“Bunny?”
“Not anymore.”
“Hmmm. Well, anyway, he quit and there isn’t even any piano player. And Jessie Mae has changed all her plans. I saw her there because Norman had a wreck.”
Beth Ellen continued to look at the television.
“You’re infuriating. I don’t care. I’m going to tell you anyway. Some man made Norman go get his car, and guess what?”
“What?” said Beth Ellen in as bored a voice as she could manage.
“Norman can’t drive!”
“So?”
“So he got in the car and started it and drove round and round a tree and round and round the yard, and everybody was screaming and jumping out of the way, and he went round the hotel three times before he ran into that big hedge!”
Beth Ellen was looking at Harriet now.
“And Jessie Mae was there and she started yelling at Norman soon as the car stopped, and that old smelly Norman got out and, boy, did he look red. And the guy who owned the car was mad as a snake and said he was gonna sue Norman and Norman ran. Then Moo-Moo bit him.”
“Bit him?” Beth Ellen laughed.
“Yeah, and made Norman stop running. And Jessie Mae was yelling her head off and she told Norman he was dumb and nasty because he didn’t care about anything but money and she wasn’t gonna have anything to do with him anymore and that he could forget all about the church because she was throwing over the whole idea and going to go to school and learn something else because she wasn’t gonna make toe medicine either because it was dumb.” Harriet stopped for breath. “Then Agatha Plumber comes waltzing in and said, ‘DAR-LING, don’t worry about a thing!’ to the man whose car was smashed and took him off to her house for lunch. Then Norman ran like blazes and Jessie Mae ran after him still yelling at him.” Harriet finished with a flourish and sat like a puppy waiting for a reward.
“Hmmmm,” said Beth Ellen.
“Oh, boy!” said Harriet. She flopped back in her chair, stuffed her mouth with popcorn, and watched the movie. “I’m never gonna tell you anything anymore,” she said, popcorn flying out of her mouth as she spoke.
“I wonder if we’ll ever see them again?” said Beth Ellen.
“Who?”
“Jessie Mae and Norman.”
“Well, we could find out where they’re gonna live in New York. What do you care, anyway? You don’t care. I’m never gonna tell you another thing.”
Beth Ellen smiled to herself. Imagine Harriet with her mouth shut permanently, she thought.
“You never tell me anything,” said Harriet.
“What do you mean?” asked Beth Ellen, thinking: True, I don’t.
“I know, I know,” Harriet grumbled. “You think I don’t know something, but I do.”
“What?”
“Never mind. I’m not saying until…”
“Until what?”
“Until…” said Harriet, getting up, her eyes still glued on the television, “until I can PROVE it.” She suddenly shouted the last and ran out of the room. Beth Ellen stood up, dumbfounded, and when she heard great crashing noises coming from her bedroom, she ran after.
Harriet was going through everything again and looking under the bed, in the bathroom, everywhere.
“What are you doing?” asked Beth Ellen in horror.
“Never mind, never mind,” said Harriet and ran out of the room. She ran down the hall. She ran into the small sitting room and started looking there.
Beth Ellen ran after her. “What are you doing?” she yelled, but nothing had any effect upon Harriet, who searched everywhere like a mad thing. She ran out into the hall and toward Mrs. Hansen’s room.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” said Beth Ellen and caught her just as her hand was about to touch the doorknob. “My grandmother’s in there,” she whispered.
“Oh,” said Harriet loudly and careened down the hall to Zeeney’s room.
“Hey,” said Beth Ellen and ran after.
Harriet did the same thing all over again—every drawer, every closet. “What are you looking for?” yelled Beth Ellen, but Harriet was off again and running. She ran into the room that had belonged to Beth Ellen’s grandfather. Beth Ellen ran after her down the hall and heard Harriet shout “AHA!”
She ran into the room. Harriet was standing in front of the open Bible, one arm raised in triumph. “AHA!” she screamed again. “I’ve got you! I knew it was you! I just knew it!”
“What?” said Beth Ellen, her face paling.
“The Bible. You’ve got this Bible. You’re the one. You’re the note leaver!”
“Oh, rats, Harriet, that’s silly. Everybody has a Bible. And anyway, wouldn’t it be marked, where all those notes came from? Wouldn’t it be marked?”
Harriet looked taken aback. “Maybe,” she said slowly and looked at Beth Ellen. She hated for Beth Ellen to think of something she hadn’t thought of. She looked at Beth Ellen with narrowed eyes.
Beth Ellen turned red. Harriet’s eyes got even smaller and never left Beth Ellen’s face.
Beth Ellen’s eyes betrayed her. They roamed the room for one quick look. It only took a split second, but it was enough for Harriet, who followed the look and saw what Beth Ellen had seen. She ran across the room and dove under the bed.
She came up with Beth Ellen’s secret book in her hand. “AHA!” she said and shook away a dust mouse hanging from her ear.
Beth Ellen began to shake.
“AHA, HA, HA!” said Harriet fiendishly. She turned the book over and looked at the title: “Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations?” She looked at Beth Ellen in dismay. “What is that? I thought this was a Bible.”
Beth Ellen took a deep breath. “It belonged to my grandfather,” she gasped.
“What’d he do, keep his books under the bed?” Harriet snapped. She opened the book. A red crayon which had been holding the place fell out.
“AHA!” she screamed again. Beth Ellen jumped for the book. Harriet snatched it away and began to look with wild delight at the quotations encircled with red. “Oh, I SEE!” she yelled. “HERE’s where you got them! Yep, uh-huh … uh-huh.” She lowered the book and looked at Beth Ellen.
Beth Ellen felt the color drain from her face.
“You sure kept THAT secret a long time,” said Harriet. “Why didn’t you TELL me? I mean, you could have told me. Here I go around all summer looking like a fool when you knew all along. WELL!”
Somehow Harriet’s grumbling, so much a part of her, so much a part of everyday life, restored Beth Ellen. She began to breathe again. So what? she thought. I’m never gonna do it again anyway. So what if she knows? … She shrugged.
“Well, REALLY, Beth Ellen,” said Harriet.
“You sound like Agatha Plumber,” said Beth Ellen and laughed.
“I do NOT,” said Harriet, furious. She started out of the room, still holding the book. “I’m seizing this as evidence,” she said over her shoulder as she stomped into Beth Ellen’s room. Beth Ellen followed. “And anyway, I think you should be prevented from doing this anymore!” Harriet looked at her.
I don’t have to anymore, thought Beth Ellen.
“What ever gave you the idea to do it anyway?” asked Harriet with not a little admiration in her voice.
Beth Ellen smiled and said nothing.
“Well, you could have told me,” said Harriet. “I knew it at The Preacher’s. I watched your face and I knew. But you could have told me.” And flinging the book on the bed, she stomped into the bathroom.
Beth Ellen sat on the bed and looked fondly at the book. I’m a child, she thought happily, and I live somewhere. Nobody can ever take me away.
Beth Ellen laughed, a loud, happy laugh.
“WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING ABOUT?” yelled Harriet from behind the closed door. “Wait’ll you read the story I’m gonna write about you and those notes!”
Beth Ellen laughed again. It didn’t matter.
Published by Yearling, an imprint of Random House Children’s
Books a division of Random House, Inc., New York
Text copyright © 1965 by Lois Anne Morehead
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eISBN: 978-0-307-42191-3
v3.0
Table of Contents
Cover
Other Books By This Author
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Copyright
The Long Secret Page 17