Free Stuart Little by E. B. White, Garth Williams Page A

of
you to ask me,” replied Harriet. She was wearing a white sweater, a tweed
skirt, short white wool socks, and sneakers. Her hair was tied with a bright colored
handkerchief, and Stuart noticed that she carried a box of peppermints in her
hand.
    “Not at all, glad to do it,”
said Stuart. “I only wish we had better weather. Looks rather sticky, don’t
you think?” Stuart was trying to make his voice sound as though he had an English
accent.
    Harriet looked at the sky
and nodded. “Oh, well,” she said, “if it rains, it rains.”
    “Sure,” repeated Stuart, “if
it rains, it rains. My canoe is a short distance up the shore. May I help you
over the rough places in the path?” Stuart was a courteous mouse by nature, but
Harriet said she didn’t need any help. She was an active girl and not at all
inclined to stumble or fall. Stuart led the way to where he had hidden the
canoe, and Harriet followed, but when they reached the spot Stuart was horrified
to discover that the canoe was not there. It had disappeared.
    Stuart’s heart sank. He felt
like crying.
    “The canoe is gone,” he
groaned.
    Then he began racing wildly
up and down the bank, looking everywhere. Harriet joined in the search, and
after a while they found the canoe—but it was a mess. Some one had been playing
with it. A long piece of heavy string was tied to one end. The ballast rocks
were gone. The pillow was gone. The back rest was gone. The spruce gum had come
out of the seam. Mud was all over everything, and one of the paddles was all
bent and twisted. It was just a mess. It looked just the way a birchbark canoe looks
after some big boys are finished playing with it.
    Stuart was heartbroken. He
did not know what to do. He sat down on a twig and buried his head in his
hands. “Oh, gee,” he kept saying, “oh, gee whiz.”
    “What’s the trouble?” asked
Harriet.
    “Miss Ames,” said Stuart in
a trembling
    voice, “I assure you I had
everything beautifully arranged—everything. And now look!”
    Harriet was for fixing the
canoe up and going out on the river anyway, but Stuart couldn’t stand that idea.
    “It’s no use,” he said
bitterly, “it wouldn’t be the same.”
    “The same as what?” asked
Harriet.
    “The same as the way it was
going to be, when I was thinking about it yesterday. I’m afraid a woman can’t
understand these things. Look at that string!It’s tied on so tight I could
never get it off.”
    “Well,” suggested Harriet, “couldn’t
we just let it hang over in the water and trail along after us?”
    Stuart looked at her in
despair. “Did you ever see an Indian paddling along some quiet unspoiled river
with a great big piece of rope dragging astern?” he asked.
    “We could pretend we were
fishing,” said Harriet, who didn’t realize that some people are fussy about
boats.
    “I don’t want to pretend I’m
fishing,” cried Stuart, desperately. “Besides, look at that mud! Look at it!”
He was screaming now.
    Harriet sat down on the twig
beside Stuart. She offered him a peppermint but he shook his head.
    “Well,” she said, “it’s
starting to rain, and I guess I’d better be running along if you are not going
to take me paddling in your canoe. I don’t see why you have to sit here and
sulk. Would you like to come up to my house? After dinner you could take me to
the dance at the Country Club. It might cheer you up.”
    “No, thank you,” replied
Stuart. “I don’t know how to dance. Besides, I plan to make an early start in
the morning. I’ll probably be on the road at daybreak.”
    “Are you going to sleep out
in all this rain?” asked Harriet.
    “Certainly,” said Stuart. “I’ll
crawl in under the canoe.”
    Harriet shrugged her
shoulders. “Well,” she said, “good-by, Mr. Little.”
    “Good-by, Miss Ames,” said
Stuart. “I am sorry our evening on the river had to end like this.”
    “So am I,” said Harriet. And
she walked away along the wet path toward Tracy’s