Free Celia's House by D. E. Stevenson Page A

born here. My name’s Johnson.”
    â€œIt’s a very nice name,” Mark said politely.
    Johnson picked an apple off a tree and offered it to Mark.
    â€œThank you,” Mark said, taking it and looking at it. The apple was small, but it was very pretty—yellow and brown and red.
    â€œAre you not going to eat it?” Johnson inquired.
    â€œMummy peels them,” explained Mark.
    â€œYou don’t want it peeled. Bite it. That’s what your teeth are for.”
    Mark bit a small piece off the apple. It was sweet and juicy. “It’s very nice,” he said. “Mummy will pay you for it.”
    â€œThat’s good!” declared Johnson, laughing heartily. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard for a long time.” He took out a huge red handkerchief and blew his nose violently.
    â€œDon’t you want to be paid?” Mark asked uncertainly.
    â€œIt’s your own apple,” replied Johnson.
    â€œMy apple?”
    â€œWell, your father’s apple then. This is your father’s garden, Master Mark.”
    â€œAll of it?” Mark asked, looking around in amazement.
    â€œEvery bit.”
    Mark said nothing. He could find nothing to say.
    â€œHave you been down to the river?” Johnson asked.
    â€œIs it near here?”
    â€œCan you not hear it?”
    â€œI thought that was the sea,” explained Mark. “I’m more used to the sea…”
    â€œCome, and I’ll show you the river,” said Johnson.
    Mark took Johnson’s hand—it was terrifically hard and calloused, but there was a nice friendly feeling in it all the same—and they went across the garden and out of another door in the wall. The noise of the rushing water was much louder here; it grew and grew, and a moment later they were standing on a bank with rocks all around and looking down at a small waterfall.
    â€œWhat do you think of that?” Johnson inquired.
    Mark did not know what to think of it. He had never seen anything like it before. The noise of the falling water was so loud and the sun shining on the spray was so dazzling that Mark felt glad he had hold of Johnson’s hand.
    â€œThere’s nothing to be frightened of,” Johnson said.
    â€œNo,” Mark agreed in a doubtful tone.
    They stood and watched it for a few moments.
    â€œIs that where the fish lives?” Mark asked after a little while, raising his voice to be heard above the roar.
    â€œWhat fish?”
    â€œThe fish that Daddy and I are going to catch—is that where it lives?”
    â€œI shouldn’t wonder,” said Johnson.
    â€¢ • •
    Mark was in bed. (He was very tired after his first day at Dunnian. There had been so much to do and see.) He had said his prayers and Nannie was just going to turn out the lamp when Daddy looked in.
    â€œHere’s Daddy!” Nannie exclaimed. “Now you’ll be a happy boy!”
    Mark was quite happy already, but he was delighted to see Daddy. He put his arms around Daddy’s neck and kissed him.
    â€œHad a good day?” asked Daddy.
    Mark nodded. Of course he had: this was Dunnian.
    â€œYou’ve made a lot of new friends,” said Daddy.
    Mark nodded again. “Who is the lady?” he asked.
    â€œWhat lady? Do you mean Cousin Henrietta?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œBecky then?”
    â€œNo,” Mark said, shaking his head vigorously.
    â€œWho do you mean?”
    â€œShe’s nice,” said Mark. “She’s old, but she’s very nice.”
    â€œDid she speak to you?”
    â€œNo,” said Mark.
    â€œI don’t know who it could be,” Daddy said, wrinkling his forehead.
    â€œHe’s been talking about her all the time he was having his supper,” Nannie declared. “He said he met her on the stairs—”
    â€œA lady,” Mark repeated, nodding.
    â€œWhat was she like?”
    Mark could not answer this. He knew