Arrow Pointing Nowhere by Elizabeth Daly Read Free Book Online Page B

unable to walk, but otherwise she’s greatly improved. Mrs. Grove takes care of her; an admirable arrangement.”
    â€œI should think it would be, if Mrs. Grove is an old friend.”
    â€œActually a school friend.”
    Gamadge was again studying the place where the view of Fenbrook had been. He said: “The plate and the tissue guard were both removed; but of course if the plate were torn out the tissue guard would go with it. We may forget the disappearance of the guard. Our question is, why was the plate torn out? Well, there are certain more or less familiar reasons for removing illustrations from books; we might consider them first. There is the nefarious process known as grangerizing, more politely known as enlarging.”
    â€œI don’t think I ever heard of it.”
    â€œSince late in the eighteenth century it’s been a hobby with certain persons who have plenty of leisure, like to handle books, and enjoy light manual labor. They feel they’re creating something, and of course a grangerized set is unique; at the expense of many other books, out of which the illustrations have been ripped incontinent.”
    â€œBut who could possibly want a view of old Fenbrook for any such purpose as that?”
    â€œI can’t imagine, unless somebody else was inspired to write up the Fenway family.”
    â€œI have my share of family conceit, I suppose,” said Fenway, smiling, “but even I don’t think there’s any such person. There are no Fenways left but myself, my daughter, and my cousin Mott. And my nephew. They are all out of the question.”
    â€œAnd we may assume that the Historical Society isn’t collecting for its archives—er—informally. Well, to proceed: people have been known to take pictures out of books in order to frame them and hang them on the wall, or to paste them on lamp shades and wastebaskets. I see on the lamp shade beside you, for instance, a rather charming woodcut portrait of—” Gamadge leaned forward—“of Theophrastus. If it wasn’t once in a book, I’ll eat it and the lamp shade too.”
    Fenway started, looked guilty, and glanced sidelong at the portrait of Theophrastus. He said: “Caroline got the lamp shade for me at a decorator’s. I assure you that nothing of the sort has been done with the view of Fenbrook.”
    â€œCan you be sure? I’m sorry to say that I once found, among my grandmother’s effects, a topographical view of old Albany behind a photograph—with whiskers—of my grandfather.”
    â€œIt’s inconceivable that anyone connected with this family should have done anything of the kind.”
    â€œUnlikely, I agree with you; and easy to disprove by a glance at the backs of the Fenbrook pictures. The superposing process wouldn’t be a professional job. Grandfather Gamadge was clamped into place with two carpet tacks and a piece of mending tape. Well, now I’m going to shock you again. Children are known to tear or deface the pages of books; spill things on them. I say children, because older persons would confess the damage; but a young child might tear that page out; thereby not only protecting itself, but (according to child logic) making the damage non existent.”
    Fenway did look shocked; he also looked uneasy. “The books were behind glass; no strange children had access to them, certainly no visiting small fry. And of course Caroline was incapable of treating a book in that way; like all of us, she took good care of her books. And if by some accident she had spoiled the picture, I can only assure you that she would have told me about it. She was not brought up,” and he raised his eyes to the portrait above the mantel, “quite as strictly as my generation was, you know; she had no fear of me. At the time—when I last saw the view, you know—she must have been eleven years old. Far too old… Oh,