The teacup had violets on it; the sugar cookies, matching purple sprinkles. Arabella looked so darned happy to see me, and to have the privilege of plying me with tea and cookies, it would’ve been curmudgeonly of me to decline. Besides, both the tea and the cookies were excellent.
Arabella gave me time to appreciate them, nodding approvingly as I ate. “You poor dear, you’ve had quite a time of it, haven’t you? How are you settling in?”
“It’s going well, I hope. It’s a little early to say. But I feel honored that the board chose me.” Out of desperation, most likely, but I wasn’t going to bring that up with Arabella. “You’ve been running this place for quite a while, haven’t you? You must have seen a lot of changes over the years. Do you think kids want different things now, compared to when you started? It seems that everything has to flash and buzz and beep, and it’s all electronic these days.”
A cloud passed over Arabella’s face. “Sadly so. But the younger ones still enjoy it. Sometimes I go down to the exhibits and just watch them playing. They get so excited! And we try to keep things fresh-that’s one of the reasons for the new exhibit.”
“What is it about? I apologize, but I don’t spend much time with children, so I’m kind of out of the loop.”
“It’s based on the
“Amen to that.” I poured myself another cup of tea-and helped myself to one more sugar cookie. “So tell me, what other kinds of programming do you offer? Do you have any agreement with the school district?”
“Oh, of course…” And we were off, talking shop. After a while it was clear to me that Arabella’s reputation as a good businesswoman was well deserved. She knew her audience, and what worked. She also knew her limitations, and she was happily settled in her particular niche, with no plans to expand beyond it. In a way it was heartening to me: young children weren’t changing much, and they were still enthralled by simple things, bless them.
When I checked my watch again, it was after five. “Heavens, I had no idea it was so late. I don’t want to keep you.”
“Oh, but you can’t leave without seeing the exhibit! A little sneak preview? Once it opens, it will be covered with children-at least, that’s what we hope.”
“I’d love to see it.” I was honestly curious about what she and her staff had done with the exhibit.
“Well, then, come with me. You’re in for a treat!”
CHAPTER 4
I followed Arabella from her office to another part of the second floor. It was hidden behind drop cloths decorated with whimsical animals and birds that looked like they’d been hand-painted by preschoolers, which they probably had. Across the top ran a large banner clearly made by somebody a couple of decades older, that proclaimed in big letters, “Harriet’s Coming!” Arabella turned to me and her eyes actually sparkled-something that, before this moment, I wouldn’t have believed possible. She was so thrilled to be showing off her newest addition, she simply radiated good cheer. She held back one panel of cloth and motioned me inside.
I immediately felt like Gulliver. I had stepped into a miniature world, and I was at least two feet too tall for it. The space must have measured fifty by fifty feet, and it was filled with animals and plants, interspersed with child- size molded chairs and low tables, presumably for craft projects. A case mounted on the wall contained the books in the
“It’s just me!” Arabella called out to the workers. They looked up, and one waved a hand. Then they resumed painting. “I’d introduce you, but we’ve got such a tight deadline I’d rather they just keep working. So much to do!”
I noticed that Arabella was much closer to the right size for this exhibit than I was. “This looks wonderful,” I said, and meant it. “What’s your target age group?”
Arabella looked like a proud mother hen. “Toddlers, up to five. So they can look Harriet here in the eye, you know.”
I admired how whoever had crafted this statue had managed to reduce the hedgehog’s signature spines to something that wouldn’t impale a child climbing on her. The artist had succeeded, though the result was a wee bit lumpy. But safe. In a public institution that needed to be childproof, safety had to trump authenticity.
“Harriet is a delightful character. You’d think a hedgehog’s personality would be prickly, with all those spines, but Harriet is a sweetheart,” Arabella said. “That’s a real teaching opportunity, you know: don’t judge someone by her exterior, but take some time to get to know her. And she has such wonderful friends! Mallory Mouse, Barry Bunny. And of course there has to be a bully-there always is-and that’s Willy the Weasel. But Hadley has brought him around slowly, over the course of the series. Willy just wants to make friends, but he doesn’t know how to do it.”
I had to ask, “Are there any native hedgehogs in Pennsylvania?”
“Good question, dear. No, there aren’t, not in any part of America-but they’re found in Africa, Eurasia, Asia, Borneo, and parts of Europe,” she recited promptly. “Oh, and in New Zealand, but those were introduced there. But there is a very active group in this country promoting hedgehogs as pets. The little things are fairly low maintenance, and they’re rather endearing little creatures, aren’t they? Do you remember Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle?”
My mind was blank for a moment until a childhood memory surfaced. “Wasn’t that a Beatrix Potter character? Oh, right-she was a hedgehog, too.”
“Exactly. And a very sweet one. That’s the spirit I think the author has captured, although of course Harriet’s stories have a more modern feeling.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, how did you fund the exhibit?” I said.
“I’m sure you’re aware that there are grants available for educational purposes, and we tapped into those where we could. After all, this display encourages young readers. Of course, all that happened before so many foundations faced financial difficulties-thank goodness. I doubt we could do it under current conditions. Hadley Eastman’s publisher contributed as well-this is excellent publicity for her series. And our board was very supportive. Most of them have young children or grandchildren.”
“I wondered about that. Is it a requirement that they have children to join the board?” Not a problem we faced. In fact, children were rarely seen within the Pennsylvania Antiquarian Society, which was just as well, given the delicate nature of our collections. I shuddered at the thought of sticky little fingers on old documents, and games of tag among the shelving.
“We don’t require it exactly, but it’s strongly supported, and most board members are in complete agreement with the idea. In fact, when we are working on recruiting a new member, we typically ask them to come during the day or on a weekend along with their children, so they can get the full flavor of the place. Not many have been able to resist joining us after that experience.”
“Lucky you. I’m guessing the average age of your board members is about half that of ours.”
“Now, let me show you…”
As we strolled through the still-incomplete exhibit, Arabella identified the individual characters scattered around the room, each within its own little stage set. After a while I realized that the building had quieted. No more babbling of young voices or shrieks of glee from downstairs. I checked my watch: yes, it was close to six. I supposed you would get used to the noise if you worked in a place like this, but I had to admit I preferred the tranquility of our library. And our walls, while roughly the same age, were at least twice as thick, and muffled what little noise there was.
We’d completed the circuit of the room, which didn’t take long because the room was geared to children’s short legs, and Arabella asked, “Well, what do you think?”
She looked so eager that even if I’d had anything negative to say, which I didn’t, I wouldn’t have had the heart.
