The Vanishing Sculptor Read Online Free PDF

the floor. I’m so glad Rolan is strong. He’s the best of neighbors, as I am sure you are aware.”
    Bealomondore shot across the room to give aid.
    Lady Peg’s face folded into lines of confusion. “I don’t believe you are a neighbor, sir. Do I know you? Do you know Rolan? What are you doing in our house? We generally do not accept visitors. Company disturbs my husband.”
    Tipper’s mother turned a worried look upon her daughter.
    “This is Master Bealomondore, Mother. He’s respectable and from a fine family on the coast, beyond the Sunset Mountains.”
    The tumanhofer faced Lady Peg and bowed deeply. “Madam, is the clock in precisely the right location? Do you want us to shift it left or right?”
    “To the left three inches so that it is exactly between those two bookcases.” Lady Peg tapped her finger against her chin. “No, no, I don’t remember any Bealomondores. I don’t know you at all.”
    Rolan and the tumanhofer shouldered the clock to one side. Bealomondore stepped back to eye the symmetry of the new location. Rolan cast Tipper an apologetic look.
    She nodded, knowing full well the good farmer had tried his best to delay her mother’s arrival.
    “Is this satisfactory, Lady Peg?” Bealomondore nodded toward the clock.
    “Not at all.”
    The tumanhofer turned back to gaze at the position of the huge piece. “I believe it is centered, Madam. Would you like us to obtain a measuring stick?”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “The clock. Precisely, the clock’s position in relationship to the two bookcases.”
    Tipper’s mother squared her shoulders and looked the visitor in the eye. “Young man, clocks do not have relationships with bookcases. At least not in my house. The whole idea is preposterous and, I believe, most improper. Tipper says you are respectable, but I am not convinced you even have an acceptable understanding of what is decent and upright.”
    Rolan stepped forward with humor barely concealed by his twitching lips. “Lady Peg, we must be reasonable. The clock is upright. I don’t believe the young tumanhofer is completely off kilter.”
    The lady frowned. “You are right, and generally I respect your opinion. But I do not know any Bealomondores, Rolan. You can’t say I do.”
    The gentleman farmer nodded. “But Mistress Tipper knows one, Lady Peg.”
    Her mother turned to Tipper. “You do? Which Bealomondore are you acquainted with?”
    Tipper threw propriety to the wind and pointed to their guest. “That one.”
    She waited for the reprimand.
    “Don’t point, Tipper. There is no call to lower our standards of decorum.”
    Lady Peg glanced over the tumanhofer one more time. When her gaze returned to Rolan, her smile blossomed.
    “Rolan, you are ever the good neighbor. Thank you for my excursion to Soebin. I enjoyed the company of your good wife, Zilla.” She patted his brawny arm. “But please excuse me now. I’m tired, and there is a Bealomondore in my house. I must find Verrin Schope and inform him of this intrusion. And then I am going to bed. Tipper, have Gladyme bring me toast and warm milk, please.”
    “Yes, Mother.”
    Lady Peg strolled out of the room, looking very much like a regal noblewoman who was not one bit tired.
    As soon as the door closed behind her, Bealomondore clapped his hands together.
    “Does this mean I shall see Verrin Schope tonight? Will he come here to investigate the intrusion when Lady Peg informs him I am here?”
    “Not a chance,” said Rolan at the same time Tipper commented, “I doubt it.”
    Bealomondore looked from one to the other. “Does anything ever proceed in a natural manner in this household?”
    Rolan and Tipper both answered, “Never.”

5
Somewhat Truthful
     
    Tipper stirred her tea, the tiny silver spoon ringing against the delicate porcelain cup.
    “You’re nervous, my dear,” said Beccaroon.
    “It’s your fault.”
    Beccaroon tilted his head, and his eyes widened.
    “Yes, you,” said Tipper.