could help him. If you hadnât let that wild young imagination of yoursââ
âBut it wasnât my imagination!â I cried. âHe did threaten me.â
There it was, again. Even if they had worked out a solution which satisfied them, they couldnât realize there was something more to it than merely wanting to buy land owned by my mother and mon oncle. They persisted in believing Iâd become excited because I had been sick and miserable and cooped up. My father laughed and picked me up in his arms, big as I was, and carried me into my bedroom and said I wasnât to worry. A couple of months or so in the country, and Iâd be well and strong and forget to be afraid of any stranger I happened to encounter.
âBosh,â said my father, and told me to rest now, to take a nap. He was going out to buy tickets. He wanted to give my mother and mon oncle a chance to see each other alone. I wasnât to disturb them.
Mon oncle Paul couldnât remain for dinner. After talking with my mother, he left to arrange for supplies to be sent on down to him in St. Chamant for that avion he was determined to build. At dinnertime, my mother and my father were busy with their own plans of what they would do in England.
That night I slept fairly well. I didnât have dreams about Monsieur Simonis but I did awake early in the morning. I thought about him and about Albert and tried to puzzle out what they actually wanted. It seemed to me this morning, more sure than ever before, that my parents and mon oncle Paul failed to understand there was more to the mystery than someone merely wanting to buy a parcel of land. But if I talked about it any more, theyâd consider I was merely attempting to wriggle out of my bargain to get the bicycle with the high gear and the low gear and the electric lighting dynamo. In the excitement of preparing to depart, I pushed away all thoughts about Monsieur Simonis and the mystery.â¦
After breakfast, my mother let me help her pack my duds. I was to leave that afternoon. Ordinarily, I suppose I wouldnât have wanted to go, considering what had happened. But I did want to get that bicycle. I was tired of never walking. Itâs true, my mother showed she was a little nervous too. She said I was to write regularly from St. Chamant and if the mayor caused me any difficultyâor if, for that matter, anyone caused Paul and me difficulty she wanted to know in a hurry.
While we were packing, my mother also told me a little more about her brother. She said first heâd been in the army and then heâd been with the French underground and had fought against the Germans all during the war. She explained he was dreadfully poor now, because all the money her father had left him had been stolen by the Germans. He had learned how to fly. While heâd been in the hospital he had thought of a new kind of avion. She wasnât very clear in her own mind what kind of avion it wasâyou know how women are, that way. But I could see she was concerned over her brother. He had a little money the French government had given him while he was a lieutenant, saved out of his pay. With that he planned to live in this little town of St. Chamant during the rest of the summer and fall and hoped to build his avion himself before he ran out of money.
My mother said he wouldnât take anything from my father. So, she said, my father planned to give me quite a lot of money for a boy of my age, almost three hundred dollars, changed into French money. She asked me to look out for mon oncle Paul without hurting his pride and to make sure he didnât spend all his money on his avion and that he ate enough food and took proper care of himself. The result was, I had a responsibility, too.
My father and mother were leaving late that night for London. We had lunch together, all four of us. Mon oncle Paul was still in his old worn clothes, but to look at him youâd
âBut it wasnât my imagination!â I cried. âHe did threaten me.â
There it was, again. Even if they had worked out a solution which satisfied them, they couldnât realize there was something more to it than merely wanting to buy land owned by my mother and mon oncle. They persisted in believing Iâd become excited because I had been sick and miserable and cooped up. My father laughed and picked me up in his arms, big as I was, and carried me into my bedroom and said I wasnât to worry. A couple of months or so in the country, and Iâd be well and strong and forget to be afraid of any stranger I happened to encounter.
âBosh,â said my father, and told me to rest now, to take a nap. He was going out to buy tickets. He wanted to give my mother and mon oncle a chance to see each other alone. I wasnât to disturb them.
Mon oncle Paul couldnât remain for dinner. After talking with my mother, he left to arrange for supplies to be sent on down to him in St. Chamant for that avion he was determined to build. At dinnertime, my mother and my father were busy with their own plans of what they would do in England.
That night I slept fairly well. I didnât have dreams about Monsieur Simonis but I did awake early in the morning. I thought about him and about Albert and tried to puzzle out what they actually wanted. It seemed to me this morning, more sure than ever before, that my parents and mon oncle Paul failed to understand there was more to the mystery than someone merely wanting to buy a parcel of land. But if I talked about it any more, theyâd consider I was merely attempting to wriggle out of my bargain to get the bicycle with the high gear and the low gear and the electric lighting dynamo. In the excitement of preparing to depart, I pushed away all thoughts about Monsieur Simonis and the mystery.â¦
After breakfast, my mother let me help her pack my duds. I was to leave that afternoon. Ordinarily, I suppose I wouldnât have wanted to go, considering what had happened. But I did want to get that bicycle. I was tired of never walking. Itâs true, my mother showed she was a little nervous too. She said I was to write regularly from St. Chamant and if the mayor caused me any difficultyâor if, for that matter, anyone caused Paul and me difficulty she wanted to know in a hurry.
While we were packing, my mother also told me a little more about her brother. She said first heâd been in the army and then heâd been with the French underground and had fought against the Germans all during the war. She explained he was dreadfully poor now, because all the money her father had left him had been stolen by the Germans. He had learned how to fly. While heâd been in the hospital he had thought of a new kind of avion. She wasnât very clear in her own mind what kind of avion it wasâyou know how women are, that way. But I could see she was concerned over her brother. He had a little money the French government had given him while he was a lieutenant, saved out of his pay. With that he planned to live in this little town of St. Chamant during the rest of the summer and fall and hoped to build his avion himself before he ran out of money.
My mother said he wouldnât take anything from my father. So, she said, my father planned to give me quite a lot of money for a boy of my age, almost three hundred dollars, changed into French money. She asked me to look out for mon oncle Paul without hurting his pride and to make sure he didnât spend all his money on his avion and that he ate enough food and took proper care of himself. The result was, I had a responsibility, too.
My father and mother were leaving late that night for London. We had lunch together, all four of us. Mon oncle Paul was still in his old worn clothes, but to look at him youâd
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