The Root Cellar Read Online Free PDF Page B

York!”
    “Sam!” Aunt Nan said sharply. “That’s enough! You’re fourteen years old. I know it’s been hard for you but I think you might—” A door slammed. In a moment it was opened again and Rose heard Aunt Nan’s voice, more faintly: “Honestly, Bob, I think Sam is behaving.…” The door closed.
    Rose was shattered. She had never heard herself attacked like that before. Snooty. Snob. What did he mean? And her hair wasn’t pink! She got up and turned on the light and went to look at herself in the round mirror that hung over the dresser. She pulled furiously at the hated short ends of her red hair. What had she done to make him say things like that? She lay awake most of the night, cold and shaking, saying Sam’s unkind words over and over to herself.
    The next morning she stuffed the fur jacket, and the boots, and the black velvet pants, into the back of her closet and tied a large kerchief around her head. She could not look at Sam. Every time he came into the room she stiffened. She felt exposed, defenseless. She did the chores Aunt Nan set for her in silence, and she spent most of the time in the next two days huddled in her thin sweater with her back against the hawthorn tree in the glade, finding comfort inthe creek’s soft gurgle as it flowed over the sticks and stones.
    On Thursday Aunt Nan took her to school in Soames and talked to Mr. Hodgins, the principal, who wrinkled up his face and coughed a dry little cough at the news that Rose had never been to school.
    “I don’t believe we’ve ever had a problem like this before.”
    “You could give her a test, couldn’t you, and find out how much she knows? I’m sure Rose isn’t stupid.”
    “Yes, yes, I was going to suggest that, Mrs. Henry.”
    Rose thought,
No, he wasn’t. He’s a fool
. But she sat down obediently and read a simple story out loud, wrote a couple of paragraphs about it, did some arithmetic problems, spelled a short list of words, and answered a few questions about geography.
    “Amazing.” Mr. Hodgins coughed his dry little cough twice. “Your grandmother must have been a fine teacher.”
    “Yes.”
    “Well!” Mr. Hodgins was clearly a bit taken aback by her ready agreement. “You can probably go right into grade eight without any trouble.”
    Aunt Nan took Rose to the local dry-goods store afterward. “You can’t wear those goodskirts all the time,” she said and bought two pairs of jeans, a couple of T-shirts, a jacket, and a pair of running shoes. Rose put on her new clothes the minute they got home. With her kerchief tied securely around her head she felt, if not comfortable, less conspicuous.
    First thing Saturday morning the phone rang. It was a girl from Toronto to ask if she and her mother could drive out to see the ghost. Aunt Nan had said to all the children on Tuesday, “You must come and visit,” but she had never expected that any of them would. “Come, of course,” she told the girl, and she said it to three others who called that day. It was like a constant parade of sightseers all entranced by the “weird” place where Nan Henry wrote her books. One girl asked Rose admiringly if she was Emily of Shadow Brook Farm, to which Rose replied frostily, “My name is not Emily and this, thank heaven, is the first time in my life I’ve ever been near a farm.”
    That evening as she was setting the table and the last visitor was pulling out of the driveway, she muttered angrily to herself, “This place is like a zoo. Next time someone comes I’m going to jump up and down and ask for a banana.” She turned to see Sam standing in the doorway, grinning. “Don’t laugh at me!” she hissed. She was horrified to realize there were tears in her eyes. “You and your stupid ghosts! You made allthose people come! I don’t care if you hate me! I don’t care if you think my hair is pink! I don’t care if you think I’m a snob! Just don’t you dare laugh at me!” She threw down the silverware with a