Little Klein Read Online Free PDF

then you’re going to the library.”
    The library? Their eyes widened. They groaned.
    “I don’t want to hear another word. I’ll do the dishes while you find everything.”
    “But Mother, I wanted . . .” Little Klein tried again.
    “Woof,” said LeRoy. “Woof.”
    “You can help your brothers or dry the dishes,” said Mother Klein, distracted. Little Klein wandered off to the garage, LeRoy at his heels. What about his corn and potatoes and his pockets heavy with coins?
    When the kitchen was clean, Mother Klein stood in front of her curious boys and plucked supplies one by one. First she wandered around the yard, taking long paces and randomly poking croquet hoops into the ground. Then she tied one end of the ball of string to a corner hoop and walked from hoop to hoop, tying one to another until the yard was a grid, a map of little states of different shapes and sizes.
    “Don’t ask yet,” she said as she untied and retied until the map met her satisfaction. LeRoy paced the small section that surrounded his house, whimpering and afraid to cross the line.
    “Oh, for Pete’s sake, haven’t you ever seen string before?” Mother said. “Go on down to the river for your nap, why don’t you.” But LeRoy couldn’t get himself to step over those strings. Finally, she lifted his front legs, then his back legs, and shooed him to the alley, where LeRoy looked forlornly back at her. Where was his calm, singing mistress? Who was this scurrying woman with the sharp voice? When she didn’t answer his cries, LeRoy turned and plodded off to the river, not stopping to enjoy the ripening smells of things in decay.
    Back in the yard, Mother Klein chewed on the pencil as she studied her states.
    “I don’t know what we’re going to do with that dog when your father comes home,” she muttered. Then “Roses,” she finally declared, and reached for a gum wrapper. R oses, she wrote on the wrapper. She gently lifted the leg of a hoop and threaded the paper onto it. She walked to a long skinny state near the house.
    “Cosmos,” she said. “Zinnias.” She reached for two more papers and threaded these both on one hoop. The largest state she labeled daisies . When mums and heliotrope had also been given statehood, she turned to the boys.
    “What do you mean, ‘what we’re going to do with that dog’?” Mark asked.
    “Your father’s sensitive to barking,” said Mother. “And he doesn’t like dogs and that’s that.”
    “One more,” she said. “Any ideas?” The usually rambunctious boys had been stunned into near lethargy and were watching their mother from under the tree.
    “Well?”
    “Pickles,” said Little Klein.
    “Everyone in agreement?” she asked.
    “Can’t grow pickles,” scoffed Luke.
    “It all starts with cucumbers,” said Mother Klein, “and cucumbers we can do.” She wrote pickles on the last wrapper, then stuck a croquet hoop through it and into the ground.

The most disturbing thing about the library was its lack of sound. To boys used to the continuous racket of their own company, the hush of the library was as frightening as a looming pack of boys was to the librarian. Fragrant summer air swirled in when the boys stumbled through the door. It hung around them for a moment before being absorbed by the somber book air that had lived in the library for the eternity of its existence.
    Miss Muriel glanced up from the card catalog where she was helping Janet Wallace find a book on bees. Mr. Olafson paused over the
Farmer’s Almanac
. Reverend Clambush looked up from a stack of gardening books from which he was gathering metaphors for his sermon, and The Reverend Missus Clambush lowered the book she was using to disguise her interest in the activities of Widow Flom, who was perusing the fiction section. LeRoy’s barks floated through the open window.
    “Let’s ask
her,
” said Little Klein in his outdoor voice, pointing a dirt-crusted finger at The Reverend Missus