miniature version of the mousy Mrs. Hodgkins, her narrow-set eyes beside the long, skinny nose. Elizabeth let Oliver into the warm house, which smelled of baking.
“He went to Salem to buy some nails and fancy lumber for a coffin ordered up by Mr. Sergeant. He said it was the best job he ever got. He took Johnny with him. I don’t think it’s fair to take him and not me. Do you think it’s fair?”
All Oliver could think about was that Tammy would throw something at him if he returned without the carpenter. “When’s he coming back?”
“Mamma says tomorrow if we’re lucky. Mamma says he’s liable to find himself a tavern and forget all about us for a week. That’s why Johnny went, to try to keep him on the straight path. But if he strays, to get him home as quick as he can.
“Mamma says Pa isn’t so bad, that’s just his nature and most of them are far worse, and I’m to give thanks to my Heavenly Father for having such a good provider in my father here on earth.” Elizabeth barely took a breath. This was just the kind of talk that Tammy would love to hear, Oliver thought. Maybe he could postpone her anger with this scrap of gossip.
Then he saw the biscuits, piled like a heap of miniature gold bricks on a pearly white plate, set on the edge of the table to cool.
“Isn’t your ma here?” he asked.
“She’s over to Mrs. Pulcifer’s house to borrow some syrup. She said I could stay here on my own ’cause I’m getting to be a big girl, and she says I can keep myself out of trouble long enough for her to have a cup of tea with Mrs. Pulcifer in peace.”
Oliver took off his hat and started making his way across the room. Elizabeth set her thin lips in a line and didn’t take her eyes off him.
“Think I can take a biscuit?”
“No.”
“Your ma always gives me something.”
Elizabeth thought about this for a moment. “My mamma says you are a half-starved wild ’un and that Tammy Younger is a skim-flint and a sinner to treat you the way she does. She says it’s a shame and a scandal, too, because you have the air.”
Oliver nodded but he was only half listening. He made it to the table and quick-as-he-could snatched a biscuit and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth.
Elizabeth frowned, but kept on talking. “Mrs. Pulcifer said it wouldn’t be so much longer before they put her in the ground and then you’ll get what’s yours.
“I think Aunt Tam is terrible mean to you, whatever she says. Aren’t you ’feared she’s going to carve you up while you’re sleeping in your bed and eat you for breakfast?”
“What are you going on about?” Oliver said.
Elizabeth grew uneasy. “I never know what Mrs. Pulcifer means,” she whined. “Mamma says Mrs. Pulcifer likes to hear herself talk, but Mamma likes to hear her talk, too. They talk all the time, my ma and her. Pa says that Mrs. Pulcifer…”
“I gotta go,” said Oliver.
“I’m telling Mamma about the biscuit,” she called after him.
Oliver stood in the middle of the road and tried to decide what to do next. He did not want to go back and face Tammy without some kind of cure for her pain. Maybe the time had come for him to go down to the harbor and sign up for a berth on the next ship out. On his way, he could go past Mrs. Pulcifer’s house, though he’d never had any luck cadging food from that tightfisted lady. As he stood and considered his poor choices, he noticed the big yellow cat lying in the morning sun, stretched out on the neatly swept pathway between the house and the carpenter’s shed.
Hodgkins’s spread was not even half a mile from Tammy’s place, and yet it seemed like a different world. There were no cats where Oliver lived. Cats belonged to a world with barns and garden plots laid out in rows, where lilac bushes got trimmed back beside stone walls that weren’t tumbling into piles. Suddenly, the carpenter’s garden seemed the prettiest place on earth. Nothing like his house or the rest of Dogtown,
“He went to Salem to buy some nails and fancy lumber for a coffin ordered up by Mr. Sergeant. He said it was the best job he ever got. He took Johnny with him. I don’t think it’s fair to take him and not me. Do you think it’s fair?”
All Oliver could think about was that Tammy would throw something at him if he returned without the carpenter. “When’s he coming back?”
“Mamma says tomorrow if we’re lucky. Mamma says he’s liable to find himself a tavern and forget all about us for a week. That’s why Johnny went, to try to keep him on the straight path. But if he strays, to get him home as quick as he can.
“Mamma says Pa isn’t so bad, that’s just his nature and most of them are far worse, and I’m to give thanks to my Heavenly Father for having such a good provider in my father here on earth.” Elizabeth barely took a breath. This was just the kind of talk that Tammy would love to hear, Oliver thought. Maybe he could postpone her anger with this scrap of gossip.
Then he saw the biscuits, piled like a heap of miniature gold bricks on a pearly white plate, set on the edge of the table to cool.
“Isn’t your ma here?” he asked.
“She’s over to Mrs. Pulcifer’s house to borrow some syrup. She said I could stay here on my own ’cause I’m getting to be a big girl, and she says I can keep myself out of trouble long enough for her to have a cup of tea with Mrs. Pulcifer in peace.”
Oliver took off his hat and started making his way across the room. Elizabeth set her thin lips in a line and didn’t take her eyes off him.
“Think I can take a biscuit?”
“No.”
“Your ma always gives me something.”
Elizabeth thought about this for a moment. “My mamma says you are a half-starved wild ’un and that Tammy Younger is a skim-flint and a sinner to treat you the way she does. She says it’s a shame and a scandal, too, because you have the air.”
Oliver nodded but he was only half listening. He made it to the table and quick-as-he-could snatched a biscuit and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth.
Elizabeth frowned, but kept on talking. “Mrs. Pulcifer said it wouldn’t be so much longer before they put her in the ground and then you’ll get what’s yours.
“I think Aunt Tam is terrible mean to you, whatever she says. Aren’t you ’feared she’s going to carve you up while you’re sleeping in your bed and eat you for breakfast?”
“What are you going on about?” Oliver said.
Elizabeth grew uneasy. “I never know what Mrs. Pulcifer means,” she whined. “Mamma says Mrs. Pulcifer likes to hear herself talk, but Mamma likes to hear her talk, too. They talk all the time, my ma and her. Pa says that Mrs. Pulcifer…”
“I gotta go,” said Oliver.
“I’m telling Mamma about the biscuit,” she called after him.
Oliver stood in the middle of the road and tried to decide what to do next. He did not want to go back and face Tammy without some kind of cure for her pain. Maybe the time had come for him to go down to the harbor and sign up for a berth on the next ship out. On his way, he could go past Mrs. Pulcifer’s house, though he’d never had any luck cadging food from that tightfisted lady. As he stood and considered his poor choices, he noticed the big yellow cat lying in the morning sun, stretched out on the neatly swept pathway between the house and the carpenter’s shed.
Hodgkins’s spread was not even half a mile from Tammy’s place, and yet it seemed like a different world. There were no cats where Oliver lived. Cats belonged to a world with barns and garden plots laid out in rows, where lilac bushes got trimmed back beside stone walls that weren’t tumbling into piles. Suddenly, the carpenter’s garden seemed the prettiest place on earth. Nothing like his house or the rest of Dogtown,
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