by Jane Langton
“I’m sorry, gentlemen,” said Uncle Fred, “but both of you are wrong. This tree is none other than Arborea paradisa.”
“Vot?” said Professor Donbinkel.
“The tree of paradise,” explained Uncle Fred.
“How ridiculous,” said Professor Teasdale.
“How abzurd,” said Professor Donkbinkel.
The three of them huddled among the mossy roots in heated argument while over their heads the tree seemed contented to be itself, whatever that might be.
In October it littered the neighborhood with acorns. One fell in the front yard of Donald Swallow and buried itself in the grass near the stump of his old beech tree.
Next day, while Mr. Swallow was raking leaves in his front yard, he noticed a swelling in the ground. “Goodness me,” he said, “that wasn’t here before.” Then to his astonishment the little mound burst open and a tiny sprig popped up, unfolding a pair of fresh green leaves.
Other acorns fell in Monument Square and along the banks of the Mill Brook. Soon the whole town of Concord was once again bushy and green with trees.
But the tallest and most magnificent was the Dragon Tree. On a warm day in Indian summer, Eddy and Emerald climbed all the way to the top. From there they could see the whole broad countryside.
“Look,” said Eddy, pointing south, “there’s Walden Pond.”
“And the ocean,” said Emerald, pointing east.
“And church steeples all over the place,” said Eddy, waving his arms north, south, east, and west.
Then, pop, there was a small explosion. Looking up, they saw a spray of leaves erupt from the topmost twig. Then another and another.
“More stories,” said Emerald wisely, starting down.
“Right,” said Eddy, groping for a lower foothold. “People never stop writing stories.”
From her bedroom window Georgie watched them move slowly down from branch to branch. She sucked her pencil as they slid to the ground. She heard the bang of the front door as they walked into the house.
Georgie could not see the metal lady on the newel post smile down at Emerald. Nor could she see the bust of Henry wink one of his plaster eyes at Eddy. She was too busy gazing out her window at the grand old tree as the freshening breeze ruffled its leaves, showering the ground with a carpet of gold.
All summer long the tree had grown past her window, stretching taller and wider against the sky. For months it had been her green and growing neighbor. Therefore her story began in the only way it possibly could—
Once upon a time there was a tree.
THE HALL FAMILY CHRONICLES
THE DIAMOND IN THE WINDOW
THE SWING IN THE SUMMERHOUSE
THE ASTONISHING STEREOSCOPE
THE FLEDGLING
THE FRAGILE FLAG
THE TIME BIKE
THE MYSTERIOUS CIRCUS
THE DRAGON TREE
Copyright
The Dragon Tree
Copyright © 2008 by Jane Langton
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
EPub Edition © APRIL 2010 ISBN: 978-0-06-202039-0
Typography by Larissa Lawrynenko
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FIRST EDITION
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