looked into all the rooms. Two of them were crammed full of stuff: suitcases and boxes and hatboxes, enormous old trunks with leather straps, stacks of papers and portraits in broken frames and mildewed books and paper-wrapped packages and grocery bags stuffed with who knows what, all of it draped in swags of dusty cobwebs.
The third room was a tiny bathroom that hadnt been cleaned for a while.
But the fourth room was wonderful. It was big and airy, with windows on two sides. The tower formed one corner of it, making a circular alcove with windows all around and a wide window seat running beneath themthe perfect place for sitting with a book on a sunny day, or with lamplight over your shoulder on a dark day like this one. Nickie guessed that this room had been a nursery, because old toys were jumbled into cabinets along one wall. A rolled-up rug lay at one end of the room, and by the windows was a rocking chair. At the far end of the room stood an iron bed, neatly made, as if just waiting for her.
This would be her room, she decided. She loved it already.
As she was about to go back into the hall, a sound stopped her. It was a sort of squeak, or cry, cut short as if someone had clapped a hand over the squeakers mouth. Nickie stood still and listened. At first she heard nothingjust the patter of the rain on the windows. She was about to move on when she heard it againtwo squeaks this time, and a bump. It seemed to be coming from the closet.
She froze, suddenly remembering the light shed seen from the street. What if someone dangerous was hiding in the closet? A burglar surprised in the middle of a burglary? Or a homeless person whod sneaked into the house? Or even a terrorist? She hesitated.
There was another squeakvery faint, but definitely coming from the closet. In a choked voice, Nickie said, Whos in there?
No answer.
Nickies curiosity took over. This happened to her a lot. Her hunger for finding things out was so strong that it overcame caution and even common sense. So now, although she was afraid, she dashed to the closet, flung open the door, and leapt back.
Inside, pressed up against the rear wall, half hidden by shirts and dresses dangling from hangers, was a tall, thin girl with wide, terrified eyes. Her hands were wrapped around the muzzle of a small, wildly squirming dog.
CHAPTER 3 ______________
The Girl in the Closet
Nickie stared. The girl stared back. The dog wriggled in her arms and paddled its hind legs frantically.
Who are you? Nickie asked.
The girl hunched up her shoulders and craned her head toward Nickie. She had a long face and thin brown straggly hair. Her front teeth were a little crooked. Please, she said in a hoarse whisper. Dont tell that Im here. Please dont tell. The girl stepped cautiously out of the closet. Im not supposed to be here, she said. The dog wrenched its muzzle out of her hands and yelped. She grabbed it again. She was wearing jeans and a limp green sweater. Nickie could see that the girl was older than she wasa teenager.
But whyare you here? said Nickie.
I took care of the old man, the girl said. She spoke in a trembly whisper. For the last six months, till he died. But now I dont have nowhere to go, and if they find me, theyll put me in a home. And take him away. She ducked her chin toward the dog. So I need to stay here till I can figure out what to do next.
Whats your name? Nickie asked. She spoke in a whisper, too.
Amanda Stokes, said the girl. Whats yours?
Nickie told her. Arthur Green was my great-grandfather, she said. My family owns this house now.
Oh, Lord, said Amanda. She had a worried-looking face, as if shed been worrying all her life. Are you going to come and live here?
Yes, said Nickie firmly. But not right away.
So you wont tell that Im here?
Nickie considered. Would it be wrong to keep this girl a secret? She didnt want to do anything wrong. But it seemed to her that telling on Amanda would cause more harm than not. What would it matter if
The third room was a tiny bathroom that hadnt been cleaned for a while.
But the fourth room was wonderful. It was big and airy, with windows on two sides. The tower formed one corner of it, making a circular alcove with windows all around and a wide window seat running beneath themthe perfect place for sitting with a book on a sunny day, or with lamplight over your shoulder on a dark day like this one. Nickie guessed that this room had been a nursery, because old toys were jumbled into cabinets along one wall. A rolled-up rug lay at one end of the room, and by the windows was a rocking chair. At the far end of the room stood an iron bed, neatly made, as if just waiting for her.
This would be her room, she decided. She loved it already.
As she was about to go back into the hall, a sound stopped her. It was a sort of squeak, or cry, cut short as if someone had clapped a hand over the squeakers mouth. Nickie stood still and listened. At first she heard nothingjust the patter of the rain on the windows. She was about to move on when she heard it againtwo squeaks this time, and a bump. It seemed to be coming from the closet.
She froze, suddenly remembering the light shed seen from the street. What if someone dangerous was hiding in the closet? A burglar surprised in the middle of a burglary? Or a homeless person whod sneaked into the house? Or even a terrorist? She hesitated.
There was another squeakvery faint, but definitely coming from the closet. In a choked voice, Nickie said, Whos in there?
No answer.
Nickies curiosity took over. This happened to her a lot. Her hunger for finding things out was so strong that it overcame caution and even common sense. So now, although she was afraid, she dashed to the closet, flung open the door, and leapt back.
Inside, pressed up against the rear wall, half hidden by shirts and dresses dangling from hangers, was a tall, thin girl with wide, terrified eyes. Her hands were wrapped around the muzzle of a small, wildly squirming dog.
CHAPTER 3 ______________
The Girl in the Closet
Nickie stared. The girl stared back. The dog wriggled in her arms and paddled its hind legs frantically.
Who are you? Nickie asked.
The girl hunched up her shoulders and craned her head toward Nickie. She had a long face and thin brown straggly hair. Her front teeth were a little crooked. Please, she said in a hoarse whisper. Dont tell that Im here. Please dont tell. The girl stepped cautiously out of the closet. Im not supposed to be here, she said. The dog wrenched its muzzle out of her hands and yelped. She grabbed it again. She was wearing jeans and a limp green sweater. Nickie could see that the girl was older than she wasa teenager.
But whyare you here? said Nickie.
I took care of the old man, the girl said. She spoke in a trembly whisper. For the last six months, till he died. But now I dont have nowhere to go, and if they find me, theyll put me in a home. And take him away. She ducked her chin toward the dog. So I need to stay here till I can figure out what to do next.
Whats your name? Nickie asked. She spoke in a whisper, too.
Amanda Stokes, said the girl. Whats yours?
Nickie told her. Arthur Green was my great-grandfather, she said. My family owns this house now.
Oh, Lord, said Amanda. She had a worried-looking face, as if shed been worrying all her life. Are you going to come and live here?
Yes, said Nickie firmly. But not right away.
So you wont tell that Im here?
Nickie considered. Would it be wrong to keep this girl a secret? She didnt want to do anything wrong. But it seemed to her that telling on Amanda would cause more harm than not. What would it matter if
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