The Curious Adventures of Jimmy McGee by Eleanor Estes Page B
Authors: Eleanor Estes
Tags: Ages 8 and up
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"Remember the hurricane, Jimmy McGee. Lobelia! Coming soon, you know." Amy and her family must be ready for a speedy departure if his predictions were right. Predictions? He hadn't kept track of anything. He pulled himself up short. "Oh, but they can count on me, Jimmy McGee!"
But he seemed to not really care. He wanted to spend all his time watching Little Lydia. It was as though he were under a spell. And was she ever worth watching! With every passing hour her zigzags flashed more brightly. Her blue eyes, always so very blue, now cast off magical beams, and when she fastened them on him, they sent off tiny sparks.
He realized that she had discovered where he had hidden his precious magic bolt box. But instead of hiding it in a still more secret place, he let her alight on it, just to see what would happen next. He wasn't going to open it. Oh no! He still had that much sense. He'd open it when the right time came. But he rather liked the very faint rumble of thunder in there and what he imagined the little streaks of lightning were like.
Whenever he lifted Little Lydia off this magic bolt box, he realized that she had received a powerful charge! One time he saw her walking, not on her own two legs that were not geared for walking anyway, but on what looked like shimmering stilts. They were like miniature streaks of lightning and were bright gold. Very pretty. Sometimes she jumped up and down and hopped about as though she were on crooked pogo sticks.
She should be in a circus, thought Jimmy McGee admiringly.
Sometimes she seemed to be suspended halfway between the dry grassy floor of his headquarters and the ceiling with its straggly, lacy roots. Her tousled yellow hair would get tangled in the grass roots until they, too, became charged and lighted up the place like a smart cafe.
Then when that curious exhibition was over, she made her descent to Jimmy McGee's bolt box and fastened her eloquent blue eyes on him. This made him uneasy.
No wonder his work suffered. Then it occurred to him that he might have a rival! Little Lydia was beginning to do the things that he did! She looked at his nuts and bolts, saw one in the wrong place, polished it a little on her calico dress so it shone, and put it in the right place. She looked at his pipes and fastened her eyes especially on the scrolls. She might tamper with these treasures, especially the one with the
Who's Who Book
where his name was and hers.
Perhaps she would take off and zoomie-zoomie through the wires the way he did, but on her own, not in his bombazine bag or his stovepipe hat! She might begin to think
she
was boss of the bolts, that no longer was she, Little Lydia, a do-nothing doll, but was now a doll girl plumber. Perhaps she would bang the pipes and make the houses shudder wherever happenstance might make her. Wake the people up in the middle of the night even! Hide under the bedclothes...
And o-o-ops! Worst thing of all! She might somehow figure out how to unlatch his magic bolt box and set those valuable specimens free!
He must watch her very closely. She might zoomie-zoomie away and never come back, doing shenanigans all on her own!
He
was the
hero. He
was the one who had rescued her from Monstrous! Was that gratitude on her part?
But none of these thoughts irritated Jimmy McGee for very long. He was under an ever-deepening spell watching and listening to Little Lydia!
Once she bebopped, "
Now I jump over the candlestick
/" and the whole place lighted up. Of course there wasn't any
candlestick!
Jimmy McGee had to laugh, and he clapped his hands. She must have learned that line from listening to Amy reading Mother Goose to Clarissa.
Now and then, from habit, he scanned his storm book ledger. He was reminded then that Hurricane Lobelia was soon coming, or not coming. He had not bothered to check her course, not bothered to figure whether it was coming, today, tomorrow, next week, and where? Or ever?
He didn't care. Let hurricanes come. Let
But he seemed to not really care. He wanted to spend all his time watching Little Lydia. It was as though he were under a spell. And was she ever worth watching! With every passing hour her zigzags flashed more brightly. Her blue eyes, always so very blue, now cast off magical beams, and when she fastened them on him, they sent off tiny sparks.
He realized that she had discovered where he had hidden his precious magic bolt box. But instead of hiding it in a still more secret place, he let her alight on it, just to see what would happen next. He wasn't going to open it. Oh no! He still had that much sense. He'd open it when the right time came. But he rather liked the very faint rumble of thunder in there and what he imagined the little streaks of lightning were like.
Whenever he lifted Little Lydia off this magic bolt box, he realized that she had received a powerful charge! One time he saw her walking, not on her own two legs that were not geared for walking anyway, but on what looked like shimmering stilts. They were like miniature streaks of lightning and were bright gold. Very pretty. Sometimes she jumped up and down and hopped about as though she were on crooked pogo sticks.
She should be in a circus, thought Jimmy McGee admiringly.
Sometimes she seemed to be suspended halfway between the dry grassy floor of his headquarters and the ceiling with its straggly, lacy roots. Her tousled yellow hair would get tangled in the grass roots until they, too, became charged and lighted up the place like a smart cafe.
Then when that curious exhibition was over, she made her descent to Jimmy McGee's bolt box and fastened her eloquent blue eyes on him. This made him uneasy.
No wonder his work suffered. Then it occurred to him that he might have a rival! Little Lydia was beginning to do the things that he did! She looked at his nuts and bolts, saw one in the wrong place, polished it a little on her calico dress so it shone, and put it in the right place. She looked at his pipes and fastened her eyes especially on the scrolls. She might tamper with these treasures, especially the one with the
Who's Who Book
where his name was and hers.
Perhaps she would take off and zoomie-zoomie through the wires the way he did, but on her own, not in his bombazine bag or his stovepipe hat! She might begin to think
she
was boss of the bolts, that no longer was she, Little Lydia, a do-nothing doll, but was now a doll girl plumber. Perhaps she would bang the pipes and make the houses shudder wherever happenstance might make her. Wake the people up in the middle of the night even! Hide under the bedclothes...
And o-o-ops! Worst thing of all! She might somehow figure out how to unlatch his magic bolt box and set those valuable specimens free!
He must watch her very closely. She might zoomie-zoomie away and never come back, doing shenanigans all on her own!
He
was the
hero. He
was the one who had rescued her from Monstrous! Was that gratitude on her part?
But none of these thoughts irritated Jimmy McGee for very long. He was under an ever-deepening spell watching and listening to Little Lydia!
Once she bebopped, "
Now I jump over the candlestick
/" and the whole place lighted up. Of course there wasn't any
candlestick!
Jimmy McGee had to laugh, and he clapped his hands. She must have learned that line from listening to Amy reading Mother Goose to Clarissa.
Now and then, from habit, he scanned his storm book ledger. He was reminded then that Hurricane Lobelia was soon coming, or not coming. He had not bothered to check her course, not bothered to figure whether it was coming, today, tomorrow, next week, and where? Or ever?
He didn't care. Let hurricanes come. Let
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