Peppermints in the Parlor by Barbara Brooks Wallace

Author:Barbara Brooks Wallace
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin

NINE

An Unexpected Invitation

Emily pushed open the kitchen door and peered stealthily across the dining room. Tock! Tock! Tock! Only the face of the grandfather clock, tolling its mournful tale, was there to look down on her. Still, she hesitated. She had long since begun to wish that Kipper had gone on scratching his ears until he had concluded that she could not take, that he would not allow her to take, the fish syrup around to all the old people. Having an exciting idea when talking with Kipper in the comparative safety of the laundry room was one thing, but carrying it out all on her own in the shadows of Sugar Hill Hall was another. She could not, however, stand there waiting forever.

Her heart lodged somewhere near her throat, she ran on tiptoes across the dining room. Then she peeked cautiously into the parlor. Even with the syrup bottle well hidden under the rags in her bucket, she was relieved to find no one there but a few old people, staring across the room with unseeing eyes. She scurried past the peppermints and started up the stairs. She had gone no more than three steps, however, when she heard the sound of heavy boots stumping down to the landing. She looked up with a start, expecting to see Tilly.

Instead she saw a man wearing an extraordinarily untidy sea captain’s uniform coming directly toward her. His face had not had the attention of a razor in some days and was as ugly a face as Emily had ever seen. Through a mat of coarse stubble, a bulbous nose, decorated by a wart large and black as a fly, swelled out over thick, rubbery lips. A scarlet gash seared one cheek from chin to ear.

Emily stared at the sea captain with fixed eyes, and he stared back. She felt as if she was suddenly covered with a sheet of ice. Who was this ugly horror of a man? What was he doing at Sugar Hill Hall? What might he do to her right then? His eyes seemed to drill a hole right through the bucket to the bottle of fish syrup.

But whatever his business there, it had nothing to do with Emily. He simply brushed right past her with only a twitch of a squinted, bloodshot eye. The grandfather clock must have tocked away a whole minute before Emily was able to move again. Still trembling, she hurried on up the stairs. With eyes intently fastened on her feet lest she stumble and drop the bucket, she was all the way to the head of the stairs before she saw Mrs. Plumly standing in her doorway, watching.

“Oh!” Emily gasped.

“My dear child!” exclaimed Mrs. Plumly. It was the first time Emily had ever heard her voice, and it was sweet and musical, matching Mrs. Plumly perfectly. “I’m so sorry. Did I frighten you?”

“N-no,” stammered Emily. “I—I was only startled.”

“But you do look so pale, my dear. Did something else alarm you?” Mrs. Plumly looked alarmed herself.

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