us.”
“Back and forth. Not just one ride?”
“For as long as you like.”
“You swear to God?”
“I swear to God.” Veronica crossed her heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.” She stood up and held out her hand to him. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you over to the store.”
“I don’t want to go to the store.”
“But you just said if I take you riding on the double-decker bus tomorrow, you’ll stay in the store today.”
“No, I didn’t,” cried Stanley, and he began to hiccup. “I just said I want to ride the bus tomorrow, and you swore to God that you’d take me.”
Veronica reached out a curling hand for him, and he scurried away from the steps back to the hydrant.
“You—hic—promised,” he cried indignantly.
“You see how he is,” Veronica said helplessly to Peter. And she sat down again on the library steps. “You just can’t even talk to him.”
“Let me try,” Peter whispered.
He skated over toward Stanley, and Stanley retreated around the far side of the hydrant.
“Don’t be afraid, Stanley,” Peter said kindly. “I just want to talk to you.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Stanley,” Peter said persuasively, feeling in his pocket, “how would you like a Coke?”
Stanley kept moving around the hydrant, his eyes filled with hatred.
“If you go to the store,” Peter said, “I’ll give you a nickel and you can buy a Coke.”
“I won’t!” Stanley shouted.
“A dime?” Peter suggested. So they wouldn’t ride home on the train.
“No!”
“Let’s see,” Peter said, still not discouraged. He dug down in his pocket and began emptying its contents.
“Look, Stanley,” he said, “I’ve got these beautiful stamps from France—three of them. Look! This one’s green and this one’s blue and here—look at this beautiful orange one. And you can have all three.”
“No!”
“Hey, look what I’ve got,” Peter said enthusiastically, drawing out a small square mirror. He held it in the sunlight and let the reflection flash against the library building, the stairs, over Veronica’s skates, up the hydrant, and finally right in Stanley’s face.
Stanley blinked, licked his lips, looked hungrily at the mirror, and whispered, “No!”
Peter dug down to the very bottom of his pocket, pulled out his house key, and fished out a couple of pencils that lay underneath.
“See, Stanley, this one’s a red pencil, and this one says, KATZ’S LUMBERYARD on it, and the eraser’s not even used. You can have them both, and ...”
“What’s that?” Stanley said, pointing.
“What’s what?” Peter followed Stanley’s pointed finger. “Oh, that’s just my key.” The key was attached to a chain that also held a blue rabbit’s foot. Peter said, his eyes narrowing, “You want to hold the rabbit’s foot? Here, hold it. It brings you good luck.”
He held out the chain, and Stanley took it and rubbed the rabbit’s foot and said, “It’s soft.”
“Tell you what,” said Peter, the end plainly in sight. “I’ll give you the rabbit’s foot if you stay in the store.”
Stanley hicced and continued stroking.
“And you can have the mirror too.”
Veronica stood up. “And tomorrow I’ll take you riding on the buses.”
“Here, give me the chain, and I’ll take off the rabbit’s foot for you.”
Stanley jiggled the rabbit’s foot on the chain. “I like the chain too,” he said.
“O.K., O.K., you can have the chain too. Just let me take my key off.”
“I like the key too,” Stanley said.
“But it’s the key to my house. You don’t need the key to my house.”
“I like the key,” Stanley said stubbornly.
Peter sighed. What a crazy kid! But all right, let him keep the key then. He could always have another key made for himself.
Veronica was watching him and he said, “All right, keep the whole thing. Now let’s go!”
“Where?” said Stanley.
“To the store,” Veronica
“Back and forth. Not just one ride?”
“For as long as you like.”
“You swear to God?”
“I swear to God.” Veronica crossed her heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.” She stood up and held out her hand to him. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you over to the store.”
“I don’t want to go to the store.”
“But you just said if I take you riding on the double-decker bus tomorrow, you’ll stay in the store today.”
“No, I didn’t,” cried Stanley, and he began to hiccup. “I just said I want to ride the bus tomorrow, and you swore to God that you’d take me.”
Veronica reached out a curling hand for him, and he scurried away from the steps back to the hydrant.
“You—hic—promised,” he cried indignantly.
“You see how he is,” Veronica said helplessly to Peter. And she sat down again on the library steps. “You just can’t even talk to him.”
“Let me try,” Peter whispered.
He skated over toward Stanley, and Stanley retreated around the far side of the hydrant.
“Don’t be afraid, Stanley,” Peter said kindly. “I just want to talk to you.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Stanley,” Peter said persuasively, feeling in his pocket, “how would you like a Coke?”
Stanley kept moving around the hydrant, his eyes filled with hatred.
“If you go to the store,” Peter said, “I’ll give you a nickel and you can buy a Coke.”
“I won’t!” Stanley shouted.
“A dime?” Peter suggested. So they wouldn’t ride home on the train.
“No!”
“Let’s see,” Peter said, still not discouraged. He dug down in his pocket and began emptying its contents.
“Look, Stanley,” he said, “I’ve got these beautiful stamps from France—three of them. Look! This one’s green and this one’s blue and here—look at this beautiful orange one. And you can have all three.”
“No!”
“Hey, look what I’ve got,” Peter said enthusiastically, drawing out a small square mirror. He held it in the sunlight and let the reflection flash against the library building, the stairs, over Veronica’s skates, up the hydrant, and finally right in Stanley’s face.
Stanley blinked, licked his lips, looked hungrily at the mirror, and whispered, “No!”
Peter dug down to the very bottom of his pocket, pulled out his house key, and fished out a couple of pencils that lay underneath.
“See, Stanley, this one’s a red pencil, and this one says, KATZ’S LUMBERYARD on it, and the eraser’s not even used. You can have them both, and ...”
“What’s that?” Stanley said, pointing.
“What’s what?” Peter followed Stanley’s pointed finger. “Oh, that’s just my key.” The key was attached to a chain that also held a blue rabbit’s foot. Peter said, his eyes narrowing, “You want to hold the rabbit’s foot? Here, hold it. It brings you good luck.”
He held out the chain, and Stanley took it and rubbed the rabbit’s foot and said, “It’s soft.”
“Tell you what,” said Peter, the end plainly in sight. “I’ll give you the rabbit’s foot if you stay in the store.”
Stanley hicced and continued stroking.
“And you can have the mirror too.”
Veronica stood up. “And tomorrow I’ll take you riding on the buses.”
“Here, give me the chain, and I’ll take off the rabbit’s foot for you.”
Stanley jiggled the rabbit’s foot on the chain. “I like the chain too,” he said.
“O.K., O.K., you can have the chain too. Just let me take my key off.”
“I like the key too,” Stanley said.
“But it’s the key to my house. You don’t need the key to my house.”
“I like the key,” Stanley said stubbornly.
Peter sighed. What a crazy kid! But all right, let him keep the key then. He could always have another key made for himself.
Veronica was watching him and he said, “All right, keep the whole thing. Now let’s go!”
“Where?” said Stanley.
“To the store,” Veronica
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