kneeling hassocks were of frayed chenille. Morning sunlight poured through the few well-preserved stained-glass
windows, capturing myriad dust motes in slow swirls. Ben sat with his two friends whilst Reverend Mandel, a severe
grey-haired man, delivered a sermon on the merits of charity to one's fellow creatures. Ben felt as if someone was
watching him. He turned his head and took a quick glance at the pews behind. There was Wilf Smithers, with his
mother and the girl from London. Obadiah Smithers was not given to attending church on Sunday, or any other day
for that matter. Ben smiled at Wilf. Surprisingly, Wilf smiled back.
When service was over, Mrs. Winn stopped to drop a coin in the box for the new bell fund. Wilf came up
behind Ben and jammed a scrap of paper into Ben's pocket.
"Bet you won't be there!" he muttered in Ben's ear and moved away to join his mother and Maud Bowe at the
lych-gate outside, where a pony and cart were waiting to take them home.
Walking back downhill, Mr. Somers kindly assisted Mrs.
Winn, offering her his arm. Ben walked ahead with his two friends, who saw him take the paper from his pocket
and read what had been written on it. He laughed.
"Wilf slipped me this outside the church. Listen." Ben read out the badly written message: " 'You meet me this
afternoon at four behind the liberry if your not scared. Do not bring your dog cos I only want to talk. I will be alone. If
you do not come your a cowerd.
" 'Singed by W. Leader of the Grange Gang.' "
Ben sat down on the grassy slope, shaking his head and chuckling to himself. He passed the note to Amy, who
read it again, smiling at the childish scrawl.
"Somebody ought to teach Wilf Smithers to spell library and coward. Oh, hahaha! He's put the letter g in the
wrong place, instead of signed, it's singed. Written with a fiery pen, eh. Hahaha!" But his young friend did not find it
the least bit funny.
"Of course you're not going. Are you, Ben?"
Summer breeze took the part out of Ben's unruly hair, and he flicked it out of his eyes. "Why not?"
Alex had a number of reasons. He stated them all, anxiously. "Well, for a start, Wilf won't be alone. He'll have
his gang hiding nearby. He doesn't just want to talk. You'll get beaten up, that's why he says not to bring Ned along.
We know you aren't a coward, Ben, you don't have to go!"
Ben's strange blue eyes were smiling, but the younger boy could see something icy behind his careless
merriment. It sounded in his voice as he stood up and continued walking. "Four o'clock, I'll be there. Wouldn't miss it
for anything!"
"Then we'll be there, too!"
Ben turned to Amy. "I'd rather you left this to me, but if you really want to be there, you'd be best doing what
Wilf' s gang will do. Hide yourselves and keep an eye on my back. I'll shout if I need you, promise I will."
Amy's fists clenched at her sides. "We'll be there, won't we, Alex?"
Ben could see her brother's legs trembling as he replied. "You can count on us. We won't run off and leave
you!"
Ben threw an arm about his shoulders and squeezed lightly. "Thanks, pal, I'll feel safer with a friend like you
around. Thank you, too, Amy. Well, I'm off for lunch and a nice nap in a deck chair on the lawn. See you two at four.
Oh, sorry, I won't see you because you'll be hiding, but I'll feel a lot better knowing you're there. 'Bye, pals!"
They watched him turn off to the house with Mrs. Winn on his arm. Alex gritted his teeth. "I won't run away
this time, Amy, I'll stay and help Ben!"
Amy took the hand of her normally timid brother. "You never ran last time, Alex, you're getting braver by the
day, just like Ben."
At midday Mrs. Winn took lunch on the lawn with Ben, Ned, and Horatio. It was a soft summer Sunday, and
they had a pleasant time, basking in the quiet, sunny garden. Walking to and from church had tired the old lady out.
Her eyes flickered as she watched two white butterflies circling, weaving interminable patterns around the
lavender-blue blossoms of a bud-dleia bush. Bees droned lazily between dark crimson roses and purple-yellow
pansies, the fragrance of flowers lay light upon the still early noontide. Within a short time she was lying back in her
deck chair, sleeping peacefully.
Ben and Ned held a thoughtful conversation. "So then, ancient hound, what are your plans for the day?"
The big dog rolled luxuriously over on the grass. "Think I'll take a tour of the area with my feline friend."
Ben raised an eyebrow. "I take it you've finally got through to Horatio, then. A good talker, is he?"
Ned's ears flopped dolefully. "Not really. Sometimes he makes sense, but most of the time his thoughts are pure
nonsense." He dabbed a paw at the cat's tail. "Isn't that right, pal?"
Horatio turned his staring golden eyes upon the dog.
Ben watched; it was obvious they were communicating. "What's he saying, Ned?"
The Labrador shook his great head. "I'll translate word for word his exact thoughts at this moment. He's saying,
'Miaow miaow! Butt'fly, mouse, birdie, nice. Mowwwrrr! Winnie Winn give 'Ratio sardine an' milky milky tea, purrrr
nice!' "
Ben chuckled. "Keep at him. I'm sure Horatio will improve."
The Labrador stared forlornly at the cat. "Little savage, scoffing butterflies, mice, and birds. Ugh! What are you
going to do for the rest of the day, Ben, sit out here and snooze?"
The boy rose quietly from his deck chair. "No, I'm off to do a bit of exploring by myself... See you back here ...
shall we say about six?"
Ned waved a paw. "Six it is. Dinner will prob'ly be about seven. Mind how you go, Ben. Shout if you need me."
Ben walked briskly to the gate. "Righto, and you bark out loud if you want me for anything. See you later,
mate."
21.
CHAPELVALE VILLAGE SQUARE LAY DEserted and still in the summer afternoon, Ben was the only one
about. Crossing the square, he strolled up to the almshouse fence. Only the unruly lilac and privet bushes held the
rickety, sagging palings upright. He stood at the gate, weighing the ancient building up. A poor jumble, its thick
hanging thatch, long overdue to be rethatched. Ben unlooped a faded noose of cord that kept the gate fastened, which
creaked protestingly as he opened it, and started down the weed-scarred gravel path. A gruff voice cut the air with
thunderous power.
"Out! Get out, you're trespassin'! Out, out!" Ben stopped and held his arms out sideways. "Excuse me, I was
only—"
The voice from behind the almshouse door roared threateningly. "Out, I said! I'll give you a count of three. I'm
loading my shotgun! Out, d'ye hear.... One!... Two!"
Ben ran then, clearing the gate with a leap. Behind him he heard the click of shotgun hammers being cocked.
The voice called out in menace-laden tones. "Ye'll get both barrels if ye come back! Be off now!"
Ben knew it was little use arguing with a double-barreled shotgun. Thrusting both hands deep in his pockets, he
walked off across the square.
Dropping into the alley alongside Evans Tea Shoppe, the boy cut around the back of the stone buildings,
circling the square furtively until he arrived in the shade of some hawthorn trees behind the almshouse. He stood still
and silent there for several minutes, checking that his presence was unnoticed. Then, with a silent bound, he cleared
the back wall, sinking down in a crouch amid the long grass and weeds. Three warped and weatherbeaten wood