Thimble Summer (14 page)

They got off feeling very light and peculiar in their feet and rather whirly in their heads, and they went straight to a hot dog stand where they each bought and ate two hot dogs and a bottle of root beer.

“How about the Ferris wheel, now?” enquired Garnet, ready for anything.

“Let's wait a little bit,” urged Citronella in a careful voice. She looked rather green around the mouth. “I don't feel so good,” she said.

“Just don't think about it and you'll be all right,” advised Garnet airily, not having a stomach ache herself.

They decided to go and see the cooking and needlework exhibits in the big barnlike building at the far end of the fair. Hundreds of people had arrived by this time and Garnet caught a glimpse of her mother and Mrs. Hauser with Donald and Hugo.

“Don't say anything about feeling sick,” Garnet cautioned Citronella. “They might think you should go home!”

“I feel better now, anyway,” said Citronella, breathing a great sigh of relief. It was wonderful to know that she wasn't going to be sick after all; the fair took on a new color and beauty because of it.

“Oh I feel swell!” she cried joyously and gave a sudden skip.

They went into the barnlike building and looked at everything. There were hundreds of jars of jelly and pickles on the shelves, there were cut flowers in vases and growing plants in pots. In one of the glass cases there were dozens of different kinds of cake; golden cake, and marble, and fruit cake and orange; angel food and devil food and sponge! Each had a little card beside it with the name of the lady who'd made it.

“Oh, how delicious they look,” moaned Garnet. “Oh how my mouth is watering!”

“Mine isn't,” said Citronella. “I still don't feel so good when I look at those cakes.”

So they went on to the needlework section. Here they saw rag rugs and braid, and hook rugs, and baby clothes, and children's clothes, and crocheted afghans, and quilts, and sofa cushions embroidered with flowers and big dog's heads and other beautiful things.

Garnet heard someone say, “Why there's that little hitchhiker we picked up over to Esau's Valley!”

She turned around, and sure enough, there was Mrs. Zangl in a big lavender dress and a hat with a rose on it; and behind her with his hand on her shoulder stood Mr. Zangl, that nice, nice man. Garnet was glad to see them. They shook hands all around and said what a fine fair it was, and Citronella was introduced.

“Are you exhibiting a quilt today?” Garnet asked Mrs. Zangl.

“Look at that,” said Mr. Zangl, waving his outstretched hand towards a quilt hanging on the wall. “Just take a good look at that. See what the judges thought of it.”

Garnet looked at Mrs. Zangl's quilt; so did Citronella. It was every color in the world almost; all made of patches put together like flowers in a garden. It was the gayest, most brilliant coverlet you could ever hope to sleep under. There was a big blue ribbon pinned to the card with Mrs. Zangl's name on it.

“Beautiful!” said Garnet.

“Just beautiful!” said Citronella.

“Just the colors alone would keep you warm,” said Garnet.

Mrs. Zangl's gold tooth glittered.

“It's real nice of you to say so,” she smiled. “I always did like plenty of color. My, I felt bad when I got too fleshy to wear red dresses! I guess I take it out of my system by making my quilts so bright and all.”

“How about ice-cream cones for you three girls?” asked Mr. Zangl heartily.

“Well—” said Garnet looking at Citronella —

“Well—” said Citronella looking at Garnet. “I don't believe just
one
more would hurt me if I ate it real slow. I feel fine now,” she added in a whisper.

So they all had ice-cream cones. And Citronella ate every crumb of hers; she was entirely cured.

Then they thanked Mr. and Mrs. Zangl and promised to come and call if they ever came over to Deepwater; and Mr. Zangl said that he would come and take a look at Timmy later on.

As the two girls walked back among the tents and sideshows they noticed some people coming out of the one belonging to Zara, the Jungle Dancer (persons under 16 not admitted). Among them was a boy. It was Eric.

“Well!”
said Garnet going up to him and hooking onto his arm so he couldn't get away.

“Yes,
well!
” echoed Citronella.

“When did you have your sixteenth birthday, Eric
darling!
” mocked Garnet.

“Maybe he can't read yet,” taunted Citronella. “Maybe he's too young!”

Eric was unruffled. He just grinned and licked the long black licorice stick he was carrying.

“Oh I just took a big breath and stretched myself up and out. Then I looked straight ahead and gave my money to the man in that pulpit-thing and in I went. Anyway lots of kids are young looking for their age.”

“Yes, but Eric, what was
inside?
” asked Garnet prancing along beside him.

“Something scary, I bet,” said Citronella hopefully.

“Aw, it wasn't worth ten cents at all,” said Eric disappointingly. “It was just kind of a stout lady in a grass skirt. She had long hair and a lot of bracelets, and she did a sort of dance. You know, like this —” He tried, with much wiggling, to imitate the jungle dancer. Garnet and Citronella were delighted.

They walked on looking at things and talking. Suddenly Eric began to laugh at something he was remembering.

“You know what?” said he. “That lady, that Zara, the jungle dancer; she had a pair of glasses on, the kind that pinch to the bridge of your nose; she must have forgotten to take 'em off. Did she ever look funny!”

They found Mrs. Linden and Donald sitting in the shade of one of the tents. They looked exhausted.

“Donald's been on everything he could ride on in this whole fair,” said Mrs. Linden. “All except the whip cars and the Ferris wheel, and I won't let him go on those.”

“Ponies —” bragged Donald, “I rode on real live ponies around a ring, and I was on the big merry-go-round and the little merry-go-round and that thing like a train.” He looked at his mother. “But I
want
to go on the whip cars, and I
want
to go on the Ferris wheel.”

“No,” said Mrs. Linden automatically. She had been saying it for hours about those two particular things.

“Come with me, Donald,” said Eric, “we'll go and see the little pigs, and the fine horses, and maybe we can find a balloon for you, someplace.” He took Donald's hand and led him away.

“I don't know how we ever got along without Eric,” sighed Mrs. Linden fanning herself with her pocketbook.

“Where are Jay and father?” asked Garnet.

“Your father's still looking at the farm machinery,” Mrs. Linden said, “and Jay's been in the shies throwing tennis balls at china teapots for hours.”

Mrs. Hauser came towards them puffing like a locomotive. She was very hot; there were dew drops on her upper lip and her big nice face was the color of the rising sun. Under her arm she carried two huge pink Kewpie dolls; one with a red ballet skirt and one with green.

“I won 'em,” said Mrs. Hauser, grunting as she let herself carefully and gradually sink to the ground. “One at the coconut shy and one at the weight-lifting thing. You'd think they'd have better prizes than Kewpie dolls! Garnet, you can have the green one, and Citronella can keep the red. My, how my arches pain me.”

“It's almost time for the stock judging, Garnet,” warned Mrs. Linden, “you have about a half an hour.”

“I know what let's do, we just have time,” said Garnet. “How do you feel about the Ferris wheel now, Citronella?”

“I feel fine about it now,” said Citronella.

So they went to the little booth by the Ferris wheel and paid their money, and when it stopped they got on and sat side by side in a little hanging seat with a bar in front to keep them from falling out.

The operator pulled a big lever and the wheel gave a lurch and a creak, and up they went backwards, with the earth and the fair dropping away from them like a vanishing world. It was rather terrifying but exciting too. When they came to the top they could see the tents and surrounding fields and houses of New Conniston all spread out and flat and strange. And then they went down again like going over Niagara Falls in a barrel, and then up again like being shot out of a gun.

The third time around just as they reached the top the wheel stopped, and all the little suspended seats rocked to and fro sickeningly.

“They're just letting some more people on probably,” said Citronella reassuringly, and they leaned over the bar and looked down, down. But nobody was getting on. They saw the operator's bent-over back below them. He pulled the lever and the wheel gave a quiver but didn't move. They watched him jerk the lever back and forth angrily, push his hat to the back of his head and wipe his forehead. Then he looked up.

“Nothing to worry about, folks,” he called, “just a temporary delay.”

“He means it's stuck,” groaned Citronella. “Oh, gee!”

“And it's almost time for Timmy and the judges, Oh dear!” said Garnet.

Looking down like that gave you an awful feeling. Garnet held onto the side of the seat and raised her eyes. Below and on all sides lay the fair, whirling and jingling and unconcerned. She had never seen a ladder high enough to reach to the top of the Ferris wheel. It made her feel queer to think of that.

“We get stuck in the worst places,” grumbled Citronella, “libraries and Ferris wheels!”

“Oh, well they'll get it fixed soon,” said Garnet hopefully.

But the Ferris wheel was stuck for more than half an hour.

There they were at the top of the world, or so it felt, and nothing could be done. The sun beat down unmercifully, and now and then the cool, wide September air moved about them like cold currents at the bottom of a stream.

“There's Jay,” said Citronella.

And sure enough, looking small and unimportant down there on the ground, stood Jay with his hands cupped to his mouth.

“Hey!” he yelled. “It's three o'clock! Hurry up!” They could barely hear him but guessed at his meaning when he pointed repeatedly at the watch in his hand.

“Maybe he thinks we should just spread our wings and fly,” said Citronella acidly. She was thirsty.

Jay stared up at them helplessly, and then went over to talk to the operator of the wheel. After he had spoken with him he looked up at the girls again and hunched his shoulders. “Nothing doing yet awhile,” he shouted. “We'll send your dinner up by carrier pigeons.” Then he laughed heartily and went away. He walked fast with his legs opening and shutting like a pair of scissors. Lucky Jay, thought Garnet. Lucky Jay, with two legs walking firmly on the firm earth.

“Awful funny, isn't he?” said Citronella sulkily.

“Oh, we'll be down soon, don't you worry,” comforted Garnet. She looked about her at the people in the other seats. In back of them was a man all by himself, reading a newspaper which he had thoughtfully provided. And in front a man and a girl were writing notes on bits of paper and tossing them down to friends below, amid screams of laughter. Nobody seemed worried.

Just then the wheel shuddered and moved forward. Everyone had had enough of it by this time, and Garnet and Citronella had to wait while it stopped five times to let the people off who were ahead of them.

“Hurry!” commanded Garnet grabbing Citronella by the hand and running, “we've got to get to Timmy!”

“Oh land!” groaned Citronella, loping along and whacking into people. “I'm just about dying for a drink of water!”

“Afterwards,” promised Garnet, “barrels of water afterwards. Come on,
do
hurry!”

But when they got to the track crossing there was a bar in front of the gate and an important looking guard beside it.

“Take it easy, now,” he said to the girls as they pushed their way through the crowd to the rail. “There's a race going on. You'll have to wait till it's over.”

Dust rose from the track as horses trotted past; sunlight glittered on the spokes of wheels.

“I never knew a race to be so slow!” complained Garnet, hopping up and down and wringing her hands. “Oh
dear,
I can't bear it.”

“Never mind,” said Citronella. It was her turn to be comforting. “I'm real glad of a rest, we'll get there pretty soon.”

Finally it was over. The guard lifted the bar and they went through. They never knew what horse won the race, nor did they care. They were running a kind of race themselves.

They dashed into the pavilion and Garnet pushed her way past people to Mr. Freebody whom she saw standing by Timmy's pen.

“Are we too late?” she gasped almost in tears.

Mr. Freebody motioned with his broad hand towards Timmy's card above the pen.

“The judges have been and went,” he said solemnly.