hiding," Angela Tarberry said.
"A runaway poet with a wife and ten children at home," from Mary Beth Codgell.
"A prince in exile," said Rosemary Brown.
A group of us left school together one February afternoon and, by previous agreement, headed right to 51 Mill Street on Factory Hill. Once we got there we didn't know what we wanted to do, or why we had come. Just to
see
the place where the pirate-in-hiding-runaway-poet-prince-in-exile lived.
Like all the others it was a small, plain cottage. We peeked in the windows. We walked around the back. We tried the back door, and to our surprise, it opened. And before we knew it we were inside the cottage, where we did not plan to be, standing on the bare plank floor in front of the hearth that held no fire. There was a single bed in front of the hearth.
"He must sleep here at night," Rosemary Brown said. "For warmth. Oh, picture a prince in exile in a place like this."
There was a small table with a single bowl of fruit on it. "Fruit in
winter,
" exclaimed Mary Beth Codgell. "Someone sent it to him from Italy."
We were busying ourselves looking around when the back door opened and a woman came in, wiping her hands on her apron. "I'm the next-door neighbor," she said. "What are you girls doing here?"
She said it sternly. No nonsense.
"We were just walking by," Angela Tarberry told her, "when we saw a rat scampering back here. And we came to chase it. The wind blew the door open and the rat came in and we came in to shoo it out. We don't even know who lives here."
Oh, she was a good liar. I wished I could lie as expertly as she.
The neighbor woman was not stupid. "You all are prying about Mr. Roche's place. You all aren't the first fancypants girls to do it. And you all know full well he lives here. It's called treading on private property. But you all have done worse. It's called breaking and entering, and it's against the law."
We looked at one another in dismay.
We'd broken the law!
She looked at me. "You there, in the blue cape. Aren't you the mayor's sister?"
"No," I lied, "you're mistaken. I'm not the mayor's sister."
"You certainly are. I saw you there in his office one day. Well, I'm going to report you all to the mayor's office. Come with me. I want you to write down your names."
There was nothing said by anyone when I got home that day. Supper went on in the usual pleasant way. And afterward I was not summoned by either Louis or Teddy but left to my own terrible imaginings. The next morning, however, a courier brought a summons, a
summons,
to Teddy at breakfast.
"It's from the mayor's office," Teddy said quietly, after reading it. He had no expression on his face. He did not look at me.
Louis wore no expression, either. He just quietly sipped his coffee and delicately wiped his face with his white linen napkin.
"You've apparently gotten into some trouble, sweetie." Now Teddy looked at me mildly. "And your brother Louis is summoning you and your other friends and their parents to his office this afternoon at three thirty. It seems you all have broken some law."
"Teddy, we just..."
He held up his hand. "This is not between us this time. This is between you and"âhe gestured to Louisâ"the mayor. This is official business. And he will handle it. And you'll do whatever he says. Now breaking and entering..." He shook his head. "A serious business."
I felt sick. I glanced at Louis, but he did not look at me. Nor did he and Teddy look at each other.
This is all planned,
I told myself.
Teddy knew about this before the summons came, or else he'd be climbing the walls by now. They have combined forces, like they did at Manassas, and they won there, didn't they?
So, what do I do now?
Carol and Viola were looking at me. Pa ... well, Pa was in his own world, enjoying his breakfast. I bit my bottom lip. Which of them to appeal to?
I got out of my chair and stood next to Teddy. "Please, can't we settle it here?"
"I'm afraid not. This involves the law. Louis
"A runaway poet with a wife and ten children at home," from Mary Beth Codgell.
"A prince in exile," said Rosemary Brown.
A group of us left school together one February afternoon and, by previous agreement, headed right to 51 Mill Street on Factory Hill. Once we got there we didn't know what we wanted to do, or why we had come. Just to
see
the place where the pirate-in-hiding-runaway-poet-prince-in-exile lived.
Like all the others it was a small, plain cottage. We peeked in the windows. We walked around the back. We tried the back door, and to our surprise, it opened. And before we knew it we were inside the cottage, where we did not plan to be, standing on the bare plank floor in front of the hearth that held no fire. There was a single bed in front of the hearth.
"He must sleep here at night," Rosemary Brown said. "For warmth. Oh, picture a prince in exile in a place like this."
There was a small table with a single bowl of fruit on it. "Fruit in
winter,
" exclaimed Mary Beth Codgell. "Someone sent it to him from Italy."
We were busying ourselves looking around when the back door opened and a woman came in, wiping her hands on her apron. "I'm the next-door neighbor," she said. "What are you girls doing here?"
She said it sternly. No nonsense.
"We were just walking by," Angela Tarberry told her, "when we saw a rat scampering back here. And we came to chase it. The wind blew the door open and the rat came in and we came in to shoo it out. We don't even know who lives here."
Oh, she was a good liar. I wished I could lie as expertly as she.
The neighbor woman was not stupid. "You all are prying about Mr. Roche's place. You all aren't the first fancypants girls to do it. And you all know full well he lives here. It's called treading on private property. But you all have done worse. It's called breaking and entering, and it's against the law."
We looked at one another in dismay.
We'd broken the law!
She looked at me. "You there, in the blue cape. Aren't you the mayor's sister?"
"No," I lied, "you're mistaken. I'm not the mayor's sister."
"You certainly are. I saw you there in his office one day. Well, I'm going to report you all to the mayor's office. Come with me. I want you to write down your names."
There was nothing said by anyone when I got home that day. Supper went on in the usual pleasant way. And afterward I was not summoned by either Louis or Teddy but left to my own terrible imaginings. The next morning, however, a courier brought a summons, a
summons,
to Teddy at breakfast.
"It's from the mayor's office," Teddy said quietly, after reading it. He had no expression on his face. He did not look at me.
Louis wore no expression, either. He just quietly sipped his coffee and delicately wiped his face with his white linen napkin.
"You've apparently gotten into some trouble, sweetie." Now Teddy looked at me mildly. "And your brother Louis is summoning you and your other friends and their parents to his office this afternoon at three thirty. It seems you all have broken some law."
"Teddy, we just..."
He held up his hand. "This is not between us this time. This is between you and"âhe gestured to Louisâ"the mayor. This is official business. And he will handle it. And you'll do whatever he says. Now breaking and entering..." He shook his head. "A serious business."
I felt sick. I glanced at Louis, but he did not look at me. Nor did he and Teddy look at each other.
This is all planned,
I told myself.
Teddy knew about this before the summons came, or else he'd be climbing the walls by now. They have combined forces, like they did at Manassas, and they won there, didn't they?
So, what do I do now?
Carol and Viola were looking at me. Pa ... well, Pa was in his own world, enjoying his breakfast. I bit my bottom lip. Which of them to appeal to?
I got out of my chair and stood next to Teddy. "Please, can't we settle it here?"
"I'm afraid not. This involves the law. Louis
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