took the tea kettle away from Aunt M. and made her sit down at the kitchen table and got her nerve medicine out of the cupboard.
Aunt M. sat down quietly enough, but after a moment she got her breath back and began to yell at Woo Ying. “I don’t need that. There’s nothing wrong with my nerves. And don’t you tell me what to do, you ridiculous—”
But Woo Ying was yelling, too, drowning her out. “Why yelling like that at poor missy? Look how sad missy. Look at poor little missy Carly.”
Aunt M. stopped yelling and looked at Carly and so did Woo Ying. She looked back at them. They were both peering at her with their wrinkled faces squeezed into worried frowns. Suddenly she began to giggle, and after a moment Aunt M. laughed too. But Woo Ying went on frowning until Aunt M. explained.
“I wasn’t yelling at Carly,” she said. “I was yelling about that caterwauling, puddin’-mouthed old preacher. Scared Carly half to death with all his talk about the world coming to an end.” She turned to Carly. “Listen to me, child. The world’s not going to come to an end. Not now and not for a long time. That—that”—she muttered a few more words under her breath and then went on—“that Brother Tupper doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
Carly nodded. She wanted to believe what Aunt M. said. She didn’t want to think about all those terribly convincing signs and omens the preacher had shouted about. She wished she could just forget all those proofs that the end was at hand.
Woo Ying was nodding his head. “Aha,” he said. “Woo Ying think maybe reason why missy so sad. Woo Ying think maybe missy worry about end of world.” He sat down in the chair next to Carly and tucked his hands into his sleeves. “Look at Woo Ying,” he said. “Woo Ying very old. In China very old people very wise. Know many things. Woo Ying know all about world. World very okay. Very okay.” He leaned forward and stared into Carly’s eyes. “Missy believe Woo Ying?”
Carly felt a smile tugging at the edges of her mouth. “Yes,” she said. “I believe Woo Ying.”
Chapter 17
“F OR HEAVEN’S SAKE , Carly, stand still.”
“I am standing still,” Carly said. “I’m not moving anything but my eyes.”
Perched on a footstool in front of the long mirror in Nellie’s room, Carly turned her head ever so slightly and rolled her eyes toward her reflection. The crown looked fine again, now that Nellie had pressed the wrinkled points with the. flatiron, and the torch with its flames of orange and yellow tissue paper was as good as new. The gown itself was another matter.
Silky white and draped in Grecian fashion, the Statue of Liberty gown that had been so stunning on Lila was something of a disappointment. The bodice, a crisscrossing of softly gathered tucks, had fitted quite differently on Lila. Carly sighed. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chest as much as she could, without much effect.
“Nellie,” she asked, “when will I grow a bosom?”
Nellie started, as if she had pricked her finger. “Ummm,” she said, shaking her head and pointing to the pins she was holding between her lips. Then she bent her head quickly again over the hemming, but not quickly enough to hide the frown. Looking down at her sister’s curly red head, Carly sighed again, more softly. The question about bosoms, like lots of other questions, was one that Nellie probably wouldn’t answer, even if she hadn’t had a mouth full of pins.
Carly had learned by experience that Nellie disliked being asked certain kinds of questions almost as much as she disliked being “in charge.” “Ask your mother,” she usually said when Carly asked about such things. Carly guessed that Nellie had read somewhere that “Ask your mother” was what you were supposed to say to children who were too curious. But whoever had given that advice obviously hadn’t known Mama.
Not that Mama refused to answer such questions. It was just that the
Aunt M. sat down quietly enough, but after a moment she got her breath back and began to yell at Woo Ying. “I don’t need that. There’s nothing wrong with my nerves. And don’t you tell me what to do, you ridiculous—”
But Woo Ying was yelling, too, drowning her out. “Why yelling like that at poor missy? Look how sad missy. Look at poor little missy Carly.”
Aunt M. stopped yelling and looked at Carly and so did Woo Ying. She looked back at them. They were both peering at her with their wrinkled faces squeezed into worried frowns. Suddenly she began to giggle, and after a moment Aunt M. laughed too. But Woo Ying went on frowning until Aunt M. explained.
“I wasn’t yelling at Carly,” she said. “I was yelling about that caterwauling, puddin’-mouthed old preacher. Scared Carly half to death with all his talk about the world coming to an end.” She turned to Carly. “Listen to me, child. The world’s not going to come to an end. Not now and not for a long time. That—that”—she muttered a few more words under her breath and then went on—“that Brother Tupper doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
Carly nodded. She wanted to believe what Aunt M. said. She didn’t want to think about all those terribly convincing signs and omens the preacher had shouted about. She wished she could just forget all those proofs that the end was at hand.
Woo Ying was nodding his head. “Aha,” he said. “Woo Ying think maybe reason why missy so sad. Woo Ying think maybe missy worry about end of world.” He sat down in the chair next to Carly and tucked his hands into his sleeves. “Look at Woo Ying,” he said. “Woo Ying very old. In China very old people very wise. Know many things. Woo Ying know all about world. World very okay. Very okay.” He leaned forward and stared into Carly’s eyes. “Missy believe Woo Ying?”
Carly felt a smile tugging at the edges of her mouth. “Yes,” she said. “I believe Woo Ying.”
Chapter 17
“F OR HEAVEN’S SAKE , Carly, stand still.”
“I am standing still,” Carly said. “I’m not moving anything but my eyes.”
Perched on a footstool in front of the long mirror in Nellie’s room, Carly turned her head ever so slightly and rolled her eyes toward her reflection. The crown looked fine again, now that Nellie had pressed the wrinkled points with the. flatiron, and the torch with its flames of orange and yellow tissue paper was as good as new. The gown itself was another matter.
Silky white and draped in Grecian fashion, the Statue of Liberty gown that had been so stunning on Lila was something of a disappointment. The bodice, a crisscrossing of softly gathered tucks, had fitted quite differently on Lila. Carly sighed. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chest as much as she could, without much effect.
“Nellie,” she asked, “when will I grow a bosom?”
Nellie started, as if she had pricked her finger. “Ummm,” she said, shaking her head and pointing to the pins she was holding between her lips. Then she bent her head quickly again over the hemming, but not quickly enough to hide the frown. Looking down at her sister’s curly red head, Carly sighed again, more softly. The question about bosoms, like lots of other questions, was one that Nellie probably wouldn’t answer, even if she hadn’t had a mouth full of pins.
Carly had learned by experience that Nellie disliked being asked certain kinds of questions almost as much as she disliked being “in charge.” “Ask your mother,” she usually said when Carly asked about such things. Carly guessed that Nellie had read somewhere that “Ask your mother” was what you were supposed to say to children who were too curious. But whoever had given that advice obviously hadn’t known Mama.
Not that Mama refused to answer such questions. It was just that the
Similar Books
