Free The Penderwicks in Spring by Jeanne Birdsall Page A

her as she ran home. She was proud of them—
Light Cleaning (Dusting, etc.)
and
Light Lawn Work (Weeding)
—but knew they were only a weak beginning.
    “It’s going to be a neighborhood odd-jobs business,” she said, “and this is all I’ve got so far. I can’t do carpentry or plumbing. I’m not sure I even know how to weed. But I can’t have an entire business based on dusting.”
    “Nick and Tommy used to cut lawns,” said Ben. “When Nick comes home, he could teach you how.”
    “There’s no point, since I’m too young to use the lawn mower.” The family rule was that you had to be twelve. Less chance of losing toes that way.
    “Well, then, maybe when Tommy’s home for the summer, you could follow along behind him and pick up the grass he’s cut.” Ben pictured bonding with Tommy over hard labor, having long discussions about basketball and Nick. He could do it if Batty didn’t want to.
    “Tommy doesn’t even talk to us anymore, Ben. Not since he and Rosalind split up.”
    “Skye figures they’ll get back together.”
    “I hope so.” The whole family hoped so, except perhaps Rosalind. No one knew what she hoped. “But still, I need jobs that don’t involve Geigers.”
    “You could dig up rocks,” he said, then graciously added, “I could show you how.”
    “No one pays to have their rocks dug up.”
    “Batty, you said you wanted my ideas, so write down ‘Digging Up Rocks.’ And if anyone wants it done, I’ll do it.”
    “But this is
my
business!”
    “Write it down. Please.”
    Without enthusiasm, Batty wrote
Digging Up Rocks.
    Encouraged by his success, Ben had another idea. “How about home security? I can watch Gardam Street out my window with those binoculars Skye gave me. They have night vision and everything.”
    “You’re asleep at night. And what about when you’re at school? Robbers can come during the day.”
    “Write it down anyway.”
    “No.” Digging up rocks was silly enough.
    Ben scowled at his rocks, thinking. “You could teach piano.”
    “I already rejected that. Anyone who would pay a fifth grader to teach them would be awful, and awful music hurts my brain. I thought of babysitting, but what if the Yees asked?”
    Batty and Ben both shivered at the idea of babysitting for the rambunctious Yee children, who lived on the cul-de-sac.
    “How about pet-sitting?” Ben suggested. “The DiGintas have fish.”
    Batty was pretty sure fish were even harder to keep alive than dogs. Keiko had kept fish for a while, including one she’d named Ryan, after that movie starshe liked, but one of the other fish ate Ryan, then died itself, and Keiko had cried for a whole day.
    “No pet-sitting,” said Batty.
    “Washing windows?” Once last summer Ben had helped his mother wash the windows with the hose, and he hadn’t forgotten how much fun it had been to get wet and soapy.
    “I guess so.” Batty wrote down
Washing Windows.
“As long as they’re on the first floor, because we’re probably not allowed to climb high ladders.”
    They struggled on, but after another half hour had added only
Companionship
and
Taking Out Trash.
It was a decent first step, though, and Batty hoped that neighbors would come up with their own ideas for chores she could manage. But now she had to figure out how to tell her parents about PWTW. Since she’d run back from Quigley Woods, she’d focused only on how to make money. She hadn’t taken even a moment to wonder whether her parents would approve.
    “How do I get Dad and Mom to let me do this?” she asked Ben.
    “I don’t know.” His requests to their parents were usually less complicated, like asking if Rafael could spend the night.
    “I should ask them one at a time. Divide and conquer, like Dad says, except he says it in Latin. Who do I ask first?”
    Another long discussion ensued, during which they analyzed each parent’s soft spots, but in the endthey could agree only to toss a coin. Batty went back into the kitchen to