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Show Twisters . . . 23 "I only have two days to finish my needlepoint cushion," she told us, "but it'll bring a fancy price when it's done." We started edging off the porch. "Come see me again," she said, and we told her we would. "Know what she did with her old screen door?" Arthur asked as we got back on our bikes. "What?" "She gave it to me." "She did? That old thing? What for?" "It'8 a work of art, man!" I_ ought to worry about him, I remember thinking. At the Darlington's everything was as usual-chaotic! They weren't rich like the Brady Bunch, but they sure could have used a good maid like Alice. We stepped over Gwen and Theo, who had paper dolls spread all over the living room floor. "Don't walk on Prince Ragnor," Gwen squealed, covering the royal wardrobe with her fat little body. Tabby was practicing the piano, her fingers flying up and down the keyboard doing scales. Ronnie Vae was folded up in a big chair in the corner, having a giggly phone conversation with some other ten-year-old. I looked around for Stacey, trying not to be obvious about it, but she was nowhere in sight. She pretty much lived with her friend Evelyn the way Arthur lived with me. And Mr. Darlington was only home on Sundays, so I didn't bother looking for him. He works at a nursery days, is the maintenance foreman at the National Guard Armory at night. |
