a little harder to talk to him more and be strong. I will do all I can to get him to give in and talk to you. If you will let me." He said though wasn't sure it would work.

Mable turned and looked at Francis for a long moment, really considering him.  He was right that she didn't like him, and she probably never would, but if what Edmund said was true, and he was his friend, then there must be something good about him, even if she didn't see it.

"He's stubborn as a mule," she warned.  "And he's sensitive.  And stupid!  So if I hear a thing about you trying to - to take advantage of him, or hurt him, I'll really make you regret it.  But if you really want to help me, and help him, I'd really like that."

Francis met her eyes, then he smiled when she spoke.

"It's alright, I've met stubborn many times. And I'm sensitive too. And I am so so stupid! We get along well and I don't want to hurt him or you. I want to help though I don't know how. But I'm quite certain as soon as you two change your fortune around and get things settled, he'll forget about me. That'll be good for you, right?"