Free Western Wind by Paula Fox Page B

it to dry in the sun. At the Herkimer house, Aaron was waiting for her, sitting on the ground, a sack of cookies balanced on one knee.
    â€œYou came! I’ve been waiting a hundred hours!” he cried.
    Mrs. Herkimer came to the screen door.
    â€œWe don’t want to impose on you, Elizabeth,” she said. “My family never imposes. Are you sure you want to play with Aaron?”
    â€œAnd be responsible for him,” Mr. Herkimer said as he joined his wife. “Is that too heavy a responsibility perhaps, even for a serious girl like you?”
    â€œI’m light as a feather,” Aaron said.
    â€œI want to,” Elizabeth said in what was nearly a shout. At the moment, she found the Herkimers unbearable and wished only to get away from them.
    â€œFor God’s sake! What can happen to him on this stupid pile of rocks and gull guano?” Deirdre’s exasperated voice came from somewhere above. Elizabeth looked up and saw her sitting in the crotch of a small oak, a book in one hand.
    â€œDon’t speak so coarsely, Deirdre,” said Mrs. Herkimer. “Elizabeth will think we’re a low family.”
    Aaron suddenly leaped up and took off to the back of the house, and Elizabeth followed, hearing the Herkimers calling Aaron’s name reproachfully. There was a mocking falsetto echo of their voices from Deirdre.
    â€œHere’s a game,” Aaron said as she caught up with him beneath one of the white-barked trees. He stood with his arms circling the thin trunk. “In the cemetery, you can pretend to be an Egyptian mummy. I’ll dig you up—then you’ll tell me what it was like in those olden days.”
    He let go of the tree and raced on ahead of her.
    â€œI don’t know about mummies and Egypt,” Elizabeth cried after him. He paused and turned.
    â€œMake it up,” he ordered. “You just need a little bit of a thing to start a story. Pretty soon, there’s everything!”
    He jumped over a fallen branch and ran on. As she emerged from the woods, he streaked across the long meadow. When Elizabeth reached the little cemetery, he was reclining against a gravestone, chewing a stem of grass.
    â€œReady?” he asked.
    Elizabeth lay flat on the ground and crossed her arms over her chest. She shut her eyes against the blue glare of the cloudless sky.
    â€œI’m sure there’s a mummy here,” Aaron said loudly. “You assistants be careful as you dig! More to the left! There it is!”
    Suddenly, his breath was warm against her ear as he whispered, “Now you have to sit up. Begin to talk.”
    Elizabeth slowly raised herself from the waist.
    â€œLook, men! The mummy is alive,” he cried.
    Elizabeth stifled a laugh that was rising in her throat like a bubble in a bottle. She felt nervous, too, as though she had to speak a part in a play she hadn’t learned.
    â€œI am an old Egyptian,” she began in a deep voice. “I live by the Nile River. In the mornings, the crocodiles come up to sun themselves on the banks.”
    â€œWhat did you have for breakfast?” Aaron asked as he sat down on the ground in front of her.
    â€œCornflakes, burned toast, and blueberry jam.”
    â€œOh, Elizabeth!”
    â€œAll right … all right. I had coconuts and dates.”
    â€œGood! And after, did you play with all your friends, the other mummies?”
    â€œI played with all my friends,” Elizabeth intoned.
    â€œWhat?” he asked impatiently. “What did you play?”
    â€œChariots,” she said. “We have toy chariots and we race them and the crocodiles watch. Then we do our schoolwork on papyrus sheets. Then we have lunch.”
    â€œWhat’s papyrus?”
    â€œIt’s a kind of paper made from water plants.”
    He had been watching her intently, but now his gaze grew unfocused. She could see interest fading from his face like light dimming in a room. He looked down