“I'd like her to stay, if it's all right,” said Jeffrey.
“Batty, you have to be really, really quiet,” said Rosalind. “You too, Hound.”
Hound flopped onto the floor with a grunt. Jeffrey took off his backpack and settled down next to Hound.
“Ready, everyone?” said Rosalind. “Emergency MOOPS—no, MOPS—come to order.”
“Second the motion,” said Skye.
“Third it,” said Jane.
“Fourth,” said Batty.
“All swear to keep secret what is said here, even from Daddy, unless you think someone might do something truly bad,” said Rosalind, and held out her fist. Skye put her fist on top of Rosalind's, Jane put hers on top of Skye's, and Batty put hers on top of Jane's.
“You too,” said Rosalind to Jeffrey, and he put his fist on top of Batty's.
“This I swear, by the Penderwick Family Honor,” they all said, then broke their fists apart.
“Now, Jeffrey, tell us everything from the beginning,” said Rosalind.
“It started yesterday, when Mother was furious at me because—” He looked at Skye.
“I told them,” she said.
“Well, because of what happened in the music room. She was so angry she could barely talk to me. She just sent me to my room and told me to wait there. So I started playing the piano and the next thing I know Mother's barging in, telling me to pack an overnight bag and that I should include a suit and tie because we were going to Pencey for an interview An interview—just like that, all of a sudden! I got really upset and tried to tell her about not wanting to go to Pencey, but she wouldn't listen. She just said that I'd brought all this on myself and told me to hurry up with the packing. And then she ordered me downstairs and into Dexter's car, and we all started driving toward Pennsylvania.”
The sisters shivered. For the rest of their lives, they would want nothing to do with that state.
“When we got there, we stayed in a hotel, and that was sort of okay because I had my own room and there was this great old black-and-white movie on television called To Kill a Mockingbird.” Jeffrey stopped and looked like he was remembering the movie. “Anyway, the next morning they took me to Pencey It was even more horrible than I'd thought it would be. Everyone was frowning and saluting and marching around with rifles. I had an interview with Major Somebody who served under my grandfather in Vietnam and all he could talk about was how my grandfather was his idol. When he asked me why I wanted to go to Pencey, I told him it was the last place in the world I wanted to go, and he just laughed and patted me on the shoulder and said I'd feel different after I'd lived like a real soldier for a few weeks.
“After that, we went out to lunch—Dexter, Mother, and me—and they told me I'd be starting at Pencey in three weeks. Old Dexter tried to make it sound all terrific—he kept saying how grateful I should be that my mother wanted to send me to such a good school. When he finally shut up, I tried to tell Mother how much I hated Pencey and how going there would make me miserable, but she just cut me off again and said that a little discipline never harmed anyone, especially boys who'd been associating with the wrong kind of people—sorry, I should have left that part out.”
“Don't worry about it,” said Rosalind.
“I'm proud to be the wrong kind of people,” said Jane.
“Me too,” said Batty. “So's Hound.”
“What happened next?” said Skye.
“We drove back home, with Dexter going on and on about all the rich families that send their sons to Pencey and how there's this golf course across the street from the school and I'll be able to use my spare time playing golf, and Mother agreeing with him and saying how she was sure I'd love it when I got settled in. I didn't say a word—not a word—the whole ride home. I just sat in the backseat and planned how I was going to run away.” Jeffrey rubbed his eyes, hard, then started talking again very quickly. “And that's what I did. I went up to my room, pretending like everything was okay, and got ready to leave. I put their golf bag under the covers of my bed so that if Mother looks in, she'll think I'm asleep. Then I climbed down the rope ladder and came over here to say good-bye. I'll sleep tonight under Harry's tomato stand. When Harry shows up in the morning, I'll ask him to drive me to the bus station.”
Skye broke in. “But where are you going?”
“Boston. Churchie's daughter lives there, and she'll let me stay with her for a while, I know she will. I'll go to public school, and I'll get a job teaching little kids to play the piano so that I can pay for classes at that New England Conservatory of Music I told you about. Don't laugh.”
“We're not laughing,” said Rosalind.
“Because it's not as crazy as it sounds. If Churchie's daughter can't keep me, I have some distant cousins in Boston that Mother hasn't spoken to in years. Maybe when they find out she's not speaking to me, either, they'll like me and take me in until I'm a little older. I've got my birthday money still, which will pay for the bus ticket. Plus I've got these.” Jeffrey opened his backpack, pulled out several slim leather-bound books, and opened one. It was filled with unfamiliar-looking coins. “My grandfather collected rare coins and gave them to me before he died. I think they're worth a lot. I should be able to sell them in Boston. Right?”
“Right,” said Jane.
“And besides, maybe I'll find my—” He stopped, all of a sudden very busy petting Hound's ears.
“Your what?” asked Batty.
For a long while, there was no sound in the room except Hound's happy panting.
“I think he means his father,” said Skye finally.
Jeffrey stared defiantly around the circle of sisters. “Mother first met him in Boston, you know He might still be there. And it's true that I don't know his last name, but I don't look anything like Mother or Grandfather, either, no matter what Mother says, so I must look like my father—and then maybe I'll pass him on the street one day and he'll recognize me and I'll recognize him. It's not impossible!”
“Of course not,” said Jane. “The gods of fate may be kind.”
Jeffrey gave her a grateful smile. “That's what I thought.”
“Well—” said Rosalind.
“And I'll go with you to keep you company until Boston,” said Jane. “Then I can get a bus back to Cameron and meet Daddy and everybody day after tomorrow, when they go home.”
“What?” cried Skye. “I'm older! If anybody goes, it's me.”
“Order!” said Rosalind.
“I called dibs on it,” said Jane.
“Can I go, too?” said Batty.
“Order, come to order!” Rosalind pounded her fist into the bed.
“But—” said Skye.
“Be quiet, Skye. I'm serious,” said Rosalind. “We have to talk about this calmly. First of all, Jeffrey, you know your mother will come after you. If she can't find you right away, she'll send the police.”
“I don't care,” he said. “I won't go to Pencey And I won't live with Dexter, either. Mother can do whatever she wants. I won't change my mind. And what does it matter to her and Dexter where I am, anyway? They just want to get rid of me.”
“I don't know what the laws are, but—”
“This isn't about law, Rosy,” said Jane. “This is about heart and truth and adventure.”
“And sticking up for yourself,” said Skye.
“I see all that, and I know Jeffrey's mother isn't very good at listening”—Skye tried to interrupt, but Rosalind silenced her with a stern look—“but, Jeffrey, she does want what's best for you, even if she doesn't know what that is. If there's some way to make her understand how you feel about Pencey—”
“I can't make her understand!” Jeffrey cried it out like he was in pain. “I've tried and tried and tried.”
“I know you have.” And Rosalind did know She knew he'd tried as much as anyone could expect him to.
“I've got to go, Rosalind, don't you see?”
Against her better judgment, Rosalind told
the truth. “Yes, I do see.”
“Hurray!” said Jane.
“Thank you, Rosalind,” said Jeffrey. He suddenly looked desperately tired.
“But!” Rosalind held up her hand for order. “None of us are going along with him to Boston. How could you even think of doing that to Daddy?”
“You're right,” said Jane. “But we'll visit Jeffrey after he's settled.”
“And he can visit us in Cameron,” said Skye.
“To see Hound,” said Batty.
“Definitely Oh, and that reminds me. I brought something for Batty.” Jeffrey reached into his backpack and pulled out the picture of Hound she had given him for his birthday. “You keep this for me until I see you again, okay?”
“Okay.” Batty took the picture and showed it to Hound.
“All right, then,” said Rosalind. “Now, Jeffrey, there's no need for you to sleep under Harry's stand tonight. Batty can sleep in here with me, and you can have her room. I'll set my alarm clock and get you up and out of here early.”
“Wake us up, too, so we can say good-bye,” said Skye.
“And put together provisions for the hungry traveler,” said Jane.
“Now everyone go to bed,” said Rosalind. “It's late.”
Jane and Skye went off to their rooms, and Jeffrey took his backpack into Batty's room and stretched out on the bed in his clothes, but Batty had a lot of organizing to do before she could go to sleep. She had to tuck Funty into Rosalind's bed, then go back through the closet for Ursula the bear and then again for Fred the other bear. Rosalind put her foot down about Sedgewick the horse and Yaz, the new wooden rabbit—she said there would be no room left for people. Then Batty decided she couldn't sleep without her special unicorn blanket, so Jeffrey had to get up and let Rosalind switch that blanket with the green blanket from Rosalind's bed.
Batty finally agreed to settle down, but then there was the problem of Hound. What with Jeffrey in Batty's bed and Batty in Rosalind's bed with Rosalind, he was very confused. Where was he supposed to sleep? He knew Rosalind wouldn't allow him on her bed, even if there had been room. On the other hand, he knew that Jeffrey would allow him on his bed and he did love Jeffrey madly, but Jeffrey wasn't Batty. What was a dog to do? He went back and forth through the closet several times, whining, until Rosalind closed both doors and ordered him to sleep on the floor beside her bed.
“Guard Batty,” she said, which wasn't quite fair, because Batty didn't need guarding. But at least it was something that Hound understood. He gave out a great doggy sigh of relief, collapsed onto the floor, and fell instantly asleep.
Batty, too, was asleep in minutes. Then it was just Rosalind lying awake, worried about Jeffrey and whether she should be letting him run away. If he hadn't talked about his father like that—oh! the hungry look on his face—maybe she would have tried harder to talk him into staying. But still, was she making a terrible mistake? She wished she had someone to talk it over with, someone other than her younger sisters, who thought everything in life was an adventure. Someone like Cagney, for example. Except that she would never be able to talk comfortably with Cagney again. She might never talk to him again, period. He'd dropped by earlier to check on her, but she'd hidden like a baby in her bedroom, and now they were going home to Cameron the day after next, and he probably wouldn't try again. She would have nothing but memories, for she'd thrown away the white rose from his Fimbriata bush and asked her father to give back the Gettysburg book.
Memories and her bruise. She wriggled her arm out from under the covers and probed the sore place on her head. It was still painful—her father said it would be for a while—but at least it didn't show anymore for she'd rearranged her hair to cover it. Not much of a memento. Oh, well. She didn't really care about Cagney, him and his pretty Kathleen. Rosalind gave out a great sigh that sounded like Hound's, but hers wasn't of relief. Then at long last, blessedly, she fell asleep.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Next-to-Last Day
BATTY WOKE UP BEFORE ROSALIND'S alarm clock went off. There's no need for an alarm when a dog is licking your face.
“Go away,” she whispered to Hound. He pranced across the room and whined at the closet door. That wouldn't do—he would wake up Rosalind, who was still dreaming next to Ursula the bear. Batty slid out from bed, grabbed Hound by the collar, and tugged. Hound sat down and refused to budge. She tugged harder. All in vain.
Disgusted, Batty let go of Hound, padded over to the bedroom door, and opened it. Almost before she could leave the room, Hound had bounded past her and down the hall to plant himself in front of her bedroom door. “You want to see Jeffrey, don't you?” she said. Hound looked mournfully at her. “Well, I'd like to see him, too. But we can't, 'cause he's still asleep. So there.” Hound answered with one short, defiant yip, but when Batty started down the steps to the kitchen, he followed her.
Cereal was the only kind of breakfast Batty was allowed to fix by herself, and since the day she had spilled a gallon of milk on Hound's head, it had to be cereal without milk. She pulled a chair over to the counter, climbed on it, got down the Cheerios box, and climbed off the chair. Just as she did every morning, she first poured Cheerios onto the floor for Hound to lick up, then let him out the back door for what Mr. Penderwick called his morning rituals.
Now it was time for her own meal. She took the Peter Pan bowl off the low shelf where it was kept for her and paused with the Cheerios box in midair. Outside, Hound was barking as though under attack by aliens from outer space. Batty looked out the screen door. It wasn't aliens, though they would have seemed scarcely less dreadful to Batty. It was Mrs. Tifton and Dexter, and Hound was doing his best to keep them away from the cottage. Batty backed away from the door, but she was too late—Mrs. Tifton had seen her.
“Bitty! Let us in,” she heard Mrs. Tifton yell.
“Good dog.” That was Dexter, and Batty could tell he didn't mean it.
Mrs. Tifton was shouting again. “Dexter, get that dog out of my way!”
To Batty's horror, the next thing she heard was a smack and a loud dog yelp. She threw open the screen door and cried out to Hound. He rushed in and Batty threw her arms around his neck and whispered soothing love words in his ear.
Now Mrs. Tifton and Dexter were right at the door, peering in at Batty. Mrs. Tifton wasn't her usual tidy self. Her hair was sticking up in strange places, and she was wearing bedroom slippers and an old raincoat over her nightgown.
“Bitty, we're looking for Jeffrey. May we come in?” she said.
Batty's answer was to lock the screen door.
“By God, she's locked us out, Dexter!” said Mrs. Tifton. “Where's your father, you naughty child?”
“Remember, Brenda, she doesn't talk,” said Dexter.
“I heard her call the dog. She can talk if she wants to. Tell us if Jeffrey's here! I want my son!”
Batty wanted to run away from these awful people. But then who would stop them from coming into the house and hitting Hound again and finding Jeffrey and dragging him away? She had to be strong. Skye had said she was perfect. Well then, she would be perfect and protect the dog and people she loved.
Batty drew herself up and faced the enemy boldly. “It's not that I can't talk. It's that I don't like you, and Daddy says we're allowed to choose the people we talk to.”
“Your daddy can go to—” spat Mrs. Tifton.
“Brenda, please,” said Dexter. “Let me handle this.”
“Handle what?” said a voice behind Batty. “Good morning, Batty.”
“Oh, Daddy!” Batty threw her arms around his knees. “They hit Hound.”
“The child's exaggerating,” said Dexter. “I gave the dog a gentle tap to stop his barking. Pardon me, this hasn't been the best introduction. I'm Dexter Dupree. You're Martin Penderwick?”
“Glad to meet you, and good morning, Mrs. Tifton,” said Mr. Penderwick, stroking Batty's curls. “What can I do for you?”
“It's Jeffrey. He's go
ne. I woke up early because I was worried. You see, we'd gone on a trip and had a terrible argument—”
“Not terrible,” said Dexter.
“—and I went to see if he was feeling better and he wasn't in his room. There was only a golf bag in his bed and this note.” She pressed a scrap of paper against the screen.
“I'll never go to Pencey Don't bother to look for me,” read Mr. Penderwick.
“I don't understand the boy. Pencey is an excellent school,” said Dexter.
“Shut up, Dexter,” said Mrs. Tifton.
“That's dreadful news,” said Mr. Penderwick. “But why have you come to us? Jeffrey hasn't been here since the day before yesterday.”
“Oh my God.” Mrs. Tifton swayed a little. “I was hoping I'd find him here. Your daughters, though, they'll know where he's gone. Please ask your daughters.”
“Batty, do you know where Jeffrey is?” asked Mr. Penderwick, looking down at her. She said not a word but looked up at him pleadingly, with all her heart in her face. After a long moment, Mr. Penderwick unlocked the screen door. “I think you two had better come inside and sit down for a few minutes. I'll go upstairs and speak with the older three.”
“I'll come with you,” said Mrs. Tifton, bursting into the house and heading for the stairs.
“It's best for you to wait down here,” said Mr. Penderwick.
“I—” she said.
“Sit, please,” said Mr. Penderwick, firmly but kindly.
Mrs. Tifton collapsed into a kitchen chair and buried her face in her hands. Dexter, whose shoes Hound was suspiciously sniffing, sat down next to her and lifted his feet in the air.
“Come, Hound. You too, Batty,” said Mr. Penderwick, and the three of them climbed the stairs. Mr. Penderwick knocked on Rosalind's door.
The door opened a crack and Rosalind peeked out. “Good morning, Daddy. Whoops,” she said, and dove away from the door to turn off the alarm clock, which had just started beeping. As soon as she let go of the door, Hound pushed through, ran over to her closet, and barked. Rosalind grabbed him and dragged him back into the hall. As soon as she let go, he sidled down to Batty's door and barked again.
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