I’ll be teaching at the Valley School next year, so I’ll be quite busy.”
Pamela glanced quickly at Aunt Sarah, but she seemed to know all about Aunt Elsie’s plans and had nothing to say. The summer had changed things for Aunt Elsie, too.
“That’s wonderful, Aunt Elsie,” Pamela said. She kissed her pale cheek and turned to Aunt Sarah.
Aunt Sarah bent to receive Pamela’s kiss. “Good-by, Pamela,” she said. But as Pamela turned to go she added sharply, “Come here.”
Startled, Pamela turned back. Aunt Sarah’s face gave a little twist as if she had a pain somewhere and she reached out with both hands. Then suddenly her hands dropped, and her face was again proud and still.
“Do try to remember to stand up straight and to be punctual,” she said.
“Yes, Aunt Sarah. I’ll try,” Pamela said out loud, but as she started slowly down the stairs something inside her said wonderingly, “Poor Aunt Sarah.”
Brother sat at the foot of the steps neatly arranged in his usual china cat pose. Pamela decided she even liked him today, though he was a stuck-up old thing. She stopped to give him a good-by pat. But as she did, Brother stood up and, accompanying himself with a rusty purr, wound himself around her leg like any affectionate feline. Then, as she stared in amazement, he rearranged himself primly on his stair step. Pamela could only look on in wonder.
“Coming Pam?” Father called from the car. Pamela ran across the lawn and climbed in beside him. As they rattled over the old wooden bridge, she looked back. There were the aunts waving from the veranda steps, the broad lawn under the dark Oaks, part of the silent dusty farmyard—and just a glimpse of the old barn.
The old barn! Where she had first met Nimbus and where she had last seen the ponies. Where she had so often told Ponyboy good-by while the ponies crowded around her, nickering softly and touching her with their velvet noses.
As the car wound its way down the narrow Valley Road, Pamela stared straight ahead, but she wasn’t seeing with her eyes. Instead, she was looking backward over the summer. Tears filled her eyes as she twisted the braided ring on her finger.
It was really over now. The wonderful summer, the summer of ponies, the magical gift from her unknown grandmother. If only it could happen all over again. In spite of her joy, she was suddenly sad.
“Look, Pamela,” her father said suddenly. “Look up ahead. The trees are beginning to turn gold.”
Pamela blinked the tears from her eyes and looked. Sure enough, a patch of trees glowed with the bright golds and reds of autumn. Fall was just ahead, and then winter. But there were other things ahead, too. There would be traveling with Father and new friends and good times and then a real home and a horse of her very own.
Pamela sighed, “I can’t wait for fall,” she said.
A Biography of Zilpha Keatley Snyder
Zilpha Keatley Snyder (b. 1927) is the three-time Newbery Honor–winning author of classic children’s novels such as The Egypt Game , The Headless Cupid , and The Witches of Worm . Her adventure and fantasy stories are beloved by many generations.
Snyder was born in Lemoore, California, in 1927. Her father, William Keatley, worked for Shell Oil, but as a would-be rancher he and his family always lived on a small farm. Snyder’s parents were both storytellers, and their tales often kept their children entertained during quiet evenings at home.
Snyder began reading and telling stories of her own at an early age. By the time she was four years old she was able to read novels and newspapers intended for adults. When she wasn’t reading, she was making up and embellishing stories. When she was eight, Snyder decided that she would be a writer—a profession in which embellishment and imagination were accepted and rewarded.
Snyder’s adolescent years were made more difficult by her studious country upbringing and by the fact that she had been advanced a grade when
Pamela glanced quickly at Aunt Sarah, but she seemed to know all about Aunt Elsie’s plans and had nothing to say. The summer had changed things for Aunt Elsie, too.
“That’s wonderful, Aunt Elsie,” Pamela said. She kissed her pale cheek and turned to Aunt Sarah.
Aunt Sarah bent to receive Pamela’s kiss. “Good-by, Pamela,” she said. But as Pamela turned to go she added sharply, “Come here.”
Startled, Pamela turned back. Aunt Sarah’s face gave a little twist as if she had a pain somewhere and she reached out with both hands. Then suddenly her hands dropped, and her face was again proud and still.
“Do try to remember to stand up straight and to be punctual,” she said.
“Yes, Aunt Sarah. I’ll try,” Pamela said out loud, but as she started slowly down the stairs something inside her said wonderingly, “Poor Aunt Sarah.”
Brother sat at the foot of the steps neatly arranged in his usual china cat pose. Pamela decided she even liked him today, though he was a stuck-up old thing. She stopped to give him a good-by pat. But as she did, Brother stood up and, accompanying himself with a rusty purr, wound himself around her leg like any affectionate feline. Then, as she stared in amazement, he rearranged himself primly on his stair step. Pamela could only look on in wonder.
“Coming Pam?” Father called from the car. Pamela ran across the lawn and climbed in beside him. As they rattled over the old wooden bridge, she looked back. There were the aunts waving from the veranda steps, the broad lawn under the dark Oaks, part of the silent dusty farmyard—and just a glimpse of the old barn.
The old barn! Where she had first met Nimbus and where she had last seen the ponies. Where she had so often told Ponyboy good-by while the ponies crowded around her, nickering softly and touching her with their velvet noses.
As the car wound its way down the narrow Valley Road, Pamela stared straight ahead, but she wasn’t seeing with her eyes. Instead, she was looking backward over the summer. Tears filled her eyes as she twisted the braided ring on her finger.
It was really over now. The wonderful summer, the summer of ponies, the magical gift from her unknown grandmother. If only it could happen all over again. In spite of her joy, she was suddenly sad.
“Look, Pamela,” her father said suddenly. “Look up ahead. The trees are beginning to turn gold.”
Pamela blinked the tears from her eyes and looked. Sure enough, a patch of trees glowed with the bright golds and reds of autumn. Fall was just ahead, and then winter. But there were other things ahead, too. There would be traveling with Father and new friends and good times and then a real home and a horse of her very own.
Pamela sighed, “I can’t wait for fall,” she said.
A Biography of Zilpha Keatley Snyder
Zilpha Keatley Snyder (b. 1927) is the three-time Newbery Honor–winning author of classic children’s novels such as The Egypt Game , The Headless Cupid , and The Witches of Worm . Her adventure and fantasy stories are beloved by many generations.
Snyder was born in Lemoore, California, in 1927. Her father, William Keatley, worked for Shell Oil, but as a would-be rancher he and his family always lived on a small farm. Snyder’s parents were both storytellers, and their tales often kept their children entertained during quiet evenings at home.
Snyder began reading and telling stories of her own at an early age. By the time she was four years old she was able to read novels and newspapers intended for adults. When she wasn’t reading, she was making up and embellishing stories. When she was eight, Snyder decided that she would be a writer—a profession in which embellishment and imagination were accepted and rewarded.
Snyder’s adolescent years were made more difficult by her studious country upbringing and by the fact that she had been advanced a grade when
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