Red Hart Magic Read Free Page A

grew. But he would find something; he was determined on that. Now he moved to the next big table. Toys—there waspart of a railroad set. Not much good unless you had more pieces; anyway he did not care for trains. Two Panda bears, and a whole row of dolls. A pile of jigsaw-puzzle boxes caught his eye, and he glanced at the cover pictures. No good. Not when he had no place he could start a puzzle and just leave it out. Turn up with one of those, and Aunt Elizabeth might ask questions.
    Impatiently he pushed past the toy table and reached the glass-fronted case at the very back of the store. Guns—old guns—and a sword! Again he realized there was no hope of ever keeping such a secret in the apartment.
    There were some plates, cups—Oh, these were the antiques, the old things people collected. He lingered before a set of dull-surfaced coins laid out carefully on a strip of threadbare velvet. But he did not know anything about coins. There was a box of stamps all thrown together—
    Chris knew what he longed to find, a buy so different that it would make this stay with Aunt Elizabeth worthwhile. He had to find it!
    “Looking for something, son?”
    Startled, Chris glanced up at the man standing behind the case. He was smiling but watchful. Maybe they watched all kids in here, thought they might grab something.
    “Got any model kits?” He asked to prove that he was a prospective customer and not a shoplifter.
    “Model kits? Let me see.” The man went to the wall shelves where there were boxes piled. Chris moved farther along the case. Beyond the box of stamps were three daggers laid out, one with a silver hilt. Chris regarded them longingly but knewhe had no chance of getting one of those. That man was not going to sell him a knife, not even if he could afford it.
    Beyond the daggers was something else. At first glance Chris thought it a dollhouse, but a very small one. He would have passed over it, except there was something about it— He had never seen a house just like it, except in a book once. And that picture flashed into his mind. It was not a doll-house. It was the model of an inn! There was the high arch of an entrance, flanking the smaller door; that was where the old coaches drove through to an inner courtyard. The upper part of the building was a cream yellow with broad dark beams across it in an angled pattern. The tiny windows had threadlike markings on them, dividing their glass into bits of panes, diamond in shape.
    “Here you are, Columbus's flagship, and a World War II bomber—”
    Chris hardly heard what the man said as he slid two boxes onto the top of the case.
    “That"—he pointed at the inn—"What's that? A doll-house?”
    “That? Oh, you mean the peep show.”
    Chris did not take his eyes from the inn as he asked, “What's a peep show?”
    “You look in the windows, see?” The man slid open the back of the case after he had unlocked it. He lifted out the inn and put it down before Chris. “It's old, that. A real unusual piece.”
    Chris fumbled for his money. “How much?” he demanded without taking his eyes from it. He knew he had found whathe had come for, something which would be his, transform this stay with Aunt Elizabeth into a period of time he could get through.
    “It's not a toy.” The man sounded impatient. “Not now anyway. It's an antique.”
    “How much?” Chris repeated doggedly. If Dad's gift was not enough, he would get the rest somehow. He had to have that! It was different from any model he had ever fooled around with, and he wanted to take it up in his hands, look through those tiny windows, just feel it.
    ‘Ten dollars.” The man's hand had already closed upon the inn. He was going to put it away again as if he were very sure that Chris did not have ten dollars.
    “I'll take it.” Chris brought out his bill, smoothed it flat. “See, I have the money, more than enough. It's mine,” he added, guessing what the expression on the man's face meant now. “I