area. I kept on and saw paint on another rock. This one said
LOOK UP.
There in the tree above me was a rustic tree house, a simple shelter made of a wooden platform covered by a shingled roof. Sitting there was Miss Larch’s friend. No wonder Dr. Shelton smelled mossy; he was living in a tree.
“Hello,” I called up.
He was startled and grabbed a broom, I suppose to protect himself. Then he said, “Twig.” He nodded as if he had been expecting me, and I felt a little flattered that he remembered me at all.
“Don’t stumble around,” he said. “Come up.”
He tossed down a rope ladder. For about half a second I hesitated. Then I climbed up. He had a bedroll and a desk and a bookcase made of branches.
“You’re a good climber,” he said.
I took it as a serious compliment. “That’s why I’m called Twig.”
Dr. Shelton had a collection of binoculars and notebooks. The desk was covered with feathers. I thought I recognized his quilt as one my mother had hung up on our laundry line to dry in the sun.
“Someone left me a message for me to find you,” I said.
I more than suspected that he was the thief the Gossip Group talked about.
“Do you mind if I ask what you’re doing up here?” I asked.
Miss Larch’s friend reached into his jacket pocket for his card. He was a
Professor of Ornithology, Retired, PhD Cornell University.
Under his name was written
The Owl Man.
“My specialty.”
“The black saw-whet owls.” Exactly as my brother had told me.
He nodded. “If I can prove they are specific to this area and that they will face extinction if construction begins, then I may be able to stop the ruination of these woods.”
“Are you writing the graffiti?”
“No. But I can’t say I’m against it. The writer is on the side of these woods.”
“Is it the same person who brought you the quilt?”
“If he did, then he’s generous,” Dr. Shelton said. “If I told you any more I would be an ungrateful wretch.”
“He’s generous with other people’s belongings.” The fact was, the quilt was an old one and we didn’t miss it very much, and I really didn’t mind Dr. Shelton using it, since he needed it more than we did.
“If I’m correct in my thinking, then I would say he’s even more generous with his own. What belongs to him, he wants to give to all of Sidwell.”
As I walked home I thought it was best not to judge what I didn’t understand. But that didn’t mean I would stop trying to get to the bottom of the secrets of Sidwell.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Message and the Messenger
J ULIA FOUND THE DIARY WHEN SHE WASN’T expecting to stumble upon it. This seemed to be the way enchantments worked, appearing when you least expected them to. All the best things happen that way, on an ordinary day that’s like any other until everything suddenly changes. Julia was in the library, which was the oldest part of Mourning Dove Cottage, where the bookshelves were filled with dusty, timeworn volumes about things like cheese making and table manners. There was a small mahogany writing desk in the corner. It wasn’t the nicest piece of furniture; in fact, it was ugly,with shaky bowed legs and drawers that stuck shut and refused to open in damp weather. The desk seemed as if it might fall apart if you breathed on it too hard. Mrs. Hall had been thinking about bringing it down to Blue Door Antiques on Main Street to see if they might like to try to sell it.
Julia wanted to send a postcard with a photograph of Sidwell to her cousin in England. She opened a drawer to look for a pen. When she reached inside she felt a latch at the back. She slipped it up, to find a hidden space. Inside was a small leather-bound book. Agnes Early’s diary.
It seemed only fitting that if we wanted to undo the curse we should read the diary in the herb garden. Julia phoned me and I ran all the way. She waited to turn the first page until we were sitting in the shade of a tangle of roses that were now in full bloom.
LOOK UP.
There in the tree above me was a rustic tree house, a simple shelter made of a wooden platform covered by a shingled roof. Sitting there was Miss Larch’s friend. No wonder Dr. Shelton smelled mossy; he was living in a tree.
“Hello,” I called up.
He was startled and grabbed a broom, I suppose to protect himself. Then he said, “Twig.” He nodded as if he had been expecting me, and I felt a little flattered that he remembered me at all.
“Don’t stumble around,” he said. “Come up.”
He tossed down a rope ladder. For about half a second I hesitated. Then I climbed up. He had a bedroll and a desk and a bookcase made of branches.
“You’re a good climber,” he said.
I took it as a serious compliment. “That’s why I’m called Twig.”
Dr. Shelton had a collection of binoculars and notebooks. The desk was covered with feathers. I thought I recognized his quilt as one my mother had hung up on our laundry line to dry in the sun.
“Someone left me a message for me to find you,” I said.
I more than suspected that he was the thief the Gossip Group talked about.
“Do you mind if I ask what you’re doing up here?” I asked.
Miss Larch’s friend reached into his jacket pocket for his card. He was a
Professor of Ornithology, Retired, PhD Cornell University.
Under his name was written
The Owl Man.
“My specialty.”
“The black saw-whet owls.” Exactly as my brother had told me.
He nodded. “If I can prove they are specific to this area and that they will face extinction if construction begins, then I may be able to stop the ruination of these woods.”
“Are you writing the graffiti?”
“No. But I can’t say I’m against it. The writer is on the side of these woods.”
“Is it the same person who brought you the quilt?”
“If he did, then he’s generous,” Dr. Shelton said. “If I told you any more I would be an ungrateful wretch.”
“He’s generous with other people’s belongings.” The fact was, the quilt was an old one and we didn’t miss it very much, and I really didn’t mind Dr. Shelton using it, since he needed it more than we did.
“If I’m correct in my thinking, then I would say he’s even more generous with his own. What belongs to him, he wants to give to all of Sidwell.”
As I walked home I thought it was best not to judge what I didn’t understand. But that didn’t mean I would stop trying to get to the bottom of the secrets of Sidwell.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Message and the Messenger
J ULIA FOUND THE DIARY WHEN SHE WASN’T expecting to stumble upon it. This seemed to be the way enchantments worked, appearing when you least expected them to. All the best things happen that way, on an ordinary day that’s like any other until everything suddenly changes. Julia was in the library, which was the oldest part of Mourning Dove Cottage, where the bookshelves were filled with dusty, timeworn volumes about things like cheese making and table manners. There was a small mahogany writing desk in the corner. It wasn’t the nicest piece of furniture; in fact, it was ugly,with shaky bowed legs and drawers that stuck shut and refused to open in damp weather. The desk seemed as if it might fall apart if you breathed on it too hard. Mrs. Hall had been thinking about bringing it down to Blue Door Antiques on Main Street to see if they might like to try to sell it.
Julia wanted to send a postcard with a photograph of Sidwell to her cousin in England. She opened a drawer to look for a pen. When she reached inside she felt a latch at the back. She slipped it up, to find a hidden space. Inside was a small leather-bound book. Agnes Early’s diary.
It seemed only fitting that if we wanted to undo the curse we should read the diary in the herb garden. Julia phoned me and I ran all the way. She waited to turn the first page until we were sitting in the shade of a tangle of roses that were now in full bloom.
Similar Books
