Kit Kittredge: An American Girl Page #3

Did you know Mother|divided the living room in half...

... to make room for Miss Bond,|a mobile librarian who moved in last week?

Now, if she can only learn the difference|between the gas and the brake...

Oh, take cover!

We'll all breathe a little easier.

Where'd everyone go?

You'll be happy to know|we've been using...

... Aunt Millie's Waste Not, Want Not tips|to make meals stretch.

Like cutting one piece of toast|into four triangles...

... to make a whole loaf|go for three meals.

Mother says it's magic.

- But the real magician is our newest arrival...|- Jefferson J. Berk...

...master of misdirection, dean of deception,|and escape artist extraordinaire.

Observe.|I need a volunteer from the audience.

Young man.

- What's your name?|- Stirling.

Stirling.

- Do you mind wearing these for a while?|No. No.

Come with me.

Notice the strong solid-steel cuffs.|Can you get out of that?

- Are you sure? Are you sure?|- Yeah.

- Are you sure?|Ha, ha!

The only thing that can get you out of that|is this key.

We hope.|Sometimes it doesn't work though.

And then we have to cut you out of it.

Oh, there we are. All right, now,|would you hold this key for me, please?

Yes.

Don't lose it.|Will you put these on my wrists, please?

Yes.

Now.

Would you like me to free myself|from these?

With brute force or with magic?

- Magic.|Magic.

All right, then. All right, then.

Let's count. See how long it takes.

One, two, three...

Wow.

Wow!

- How'd you do that?|- It's magic.

And, Dad, please remember,|I miss you more than you know.

We all do. Never forget that.

Hi.

Hi.

Sorry.

Allergies.

These are from your room.

Uh, just leave them there.

I'll put them away.

Is that...

...Ernie Lombardi?

Yep.

A picture of the Schnoz.

Did you know|that he's the biggest player on the team?

Six-foot-three, 230 pounds.

He's my favorite.

That's funny. He's got a huge nose|and you've got...

Huge ears.

- I know.|- Ha, ha.

That's why I like him.

I'm sorry we put you out of your room.

That's all right.|I can get more writing done here.

- What do you write?|- News articles.

- For your family?|- And for the Cincinnati Register.

You write for the newspaper?

Well, I haven't been in "print" print yet.|But I hope to be.

My brother's friend is a big reporter|for the Register.

Sorry, kiddo, not for the Register.

But everyone wants to know|about the Chicago World's Fair.

Everyone and their second cousin's written|about the Chicago World's Fair.

- You know what Mr. Gibson says?|- Yeah, yeah, do it.

I want something new.|I want something fresh.

I want something real.|Don't sugarcoat your stories, boys.

This is the Cincinnati Register,|a beacon of cold, clear light...

...in a sea of sentimental flop.

So, what were you saying, Mr?

Uh, Peabody.|Sir, uh, William Peabody and nothing.

- I was just quoting you, sir.|- Oh.

Wait, Mr. Gibson.

Well.

Hello, sweetie, what's your name?

Kit Kittredge.|Well, actually, it's Margaret Mildred...

...after my mother and an aunt. But when|I was younger, my father used to sing:

Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag

And it sort of stuck.

Sir.

- Fascinating.|- Wait.

I wrote an article|I think you should publish.

Oh.

Well, thank you very much.

And, by the way, I don't lisp.

Whoopsy daisy.

Whoo! Are you all right?

Uh, yeah, as long as that horn works.

Ha, ha. Now, can I interest you in a book?

- I don't have much time for reading.|- Well, you should take the time to read.

It's a wonderful way|to go wherever you want.

I've just finished reading this one.

The Adventures of Robin Hood?

He steals from the rich,|and then he gives to the poor.

And then what happened to him?|- Well, he'll have to tell you.

What about you, Countee?|Would you like one?

I can only read Hobo.

Oh, I've never tried that. Hmm.

How about I teach you to read books,|and you teach me to read Hobo?

That'd be swell, Stirling.

How about this one?

Thank you.

- It's a loaner, though.|- Okay.

Will?

- Are you okay?|- Ha, ha.

Will?

I want you to have|Mr. Kittredge's old boots.

No, ma'am, I couldn't.

You've done wonderful work.|Beyond what you and Countee have eaten.

I insist you take these|before those things fall off your feet.

Thank you.

Go on.

- Miss Bond.|- Mrs. Kittredge.

Will.

Ruthie.

Hi, Ruthie. What's wrong?

- Morning.|- We're going on vacation.

Myrtle Beach, 10 days, starting Friday.

- And that's bad because...?|It's so much more fun here.

You're all I ever talk about at home.|Even ask my mom.

The other day,|I was telling her about you, Miss Dooley.

Aw, thank you.

She didn't say|what she was saying about you.

You know what you need? A novelette.

What are you writing?

You just gave me a great idea|for an article.

I wanna write it down before I forget.

Here.

I'll do this for you, and you go type it up|before you forget, okay?

- Are you sure?|- Go.

Thanks, Ruthie.|- I have just the thing.

They fit real good.

Thank you.

Pretty.

Wish me luck.

Who is it?

Margaret Mildred Kittredge.

- What do you want?|- To be in print.

Well, how do I say this nicely?

- But you haven't even read it!|- She's sorry, Mr. Gibson.

- Come on, Kit.|- Yeah, that's right, I am sorry.

I'm sorry you can't recognize a good story|when it's standing right outside your door.

What did you say?

Portrait of a boarding house, sir.|It's fresh. It's new. It's real.

What you're holding in your hand, sir,|is the story you've been looking for.

And you can throw me out if you want,|but I suggest that you read it first.

"A Kid's-Eye View of the Depression|in Cincinnati."

By Kit Kittredge, age 10.

Ha, ha.|That's enough.

You wrote this?

Yes.

It's not bad.

Are you going to print it, Mr. Gibson?|- I'm sorry, kid.

"Not bad" is good...

...but it's not good enough.

Keep it up, kid.|We pay a penny a word for freelance.

One, two, three, four,|five, six, seven, eight.

And guess what.|They pay a penny a word.

Which means, I can make two|or three dollars from just one article.

Whoo-ee!

I was thinking about doing a story|on you and Countee, Will, if you let me.

What's so interesting about us?

I'd like to find out,|shadow you for the day.

- That's reporter talk.|- Oh, yeah.

Well, actually, I'm on my way out|to get a few things...

...at my camp.

You can come if you'd like.

Unless you need us here, Mother.

No, I can manage.

Come on, Countee.

Ruthie, Stirling.|Would you like to be my assistants?

- Do we get paid?|- No.

- Okay.|Yeah.

Will, Countee was saying something|about reading Hobo signs?

You know, he can read a sign|on a gatepost about 200 yards out.

- He's saved my hide about a hundred times.|- What kind of sign's on a gatepost?

The ones that hobos leave|to help each other.

- You see that?|- Looks like a cat.

It is a cat. It's a good sign too.

It means a kind lady lives here.

- Not many houses want hobos, you know.|- You had a cat on your gate, Kit.

- We had a cat.|- Well, I live over there. Do I have a cat?

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