A Summer Tale of Four Sisters, Two Rabbits, and a Very Interesting Boy by Jeanne Birdsall

Author:Jeanne Birdsall [Birdsall, Jeanne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-54134-5
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2005-10-27T16:00:00+00:00

By the time Rosalind finished her letter to Anna, the brownies were done. She took them out of the oven and let them cool, cut them into squares, and neatly wrapped four of the squares in tinfoil. These were for Cagney Just the other morning, while watering the Fimbriata rosebush, he'd told Rosalind how much he liked brownies. He said they were just about his favorite food—brownies and the hot dogs you get at Fenway Park. Not that she'd made the brownies for Cagney, she told herself while sticking a cheerful yellow bow onto the tinfoil. As she had written to Anna, she would never sink so low as to try to get a boy's attention with food. Or with Civil War knowledge. Brownies also happened to be her father's favorite snack, and the Civil War truly was fascinating, though she'd never realized it before.

Batty hadn't come back inside since leaving with the carrots. Rosalind figured she'd either convinced Jane to take her to visit Yaz and Carla or she'd started playing and forgotten all about them. Rosalind considered looking for Batty before taking the brownies to Cagney's apartment, just in case she still wanted to go. But no, Rosalind decided, with only a tiny twinge of guilt. Cagney might be there, and it was more fun to see him without little sisters around.

Though she didn't know it, Rosalind took the same route Batty had earlier, even including the detour to the lily pond. Rosalind loved this pond. She found it peaceful but a little sad, too. For some reason it always made her think of Hamlet's girlfriend, Ophelia, and how she drowned herself when she went insane. Or maybe it was when Hamlet went insane. Rosalind wasn't sure which, and Anna said it was Rosalind who was insane to be reading Shakespeare. But Rosalind's mother had loved his plays and always quoted him. Like: I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my daughter, be merry. Her mother must have said it to her a thousand times. Lately, Rosalind had been thinking about her mother even more often than usual and wondering whether or not she would like Cagney Though how anyone could not like Cagney was beyond Rosalind's power of imagination. He's probably perfect, she thought, and, leaning over the edge of the pond, picked a lily and tucked it behind her ear.

She set off again for the carriage house, still not directly, for the sisters had learned the best routes for avoiding Mrs. Tifton. This one took her around the pond, up past the old springhouse, down through the lilac walk, and—

Her luck ran out. She was face to face with Mrs. Tifton and Dexter.

“This is too much, really too much,” said Mrs. Tifton. “Penderwicks everywhere, like a swarm of locusts. And who gave you permission to pick one of my lilies?”

Rosalind clapped her hand over the flower, mortified. “No one—I mean, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have.”

“That's right, you shouldn't have, like you shouldn't be here in my gardens. I'm getting very tired of running into your family.

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