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      Smiling, Elsie took the food. She tore a crust of bread into halves, and handed a piece back to the lady. Both were touched by the kindness of the other.

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      Elsie devoured her half greedily. It was only bread and dripping, but to her it was the nectar of the gods.

      “Where’s your mum and dad, little one?”

      “Dunno. Never met them.”

      “Orphan, then, are you?”

      “Suppose so.”

      “Poor thing.”

      “There’s no point feeling sorry for meself. I gotta get on with it.”

      At that moment, they both heard bootsteps image down the corridor.

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      The lady lifted her finger to her lips to mime “Don’t say a word” and hurriedly shut the door.

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      Elsie stayed as still and quiet as she possibly could in the cleaning cupboard. Through the door, she could hear the grown-ups arguing.

      “WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO, DOTTY?” boomed a voice.

      “Just me mops and brushes, Mr Clout, sir,” replied Dotty.

      “A likely story, Dotty!” the man scoffed. “As the museum’s head of security, I order you to open that door!”

      “I can’t.”

      “What do you mean, you can’t?”

      “Me hands have gone all floppy.”

      “What do you mean your hands ‘have gone all floppy’?”

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      “Too much mopping!”

      “Well, I’ll open it, then.”

      “I wouldn’t if I was you.”

      “Why?”

      “I just blew off in there.”

      “You did what?”

      “I did a bottom burp in the cupboard so all the stuffed animals wouldn’t have to smell it. It’s a really stinky one. It would have peeled the paint off the walls.”

      “That doesn’t explain why you were talking.”

      “I was talking to my own bottom.”

      “You were talking to your bottom?”

      “Giving it a jolly good telling-off, Mr Clout, sir.”

      Elsie had to put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing. This lady really was dotty.

      “I have never heard so much nonsense in all my life!” thundered Clout. “Now step aside, woman, or I will be forced to use… force!”

      The girl heard a slight scuffle.

      “OOF!”

      “OUCH!”

      “GET OFF ME FOOT!”

      As fast as she could, Elsie nestled herself in behind the mops and brushes.

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      Clout peered inside the dark and dingy cleaning cupboard. His hulking frame all but filled up the doorway. He had huge hobnailed boots on his feet, so polished you could eat your dinner off them. The man covered his nose.

      “It don’t half reek in here!”

      That was Elsie’s pong.

      “Tell it to my bottom,” replied Dotty.

      Just then, something caught the man’s eye among the mops and brushes.

      “What’s this?” he said, pointing at the girl’s hair poking out.

      “That?” asked Dotty innocently.

      “Yes, that.”

      “Oh, that! That is one of my new real-hair mops.”

      “Real-hair mops?” asked Clout.

      “Yes. It’s great for those areas me everyday mops can’t reach. Like between the dinosaurs’ toe bones.”

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      “I don’t think I can bear that stink a moment longer,” said the man, his eyes watering.

      “I did warn you, Mr Clout, sir. Me blow-offs are really something.”

      “They should have their own museum,” mused Clout. “THE UNNatural History Museum.”

      “Very good, Mr Clout, sir,” she said as she slammed the door shut. “It’s always lovely talking to you, but, if you will excuse me, I need to give the dodo eggs a good spit and polish.”

      “Dotty?”

      “Yes?”

      “You need to get something for that bottom of yours.”

      “I’ll invest in a cork.”

      “Then we’ll all have to wear tin helmets in case you pop.”

      “That’s a good point, Mr Clout. I’ll try and think of something!”

      “Get to work!”

      “You get to work!”

      “I can’t get to work until you get to work.”

      “Well, you tellin’ me to get to work is stopping me from getting to work.”

      “GET TO WORK!” thundered the man.

      Dotty picked up her mop, and began cleaning the floor. On purpose, she ran the dirty mop over his highly polished hobnailed boots.

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      “Me boots!” he cried.

      “OOPS! Sorry!”

      “Stupid old hag!”

      “Less of the ‘old’, please, Mr Clout.”

      “I need to get these boots sparkling for the visitors.”

      “Yes, that’s why they all come to the Natural History Museum, Mr Clout, sir. They don’t come to see the dinosaur bones. They just want to see their own face reflected in your boots. You better buff ’em up, good and proper.”

      Clout gave the cleaning lady a filthy look before marching off down the corridor to make someone else’s life a misery.

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      After a few moments, Dotty opened the cupboard door.

      “Phew!”

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