The Wonder of Charlie Anne by Kimberly Newton Fusco Page B

sure.
    “What’s the matter with it?” Old Mr. Jolly is saying when we are standing up on his porch, just about to knock.
    “It’s a little, well, plain. Wouldn’t you say?”
    “It’s suited me fine all these years, Rosalyn.”
    “Well, I think just a little paint would brighten it up. Maybe some yellow.”
    “I don’t have money for paint, Rosalyn.”
    “You know I have a little.”
    Old Mr. Jolly lets out a long sigh, which we can hear clear as cowbells. “I’m a proud man, Rosalyn. I don’t want to be using your money.”
    “Pride isn’t going to get me new paint, now, is it?”
    We hear grumbling and Old Mr. Jolly’s low voice: “Do what you want, Rosalyn.” Then the porch door flies open and nearly hits us. He frowns when he sees us, and he hurries straight to the barn. I wonder if he has a think-about-it chair out there, right beside Phoebe’s beautiful new swing.
    “Yoo-hoo,” says Mirabel. “Yoo-hoo.”
    This brings Rosalyn and Phoebe right out. “Charlie Anne, I was just wondering about all those cuts of yours,” Rosalyn says. “How are you?”
    “She’s fine, just fine,” says Mirabel, looking at Rosalyn’s trousers, which are yellow as sunflowers, and then at Phoebe’s, which are lavender. Phoebe smiles, but Mirabel ignores her and turns to Rosalyn.
    “Charlie Anne told me we had a new neighbor and I wanted to have a proper introduction,” she says. “I’m Mirabel, the cousin of this child’s mother, rest her soul.” She holds the pie out to Rosalyn.
    “Why, it’s beautiful, such a stunning pie!” Rosalyn takes it and puts it on the table and we all go over and look at it for a minute, even Phoebe. I am wondering if Mirabel will tell Rosalyn that I am the one who made the pie, but she does not.
    I wonder if Phoebe will let me ride on the swing when we are done looking at the pie. I give myself a little extra sniff to be sure I still smell okay. I think maybePhoebe notices. I tell my face it better not turn all red. Then I move closer to Mirabel.
    “Yes,” she is saying, looking at the pie. “I came right after the funeral. It was just about a year ago now. I took one look at the condition of those children, and that was that. I’ve been here ever since. My cousin Sylvie was just the sweetest thing, but she left the children not knowing much about the way the world works. Especially this one here.”
    Rosalyn has already raised an eyebrow. I am backing away from Mirabel. Rosalyn looks at me and smiles. “She looks quite fine to me.”
    “Yes, it’s manners and acting like a proper young lady and all those things that country children who don’t go to school have so much trouble with. And chores. They all have a great deal of trouble getting anything done.”
    Rosalyn is raising her other eyebrow. “Did you say no school?”
    “Yes, ever since that teacher left for California, we’ve been without. And she wasn’t here for a year, and there were years between this one and the last. We’ve had trouble finding teachers who are willing to come this far out.”
    “Is that so?” Rosalyn is looking over at Phoebe and smiling just the tiniest bit.
    Mirabel nods toward Phoebe and looks back atRosalyn. “Nice you brought a maid and all.” Mirabel is looking at Phoebe’s trousers. “None of us can afford help up here. Times are too tough. We do what we can, though.”
    Phoebe looks at Rosalyn, and then I see Phoebe stiffen up like she has an old ironing board down the back of her shirt. A big long shadow passes over Rosalyn’s face.
    Rosalyn must have brought a whole shipload of books, because there are stacks of them everywhere. Old Mr. Jolly should get busy right away building bookshelves, just as soon as he does something about that brier patch. I am counting all the books while I wait for Rosalyn’s shadow to pass.
    Mirabel is looking around for a place to sit, but Rosalyn does not tell her to please sit and take a weight off your feet the way folks usually do