Star Girl

by Henry Winterfeld

  “He’s coming,” Walter announced under his breath and ducked. “He’s looking for us!”

  The others held their breath without realizing it. Lottie clutched Gretel’s skirt for protection, Willy smiled feebly, and Konrad perspired more than ever, only this time from fright. Otto paled and nervously fidgeted with his glasses, while Erna bit her lips.

  “Are we going now to the Hollewood?” asked Mo.

  “No, not yet,” whispered Gretel. “The cop is coming.”

  “I don’t like that bad man in the uniform!” cried Mo in a troubled voice.

  “Be quiet!” hissed Erna.

  “He’s walking by,” reported Walter quietly jubilant. “He’s turning into Lake Street! Now he has disappeared!”

  “Holy Moses!” blurted Otto. “What a break!”

  “Yippee, we sure fooled him!” Willy cried triumphantly, rubbing his hands in glee.

  “Shall we make a quick getaway?” asked Gretel.

  “No,” ordered Walter. He stood up and pensively scratched the back of his head. “We’d better stick around until it gets dark. This is the safest place for us.”

  “But what shall we do here?” sulked Erna.

  Walter looked around at the small study where Miss Tim usually sat. The door was closed. Probably Miss Tim had not noticed that the children were there.

  “Let’s pretend we’re reading,” he said.

  “Oh, read—!” groaned Konrad peevishly.

  “No eats to be had here,” grinned Willy.

  The children walked up to a long, low table surrounded by small chairs. This was the children’s book corner. Directly behind it was a door that led into the garden. The table was piled high with books, picture books and children’s magazines. Quickly they all snatched something to read. Otto grabbed Emil and the Detectives, Willy The Pathfinder, and Walter Quo Vadis. Gretel wavered between My Friend Flicka and Heidi and finally chose Heidi. Lottie was delighted to find The Prince and the Pauper, her favorite book, and Erna chose a magazine with the latest doll fashions and began to study them carefully. Konrad fumbled among the books without being able to make up his mind until he accidentally came upon the fairy tale Never Never Land, which completely enthralled him because of the pictures of roast pigeons flying into people’s mouths. Mo had not taken a book. She was completely fascinated by the doings of the others.

  “Are we going to the Hollewood now?” she asked.

  “We have to wait until it gets dark,” said Walter.

  “When does it get dark on Earth?” she asked.

  “When the sun goes down,” replied Otto.

  “When does the Sun go down?” asked Mo.

  “When evening comes,” Willy told her.

  “It won’t be long now,” consoled Walter. “You, too, must pick up a book!”

  “What is a book?” asked Mo.

  “Books are to read,” said Otto.

  “We don’t have books,” said Mo.

  “But don’t you read?” Gretel asked in astonishment.

  “We have little machines into which we look and read,” explained Mo.

  “Oh, boy, do you crank them?” Willy wanted to know.

  “How pretty!” called Mo. A small globe rested on the table. “That is the way Asra looks when we visit our artificial moon.”

  “That is the earth,” informed Otto. “We live here!” He tapped his finger on a small spot on the globe.

  “Mo, perhaps you’d better stop telling people that you’re from Asra,” said Walter. “Otherwise we might never get to the Hollewood.”

  “Are all big people bad?” asked Mo.

  “The cop thinks you’re crazy and wants to lock you up,” said Erna.

  “What is crazy?” inquired Mo, looking worried.

  “Crazy is when you roll your eyes and run through the streets with no clothes on,” declared Otto.

  “Oh,” said Mo, frightened. “I do not do that!”

  The children laughed. Gretel pushed Heidi into Mo’s hand and said, “Try it.”

  Mo looked at a loss. “I can only speak your language; I cannot read it,” she admitted.

  “That’s all right,” said Walter. “When Miss Tim comes, she must think that you, too, are reading.”

  Obediently, Mo stared at the pages, and the others picked up their books again, but they were nervous and hungry and could not concentrate. Even Erna had lost interest in her doll dresses. She dropped the magazine and looked at Mo. “Why did you let the chickens escape?” she asked accusingly.

  “They looked so sad,” said Mo softly.

  “Chickens always look sad,” grumbled Konrad.

  “Chickens cost a lot,” said Walter with concern. “I hope they didn’t all run away.”

  “We have chicken every Sunday,” said Erna.

  “You’re lying,” chuckled Willy. “Last Sunday we had pot roast.”

  “You are lying!” said Erna indignantly.

  “We have roast goose every Sunday,” said Konrad devoutly.

  “We have Bratwurst,” Lottie admitted blushingly.

  “I like that too,” said Konrad benignly.

  Suddenly all the children jumped to their feet, and Mo rose with them. “Is it now that we go to the Hollewood?” she said happily. But the only reason they had risen was because Miss Tim had entered the room.

  Fourteen

  Kri Is a Pretty Name

  Miss Tim had white hair, but, despite it, she did not look at all old. She wore large horn-rimmed spectacles, behind which soft brown eyes looked amiably at the world. She came out of her study carrying a pile of books, which she put on a shelf. Only then did she discover the children.

  “Hello, children,” she said with a note of surprise.

  “How are you, Miss Tim!” chorused the children.

  “How nice that you have come to read!” said Miss Tim appreciatively. She took off her glasses and glanced out of the window. “Wouldn’t you rather be playing outdoors? It is such a lovely day, after all.”

  “We—we’ve been playing all day,” said Walter, choking with embarrassment.

  “Keep your seats, please,” said Miss Tim, and came closer. “It’s hard to read standing up, isn’t it?”

  The children sat down and took up their books. Mo dutifully glanced into hers.

  “I really should put you out,” Miss Tim said teasingly. “It’s almost six; I usually close the library at this time.”

  “Six?” stammered Walter. He was horrified that Miss Tim might turn them away from their safe hiding place. “Couldn’t we stay until it gets dark?” He hesitated.

  “Have you had your supper?” asked Miss Tim.

  “No,” groaned Konrad.

  “Are you so anxious to read that you are even willing to go without food?” laughed Miss Tim.

  “No,” said Konrad.

  “We are too!” Walter added quickly.

  “Why don’t you simply take the books home with you?” suggested Miss Tim.

  “We—we—we’re having general house-cleaning,” said Walter, blushing. That was a silly excuse, but he could not think of anything better at the moment. He did not dare to explain to Miss Tim why they were hiding in the library.

  Miss Tim laughed good-humoredly. “Very well,” she said. “If you’re so anxious to read, I’ll just have to close up later tonight. I still have to tidy up my study anyway. Besides, I should write a letter to Miss Kunkel. She still hasn’t returned A Lady of Fashion. Then you must go, children. I’ll have to go home to feed my cats and water my flowers. And if I don’t cover up my canary’s cage, he will not be able to sleep. You can understand that, can’t you?”

  “Yes,” chorused the children.

  Curious to see what he was reading, she stepped behind Walter and looked over his shoulder. “What are you reading?” she asked with interest.

  Walter stood up and gave her his book. “Quo Vadis, Miss Tim,” he said.

  “Now where did I leave my glasses!” Miss Tim asked.


  “You have them in your hands,” Walter said politely.

  “Oh yes, dear me,” said Miss Tim. “I’m getting more and more befuddled in my old days!” She laughed at herself and returned the book to Walter. “Do you like it?” she asked.

  “Yes, Miss Tim,” said Walter.

  “Well, I mustn’t keep you from your reading any longer,” said Miss Tim.

  Walter sat down again. Miss Tim was about to leave when, as bad luck would have it, she noticed Mo.

  “But you aren’t reading at all, my child,” she said with a smile.

  Frightened, Mo looked at Miss Tim with her big violet-blue eyes. “I read well,” she said uncertainly.

  “But you’re holding the book upside down!” exclaimed Miss Tim, chuckling.

  Hastily, Mo turned her book sideways, but that way she could not have read either.

  Miss Tim was really most astonished. “Don’t you know how to read?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes,” said Mo. “We have no books.”

  Miss Tim was perplexed and leaned against the edge of the table.

  “You don’t have books?” she said slowly. “Who has no books?”

  “We,” said Mo reluctantly.

  “Is that so?” said Miss Tim. “Just what do you read, if you have no books?” she asked, amused.

  “We have little machines; we look into them,” explained Mo softly.

  By now the children were nervously watching Miss Tim and Mo from behind their books. Miss Tim laughed. “But you probably love to read fairy tales, don’t you, child?” she asked.

  Mo grew more confident. She seemed to take a liking to Miss Tim. “We have many fairy tales,” she said, nodding with animation. “I like most the one about the child from Earth who comes to Asra and does not care for pills. It has lovely pictures. They are full of colors and glow, and everything looks alive, just as in reality,” she confided happily.

  “I don’t know that fairy tale,” said Miss Tim. “Did you invent it yourself?”

  “Oh, no,” protested Mo. “I would not know how to. It is known to all children on Asra.”

  “Asra is a fairy land, is it?” asked Miss Tim.

  Mo shrieked with laughter. “Asra, that is we!” she exclaimed, but then she noticed that Walter was giving her frantic looks, and she stopped.

  “My child, you’re all at sixes and sevens!” Miss Tim exclaimed. “You’re wearing your coat inside out!”

  “I fell, because something yelled,” said Mo.

  “And why do you have only one sleeve?” asked Miss Tim, shaking her head. Indeed, Mo did look a bit funny, with her right arm hanging bare out of the coat.

  “The fat Earth woman has my sleeve,” she said scornfully. Miss Tim looked at the children in astonishment.

  “What does this mean, children?” she asked.

  However, the children had their noses buried in their books. Only their unruly hair could be seen.

  “Why does the fat earth woman have your sleeve?” Miss Tim at last asked Mo.

  “Because I let the animals free,” Mo said cautiously.

  “Animals? What kind of animals?” asked Miss Tim.

  “They have two legs, no arms, and a pointed nose,” said Mo.

  “Tell me, aren’t you in school yet?” asked Miss Tim.

  “Oh, yes,” said Mo. “All children must go to school!”

  “But you don’t go to school here in Kummersville, do you?” inquired Miss Tim. “I’ve never seen you before.”

  “I have never seen you before either,” said Mo. “Your hair is all white.”

  “When one grows old, one’s hair turns gray,” said Miss Tim, smiling.

  “Are you already a thousand years old?” asked Mo.

  “No, I am not that old,” said Miss Tim. “Nor am I likely to get that old.”

  “That is bad!” said Mo with concern.

  “Incidentally, where are you from, my child?” asked Miss Tim.

  “I am not supposed to tell anybody any more,” murmured Mo with a furtive side glance.

  “Why not?” asked Miss Tim.

  “If I do, we’ll never get to the Hollewood,” breathed Mo faintly.

  For a moment Miss Tim was speechless. “What is your name, child?” she asked.

  “May I tell?” asked Mo, looking at Walter.

  “Her name is Mo,” rasped Walter from behind his book.

  “Mo is a pretty name,” said Miss Tim, and nodded at her with a friendly smile.

  “Isn’t it?” said Mo cheerfully. “My father wanted to call me Kri, but I don’t like Kri.”

  “Kri is also quite pretty,” said Miss Tim. “You come from a foreign land, don’t you? You have a curious accent.”

  “Normally I speak differently,” said Mo.

  “And where do your parents live?” asked Miss Tim.

  “In a house,” responded Mo.

  “In what country?” asked Miss Tim patiently.

  “I don’t know what a country is,” said Mo.

  “How long have you been going to school, Mo?” asked Miss Tim.

  “We children all go to school when we are fifty years old,” said Mo.

  “My, you are a crazy child,” laughed Miss Tim.

  “No,” cried Mo in horror and, quick as a wink, crept under the table.

  The children were frightened, but Miss Tim was even more so. “Heavens! What is the matter with the child?” she asked.

  “She … she is very timid,” stammered Walter.

  Miss Tim got on her knees, peered under the table, and called: “Mo, why did you creep under the table?”

  “Do not lock me up, please not!” cried Mo.

  “Who wants to lock you up?” said Miss Tim.

  “Please, I am not crazy!” cried Mo.

  “But I was only joking,” answered Miss Tim, quite confused. “You mustn’t take offense so quickly!”

  “Humans are bad. I want to go home,” sobbed Mo.

  Miss Tim now joined Mo under the table and tried to calm her. “But, child, I didn’t really mean it when I said you were crazy,” she said.

  “I am not crazy,” shrieked Mo. “I never roll my eyes.”

  “Now, come,” said Miss Tim, almost pleading. “Be sensible. I promise you, nobody will lock you up!”

  “The bad man in the uniform promised that too, but he broke his promise,” cried Mo. “He did not want to give the chain back to me.”

  The children stared, not knowing what to do. Finally, Gretel joined Mo and Miss Tim under the table and said: “Mo, Miss Tim is a good human.”

  Walter called: “Mo, I swear Miss Tim won’t harm you. You do trust me, don’t you, Mo?”

  “Do we now go to the Hollewood?” called Mo from below.

  “Later we will certainly go to the Hollewood,” answered Walter. “I’ll see to it that nobody will lock you up. And Miss Tim won’t lock you up either. Miss Tim is a schoolteacher.”

  “Oh,” said Mo, and crept from under the table.

  She looked at Miss Tim with respect. “At home nobody is ever locked up,” she said, wiping away her tears.

  Gretel reappeared, and Miss Tim got up groaning and dusted off her skirt. “You really gave me a scare, child!” she reproached Mo, and drew a sigh of relief.

  “Now tell me, children,” she said. “What is the matter with the little girl? Why is she so scared? How do you know her? And why is her talk so odd?”

  “She is … she has … she comes …” Walter began to stammer, but at that moment someone shook the front door with determination and then banged against it in a rage.

  “But why is the door locked?” said Miss Tim in consternation.

  “That must have happened by mistake,” Walter managed to mumble.

  The banging became more and more furious, and Miss Tim walked over and asked, “Who’s there?”

  “The police!” sounded Sergeant Klotz’s bass voice.

  “The police?” called Miss Tim in utter surprise. “Is that you, Klotz?”
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br />   “Yes!” came the roar of Klotz. “Chief sergeant Klotz!”

  “And what do you want?” asked Miss Tim.

  “Open up, please!” called the sergeant.

  “It’s almost closing time,” said Miss Tim loudly. “Why don’t you come for your books tomorrow, please!”

  “I don’t read books!” roared the officer. “Open up in the name of the law!”

  “Well, now I’m really curious,” said Miss Tim, and unlocked the door.

  “Where are the children?” called the sergeant, as he came bursting in.

  “What children?” asked Miss Tim.

  “Walter Brenner and his sisters. And a little girl with blonde hair and a red coat and a diamond chain around her neck!” shouted the policeman excitedly.

  “Goodness, gracious!” exclaimed Miss Tim. “What do you want with those children? There they sit, reading!” She turned around and gaped. The children were no longer there. The door to the garden stood wide open.

  Fifteen

  Everything Scratches, Everything Pricks

  As soon as the children heard the sergeant’s voice, they took off through the garden door. They ran up a narrow, winding lane and came out on Lake Street. Here, at the edge of the town, were the open fields. The children ran across a potato field toward the county road. But just before they got to it, they saw some trucks driving out from Kummersville. They quickly jumped into the road ditch and crouched low so as not to be seen.

  “Those are the farmers from the market,” said Otto, pointing. “They are going home now.”

  “Perhaps the farmer’s fat wife is among them,” said Gretel.

  “And the nasty codger with his apples,” added Erna.

  They waited in the ditch until they heard the last truck pass by. Then Walter crept up the bank and looked around. “Stay where you are! More are coming!” he called out, sliding back into the ditch.

  The others were quite content to have a moment’s rest. “The county road isn’t safe,” worried Walter. “We have to figure out another way to get to the Easter path.”

  “We could take the trail leading back of the Kummerhill,” suggested Otto.

  “Not on your life!” groaned Konrad. “Nothing but steep ups and downs that way!”