“You did, didn’t you?” Thomas said gently.

Unable to speak, Pesty nodded.

“Why did you do that?” Thomas said. “Why did you have to steal?”

“Thomas, that’s enough,” Mrs. Small said. She went over to Pesty. “Here now,” she said, putting her arms around Pesty’s thin shoulders. If ever a child needed a strong, sane mother, it was Pesty. Her hair hadn’t been combed today. Her coat was frayed and dirty, hardly any buttons. ...

Pesty sobbed, “I didn’t mean to steal it. Didn’t mean to break it! It was just—” She broke down and started to say, “It was just … for my … mama. To give her … something so pretty ... to play with so she wouldn’t … come here and run into … y’all.”

Mr. Small shook his head.

“Poor baby,” Mrs. Small whispered, hugging Pesty to her.

“Pesty, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Thomas said. “Oh, I don’t like having secrets, not even for a little while.”

“Neither—neither do I,” Pesty managed to say.

Mrs. Small gave Pesty a tissue to wipe her face.

“There’s only one thing …” Mr. Small said, but didn’t finish.

“What?” Thomas said.

His papa looked preoccupied, staring down the hall and out the door. He seemed to be seeing beyond the place where they were. “The next few days will be busy,” he said. “Thomas, I want you and Pesty to go on as before. But when I tell you—Pesty, will you do something I want you to do at once?”

“Well, sure, Mr. Small,” she said, wiping her eyes.

“Thomas, be ready when I need you. ...”

“Sure! But what’s going to happen?” he asked.

Mr. Small just shook his head. He was out of the kitchen, going down the hall to the parlor room, which had become his study. He closed the door behind him. After a while they heard the muffled sound of his voice on the telephone with someone.

I bet I know, Thomas thought. I bet we’re going to scare the daylights out of River Lewis and all the Darrow brothers one more time. I know that’s it!

Thomas, who knew how to whittle, knew how best to entertain his twin brothers, and knew something now about walking the underground, as Pesty did, was wrong this time. Wrong as he could be.

17

ON SUNDAY LIFE IN the Drear house calmed down from the exciting day before. There were no more startling discoveries, and no one entered the house uninvited. Up early Thomas’s papa shut his study door firmly behind him and talked on the telephone for a long time. He came back out for breakfast, but his expression seemed tightly closed.

Papa’s not about to tell anything, Thomas thought. Thomas resolved to take Great-grandmother Jeffers to see Mr. Pluto’s cave and the enormous hidden cavern. When she was still in bed, he told her, “You are just not going to believe your eyes when you see the you-know-what.”

Then his mama came in, said, “Not today, Thomas. Give Grandmother Rhetty a chance! It’s Sunday. It’s church.”

Darn! “I forgot all about it’s Sunday,” he said.

They took Great-grandmother Jeffers to church. The whole time there Thomas tried to be like his father, always alert, thinking and listening. My mind just wants to wander, he thought. He did enjoy hearing Pesty sing in the choir. And he pointed out Mac Dar-row, playing the organ, to Great-grandmother.

But it was over at last. “You are the biggest surprise, you have the best voice I have ever heard!” Great-grandmother exclaimed to Pesty.

“Thank you,” Pesty said shyly. Then she gave Mr. Small a searching look.

“That was fine singing, Pesty,” he said, but he had nothing else to tell her.

What will he say when he does ask her to do something? Thomas wondered. What is it going to be about?

“Mr. Thomas, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Pesty said to him. She hurried on.

“I liked the way you sang,” Thomas called after her as she left through a rear door. “She always sings real fine like that,” he told Great-grandmother.

Mac Darrow disappeared in the time it took Pesty and Thomas to talk. Let him just fall in a hole and get lost, Thomas thought.

They ate at a restaurant out in the country at the top of a high hill. They could see the college where Mr. Small taught history. Great-grandmother said politely, “Very nice country. Pretty hills.”

“Are you going to like it here, Great-grandmother?” Thomas asked.

“Oh my goodness!” she said. “You’re here, aren’t you? I’ll like it fine!”

The next day Pesty dropped by. “Be here tomorrow right after school,” Thomas told her. “We’re going to take Great-grandmother to Mr. Pluto’s.” Pesty sat down and waited long enough for Mr. Small to come home, to see if he would say something. Mr. Small did come in at last. He saw them, greeted them, hung up his coat. He stood over Thomas a moment before going off to his study.

“Sure is busy in his head,” Pesty said. “Wonder what it is he’s going to ask me.”

“I’m wondering if he ever will ask you something,” Thomas said, “or even if he remembers he said he would.”

Thomas didn’t see Pesty again until Tuesday, when she came over about three-thirty.

“Hi,” she said. She sat down next to him. He was having a snack.

“Hi, yourself. You got here fast,” Thomas said.

“I hurried,” she said.

“Won’t your mama be missing you?”

“Unh-unh,” Pesty said. “She wanted to walk with my daddy today, so he took her out in the fields with him.”

Thomas pictured River Lewis, leading Mattie around a cornfield. He fixed Pesty a bologna and cheese sandwich, with lettuce and mayonnaise, just like his.

“Thank you,” she said. “Can I have some milk?”

He got it for her. He heard Great-grandmother come out of the front parlor. The first thing this morning he had settled with her that he and Pesty would take her over to Mr. Pluto’s. The day wasn’t too cold, and the snow was gone.

“You’ll make it just fine today, Great Mother Jeffers,” Pesty said as Great-grandmother came into the kitchen.

“I’m so glad,” Great-grandmother said. “I need the walk.”

“It’s not too cold, not too bright either,” Thomas told her. “You want a sandwich before we go?”

“No, dear, I’ve had my lunch,” she said. “Let’s be on our way. I’ll leave a note on the refrigerator for Martha.” Mrs. Small had gone after the boys at nursery school and hadn’t got back yet.

They were soon bundled up and on the outside. Great-grandmother leaned on her cane with Pesty holding her arm on one side and Thomas on the other side.

In no time, it seemed, they neared Pluto’s place. They had gone around the hill and had found an easy grade where trees gave way to an open space.

“Why, look at this!” Great-grandmother Jeffers exclaimed.

“It’s a clearing,” Thomas said.

Before them was a rectangular bed of flat rock. At the end of the rock was a cave. The opening was covered by heavy plank doors. “Mr. Pluto’s,” Pesty said. With that the plank doors opened soundlessly. And there was Pluto, big as life. His white hair and long beard were like a cushion for his green eyes, the deep brown of his face.

“Well here!” Pluto exclaimed in greeting. He sounded a little hoarse still. “Heard somebody, and guess who!”

“Yes.” Great-grandmother laughed. “It’s a nice walk over here.”

“Come on in,” Pluto said. “Bet you never been in a cave, Mother Jeffers.”

“Not lately!” she said. That made Thomas laugh.

She gazed around the large underground room, thirty feet long. Its ceiling was jagged rock. And the floor was stone, a portion of which had a dark carpet. There was an armchair, a table, family pictures—they made her smile—all things one would find in a house. Great-grandmother had never seen a forge like Mr. Pluto’s where he hammered iron into horseshoes and harness rings. The large bellows used to blow air for the forge fire rested on a tree stump.

“But where is the … you-know-what-it’s-called?” Great-grandmother asked.