The Anything Box

to his feet and beating his rumpled clothing, he possessed dignity and
strength that made her deeply thankful that he was the voice of Earth in this
time of crisis.
One by one the others crawled under, the Linjeni sandwiched between the
other men and Thorn bringing up the rear. Motioning silence, she led them to
the thicket of bushes that screened one side of the goldfish pond.
Doovie and Splinter were leaning over the edge of the pond.
'There it is!' cried Splinter, leaning perilously and pointing. 'Way down
there on the bottom and it's my best marble. Would your Mommie care if you got
it for me?'
Doovie peered down. 'Marble go in water.'
'That's what I said,' cried Splinter impatiently. 'And you can shut your
nose …' he put his finger to the black, glistening button '. , . and fold
your ears,' he flicked them with his forefinger and watched them fold. 'Gee!'
he said admiringly. 'I wish I could do that.'
'Doovie go in water?' asked Doovie.
'Yes,' nodded Splinter. 'It's my good taw, and you won't even have to put
on swimming trunks—you got fur.'
Doovie shucked out of his brief clothing and slid down into the pond. He
bobbed back up, his hand clenched.
'Gee, thanks.' Splinter held out his hand and Doovie carefully turned his
hand over and Splinter closed his. Then he shrieked and flung his hand out.
'You mean old thing!' yelled Splinter. 'Give me my marble! That was a slippy
old fish!' he leaned over, scuffling, trying to reach Doovie's other hand.
There was a slither and a splash and Splinter and Doovie disappeared under the
water.
Serena caught her breath and had started forward when Doovie's anxious face
bobbed to the surface again. He yanked and tugged at the sputtering, coughing
Splinter and tumbled him out onto the grass. Doovie squatted by Splinter,
patting his back and alternately whistling dolefully through his nose and
talking apologetic-sounding Linjeni.
Splinter coughed and dug his fists into his eyes.
'Golly, golly!' he said, spatting his hands against his wet jersey.
'Mommie'll sure be mad. My clean clothes all wet. Where's my marble, Doovie?'
Doovie scrambled to his feet and went back to the pond. Splinter started to
follow, then he cried. 'Oh, Doovie, where did that poor little fish go? It'll
die if it's out of the water. My guppy did.'
'Fish?' asked Doovie.
'Yes,' said Splinter, holding out his hand as he searched the grass with
intent eyes. 'The slippy little fish that wasn't my marble.'
The two youngsters scrambled around in the grass until Doovie whistled and
cried out triumphantly, 'Fish!' and scooped it up in his hands and rushed it
back to the pond.
'There,' said Splinter. 'Now it won't die. Looky, it's swimming away!'
Doovie slid into the pond again and retrieved the lost marble.
'Now,' said Splinter. 'Watch me and I'll show you how to shoot.'
The bushes beyond the two absorbed boys parted and Mrs. Pink stepped out.
She smiled at the children and then she saw the silent group on the other side
of the clearing. Her eyes widened and she gave an astonished whistle. The two
boys looked up and followed the direction of her eyes.
'Daddy!' yelled Splinter. 'Did you come to play?' And he sped, arms
outstretched, to Thorn, arriving only a couple of steps ahead of Doovie who
was whistling excitedly and rushing to greet the tall lavender Linjeni.
Serena felt a sudden choke of laughter at how alike Thorn and the Linjeni
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looked, trying to greet their offspring adequately and still retain theirdignity.
Mrs. Pink came hesitantly to the group to stand in the circle of Serena'sarm. Splinter had swarmed up Thorn, hugged him with thoroughness and slid downagain. 'Hi, General Worsham!' he said, extending a muddy hand in a belatedremembrance of his manners. 'Hey, Daddy, I'm showing Doovie how to playmarbles, but you can shoot better'n I can. You come show him how.'
'Well—' said Thorn, glancing uncomfortably at General Worsham.
General Worsham was watching the Linjeni as Doovie whistled and fluted overa handful of bright-colored glassies. He quirked an eyebrow at Thorn and thenat the rest of the group.
'I suggest a recess,' he said. 'In order that we may examine new mattersthat have been brought to our attention.'
Serena felt herself getting all hollow inside, and she turned her face awayso Mrs. Pink wouldn't see her cry. But Mrs. Pink was too interested in thecolorful marbles to see Serena's gathering, hopeful tears.
Something Bright
Do you remember the Depression? That black shadow across time? That hurtingplace in the consciousness of the world? Maybe not. Maybe it's like asking doyou remember the Dark Ages. Except what would I know about the price of eggsin the Dark Ages? I knew plenty about prices in the Depression.
If you had a quarter—first find your quarter—and five hungry kids, youcould supper them on two cans of soup and a loaf of day-old bread, or twoquarts of milk and a loaf of day-old bread. It was filling—in an afterthoughtykind of way—nourishing. But if you were one of the hungry five, you eventuallybegan to feel erosion set in, and your teeth ached for substance.
But to go back to eggs. Those were a precious commodity. You savored themslowly or gulped them eagerly —unmistakably as eggs—boiled or fried. That'sone reason why I remember Mrs. Klevity. She had eggs for breakfast! And everyday! That's one reason why I remember Mrs. Klevity.
I didn't know about the eggs the time she came over to see Mom, who hadjust got home from a twelve- hour day, cleaning up after other people at thirtycents an hour. Mrs. Klevity lived in the same court as we did. Courtesy calledit a court because we were all dependent on the same shower house and twotoilets that occupied the shack square in the middle of the court.
All of us except the Big House, of course. It had a bathroom of its own andeven a radio blaring 'Nobody's Business' and 'Should I Reveal' and had ceilinglights that didn't dangle nakedly at the end of a cord. But then it reallywasn't a part of the court. Only its back door shared our area, and even thatwas different. It had two back doors in the same frame—a screen one and a wooden one!
Our own two-room place had a distinction, too. It had an upstairs. One roomthe size of our two. The Man Upstairs lived up there. He was mostly only thesound of footsteps overhead and an occasional cookie for Danna.
Anyway, Mrs. Klevity came over before Mom had time to put her shopping bagof work clothes down or even to unpleat the folds of fatigue that dragged herface down ten years or more of time to come. I didn't much like Mrs. Klevity.She made me uncomfortable. She was so solid and slow-moving and so nearlyblind that she peered frighteningly wherever she went. She stood in thedoorway as though she had been stacked there like bricks and a dress drawnhastily down over the stack and a face sketched on beneath a fuzz of hair. Uskids all gathered around to watch, except Danna who snuffled wearily into myneck. Day nursery or not, it was a long, hard day for a four- year-old.
'I wondered if one of your girls could sleep at my house this week.' Hervoice was as slow as her steps.