all in my bedroom on the walls, but there is one she
never got to finish. It's in my closet. Have you ever
done needlework?"
"No," I said, sulking.
"Oh you should try needlework, dear. I bet you
would be good at it, too."
"I don't think so," I said. "Is there anything else
I can help you with, Aunt Sara?"
"What? Oh. No dear, thank you," she said.
"That's right. You have t
o do homework now, don't
you?"
"Yes," I said.
"Then go on, dear. I'll see you before I go to
sleep," she said.
I hurried upstairs. When I ascended the
stairway, I noticed a ladder had been lowered from the
roof above the second floor landing. It led up to a
door in the ceiling. I approached slowly and gazed up
at the lighted attic. Curious, I started up the rungs and
stopped at the top to peer into the room. Two oil
lamps illuminated a table and a chair, chests, boxes,
all sorts of antiques and old paintings. But the most interesting thing to me were the model boats constructed of balsa wood. One was partially completed on the table. The others were lined up on shelves, all painted, too, and some with tiny sailors
manning the sails.
There was a very worn--looking couch on the
right and a telescope pointing at the sole window. "What are you doing?" I turned to see Cary
staring up at me from the bottom of the ladder. "I was just wondering what was up here. Do
you do the boats?"
"First, they're not boats, they're ships. And
second, the attic is a private place, if you don't mind." "I'm sorry." I started down the rungs, but