Little Klein Read Online Free PDF Page B

Clambush, whose trim hat and suit gave an official air.
    “SHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhh,” said everyone at once as Cornelia Clambush guiltily dropped her book and looked behind her to discover at whom these ruffians were pointing.
    “No,” said Luke in what he supposed was a whisper. “That’s her over there.” He pointed his own crusty claw at Muriel, who shut the card drawer on her finger. As the gang of Kleins tromped the fourteen paces to the reference checkout desk, no one went back to their reading.
    Miss Muriel looked at the Reverend, trying to send him a signal to pray for her. The sight of three broad and scruffy boys was not tempered by the scrawny one at their side. While Muriel had weathered any number of unusual patron requests in her three-week tenure as a professional librarian and even a storm that blew out the west window, she had not yet faced imminent bodily harm from a pack of hoodlums.
    She grabbed the dictionary, held it in front of her face, and, when the biggest asked, “Ummm?” she whimpered, “Take anything. There’s no money in the building, but take anything else you want, only please don’t hurt me. And please leave
Jane Eyre
as it is my favorite.”
    The boys shuffled from foot to foot, not sure how to respond to her request, until Widow Flom laughed. Out loud.
    “Muriel,” she screeched in between guffaws, “Muriel, may I introduce the Klein Boys. Boys, this is Miss Muriel, our new librarian.” That was as far as she could get before she had to flop down in a chair with her handkerchief and let the fit take her over. The sound of Widow Flom’s laughter was like a drug wherever she used it, and soon the entire patronage of Lena Library was giggling, hiccing, tittering, and out-and-out laughing. The Klein Boys joined in, too, imagining themselves stars in some grand joke they hadn’t known they’d planned but would take the credit for nonetheless.
    “Muriel,” Widow Flom finally continued, “your job is to serve. Won’t you ask these gentlemen what they need?”
    Muriel, who had allowed herself a few self-conscious titters, lowered her dictionary and asked in as librarianish a voice as she could muster, “May I help you, Misters Klein?”
    “Yes, please. Our mother sent us here to check out some books. She is planting flowers in our yard, and we need to know . . .” Mark held out his hand to Little Klein, who gave him a piece of paper and a library card. “We need to know, ‘How far apart do you plant zinnia seeds? How much sun do cosmos require? What does one feed roses and which ones grow best in northern climates?’ And, um, what is a heliotrope?”
    “And allergies,” added Little Klein hastily. “We need a book about allergies.”
    The Reverend Missus Clambush could be silent no longer. “A garden!” she exclaimed. “Why, you can’t learn gardening from a BOOK! No offense, Muriel, but BOYS! Where do you LIVE? Now, PEOPLE!” this addressed to the patrons who had not returned to their reading material, “The mother of these boys is in NEED. Put down your BOOKS and follow ME.”
    Cornelia Clambush thrust her book at Muriel and with a sweeping motion gathered the entire Saturday population of Lena Library into a reluctant huddle around the Klein Boys. “We are being CALLED to SERVICE this day. BOYS, lead us home.”
    Muriel hastily produced
Gardening Basics
but had to stay at the library to cover the desk.
    “No!” the boys cried at once.
    “Well!” huffed Cornelia.
    “What we mean is, that’s okay, Mrs. Clambush,” said Matthew as politely as he could manage. “We’ll take it from here.”

Cornelia Clambush did not accompany them home that day, but she soon found occasion to be in the Klein neighborhood.
    “Boys!” she sang in two syllables as they tossed a football in the street. “Is your mother at home? I divided my hostas and must find someone with space in their garden. You can go get them and bring them here. We’ll go ask her now,