“What if we contract it while we’re in London?” Micky asked, glancing up from a math puzzle in the day’s newspaper.
“Well, then you come straight home.”
“Miss Hunroe’s right,” Molly agreed, biting into her ketchup sandwich. Splodges of red shlop oozed out and fell onto her lap. She took a slug of concentrated orange squash from her glass. (Ketchup sandwiches were Molly’s favorite food, while concentrated orange squash was her favorite drink.) “This place is crawling with flu germs. We’re probably better off going to London.”
Before they left, Molly and Micky dipped their heads into different bedrooms to say good-bye. Molly found Petula, who was dozing in her basket in the pantry, and kissed her velvety nose.
“We won’t be gone for long, Petula. I’ll bring you back something nice.” She joined Micky in the hall.
“It’s like the plague,” Molly observed as they walked down the nine white steps outside the front door. “Let’s buy everyone a get-better present in London.” They crossed the circular white-gravel drive, past a topiary bush in the shape of an eagle. Miss Hunroe was already inside her green sports car, revving the engine.
“Nice car, Miss Hunroe,” Micky commented. “A classic Porsche, isn’t it?”
“Yes, well, we all have our weaknesses,” Miss Hunroe replied, her rose perfume filling the cold morning air as she opened the car window. “I’m afraid it’s a bit small, though. It’s only really designed for two people. One of you will have a tight ride in the back.” She held out her coin. “Toss?”
Molly took the coin. It was heavy—solid gold, Molly suspected. And it wasn’t like a normal money coin. It was plain, except for the picture of a musical note embossed on one side. It fitted snugly into her palm and felt really nice to hold.
Molly lost the toss and so climbed into the back. In a minute or two they were motoring up the drive, past the llama fields where the animal-shaped bushes stood dotted like leafy zoo creatures. Ahead of them, the morning sky smoldered with pink light.
Miss Hunroe reached out to the dashboard. “Let’s see what the weather’s going to be like today,” she said. With the flick of a switch, the car’s radio was on.
“…the skies should be fairly clear over all the country,” a weatherman was saying, “though there are blustery winds and cloud forms building near London. Quite a bit of rain may be on the way. We recommend—”
“Damn!” Miss Hunroe snapped the radio off. “How irritating. I’d wanted it to be perfect weather today. Someone’s interfering with it. Hah.”
Three
Miss Hunroe clicked her fingers, encouraging Molly and Micky to follow her toward the natural history museum.
She led them through two tall black gates in the museum’s railings and down a slope, past a large rectangular outdoor skating rink. A white expanse of glinting ice sparkled in the gray noon light, and a few happy skaters wobbled or glided about in bobble hats, coats, and gloves. A slim Japanese woman in a red felt tutu and smart red boots pirouetted and then came to an abrupt halt when she spotted Miss Hunroe.
“Hurry, Miss Teriyaki!” Miss Hunroe called to her. “The meeting’s now!”
“What meeting?” Molly asked.
“The meeting to meet you, of course,” said Miss Hunroe mysteriously. “I’ve got quite a few surprises for you two today.”
Molly looked at their tutor and then at the stylish woman out on the ice. No wonder she had never enjoyed school before! Miss Teriyaki was now skating very fast to the rink’s exit. Too fast. For in the next second, a large man stepped nervously onto the ice. She crashed into him and fell, her leg twisting horribly beneath her.
“Ow. That looks nasty.” Molly winced. She and Micky stopped to watch the woman being helped up. She was obviously in pain. “Miss Hunroe,” Molly called after her. “Your friend…”
Miss Hunroe walked briskly on, oblivious to the accident. She was already a hundred yards ahead, climbing the broad stone steps to the museum’s main entrance. So Molly and Micky followed. They admired the building’s brickwork. They pointed at the animals and the imaginary creatures and monster-face gargoyles that were carved in stone under the tall windows.
“Spooky,” Molly commented, and she and Micky stepped in through giant brass-ornamented doors into the building’s entrance vestibule. They walked up the steps through interior doors that led them into the museum proper.
Inside, the ceilings were enormously high, high as the vaulted roof above. The walls were built with orange and white bricks, which made the hugeness of the interior seem pretty and almost cozy. Then at the end of this tall exhibition room was a very wide set of stairs that rose and parted like two branches of a tree, going left and right up to balconies. And in the center, before the stairs, jarring all sense of coziness, was the massive black skeleton of a diplodocus dinosaur.
Molly and Micky paused to absorb the atmosphere and to look at the lonely, ghostly remains of the dinosaur, but already Miss Hunroe was steaming up the stairs, her cream patent-leather boots clipping on the marble steps. Molly and Micky followed. They had both suddenly become slightly irritated by Miss Hunroe’s speed. Both had now been reminded that with a teacher, even a glamorous teacher, students do what they are told.
“I’m not used to being led about like a kindergarten kid,” Molly grumbled to Micky. “You know, the last time I went to school was over a year ago.”
“Well, I’ve been bossed about much more recently than that,” said Micky. “It stinks. Hope she doesn’t turn into a dictator.”
“A what?”
“A dictator.” They took the left branch of steps that went upstairs. “A dictator is a leader of a country who just does what he wants, who tells everyone how things are going to be without asking them, without anyone voting for anything.”
“Yeah, well, let’s hope she doesn’t turn into a dictator,” Molly agreed. “You know, I don’t think Miss Hunroe is quite as unteachery as we thought she might be. I think she’s got a great big thumb and wants to keep us under it.”
They walked up to the museum’s upper gallery level. Here they passed display cases full of stuffed apes. Some were glaring with snarling mouths, others stared with doleful eyes.
“Incredible to think we’re descended from them,” Molly said. “I suppose they’re just like us, though—some are mean and selfish and some are kind and thoughtful.”
They walked past glass boxes full of examples of insects. A model of a termite the size of Petula raised its ugly pincers at them.
“Urrgh, look at that ant!” Molly said.
“It’s a termite,” Micky corrected her. “I like termites, they’re cool. They make huge mud-castle constructions that they live in.”
At the end of the balcony corridor were half a dozen steps veering to the center of the building. Here the roof was very low. Its underside was paneled and painted with examples of plant species.
“Atropa belladonna. Deadly nightshade,” Miss Hunroe declared, sweeping her hand toward the paintings. Beside the letters was a picture of an herb with oval leaves and dull purple flowers and black berries.
“That’s a nasty one, isn’t it?” said Molly.
“Yup,” Micky answered. “If a person eats that, they get poisoned and they can’t walk properly. And that one, too.” He pointed to a picture of a plant with white flowers. “Conium maculatum. Hemlock. That paralyzes you if you eat it. Amazing! It looks so pretty, doesn’t it?”
“Don’t judge your flower by its prettiness,” Molly agreed.
“Hurry up,” tutted Miss Hunroe, only visible for a second as she poked her head back through the door in an oak partition in front of them. It was the entrance to a section of the building called the botanical library.