Read Applewhites at Wit's End for Free Online Page B

“I hope somebody can get this stuff where it belongs. I gotta be starting back right now.”
    The twin in blue squinted up into the sun. “Is it always this hot here? Where’s the pool? There’s supposed to be a pool!”
    â€œA pond, actually,” Lucille said. “It’s quite lovely. Entirely natural.”
    â€œThere’s a tour of the grounds scheduled for after the other campers arrive ,” E.D. told her.
    â€œDoes that dog bite?” the green twin asked. Winston’s barking had subsided, replaced by the occasional whuff to show he was still keeping an eye on things. “I’m not staying if he bites.”
    Jake shook his head. “He’s just nervous.”
    Jake had intended to lock Winston in Wisteria Cottage while the campers were arriving. The dog was frightened of new people till he got to know them. There was no way Jake could have known he should do it this early.
    Lucille was holding on to her welcoming smile, but Jake could tell it was taking an effort. “Jake,” she said, “why don’t you take those duffel bags down to Dogwood Cottage for the girls.”
    Jake went down the porch steps as the driver pulled a pair of tennis rackets from the trunk. “Might as well take those back with you,” Jake said. “No tennis court here.”
    â€œNo tennis court!” the blue twin wailed.
    Bruno put the rackets back and closed the trunk. “Nice to meet you,” he said to Lucille. “Good luck!” He got back into the car. “See you in August,” he called to the girls. He slammed the door and started the car.
    â€œSee you,” the green twin said.
    â€œWhatever,” said the other.
    As Jake went to pick up a duffel bag, the Mercedes roared away, spitting gravel. He could understand the man’s hurry to get away from the twins even if he didn’t have to be back in New Jersey that night.
    â€œNo tennis court!” the blue twin said again. “What kind of a camp is this anyway?”
    Jake had already thrown the first duffel bag over his shoulder, picked up the other one, and started down the path that led to the cottages.

Chapter Seven
    E .D. heard Aunt Lucille take a deep, calming breath . “You go on back to the kitchen,” E.D. told her. “I’ll help these two settle in. Get your suitcases, girls. I’ll take you to your bunk.” Mercedes and a driver or not, there was no reason these two couldn’t get their own bags to their bunk.
    The screen closed behind Aunt Lucille. The twins had made no move toward their suitcases. The green twin was staring up into the trees next to the house, an abstracted look on her face. With disapproving eyes, the blue twin, hands on her hips, scanned the house, then the yard, and finally what could be seen of the barn above the bushes. E.D. went down the stairs and found herself seeing Wit’s End suddenly—really seeing it—as the campers would.
    Some shingles were missing from the porch roof, and the main house badly needed a paint job. It was a stark contrast with the bright new sign Archie had made proclaiming it to be the Lodge. They couldn’t have afforded to paint the house; but why had no one thought, when the sign was hung, to clean the heavy, gray tangles of spiderwebs from around the eaves or to scrub the green algae or mold or whatever it was creeping up the siding from the ground?
    The scraggly combination of grass and various North Carolina weeds that constituted the front lawn had grown tall enough to be putting out seeds and a few raggedy flowers. And the barn, in spite of all the work that had been done last year to turn it into a theater, still looked shabby from the outside. There, too, the sign over the double doors, with its gold leaf lettering— WIT’S END PLAYHOUSE —made the dull, flaking, barn red paint look even worse by comparison.
    E.D. started down the gravel path toward the