The Treasure of Alpheus Winterborn Read Free Page B

steamboat days that Mark Twain wrote about, but it still went on. Often during the night, Anthony could hear the horns of the barges hooting. The sound echoed in the hollow iron holds of the vessels. It was a lonely sound, but somehow nice to listen to as you lay in bed at night. Anthony thought that Hoosac was a nice place to live.
    When Anthony sat down at the dinner table with his family that evening, he was bursting with good news. His face showed it, and when his mother passed him the peas, she said suspiciously, “Well! What have you been up to, hmmm?”
    “I’ve got a job, Ma!” said Anthony excitedly.
    His mother stared at him blankly. “A job? Doing what?”
    “I’m gonna be a page down at the library. Miss Eells got me the job!”
    Mrs. Monday’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t like Miss Eells much because she was jealous of her. Mrs. Monday often behaved as if she didn’t like Anthony, either, but in her strange way she was greatly attached to him, and she resented the idea that somebody else might try to be a mother to him.
    “She wants you to work for nothing, I’ll bet!” replied Mrs. Monday.
    Anthony winced. Then he got angry. “No, she doesn’t, Ma!” he shouted. “She’s gonna give me a dollar an hour! Whaddaya think of that, huh?”
    “Mom can hear you, Tony,” said Keith, glancing nervously at his mother. “You don’t have to yell.”
    “I don’t care! She always thinks that Miss Eells is a kook or a crook, and she isn’t. She isn’t, she isn’t!” Anthony screamed these last words at the top of his voice.
    Mrs. Monday laid down her knife and fork and glared grimly at Anthony. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “Anthony Monday, if you cannot control yourself any better than that, you had better leave the table. Go up to your room at once!”
    Anthony got up, shoved his chair back into its place, and walked out of the room. He went upstairs, sat down at his desk, and cried.
    Later, when everybody else had finished eating, Anthony came down and ate his cold food. Then he decided that he would go out to the garage to see what his brother was up to. On his way out, he passed through the kitchen, where his mother was washing dishes.
    “I’ll bet she never pays you,” Mrs. Monday said without turning around. Anthony said nothing. He clattered down the back steps and went out to the garage.
    Anthony’s older brother, Keith, was nuts about cars. When he was little, he used to play endlessly with cars and trucks, and he had really never grown out of it. The side yard of the Mondays’ house was strewn with rusting radiators, dented fenders, and other car parts. At present, Keith was working on the family car. The hood was open, and from the ceiling of the garage hung a spotlight on a long cord. Keith was dressed in gray coveralls, and his hands and face were streaked with grease. Wrenches and rags lay draped on the fender. When he heard the side door of the garage open, he looked up and smiled. “Hi, kid! Hey, don’t listen to the things that Mom says. She doesn’t always know what she’s talkin’ about! I think it’s great that you got a job. When I was your age, I couldn’t even get a job as a crummy paper boy. Congratulations!”
    Anthony beamed. He liked his brother a lot, and at times like this, he liked him more than he could say. Anthony hung around the garage for an hour, just watching Keith work and talking to him. Then he went in to do his homework. He felt a lot better.
    The next day after school, Anthony started his new job. It turned out to be a lot of fun. He liked poking around in the stacks, climbing up on ladders, and fetching down books for people. He felt important when he sat at the main desk and looked around at all the people who were sitting and reading in armchairs or at tables. He even enjoyed answering the weird questions that people asked him over the phone, like “Who were the first three governors of Minnesota?” or “Could you find out for me the real