black coat sat at a table, his work-worn hands turning the pages of a book with pictures.
They didn’t bother me. What was bugging me was the thought of the twins just thirty yards away. If they saw me with Polly they might come after me again. I didn’t want her to hearthem accusing me of hurting her and putting her in danger. I felt bad enough about that already.
“Tell me about the box,” said Polly breathlessly, pulling her feet off the table and sitting up straight. “What do you think is in it? Where do you think the key is? Did it belong to Winnifred? Do you think it has a secret compartment?”
“The whole box is a secret compartment until I figure out how to get it open,” I replied. “I looked through my grandmother’s dresser drawers, in her jewelry box, in my parents’ bedroom, all through the drawers in the kitchen. I couldn’t find a key that fit.”
“It’s got to be somewhere,” said Polly. “Maybe she kept it in a hidden drawer in her dresser, or under a loose floorboard in her room, or inside a false book—”
“I could try the study …” I said doubtfully.
Polly jumped to her feet. “Come on, let’s go look right now!” she said, shrugging on her coat and then pulling me along by the arm.
I grinned, in spite of myself. Ever-enthusiastic Polly, always ready to leap into the next adventure.
“Now wait a minute,” I said. “I don’t want you—”
“Not so fast,” said a squeaky voice behind her.
“You’re not going anywhere!” said another.
Polly whirled and there were the Horrors, blocking our way and looking as fierce as two grubby eight-year-old boys can when they’re dressed in snowsuits and flap-eared caps. One of them was clutching a book and the other was pointing his finger at me.
THE DRUNKEN GHOSTS
Polly
Before I could open my mouth to tell them to get lost, a tall figure swept out from among the bookshelves and came to rest between me and the Horrors. It was Mrs. Gardner. She stood with her back to me and her hands on her hips.
“ WHAT did I tell you about ever setting foot in the grown-ups’ library again?” she demanded in a surprisingly loud voice.
The twins cowered. It brought joy to my heart to see them like that.
“We were just—” spluttered Matthew.
“We were only—” gasped Mark.
“ OUT !” thundered Mrs. Gardner, advancing on them. “You’ve checked out your book so now you have no more business in this library. I’m going to phone your mother. You made a promise never to come into this section and …”
While she continued to lecture them fiercely, her back still to me, I beckoned to Rose and mouthed at her, COME ON, ROSE, LET ’ S GO !
She grabbed her coat and we slipped away. Soon we were heading up Parliament Street, past the scuzzy storefronts,Woolworth’s, Woman’s Bakery … I looked longingly at the heaps of fresh buns, cookies and tarts in the window of the bakery, but Rose dragged me past it.
“The key, remember?” she said.
We turned down Winchester, crossing the street so we wouldn’t have to walk past the Winchester Hotel. Rose moved quickly, casting nervous glances over her shoulder.
“Ghosts?” I inquired.
“Mmm,” she replied. “You don’t want to know what just came out of the hotel behind that guy with the filthy coat …”
Eeek.
Rose
What I saw coming out of the Winchester Hotel behind the tottering, boozy man in the long dirty coat was actually just another staggering drunk in a filthy coat, but both he and his coat hailed from a time when Victoria was Queen of England. Drunken ghosts didn’t bother me much, but Winchester Street, lined with ancient, ramshackle rooming houses, had the distinct aura of a place where any number of questionable ghosts could appear at any moment.
Our way home led past the cemetery, but I knew a way to avoid it. I ducked down a side street and led Polly through a couple of back alleys that brought us to the corner of Sumach and Amelia. Our street
They didn’t bother me. What was bugging me was the thought of the twins just thirty yards away. If they saw me with Polly they might come after me again. I didn’t want her to hearthem accusing me of hurting her and putting her in danger. I felt bad enough about that already.
“Tell me about the box,” said Polly breathlessly, pulling her feet off the table and sitting up straight. “What do you think is in it? Where do you think the key is? Did it belong to Winnifred? Do you think it has a secret compartment?”
“The whole box is a secret compartment until I figure out how to get it open,” I replied. “I looked through my grandmother’s dresser drawers, in her jewelry box, in my parents’ bedroom, all through the drawers in the kitchen. I couldn’t find a key that fit.”
“It’s got to be somewhere,” said Polly. “Maybe she kept it in a hidden drawer in her dresser, or under a loose floorboard in her room, or inside a false book—”
“I could try the study …” I said doubtfully.
Polly jumped to her feet. “Come on, let’s go look right now!” she said, shrugging on her coat and then pulling me along by the arm.
I grinned, in spite of myself. Ever-enthusiastic Polly, always ready to leap into the next adventure.
“Now wait a minute,” I said. “I don’t want you—”
“Not so fast,” said a squeaky voice behind her.
“You’re not going anywhere!” said another.
Polly whirled and there were the Horrors, blocking our way and looking as fierce as two grubby eight-year-old boys can when they’re dressed in snowsuits and flap-eared caps. One of them was clutching a book and the other was pointing his finger at me.
THE DRUNKEN GHOSTS
Polly
Before I could open my mouth to tell them to get lost, a tall figure swept out from among the bookshelves and came to rest between me and the Horrors. It was Mrs. Gardner. She stood with her back to me and her hands on her hips.
“ WHAT did I tell you about ever setting foot in the grown-ups’ library again?” she demanded in a surprisingly loud voice.
The twins cowered. It brought joy to my heart to see them like that.
“We were just—” spluttered Matthew.
“We were only—” gasped Mark.
“ OUT !” thundered Mrs. Gardner, advancing on them. “You’ve checked out your book so now you have no more business in this library. I’m going to phone your mother. You made a promise never to come into this section and …”
While she continued to lecture them fiercely, her back still to me, I beckoned to Rose and mouthed at her, COME ON, ROSE, LET ’ S GO !
She grabbed her coat and we slipped away. Soon we were heading up Parliament Street, past the scuzzy storefronts,Woolworth’s, Woman’s Bakery … I looked longingly at the heaps of fresh buns, cookies and tarts in the window of the bakery, but Rose dragged me past it.
“The key, remember?” she said.
We turned down Winchester, crossing the street so we wouldn’t have to walk past the Winchester Hotel. Rose moved quickly, casting nervous glances over her shoulder.
“Ghosts?” I inquired.
“Mmm,” she replied. “You don’t want to know what just came out of the hotel behind that guy with the filthy coat …”
Eeek.
Rose
What I saw coming out of the Winchester Hotel behind the tottering, boozy man in the long dirty coat was actually just another staggering drunk in a filthy coat, but both he and his coat hailed from a time when Victoria was Queen of England. Drunken ghosts didn’t bother me much, but Winchester Street, lined with ancient, ramshackle rooming houses, had the distinct aura of a place where any number of questionable ghosts could appear at any moment.
Our way home led past the cemetery, but I knew a way to avoid it. I ducked down a side street and led Polly through a couple of back alleys that brought us to the corner of Sumach and Amelia. Our street
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