When they had passed the last of the houses, Alex began to feel uneasy once again. Harry Lightcap strode contentedly along, puffing his pipe and enjoying the cool evening air. While his presence made her feel safe, she could not help remembering her earlier feelings, especially when they passed the path the mystery man had used to turn off into the woods.
She thought she was hiding her feelings well when Harry Lightcap said, "Alexandra, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Surprised, she first answered "nothing's wrong." After a moment, she said, "Today, Clara Clemens mentioned seeing a suspicious man in a dark suit hanging around their house. When I was walking back from there, I saw a man walking along the road, also wearing a dark suit, who disappeared into the woods."
"Did he do anything, or say anything to you?" Harry asked.
"No, he didn't do anything at all, except walk along the street in front of me, then turn off." She pointed out the path she'd seen him take.
"What made you frightened?" he asked.
"Nothing, exactly. It was just something in his manner that seemed kind of sneaky. If Clara hadn't mentioned her suspicions, I probably wouldn't have thought anything about him."
Harry Lightcap agreed, but kept a watch on the woods as they walked. After a bit Alex asked, "Do you know Mr. Strong very well?"
"No," Harry answered. "He moved into Mrs. Bloomfield's about a week ago, but he mostly stays to himself. Doesn't have much to say. I think he's from Maine. Most of them are that way."
"I know it's not fair to judge him this way, but he makes me very uncomfortable," Alex said.
They made the turn onto Farmington Avenue, and in a few minutes were in front of the Clemens house. "Are you sure you're okay, then?" Harry Lightcap asked.
"I'm sure. Thank you for walking with me," she answered. "I'll see you tomorrow."
He waited until she was at the front door. When she knocked and the door began to open, he called "Good night, lass" and hurried on his way.
"Hi, Alexandra. Come in," Susy said from the doorway. "Papa's home. We want you to meet him."
Susy led her through the main hallway into the library. Alexandra caught her breath as she saw Mr. Clemens - the famous Mark Twain - with his back to her, talking with Jean and Clara. As she entered, he turned and smiled at her. "You must be Alexandra," he said in his slow Southern drawl. "The girls told me all about you."
She was taken aback for a moment, but managed to say "I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Clemens." Alex was surprised that he was younger-looking than most of the pictures of him she had seen. If she recalled correctly, he was just about fifty years old now. His hair was still mostly brown. He had twinkly gray- green eyes. He was fair complected, with a large 'Roman' nose. He was dressed in a light-colored linen suit, with a floppy ribbon-type bow tie. He looked very much like the small statue in her uncle's library, except that he wasn't holding a cigar. Alex thought that he was only allowed to smoke it upstairs in the billiard room.
"Why, I'm surely pleased to meet you too, my dear," he said. "Come in and sit down. Jean was just telling me everything that happened while I was gone. Fortunately, it's only been three days, so the story should be somewhat shorter than three days."
Alex sat on a flowered sofa, a little away from the girls and their father, content to listen to their talk. Jean chattered away, but Alex found it impossible to concentrate on what she was saying. She was still trying to believe she was actually here, a few feet away from Mark Twain!
While Jean talked, Alex admired the library. It was just wonderful. To her left was the fireplace, which looked like it belonged in a medieval castle. It was full of deep wood carvings, and it looked like a cuckoo should jump out of it every fifteen minutes. On both sides, packed bookcases extended. Along the top of the fireplace, on a brass plate, were inscribed the words "The ornament of a house is the friends that frequent it." Alex thought that was a very nice sentiment, though she wasn't sure the grammar sounded quite right.
Past the fireplace was the conservatory, full of large tropical plants and a small fountain, above which hung large paper Japanese lanterns.
The rest of the walls in the room were covered halfway up with bookcases full of books, and beautiful vases of all sizes and colors on top of the bookcases. The walls were papered in a restful green with diamond-patterns of gold. A large brass chandelier with eight large white globes, centered over an ornate wooden table, were in the middle of the room.
"Tell us about yourself, Alexandra." It took her a moment to realize that Mr. Clemens was addressing her.
"There's really not very much to tell. I'm fourteen, I go to school, I'm in the eighth grade. I live with my parents near Philadelphia. I like reading, writing, and outdoor things."
One of the many cats jumped onto his lap, and he slowly began petting it, from its head way back to its tail. "What kinds of books do you like to read?" he asked.
Alex knew that Mr. Clemens (like most people, but more so) was very open to flattery, so she did not miss her chance. "My favorites are Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn," she said. "Your girls gave me a copy of The Prince and the Pauper and I can't wait to read it."
He nodded, obviously pleased. "I originally wrote those as boys books, you know, but they seem to appeal to girls too."
"Well, I think they appeal to everyone, not just kids," Alex said.
"She's right, Papa," Susy said. "Girls love those books too."
"What are you doing so far from home, Alexandra?" Mr. Clemens asked.
"I'm travelling with my father on business. He's visiting the offices of some of the insurance companies," she answered.
"Travelling with your father can be a real trial," he said. "I try to take my family on short business trips, but the meetings always go longer than planned, or I've got to meet extra people, or someone's late for a meeting. They usually end up waiting for me in a hotel room."
"Yes, all those things have happened to me. Many times," Alex answered.
"I think Bay and Modoc have both decided to avoid these trips whenever they can," he replied.
In answer to Alex's quizzical look, Susy said, "I'm 'Modoc', because Papa used to tell me I was really one of the Modoc Indians. And Clara used to be called 'Baby' but she pronounced it 'Bay'. Papa still calls us those names, sometimes, usually in front of our friends, but we're trying to break him of the habit."
Mr. Clemens laughed. "I promise to try harder." Then, turning to Alex he said "I'm happy you could stay with Clara and Jean and Olivia Susan tonight," he said, saying the names very carefully. "I've got some business to discuss with Mrs. Clemens, but I'll see you a little later." With that, he went up the stairs, and left the girls alone in the living room.
"Now you've met our famous Papa," Clara said.
"He's really nice," Alex said. "And very handsome. I could listen to him talk all night."
"A lot of people do, and they pay him for it," Susy laughed, referring to his lectures which were very popular, and always sold out.
"Let's go upstairs," Jean said. They went up to Clara and Jean's room, and they all lay on the big double bed. They spoke of many things: school, boys, books, plans for the future. Alex had to constantly be careful with her answers and comments, to be sure not to give anything away. And she felt terrible when Susy spoke of her future plans, since Alex knew that Susy's future might not go beyond the next day or two.
Jean wanted to be a mother and an animal doctor when she grew up. Clara wanted to be a teacher, and Susy wanted to be a writer. Alex, too, hoped to be a writer someday, so she and Susy had dreams to compare.
Alex was also beginning to learn of the differences in this older lifestyle, without all the noise and distractions of her own day. There was no television and no radio. People actually spoke to one another and read and discussed books. In a few hours, she knew the Clemens girls better than she knew many of her classmates.
Finally, as it grew late, Mr. and Mrs. Clemens came into the girls' room. In response to the girls' pleas, including Alex, Mr. Clemens read them a chapter from Huckleberry Finn, describing the raft trip down the Mississippi. The dialog came to life as Mr. Clemens read it in his slow drawl. The characters came from the same background as Mr. Clemens did, so he made their talk seem totally natural. Alex almost found herself floating down the river. It was a wondrous experience for her, and she envied the girls being able to enjoy this almost every day.
When he stopped they all applauded, and Jean hugged her father. "That was wonderful," she said, and everyone agreed.
"Papa," Clara said, "we bought a new song while you were gone. It's very beautiful, and we've been practising it to sing to you. Can we do it now?"
"Yes Papa, pleeeeease!" Jean pleaded.
When he agreed, the Clemens girls gathered around the piano. Susy sat down to play, while Clara turned the pages. The sheet music was titled "The Baggage Car Ahead." While the melody was pretty and the girls sang sweetly, the words shocked Alex. They told the story of a young father and his child riding on a train. The youngster was crying and annoying the other passengers, who were becoming angry. When they protested, the father told them that his child was crying because his mother had just died, and she was being taken home in a coffin, which was in the baggage car up ahead. Alex looked at the others, and realized that everyone's eyes were glistening. She was reminded once again about how sentimental people were in these times, so much differrent from her own time.
Mrs. Clemens said, "You girls must be quite tired by now. Time for bed. Let's not have Alexandra think we stay up all night, reading and chattering. Come, Youth," she said, addressing Mr. Clemens.
They all said their 'good-nights', and Mr. and Mrs. Clemens kissed all four girls and left the room.
"Did your Mother call your father 'Youth'?" Alex asked.
"Yes," Clara answered. "She always calls him that, even though he isn't one anymore. I don't really know why, but I think it's nice."
"I think it's because his mind is still young and youthful," Susy said. "His mind really is different from everyone else's."
"Tell Alexandra about the driveway," Clara said.
"That's a really strange story," Susy began. "In our coach, the door is on the left. When Patrick, our coachman, comes into our driveway from Farmington Avenue, our house is on the right, so he usually passes our front door. Then he goes around the circle in our driveway, then returns to the front door with the house on our left, so we can get out on the left side of the coach and be near the front door. One day, Papa was riding alone with Patrick. For some reason, he decided that the house would come out on a different side of the coach, depending on which way Patrick went around the circle. Patrick drove around the normal way, counter-clockwise, and the house ended up on the left. Then Papa made him go out onto Farmington Avenue and come back in. This time Patrick had to go around the circle clockwise, but the house still ended up on the left. Papa made him repeat both directions again, but the house always ended up on the left. Finally, he accused Patrick of trying to trick him, then stomped off into the house." They all laughed heartily at the story.
Clara and Jean began to get ready for bed, and Susy showed Alex to the guest bedroom. They both sat on the bed, and Susy looked like she had something on her mind. Finally she asked, "What do you think about that stranger that Clara thinks is watching us?"
"I don't know," Alex answered. "There doesn't seem to be any real evidence. Have you seen him?"
"Yes, I have," Susy said. "But I haven't seen anything more solid than Clara has. He doesn't do anything, except that he seems curious about us."
Alex told Susy about her encounter, which wasn't really an encounter, either. But Alex knew that Susy's life was in danger, though she didn't have any real reason to suspect that her death would be caused by someone. Chances are, the stranger, who had done absolutely nothing, would not be involved in any way.
They discussed their dreams to be writers. Alex asked Susy what she had written, and Susy told her more about the biography she was writing about her father. "I especially like the way he tries to do some things just so I'll put it in the book. He's always trying to say something clever and memorable. And usually he is," she said proudly.
"Have you been to many of his lectures?" Alex asked.
"Yes, quite a few. But when he's on a tour, he usually gives the same lecture with only a few changes, so if I'm with him, I'll listen the first night, then skip the others."
Then Susy made a confession, something she said she hadn't told anyone else, not even Clara or Mama: "Even though I'd like to be a writer, what I really want to be, more than anything else, is an opera singer."
"Why is that such a secret?" Alex asked.
"Because of Papa. He'd be really disappointed in me. His dream is for me to be a writer, and he's always telling everyone how good I am. I don't think I'm much better than anyone else my age. I love singing more than anything else."
"Where I come from," Alex said, "everyone can try to be whatever they want to be."
"Girls, too?" Susy asked.
Alex was surprised by the question at first, but then realized that, in this age, girls had very special roles. They could be housewives and mothers (as most of them were), or hold a limited set of jobs: secretary, clerk, nurse, teacher, or housekeeper. They could also work in factories, but it was "women's work," like sewing. Girls' attitudes were different, too. Most women did not rebel against their limitations, but accepted them. In Alex's time, the limitations were nearly gone. But not totally gone, of course. Alex had always been told, by family, teachers, anyone she respected, that she could be anything she wanted, and it would be her own decision. But she also knew that Susy was a Victorian girl, and the best that Alex could do was try to encourage her to go after her own desires. But she could sense that her attitudes were those of her times.
After a minute or so of friendly silence Alex said, "Susy, something else seems to be bothering you. Is it the mystery man?"
"No, it's more than that," Susy said. "For the last two or three days I've had the feeling that something's about to happen. Something bad. And I have no idea what it might be."
"A lot of people believe in feelings like that," Alex said. "Sometimes they're right. Perhaps you should be more careful than usual for the next few days. Just to be on the safe side, especially with that stranger hanging around."
After talking for a while longer, Susy said, "it's really getting late, so I'd better leave you. I'm really glad you're here, and I'm really glad you're our new friend." She gave Alex a quick kiss on the cheek, and went to her own room.
Alex climbed into bed, and tried to think over the day's events. Her biggest concern was whether there was anything else she could say to Susy to try to warn her. She tried to think about the pure wonder of her being here, but she could think of nothing but Susy's coming death. She cried herself to sleep.