The Fantastic Family Whipple Read Online Free Page B

at his father’s back, holding little Ivy in one arm and a three-inch-thick newspaper in the other.
    “Paper, sir?” offered the housekeeper.
    “Oh, yes—thank you, Mrs. Waite,” Mr. Whipple replied, taking the hefty newspaper and unfurling it before him. “A little light reading might do me some good at the moment.”
    The front page of
The World Record
(the Most Circulated Newspaper on Earth) was scattered with record-breaking headlines from across the globe, including: SOVIET BEAR “BORIS” BECOMES FIRST ANIMAL IN SPACE—BEATING AMERICAN EAGLE “KEITH” BY LESS THAN FOUR MINUTES; and LARGEST EVER EXPEDITION TO SOUTH POLE VIA ICE CREAM VAN ARRIVES ON SCHEDULE; and FIRST NUCLEAR POWER PLANT HAS FIRST NUCLEAR REACTOR LEAK.
    What Arthur’s father failed to notice, however, was the tiny picture of a certain smiling man in the paper’s lower half.
    Mrs. Waite hesitated a moment before turning to carry Ivy and her matching toy bear off for their post-breakfast activities—but then turned back to Mr. Whipple. “Pardon my asking, sir,” she said, pointing to the thumbnail photo at the bottom corner of the paper, “but who’s this fellow on the front page here? Says he’s returning to the world-record-breaking scene after nearly two decades—like it’smeant to be news. But I can’t say I’ve ever heard of him. What’s his name—
Rex Goldwin
, is it?”
    Mr. Whipple gave a violent cough as he nearly choked on his last bite of French toast. Even from across the table, Arthur could see the color drain from his father’s face.
    “Sir?” said the housekeeper. “Are you quite all right? Why, you don’t look well at all. I hope I’ve not done anything to upset you.”
    Arthur’s father swallowed hard, pounded twice on his chest, and shook his head. “No,” he wheezed, “not at all, Mrs. Waite.”
    Mrs. Whipple gave a concerned look to her husband. “What ever is the matter, dear?” she said.
    “Nothing,” the man replied gruffly. “It’s just—it’s…nothing.” He crumpled the newspaper shut and rose from his chair. “Excuse me.” And with that, he turned and strode off toward the house.
    His family looked on in puzzlement.
    “Dad really ought to have that indigestion checked out,” said Cordelia. “If he’d ever make an appointment, I’d be happy to diagnose him.”
    “Well,” said Arthur’s mother some moments later, “it was a bit of an odd exit, but I believe your father has the right idea. We’ve all got a busy day ahead of us if we’re to make the eligibility requirement for the championships by our birthday, so let’s get a move on, shall we? Simon, Arthur, Beatrice—you may finish your breakfast; everybody else—you are excused. Mrs. Waite,” she added, risingfrom the table and turning to the housekeeper, “you may fetch Mr. Mahankali for leftovers distribution.”
    As usual, there was a sizable amount of food remaining, and the Whipples saw to it that nothing went to waste. As a matter of procedure, they donated half of every uneaten meal to a nearby orphanage, to help feed those less fortunate than themselves (and to secure the record for Most Food Donated to a Charitable Organization by a Single Donor)—while saving the other half to feed the Whipple animals.
    Mr. Mahankali, who trained and cared for the animals in the Whipple family menagerie, arrived promptly at the table on the back of Shiva, the World’s Largest Indian Elephant. It was a common mode of transportation for him, but visitors to the Whipple estate seldom remembered the enormous beast he rode on. They were too busy staring at the rider himself.
    At first glance, it was unclear whether he was the animal caretaker—or actually one of the animals. On closer inspection, it became apparent he was in fact humanoid, but every inch of his face was covered with long, dark, silver-streaked hair—which was parted in the middle and pulled back into a bow. Owing partly to the three-piece, pin-striped suit he