The Callender Papers by Cynthia Voigt Read Free Book Online

understood the difficulties.
    â€œWhat work do you do up there?” he asked.
    â€œI’m cataloging some papers,” I told him, making it sound as important as I could. “Family papers,” I added.
    â€œDoes he pay you?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI suppose you need the money. Are your parents . . .” He looked for a word. “. . . needy?”
    â€œI’m an orphan. I live with my aunt.”
    â€œThat’s all right then,” he said.
    I wanted him to know that it was not need but my own ability that earned me the job. “My aunt is headmistress of a school in Cambridge. A school for girls. Mr. Thiel wrote her and asked if she knew anybody who could do the work.”
    â€œWhat happened to your parents?” he asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” I replied.
    â€œHow can you not know?” he asked, then he turned red under his tan and quickly changed the subject. “My father is the doctor here. We came up from New Haven. We’ve only lived here five years.”
    â€œHe’s not Dr. Carter, is he?” I remembered how Mrs. Bywall had spoken of the doctor.
    â€œThat old horse doctor? Not a chance. Father practices medicine . Carter—well, he didn’t. We came here just after he died. Father bought his practice.”
    â€œI’ve heard something about Dr. Carter from Mrs. Bywall the housekeeper.”
    â€œShe was in prison.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œWhat’s she like? Does she talk about jail? Nobody ever sees her. People still sometimes talk about her, but nobody talks to her. Although they seem to feel sorry for her. The parents say she’s not fit company for children.”
    â€œDo your parents say that?”
    â€œNot in so many words. They don’t agree, but they don’t disagree either. Aah, it’s a small town, Marlborough. People here don’t have much to talk about so they talk too much about things that they don’t know about. And the Callenders—well, they keep their distance up on the hill. Maybe if they didn’t, people wouldn’t talk. But then they’d just find someone else to talk about—maybe even me —so I shouldn’t complain. But it’s interesting how they feel about strangers. Old Dan Thiel is a local man. They don’t say much about him. But they don’t think much good of him.”
    I wanted to ask this boy what they did say, but I didn’t want to gossip. Also, I didn’t know whether he could be trusted to tell the truth. I missed Aunt Constance’s advice. I knew that she would have let me know whether or not Mac was a boy I could ask questions of. Perhaps I could write to ask whether shethought he was. But what could she tell from just my descriptions?
    â€œYou must be smart to have work like that,” Mac said. “I’ve seen you, you know.”
    â€œSeen me?” This alarmed me, because I’d never seen him before. “Where?”
    â€œI can track like an Indian,” he said. “I’ve followed you.”
    â€œI don’t believe it,” I said.
    â€œYou wouldn’t hear a bear coming after you.” He laughed. “Your favorite spot is the waterfall,” he added to prove his point.
    I was speechless. He had been spying on me and I hadn’t known. I felt my face grow hot. And I was angry. “What a low and sneaky thing to do.”
    â€œI’ve told you, haven’t I?” The back of his neck, however, grew red.
    â€œIt’s still sneaky.” I thought for a minute. “I know Latin,” I announced.
    â€œAnd geometry too, I guess,” he said sarcastically.
    â€œI’ve begun geometry. I can translate Caesar.”
    â€œHogwash.” He stared at the water. He jiggled his rod.
    â€œSuit yourself,” I said and stood up. “But I could probably help you study.” I don’t know why Iadded that; just for extra meanness I’m