Ralph sat and started doing a sketch of his own.
Immy washed up their dishes, then peek ed over his shoulder. "Wow, you're good. I didn't know you could draw. You're a real artist."
She'd seen the water colors hanging on the wall in his house in Saltlick and knew his mother had done them, but she didn't know Ralph was, it seemed, as good as his mother had been.
"It's just rendering," he said. "I'm not an artist."
" Whatever it is, that pig looks exactly like Marshmallow."
In his picture, Marshmallow had longhorn horns coming out the side of his head, cowhide splotches on his skin, and a tufted tail.
Immy sat beside him. "Now, how are we going to do this? Too bad we can't enter your drawing."
"It shouldn't be too hard. When is the contest again?"
"Saturday."
"And today's Thursday? I think we can do it. You have flour? I have chicken wire in the truck."
Ralph jumped up and hurried out t o his truck while Immy got her sack of flour out of the cupboard.
After Ralph started shaping and snipping the chicken wire, Immy called Drew and Marshmallow in to watch. The two female humans were rapt as the wire took form, almost magically , under Ralph's strong hands . He had brought a stack of old newspapers up from the basement and now set them cutting newspapers into strips. While they did that, Ralph looked like a professional che f mixing up the flour and water with a little salt, to dip the strips in. They all three helped put the strips on the form.
By Drew's bedtime, Ralph had fashioned a small cap, fitted for Marshmallow's head, with eight-inch horns, out of chicken wire, and they had covered the contraption with a layers of papier-mâché .
"It looks great," said Immy. "Let's try it on."
"It's not done yet," Ralph said, frowning at his creation. "It needs more layers of paper. I think we can dry it in the oven."
After a short time in the oven, it was dry enough to add another layer.
"We can do another one or two tomorrow," Ralph said.
"Look at that." Immy stared at the creation. "It looks like Marshmallow will have horns."
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" said Drew, hopping around the table. "He's the cutest pig in the world!"
Immy thought she'd be able to make his tail out of cloth, and Ralph said finger paint would do for cowhide splotches. "Too bad we can't give him an udder," said Ralph.
Immy punched him on the arm. "That's silly. He's a boy."
"Well, he's also a pig," answered Ralph.
"And it's Drew's bedtime." She shooed Drew upstairs to get ready for a bath. During their goodbyes on the front porch , Immy asked if Ralph thought he could make a ramp for the inside stairs.
"Probably."
"How soon?"
"I don't think I can work on it--"
Immy gave him another goodbye kiss, this one a little stronger than the last two.
"I'll do it right after the pig show, okay?"
"Okay." Immy grinned and went upstairs to get Drew ready for bed.
***
"Last book," said Immy. S he usually read three to Drew at bedtime and they were on the fourth .
"Hooty wants one more after this one," said Drew. She was sleeping in the Great Hall again, Marshmallow curled up on the floor beside her.
"You tell Hooty he needs his beauty sleep."
"How come? He's not bootyful . You can't see him. Nobody can but me."
That was certainly true. "He needs to look good for you, doesn't he?"
Drew shrugged. "I don't care how he looks. He looks better tha n the lady anyway."
Not "the lady" again! Damn ghost.
Immy read the last book while Drew's eyes began to close . T hen she tucked her daughter in and kissed her on her soft, smooth forehead.
"The lady tole me she doesn't want that man here," Drew said, her voice s ounding sleepy already .
"Which man?" They'd had a parade of them that night.
"That fat man that went all the way upstairs."
"That's her nephew , Geoff ." Geoff didn't seem to like his deceased aunt . It was reasonable she wouldn't like him.
What am I doing , Immy thought, a cting like this ghost is real! Immy refused to believe that.
She started to
Immy washed up their dishes, then peek ed over his shoulder. "Wow, you're good. I didn't know you could draw. You're a real artist."
She'd seen the water colors hanging on the wall in his house in Saltlick and knew his mother had done them, but she didn't know Ralph was, it seemed, as good as his mother had been.
"It's just rendering," he said. "I'm not an artist."
" Whatever it is, that pig looks exactly like Marshmallow."
In his picture, Marshmallow had longhorn horns coming out the side of his head, cowhide splotches on his skin, and a tufted tail.
Immy sat beside him. "Now, how are we going to do this? Too bad we can't enter your drawing."
"It shouldn't be too hard. When is the contest again?"
"Saturday."
"And today's Thursday? I think we can do it. You have flour? I have chicken wire in the truck."
Ralph jumped up and hurried out t o his truck while Immy got her sack of flour out of the cupboard.
After Ralph started shaping and snipping the chicken wire, Immy called Drew and Marshmallow in to watch. The two female humans were rapt as the wire took form, almost magically , under Ralph's strong hands . He had brought a stack of old newspapers up from the basement and now set them cutting newspapers into strips. While they did that, Ralph looked like a professional che f mixing up the flour and water with a little salt, to dip the strips in. They all three helped put the strips on the form.
By Drew's bedtime, Ralph had fashioned a small cap, fitted for Marshmallow's head, with eight-inch horns, out of chicken wire, and they had covered the contraption with a layers of papier-mâché .
"It looks great," said Immy. "Let's try it on."
"It's not done yet," Ralph said, frowning at his creation. "It needs more layers of paper. I think we can dry it in the oven."
After a short time in the oven, it was dry enough to add another layer.
"We can do another one or two tomorrow," Ralph said.
"Look at that." Immy stared at the creation. "It looks like Marshmallow will have horns."
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" said Drew, hopping around the table. "He's the cutest pig in the world!"
Immy thought she'd be able to make his tail out of cloth, and Ralph said finger paint would do for cowhide splotches. "Too bad we can't give him an udder," said Ralph.
Immy punched him on the arm. "That's silly. He's a boy."
"Well, he's also a pig," answered Ralph.
"And it's Drew's bedtime." She shooed Drew upstairs to get ready for a bath. During their goodbyes on the front porch , Immy asked if Ralph thought he could make a ramp for the inside stairs.
"Probably."
"How soon?"
"I don't think I can work on it--"
Immy gave him another goodbye kiss, this one a little stronger than the last two.
"I'll do it right after the pig show, okay?"
"Okay." Immy grinned and went upstairs to get Drew ready for bed.
***
"Last book," said Immy. S he usually read three to Drew at bedtime and they were on the fourth .
"Hooty wants one more after this one," said Drew. She was sleeping in the Great Hall again, Marshmallow curled up on the floor beside her.
"You tell Hooty he needs his beauty sleep."
"How come? He's not bootyful . You can't see him. Nobody can but me."
That was certainly true. "He needs to look good for you, doesn't he?"
Drew shrugged. "I don't care how he looks. He looks better tha n the lady anyway."
Not "the lady" again! Damn ghost.
Immy read the last book while Drew's eyes began to close . T hen she tucked her daughter in and kissed her on her soft, smooth forehead.
"The lady tole me she doesn't want that man here," Drew said, her voice s ounding sleepy already .
"Which man?" They'd had a parade of them that night.
"That fat man that went all the way upstairs."
"That's her nephew , Geoff ." Geoff didn't seem to like his deceased aunt . It was reasonable she wouldn't like him.
What am I doing , Immy thought, a cting like this ghost is real! Immy refused to believe that.
She started to
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