Brandon found a building to enter, a clothing shop that sold some of the biggest dresses Brandon had ever seen. He stepped inside and began to look around. The clerk frowned at the child, not usually liking street waifs to clog up the store, but something about this one made him allow it. Maybe it was the curious way the child was dressed.
Brandon glanced trough the store, amazed by all the colors and fancy fabrics of the dresses. He knew they were clothes for girls, and clothes for grown up girls at that, but he still found them pretty amazing.
Brandon listened as a grown up lady, wearing one of the fancy dresses, talked with the clerk about buying a few of the selection. They both talked like everyone else in this strange place, so strangely.
When the lady had left Brandon approached the counter, looking up at the store clerk. "Excuse me, why does everyone talk funny here?" Brandon asked.
The clerk looked down, surprised. He sounded a bit like an american, but his accent didn't sound quite like any the clerk had heard visitors in the United States using. "Why, we'e in England. We speak English perfectly normally here," he said, in surprise.
"Oh." Brandon said. "Oh yes of course. Sorry for posing such a ridiculous question," he said, as his voice adapted a fitting English accent. Not only that, but his accent was soon perfectly clear and proper by the standards of the times, like someone from the upper class.
The clerk blinked in surprise. Had the child been joking with him. He decided that it was prudent not to asked, as the boy may well have been the son of someone important. "Er, yes, very well then. Have a good day then, young master," he said.
