had one word written on it: SOPHIE.
Before she had time to realize what she was doing, she grabbed the envelope and stuffed it into the brown envelope with the Plato pages. Then she rushed out of the door and slammed it behind her.
The barking was getting closer. But worst of all was that the boat was gone. After a second or two she saw it, adrift halfway across the lake. One of the oars was floating beside it. All because she hadn’t been able to pull it completely up on land. She heard the dog barking quite nearby now and saw movements between the trees on the other side of the lake.
Sophie didn’t hesitate any longer. With the big envelope in her hand, she plunged into the bushes behind the cabin. Soon she was having to wade through marshy ground, sinking in several times to well above her ankles. But she had to keep going. She had to get home.
Presently she stumbled onto a path. Was it the path she had taken earlier? She stopped to wring out her dress. And then she began to cry.
How could she have been so stupid? The worst of all was the boat. She couldn’t forget the sight of the row- boat with the one oar drifting helplessly on the lake. It was all so embarrassing, so shameful. . .
The philosophy teacher had probably reached the lake by now. He would need the boat to get home. Sophie felt almost like a criminal. But she hadn’t done it on purpose.
The envelope! That was probably even worse. Why had she taken it? Because her name was on it, of course, so in a way it was hers. But even so, she felt like a thief. And what’s more, she had provided the evidence that it was she who had been there.
Sophie drew the note out of the envelope. It said:
Sophie couldn’t possibly think about these questions right now, but she assumed they had something to do with the next philosopher. Wasn’t he called Aristotle?
When she finally saw the hedge after running so far through the woods it was like swimming ashore after a shipwreck. The hedge looked funny from the other side.
She didn’t look at her watch until she had crawled into the den. It was ten-thirty. She put the big envelope into the biscuit tin with the other papers and stuffed the note with the new questions down her tights.
Her mother was on the telephone when she came in. When she saw Sophie she hung up quickly.
“Where on earth have you been?”
“I... went for a walk ... in the woods,” she stammered.
“So I see.”
Sophie stood silently, watching the water dripping from her dress.
“I called Joanna...”
“Joanna?”
Her mother brought her some dry clothes. Sophie only just managed to hide the philosopher’s note. Then they sat together in the kitchen, and her mother made some hot chocolate.
“Were you with him?” she asked after a while.
“Him?”
Sophie could only think about her philosophy teacher.
“With him, yes. Him.... your rabbit!”
Sophie shook her head.
“What do you do when you’re together, Sophie? Why are you so wet?”
Sophie sat staring gravely at the table. But deep down inside she was laughing. Poor Mom, now she had that to worry about.
She shook her head again. Then more questions came raining down on her.
“Now I want the truth. Were you out all night? Why did you go to bed with your clothes on? Did you sneak out as soon as I had gone to bed? You’re only fourteen, Sophie. I demand to know who you are seeing!”
Sophie started to cry. Then she talked. She was still frightened, and when you are frightened you usually talk.
She explained that she had woken up very early and had gone for a walk in the woods. She told her mother about the cabin and the boat, and about the mysterious mirror. But she mentioned nothing about the secret correspondence course. Neither did she mention the green wallet. She didn’t quite know why, but she had to keep Hilde for herself.
Her mother put her arms around Sophie, and Sophie knew that her mother believed her now.
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Sophie sniffed. “It was just something I said because you were so upset about the white rabbit.”
“And you really went all the way to the major’s cabin ...” said her mother thoughtfully.
“The major’s cabin?” Sophie stared at her mother.
“The little woodland cabin is called the major’s cabin because some years ago an army major lived there for a time. He was rather eccentric, a little crazy, I think. But never mind that. Since then the cabin has been unoccupied.”
“But it isn’t! There’s a philosopher living there now.”
“Oh stop, don’t start fantasizing again!”
Sophie stayed in her room, thinking about what had happened. Her head felt like a roaring circus full of lumbering elephants, silly clowns, daring trapeze flyers, and trained monkeys. But one image recurred unceasingly— a small rowboat with one oar drifting in a lake deep in the woods—and someone needing the boat to get home.
She felt sure that the philosophy teacher didn’t wish her any harm, and would certainly forgive her if he knew she had been to his cabin. But she had broken an agreement. That was all the thanks he got for taking on her philosophic education. How could she make up for it? Sophie took out her pink notepaper and began to write:
Dear Philosopher, It was me who was in your cabin early Sunday morning. I wanted so much to meet you and discuss some of the philosophic problems. For the moment I am a Plato fan, but I am not so sure he was right about ideas or pattern pictures existing in another reality. Of course they exist in our souls, but I think—for the moment anyway— that this is a different thing. I have to admit too that I am not altogether convinced of the immortality of the soul. Personally, I have no recollections from my former lives. If you could convince me that my deceased grandmother’s soul is happy in the world of ideas, I would be most grateful.
Actually, it was not for philosophic reasons that I started to write this letter (which I shall put in a pink envelope with a lump of sugar). I just wanted to say I was sorry for being disobedient. I tried to pull the boat completely up on shore but I was obviously not strong enough. Or perhaps a big wave dragged the boat out again.
I hope you managed to get home without getting your feet wet. If not, it might comfort you to know that I got soaked and will probably have a terrible cold. But that’ll be my own fault.
I didn’t touch anything in the cabin, but I am sorry to say that I couldn’t resist the temptation to take the envelope that was on the table. It wasn’t because I wanted to steal anything, but as my name was on it, I thought in my confusion that it belonged to me. I am really and truly sorry, and I promise never to disappoint you again.
P.S. I will think all the new questions through very carefully, starting now.
P.P.S. Is the mirror with the brass frame above the white chest of drawers an ordinary mirror or a magic mirror? I’m only asking because I am not used to seeing my own reflection wink with both eyes.
With regards from your sincerely interested pupil, SOPHIE
Sophie read the letter through twice before she put it in the envelope. She thought it was less formal than the previous letter she had written. Before she went downstairs to the kitchen to get a lump of sugar she looked at the note with the day’s questions:
“What came first—the chicken or the “idea” chicken?
