The Penderwicks at Point Mouette Read Free

“By the way, you’re squashing Batty.”
    “Sorry.” Rosalind relaxed her grip on Batty, who started breathing again. “I’ve mentioned drowning, of course. Maybe I should start with the next-to-last rule.”
    “How many rules are there?” asked Skye.
    “Six.” Rosalind reached under her bed and pulled out a bright orange life preserver. “Rule Five: Batty wears this whenever she’s near the ocean.”
    “We’re staying on the coast. Batty is always going to be near the ocean.”
    “Then she will always wear it.”
    “Even when I sleep?” asked Batty.
    “Of course not, honey.” Rosalind buckled the preserver onto Batty and felt safer just seeing it there. Many dangers might lurk for Batty in Maine, but drowning wouldn’t be one of them. “All right, I’ll start over. Rule One: Help Aunt Claire with meals and cleaning up. Rule Two: No squabbling with each other. Three—What, Skye?”
    “We’ve already worked this stuff out.”
    “We made pacts about no fighting,” added Jane.“And we’ve divided up the meal chores. I’ll help with cooking. I know I’m not much good at it, but Skye is worse. Sorry, Skye.”
    “It’s true, though, so I’ll do the cleaning up.”
    “And I’m going to set the table,” said Batty. “Skye said I could.”
    “Oh, well, good.” Rosalind took another moment to gather herself all over again. “Rule Three: Don’t let Hound eat things he shouldn’t, but of course you already know that. What about Rule Four? Be polite to strangers, because you’re representing the Penderwicks in Maine, which is an entirely new state for us.”
    “We hadn’t thought about meeting strangers,” said Jane. “That’s a nice idea, Rosy.”
    “We’ve done Rule Five. Rule Six—”
    She was interrupted by a clunking sound, which turned out to be Asimov diving into Rosalind’s wastebasket in search of who knew what. Feeling left out, Hound tried to go in after him, but only his nose fit, which was quite enough to annoy Asimov, and soon the floor was littered with old tissues and such, and Asimov had been banished to the hallway and Hound told to stay still or else.
    “It’s because they’ll miss each other,” said Batty.
    Rosalind tossed the last tissue back into the wastebasket. “Now, where was I?”
    Her answer was the sound of the doorbell, announcing a visitor at the front door. Rosalind knewexactly who’d arrived, because she’d asked him to come to say good-bye. She had a list of rules for him, too, though she knew better than to give them to him.
    “Tommy?” asked Jane.
    “He’s a little early.” Rosalind started talking more quickly. “Rule Six: No revenge on Mrs. T-D or Dexter, either the magical or actual kind.”
    The doorbell chimed again.
    “Go see Tommy,” said Skye.
    “For your romantic farewells,” added Jane.
    Rosalind was determined to keep control over her own MOPS, but even Batty seemed to be against her, yawning suddenly.
    “I’ll put her to bed,” said Skye. “You can say good night to her after Tommy goes.”
    “You’ll tell her a story?” asked Rosalind piteously.
    “Jane will, won’t you, Jane?”
    Jane nodded, and Skye declared the MOPS officially closed. Defeated, but happy to be on her way to Tommy, Rosalind left the room. Listening to her clatter down the steps, the others sat quietly, missing her already. Only Hound went on as if nothing important had happened, sneakily shoving his nose back into the wastebasket.
    “No revenge,” said Jane after a while. “Didn’t she like the curse I wrote for Dexter and Mrs. T-D?”
    “The part about entrails upset her.” Skye stood up. “Let’s get Batty to bed.”
    “Nrgwug,” said Batty in a strangled sort of voice.
    She’d tried to get out of the life preserver without unbuckling it and was now hopelessly entangled, her face hidden and her arms sticking out of all the wrong places. Freeing her took a while, what with her hair catching on one buckle and Hound tugging