Read Online The Velvet Room by Zilpha Keatley Snyder - Free Book Online

through it in the dark. And if she went home for a candle, she would not be able to come back until tomorrow. How could she wait that long?

Gwen and Robin

    I T WAS TERRIBLY HARD to have to close the tunnel door, climb back up the ladder, and shut and lock the well covering. But her disappointment was almost greater the next morning. At breakfast Dad said, “Robin, when you go to Bridget’s this morning, I want you back in ten minutes. I’m riding into town with Mr. Criley today to pick up some equipment, and I want you to come along so we can get your work permit. Now that you’re twelve, you’re eligible for one. Pitting season will be starting in a week or two, and Mr. Criley wants every family in the Village to put as many hands in the shed as possible.”
    “Oh, Dad!” Robin had nothing against having a work permit, but today of all days to have to go into town! “Why do I have to have one? I’ve worked without one before.”
    Dad frowned. “Only because it was necessary,” he said. “It isn’t now.” Robin could tell there was no use arguing, and really, she knew that Dad was right. She had hated having to hide or pretend she wasn’t working if an inspector came around. But Palmeras House and the secret tunnel! It was just too much of a disappointment.
    And because she was so disappointed, everything seemed to go wrong. Robin’s own shoes were too ragged to wear, so she had to wear a pair of Theda’s that were much too big. It was a terribly hot morning, and it was going to be stifling in the cab. of the truck. There seemed to be all sorts of things to be angry about as Dad and Robin walked up the road to the mule barns where they were to meet Mr. Criley.
    Hot choky dust swirled up from Dad’s high-topped work shoes and Robin’s dragging feet. Dad coughed, and Robin looked up quickly. The skin of Dad’s face looked thin and tight, and a sharp stab of worry made Robin angrier than ever. Not at Dad — not really — but at the aching fear that so often hit her when she was thinking about Dad. Robin glanced around her, but of course there wasn’t a chance of wandering off right then. So she pushed the thought aside and went back to being angry at Mr. Criley.
    “I don’t see why Mr. Criley should care how many people from the Village work in his old pitting shed,” she said sulkily. “He can always get more temporary people than he can use just by going down to the labor office. I mean people like we used to be, before you got this job.”
    Dad’s smile looked tired. “Well, Robin, the way I figure it is that if a man’s family didn’t work, they’d have to pay the man himself enough to keep his family going. But Mr. Criley has another reason. He says the fewer fruit tramps he has hanging around the ranch, the happier he is.
    It was a relief to have something more definite to feel mad at. “That’s a pretty mean thing to say,” Robin said indignantly. “I knew that Mr. Criley was a mean man the first time I saw him.”
    Dad laughed and put his hand on Robin’s shoulder. “Simmer down, Robin,” he said. “Let’s just say Mr. Criley’s a pretty forgetful man. From what I’ve heard, the Crileys were doing a bit of tramping around looking for work themselves not so many years ago.” They both laughed, and Robin felt better.
    The ride into town in the cab of the truck might have been fun if it hadn’t been quite so hot and if Mr. Criley hadn’t talked so much. All the way in he explained loudly what an important man he was and how necessary he was to everything that went on at Las Palmeras, or the McCurdy Rancho, as he called it. Dad caught Robin’s eye and smiled now and then.
    The stop at the city hall to get the work permit didn’t take long. The library was nearby, and Dad pointed it out, reminding Robin that now that they had a permanent address she would be able to have a card again. That is, soon as the Model T was fixed, so they could get into town regularly. Just looking at