Ray Bradbury - Greentown 03 by Farewell Summer

Author:Farewell Summer
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-12-12T02:17:18+00:00

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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The next day, at noon, Douglas walked Home from school to have lunch. When he got there, his mother sent him straight next door to his grandparents’ house. Grandpa was waiting, sitting in his favorite chair in a pool of light from his favorite lamp, in the library, where all was stillness and all the books on the shelves were standing alert and ready to be read.

Hearing the front door open, Grandpa, without looking up from his book, said, “Douglas?” “Yeah.”

“Come in, boy, and sit down.”

It wasn’t often that Grandpa offered you a chance to sit down, which meant there was very serious business ahead.

Douglas entered quietly and sat on the sofa across from Grandpa and waited.

Finally Grandpa put aside his book, which was also a sign of the serious nature of things, and took off his gold-rimmed specs, which was even more serious, and looked at Douglas with what could only be called a piercing stare.

“Now, Doug,” he said, “I’ve been reading one of my favorite authors, Mr. Conan Doyle, and one of my favorite characters in all the books by Conan Doyle is Mr. Sherlock Holmes. He has honed my spirit and sharpened my aspects. So on a day like today, I woke up feeling very much like that detective on Baker Street in London a long time ago.” “Yes, sir,” said Douglas, quietly.

“I’ve been putting together bits and pieces of information and it seems to me that right now the town is afflicted by lots of boys who are suddenly staying home from school, sick, they say, or something or other. Number one is this: I heard tell from Grandma this morning a full report from your house next door.

It seems that your brother Tom is doing poorly.”

“I wouldn’t say that exactly,” said Doug.

“Well, if you won’t, I will,” said Grandpa. “He feels poorly enough to stay home from school. It’s not often Tom feels poorly. He’s usually so full of pep and energy, I rarely see him when he isn’t running. You have any idea about his affl iction, Doug?” “No, sir,” said Doug.

“I would hate to contradict you, boy, but I think you do know. But wait for me to add up all the other clues. I got a list here of the boys in your group, the ones I regularly see running under the apple trees, or climbing in them, or kicking the can down the street. They’re usually the ones with firecrackers in one hand and a lit match in the other.” At this Douglas shut his eyes and swallowed hard.

“I made it my business,” said Grandpa, “to call the homes of all those boys and, strange to say, they’re all in bed. That seems most peculiar, Doug. Can you give me any reason why? Those boys are usually like squirrels on the sidewalk, you can’t see ’em they move so fast. But they’re all feeling sick, sleeping late. How about you, Doug?” “I’m fi ne.”

“Really?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You don’t look so fine to me.

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