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or rest. I’ll have these things cleaned in a jiffy, I will.”
    Robby helped Miss Stone up the stairs, and Martha followed. “Thank you, Robby, my boy,” she said when they reached her door, and turning to Martha she added, “I’ll just have a little rest, and then I’ll tell you all about the Pilgrims.” She started through her door, but she turned back. “Robby,” she said, “please come in for a moment.”
    She closed the door behind them and then said, “Robby, I hope you will be kind to little Martha. The child has a great sadness inside her.”
    â€œI don’t think she’s right—in the head, I mean.”
    Miss Stone laughed. “What makes you think that?”
    â€œI don’t know exactly.” He shrugged. “She acts like she’s afraid of us or something. Especially me.”
    â€œShe’s shy, that’s all. Remember, everything here is new to her, and she may never have known a boy before.” She sank down to sit on her bed. “Most of all, remember she has recently lost her mother. A child who has no mother feels very much alone in the world.”
    Robby began inching backward toward the door. “All right,” he said. “I’ll try being kind to her, if ever she gives me a chance.”
    â€œDoes it bother you that I am letting her read my books?” She slipped off her shoes, lay down on the bed, and motioned him to her. “After all, they are almost yours.”
    â€œI don’t mind. Can she really read, you think, or does she just look at the pictures?”
    â€œOh, she can read very well. I asked her to read a passage from ‘The Ugly Duckling’ to me.” She closed her eyes. “I am very tired these days. I told your father just yesterday that you are to have my books when I am gone to my rest.”
    Robby frowned and looked at the floor. “No, don’t talk of such things. You won’t die for a long, long time.”
    She smiled up at him. “I told him that my ancestors are famous for returning to haunt those who go against our last wishes.” She laughed. “I told that father of yours that I would make him miserable if he tried to sell my books.” She smiled again. “I think he believed me. I am quite a good liar.”
    Robby felt a lump rise up in his throat. Saying nothing more, he bent and kissed her cheek. She was asleep before he got to the door.
    When he stepped out into the hall, he was surprised to see Martha standing in the open doorway to her room. “I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, and he could see that she was very excited. “Please come into my room. I want to show you …” She did not finish the sentence. Instead she ran to the window and motioned for him. “Come quick,” she said.
    From the open window, the barking of a dog drifted to him. “There’s a kitten down there,” she said, and pointed. “I think it must be lost. That dog chased it up the tree, and now he keeps jumping up, trying to reach it.”
    Robby went to the window. The cat was small and yellow. “That dog lives down the street a house or two. Most likely he’ll give up and go home before long,” he said. He started to move away, but Martha reached out to hold on to his arm.
    â€œRobby,” she said, “I know you don’t like me, but if you will just help me with the kitten, I won’t trouble you ever again. I want you to help me get it and bring it into the house.”
    Robby pulled his arm free. He would not confess his resentment over having to share Miss Stone and her books. “I’ve got nothing against you,” he said. “It made me mad that you wouldn’t answer Miss Stone’s question, that’s all.” She said nothing, only dropped her gaze to the floor. He stepped away from the window. “You’d best forget the cat, though,” he said.