The Great Gilly Hopkins Read Free Page A

feel mighty close to all Mrs. Trotter’s children. Little William Ernest is like a grandson to me. So I feel sure…”
    â€œWatch the door!”
    â€œYes, yes, I thank you.”
    â€œIs that you Mr. Randolph?” came Trotter’s voice from inside.
    â€œYes, indeed, Mrs. Trotter, with the sweetest little escort you’d ever hope to see.”
    Trotter appeared in the hallway with her hands on her hips. “How you doing in this cold weather?”
    â€œNot my best, I’m afraid. This sweet little girl had to keep me from falling right down on my face.”
    â€œDid she now?”
    See there, Trotter? I managed.
    â€œI guess this old house is going to be a bit more lively now, eh, Mrs. Trotter?”
    â€œWouldn’t be surprised,” answered Trotter in a flat voice that Gilly couldn’t read the meaning of.
    The meal proceeded without incident. Gilly was hungry but thought it better not to seem to enjoy her supper too much. William Ernest ate silently and steadily with only an occasional glance at Gilly. She could tell that the child was scared silly of her. It was about the only thing in the last two hours that had given her any real satisfaction. Power over the boy was sure to be power over Trotter in the long run.
    â€œI declare, Mrs. Trotter,” said Mr. Randolph, “every day I think to myself, tonight’s supper couldn’t be as delicious as last night’s. But I tell you, this is the most delicious meal I have ever had the privilege of eating.”
    â€œMr. Randolph, you could flatter the stripe off a polecat.”
    Mr. Randolph let out a giggling laugh. “It isn’t flattery, I assure you, Mrs. Trotter. William Ernest and Miss Gilly will bear me out in this. I may be old, but I haven’t lost my sense of taste, even if some folks maintain I’ve lost the other four.”
    They went on and on like that. Mr. Randolph flattering the fat woman, and the fat woman eating it up like hot-fudge sundae with all the nuts.
    What I should do, thought Gilly, as she lay that night in the narrow bed with her arms folded under her head, What I should do is write my mother. Courtney Rutherford Hopkins would probably sue county welfare if she knew what kind of place they’d forced her daughter to come to.
    Miss Ellis (whose eyebrows always twitched when Gilly asked questions about Courtney) had once told her that Courtney was from Virginia. Everybody knew, didn’t they, that families like Courtney’s did not eat with colored people? Courtney Rutherford Hopkins was sure to go into a rage, wasn’t she, when she heard that news? Perhaps the self-righteous Trotter would be put into jail for contributing to the delinquency of a minor. Miss Ellis would, of course, be fired. Yum!
    She’ll come to get me then, for sure, thought Gilly. Her mother wouldn’t stand for her beautiful Galadriel to be in a dump like this for one single minute, once she knew. But how was she to know? Miss Ellis would never admit it. What kind of lies was the social worker telling Courtney to keep her from coming to fetch Gilly?
    As she dropped off to sleep, Gilly promised herself for the millionth time that she would find out where Courtney Rutherford Hopkins was, write to her, and tell her to come and take her beautiful Galadriel home.

MORE UNPLEASANT SURPRISES
    I n the tiny mirror over the bureau Gilly noted with no little satisfaction that her hair was a wreck. Yesterday before the bubble gum got into it, it had looked as though it simply needed combing. Today it looked like a lot that had been partially bulldozed—an uprooted tree here, a half wall with a crumbling chimney there. It was magnificent. It would run Trotter wild. Gilly bounced down the stairs and into the kitchen.
    She held her head very straight as she sat at the kitchen table and waited for the fireworks.
    â€œI’ll take you down to the school a little after nine, hear?”