suited to custodial work only."
Ma and Pa obediently signed their contracts, but June hesitated. She tried to make eye contact with her daughter, but Kate looked away. So June whispered to herself—"This is for the best"—and signed.
Kate's attention soon snapped back, however, when Cornelia added, "As far as the children's jobs ... George Melvil will work at the after-school preparatory. And since Kate Peters wants to learn to sing, she will be the personal assistant to Heidi Whittaker Austin."
Cornelia collected the contracts from Ma, Pa, and June.
Dr. Austin smiled. "So, your next question is, What will I be getting in return? I can tell you in three words: Test-Based Curriculum. Your children will soon understand the intricacies of standardized tests better than the people who write them. They will be
the
top test takers in America."
Ma, Pa, and June nodded tentatively, clearly unsure of the bargain they had just made. Kate shook her head at them slowly, in disbelief. Then she leveled a withering look at George.
George struggled to think of something to say to his niece. He actually opened his mouth to speak, anticipating that the words would come, as they always did. But this time his jaw simply hung open.
Dr. Austin turned to George. "You should score some impressive numbers here, my boy. A logical, levelheaded young man such as yourself makes the best kind of tester."
George finally thought of something. He raised his hand—more to attract Kate's attention than Dr. Austin's—and asked, "Is the Whittaker Library Building haunted?"
June squeaked like a mouse.
Dr. Austin froze.
Cornelia, however, erupted with rage. She took two giant steps and loomed over George. "How dare you ask that! Where did you ever hear such a thing?"
George, thoroughly cowed, ducked his head and hunched his thin shoulders. He mumbled weakly, "A website."
"A website! You had better forget about your websites, little boy, and start reading books. Books like mine! Only people who are jealous of the Whittakers, people like Andrew Carnegie, would say such a thing."
Dr. Austin restrained his wife with a firm hand and placed the other on the quivering shoulder of George Melvil. He assured him, "That kind of talk is nonsense, George. Absolute palaver. I have worked in this building for my entire adult life, and I give you my word, as a nationally renowned educator, that nothing abnormal, paranormal, supernatural, or preternatural has ever occurred within these walls."
He clapped George on the shoulder, signaling an end to the discussion. Then he turned to include Kate. "I know it's late, but I have one more treat in store for you young people. While my wife runs some credit checks on the grown-ups, you two will enjoy my personal tour of the building."
10. Mysterious Miss Pogorzelski
A flight of cement stairs took them down to the seventh-floor landing. The seventh floor, and every floor beneath it, contained rows of bookcases. Each case bore a sign on its endcap describing the topics and the range of Dewey decimal numbers to be found there.
Dr. Austin explained, "Our head librarian, Mrs. Hodges, is in charge of the seventh and the sixth floors. The books here are dedicated mostly to theology and philosophy."
Kate spotted Mrs. Hodges at the end of an aisle, removing an old book and carefully dusting it. She was thin and angular and dressed in a high-buttoned black dress. Her dark hair, pulled tight and hanging down her back, had a wide streak of gray in the middle, creating a skunklike effect, like someone had set out to make a coonskin cap but had used the wrong animal.
Dr. Austin led them down two more flights. "The fifth and the fourth floors are the realm of Miss Pogorzelski." Kate caught sight of a furtive figure in the stacks. She also wore a long black dress, but it was too large, and dirty, as if she had been outside jumping in puddles.
Dr. Austin's eyes searched the stacks for her. "We call her Pogo. She won't object if you