"We brought some shortbread from Edinburgh.
Do you like Scotch shortbread?" "My favorite treat!" If Qwilleran was atoning, he was doing it with panache. To fortify himself for the appointment he had a good lunch at the Old Stone Mill--crab bisque, a Reuben sandwich, pumpkin pie--and before driving to Goodwinter Boulevard he picked up a bunch of mums at the florist shop. Mums were Moose County's all-purpose flower for weddings, funerals, and table centerpieces. On second thought, he bought two bunches, one rust and one yellow. The sisters lived in one of the larger stone mansions on the boulevard, next door to the residence of the late Dr. Halifax Goodwinter. The Chisholms and the Utleys had been among the founders of Moose County. Yet, like many of the old families, they were disappearing as the later generations stayed single or remained childless or moved away after marrying outsiders from such remote areas as Texas and the District of Columbia.
It was said that Grace Utley had two daughters Down Below, who would have nothing to do with her. So the widow and her unmarried sister lived by themselves in the big house. According to Junior Goodwinter, they were among the old-timers who would fight rezoning to their last breath. Upon arriving, Qwilleran had hardly touched finger to doorbell before the door was flung open.
"Welcome to Teddy Bear Castle!" cried Grace in her abrasive voice, while Zella hovered in the background, wringing her hands with excitement. She was wearing her gold teddy bear with ruby eyes. Grace, bereft of everything but what she had on her person at the time of the theft, was reduced to a few gold chains and a frog brooch paved with emeralds. With a courteous bow Qwilleran presented his flowers, rust for Grace and yellow for Zella, who squealed as if she had never before received a floral token.
"So good of you to come!" said Grace.
"Zella, dear, put these in water." Then grandly she waved an arm about the foyer.
"How do you like our little friends, Mr. Qwilleran?" Being familiar with boulevard architecture, he knew what to expect: grand staircase, massive chandelier, carved woodwork, stained glass, oversize furniture.
But he was unprepared for the hundreds of shoe-button eyes that stared at him--charmingly, impishly, crazily, table tops cabinets, chair seats and even the treads of the wide staircase.
"We're collectors," Grace explained with pride.
"So I see.
" Feeling a presence behind him, he turned to find a plush animal somewhat larger than himself.
"That's Woodrow, our watch bear," said Grace.
"How many do you own?" "Zella, dear, how many do we have now?" she shouted toward the kitchen.
"One thousand, eight hundred, and sixty-two," came the small voice.
"One thousand, eight hundred, and sixty-two... yes. Zella has them catalogued for insurance purposes." She led Qwilleran to a locked vi trine in the drawing room.
"This is Theodore, our button-in-ear Steiff. One just like him sold for $80,000." Other bears sat on chairs, windowsills, the fireplace mantel, and the grand piano.
"That's Ignace on the piano bench-Zella's special friend. She took him to Scotland. I took Ulysses, the one on the rocking horse," Grace said.
"Fortunately Ulysses was traveling in Zella's luggage." Other bears sat at the dining room table with a full setting of china, crystal, and silver at each place and a napkin on each lap. Several, wearing eyeglasses, were reading books in the library or working at the desk.
Throughout the house they were arranged in tableaux: playing croquet, trimming a Christmas tree, sailing toy boats in a tub of water, wheeling a baby bear in a stroller, gardening with a toy wheelbarrow.
Although they all seemed to have the same perky ears, felt snout, stitched mouth, and shoe-button eyes, they had individual facial expressions and personalities. Many were in costume. Some squeaked, or laughed, or blinked battery-operated eyes. Qwilleran, who had seen everything as a newsman Down Below, had never seen anything like this.
"Zella, dear, you may serve the tea now," Grace said as the tour ended.
A few distinguished bears were invited to join the party. They had their own tiny cups and saucers, and Zella poured tea for them.
Grace said to Qwilleran, as sweetly as she could with her rasping voice, "We're going to name our next little friend after you, and you must attend the christening party." Asking permission to use a tape recorder, he asked the routine questions: Why do you collect bears?
When did you start? Which have you had the longest? Where do you find them? Who makes the costumes? How do you keep them from catching dust? Do you have a good security system?
"The best!" said Grace.
"We also have a watchman living in the caretaker's apartment over the garage, and his wife vacuums the bears in rotation." Meanwhile, Qwilleran drank tea without pleasure and ate shortbread dutifully, asking himself, What am I doing here? ... Are the women crazy? ... Are they pulling my leg? With his third cup of tea he made a desperate effort to change the subject.
"Well, it looks as if you're going to have some excitement next door--the liquidation sale.
" Grace erupted in indignation.
"It's absolutely dreadful! Zella and I are leaving town until it's over. No one should be allowed to have a tag sale in a neighborhood like this! How will they handle the crowds? Where will they park?
Everyone in Moose County adored Dr.
Hal and will want to buy something as a memento. I'll tell you one thing: Dr. Hal would never have permitted such a sale! But his daughter is another breed. She does as she pleases without regard for anyone else. The entire contents of the house should have been moved to the Bid-a-Bit auction barn." "Why didn't Dr. Melinda do that?" he inquired.
"Why? Because she can make more money with a tag sale on the premises!" "Did you know the Goodwinter family well?" "All my life! ... Zella, dear, this tea is cold. Would you bring a fresh pot?" When her sister had left the room, she said in a hushed voice, "Zella could have married Dr. Hal, but she missed her chance by being too meek, and he had the misfortune to marry a woman with bad blood. Mrs. Goodwinter's father died of a disease that the family never mentions, and her brother embezzled money in Illinois and went to prison. Melinda was their firstborn, spoiled from the cradle. Their son--we always knew he'd be the black sheep of the family. He finally left town and was later killed in a car accident.
Everyone said it was a blessing in disguise because he was an embarrassment to his father and a worry to his mother, who was a chronic invalid." Before making his escape, Qwilleran asked, "Would you ladies allow the Moose County Something to photograph your collection for a feature story?" "We'd be flattered, wouldn't we, Zella? That is, Mr. Qwilleran, if you'll promise to write the article yourself. You write so well!" "I think that could be arranged. And now, thank you for a memorable adventure and delicious tea." Blushing furiously, the shy sister stepped forward, saying, "This is for you!" She handed him a brown velvet teddy bear, hardly three inches high.
"Oh, no! I wouldn't think of robbing your collection," he said.
"But we want you to have it," Grace insisted.
"Please accept it." "His name is Tiny Tim," Zella said. With Tiny Tim in his pocket, Qwilleran left the house, saying to himself, Whew! Back home at the barn, his first move was to phone Riker at the office. He said, "Arch, you owe me one! I've just spent a tedious afternoon with the Chisholm sisters, drinking tea and eating shortbread, and they want me to be godfather to their next teddy bear." "What about their idea for a book?" "They never mentioned a book. They just wanted someone to visit and be impressed by their collection, but I think we should do a story. Send a good photographer over there, like John Bushland, and I'll bet the wire services will pick it up!" While he was on the phone, the Siamese were rifling his jacket pocket. They knew instinctively that something new had arrived.