Harriet the Spy

by Louise Fitzhugh

  “Yes. They learn languages and guerrilla fighting and everything about a country so if they’re captured they’ll know all the old football scores and things like that.”

  “That’s boy spies, Harriet. You’re not thinking.”

  Harriet hated more than anything else to be told by Ole Golly that she wasn’t thinking. It was worse than any soap. “What do you mean?” she asked quietly.

  “What about girl spies? What are they taught?”

  “The same things.”

  “The same things and a few more. Remember that movie we saw about Mata Hari one night on television?”

  “Yes…”

  “Well, think about that. Where did she operate? Not in the woods guerrilla fighting, right? She went to parties, right? And remember that scene with the general or whatever he was—she was dancing, right? Now how are you going to be a spy if you don’t know how to dance?”

  There must be some answer to this, thought Harriet as she sat there silently. She couldn’t think of a thing. She went “Hmmmph” rather loudly. Then she thought of something. “Well, do I have to wear those silly dresses? Couldn’t I wear my spy clothes? They’re better to learn to dance in anyway. In school we wear our gym suits to learn to dance.”

  “Of course not. Can you see Mata Hari in a gym suit? First of all, if you wear your spy clothes everyone knows you’re a spy, so what have you gained? No, you have to look like everyone else, then you’ll get by and no one will suspect you.”

  “That’s true,” said Harriet miserably. She couldn’t see Mata Hari in a gym suit either.

  “Now”—Ole Golly stood up—“you better march downstairs and tell them you changed your mind.”

  “What’ll I say?” Harriet felt embarrassed.

  “Just say you’ve changed your mind.”

  Harriet stood up resolutely and marched down the steps to the dining room. Her parents were having coffee. She stood in the doorway and said in a loud voice, “I’ve changed my mind!” They looked at her in a startled way. She turned and left the doorway abruptly. There was nothing further to be said. As she went back up the steps she heard them burst out laughing and then her father say, “Boy, that Miss Golly is magic, sheer magic. I wonder where we’d be without her?”

  Harriet didn’t know how to approach Janie about her defection, but she decided she must. At lunch, Sport and Janie sat laughing over the new edition of The Gregory News which had just come out. The Gregory News was the school paper. There was a page reserved for every grade in the Middle School and every grade in the Upper School. The Lower School were such idiots they didn’t need a page.

  “Look at that. It’s ridiculous.” Janie was talking about Marion Hawthorne’s editorial about candy wrappers everywhere.

  “She just did that because Miss Whitehead talked about them on opening day,” Harriet sneered.

  “Well, what else? She hasn’t got the sense to think of anything original.” Sport bit into a hard-boiled egg. Sport made his own lunch and it was usually hardboiled eggs.

  “But it’s so dumb and boring,” Harriet said. “Listen to this: ‘We must not drop our candy wrappers on the ground. They must be put into the wastebaskets provided for this purpose.’ It’s not even news; we hear it practically every day.”

  “I’ll put her in a wastebasket,” said Janie with satisfaction.

  “My father says you have to catch the reader’s attention right at first and then hold it,” said Sport.

  “Well, she just lost it,” said Harriet.

  “You oughta write it, Harriet, you’re a writer,” said Sport.

  “I wouldn’t do it now if they paid me. They can have their dumb paper.” Harriet finished her sandwich with a frown.

  “They should be blown up,” said Janie.

  They ate in silence for a moment.

  “Janie…” Harriet hesitated so long that they both looked up at her. “I think they’ve got me,” she said sadly.

  “What? Was that sandwich poisoned?” Janie stood up. The egg fell right out of Sport’s mouth.

  “No,” Harriet said quickly. Now it was anticlimactic. “I mean dancing school,” Harriet said grimly.

  Janie sat down and looked away as though Harriet had been impolite.

  “Dancing school?” Sport squeaked, picking the egg out of his lap.

  “Yes,” said Janie grimly.

  “Oh, boy, am I glad. My father never even heard of that.” Sport grinned around his egg.

  “Well,” said Harriet sadly, “it looks like I’m gonna have to if I’m gonna be a spy.”

  “Who ever heard of a dancing spy?” Janie was so furious she wouldn’t even look at Harriet.

  “Mati Hari,” Harriet said quietly; then when Janie didn’t turn around she added very loudly, “I can’t help it, Janie.”

  Janie turned and looked at her. “I know,” she said sadly, “I’m going too.”

  It was all right then, and Harriet ate her other tomato sandwich happily.

  After school, when Harriet went home for her cake and milk, she remembered that it was Thursday and that Thursday was Ole Golly’s night out. As she was running down the steps to the kitchen she was struck by a thought so interesting that it made her stop still on the steps. If Ole Golly had a boy friend and she went out on her night out—wouldn’t she meet the boy friend? And… if she were to meet the boy friend—couldn’t Harriet follow her and see what he looked like? Extraordinary thought. She decided that she would have to be extra careful and terribly crafty to find out when, where, and with whom Ole Golly was spending her free evening. If Ole Golly went to places like the Welsches did, like night clubs, Harriet wouldn’t be able to follow. Out of the question. She would have to wait until she was Mata Hari for that.

  But IF, for instance, this boy friend were to come to the house and pick up Ole Golly, THEN Harriet could at least see what he looked like. She decided to pursue this as she clattered down the rest of the way into the kitchen. Ole Golly was having her tea. The cook put out the cake and milk as Harriet slipped into place at the table.

  “Well,” said Ole Golly in a friendly manner.

  “Well?” said Harriet. She was looking at Ole Golly in a new way. What was it like for Ole Golly to have a boy friend? Did she like him the way Harriet liked Sport?

  “Well, iffen it don’t rain, it’ll be a long dry spell,” Ole Golly said softly, then smiled into her tea.

  Harriet looked at her curiously. That was one thing about Ole Golly, thought Harriet, she never, never said dull things like, ‘How was school today?’ or ‘How did you do in arithmetic?’ or ‘Going out to play?’ All of these were unanswerable questions, and she supposed that Ole Golly was the only grown-up that knew that.

  “Where are you going tonight?” Harriet said abruptly. She couldn’t think of any way to find out subtly without Ole Golly catching on. Sometimes the direct approach was best.

  “Well,” said Ole Golly, “that’s actually none of your business, but I’ll tell you this. I’m going out this afternoon at five o’clock, and by the time I get back, you’ll be sound asleep.”

  I wouldn’t count on that, thought Harriet. “Are my family going out too?” she asked.

  “Yes, they are. You’re stuck with me,” said the cook in a grumpy way.

  Harriet hated that. The cook never wanted to do anything in the evening except read the Journal, then fall asleep. Harriet hated the quietness of the house, the wholesale emptiness that seemed to envelop her as soon as the last door had shut, the last voice had called out gaily, “Go to sleep on time. Be a good girl.” She didn’t mind at all when they went out, if Ole Golly were there, because they always spent the evening playing checkers and watching television.

  “How’s the weather out?” asked Ole Golly unexpectedly.

  “Right pretty,” said the cook.

  Hmmmm, thought Harriet. Maybe she’s going to meet him someplace outside. Harriet got up from the table.

  “Well,” said Ole Golly, “guess I won�
�t see you till tomorrow.”

  “Why?” asked Harriet.

  “Well, you’re going out now, aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  “No?” asked Ole Golly, considerable surprise showing in her voice.

  “No,” said Harriet, a tiny sense of triumph creeping into her voice. “I’m just going up to my room.”

  “Oh, well, I’ll see you before I go then. I’m leaving about five,” said Ole Golly and poured herself another cup of tea. Harriet left the room. Five o’clock. Perhaps she should station herself somewhere at five to get a good view of the front door. It was all very interesting. When she got to her room she wrote in her notebook:

  WHERE DO PEOPLE GO AT FIVE O’CLOCK? SHE HAS ALREADY HAD TEA. SO SHE WON’T GO OUT TO TEA. A MOVIE? OLE GOLLY DOESN’T LIKE THEM VERY MUCH. SAYS THEY POISON YOUR MIND. THE CIRCUS IS IN TOWN. IF I WERE MEETING SOMEBODY I WOULD MAKE THEM TAKE ME TO THE CIRCUS. I LOVE THE FREAKS. IF I GO ACROSS THE STREET AND HIDE BEHIND A TREE IN THE PARK I CAN SEE THE FRONT DOOR JUST RIGHT.

  At four forty-five she sneaked past Ole Golly’s room. She could hear Ole Golly getting dressed and whistling to herself as she did. She must be in a good mood to whistle, thought Harriet.

  She found an appropriate tree and waited. She waited and waited, looking at her watch every two minutes. A policeman strolled by and stared at her. She tried to look casual, as though she just happened to lean against that tree all the time so what was he looking at. Lots of taxis passed. She watched a woman park her car. A delivery man on one of those bikes with a cart in front parked in front of her house. She looked to see if it were Little Joe Curry, but it was a much older man with a little black mustache. He went up to her front door. Suddenly it hit her. Could this be the boy friend? She watched as he rang their bell. He must be. Mrs. Welsch always ordered from the Dei Santis and this man’s jacket had another store printed on it. The door opened and Ole Golly came out. It was. This was the boy friend. Harriet gave him the real once-over as he and Ole Golly stood on the top step smiling and chatting to each other.

  He was rather fat but in a round, hard, not unpleasant way. His head was completely round. His teeth were very white under the trim mustache. His skin was darkish, and the features of his face formed a pleasant, round, cheerful image. He wore, naturally, a delivery boy’s coat, but underneath he wore nice-looking gray flannel pants, and his brown shoes were shined within an inch of their lives.

  He took Ole Golly’s arm and they walked down the steps together, still smiling and talking and never taking their eyes off each other.

  When they got down to the bottom of the steps the boy friend seemed to apologize for something, smiling awkwardly, then quick as a flash he took off his delivery jacket, reached into his cart, pulled out a gray flannel jacket, and put that on. He wore a bright blue tie and altogether Harriet thought he looked quite nice. He and Ole Golly smiled at each other, then started walking toward the park, leaving the delivery cart where it was in front of the house.

  Harriet squatted down to hide herself more, and through a bush, watched their progress into the park. They were evidently going for a walk beside the river. They chose a path near Harriet, so she waited until they were a little ahead of her, then ran along beside them. She discovered that if they stayed on this path she could run along, completely hidden by the thick foliage, and, miraculously, hear every word they said.

  “Mr. Waldenstein, have you ever noticed”—Ole Golly sounded terribly proper and enunciated everything quite clearly—“have you ever noticed how tidy the grass is in this park?”

  “Yes, Miss Golly. This park is kept quite well. A lot better than that terrible Washington Square with all those creatures lying all over the grass. Make a pretty mess they do.” Mr. Waldenstein had a pleasant speaking voice, although there was a certain amount of rasp and gravel running along the bottom of it.

  “Yes. I always find it such a pleasure to walk along the river this way. I particularly like to watch the tugboats.” Ole Golly didn’t sound one bit like herself. Her voice seemed much higher, as though she were floating a bit off the ground.

  “A walk in the park is always a pleasure for me when I am accompanied by an attractive young woman like yourself, Miss Golly.” Mr. Waldenstein leaned a little toward Ole Golly as he said this.

  Harriet watched in horror as Ole Golly blushed a deep red that started from deep inside her scarf and rushed like a spreading river to her hairline. Well, thought Harriet, how about that!

  “Oh, Mr. Waldenstein,” Ole Golly managed to breathe, then tried to change the subject by saying, “Will you look over there at that boat? That is a large one for the East River.”

  “No offense was meant, Miss Golly.” Mr. Waldenstein looked worried. “I only want you to know how much I enjoy these Thursdays we have been spending together.”

  The crimson zoomed up Ole Golly’s face again, making her look exactly like a hawk-nosed Indian.

  Big Chief Golly, Harriet thought, what is happening to you?

  And something was definitely happening. Ole Golly was not Ole Golly today. Instead of being strong, tough, and totally in control, she looked as though she might faint. Harriet pondered on this as she watched them turn onto the esplanade which runs along the river. There was no way to follow them now without being observed, so she decided to run back in the grass and see where they came out. She could keep them in view even if she couldn’t hear them. Before going she scribbled in her notebook:

  LIFE IS A GREAT MYSTERY. IS EVERYBODY A DIFFERENT PERSON WHEN THEY ARE WITH SOMEBODY ELSE? OLE GOLLY HAS NEVER BEEN THIS WAY. I WONDER IF PEOPLE ACT LIKE THIS WHEN THEY GET MARRIED. HOW COULD SHE GET MARRIED? WOULD MR. WALDENSTEIN COME TO LIVE WITH US THEN? THEY COULD PUT THEIR CHILD IN MY ROOM IF THEY WANTED TO. I WOULDN’T MIND. I DON’T THINK. UNLESS IT WAS A VERY NOISY CHILD WHO TRIED TO READ MY NOTEBOOKS. THEN I WOULD SMASH IT.

  Mr. Waldenstein and Ole Golly were so far away they were beginning to look small, so Harriet closed her notebook and ran up and down the hills and across the paths until she had them quite close again. They were turning off the walk by the river onto one of the smaller paths, the one beside the mayor’s house. Harriet crept along beside them. Now she could hear them again.

  “Would it be your pleasure to attend a movie this evening, Miss Golly?”

  “Yes, indeed, I think that would be a fine idea,” said Ole Golly.

  Harriet’s mouth dropped open. Ole Golly never went to the movies, and here she was smiling and looking like it was a treat. Well! Harriet grabbed for her notebook.

  IF SHE FEELS THAT WAY SHE CAN JOLLY WELL TAKE ME TO THE MOVIES SOMETIME.

  “Is there something interesting playing?” Ole Golly’s voice was getting higher and higher, funnier and funnier.

  “I think that there is a very nice picture playing over on Eighty-sixth Street, one that you will like. But if you do not like that one when we get there, then there are three other movie houses there and you can take your pick. I had thought that we could have a nice dinner at the Bauhaus there beforehand if you would like that. If not, there are lots of other restaurants.” Mr. Waldenstein said everything in a very gentle way, looking constantly at Ole Golly to see if she liked what he was saying.

  “Oh, I think that would be just lovely. It sounds like a very pleasant evening.”

  WELL, THAT TEARS IT. I HAPPEN TO KNOW THAT OLE GOLLY JUST CAN’T STAND GERMAN FOOD. SHE SAID TO ME ONCE THAT IF SHE SAW ONE MORE WURST ON HER PLATE SHE WOULD THROW IT ACROSS THE ROOM. THAT WAS WHEN WE HAD THAT GERMAN COOK BEFORE WE GOT THIS ONE. WHEN OLE GOLLY GETS HOME TONIGHT I BET SHE WILL LAUGH WITH ME AND SAY WHAT A TERRIBLE EVENING SHE HAD WITH THIS SILLY LITTLE FAT MAN.

  They had reached East End Avenue again, so Harriet couldn’t hear them anymore. She stood behind the tree and watched them walk toward the house. Then a really funny thing happened. Mr. Waldenstein got on his bicycle. Harriet thought for a minute that he was going off for a while to deliver things, but then her hair stood on end as she watched O
le Golly, with great agility and even more aplomb, hop onto the delivery cart. She sat, very straight and very dignified, while Mr. Waldenstein, puffing a bit, got the bike going down the hill. Harriet watched open-mouthed as they disappeared around the corner into Eighty-sixth Street. She was so astonished that she sat right down on the ground and wrote:

  WELL, I NEVER. I’VE SEEN EVERYTHING. I BET OLE GOLLY IS EMBARRASSED TO DEATH. SHE IS REALLY GOING TO LAUGH WHEN SHE GETS HOME TONIGHT.

  Harriet went back to the house. She did a little bit of homework, read awhile, then started to play Town by herself. She sat with her father and mother for a while when they got in, then went upstairs and sat with her mother while she got dressed to go out to dinner. Everything bored Harriet. She felt tired and dull in the head as she sat watching her mother. She decided to ask her mother questions to entertain herself.

  “How did you meet Daddy?”

  “On the boat going to Europe,” answered Mrs. Welsch, struggling with her hair.

  “I KNOW that.”

  “Well, why did you ask then?”

  “I mean how did you meet him. How was it?”

  “What do you mean? You mean how exactly? I was coming out of the dining room and I bumped into him. It was a very stormy crossing and he threw up.”

  “You mean he threw up all over you?”

  “Not exactly all over me, just splashed my feet a bit.” Mrs. Welsch laughed. “It wasn’t terribly pleasant. He turned beet-red, apologized profusely, then passed out. He looked perfectly horrified the next time he saw me.”

  “Do people always turn red when they meet who they’re going to marry?”

  “Well, no, dear, I doubt it. You see he’d thrown up, that’s why.”

  “I know… but I mean…”

  “Well, what?”

  “I don’t know,” said Harriet glumly. She couldn’t figure out what to ask. “I mean… what does it feel like?”

  “To have someone throw up on your feet? Not nice I can tell you.” Mrs. Welsch didn’t seem to be listening very hard.