Read All About It. Valerie Tripp

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СКАЧАТЬ “Margaret,” Mrs. Wolf was saying, “your sponge cake is perfection. Mine is just that—a sponge!” Mrs. Wolf hooted at her own joke before she went on. “Please give me your recipe.”

      “I’d be glad to,” said Mother, just as Kit and Ruthie stepped onto the terrace. Mother looked as cool and slender as a mint leaf in her pale green dress. Kit wanted to fling herself at Mother and hug her. But she held herself back. Her fingers had typewriter ink on them. It would never do to leave ink stains on Mother’s perfect green dress!

      Mother smiled when she saw the girls. Then she turned to her guests and said, “Ladies, you remember Ruth Ann Smithens and my daughter Kit, don’t you?”

      “Yes, of course!” said the ladies. “Hello, girls!”

      “Hello,” said Kit and Ruthie politely.

      “Do help yourselves to some refreshments, girls,” said Mother.

      “We will!” said Kit and Ruthie, smiling broadly.

      The girls filled their plates and retreated to a corner behind a potted palm to enjoy their feast and observe the ladies. At first the ladies discussed garden club business, such as how to get rid of bugs, slugs, and other garden pests. It was pretty boring, although the girls did get giggly when Mrs. Willmore said she was just beside herself because she had spots on her phlox.

      Then the talk moved on to who was going to weed the flower bed at the hospital, which the garden club ladies took turns doing.

      “I believe it is my turn,” said Mrs. Howard. “But I’m afraid I won’t be able to weed this month. In fact…” She hesitated, and blinked her big round eyes. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to be part of the garden club at all anymore.”

      Kit and Ruthie looked at each other and raised their eyebrows. This sounded interesting. Why would Mrs. Howard be quitting the garden club? Kit leaned forward so that she could hear better. There may be a story in this for our newspaper, she thought.

      All the ladies murmured that they were sorry, and Mother said, “Oh, Louise! That’s too bad!”

      “Well,” said Mrs. Howard, “I’m moving to Chicago. My husband is already there, and so my son Stirling and I are going to join him. He’s pursuing a business opportunity.”

      “Ahh!” said all the ladies brightly. They all knew what that meant. Kit did, too. It meant that Mr. Howard had gone to Chicago to look for a job. Everyone knew that Mr. Howard had not had a job for two years, ever since the company he worked for here in Cincinnati had gone out of business.

      “Where will you live in Chicago?” a lady asked.

      “I’m not sure yet,” said Mrs. Howard, blinking again. “Mr. Howard hasn’t settled anywhere. We’ll be hither, thither, and yon for a while!”

      The ladies smiled, but Kit saw little lines of concern on their faces. The whole thing sounded pretty fishy to Kit. If the Howards have no place to live in Chicago, why are they leaving their house in Cincinnati? she wondered. Then suddenly, it dawned on her. The Howards couldn’t stay in their house. They didn’t have enough money anymore. And Mr. Howard didn’t have a job or a place for them to live in Chicago, either. That was the truth—Kit was sure of it. She was pretty sure that all the ladies knew it, too, but no one would say it out loud.

      There was an awkward silence. Then Mother spoke up and made everything better. “I have a marvelous idea, Louise!” she said to Mrs. Howard. “We’d love it if you and dear Stirling would stay in our guest room until your husband is settled in Chicago and sends for you. Stirling is about Kit’s age. I’m sure they’ll get along beautifully.”

      Ruthie nudged Kit, but Kit held her finger to her lips to signal Ruthie not to say anything.

      The ladies turned toward Mrs. Howard, waiting anxiously for her answer to Mother’s invitation.

      “Well,” said Mrs. Howard slowly. “If you’re sure it isn’t too much trouble, Stirling and I would love to stay. Thank you, Margaret.”

      “That’s all settled, then,” said Mother calmly.

      All the ladies brightened up, as if a cloud had blown away. Kit started scribbling notes on her notepad, and Ruthie whispered to her, “Who’s this boy Stirling?”

      Kit shrugged. “He’s Mrs. Howard’s son, I guess,” she said. “I haven’t met him.”

      “You will,” said Ruthie. “He’s going to be living in your house.”

      “Looks like it,” said Kit. She liked the idea. Boys were always up to something. Stirling was sure to be a good source of stories for her newspaper for Dad. And it would be nice to have a boy around, especially after Charlie left for college. She and Stirling could play catch together. They could talk about the Cincinnati Reds baseball team, which Kit loved and Ruthie, quite frankly, didn’t care about. And Stirling could join in when she and Ruthie acted out stories from the books they read.

      Kit grinned at Ruthie. “When we play Robin Hood, Stirling can be the Sheriff of Nottingham,” she said. “Boys like to be the bad guy.”

      Ruthie had a big bite of cake in her mouth. She swallowed, then grinned back at Kit. “Well,” she said. “You never know. Stirling might rather be Prince Charming and perform good deeds.”

      “He’s already done one good deed,” said Kit.

      “What?” asked Ruthie.

      “Come on,” said Kit. “I’ll show you.”

      The two girls slipped back inside the house and ran up the stairs to Kit’s room. Kit stood in front of the typewriter. “Stirling’s given us a headline,” she said to Ruthie. “Look.”

      Kit typed in capital letters:

      THE HOWARDS ARE COMING!

      Read All About It

       CHAPTER 2

       it’s real name was Margaret Mildred Kittredge. She was named after her mother and an aunt of her dad’s. But when she was very little, her dad used to sing her a song that went like this:

       Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag and smile, boys, smile…

      It was a song he’d learned when he was a soldier fighting in the Great War. Kit loved it. She’d beg Dad, “Sing my song! Sing the kit song!” Pretty soon everyone began to call her Kit, which was also short for Kittredge, and the name stuck. Kit didn’t like the name Margaret Mildred anyway. It didn’t fit her. It was too flouncy. Kit was not a flouncy girl.

      Right now she was feeling especially exasperated with flounces, because the stool she was sitting on was covered with them. Ruthie and the garden club ladies had left, and Kit was finishing her newspaper for Dad. She had to sit with one leg bent under her to reach the typewriter because the new СКАЧАТЬ