Free The Outcasts of 19 Schuyler Place by E.L. Konigsburg Page B

glass you see there is from those old jars. I like to mix the colors and also to mix glass and porcelain and the metal parts from Morris’s old clocks.”
    â€œI saved all the old parts,” Morris said. “Worn-out gears, I saved, and balance wheels. Sometimes there were chimes.”
    â€œThere is a part inside a clock that is called an
escape wheel.
It is round and has sawteeth. I loved when Morris had one of those. Those I made into a feature attraction.”
    â€œAnd you didn’t love when I brought home a balance spring?”
    â€œOf course I loved the balance springs.” He turned to Jake and pleaded, “Did you hear me say I didn’t love the balance springs?”
    Jake didn’t know if he was to answer or not. Instead, he said, “The mix is good. I like it a lot.”
    Morris grunted. “The balance wheels, he bound with wire, and these he hung on the towers like earrings.”
    Alex nodded. “Yes, like earrings.”
    â€œDid you hang them so that some of them would strike one another like wind chimes?”
    Alex got a faraway look in his eyes. “They sing, you know. When the wind blows, the towers sing. The wind decides the pitch. When it blows strong, the heavy ones sing bass and compete with the crystal, which is a soprano.” He smiled to himself.
    â€œWas that deliberate or a happy accident?” Jake asked. Alex shrugged his Old World shrug. “The answer is yes and no. It just happened; it was worked out; it was an accident; it was planned. Maybe an accident led to a plan. Maybe the accident was part of a greater plan. Who knows?”
    Uncle Morris said, “The Noxzema looks pretty, but it makes a clunky sound. To the Noxzema and the Milk of Magnesia, you shouldn’t listen.”
    â€” Downtown was booming
    After the war, the veterans returned, and college enrollment swelled, and so did the population. Margaret Rose Landau gave birth to my mother, Naomi. Mrs. Bevilaqua gave birth to Loretta, and Mrs. Vanderwaal had Peter.
    Returning World War II veterans were getting married, and Jewels Bi-Rose was selling a lot of engagement rings and bridal shower gifts and strings of pearls for the groom to give to the bride and watches for the bride to give to the groom.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    â€œAfter the war Morris started again making trips to repair town clocks. Those were the years when we could count on our sister, Margaret, to help out in the store. Our sister couldn’t repair watches—only Morris could do that—but Margaret knew quality, and she knew how to be nice to customers. We could always count on her.”
    Morris said, “When our sister was living, we didn’t need any Helgas or tattooed boys.”
    I said, “There was a girl in my cabin at camp who had a tattoo.”
    Uncle Morris was shocked. “A girl your age?” I nodded. “A real tattoo?” I nodded. Looking pained, Uncle Morris said to Jake, “Until these last few years, I didn’t even know anyone with a tattoo except survivors from the concentration camps. And I can tell you, those tattoos were not a decoration. They were numbers. Numbers for purposes of identification. The Nazis turned people into numbers.” He shook his head sadly. “But today, these kids decorate their arms and who knows what else. . . .” He looked over at me.
    â€œHer
tush,”
I said. “Ashley Schwartz has a tattoo on her tush.”
    Uncle Alex grinned. “A tattoo of what?” he asked.
    â€œA rose,” Jake answered.
    â€œYou’ve seen it?” I asked, shocked.
    Jake smiled. “Of course I’ve seen it. Every time she puts on her bikini. If she didn’t want people to see it, she would have had it below the bikini line.” Uncle Morris was still shaking his head. Jake cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Where did the clock faces come from?”
    Uncle Alex