“But I can’t tell you, because I’m not doing it,” I said. “Look, Dippy. I’ll stand way over here and you listen there.”
The Screaming Woman screamed again.
“Hey!” said Dippy. “There really is a woman here!”
“That’s what I tried to say.”
“Let’s dig!” said Dippy.
We dug for twenty minutes.
“I wonder who she is?”
“I don’t know.”
“I wonder if it’s Mrs. Nelson or Mrs. Turner or Mrs. Bradley. I wonder if she’s pretty. Wonder what color her hair is? Wonder if she’s thirty or ninety or sixty?”
“Dig!” I said.
The mound grew high.
“Wonder if she’ll reward us for digging her up.”
“Sure.”
“A quarter, do you think?”
“More than that. I bet it’s a dollar.”
Dippy remembered as he dug. “I read a book once of magic. There was a Hindu with no clothes on who crept down in a grave and slept there sixty days, not eating anything, no malts, no chewing gum or candy, no air, for sixty days.” His face fell. “Say, wouldn’t it be awful if it was only a radio buried here and us working so hard?”
“A radio’s nice, it’d be all ours.”
Just then a shadow fell across us.
“Hey, you kids, what you think you’re doing?”
We turned. It was Mr. Kelly, the man who owned the empty lot. “Oh, hello, Mr. Kelly,” we said.
“Tell you what I want you to do,” said Mr. Kelly. “I want you to take those shovels and take that soil and shovel it right back in that hole you been digging. That’s what I want you to do.”
My heart started beating fast again. I wanted to scream myself.
“But Mr. Kelly, there’s a Screaming Woman and...”
“I’m not interested. I don’t hear a thing.”
“Listen!” I cried.
The scream.
Mr. Kelly listened and shook his head. “Don’t hear nothing. Go on now, fill it up and get home with you before I give you my foot!”
We filled the hole all back in again. And all the while we filled it in, Mr. Kelly stood there, arms folded, and the woman screamed, but Mr. Kelly pretended not to hear it.
When we were finished, Mr. Kelly stomped off, saying, “Go on home now. And if I catch you here again...”
I turned to Dippy. “He’s the one,” I whispered.