Henry and Clara Read Online Free Page B

his young cousin, whose attention had been captured by a squirrel that couldn’t decide whether to head into the orchard or back to the cherry trees along the driveway. Howard smiled, but Henry was annoyed by the boy’s dereliction, and before Jared knew it, the backs of his legs were smarting from a blow delivered by his older brother. He erupted in wails, squatting down and grasping his bare calves, feeling the apple grease left by Henry’s stick. Howard shook his head, and up at her second-story window Clara clasped her book more tightly. “Game’s over,” pronounced Henry, abandoning the stick with a debonair toss. “And it’s Jared’s fault. Now stop whining. You’ll know to pay attention next time.”
    “Come on, Jared,” said Howard. “I’ll help you carve your pumpkin.” Halloween was just a few nights away.
    Henry, left alone, began throwing apples. Gracefully twisting his torso, he sent them into high, lonely arcs over the treetops before they plunged into the darkness of the orchard. Clara watched as they flew, and once, as Henry turned around to take another apple from the ground, he caught sight of her up at the window. He smiled and made a low, beseeching bow, sure the eager reader above him knew the balcony scene in
Romeo and Juliet
, which he and his classmates had studied at the Albany Academy. To tease her further, he fell to one knee and mimed the offering of a bouquet.
    Suddenly, for the first time tonight, Henry saw Ira Harris, who had stepped out onto the back porch of the house. He was giving his stepson a puzzled, discomfited look, but after turning to look up at the window, he chose to say only, “I’ll be up in a moment, Clara.” Henry nodded to him before disappearing into the orchard.
    Ira Harris went as promised to his daughter’s room and together they read some pages of the
Sketch Book
. More than an hour passed before he kissed her good night and went back down to his study to answer Mr. Fillmore’s letter. Throughout the storytelling, Clara had stolen glances out the window, looking for a sign of Henry. Now, after getting into her nightgown,she propped herself up on the windowsill and leaned out into the darkness. But still, the only face she saw was the fiery, cackling one of the jack-o’-lantern Howard had carved for Jared. She watched it flicker until she grew sleepy, and lowered her head to her folded arms on the ledge. She didn’t know how long she had dozed before she heard a low whistling sound, and awoke with a start. The flaming pumpkin had begun to move, was dancing on the night air.
    “I’m the Headless Horseman,” she heard a voice say — a boy’s imitation of an old man.
    She laughed. “Henry, you’re a fool.” He had his jacket pulled up over his head and the jack-o’-lantern riding above it, like a substitute skull.
    “Was that tonight’s tale from Mr. Irving?”
    “No,” she hissed, still laughing. “The Spectre Bridegroom.”
    “He’s dull, dull,
dull!
” he shouted.
    “Henry, you’ll wake the girls.”
    “Probably wake Will, too. I’m sure he’s already asleep.”
    “If you want to talk, come up here.” She shut the window and smiled, hoping he’d take her invitation. A moment later she heard him on the stairs, knew he had already gone past Papa’s study and was on his way to her.
    He flung open the door and stood there, his jacket once more pulled above his head, the candle he held lighting nothing but the empty space above.
    “Will you
stop?
” She laughed, taking the candle and pulling down his coat. “There’s no predicting you whenever your mother’s gone away.”
    “Well, you can’t be my mother, too,” he said, flopping down on the bed but keeping his boots off the counterpane. “You’re already my sister, and everyone calls you my cousin.”
    “I’ll be your teacher,” she said. “I think you’re in the mood to be read to. I think you’re envious of me and Papa and Mr. Irving.”
    He pulled the pillow over