Pinky Pye by Eleanor Estes Read Free Book Online Page A

lightly on her thin bony back she balanced on the sill for a moment and then leaped silently to the ground. The screen swung down and closed behind her, giving only the slightest sort of squeak.
    Daintily and quietly Pinky sidled along in a roundabout route to mislead any watcher as to her true destination. Finally she landed right next to Uncle Bennie, who was so absorbed he had no idea he now had company in the hunt. His companion took up her position nearby in a small clump of wispy grass, and she, too, waited. She watched the ladybug crawling over Uncle Bennie's hands, for nothing was too small or trivial for her complete and earnest study.
    Then, aware that Uncle Bennie's eyes were fixed unblinkingly on something, she looked where they were looking and saw the cricket. The cricket was eyeing the ladybug. The ladybug in lovely innocence was only trying to put her wing in order. Uncle Bennie was eyeing the cricket and now Pinky was eyeing the cricket likewise. Pinky's stomach was full and she was in no great hurry for food. Right now education was what Pinky was interested in. How a boy caught a cricket. She watched, now the cricket, now the ladybug, and now Uncle Bennie, approvingly.
    Uncle Bennie decided that just lying on his stomach with a ladybug tickling his hand would not catch the cricket. He began wiggling, squirming, lying still, feigning sleep, yet, inch by inch, making a little headway toward the cricket. When he was quite close, he leaned on his elbow, held out the hand that had the ladybug in it toward the cricket, and hoped the cricket would be tempted to hop into this hand.

    At last the cricket did jump. Pinky's tail gave a twitch and her eyes followed the cricket, but otherwise not a muscle moved. The cricket had not jumped into the palm of the noisy fellow but over his head somewhere. Both Uncle Bennie and Pinky slowly revolved. Hurray! There was the cricket. He had hopped right behind Uncle Bennie and was brightly eyeing him again.
    He likes me,
thought Uncle Bennie.
He wants to be my pet.
"Come here," he coaxed.
    Until now Pinky had not had a very great respect for Uncle Bennie. He was so noisy! But now he was being as quiet as she was, and she found herself admiring him. He was pondering his moves carefully, he was in no hurry, he was persistent, and she had a feeling he would win. His pleasing, rather husky voice apparently made a favorable impression on the cricket, for all of a sudden it hopped right into the palm of Uncle Bennie's hand. This happened just in the nick of time, for Pinky, deciding not to let admiration lead her out of the bounds of reason and drooling for too long over a postponed treat, had leaped for the cricket at the very same moment that it had hopped. But she missed it because, like a tiddlywink, it had already popped into the cup of Uncle Bennie's hands, which were gently closing together, and Uncle Bennie had caught his first alive Fire Island pet, a cricket, rather small and with a pretty voice. It gave an inquiring little chirp as though to say, "Oh, where am I?"
    "Don't worry," said Uncle Bennie softly. "You are going to be my best pet. I won't let the cats get you—go away, Pinky!—and all you need to do is to eat and drink and sing."
    Pinky was smugly cleaning her white paw. She was pretending that she had meant for her pounce to send the cricket into Uncle Bennie's hands and that otherwise she had no interest in the cricket. Then, paw suspended in midair, she cocked her head and studied the uncle. He really had done well. Was he going to eat the cricket? No. Not now. He put it in his pocket, a rather torn airy pocket in his short pants. Well, quite often she, too, did not eat what she had caught the minute she caught it. Tuck a battered mouse under something, pretend to go away—mouse would come to life, attempt to escape—pounce on it again, play with it some more, and then, eat it up! That was a very good game.
    Uncle Bennie was talking to his captive. "I'm naming