CHAPTER Nine
Oftentimes, when children are in trouble, you will hear people say that it is all because of low self-esteem. "Low self-esteem" is a phrase which here describes children who do not think much of themselves. They might think that they are ugly, or boring, or unable to do anything correctly, or some combination of these things, and whether or not they are right, you can see why those sorts of feelings might lead one into trouble. In the vast majority of cases, however, getting into trouble has nothing to do with one's self-esteem. It usually has much more to do with whatever is causing the trouble-a monster, a bus driver, a banana peel, killer bees, the school principal-than what you think of yourself.
And so it was as Violet and Sunny Baudelaire stared at Count Olaf-or, as the nameplate on his desk said, Shirley. Violet and Sunny had a very healthy amount of self-esteem. Violet knew she could do things correctly, because she had invented many devices that worked perfectly. Sunny knew she wasn't boring, because her siblings always took an interest in what she had to say. And both Baudelaire sisters knew that they weren't ugly, because they could see their pleasant facial features reflected back at them, in the middle of Count Olaf's shiny, shiny eyes. But it did not matter that they thought these things, because they were trapped.
"Why, hello there, little girls," Count Olaf said in a ridiculously high voice, as if he were really a receptionist named Shirley instead of an evil man after the Baudelaire fortune. "What are your names?"
"You know our names," Violet said curtly, a word which here means "tired of Count Olaf's nonsense." "That wig and that lipstick don't fool us any more than your pale-brown dress and sensible beige shoes. You're Count Olaf."
"I'm afraid you're mistaken," Count Olaf said. "I'm Shirley. See this nameplate?"
"Fiti!" Sunny shrieked, which meant "That nameplate doesn't prove anything, of course!"
"Sunny's right," Violet said. "You're not Shirley just because you have a small piece of wood with your name on it."
"I'll tell you why I'm Shirley," Count Olaf said. "I'm Shirley because I would like to be called Shirley, and it is impolite not to do so."
"I don't care if we're impolite," Violet said, "to such a disgusting person as yourself."
Count Olaf shook his head. "But if you do something impolite to me" he said, "then I might do something impolite to you, like for instance tearing your hair out with my bare hands."
Violet and Sunny looked at Count Olaf's hands. They noticed for the first time that he had grown his fingernails very long, and painted them bright pink as part of his disguise. The Baudelaire sisters looked at one another. Count Olaf's nails looked very sharp indeed.
"O.K., Shirley," Violet said. "You've been lurking around Paltryville since we arrived, haven't you?"
Shirley lifted a hand to pat her wig into place. "Maybe," she said, still in her foolish high voice.
"And you've been hiding out in the eye-shaped building this whole time, haven't you?" Violet said.
Shirley batted her eyes, and Violet and Sunny noticed that beneath her one long eyebrow- another identifying mark of Count Olaf-she was wearing long false eyelashes. "Perhaps," she said.
"And you're in cahoots with Dr. Orwell!" Violet said, using a phrase which here means "working with, in order to capture the Baudelaire fortune." "Aren't you?"
"Possibly," Shirley said, crossing her legs and revealing long white stockings imprinted with the pattern of an eye.
"Popinsh!" Sunny shrieked.
"Sunny means," Violet said, "that Dr. Orwell hypnotized Klaus and caused that terrible accident, didn't she?"
"Conceivably," Shirley said.
"And he's being hypnotized again, right now, isn't he?" Violet asked.
"It's within the bounds of the imagination," Shirley said.
Violet and Sunny looked at one another, their hearts pounding. Violet took her sister's hand and took a step backward, toward the door. "And now," she said, "you're going to try to whisk us away, aren't you?"
"Of course not," Shirley said. "I'm going to offer you a cookie, like a good little receptionist."
"You're not a receptionist!" Violet cried.
"I certainly am," Shirley said. "I'm a poor receptionist who lives all by herself, and who wants very much to raise children of her own. Three children, in fact: a smartypants little girl, a hypnotized little boy, and a buck-toothed baby."
"Well, you can't raise us," Violet said. "We're already being raised by Sir."
"Oh, he'll hand you over to me soon enough," Shirley said, her eyes shining brightly.
"Don't be ab-" Violet said, but she stopped herself before she could say "surd." She wanted to say "surd." She wanted to say "Sir wouldn't do a thing like that," but inside she wasn't so sure. Sir had already made the three Baudelaires sleep in one small bunk bed. He had already made them work in a lumbermill. And he had already only fed them gum for lunch. And as much as she wanted to believe that it was absurd to think that he would simply hand the Baudelaire orphans over to Shirley, Violet was not certain. She was only half sure, and so she stopped herself after half a word.
"Ab?" said a voice behind her. "What in the world does the word 'ab' mean?"
Violet and Sunny turned around and saw Dr. Orwell leading Klaus into the waiting room. He was wearing another new pair of glasses and was looking confused.
"Klaus!" Violet cried. "We were so worried ab-" She stopped herself before she could say "out" when she saw her brother's expression. It was the same expression he'd had the previous night, when he finally came back from his first appointment with Dr. Orwell. Behind his newest pair of glasses, Klaus had wide, wide eyes, and a dazed and distant smile, as if his sisters were people he did not know so well.
"There you go again, with 'ab,'" Dr. Orwell said. "Whatever in the world does it mean?"
"'Ab' isn't a word, of course," Shirley said.
"Only a stupid person would say a word like 'ab.'"
"They are stupid, aren't they?" Dr. Orwell agreed, as though they were talking about the weather instead of insulting young children. "They must have very low self-esteem."
"I couldn't agree more, Dr. Orwell," Shirley said.
"Call me Georgina," the horrible optometrist replied, winking. "Now, girls, here is your brother. He's a little tired after his appointment, but he'll be fine by tomorrow morning. More than fine, in fact. Much more." She turned and pointed at the door with her jeweled cane. "I believe you three know the way out."
"I don't," Klaus said faintly. "I can't remember coming in here."
"That often happens after optometry appointments," Dr. Orwell said smoothly. "Now run along, orphans."
Violet took her brother by the hand and began to lead him out of the waiting room. "We're really free to go?" she asked, not believing it for a moment.
"Of course," Dr. Orwell said. "But I'm sure my receptionist and I will see you soon. After all, Klaus seems to have gotten very clumsy lately. He's always causing accidents."
"Roopish!" Sunny shrieked. She probably meant "They're not accidents! They're the results of hypnotism!" but the adults paid no attention. Dr. Orwell merely stepped out of the doorway and Shirley wiggled her pink fingers at them in a scrawny wave.