Read Online Stuart Little by E. B. White, Garth Williams - Free Book Online Page A

never hear her
voice again. Which reminds me, it’s time I was on my way.” Stuart paid for his
drink, said good-by to the storekeeper, and drove off. But Ames’ Crossing
seemed like the finest town he had ever known, and before he reached the end of
the main street he swerved sharp left, turned off onto a dirt road, and drove
down to a quiet spot on the bank of the river. That afternoon he swam and lay
on his back on the mossy bank, his hands crossed under his head, his thoughts
returning to the conversation he had had with the storekeeper.
    “Harriet Ames,” he murmured.
    Evening came, and Stuart
still lingered by the stream.
    He ate a light supper of a
cheese sandwich and a drink of water, and slept that night in the warm grass
with the sound of the stream in his ears.
    In the morning the sun rose
warm and bright and Stuart slipped into the river again for an early dip. After
breakfast he left his car hidden under a skunk cabbage leaf and walked up to
the post office. While he was filling his fountain pen from the public inkwell
he happened to glance toward the door and what he saw startled him so that he
almost lost his balance and fell into the ink. A girl about two inches high had
entered and was crossing the floor toward the mail boxes. She wore sports
clothes and walked with her head held high. In her hair was a stamen from a
flower.
    Stuart began to tremble from
excitement.
    “Must be the Ames girl,” he
said to himself. And he kept out of sight behind the inkwell as he watched her
open her mail box, which was about a quarter of an inch wide, and pull out her letters.
The storekeeper had told the truth:
    Harriet was pretty. And of
course she was the only girl Stuart had ever encountered who wasn’t miles and
miles taller than he was. Stuart figured that if the two of them were to walk
along together, her head would come a little higher than his shoulder. The idea
filled him with interest. He wanted to slide down to the floor and speak to
her, but he didn’t dare. All his boldness had left him and he stayed hidden
behind the inkwell until Harriet had gone. When he was sure that she was out of
sight, he stole out of the post office and slunk down the street to the store,
half hoping that he would meet the beautiful little girl, half fearing that he would.
    “Have you any engraved
stationery?” he asked the storekeeper. “I’m behind on my correspondence.”
    The storekeeper helped
Stuart up onto the counter and found some letter paper for him—small paper,
marked with the initial L. Stuart whipped out his fountain pen and sat down
against a five-cent candy bar and began a letter to Harriet:
    “MY DEAR MISS AMES,” he wrote.
“I am a young person of modest proportions. By birth I am a New Yorker, but at
the moment I am traveling on business of a confidential nature. My travels have
brought me to your village. Yesterday the keeper of your local store, who has
an honest face and an open manner, gave me a most favorable report of your
character and appearance.”
    At this point in the letter
Stuart’s pen ran dry from the long words and Stuart had to get the storekeeper
to lower him head-first into a bottle of ink so that he could refill the pen.
Then he went back to letter writing. ...
    “Pray forgive me, Miss Ames,”
continued Stuart, “for presuming to strike up an acquaintance on so slender an
excuse as your physical similarity; but of course the fact is, as you yourself
must know, there are very few people who are only two inches in height. I say “two
inches”—actually I am somewhat taller than that. My only drawback is that I
look something like a mouse. I am nicely proportioned, however. Am also
muscular beyond my years. Let me be perfectly blunt: my purpose in writing this
brief note is to suggest that we meet. I realize that your parents may object to
the suddenness and directness of my proposal, as well as to my somewhat
mouselike appearance, so I think probably it might be a good idea if