The Vandemark Mummy Read Online Free Page A

guess it’s a big deal for the college.”
    â€œBut I thought it wasn’t much of a collection.”
    â€œIt has historical interest. Just because something’s not worth a whole lot of money doesn’t mean it doesn’t have any value, Fin. Don’t be any more of a Philistine than you can help.”
    â€œEven junk is a big deal, as long as it’s old junk?”
    â€œJerk,” was all his sister had to say to that.
    â€œOh yeah?” But he couldn’t get interested in the quarrel. “Look,” he said, “There she is.” Mrs. Batchelor, dressed in her usual seersucker suit, emerged from the big glass doors behind a man who was as tall and weedy as she was. He wore khaki slacks and a turtleneck, and managed to look like someone from Greenwich Village, or maybe Paris, France. He looked like someone who was temporarily stranded in an alien environment, or at least he hoped it was temporary. He led Mrs. Batchelor over to where President Blight was standing. They ignored Phineas’s father. The reporter hopped around taking pictures.
    Phineas didn’t like to see his father being pretty much ignored, so he was glad to notice a man with a thick red-gold beard and bright red-gold hair come up to talk to his father. His father looked glad to see the man.
    â€œWho is that?” Althea asked.
    â€œI’ll find out.” Phineas went over and hunkered down beside the nearest tanners. These were a boy and girl who lay side by side on their backs, hands clasped, faces to the sun, eyes closed. “Excuse me,” Phineas said.
    They opened their eyes lazily.
    â€œDo you know who the guy with the beard is?” Phineas pointed.
    The boy raised himself onto one elbow. The girl closedher eyes again. “Simard,” the boy said. “History. Or Dr. Simard, as he likes his students to call him. The Rugman.”
    â€œRugman?” Phineas wondered.
    â€œYou know what a rugman is, don’t you, kid?”
    Phineas didn’t want to admit that he didn’t. He thought—rugs lie around and get stepped on. He figured a rugman was a wimp, a wussy. He grinned. “What kind of history does he teach?”
    The girl answered. “Ancient history mostly, you know, like, Babylonians, Phoenicians, Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans.”
    â€œBo-ring,” the boy said, lying back down and closing his eyes. “Most boring lectures I ever heard. And he only does lecture courses.”
    â€œHe publishes a lot. He’s successful,” the girl said. “Maybe you’re the boring one.”
    â€œHa ha. Who’s the guy the Rugman’s talking to?”
    â€œMy father,” Phineas said. “He’s going to be the curator of this collection.”
    â€œIf it ever gets here,” the boy muttered.
    The girl opened her eyes. “What’s your name?”
    â€œPhineas. Phineas Hall.”
    â€œNice to meet you, Phineas Hall. You ought to forget what we said about Dr. Simard. I thought you were a townie, otherwise . . .” she closed her eyes again and let the sun fall over her face.
    There was nothing more to say, so Phineas reported back to Althea, who didn’t even thank him for doing what she was too chicken to do herself. They waited a while more. The president kept looking at his watch.The expensive lady looked at hers, and talked at Mrs. Blight. She looked pretty cranky.
    More time passed, slowly. The students drifted away into the library, or the classroom building. The greeting party on the library steps chatted, and stood around, and looked at their watches.
    â€œWhy did they say ten-thirty if they didn’t mean it?” Althea grumbled. “Who said ten-thirty?” She was always finding out who was to blame, and blaming them. With perfect timing, the motor of a big truck ground in low gear from behind the library. At the same time, two people walked around the side of the building and up to