Who Won the War? by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

me!” said Mrs. Hatford.
    The lights flickered on again, then went off. Everyone waited. They did not come back on.
    “Better get the candles, Ellen,” Mr. Hatford called. “I'll go light that kerosene lantern for the living room.”
    There was just enough evening light in the sky to maneuver around the house as the Hatford boys set candles here and there, making sure they were secure in their holders.
    “You boys get some flashlights for the girls,” said their dad.
    “What about us?” asked Jake.
    “You know this house better than they do. I think you can find your way around all right,” said his father.
    The boys grumbled a little, but they found small flashlights for all three girls, and soon candles flickered in the rooms downstairs, and moving circles of light traveled from room to room.
    It was sort of exciting at first, but after an hour went by, then two, everything anyone wanted to do seemed to take twice as long—brushing teeth, working a puzzle, reading the comics. Without the air conditioner, the humidity seeped back into the house and the temperature rose.
    “What we need is some entertainment,” Mrs. Hatford said. “Tom, did anything exciting happen on your mail route today that you can tell us about?”
    “Almost ran over a cow. Not much more than that,” Mr. Hatford said from his recliner. “If Mr. Foster doesn't keep those cows penned, he's going to lose one, and somebody's going to have himself a steak dinner.”
    Though the worst of the rain had passed, thelightning continued from time to time, and the thunder was like the low growl of a dog.
    “Well, I think we need a little more to entertain us than a cow,” Mrs. Hatford said. “Does anyone know a poem or something to recite for us?”
    “Caroline knows some of ‘The Raven,’ by Poe,” said Mrs. Malloy.
    “By all means, let's hear it, Caroline!” Mrs. Hatford said. “It's been years since I've heard that poem.”
    “I remember reading it in high school,” said Mr. Hatford.
    Caroline looked around. This was for real. This was better than the boys asking for a poem. She , Caroline Lenore Malloy, was being called upon to give a presentation.
    The boys started to clap. “Car-o-line! Car-o-line!” they chanted, even though she knew they didn't mean it.
    Caroline stood up and went to stand by the kerosene lamp on the coffee table. She cleared her throat and then began in her best and spookiest voice:
“Once upon a midnight dreary,
while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume
of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping,
suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping
at my chamber door.
‘ ’Tis some visitor,' I muttered,
‘tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.’ ”
    Caroline used her hands to gesture toward the front door, and their movements made shadows dance on the walls. She continued:
“Ah, distinctly I remember it was in
the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought
its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;
vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—
sorrow for the lost Lenore …”
    Caroline pronounced the name clearly and distinctly, because she felt that Edgar Allan Poe had written this poem just for her. She placed her hand over her heart as she went on.
“For the rare and radiant maiden
whom the angels named Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore….”
    She saw Josh and Jake nudge each other and smirk. She stopped reciting, but not for that reason. “I'm sorry, but that's all I memorized,” she said. “It's a really long poem.”
    “Why, Caroline, we've got that in a book,” said Mrs. Hatford. “It belonged to my grandmother. Let me find it for you.”
    She walked across the room and reached high on a shelf for the book of poetry. Caroline was pleased that none of the boys groaned. They might have been making fun of her because of her name, but down deep, Caroline