text: [Themes: Historical, house setting, child protagonist, escape]
  
  > Go downwards
  Crumbs, it looks like Morris is back, propped right up against the tradesman's door with a bottle of the demon drink. He'll give you a good whipping for trespassing if he catches you here, so you'd best keep your distance. Besides, the alcohol fumes coming off him would do you in for sure.
  
  > listen to the snoring
  It sounds as though Morris is back, and dead drunk. You don't want to get too close to him when he's like this.
  
  > Inventory
  You are carrying:
  an elaborate poppy centrepiece
  a walking stick
  the master key
  a Bible
  two pages of a scandalous letter
  
  > examine the poppy
  This centrepiece is beginning to get a little old and dry. Poppies and leaves stick out all over like bristles on a brush, and the ribbons holding it together are looking droopy.
  
  > eat the poppy
  That's plainly inedible.
  
  > Smell the poppy
  There's still the very faint smell of the fields and hedgerows about the poppies, but otherwise it's mostly just dry grass.
  
  > tie the flowers to stick
  You firmly affix the centrepiece to the head of the walking stick, using as many of its own ribbons as you can get your hands on.
  
  > check your inventory
  You are carrying:
  a walking stick (with flower centrepiece attached)
  the master key
  a Bible
  two pages of a scandalous letter
  
  > examine the stick
  Uncle Stephen has taken to long walks over the hills, and as a consequence has gotten himself a walking stick that's really more of a staff, it's so long and sturdy. There's a bristly flower centrepiece attached to one end, like the head of a brush, which makes it look exceedingly silly.
  
  > Sweep fireplace
  You thrust the flowery end of the walking stick up into the flue, and are rewarded with a sudden explosion of soot ... and the sounds of Aunt Emma and Uncle Stephen's consternation at a corresponding explosion of soot on the other side. Not long after, you hear them both hurrying up the stairs to get themselves cleaned off and changed.
  
  > go to the south
  With Aunt Emma and Uncle Stephen otherwise occupied, you quickly open the front door (it creaks like the blazes) and slip outside into the warm, summer sunshine. You're going to be in a world of trouble when you get back, but for the moment there is nothing but you, the summer, and the wonders of God's green earth.
  
  > Go west
  The parlour is Aunt Emma's domain, and is wonderfully comfortable and cosy on cold winter nights, especially when there's a fire going in the fireplace. On warm summer afternoons, however, it gets stiflingly claustrophobic. Escape seems most likely either east into the hall or north into the dining room.
  
  An armchair, which years of visits have accustomed you to thinking of as "your" armchair, is positioned near the fireplace.
  
  On the mantel are a flower saucer, a ship painting, a black falcon, a glass unicorn and a duelling pistol, all half hidden in a crowd of other little ornaments.
  
  From her portrait above the fireplace mantel, Queen Victoria gazes benignly down on the room.
  
  Aunt Emma sits by the window, staring off into the distance.
  
  > Fuck
  If anyone heard you, they'd want to know where you learned such terrible language. And then Morris would be in terrible trouble, and you don't want that.
  
  > Drat
  Quite.
  
  Aunt Emma sighs and finally looks around. When she sees you out of your seat, she frowns and rises, and grabs you by the ear. "What have you been up to, Hector? It's the Lord's day: do try to behave yourself this one day of the week! Now please, sit down." She hauls you back into your seat.
  
  > Damn
  You shouldn't say such things unless you mean it. And you should never mean such things, ever.
  
  > ask Emma about the army
  "A uniform adds a good deal of dash to a character, I'm sure, and the discipline is much to be recommended." Aunt Emma pauses for just a little too long before going on. "All the same, I cannot say I am at all pleased with the reasons for armies to exist in the first
  place. However you look at it, war is an absolutely dreadful business."
  
  > ask Emma about the army
  "A uniform adds a good deal of dash to a character, I'm sure, and the discipline is much to be recommended." Aunt Emma pauses for just a little too long before going on. "All the same, I cannot say I am at all pleased with the reasons for armies to exist in the first
  place. However you look at it, war is an absolutely dreadful business."
  
  "Oh for pity's sake...!"
  
  July, 1916
  
  Getting the other fellows to join in on this story-telling lark seemed like a good idea at the time. It was better than yet another game of cards, anyway, and it rather took the mind off who is or is not going to be at mess in the morning.
  
  It's a little terrifying how accustomed you've gotten to this muddy, grimy hell-hole. You could probably find your way back here in the dark, crawling blind through a maze of twisty trenches, all alike.
  
  Anderson was doodling on an old letter of recommendation earlier, and seems to have forgotten about it.
  
  You can also see Anderson, Jellicoe, Hardy and Macdougal here.
  
  Anderson glares at his batman. "How many times are you going to ask her about that, Macdougal?"
  
  "I think Macdougal just likes hearing the Major talk about how war is such a dreadful business," says Hardy with a look of amusement.
  
  "Well, it's getting tiresome," snaps Anderson, still glaring at poor Macdougal.
  
  > kill anderson
  Violence is the answer to a lot of things, but this isn't one of them.
  
  "It's clear she's got nothing else to say on the subject," reasons Jellicoe, "and anyway the story isn't about war or the army or anything like that, is it?"
  
  You shake your head in agreement. This was supposed to be a diversion into a more innocent time.
  
  > Xyzzy
  MacDougal flashes you a knowing smile, but says nothing.
  
  Macdougal has the grace to look sheepish. "Sorry, sir," he mumbles. "I won't do it again."
  
  "Good. Let's move on."
  
  "Agreed."
  
  Parlour (in the armchair)
  The parlour is Aunt Emma's domain, and is wonderfully comfortable and cosy on cold winter nights, especially when there's a fire going in the fireplace. On warm summer afternoons, however, it gets stiflingly claustrophobic.
  
  You are ensconced in an armchair near the fireplace. Escape seems most likely either east into the hall or north into the dining room.
  
  On the mantel are a flower saucer, a ship painting, a black falcon, a glass unicorn and a duelling pistol, all half hidden in a crowd of other little ornaments.
  
  From her portrait above the fireplace mantel, Queen Victoria gazes benignly down on the room.
  
  Aunt Emma sits by the window, dutifully reading her Bible.
  
  In the armchair you can see Uncle Stephen's latest sermon.
  
  Goodness. What just happened there?
  
  > ask Emma about the army
  "It is certainly a respectable career choice, Macdougal." For some reason you can't quite name, you feel reluctant to press the issue further. Nor are you sure why she just called you "Macdougal".
  
  > ask Emma about the army
  "It is certainly a respectable career choice, Hector." For some reason you can't quite name, you feel reluctant to press the issue further.
  
  > look at the kitty
  A white porcelain cat, with a red bow perched on one side of its head. Rather disturbingly, it has no mouth.
  
  > look at the gnomon
  It's triangular and made of brass, with a screwy end where it's supposed to screw into a sundial somewhere.
  
  > Fidget
  "Don't fidget, Hector," says Aunt Emma. "It's unbecoming."
  
  > ask Stephen about the llew
  Uncle Stephen wouldn't have anything interesting to say about that, surely; at least, nothing that you would find interesting.
  
  "Hector...!"
  
  Crumbs! Aunt Emma bears down on you like the wrath of Achilles but stops in surprise when she sees the folder of Uncle Stephen's old sermons in your hands. "Oh!" she says. "Oh ... are those your Uncle Stephen's old sermons? So that's what you were after! You should have just said so. I see I should have trusted you enough to know you could not possibly mean any mischief when you leave your seat."
  
  She actually smiles and pats you on the head. On the bright side, it looks as though she doesn't mind you wandering around any more, since she makes no further attempt to usher you into your chair.
  
  > ask Stephen about the gronw
  Uncle Stephen looks inexplicably alarmed. "We'll have none of that talk here," he says sharply.
  
  > ask Stephen about the llew
  Uncle Stephen wouldn't have anything interesting to say about that, surely; at least, nothing that you would find interesting.
  
  Uncle Stephen begins to nod drowsily. In a few moments, his pipe droops down onto his chest and he lets out a tiny little snore.
  
  > ask Stephen about bloduwedd
  Uncle Stephen stirs and looks bemusedly at you. "Eh? I'm awake.
  What is it, Hector?"
  
  > wear the flowers
  (first taking the elaborate flower centrepiece)
  You hold the elaborate flower centrepiece over your head and pretend for a moment that you're a victorious athlete at the Olympic Games in ancient Greece.
  
  > wear the flowers
  You hold the elaborate flower centrepiece over your head and pretend for a moment that it's a halo, your eternal reward for the dreadful trial of sitting through one of Uncle Stephen's interminable sermons.
  
  > wear the flowers
  You hold the elaborate flower centrepiece over your head and pretend for a moment that it's a magic holly wreath that gives you the power of invisibility.
  
  > wear the flowers
  You hold the elaborate flower centrepiece over your head and pretend for a moment that you're an ancient Irish druid.
  
  > Go south
  As you approach the front door, you hear Aunt Emma call out to you, "Hector, you're not planning on leaving the house, are you? Please don't."
  
  "This is a little bit ridiculous, don't you think?"
  
  July, 1916
  
  Getting the other fellows to join in on this story-telling lark seemed like a good idea at the time. It was better than yet another game of cards, anyway, and it rather took the mind off who is or is not going to be at mess in the morning.
  
  It's a little terrifying how accustomed you've gotten to this muddy, grimy hell-hole. You could probably find your way back here in the dark, crawling blind through a maze of twisty trenches, all alike.
  
  You can see Anderson, Jellicoe, Hardy and Macdougal here.
  
  Hardy folds his arms. "I really don't see why we can't just open the door and make a run for it."
  
  "Don't be absurd," says Jellicoe, "we'd be in terrible trouble if we did that."
  
  > Fuck
  Quite.
  
  "We'd be in trouble anyway, if we ever got out of the house," reasons Hardy, not budging. "Which is the point of this little story, isn't it? Getting out of the house?"
  
  "But then we'd have both the aunt and the uncle chasing after us," says Macdougal thoughtfully, "and we'd have to try and find a hiding spot before they catch us, and then we wouldn't be able to enjoy the afternoon because we'd always be looking over our shoulder."
  
  > Darn
  Seriously? Your sainted Aunt Emma could do better.
  
  Anderson nods. "What we need is a head start. It would also help if no-one knew which direction we ran off in. Isn't that right, Conrad?"
  
  You nod, not wanting to admit that it had never occurred to you to directly defy Aunt Emma, as per Hardy's suggestion. You were just so used to Aunt Emma's authority that the sound of her voice alone was enough to make you stop in your tracks.
  
  Hardy rolls his eyes. "Fine. Clearly you know what's what better than I do. Let's get back to the story."
  
  Bright sunlight shines through the sidelights of the front door, to the south. The rest of the hall is dull and muted, with heavy wood panelling. Aunt Emma's parlour is to the west, Uncle Stephen's study is to the east, and the dining room is to the northwest. A small, unobtrusive door behind the stairs goes northeast to the servant areas, and then there's the hall closet.
  
  Goodness. Was that a dream?
  
  > examine the ornaments
  Absolutely everything has some sort of sentimental value. It boggles the mind how any one person can have this much sentiment.
  
  Among the many souvenirs of ancient history, you spot a duelling pistol. That doesn't look like the sort of thing boring people like Aunt Emma or Uncle Stephen (or, let's face it, anyone in your whole family) are likely to keep around the house!
  
  > examine the ornaments
  Absolutely everything has some sort of sentimental value. It boggles the mind how any one person can have this much sentiment.
  
  Sunlight glints off a glass unicorn. Now that's more the sort of pointless ornament you'd expect to find in Aunt Emma's collection.
  
  > examine the ornaments
  Absolutely everything has some sort of sentimental value. It boggles the mind how any one person can have this much sentiment.
  
  You spot a statuette of a black falcon in the midst of all the clutter.
  
  > examine the ornaments
  Absolutely everything has some sort of sentimental value. It boggles the mind how any one person can have this much sentiment.
  
  Here's something that's not so bad: a painting of a ship sailing into the sunrise. Or sunset. One of the two.
  
  > look at the mantle
  It's one of those extraordinarily sturdy oak affairs. Every time you visit, it looks as though it could not possibly hold even one more little ornament without collapsing; and yet, every time you visit, it looks as though Aunt Emma has managed to fit one more thing on it.
  
  On the mantel are a displaced gnomon, a snake locket, a white cat, a wooden goblet, an owl saucer, a ship painting, a black falcon, a glass unicorn and a duelling pistol, all half hidden in a crowd of other little ornaments.
  
  > ask about the unicorn
  "That used to be part of a much larger glass menagerie," says Aunt Emma, "but, well, the less said about that the better."
  
  > ask about the falcon
  Aunt Emma seems to hesitate. "An ... old friend picked that up years ago when he was in Malta, and brought it back as present."
  
  You're sure you hear Aunt Emma say something about "dear old Captain Davis..." as she turns back to her Bible.
  
  > Wait
  Time passes.
  
  > ask Emma about the cat
  "Charming, is it not? I always imagine it's saying hello to me when I come into the parlour in the mornings." But how can it, when it has no mouth?
  
  > ask Emma about locket
  "That thing was in the house when we moved in, and we've never been able to track down the owners. Well. I suppose we're duty-bound to hold on to it until its true owner shows up."