we didn’t come here to sell them. We just came by accident.”
“Well,” Mr. Deener said, “I don’t believe in accidents. Not that kind anyway. I assumed you were the Kraken brothers, come to help. I’ve been expecting them.” He looked confused for a moment. “I… I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought… for a moment I thought…” But he didn’t finish his thinking. He stood there looking sad now, remembering something, or maybe
trying
to remember.
“You’ll just have to go on expecting them, Artemis,” Aunt Flo said to him, “because this isn’t them.”
“Then allow me to say that it
looks
very much like them.” He started walking up the road, as if his interest in John and Danny had ended.
Aunt Flo leaned over and whispered to them that Mr. Deener had been waiting for the Kraken brothers for a long time. No one was sure that
were
any Kraken brothers, not really. They were probably Mr. Deener’s imaginary friends.
“I’m
one of his imaginary friends,” she said, “and so is my niece Polly.” Then she touched the side of her head with her finger and winked. “He’s lost some of his marbles,” she said. “He’s forgotten… too much.”
They all followed along after Mr. Deener, who soon forgot that he was sad. He started humming and singing to himself, and then laughing at the song when he came to what must have been the good parts. Twice he stopped, and said, “Hark!” and pointed the soap weapon at the woods. But there was no sign of any goblins, and in a few minutes they arrived at a cobblestone carriage drive at the top of the hill.
“Which of the brothers are you again?” Mr. Deener asked Danny, very abruptly, as if to catch him off guard.
“I’m Danny,” Danny started to say, but he was interrupted by Aunt Flo, who said,
“These are
not
the brothers, Artemis.”
“Are they due tonight, then?”
“No,” said Aunt Flo, “they are not.” Then she stopped for a moment to think about something, and said finally. “Maybe these are the brothers after all.” She turned to Danny and John and said, “Do you mind being Mr. Deener’s imaginary friends?’
(Chapter 12 continues after illustration)
“No,” John said. “I guess not. How imaginary do we have to be?”
Mr. Deener looked instantly happy. “Now that you’ve come, you don’t have to be imaginary at all,” he said. Then he looked puzzled again, and asked, “Why have you come? That’s what I’m wondering. I can’t quite recall it.”
“We don’t know either,” Danny said. “We just came.”
“But the wife…” Mr. Deener started to say, and then stopped, as if the mention of “the wife” had wrecked his thought. He smashed his eyes shut, pushing his cheeks up toward his forehead, so that all the feelings that were in his eyes and on his face got squashed out of it. When he opened his eyes he looked entirely pleasant again.
“I believe that this is them,” he said. “I’m a stinker if I don’t.” Then he looked at them all and said, “Which of you calls me a stinker?”
“None of us calls you a stinker,” Aunt Flo said, as they set out toward the house again. Flowers bloomed in flowerbeds, and the limbs of oak trees cast a tangle of moon shadows onto the cobblestones. Through the trees John could see a broad valley below them, sweeping down toward the meadow. The valley was cut by a dry river. Moonlight shone on the white stones of the riverbed far below them and on the wooden timbers of an old, broken-down dock. The ribs of a rowboat sat like a skeleton beneath the dock, as if it had been ages since there had been enough water to float it.
Although it was a long way away, John could see that someone dressed in white, in a nightshirt maybe, sat at the end of the dock, just like the man from the cover of the book in the curiosity shop –
The Wise Fishermen’s Encyclopedia
. Bats darted through the air above him, and the moon cast the shadow of his fishing pole across the dry,
“Well,” Mr. Deener said, “I don’t believe in accidents. Not that kind anyway. I assumed you were the Kraken brothers, come to help. I’ve been expecting them.” He looked confused for a moment. “I… I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought… for a moment I thought…” But he didn’t finish his thinking. He stood there looking sad now, remembering something, or maybe
trying
to remember.
“You’ll just have to go on expecting them, Artemis,” Aunt Flo said to him, “because this isn’t them.”
“Then allow me to say that it
looks
very much like them.” He started walking up the road, as if his interest in John and Danny had ended.
Aunt Flo leaned over and whispered to them that Mr. Deener had been waiting for the Kraken brothers for a long time. No one was sure that
were
any Kraken brothers, not really. They were probably Mr. Deener’s imaginary friends.
“I’m
one of his imaginary friends,” she said, “and so is my niece Polly.” Then she touched the side of her head with her finger and winked. “He’s lost some of his marbles,” she said. “He’s forgotten… too much.”
They all followed along after Mr. Deener, who soon forgot that he was sad. He started humming and singing to himself, and then laughing at the song when he came to what must have been the good parts. Twice he stopped, and said, “Hark!” and pointed the soap weapon at the woods. But there was no sign of any goblins, and in a few minutes they arrived at a cobblestone carriage drive at the top of the hill.
“Which of the brothers are you again?” Mr. Deener asked Danny, very abruptly, as if to catch him off guard.
“I’m Danny,” Danny started to say, but he was interrupted by Aunt Flo, who said,
“These are
not
the brothers, Artemis.”
“Are they due tonight, then?”
“No,” said Aunt Flo, “they are not.” Then she stopped for a moment to think about something, and said finally. “Maybe these are the brothers after all.” She turned to Danny and John and said, “Do you mind being Mr. Deener’s imaginary friends?’
(Chapter 12 continues after illustration)
“No,” John said. “I guess not. How imaginary do we have to be?”
Mr. Deener looked instantly happy. “Now that you’ve come, you don’t have to be imaginary at all,” he said. Then he looked puzzled again, and asked, “Why have you come? That’s what I’m wondering. I can’t quite recall it.”
“We don’t know either,” Danny said. “We just came.”
“But the wife…” Mr. Deener started to say, and then stopped, as if the mention of “the wife” had wrecked his thought. He smashed his eyes shut, pushing his cheeks up toward his forehead, so that all the feelings that were in his eyes and on his face got squashed out of it. When he opened his eyes he looked entirely pleasant again.
“I believe that this is them,” he said. “I’m a stinker if I don’t.” Then he looked at them all and said, “Which of you calls me a stinker?”
“None of us calls you a stinker,” Aunt Flo said, as they set out toward the house again. Flowers bloomed in flowerbeds, and the limbs of oak trees cast a tangle of moon shadows onto the cobblestones. Through the trees John could see a broad valley below them, sweeping down toward the meadow. The valley was cut by a dry river. Moonlight shone on the white stones of the riverbed far below them and on the wooden timbers of an old, broken-down dock. The ribs of a rowboat sat like a skeleton beneath the dock, as if it had been ages since there had been enough water to float it.
Although it was a long way away, John could see that someone dressed in white, in a nightshirt maybe, sat at the end of the dock, just like the man from the cover of the book in the curiosity shop –
The Wise Fishermen’s Encyclopedia
. Bats darted through the air above him, and the moon cast the shadow of his fishing pole across the dry,
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