The Mysterious Howling Read Online Free Page A

might busy themselves with trivial, repetitive tasks as they wait for the surprise to wear off. Many a winning lottery ticket holder, upon receiving the news, has spent the entire afternoon methodically sharpening pencils; for all we know someare sharpening still, their winnings yet unclaimed.
    Temperamentally speaking, Penelope was more of a pencil sharpener than a yacht buyer. Earlier that very morning, she had been a sleepy girl on a noisy train, but now she was a professional governess in an enormous and unimaginably wealthy house. Part of her was itching to run to the nursery, meet the children, and begin instructing them immediately in Latin verbs and the correct use of globes. She was also eager to write Miss Charlotte Mortimer a letter, telling her the excellent news. But even more powerful than those urges was the urge to unpack her trunk and carpetbag and put her room in order. After all, Ashton Place was her home now, and as Agatha Swanburne often said, “A well-organized stocking drawer is the first step toward a well-organized mind.”
    Penelope’s trunk was brought up to a small, second-floor bedroom, and Mrs. Clarke sent a young lady’s maid named Margaret upstairs to help “put away your frocks and bonnets,” as the girl explained in her shy, squeaky voice. But when Penelope explained that she had brought many books and few clothes, all of which she would prefer to arrange herself, Margaret curtsied and left the new resident of Ashton Place to her own devices.
    With so few possessions, Penelope did not take long to complete her task. Within half an hour her garments were hung up or folded in dresser drawers, and a dozen carefully chosen books were displayed on the small shelf near the door, including her very own brand-new copy of Edith-Anne Gets a Pony, a good-bye gift from the girls at Swanburne. It was the first book in the Giddy-Yap, Rainbow! series—an excellent present, of course, but Penelope would have preferred Silky Mischief, which was her favorite. No matter; now that she would be earning a salary, Penelope resolved to buy copies of the entire series to read aloud to her pupils—what a happy chore that would be!
    The rest of the books she left in the trunk for the present, until they could find their permanent home in the nursery. There would be so much to do! She wondered if she would be allowed to have breakfast with the children and, if so, at what time. The interview with Lady Constance had been so brief and strange that there had been no chance to delve into such details.
    â€œStill,” she thought, “there will be plenty of opportunity to learn the ins and outs of my new position ‘on the job,’ as it were. For now, my sole occupation should be to acquaint myself with my new home—starting with this charming room.”
    At Swanburne, Penelope had always shared her sleeping quarters. The dormitory halls had each held a dozen girls, two to a cot. So, to have her own bed, in her own room, was an unheard-of luxury. And such a room! The flocked wallpaper had a delicate floral print, the floors were covered with fine Arabian carpeting in a leaf-and-ivy pattern, and the mahogany dresser had drawer-pulls carved in the shape of mushrooms. The four-poster bed was covered with soft, moss-green bedding embroidered with every decorative stitch Penelope had ever learned and many she had never seen before.
    Best of all: Tall French windows opened to a small, private balcony. Penelope threw the windows open and stepped outside. How delightful it was! Out here she could sit and take the air, read, admire the gardens near the house, and gaze at the majestic forest in the distance—
    â€œAhwooooooooooooooooooo!”
    â€œWoof! Woof!”
    â€œAhwooooooooooooooooooo!”
    There it was again—the baying, barking, and howling of the dogs. Could they be hungry again so soon after being fed? Did they miss their master and long for the thrill of the