Read Online The Four-Story Mistake by Elizabeth Enright - Free Book Online Page B

bed.
    An instant later she came out of the room and hurried upstairs to the Office. Then to the cupola; and down again.
    â€œRandy!” called Cuffy from the landing. “Mona! Rush isn’t here! The rapscallion’s gone off somewheres and left his pillow in the bed. One of you go down cellar and see if he’s there! One of you go out and get Willy. Hurry!”
    â€œI’ll go,” cried Randy, and rushed for the door.
    â€œPut on your raincoat,” ordered Cuffy, even in the midst of her distraction, “and take your shoes off the minute you get back. It’s pouring! Now where in time did I put the flashlight?”
    But Randy didn’t wait. Grabbing her slicker she rushed out. The wind almost took her off her feet; the cold rain was blown against her. She ran to the stable, leaping over fallen branches and splashing through puddles. The stable door was closed and she almost broke her back getting it open. Recklessly she made her way to the narrow stairs and bumped her shin hard against the first step, but hardly even felt it, she was so frightened. A crack of light was shining under Willy’s door, and his radio was going full blast: dance music loud enough to burst an eardrum!
    â€œWilly, Willy!” shouted Randy, banging her fists against the door.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” cried Willy, throwing it open. “House on fire? Someone sick? What’s the matter?”
    â€œIt’s Rush!” gasped Randy. “We can’t find him.”
    Willy waited for nothing. Still wearing his old fleece-lined slippers and holding a copy of Popular Mechanics in one hand, he raced down the stairs beside Randy. Behind them dance music still poured lavishly out of the radio.
    â€œHe’s not in the house nowheres?”
    â€œWe couldn’t find him. We don’t know where he is!” Randy was almost in tears. “He’s got a temperature, too.”
    â€œI bet I know!” cried Willy, with a flash of inspiration. “You go on back to the house now. Go on, do like I say. Go get your feet dry. I’ve got my pocket flashlight with me.”
    A few minutes later Rush thought he heard someone calling his name. He paid no attention. Probably just fever again, he thought to himself. Or maybe it’s the angel Gabriel. But then he heard the sound of something scraping against the tree, and saw a light shining vertically through the rain. He tottered to his feet and looked over the railing right into the ascending face of Willy Sloper.
    â€œYou look even better than the angel Gabriel to me,” croaked Rush thankfully; and Willy reached out a wiry arm, helped him over the railing, half carried him down the ladder, and really did carry him all the way through the woods to the house. Willy was a swell guy. He never fussed around with whys and hows. He just carried Rush home and kept saying, “It’s all right now. You’re okay now. We’ll have you back in your bed in a jiffy.”
    And in a jiffy Rush was back in bed, wearing dry pajamas, and feeling as if he had died and gone to a warm, dry heaven. The storm had put the lights out again, of course, but there was a kerosene lamp purring on the table beside him. Nobody scolded him, not even Cuffy. They seemed to take it for granted that he had been punished enough, as indeed he had.
    â€œAre you frozen anyplace?” asked Mona eagerly. “I know exactly what to do for frostbite!”
    â€œSorry to disappoint you,” Rush replied through the pleasant ringing in his ears, “but I’m not frozen anyplace. I feel swell.”
    Mona draped a shawl across his shoulders, Randy brought him a hot-water bottle, and Willy heaped wood on the fire. Cuffy came up with a trayful of hot things to eat: hot soup, hot Ovaltine, hot milk toast.
    â€œI feel like a very rich old lady,” Rush remarked appreciatively. “My only regret is that in real life I’ll never get to be a