CHAPTER 1
“Come at Once!”
F rom the front seat of the station wagon, Benny Alden traced the large R at the top of the letter with his finger.
“What did you say this was again?” he asked his grandfather.
“A monogram,” replied Grandfather. “The first letter is a person’s last name. Our monogram would be A for Alden.”
“A monogram is an initial,” said Jessie from the backseat. “Initials are the first letters of your name. Your initials are —”
“ B, A !” Benny finished. At six, he was just learning to read. His sister Jessie, who was twelve, was teaching him more each day.
Next to Jessie, ten-year-old Violet turned from the window. “When I grow up, I’m going to have thick writing paper with my monogram on it in gold, just like Cousin Althea’s.”
It had only been a few days ago that the letter from Althea Randolph had arrived. It had a gold monogram on the envelope. Grandfather had opened it right away.
Althea Randolph was a cousin of Grandfather’s wife, Celia. In the letter, Althea claimed to be in trouble and needed Grandfather’s help.
The Alden children and their grandfather always tried to help people. Once, Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny had lived in an old boxcar. Their parents had died, and they were afraid their grandfather was mean. But then he had found them, and the children had learned that James Alden was a kind and loving man.
Grandfather decided immediately that they would go to Virginia, where Althea lived in a house called Peacock Hall. The Aldens packed, took a plane to Richmond, Virginia, then rented a car to drive to the Randolph estate.
Now they were driving past emerald-green pastures with grazing horses. Violet wished she had brought her camera. The chestnut horses would make a great picture. But they had left in such a hurry, she forgot to pack it.
“I wonder what kind of trouble Cousin Althea is in,” she said.
Grandfather shook his head. “She didn’t say in her letter. She just asked for us to come at once. We’ve been on this road quite a while. I’m not sure this is the right way.”
Benny pointed. “Look! There’s a lady selling stuff. Let’s stop and ask her.”
“Good idea.” Grandfather pulled the station wagon off the road.
The kids piled out, glad to stretch after the long ride.
A woman in her late twenties was arranging jars of small plants on a rough wooden counter. Wreaths of grapevine and dried flowers hung from the front of the handmade stall. A boy about Violet’s age watered buckets of flowers.
“Can I help you?” the woman said. Jessie thought she was pretty, with strawberry-blond hair and eyes so blue they were nearly purple.
“We’re looking for a house called Peacock Hall,” said Grandfather. “Do you know if this is the right road?”
“Yes, it is,” the woman replied in a soft Virginia drawl. “Keep going about a mile, to the old stone wall. The driveway is on the right. There’s a sign, but it’s grown over with trees.”
“Thank you,” Grandfather said.
Benny was interested in the weird-smelling plants on the counter.
“Those are herbs,” the woman told him.
Benny wrinkled his nose. “What are herbs?”
“Plants used in cooking. And people like them just because they smell nice, too.” The woman pulled off a leaf and crushed it between her fingers. “What’s that smell like?”
Benny sniffed. “Lemon!”
“Very good! The plant is called lemon balm.”
Jessie chose a bunch of wildflowers. “Do you think Cousin Althea would like these?” she asked.
“They are pretty. By the way, I’m Heather Olsen and this is my son, David. Hope to see you again.”
“Do you live around here?” Grandfather asked Heather as he paid for the purchase.
“Yeah, we live —” David began.
But Heather interrupted loudly, “David! Don’t drown the daffodils!”
He glanced down at the watering can, suddenly silent.
“Thanks very much for your help,” said Henry, who was fourteen.
They all
“Come at Once!”
F rom the front seat of the station wagon, Benny Alden traced the large R at the top of the letter with his finger.
“What did you say this was again?” he asked his grandfather.
“A monogram,” replied Grandfather. “The first letter is a person’s last name. Our monogram would be A for Alden.”
“A monogram is an initial,” said Jessie from the backseat. “Initials are the first letters of your name. Your initials are —”
“ B, A !” Benny finished. At six, he was just learning to read. His sister Jessie, who was twelve, was teaching him more each day.
Next to Jessie, ten-year-old Violet turned from the window. “When I grow up, I’m going to have thick writing paper with my monogram on it in gold, just like Cousin Althea’s.”
It had only been a few days ago that the letter from Althea Randolph had arrived. It had a gold monogram on the envelope. Grandfather had opened it right away.
Althea Randolph was a cousin of Grandfather’s wife, Celia. In the letter, Althea claimed to be in trouble and needed Grandfather’s help.
The Alden children and their grandfather always tried to help people. Once, Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny had lived in an old boxcar. Their parents had died, and they were afraid their grandfather was mean. But then he had found them, and the children had learned that James Alden was a kind and loving man.
Grandfather decided immediately that they would go to Virginia, where Althea lived in a house called Peacock Hall. The Aldens packed, took a plane to Richmond, Virginia, then rented a car to drive to the Randolph estate.
Now they were driving past emerald-green pastures with grazing horses. Violet wished she had brought her camera. The chestnut horses would make a great picture. But they had left in such a hurry, she forgot to pack it.
“I wonder what kind of trouble Cousin Althea is in,” she said.
Grandfather shook his head. “She didn’t say in her letter. She just asked for us to come at once. We’ve been on this road quite a while. I’m not sure this is the right way.”
Benny pointed. “Look! There’s a lady selling stuff. Let’s stop and ask her.”
“Good idea.” Grandfather pulled the station wagon off the road.
The kids piled out, glad to stretch after the long ride.
A woman in her late twenties was arranging jars of small plants on a rough wooden counter. Wreaths of grapevine and dried flowers hung from the front of the handmade stall. A boy about Violet’s age watered buckets of flowers.
“Can I help you?” the woman said. Jessie thought she was pretty, with strawberry-blond hair and eyes so blue they were nearly purple.
“We’re looking for a house called Peacock Hall,” said Grandfather. “Do you know if this is the right road?”
“Yes, it is,” the woman replied in a soft Virginia drawl. “Keep going about a mile, to the old stone wall. The driveway is on the right. There’s a sign, but it’s grown over with trees.”
“Thank you,” Grandfather said.
Benny was interested in the weird-smelling plants on the counter.
“Those are herbs,” the woman told him.
Benny wrinkled his nose. “What are herbs?”
“Plants used in cooking. And people like them just because they smell nice, too.” The woman pulled off a leaf and crushed it between her fingers. “What’s that smell like?”
Benny sniffed. “Lemon!”
“Very good! The plant is called lemon balm.”
Jessie chose a bunch of wildflowers. “Do you think Cousin Althea would like these?” she asked.
“They are pretty. By the way, I’m Heather Olsen and this is my son, David. Hope to see you again.”
“Do you live around here?” Grandfather asked Heather as he paid for the purchase.
“Yeah, we live —” David began.
But Heather interrupted loudly, “David! Don’t drown the daffodils!”
He glanced down at the watering can, suddenly silent.
“Thanks very much for your help,” said Henry, who was fourteen.
They all
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