Three Wishing Tales
Page 10
“Not exactly,” Alice admitted. “A man gave them to us. We helped him when he was in trouble.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Mr. Nelson asked.
“You always told us not to take things from strangers,” Alice said. “I was afraid you’d be angry. I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“Well, I’ll keep these coins for you and Tom until you’re older,” Mr. Nelson said. “And next time you want to lie about something remember how much trouble it can cause.”
Tom and Alice spent the rest of the afternoon in the pool. Their mother and father sat on a bench under the peach tree. “Who could believe that a little pool could be so much fun for the children?” Mrs. Nelson said. “Aren’t you glad you didn’t let the water out?”
Mr. Nelson was watching Tom. “He almost seems to be swimming. But of course that pool is only deep enough to wade in.”
After supper, before it got dark, Tom and Alice took Freckles to the park. They made their way to the cave.
“We have to thank Merlin,” Alice said. “It was my touching the Eye of Horus and then touching Daddy that did the trick.”
Tom was first up the bank. He pulled aside the vines. “Al,” he said, “look!”
The twisted bar had been replaced by a shiny new one. There was no longer any way to get into the cave. The children looked through the bars. The big cave was gone. There was just an empty drainage pipe going back into the hill.
“Peg, listen! There’s that bird again! I wonder where he is. He sounds so close.” Brian turned around and ran back into the park.
“Come back,” Peggy called. “It’s time to go home.”
Their mother always said, “Prospect Park is not safe after dark.” Peggy looked at the sky. It was beginning to turn pink.
Brian was running down the old stone walk. Peggy was older than her brother. She knew she had to make him leave the park. She raced after him.
The crumbling walk curved between the trees. Peggy was out of breath when she reached Brian. He was standing in the middle of the walk staring up into an old beech tree.
Brian pointed at the top of the tree. “There he is!”
Peggy looked up. The branches of the tree were bare. She could see the bird against the sky. It was November. But the bird had his head tipped back and was singing as if it were April.
He was about as big as a robin, but he was gray in color. At first Peggy thought he sounded like a robin. But then he changed his tune. He chirped and trilled and twittered a number of different songs.
The bird caught sight of the children. He cocked his head to look down at them. But he went on singing. He seemed to be happy to have someone listening to him. He sang and sang.
At last the bird stopped singing. He shook his feathers. Then he fluttered off the branch and flew up into the air and away.
Brian grabbed Peggy’s arm. “Look at the tree,” he whispered.
Peggy stared at the trunk of the tree. There seemed to be little faces peeking out of it.
“Peg, I’m scared!” Brian tugged at her arm.
“Don’t be silly.” Peggy pulled him over to the tree. As they came closer, they saw that the thick trunk was twisted and lumpy. “It’s just the shadows on these lumps.” Peggy reached out to touch the tree.
“Be careful how you fool with that tree!” someone said.
Peggy and Brian jumped back. They saw an old woman in a shabby brown coat and a floppy hat sitting on a stone bench beside the walk. Peggy and Brian had often seen her in the park. But she had never spoken to them.
“What did you say?” Peggy asked.
The woman was looking into the air where the bird had flown. She didn’t answer when Peggy spoke to her. A shopping bag was lying on its side at her feet.
Brian pointed to the shopping bag. Peggy saw two shining eyes looking out of it. The next minute a striped gray cat slipped out and ran behind the tree.
“Your cat got away,” Brian said.
The woman turned to look at him. She saw that the shopping bag was on its side, so she set it upright. Then she reached into it and took out a folded blue cloth. She gave the cloth a little pat and put it back into the bag.
The woman stood up. She picked up the shopping bag and went down the walk farther into the park. Peggy and Brian walked the other way to get to the park gate.
Peggy looked back at the tree. The little faces on the twisted trunk seemed to be laughing at her.
It was dark in the park now. The dry leaves on the walk made a whispery noise as the wind blew them along.
“It’s spooky in here.” Brian began to run. Peggy chased after him.
They didn’t stop running until they had gone through the park gate and were on the sidewalk outside the tall iron fence.
“I know it’s silly,” Peggy said, “but I feel as if something is following us.”
“Something is.” Brian pointed. “Look!”
A striped gray tomcat was coming through the park gate. When he saw the children he sat down and watched them. But when they began to walk he got up and trotted along behind.
Peggy and Brian crossed the wide Brooklyn street by the park. They had to walk two blocks to the house where they lived. The cat followed them. They came to a corner and had to wait for a traffic light to change. The cat sat down and waited too.
When they reached home, Peggy rang the doorbell. Her mother opened the door.
“You’re late,” Mrs. Dobson said. “I was beginning to worry. Supper’s almost ready.”
Peggy walked into the house. Brian came in after her. And the gray cat slipped through the door after Brian.
“Who’s this?” Mrs. Dobson asked.
The cat sat down in the middle of the front hall and looked up at her with big green eyes.
“He followed us home from the park, Mom,” Brian said.
“He belongs to an old lady who spends a lot of time in the park,” Peggy told her mother. “She keeps him in a shopping bag.”
“He ran away from her.” Brian walked over to the cat. “Didn’t you, Puss?”
The cat rubbed against Brian’s knee. Brian bent over to stroke him. The cat stood on his hind legs and reached up to pat Brian’s cheek. He purred into his ear.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Mrs. Dobson said. “You can take the cat back to the park and give him to the lady.”
“She didn’t seem to mind that he ran away,” Peggy said.
“You still ought to give him back to her,” Mrs. Dobson said. “Meantime, I’ll take him into the kitchen. Now go and get ready for supper.”
Peggy and Brian hung up their jackets and went upstairs to wash their hands.
“Peg,” Brian whispered. “That’s no ordinary cat. We’ve got to get Mom to let us keep him.”
“He looks about as ordinary as a cat can be.” Peggy picked up the soap and started to lather her hands.
“Don’t laugh, Peg. And promise you won’t tell anybody.” Brian took the soap from her.
“What are you trying to say?” Peggy rinsed her hands and dried them.
“That cat can talk!” Brian told her. “I called him Puss, and he said, ‘How did you know my name?’ ”
“Peggy! Brian!” Mrs. Dobson was calling from the bottom of the stairs. “Hurry! Supper’s on the table.”
Peggy left the bathroom and went downstairs. Brian finished washing his hands and followed her. When they came into the dining room their father was already cutting up the pot roast.
Mrs. Dobson was serving it. “Pass me your plate, Peggy,” she said.
Brian sat down at the table. “Mom, why don’t we keep the cat?”
“He belongs to someone else, Brian,” Mrs. Dobson said.
“Besides,” Mr. Dobson added, “if you really want a cat, we should buy a kitten from a pet shop.”
“The lady with the shopping bag doesn’t want Puss,” Brian said. “You can come to the park with us tomorrow, Dad, and ask her yourself.”
“What a good idea, George!
” Mrs. Dobson said. “Why don’t you go for a walk with the children? The exercise would do you good.”
“The Army-Navy game is on television tomorrow.” Mr. Dobson put down the carving knife and picked up his fork. “Would you please pass the potatoes.”
“But, Dad,” Brian said. “What about Puss?”
“I don’t want to hear anything more about cats,” Mr. Dobson said.
Peggy thought she’d better change the subject. “We heard a bird in the park, Daddy. It was all by itself in a tree. But it sang so many songs that it sounded as if the tree was full of birds.”
“Now that is something worth talking about.” Mr. Dobson put down his fork. “What color was the bird?”
“Gray,” Brian told him.
“With a white patch on its wings,” Peggy said. “I saw the white when it flew away.”
“How big was it?” Mrs. Dobson asked.
“About like this.” Brian showed her with his hands.
“It must have been a mockingbird,” Mr. Dobson said. “I’ve read that some of them have come north. I haven’t seen one since I was a kid in Virginia. There were lots there. My mother used to feed them.”
Mrs. Dobson smiled. “Maybe this one will come to our bird feeder.”
“Not if you keep a cat,” Mr. Dobson said. “But anyway, they don’t eat birdseed. My mother used to chop up raisins and fat for them.”
When it was time for dessert, Mrs. Dobson took what was left of the pot roast into the kitchen. Peggy carried out the dinner plates.
The gray cat was sitting beside the garbage can. Mrs. Dobson took the plates from Peggy and scraped the leftover bits of fat and gravy into a pie pan. Then, to Peggy’s surprise, her mother chopped off a hunk of meat from the pot roast and put it into the pan with the scraps. She put the pan on the floor beside the cat. “There you are, Puss.”
The cat’s green eyes opened wide. And so did his mouth. For a moment he looked as if he were going to say something. But Peggy knew cats can’t talk. He just looked at Mrs. Dobson and then began to eat.
After supper everybody helped load the dishwasher. Then Peggy and Brian went to their rooms to do their homework. Mr. and Mrs. Dobson settled down in front of the television set in the living room.
Peggy copied over the words she’d had wrong in the spelling test in school. She read a chapter of her social studies book. Just as she was about to start her math, the bedroom door opened. Brian came in.
“I finished all my homework,” he said. “And I went to have a talk with Puss. But he won’t have anything to do with me. He’s watching television with Mom and Dad.”
Peggy closed her math book. She had all the rest of the weekend to finish her homework. “Come on, Brian.”
Mr. and Mrs. Dobson had been watching a program about exploring the bottom of the sea. The cat was sitting on the carpet staring at the television set. The end of his striped tail twitched whenever a fish swam across the screen.
Peggy and Brian came into the room just before the program ended. When it was over, Mr. Dobson turned off the set and picked up his newspaper. He made himself comfortable in his big easy chair and started to read.
Mrs. Dobson went to the kitchen to unload the dishwasher.
Brian and Peggy saw the cat get up and walk to the television set. He reached up a paw to push the switch that turned on the set.
An instant later, a young man playing a set of drums flashed onto the screen. The room was filled with the crash of loud music.
The cat ran under the sofa.
Mr. Dobson put down his newspaper. He got out of his chair and turned off the television. “Who turned that on?”
“Puss did,” Brian blurted out.
His father looked at him. “I suppose you think that’s funny, Brian. You know you’re supposed to ask permission if you want to watch a program.”
Peggy didn’t like to see Brian blamed for something he hadn’t done. “But, Daddy,” she said, “the cat did turn on the set.”
“That settles it,” Mr. Dobson said. “It’s off to bed for you two.”
“I’m not sure I want to keep that cat after all,” Brian told Peggy next morning after breakfast. “Do you think Dad really would let us have a kitten?”
“Don’t believe it. He just wants you to get rid of me.”
It didn’t sound like Peggy’s voice, but Brian couldn’t see anyone else in the room. He looked at his sister. “Daddy wouldn’t think of getting rid of you, Peg. I think he likes you more than he does me.”
Peggy laughed. “I didn’t say anything.” She pointed to the floor.
The cat was right at her feet.
Brian stooped down. “You know you got us into trouble last night, Puss.”
“I was just trying to get another look at those fish,” the cat said. “How was I to know that awful noise would come out of the magic box. It was nice and quiet when the fish were swimming around in it. I’m sorry you were punished for what I did. But if I told your father the truth, he’d have thought he was going crazy. Grown-ups are like that.”
“I’ve noticed,” Brian agreed. “Sometimes I think you can’t tell them anything.”
Mrs. Dobson came into the room. The cat ran over to her and rubbed against her legs. She bent over and stroked his head. He purred loudly.
“Put on warm clothes, children. You have to take Puss back to his owner. I’ll give him something to eat while you’re getting ready.” Mrs. Dobson walked into the kitchen. The cat followed her.
Peggy and Brian went to get their jackets and hats and mittens.
When Mrs. Dobson came out of the kitchen, she was holding the cat in her arms. She handed him to Peggy. “Now remember, if you don’t find the lady Puss belongs to, bring him back. Don’t leave him in the park.”
Mr. Dobson came downstairs. “That’s right,” he said. “It wouldn’t be fair to the birds.”
Brian and Peggy left the house by the front door. They started to walk to the park.
“You don’t have to carry me,” the cat said. “I can walk quite well by myself.”
Peggy held onto the cat. “Mother told me to give you to the lady with the shopping bag.”
“Have it your way.” The cat rested his front paws on Peggy’s shoulder and enjoyed the ride.
They crossed the wide street and went in through the gate of the park. The sky was gray, and it was beginning to drizzle. There didn’t seem to be anyone else in the park.
“I hate rain,” the cat said. “It’s a pity you didn’t bring an umbrella.”
Brian ran ahead down the stone walk. Peggy came after him, carrying the heavy cat. When they came close to the twisted old beech tree, they saw that the woman with the shopping bag was sitting on the bench where she had been yesterday.
She had spread a blue tablecloth on the walk. A bird was walking about on the cloth pecking at something. The woman was watching the bird. She didn’t see the children.
Brian stopped walking. Peggy caught up to him. “Peg,” he whispered. “Isn’t that the mockingbird?”
Peggy stood quite still and looked at the woman. Her shopping bag was on the walk beside her. The woman had no umbrella. Her brown coat and floppy hat were getting wet. And her cheeks were pink with the cold. But she didn’t seem to notice. She was too busy watching the bird eat.
The bird caught sight of Brian and Peggy and the cat. He flew up into the branches of the beech tree.
The woman looked up. As soon as she saw the children, she folded up the blue tablecloth and stuffed it into her shopping bag. She picked up the bag and jumped to her feet. Then she began to walk deeper into the park.
“Come back,” Brian called. “Don’t you want your cat?”
At this the woman started to run.
Peggy looked after her. “She seems to be afraid of something.”
The rain was coming down harder now. “We’d better go home, Peg,” Brian said.
Peggy’s arms were tired. “Hold Puss for a minute.”
Both children rushed after him. When they came close to the tree they couldn’t see the cat anywhere.
Peggy leaned on the tree. “We’d better find him,” she said. “Mother told us not to leave him in the park.”
Brian walked all around the tree. He couldn’t find the cat. He looked up into the branches. The mockingbird was perched on one of them. He cocked his head and leaned over to get a better look at the children. Then he chirped something.
“I think you’re trying to tell us something,” Brian said.
The bird chirped again.
“I wish we could understand you,” Peggy said.
The mockingbird hopped along the branch until he was right over Peggy’s head. He opened his beak. But instead of chirping, he said, “Why don’t you look inside the tree? That cat hates to get wet.”
Peggy moved away from the trunk of the tree. She craned her neck to see the bird better.
The mockingbird shook the raindrops from his wings and flew away in the direction that the woman with the shopping bag had gone.
Peggy didn’t know whether to believe her ears. But Brian said, “What did he mean by ‘Look inside the tree’?”
Peggy began to look at the lumps on the trunk. One of them, near the base of the tree, had a little hole in it. Peggy bent down to look at it. “It must be a hollow tree. But this hole is too small for the cat. And it’s the only hole I can see.”
Brian got down on his hands and knees. He took off his mitten and poked his finger into the hole. “Peg,” he said, “the bark is stretching!”
Brian wiggled his finger in the hole. It became big enough for his arm to go in. A moment later all of Brian went into the hole. The tree closed up behind him.