Emmy and the Home For Troubled Girls Read Online Free

over hand. “We could nail it to the front.”
    â€œNot the front, you landlubber,” said Joe, “the bow . And you have to ask the captain’s permission to bring something on deck.”
    â€œCan I?” Thomas asked, grunting a little as the thing he was towing caught.
    â€œYou don’t say it like that. You say, ‘Permission to bring cargo aboard,’ and then you say ‘captain’ or ‘sir.’”
    â€œPermission to bring cargo aboard, sir?”
    â€œPermission granted,” said Joe, helping Thomas yank the object free. It came over the edge with a clatter of wood on wood, rolled to Emmy’s feet, and stopped, its small carved faces staring sightlessly.
    â€œWow! Remember this, Emmy?” Joe untied the cord from Miss Barmy’s cane. “It’ll be a perfect figurehead!”
    Emmy stared at the little faces. Up here in the tree fort, as the sun moved over the carved surfaces with light and shadow, the cane looked different, somehow. The entwined hair looked more elaborately carved than she had ever noticed—almost like some kind of curving script—
    â€œHey!” Emmy leaned closer, tracing the woodenstrands with her finger. “These are letters … There’s a ‘P,’ and an ‘R’…”
    â€œI … S … C …” said Joe, moving along the wooden strands with his finger. “I … L … It’s a name! Priscilla .”
    Emmy looked up. “That’s old William Addison’s daughter,” she said slowly. “The one who died, or drowned, or something …”
    Joe nodded soberly. “This one’s Ana,” he said, tracing the hair of another tiny face. “And … Berit. And Lisa.”
    â€œThe one next to her is Lee,” said Emmy, turning the cane gently. “And this one—the littlest—is Merry.”
    Thomas and the Rat moved in closer. There was a long silence.
    â€œI wonder where they all are now,” said Thomas.

T HE AFTERNOON SUN SLANTED through the dusty air of the attic room. The window was dirty, but the rays stamped the wooden floor with gold, and a long trapezoid of light stretched out to touch a small girl with her back to the wall.
    She was very small—about four inches high—with long brown hair and watchful eyes. Her name was Ana, and as the sun warmed her bare legs, she looked up and quickly pushed a bundle of knotted shoelaces under one of the long shelves that lined the room from floor to ceiling. “Almost time,” she called, clapping her hands twice.
    Light footfalls stirred the dust as three tiny girls, clothed like Ana in handkerchief dresses of ragged white, came running from various parts of the vast room. Ana reached up to unhook a shoelace ladder from the shelf above, and the girls began to climb.
    â€œInto the box with you,” said Ana, giving an encouraging smile to the youngest, who hung back. “Where’s Berit?”
    â€œI dunno.” The child put a ragged piece of cloth to her cheek and smoothed it with her thumb. “Ana, I don’t like the box.”
    â€œNo one likes the box, Merry.” Ana gave the child a boost up the knotted ladder. “But Miss Barmy moved into our old house, and you wouldn’t want to live with her, would you?”
    Merry shook her head vigorously.
    â€œAll right, then. You try to be brave, and I’ll tell you a story tonight.”
    â€œWe’re usually brave,” said a voice from within the box. “Right, Lee?”
    â€œRight, Lisa,” said another voice, sounding identical to the first.
    The floor vibrated slightly. Ana turned, listening, and the voices fell silent.
    There was another vibration, and another, as if a giant were stepping heavily somewhere outside the room. Ana cupped her hands around her mouth. “Berit!” she called, her voice anxious. “He’s early!”
    There was a flurry of