— do you mean Emily?”
“The little girl who was with you in the sleigh.”
“Oh,” said Sally, remembering how Emily had disappeared. “I don’t know if she — I mean, I don’t know if her mother will let her.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” said Aunt Sarah briskly. “Ask her. That is, if you’d like her to come. You might have lunch together too, if you like.”
“Oh, I
would
like it!” cried Sally. “But —”
“Run along then, and ask her.”
Sally hesitated for just a moment, and then she hurried out into the garden. She looked up at Emily’s window. The shade was drawn again. “Maybe they’re not home,” she told herself.
“Emily,” she called, then louder, “Emily!”
With a brisk snap, the shade flew up and Emily’s face appeared in the window. Her braids dangled over the sill as she leaned out. The corners of her mouth turned up in the curly smile Sally already knew so well. “Hi, Sally,” she said.
“Hi, Emily, how are you?”
“I’m fine. I was just hoping you’d come out today.”
“You were?” asked Sally. “But I thought — Imean, yesterday, you were gone when I came back.”
“I had to go,” said Emily. “My mother called me. We went shopping.”
“Oh,” breathed Sally. She smiled her happy relief up at her friend.
“Sally,” asked Emily in an anxious voice, “are you — will you be going home? Is your mother coming?”
Sally shook her head. “No,” she said, “I told her I wanted to stay.”
“Oh, I’m glad!” cried Emily. “I’m
so
glad!”
“I’m glad too,” said Sally.
“Did you find Elizabeth yet?”
Sally shook her head. “Not yet,” she said. “But Emily, my Aunt Sarah told me to ask you if you could come over for lunch. We’ll make gingerbread cookies too. Could you? Do you think your mother would let you?”
“I’d like to,” said Emily eagerly. “I’ll ask my mother. Wait just a minute.”
Sally chewed on the end of a blade of grass while she waited. “Oh, I hope,” she whispered, “I hope she can.” She crossed her fingers. Like a good omen from the past, a tiny toad hopped by, looking very much like the one in her dream, and vanished into the tall grass.
Emily’s face showed again at the window withthe suddenness of a puppet appearing on stage. She was smiling. “My mother says I can come,” she announced, and then the stage was empty. The curtains stirred a little.
Aunt Sarah had a little starched apron, white with borders of lace, for each of them, and they helped each other tie the sashes in back. “They were mine when I was about your age,” said Aunt Sarah.
When the cookies were baked, they ate them for dessert after their lunch of peanut-butter sandwiches, carrot sticks, and potato chips. They sat for this meal at the round table in the dining room. In the afternoon Aunt Sarah left them to their own devices for the most part, but when she was with them, she did not seem frightening in the least, and Sally felt quite proud of her. “She’s
my
Aunt Sarah,” she thought, and she enjoyed showing her off a bit to Emily. Showing Emily about the house after lunch was like living again through the wonder of seeing it for the first time herself, only without the fear.
“Oh, there’s the melodeon!” exclaimed Emily as they went into the parlor. “And it does play a little tune when you walk!” They amused themselves for a time by walking back and forth, just to hear it tinkle.
Of course Emily had to look at the shells, andhear about how they had once lined the garden paths, and finger with wonder the bit of shell from Sally’s pocket. She seemed quite enchanted with the frail little cups and saucers, and her eyes were like saucers themselves as she listened to Sally’s story of how the handle on one of the cups had come to be broken.
“I wonder if it really did happen that way,” said Emily, staring at the cup through their two reflections in the glass front of the
“The little girl who was with you in the sleigh.”
“Oh,” said Sally, remembering how Emily had disappeared. “I don’t know if she — I mean, I don’t know if her mother will let her.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” said Aunt Sarah briskly. “Ask her. That is, if you’d like her to come. You might have lunch together too, if you like.”
“Oh, I
would
like it!” cried Sally. “But —”
“Run along then, and ask her.”
Sally hesitated for just a moment, and then she hurried out into the garden. She looked up at Emily’s window. The shade was drawn again. “Maybe they’re not home,” she told herself.
“Emily,” she called, then louder, “Emily!”
With a brisk snap, the shade flew up and Emily’s face appeared in the window. Her braids dangled over the sill as she leaned out. The corners of her mouth turned up in the curly smile Sally already knew so well. “Hi, Sally,” she said.
“Hi, Emily, how are you?”
“I’m fine. I was just hoping you’d come out today.”
“You were?” asked Sally. “But I thought — Imean, yesterday, you were gone when I came back.”
“I had to go,” said Emily. “My mother called me. We went shopping.”
“Oh,” breathed Sally. She smiled her happy relief up at her friend.
“Sally,” asked Emily in an anxious voice, “are you — will you be going home? Is your mother coming?”
Sally shook her head. “No,” she said, “I told her I wanted to stay.”
“Oh, I’m glad!” cried Emily. “I’m
so
glad!”
“I’m glad too,” said Sally.
“Did you find Elizabeth yet?”
Sally shook her head. “Not yet,” she said. “But Emily, my Aunt Sarah told me to ask you if you could come over for lunch. We’ll make gingerbread cookies too. Could you? Do you think your mother would let you?”
“I’d like to,” said Emily eagerly. “I’ll ask my mother. Wait just a minute.”
Sally chewed on the end of a blade of grass while she waited. “Oh, I hope,” she whispered, “I hope she can.” She crossed her fingers. Like a good omen from the past, a tiny toad hopped by, looking very much like the one in her dream, and vanished into the tall grass.
Emily’s face showed again at the window withthe suddenness of a puppet appearing on stage. She was smiling. “My mother says I can come,” she announced, and then the stage was empty. The curtains stirred a little.
Aunt Sarah had a little starched apron, white with borders of lace, for each of them, and they helped each other tie the sashes in back. “They were mine when I was about your age,” said Aunt Sarah.
When the cookies were baked, they ate them for dessert after their lunch of peanut-butter sandwiches, carrot sticks, and potato chips. They sat for this meal at the round table in the dining room. In the afternoon Aunt Sarah left them to their own devices for the most part, but when she was with them, she did not seem frightening in the least, and Sally felt quite proud of her. “She’s
my
Aunt Sarah,” she thought, and she enjoyed showing her off a bit to Emily. Showing Emily about the house after lunch was like living again through the wonder of seeing it for the first time herself, only without the fear.
“Oh, there’s the melodeon!” exclaimed Emily as they went into the parlor. “And it does play a little tune when you walk!” They amused themselves for a time by walking back and forth, just to hear it tinkle.
Of course Emily had to look at the shells, andhear about how they had once lined the garden paths, and finger with wonder the bit of shell from Sally’s pocket. She seemed quite enchanted with the frail little cups and saucers, and her eyes were like saucers themselves as she listened to Sally’s story of how the handle on one of the cups had come to be broken.
“I wonder if it really did happen that way,” said Emily, staring at the cup through their two reflections in the glass front of the
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