Free Mystery of Drear House by Virginia Hamilton Page A

Pesty’s coats from the backs of chairs in the kitchen. He stuffed a flashlight in his jacket pocket. Then he got the pie. He didn’t know what kind it was; it was wrapped in foil in the refrigerator. It was probably apple. He hurried to the hall, placed the pie carefully on the floor, and laid their coats next to it. Then he got Great-grandmother’s things from the closet. The shawl, too. Oh man! It’s taking me too long!
    But he hurried. Careful to hold the pie with both hands. He had his own coat and hat on now. He had Pesty’s coat draped over his head and down his back. He had Great-grandmother’s things and her shawl over one arm. He did not know whether what they were about to do was safe or sane. Another secret opening into the house right upstairs! he was thinking. A crazy woman? She is Pesty’s mama. Mrs. Darrow. Wonder what is her first name? You could ask.
    When he returned, he stopped still just in the doorway to the bedroom. He pulled the pie rim in tightly against him. The flashlight weighted him down on one side. Mrs. Darrow had stepped down from the fireplace hearth. She stood over Great-grandmother Jeffers. She had hold of her own long hair in one hand and Great-grandmother’s in the other. She was pulling Great-grandmother’s hair as she pulled her own. She looked like a giant bully bothering tiny Great-grandmother Jeffers.
    “Mr. Thomas, don’t say nothing,” Pesty said, before he could think to say anything. “Don’t make to interfere.”
    “But look!” Thomas said, coming in very slowly. He spoke as calmly as he could. “She is hurting my great-grandmother.” He calculated how fast he could get to Great-grandmother’s side and how much he could do for her once he was there.
    “She’s not hurting me, Thomas,” Great-grandmother said, “not really.” She reached up, hoping to loosen Mrs. Darrow’s grip on her hair. But she couldn’t.
    “Mama don’t realize how strong she is,” Pesty said. “I think she means to shake your hand, Mother Jeffers, but she got it wrong—see? She shaking your hair.”
    Pesty pried her mother’s hands loose. “She’s my mama when she goes off her mind,” she said, “but she comes back like a child. Sorry, Great Mother.”
    “It’s all right,” Great-grandmother said, “I’m not hurt.”
    “Once Mama is up out of bed, she has to learn most things all over again,” Pesty explained.
    “Think of that!” Great-grandmother whispered.
    “Why is that?” Thomas asked. Slowly he moved up to them. He put the pie down on the lamp table and reached over to give Pesty Great-grandmother’s shawl. Pesty took it and flung it up around her mama’s shoulders.
    “She says she don’t remember much after,” Pesty said. “Then we give her her pills. They help her get better, but they make it hard for her to remember, too.”
    “But does this …” Thomas began. He was going to ask, Does it go on forever? Didn’t her mama ever get better? But he never got the chance.
    With no warning Mrs. Darrow swung around toward him. That unheard-of nervous motion seemed to hit him between the eyes. She lunged for the pie, knocking Thomas aside. He fell on the floor hard.
    Thomas sat there, stunned, watching Mrs. Darrow. A dull ache began along his hip, where he’d hit.
    Mrs. Darrow lifted the pie up to her nose. She tore at the foil covering and threw it aside. There was the pie; it was apple. He wouldn’t have dreamed the pie would get eaten the way he saw her eating it. With one hand Mrs. Darrow commenced to scoop the pie.
    Thomas suddenly was angry. “She pushed me down!” he said. Fury mixed with the bruising fall.
    “Mama didn’t mean to, Mr. Thomas. You just got in the way,” Pesty said back.
    “She hit into me; she shoved me and knocked me down ,” he said.
    “No, you got in her way! You did, you got in her way !” Pesty’s voice shook. Trembling, she covered her face with her hands.
    Mrs. Darrow finished about half the pie. Her mouth and