He’d never been to school ever. “You don’t know how lucky you are, Molly,” he had told her. “Where I come from, some children can’t even read. Don’t you want to get more and more clever? Don’t you want to know things?” Molly did, but she didn’t want a teacher having anything to do with it. All the teachers she’d ever known had been small-minded and mean. “I’d rather teach myself and learn straight from the world,” she’d said.
Molly was a straight talker, but there was one thing that she had kept secret from everyone at Briersville Park. She sat on the secret like a chicken on an uncomfortable egg.
On her trip to the future, Molly had discovered that she had developed a new skill. But it wasn’t a skill that she could ever tell her friends and family about. For Molly’s newest skill was
Imagine if your friends could read your mind! You might start to avoid seeing them, for you might worry that they’d see something in your mind that you didn’t want them to see. Even though Molly had decided not to use her newfound powers on her family and friends, she knew that, if they knew what she could do, they might start to mistrust her. They might assume that she was probing into their heads to see their thoughts. And so Molly had decided to keep sitting on her spiky egg of a secret.
Of course this didn’t stop Molly from looking into other people’s minds. Maybe Molly would have a little look into the tutor’s head when she arrived and see what she was
To the left of the attic-room window, Molly saw white lights twinkling far away at the gate lodge. A car began to make its way along the dark drive.
With Lucy and Primo stuck in a traffic jam, Molly, Micky, and Rocky found themselves being hosts, looking after their guest, their new tutor, Miss Hunroe.
It all began a little strangely for Miss Hunroe. For Todson, the new butler (who preferred to be called plain Todson), had forgotton to put Cornelius Logan away in his stall for the night. Cornelius was Molly’s uncle. He too had hypnotic powers, but he had used his hypnotism for bad ends. Molly had been forced to hypnotize him into thinking he was a lamb and then lock that hypnotism in, so that he wouldn’t revert to his bad ways. Cornelius was harmless as a lamb and spent the afternoons with the llamas in the front field, eating grass and running about. Todson looked after him, bringing him his meals and in the evenings putting him to bed. But tonight Cornelius hadn’t been put away.
Bristling with excitement, Cornelius came trotting into the sitting room where Rocky, Molly, and Micky were giving Miss Hunroe a cup of tea.
Before anyone could do anything about it, Cornelius was kicking his legs. He knocked over a table, upset a vase of flowers, and leaped excitedly onto a sofa. Then he ran around and around the chair where Miss Hunroe was sitting, finally lying down at her feet like a pet.
“Er, sorry about him,” Molly said. “He’s my, um, uncle. He’s not quite right in the head. He was in a special home,” she lied, “but we brought him back to live here. Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you.”
“He seems to like you a lot,” said Rocky, wiping his nose.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Miss Hunroe replied. “He’s sweet!”
And so Cornelius sat at Miss Hunroe’s feet until she went upstairs to change for dinner.
The round-tabled dining room was being used that night. Todson had brought out all the Georgian silver and polished it. Every place had two knives, three forks, and two spoons, with a bird-shaped name card–holder perched next to each person’s water glass. Two tall, eight-armed candelabras stood proudly between the shiny pepper mills and the salt and mustard pots. The candles were lit, and a stack of wood burned in the grand fireplace so that the room danced with orange light and the faces in the old gilt-framed portraits on the walls flickered and moved as if coming to life.
“Well, isn’t this lovely!” exclaimed Miss Hunroe as Todson helped her into her chair. “And something smells delicious.”
“That’s a relief,” said Todson, grunting. “New cook.”
Molly looked around the table. Everyone had made an effort tonight. Forest had gotten home and was sitting on the other side of Miss Hunroe in a bright lime-colored sweater and a smart woolen green sarong with pineapples on it. His long, dreadlocked gray hair was tied in a braid. And he had a jungly bandana tied around his forehead. Micky sat beside her in a proper tailored turquoise blue shirt, opposite Rocky, who sat shivering in a thick navy coat. Molly was wearing a clean T-shirt. Her hair was fairly detangled, as she’d spent twenty minutes attacking it with a comb. Todson stood behind each in his smart butler’s uniform, holding the soup tureen for everyone to ladle themselves helpings of carrot soup.
“You smell of flowers or somethin’,” said Forest, obviously enamored by the beautiful new tutor. “Is it, like, um, narcissus?”
“No, it’s rose,” Miss Hunroe corrected him, smiling a pearl-toothed smile. “But good try.”
“I’m really sorry,” said Rocky, suddenly pushing back his chair, almost upsetting the soup tureen all over Todson. “Oh, I’m sorry, Todson. I’ve got to go to bed, you see. I feel terrible.”
“I’ve lost my glasses,” said Todson. “But I can still detect, Master Scarlet, that you look somewhat worse for wear. I’ll bring you some hot water bottles and a mug of hot lemon and honey.”
“Thanks, Todson.” Quietly Rocky plodded out of the room.
“It’s this terrible flu,” said Miss Hunroe. “People are falling like flies from it.” Outside, the wind battered the windowpane. Todson went around the table with a basket of bread. When he came to Forest, he tripped on the edge of the rug. Four pieces of white bread flew past Forest’s shoulder into his soup.
“Erm, so sorry, sir, lost my glasses,” muttered Todson. “I’ll get some more bread.” But Forest was so enchanted by Miss Hunroe that he didn’t notice.
“Yes, the flu, man, it’s bad,” he agreed. “It’s this weather. All this damp air. Not nice ’n’ warm like LA. If only we could control the weather, then we’d have far less of this kinda thing. I mean, peace to all creatures, man, but it would be kinda cool to stamp out the flu bug population.”
A small smile played on Miss Hunroe’s rose-shaped red lips, and then they twitched as though she was about to laugh but was controlling herself. She seemed to have a good sense of humor.
Molly couldn’t resist. She knew it was nosy and she shouldn’t probe, but she wanted to take a little look and see what their new teacher was thinking. No one would know she was doing it. No one would be able to point a finger at Molly and complain. Molly felt like a thief about to steal something, for she knew Miss Hunroe’s thoughts were her own; they weren’t for Molly to share. Yet Molly was determined to learn a little more about Miss Hunroe.
With butterflies in her stomach from the excitement of it, Molly focused her mind. She silently thought a question to their tutor, What are you thinking? Immediately, one of the hazy bubbles that always appeared when Molly wanted to know someone’s thoughts popped up over Miss Hunroe’s head. In it were pictures—various images that merged as Miss Hunroe’s mind wandered and flitted about. First Forest’s soup bowl, full of bread, shimmered into view.
“Yes, it is dreadful,” Miss Hunroe agreed. “The flu has no mercy. It forces people to bed for days and days. No mercy.” Then she laughed. “And I’d love to be able to control the weather, too. What a charming idea!” Above her head the bubble filled with a moving picture of Miss Hunroe standing on a hilltop with tall, teardrop-shaped stones all about her. She had a baton in her hand, and above her the sky flashed with lightning as she conducted the weather. “It would be fun, don’t you think, Molly?”
“Er, yes,” Molly stammered, feeling as if she’d been caught looking through a keyhole. She let the bubble above Miss Hunroe’s head pop. “Yes, um, snow and blizzards one moment, hot sun the next.” Molly nodded with a smile. “And it would be nice to make it rain in countries where they have droughts.”
Miss Hunroe leaned toward the table and sipped her soup elegantly from her spoon. Opposite her, Forest slurped.
“Man, this soup is very, er, bready! Must be a new recipe.”
And so the meal went on, a little stilted as everyone was on best behavior with the stranger in the house. But Miss Hunroe was good-natured, and as the minutes ticked by, the ice melted.
“So what are your plans for our education?” Micky asked as Miss Hunroe passed the peas to Forest. “I’m very good at physics,” he added matter-of-factly. “Well, I’m good at
