Molly de-materialised and appeared in front of him. “Beggin' your pardon, sir, but I don't think that's an appropriate action with which to involve a child. What does her mother say about it?”
“Gillian is currently fighting the monster to prevent it from destroying the house and all of us with it, including you, Molly. Do I have to speculate on what happens if the house is torn down and your bones exposed?”
If it was possible for a ghost to go pale, she would have done. Much as he felt bad about it, Harold derived some small satisfaction in the sixteenth century ghost's flinch.
“No, sir, but there are ways and ways. 'Taint right to use a child in this fashion.”
“Your objection is noted, Molly, but over-ruled.” Harold shifted Lucy to his other hip, jerking his face out of the way of Prudence, the headless doll, as Lucy twisted to keep the television screen in view. “I shall take every precaution to keep Lucy safe as houses.”
“Yes sir, but as you just pointed out, the 'ouse 'ain't all that safe.” Molly vanished again and the television was abruptly silenced.
“Cartoons gone away. Poof.”
“Yes, love, but they'll be back tomorrow, with any luck.”
“Prudence likes cartoons.”
“She does?” Harold frowned as he began to walk briskly back up the stairs. “How? She has no head. No eyes to see them nor ears to hear.”
Lucy fell silent, obviously considering the question, then held the doll up for his inspection. “She's got a bottom.”
“Ah. That explains a lot.” Harold tried to increase his pace. “Has she got a mouth there, too? She could be a politician.”