The Middle Moffat (2 page)

"I'm Jane, the middle Moffat," she said.

Clara's only response to this was a prolonged stare. Then she started to back up the street. She pulled Brud along the sidewalk backward so she could watch Jane. She watched Jane all the way up the street, even forgetting her lollipop. So did Brud. In fact, they watched so hard Brud nearly fell out of his wagon when Clara stumbled over a root that jutted up under the sidewalk. When they reached the corner, they stopped and watched Jane some more. Then slowly they disappeared from sight around Pleasant Street. As they disappeared from sight, Jane suddenly shouted after them:

"Jane, the middle Moffat!"

This caused the two Pringles to return to the corner (they really had not gone very far) and to sit in their express wagon, where they watched Jane for a long, long time.

Jane wondered what was the matter. Didn't they like the sound of middle Moffat? However, you couldn't tell with just one person. She would try it on somebody else.

Where were all the other neighbors? My, this was a quiet street. It was a little short street, and it didn't have any other children on it at all. Just the Moffats. Some children might move into the big house which had just been built next door. And of course there were two girls, named Nancy and Beatrice Stokes, who lived in the big house in back of the Moffats. But right now they were still away on their vacation. Jane wished they'd come back.

But at last here came somebody else. It was the letter man! He hadn't brought the Moffats one single letter since they'd lived here. Perhaps he didn't know there was a house here. The Moffats' house was set so far back from the street, he might never have noticed it. Their front porch began where other people's back porch ended. The letter

man might have the idea that their lawn was just a nice little park or even an empty lot!

Besides telling the letter man that she was the middle Moffat, she would call his attention to this house of theirs. When he was right in front of this long green lawn she would stop him and make sure that he saw the little white house, a toy house, at the end of it. A surprise house! That's what the Moffats lived in now.

The nearer the letter man came, the nearer the Pringles inched their way back toward Jane. They wished to watch her from a little closer range.

Now the letter man was here.

"Hello," said Jane. "Any letters for the Moffats? We live here now. We don't live on New Dollar Street anymore." But before she had a chance to add, "I'm Jane, the middle Moffat," he had shaken his head and said, "No. Not today," and tramped rapidly on, his leathery, weather-beaten face absorbed in finding the right letter in his pack for the next house.

And as the letter man disappeared in one direction, Clara Pringle slowly shoved Brud along in the other. She was sitting in the back of the wagon herself now, pushing with her foot and making Bruddie steer. And now they really vanished from sight around the corner. Jane was all alone again.

An ant crawled over her bare leg and disappeared in a businesslike fashion down an ant hole.
Going to the middle of the earth, that's where,
thought Jane. The middle of the earth was a mysterious place like the middle of the night, and the middle of the ocean, too, where there very likely were waterspouts, whirlpools, and mermaids.

"I'm Jane, the mysterious middle Moffat," she tried.

No. What was there mysterious about her? Nothing. She certainly didn't wear a mask or go around on tiptoe saying Sh-sh-sh! like Hawkshaw, the detective. Everybody knew who she was or could very easily find out. But you'd almost think there was something mysterious about her from the way that Clara Pringle was acting. There she was, back at the corner again with Brud, watching Jane. Their lollipops were gone now. Jane was tempted to shout "mysterious middle Moffat" at Clara. But she refrained. She didn't run around pretending she was a princess in disguise. Middle? Yes. Mysterious? No.

But now, here came another person. Jane recognized him. Everybody knew him. It was Mr. Buckle, the oldest inhabitant! He was ninety-nine years old and soon he would be one hundred. A century! Jane was ten. He was almost ten times ten. Phew! He was a veteran of the Civil War. He always rode on the float in the Decoration Day parade and he sat on the stage at the Town Hall for the graduation exercises. He lived on the corner of Pleasant Street. Now he came up Ashbellows Place with his short shuffling steps and his knees bent forward a little. His face was always beaming, and from a long way off you could see his bright blue eyes and the white hair falling below his cap.

As Mr. Buckle slowly moved up the street, he paused now and then to blow cotton to the birds. He always carried around cotton for the birds, who liked to line their nests with it. He would take a small puff of cotton between thumb and forefinger and blow it delicately up into the air, turning this way and that so all the cotton would not be wafted in the same direction. He liked it when a sparrow caught a puff in the air before it floated to the ground.

Jane smoothed her dress and brushed away a strand of hair from her forehead. She was polite. She did not stare at the oldest inhabitant, but when she saw from beneath her lashes that he was near at hand, she looked up at him with a friendly and expectant smile. She was hoping he would ask her who she was. And that she wouldn't have to ask first the way she had Clara Pringle.

The oldest inhabitant stopped beside her and, leaning on his cane, he said very slowly and distinctly:

"Are you one of the Moffats?"

"Yes, Mr. Buckle," said Jane, feeling very shy before such an important man but wishing she had the courage to say she was the middle Moffat. If it sounded all right to the oldest inhabitant then it was a good thing to say, for he was Cranbury's most honored citizen.

Fortunately the oldest inhabitant continued. "Which Moffat are you?"

"I'm Jane ... the mysterious middle Moffat," Jane explained. But goodness, she had said exactly what she had meant not to say. Mysterious! It just came out, that word
mysterious.
Now! How was the oldest inhabitant going to take this?

"I see..." he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. "The mysterious middle Moffat! Well," and his head began nodding slowly up and down, "what's so mysterious about you?"

"Well, I'm not really mysterious," said Jane, feeling embarrassed. "I'm just middle."

"Yes...?" said Mr. Buckle, as though he really needed more explanation.

So Jane went on. "Middle Moffat, that's me, is not mysterious. The middle of the night is."

"The mysterious middle Moffat is not mysterious," said the oldest inhabitant thoughtfully.

"No," agreed Jane, laughing politely.

Mr. Buckle put his finger on the side of his nose the way Hawkshaw, the detective, did in the pictures, and he beamed down at her. "But the middle of the night is..." he went on.

"And the middle of the ocean," added Jane.

"But not the middle Moffat," he said. "Sh-sh-sh, this is all very mystifying."

"I didn't mean to say mysterious," said Jane. "See? It just came out."

"That's what makes the whole thing so very mysterious," said the oldest inhabitant.

Then Mr. Buckle pulled his cap down a little over his eyes. Again he put his finger on the side of his nose, and as he shuffled off, he said "Sh-sh-sh."

Jane bent over her rag rug. Now for goodness' sakes, what was the oldest inhabitant going to think of her? The Moffats had only just moved to this street and they were anxious to make a good impression.

Jane saw Mr. Buckle turn into his yard. Before going into the house he turned and played Hawkshaw once more. Jane decided to treat the whole matter as a game herself. She scrunched up her lips and said, "Sh-sh-sh," also. Then she picked up her crocheting and went into the house, leaving Clara and Brud Pringle still staring from the corner.

"Well," Jane decided, "if it hadn't been for that one word,
mysterious,
it would have sounded all right to say Jane, the middle Moffat."

She went into the dining room, where Mama was sewing on some light green crepe de chine. It was a pretty color and Jane hoped there would be a little piece left over for her to make a dress for her doll.

Jane thumbed through the little black notebook where Mama kept the measurements of all the ladies she sewed for. At the beginning of the book were the ladies she had sewn for in New York, before she came to live in Cranbury. Mama had all the measurements—hip, waist, length of sleeve, and length of skirt—for a great many elegant ladies who used to live in the Brevoort and the Berkeley.

Now she sewed for some of the ladies in Cranbury, and the last names in the book were those of the Gillespie twins. You would think because they were twins they would measure exactly the same. Not at all. There was a half inch off here, and an inch on there.

"Mama," said Jane, "is anyone coming to try on?"

"Yes, Janey," said Mama. "The Gillespie twins."

Good! The Gillespie twins! They didn't know who Jane was, and of course Mama would have to tell them. At this moment the bell rang, and Mama went to open the door. Jane followed her, saying quickly, "Mama, when you say, This is Jane,' don't end there. Say, This is Jane, the middle Moffat.'"

But she didn't know whether Mama heard her or not. Mama greeted the twins and everybody went into the dining room.

"Oh, how lovely," said one of the twins. "Mrs. Moffat, you are a wonder to have thought of dressing us in pale green. With our red hair, imagine that Mrs. Weaver dressing us in pink!"

"Your hair is lovely. You should always wear green and lavender," said Mama decidedly. She knew because she had sewn for all the elegant ladies in the little black notebook.

Jane felt proud of Mama. She picked up her thimble, which had rolled under the table. When she came up, Mama put her arm around her shoulders and said to the twins:

"This is Jane, the middle Moffat."

"Oh," they said. "Hello, Jane."

Jane smiled and then she went out of the house through the kitchen to the backyard. It sounded good the way Mama had said it. And she hadn't made any mistake, either, like adding the word
mysterious.
If only the oldest inhabitant would remember the middle part and forget the mysterious part.