Copyright © 2011 by Chris Bartal
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Prologue
It was not the kind of place a normal kid would want to live in. The dilapidated old house stared out from under the branches of overgrown trees; no one had lived in it for ages. Houses in horror movies looked safer than this one. Everyone knows you should never even think about going inside a house like this, but now it was Oliver’s new home. He shuddered at the thought.
Three weeks ago Mr. Dobbins, Oliver's father, called a family meeting. It was the first time Oliver had learned he was going to move.
"I have some exciting news," Mr. Dobbins began, rubbing his hands together with enthusiasm. "I’ve decided to transfer from Burlington to New Devonshire for the bank.”
Disappointment welled up like bile in the back of Oliver’s throat. The bank kept his dad away on business all the time, and when he was home, he worked long hours.
"Oh, Dad," complained Marie, "why didn't you talk to us about it first? It's so far away."
"Why should he care what we think?" said Philip irritably.
"Stop being so melodramatic," said Mrs. Dobbins.
"Well, it's settled then?" said Mr. Dobbins, oblivious to his children’s objections. "Mother and I are going to look at houses this weekend."
Oliver kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to move, but he knew it was pointless to argue with his dad. Besides, Mr. Dobbins had already gotten up to read a book, and Oliver wouldn’t be able to interrupt him even if he marched into the library banging cymbals.
"Well, that's just great," Philip muttered as Mr. Dobbins wandered down the hall. "He can't just wait two years for me to finish high school?"
"Philip, everything is not about you," said Mrs. Dobbins.
Philip stomped upstairs to his bedroom and slammed the door. Marie sat on the sofa looking as if she might cry, and Oliver went unnoticed.
After the family meeting, Mr. and Mrs. Dobbins had found a new house, sold their old house, and packed everything into boxes. Oliver was sad to say goodbye to his friends from school, but he was a little glad to be leaving Aunt Gwendolyn behind. She lived in Burlington, too, which was not far enough away if you asked Oliver. She was a bit strange, to say the least.
Having never been married, Aunt Gwen was the only relative who was ever available to babysit the kids when Mr. and Mrs. Dobbins went away. And when they were looking at houses, she had been the one to stay with the children. Philip called her ‘Crazy Aunt Gwen’ behind her back, partly because she kept about seventeen cats and partly because she believed gnomes were planning to take over her garden. Aunt Gwen kept the seventeen cats to keep the gnomes away and to keep her company. But of course having seventeen cats didn't really help her make many new friends.
During her last stay she had outlined her plan for the device she was building to trap the gnomes. Apparently, they had been stealing vegetables from her garden.
"Couldn't it have been rabbits?" asked Oliver hoping to change the subject.
"Don't you think I know the difference between gnomes and rabbits?" she snapped.
Oliver wasn't sure that she did, but his mother had told him to be especially nice after Aunt Gwen's visit to Happydale Inn Sanitarium. So he didn’t say anything.
"Anyway," she continued, "I've camouflaged the traps with leaves and branches. I should have caught some by the time I return home on Sunday."
"Have you ever seen these gnomes?" asked Philip, always ready to get Aunt Gwendolyn started on her rambling.
"Good grief, child,” she said, "haven't I told you the story?" Marie rolled her eyes, and Philip snickered as Aunt Gwen began to recount the very familiar story once more while preparing their supper.
"When I was about Oliver's age, our family went on vacation to England to visit some relatives. Our relatives lived far out in the countryside, and there were no young children for miles, but they did have an old tree house. Your mother and I were playing in the tree house in an old rowan growing in the garden. We heard some voices and thought it would be fun to spy on the adults. Only the voices we heard didn’t belong to our family. When we looked out of the balcony, we could see no one, but we could still hear voices. Suddenly a little door opened in the side of the tree and a tiny man started tossing carrots into the tree house. When he saw us, he slammed the door shut, and we heard nothing else even though we waited a long time."
"That sounds like the Keebler elves, Aunt Gwen," Philip said.
"Don't be ridiculous," she said, "elves are much larger and they make toys, not cookies."
"Well, maybe it was fairies or leprechauns," suggested Marie.
"I can see that you think this is a big joke," she said indignantly. "Well, you kids can get your own dinner.” She flung aside a large wooden spoon, and it clattered as it hit the sink. “I'm going for a walk."
"Can I come, too?" Oliver asked, immediately wishing he hadn’t. He didn't really want to hear any more about gnomes, but he was sorry his aunt's feelings were hurt.
"I suppose," she said, "if you'll keep quiet."
Oliver did as he was told, and Aunt Gwendolyn continued her story. "Your mother and I inspected the tree house to see if we could find anything else, but all we found was little piles of vegetables. That's a telltale sign of gnomes, Oliver. We were going to pry open the door in the tree, but we couldn't even find it again. Eventually we went in and told the adults, who found our story very entertaining. But later that night my great-grandmother, your great-great-grandmother, pulled me aside by her overstuffed chair.
"Them's gnomes you saw, girl," she said. "Watch out for 'em. They steals whatever they can gets their paws on. Lock your house good an' tight, or you never know what might be missing."
"I tried to ask her more, but when the other adults came into the room, she wouldn't say anything else. Years later your mother thought we had probably just imagined it, but I was your age, and I know what I saw." Oliver still didn't say anything. "We'd best be heading back," Aunt Gwen said. When they got home, nobody said another word about gnomes.
Chapter 1
Mr. Dobbins turned the car down an old deserted lane and cheerfully announced, "Here we are!"
Oliver felt anything but cheerful as the car passed a huge rusty iron gate and drew close to the house, which, if you remember, was very old. It was decidedly Victorian and must have been magnificent at one time. But not now. He tried to suppress the dread he felt in the pit of his stomach. This place gave him the willies. The yard was overrun with fierce entanglements of weeds and wild rosebushes, and more gray paint lay flaked off on the ground than remained on the sides of the house.
"It sure is a fixer-upper," Philip observed. Oliver thought his older brother looked a bit pale. Marie’s lower lip began to quiver when Mr. Dobbins said, "All right then, let's get to work." He hopped out of the car, assigned everyone a job, and thrust a bucket and mop into Marie’s hands.
"Don't we get a tour first?" asked Marie, overwhelmed at the prospect of helping Mother clean the enormous house and large attic.
“That’s right! I almost forgot,” said Mr. Dobbins. He took them all around the house and showed them their own rooms. Oliver was pleased, at first, when he discovered that he and Philip no longer had to share a room. His brother was not the best roommate and was constantly rummaging through Oliver’s drawers.
After going through the house, filthy from years of neglect, Mr. Dobbins walked them around the expansive property including a carriage house and a potting shed.
"Wow, look at the size of this yard," Philip said.
"I'm glad you like it, Philip," said Mr. Dobbins. "It will be your job to mow it."
"Ohhh," groaned Philip.
A fence enclosed a small area outside the kitchen window. "Is that for a dog?" asked Oliver. He had always wanted a pet.
"No, no," chuckled Mr. Dobbins, "that’s for our kitchen garden. We'll grow some herbs and vegetables there in the spring." Oliver preferred a dog, but he didn't object.
"Everybody hop to it," said Mr. Dobbins. "We've only got a few hours before the moving van is supposed to arrive."
Mrs. Dobbins and Marie cleaned the house while Oliver, Philip, and their father removed all of the old furniture. Mr. Dobbins had rented a dumpster for all of the garbage the previous occupants had left behind. Everyone kept sneezing from the dust and the cobwebs. Oliver was getting tired from carrying the heavy furniture out to the carriage house, but Mr. Dobbins was too engrossed in moving to notice. Philip kept making silly faces behind his father’s back, and Oliver couldn't help but laugh until his dad yelled at him to get busy.
They were nowhere near finished when the moving van arrived. The Ace Moving Company was not known for their competency at moving things carefully. Instead, Mr. Dobbins had selected them because of their competitive pricing. Unfortunately a few things were broken in transit including some of Oliver's model rockets.
“Just look at these plates,” Mrs. Dobbins cried. The movers had dropped a box marked 'fragile.’ “These were my grandmother’s.”
When she complained to the movers, they gave her a form to fill out. Mrs. Dobbins brought the matter to her husband. He tried to console her, but the move, the house, and the damaged plates were too much for her. She went upstairs and locked herself inside the master bedroom.
Oliver considered barricading himself in his bedroom with all his broken models, but he knew he would just end up getting in trouble, so he kept working.
After the movers had gone and it was time for supper, Marie took a break from cleaning the kitchen cabinets to fix some hot dogs.
“I’ve never used this kind of stove,” Marie said. She turned some knobs, but nothing happened. This was the first time she had ever tried to cook in Oliver's recollection. The giant gas stove looked original to the house.
“Dad, how does this work?” Marie called. “I think the gas is on, but I can't figure out how to get the burner to light.” She went to ask her father, who explained how to light the pilot.
“Can I light it?” Oliver asked.
"Don't be silly, Oliver," she said. "This is something for grown-ups. Just stay back," Marie said.
"It smells funny," said Oliver.
"That's the gas," Marie said. "It needs to be on to light the burner."
"Are you sure?" said Oliver.
"Will you just let me handle this?" Marie said. She got the matches and started striking them on the box. Finally one caught fire and she leaned over to light the burner. There was a small explosion and a blast of warm air.
"Whew, that was close," said Marie. "I thought the whole house might go up in flames for a second."
"We should be so lucky," muttered Philip.
Marie looked very surprised, but she seemed okay. Mr. Dobbins peeked his head in the door, “Everything all right in here?” he asked. “Marie, what happened?”
“Just lighting the burner. We’re okay.”
“No, I mean your eyebrows.”
“What about them?” Marie said looking even more surprised, if that were possible.
“They’re gone,” Mr. Dobbins said.
“Let me see,” said Philip examining Marie’s forehead closely. “Oh, man! It’s too bad you’re not allowed to wear makeup until you’re 14.”
“Philip!” cried Marie. “Is it that bad?” She looked at her dad. His face confirmed her fear. Marie choked on a sob and ran out of the kitchen with her face in her hands.
“It’s not that bad,” Mr. Dobbins called half-heartedly after her.
“Maybe you’ll start a fashion trend at our new school on Monday,” Philip chimed in.
Marie sobbed again and slammed her bedroom door.
“Well, it looks as if it’s just the men tonight,” Mr. Dobbins observed with a sigh.
Mr. Dobbins finished making the hotdogs. Philip made toast since there were no hotdog buns, and Oliver poured the drinks. They took some food up to the ladies after they’d finished eating.
Oliver knocked on his parents’ bedroom door. “Mom, we made you some dinner.”
“Thanks, Oliver. Just a minute.” She came over to the door, turned the handle and pulled. There was a dull thud, and the doorknob was rolling in a circle on the floor.
“Oliver, this door won’t open. The handle came off when I pulled it. How do you fix these things?”
“The screw probably fell out of the knob,” he said. “Try putting the handle back through the hole.” Oliver picked up the knob and put it back with Mrs. Dobbins’ half. Sure enough, a screw was missing. “Wait a minute while I look for the screw.”
Marie, smelling the food and hearing Oliver scraping around on the floor, poked her head out of her room to see what was happening.
“Mom’s stuck in her room,” Oliver said. “I’m trying to find the missing screw for the door handle.”
“There it is,” said Marie spotting it on the dusty wooden floor. She picked it up and handed it to Oliver.
Oliver always carried a Swiss Army knife, except at school. He tightened the screw in the doorknob. “Try it now, Mom,” he said.
The knob turned, and the door slowly opened.
“Thanks, Sweetie,” she said, and gave Oliver a hug. “It’s been a very long day. Why do you look so surprised, Marie?”
Marie started to cry again as Oliver explained what had happened in the kitchen.
“Don’t worry.” Mrs. Dobbins hugged Marie. “We’ll think of something before you start school Monday.”
After eating, Mrs. Dobbins helped the children arrange their rooms for the evening. Everyone was much too tired to unpack everything.
Darkness had crept into the house by the time they unpacked Oliver’s room. Not only was it dark outside, but the small light fixtures on the ceiling cast some ominous shadows on the faded old wallpaper.
“Well,” said Mrs. Dobbins, “are you glad to finally have your own room?”
“I was at first,” Oliver glanced uncertainly at the faded wallpaper and the cracked plaster overhead. “But I suppose I’ll miss having Philip around.”
“Don’t be a baby, Oliver,” Philip said as he walked into the room. “Mom, could you help me fix the curtains?”
“Well, if you get scared, Philip, you can come to my room,” Oliver shot back.
“Boys, boys,” said Mrs. Dobbins. “Fine, Philip, I’ll put them up, but I’m not finished here. I’ll be right back, Oliver.”
Oliver hated unpacking, but it wasn’t as bad as packing everything up to move. His large room looked pretty bare, and he had hardly any furniture. He had a bed and dresser for his clothes, and that was all.
Mrs. Dobbins promised to get him a bookcase and desk since Philip had called dibs on the furniture they had shared. Oliver didn’t really care, except he no longer had a table to work on his models.
Oliver had put most of his clothes away when he saw a shadow dart across the floor. He watched it slip into the closet. He went over and pulled the string to the light that hung in the darkened closet, but the bulb had burned out. Oliver looked around and spotted a hole in the back corner. He didn’t really mind mice so long as they didn’t chew up his stuff. In fact he thought it might be fun to try and catch one and make it a pet. But not tonight.
Mrs. Dobbins returned, hung the rest of the pictures on the walls, and helped Oliver make his bed. “Would you like a nightlight, Oliver?” she asked.
“No thanks,” Oliver said, “I’d rather not see anything. You can’t be afraid of what you don’t see.” Oliver didn’t like Philip calling him a baby, and he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking for a nightlight.
“Well, it looks like you’re set for tonight,” Mrs. Dobbins said. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth. Sleep tight.”
“Good night, Mom,” Oliver said. He wondered what it would be like living in this strange old place. He hadn’t even seen all of it yet. Tomorrow he would explore the cellar.
Chapter 2
Oliver awoke to the smell of bacon and eggs. He dressed quickly and went downstairs. Everyone else was seated around the kitchen table.
“And how did you sleep, Oliver?” Mr. Dobbins asked.
“Oh, I slept pretty well. You look tired, Philip.”
“There are a lot of strange noises around here,” Philip mumbled.
“Oh, come on, Philip,” Mr. Dobbins said, “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“Who said I was afraid?” Philip demanded. “It was just too noisy to sleep, and water kept dripping on my head.”
“Hmm,” said Mr. Dobbins. “I suppose I had better call someone about the roof.”
Philip ate the rest of his breakfast with a scowl.
Mrs. Dobbins had obviously allowed Marie to use some of her makeup today. Oliver had never seen someone smiling with “angry” eyebrows before, but that’s how Marie looked. He didn’t offer any comment since it was her first attempt at makeup. Besides, Marie was usually nice to him.
“I suppose since it’s raining we don’t need to work in the yard today,” Mr. Dobbins said. “I was really hoping to get it cleared up out there. It’s terribly overgrown.”
“Yeah, it’s a shame,” Philip said sarcastically.
“Well, if it means that much to you, I suppose we could cut down some dead limbs,” Mr. Dobbins suggested.
“No, no. It would probably just tear up the lawn,” Philip said quickly.
“I suppose you’re right,” said Mr. Dobbins, “Anyway, I’ve got more paperwork to do at the bank.”
“Do you have to, Dear?” Mrs. Dobbins said.
“It really must be done some time today, but you could come with me to check out New Devonshire.”
The children finished cleaning up the kitchen. Oliver wanted to hurry so he could explore the house. He was convinced it concealed some secrets. Philip was too busy tormenting Marie about her eyebrows to be much help. If she had looked angry before, now she looked positively furious. Oliver did most of the work while they were bickering, which is probably why it took almost an hour. The new house did not have a dishwasher. And, as Mr. Dobbins said, with three children, they had all the dishwashers they needed.
Oliver ran upstairs after cleaning up and finished his morning routine. Every day Oliver would get up, eat, brush his teeth, get dressed, make his bed, and comb his hair. In that order. Oliver always did things in the order he thought made the most sense. For instance, Oliver would not brush his teeth after he got dressed in case he got toothpaste on his shirt. And he would not brush his teeth before he ate because the first few bites of breakfast would taste all minty.
The first thing Oliver wanted to do today was check out the basement. He wanted to see if there might be some animals living down there. Since the house was very old, the cellar was not only very dark (lit by a single bulb dangling from the ceiling), but it smelled like a moldy pile of leaves.
He soon discovered there were two ways to get in the cellar. The first way, which Oliver thought the best, was through the back of the kitchen pantry. The other way was through a set of metal doors, like a bulkhead, set into the ground outside of the house. These Oliver discovered when he went up a second set of stairs in the cellar. Oliver brought a flashlight down and started searching for anything interesting in the dark recesses of the basement
There was a mound of old potatoes, but it didn’t look as if any animals were eating them. He saw a box set in the wall with two ropes running straight up. Oliver poked his head inside and shined the flashlight towards the top of the hole. He had read about dumbwaiters before, but he had never seen one in person.
It looked like it was almost big enough to hold a kid Oliver’s size. Oliver wasn’t about to see if he would fit. Once he got his head stuck between two stairway spindles, and he’d been a bit claustrophobic ever since.
He went back upstairs tracing the path where he thought the ropes led. There was another port in the pantry. Oliver opened the door and found that he could get the dumbwaiter into the pantry by pulling the ropes.
“Hey, Philip!” Oliver yelled. “Take a look at this.”
“What is it?” Philip called back.
“Come see.”
Philip and Marie both peered into the pantry, and Oliver showed them the dumbwaiter. “It goes to the basement,” he said.
“That’s just a dumbwaiter,” said Philip. “People used them all the time in old houses. You can get food from the basement to the kitchen.”
“I know,” said Oliver.
Philip and Marie were not much impressed, and they resumed insulting each other once again. Oliver spent a good while playing with the dumbwaiter and some of the old potatoes in the cellar. He went to the living room after he got bored.
The room was very drab. There was still a lot of dust since Mrs. Dobbins and Marie never finished cleaning it. Oliver looked out one of the stately front windows, and it was still raining steadily. A massive stone fireplace dominated one wall, and there were built-in bookcases flanking it on either side. Oliver imagined Mrs. Dobbins would fill them with knick-knacks before Mr. Dobbins could unload some of his extensive book collection.
Mr. Dobbins was a self-proclaimed bibliophile, and Oliver sometimes wondered if he preferred books to people. He’d purchase a first edition of almost any book no matter the cost, much to Mrs. Dobbins’s chagrin. At least Mr. Dobbins could fit most of his books into the library off the back hallway.
Oliver carefully examined the fireplace and bookshelves, but he didn’t find any secret compartments. He felt certain that a house this large and old had to have a secret compartment somewhere. He found a keyhole, and he showed it to Marie. Marie explained it was to turn on the gas for the fireplace and told him not to mess with it. Oliver had no desire to lose his eyebrows, so he left it alone. When his stomach growled, reminding him it was lunch time, Oliver temporarily abandoned his search.
Mr. and Mrs. Dobbins were still not back, so Oliver went to see what the other two wanted to do for lunch. He found Philip unpacking more of his things and arranging them in his bedroom.
“Oh, there you are,” said Philip. “I could’ve used a hand moving my bed earlier. I had it under the window, but it was too drafty and the dripping water was driving me crazy. Whatever you do, don’t touch my stuff, Lumpy.”
“Don’t call me, Lumpy,” Oliver said. He hated being called Lumpy, especially because he was not fat. Philip said it on purpose to annoy him. Oliver wished he had a better comeback, but he was never able to think of one. So he went to look for Marie instead. Philip could move his own stuff.
“Remember, Lumpy,” Philip called after him, “No touchy!”
Marie’s room was all decorated in pink. She wanted to be a ballerina, even though she’d never taken a single lesson. Her room had a big painting of ballerinas on the mantel over the fireplace.
“I wish my room had a fireplace,” Oliver said.
“Well,” said Marie, “I’m not trading you rooms.”
“I wouldn’t want pink walls,” said Oliver. “By the way, when are we going to eat lunch?”
“Aren’t Mom and Dad back yet?” she said glancing at her watch. “I suppose we could eat without them.”
“Let’s hurry,” Oliver said. “I’ve got a lot of things to do.”
“Like what?” said Marie. “Your room’s all done, and Dad hasn’t given you any chores.”
“I haven’t explored the entire house yet,” Oliver said.
“For goodness’ sake, Oliver, what would you want to go and do that for? This place is creepy. I’ve already seen more than I want to. The sooner I can go somewhere else the better. I was thinking of asking Mom to take us to the library this afternoon. You can tell a lot about a town from its library.”
“I’m sure you can,” Oliver said, “but let’s eat now.”
“All right,” sighed Marie.
“And,” Oliver added, “let’s not tell Philip. He can get his own lunch.” Oliver wasn’t ready to forgive Philip for calling him names just yet.
It was too late, though. Philip had the uncanny ability to sense if someone was discussing food or eating, and he followed them to the kitchen. Mrs. Dobbins had not stocked any food yet, and the cupboards were still pretty empty. Philip did find some carrots in one cupboard and some bread, peanut butter, and honey.
It wasn’t much of a lunch, but Oliver just wanted to take the edge off his hunger so he could keep exploring. After he ate, Oliver continued checking out the house until about 2:00 when his parents finally came home. He figured he had covered the entire house, except for the attic, and he hadn’t discovered anything unusual at all.
“What took you so long?” he demanded when his parents returned.
“We had errands to run,” Mrs. Dobbins said. She and Mr. Dobbins had brought in several sacks of groceries. “Why don’t you help us put these away?” she said handing him a sack. Oliver noticed that she had purchased lots of vegetables including his least favorite food ever, spinach. This was one reason Oliver wished they had a dog. Dogs would eat anything you didn’t want if you put it under the table.
Soon everything was put away in the large cupboards. “Mom, would you take us to the library?” Marie asked. “We want to see if it’s any good.”
“Oh, Marie, I’m worn out, we’ve had a pretty busy week with the move.”
“Yes, but we haven’t even been to town yet,” she pleaded.
“Did I hear someone say library?” called Mr. Dobbins from another room. “That’s a terrific idea! I’ll take anyone who wants to go.”
Normally Marie would object. Mr. Dobbins had a tendency to lose track of time when he was reading. He was not the best person with whom to visit the library; the kids could be stuck there for hours.
One time, in Burlington, Marie and Oliver were waiting in the magazine section for their father to finish the book he was reading. The next time they looked for him he was heading out the door. By the time they got there, he had already hopped in the car and driven off, leaving them stranded. Fortunately the librarian had let them call their mother, who came to pick them up as soon as Mr. Dobbins got home with the car. Mrs. Dobbins put him in charge of dish washing that night.
Ever since that episode, Oliver and Marie were reluctant to go to the library with Mr. Dobbins. Philip usually didn’t go because he didn’t read much. But today was not a normal day. Philip was curious, Marie was desperate, and Oliver was bored, so they all were anxious to do something. Besides, it was late in the afternoon, and most libraries closed early on Saturday.
They all piled into the car and headed to town. There were lots of old pine trees along the roads. They passed the New Devonshire Elementary and Middle Schools which were on the outskirts of town. As they approached the main street, Oliver thought he spotted the high school. It turned out, however, to be an old train station.
A variety of small shops lined Broad Street, the main road through town. New Devonshire looked every bit as old as their house, Oliver thought. Especially the library. He couldn’t imagine how Old Devonshire must have looked.
There were some stone lions standing guard on the steps leading to the front door of the library. It made Oliver feel that perhaps he ought to have a very good reason for intruding. He wasn’t sure why he had come, except that he was bored. He thought that he might try to find a book about New Devonshire.
There were many rooms in the library, and it looked as if no one used any of them. Philip took one look and asked Mr. Dobbins if he could walk around town instead. Mr. Dobbins said that was fine. Marie went off in search of teen romance novels, Mr. Dobbins began talking to the librarians, and Oliver wandered around the shelves. There was no computer, so he found the card catalog instead. It was rather dusty from disuse, but he located one card with a book about New Devonshire. Amidst all the antiquated books was one that had been written only a few years ago, and it happened to be in the children’s section. The book was entitled, So What do You Want to Know About New Devonshire?, by Luggwith L. Herris. Oliver had no trouble locating it because it was much brighter and less worn than the books surrounding it. He pulled it off the shelf, selected a comfortable seat in a bay window, and began to read.
New Devonshire was founded after a small group of pioneers left Devonshire to seek their fortune in the wild territories.
This book looks a little dull, thought Oliver.
“Fascinating book, isn’t it?” a deep muffled voice interrupted Oliver’s progress.
“Um, I haven’t really got very far,” Oliver said turning to face an old gentleman with a bushy mustache and eyebrows, and very odd hair. He was wearing a tweed vest and jacket that made him appear distinguished.
“Well, trust me, it is,” he said. “I should know. I wrote it.” He chuckled to himself and seemed pleased that anyone should select it from the hundreds of other books that lined the shelves.
Oliver examined the dust jacket and found a picture of the man on the back wearing the exact same outfit and appearing no different than he did in person.
“Herris is the name,” he said, extending a large weather-beaten hand.
Oliver shook it to be polite. Although he was usually wary of strangers, he told Mr. Herris that his family was new to town.
“Well, I think that you’ll find New Devonshire is as good a town as any and probably better than some. By the way, I’m the children’s librarian. If you ever need any help, let me know. My desk is over there.” He pointed in the direction of a table stacked with books. “I’ll leave you to your reading.”
I guess I’m stuck with this book, Oliver thought. I might as well read it. Oliver started over again.
New Devonshire was founded after a small group of pioneers left Devonshire to seek their fortune in the wild territories. There were twenty-six in the original party including ten men, eight women, four gnomes, two dogs, a cow, and a goat. There were no children to begin with, but, as you know, New Devonshire has grown since then.
Oliver read the paragraph again to be sure he hadn’t misread it. This is a weird book, he thought. But Mr. Herris was peering at him over one of the stacks of books. Oliver guessed that he didn’t see too many children in this library, so he smiled at Mr. Herris and continued reading.
By all reliable accounts, the party decided upon the present location due to the rich soil and the abundance of natural springs.
The party’s leader, Hugh S. Terwilliger, wanted to name the town after himself, but everyone voted him down except his wife and the goat that he owned. That is how New Devonshire nearly became Terwilligerton, which, this author believes, would really have been a better name.
Oliver skimmed ahead.
Chapter Two – Of Gold and Gnomes
Just then, Mr. Dobbins appeared with Marie. “Time to check out. Library’s closing soon.” He had several books himself. Oliver couldn’t figure out how his dad read books so fast. But he was sure the next time they came back to the library Mr. Dobbins would be done with that stack and get another.
Oliver walked over to Mr. Herris’s desk. “Ready to check out, my boy?” he said.
Oliver nodded and handed him the book. Mr. Herris said, “You need a library card,” and he gave Oliver a form to fill out. Then they had to find Mr. Dobbins to sign it. This took a few minutes because he had already wandered over to another part of the library.
Mr. Herris finally completed the paperwork and gave Oliver his book and another one as well. Oliver started to object but decided it wasn’t worth it. He would rather just leave.
When they stepped outside, Philip was waiting by the car. “What took so long?” he asked. “I’ve been waiting here at least twenty minutes,” he said as he looked at his watch.
“Why didn’t you just come in?” said Oliver.
“That place smells like a basement, that’s why. I don’t want to get allergies.”
Oliver couldn’t really disagree with Philip about the smell, but it didn’t bother him that much. Libraries, Oliver thought, were probably filled with many secrets. He was already discovering things he hadn’t known about New Devonshire. Although, sometimes it was difficult to tell the difference between fact and fiction.
Oliver took his books up to his bedroom when they got home. It would be a while before he really felt like this was his home. This room didn’t really feel very homey. As he set the books down on his bed, he remembered that he hadn’t even looked at the second one. He picked it back up and read the title, Binomial Gnomenclature: Identifying and Classifying Gnomes.
Good grief, he thought, this guy should meet Aunt Gwen. He heard his mother calling them for dinner, so he hastily tossed the book aside and hurried downstairs.
After dinner, Oliver decided to read some more about the history of New Devonshire since he couldn’t think of anything else to do. He flipped the book open to chapter two.
Shortly after establishing a central building that served as a church and town hall, the land was divided amongst the residents. The gnomes claimed some land to the north of the town, while the rest of the party spread out on the western and southern areas.
Everyone got along very well at first. There was much work that needed to be done, so there was not much spare time. After all the homes had been constructed, the residents began clearing land for farms. The men planted fall cover crops to help prepare the ground for spring, but the gnomes decided to gather food instead of working in the fields. Most of the families thought this was an excellent idea, but Hugh Terwilliger did not. He suspected that the gnomes were up to something.
One day while the gnomes were out foraging, Hugh Terwilliger took a peek into their home looking for evidence of a plan. While searching, he became thirsty and took a drink from a cup he found on the mantel over the fireplace. When the gnomes returned home, they told everyone their cup was gone. People began to suspect that Hugh had taken it because they knew he didn’t trust the gnomes. But he was never a thief.
Hugh was shunned by the people of New Devonshire after that, and his wife and goat were not regarded highly either. Several rumors circulated about how he had buried the cup somewhere in town, but they were just rumors.
Oliver decided not to read the rest of the book. It was all pretty strange and hard to believe. He had other things to think about, like starting a new school.
Chapter 3
On Monday Oliver got up with Philip and Marie even though his bus came an hour later. He couldn’t have slept any longer if he had tried. The first day of school was always exciting, especially a completely new school.
Marie had normal-looking eyebrows since Mrs. Dobbins had helped her draw them on.
“Philip, unless you want to do dishes until Marie’s eyebrows grow back, you won’t say anything,” Mrs. Dobbins instructed.
Oliver helped Mrs. Dobbins pack lunches, and he watched Philip and Marie climb onto the bus and ride away.
“Now it’s your turn, Oliver,” Mrs. Dobbins said. “You’re practically ready. What are you going to do for the next hour?”
“I don’t know,” Oliver said. “I guess I’ll just wait.” Oliver noticed the birds flitting around outside the kitchen window. He watched as some of the bigger birds would push the smaller birds away from the best spots to peck. It reminded him of school.
There was definitely a pecking order at his last school, and Oliver was not at the top. There were lots of people who were good at sports, so Oliver never tried to do that. Instead, he liked to fix and build things. That didn’t make him very popular, and he wondered what the new school would be like.
“Good morning, Oliver.” Mr. Dobbins sat down at the breakfast table with a steaming bowl of oatmeal.
Oliver could never understand why people liked oatmeal. He hated it. Once his mother made him eat it when he was sick, and it made him throw up.
“Good morning, Dad.” Oliver watched as his father added raisins and brown sugar to his bowl, and his stomach began to turn.
“Are you ready for your first day of school?” Mr. Dobbins asked.
“I think so,” Oliver replied.
“Well, see you later.” Mr. Dobbins got up as he finished his bowl and left for his first official day at his new job.
The fog was so thick it seemed to ooze into the house from the cracks in the siding, and Oliver couldn’t see the end of the driveway from the front window. He said ‘goodbye’ to his mother and walked out to the mailbox when it was almost time for his bus.
There was a distant rumble about a minute before Oliver heard the bus backfire, turn the corner, and screech to a halt right in front of him. There was a hiss as the air brakes released, and the door opened. He was a little tentative, but he clambered aboard anyway. Oliver discovered that he was the first stop on the route.
“Morning.” The diminutive bus driver gave Oliver a cheerful smile and tipped his hat. There were lots of seats available on the large bus, so Oliver chose one in the middle. The next stop was only a short distance from Oliver’s.
“Can I sit here?” a girl no bigger than a kindergartener asked Oliver.
He tried to hide his surprise. “I guess so.” He didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Cassie. What’s your name?”
“Oliver.” He turned to look out the window.
“You’re new here. I can tell.”
Oliver didn’t respond. How could he have gotten stuck with a little kid already? He had just gotten on the bus.
“You live in the old house, don’t you?”
Oliver nodded absently.
“You must be very brave. Everyone says that house is haunted.”
Oliver sat bolt upright. “What do you mean?”
“Well, strange things seem to happen there.”
“Like what?” Oliver demanded.
“I don’t know. Noises mostly, I guess. Sometimes flashes of bright light.”
Come to think of it, Oliver had heard lots of noises at night, but he thought it was just the old house creaking and groaning.
“That’s crazy,” he said. “It’s not haunted.” Secretly, he was beginning to wonder.
“Well, I’m just telling you what I know.” Cassie looked offended and didn’t speak for the rest of the ride.
As it turned out, Cassie and Oliver were in the same class. Even stranger than a person Cassie’s size being in the fourth grade was that everyone in the class was about her height. Oliver was even taller than his teacher, Miss Peach.
“Goodness, you must be Oliver,” Miss Peach said looking up to him. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No, ma’am,” he replied.
“You must have eaten lots of vegetables to grow to be your size.” She eyed him cautiously.
“Only when my parents make me,” he said, which was quite true. Oliver would rather eat a stale pie or a week old cookie than a fresh salad, just as a bad day on the weekend is better than a good day at school.
All day long the children openly admired Oliver and his height.
“Really,” he told them, “I’m just average size where I used to live.” He couldn’t believe they’d never seen anyone his size. The girls kept touching him and hugging him. The boys swarmed around him at lunch asking him all kinds of questions, like what he packed in his lunch, how many times he had been held back, and would he be on their basketball team at recess.
Oliver was overwhelmed. This was a lot more attention than he was used to receiving. All the boys tried to trade their vegetable lunches for Oliver’s ham sandwich, corn chips, and cookies. They were convinced the food was what accounted for his height. He tried to explain that his parents were probably just naturally taller than theirs, but it wasn’t any use. At least they liked him, Oliver thought.
That afternoon Miss Peach reminded the class that Fridays were show-and-tell. Oliver already knew what he would bring. The rest of the day passed quickly, and Oliver was very glad. All of the extra attention had worn him out, and he was hungry since someone ate his cookies when he wasn’t looking.
Cassie waited until Oliver got on the bus to go home, then she followed him to his seat. “What are you bringing to show-and-tell on Friday, Oliver? I’m bringing my great-great-grandfather’s journal.”
“It’s a secret, but I’ll give you a hint. It’s big.”
Cassie’s eyes widened. “I hope it’s not too scary.”
“Don’t worry,” said Oliver. “It’s perfectly safe.”
Philip had also had a good day at school. Mrs. Dobbins was talking with him when Oliver walked into the kitchen. They chatted about their day and drank some hot cocoa Mrs. Dobbins had made.
“Where’s Marie?” Oliver wondered.
“I’m afraid things didn’t go so well for her,” Mrs. Dobbins said. “The boys were all a little scared of her.”
“Why?” Oliver pressed.
“Well, I guess she’s about a foot taller than everyone else.”
Philip tried to hold back a snicker, but Oliver caught it.
When Mr. Dobbins came home for dinner, he was pleased with his day, too.
“Dad, will you come to my school Friday for show-and-tell?” Oliver wanted to know.
“I suppose I can. Do you want me to talk about the bank?”
“Uh, sure,” said Oliver. He didn’t really think it would be necessary to say anything. Oliver was just imagining the looks on the other kids’ faces. Mr. Dobbins was well over six feet tall.
The next few days at school flew by. All of the boys in Oliver’s class had abandoned vegetables in their lunches in favor of the ham sandwiches, chips and cookies that Oliver always ate. As strange as it was, at least Oliver didn’t have to worry about someone else eating his lunch, providing his was the same each day.
The excitement over his size seemed to have died down toward the end of the week. Oliver was mostly relieved, but all of the attention had been nice in a way. Now he was just relegated to doing things that short people always want tall people to do. Miss Peach kept asking him to reach things on the higher shelves, but Oliver didn’t mind too much.
When show-and-tell time came on Friday, Mr. Dobbins was literally a huge success. He had to coax Miss Peach out from under her desk. Oliver reassured her that his dad was just a banker, but it didn’t help when Mr. Dobbins corrected him and added that he was also a financial advisor. This nearly sent her into hysterics. Plus some of the other students kept whispering “giant.” She finally regained her composure when Oliver’s father excused himself to return to work.
When it was Cassie’s turn to share, she held up an old red leather-bound journal. “This belonged to my great-great-grandfather,” she said. “It’s over a hundred years old.”
The class was visibly impressed. “Would you like to read some of it to us?” Miss Peach encouraged.
“Okay.” She paused while finding the right place. “December 3, I have been feeling poorly ever since I drank that cup of water at the gnomes’ house. I think it might have been poisoned…”
“Thank you, Cassie, I believe that’s enough. Who’s next?” she asked quickly moving on.
Cassie looked dejected as she sat down, but Oliver was just beginning to have some serious questions and leaned over to Cassie. “What’d you say your grandfather’s name was?” he asked.
“Great-great-grandfather,” Cassie corrected him.
“Right,” said Oliver.
“Hugh Terwilliger.”
“That’s what I thought,” Oliver said.
“Actually,” said Cassie, “I didn’t say his name.”
“Oh,” said Oliver. “Never mind then.”
“Ahem. Excuse me,” said Miss Peach. “Miss Terwilliger and Mr. Dobbins, please discuss the school dance on your own time, not mine.”
Oliver wished he could die. Everyone was laughing except Cassie, of course, who was as red as a beet with embarrassment. Why did teachers do that?
All afternoon kids were teasing Oliver and Cassie about sitting in a tree and K-I-S-S-I-N-G. Then they speculated whether they would have giant kids or little kids, or maybe kids somewhere in the middle.
Oliver really wanted to see her journal, but he wasn’t going to chance being tormented, so he avoided her instead.
On the bus ride home Oliver glanced around, and, not seeing anyone from his class, he sat down next to Cassie.
“Hey, Cassie, do you mind if I take a look at that journal? It sounds like it’s interesting.”
She glared at him through watery eyes. Then she turned and looked out the dusty bus window for the rest of the trip home.
Girls, thought Oliver. He got off the bus at the end of his driveway. The sky was gray and cloudy. Winter would be here soon in full force. He felt the breeze through his jacket as he walked down the lane. He picked up a stone, threw it at the iron gate, and it made a metallic ping.
Even though the house was in bad shape, the grounds around him had a kind of wild beauty. Oliver decided to walk back to the carriage house before going inside. He slid the door to the side. The rusty old tracks protested upon being disturbed. He closed the door behind him because there was a chill wind blowing through the opening. He looked at the furniture they had moved out of the house. It was hard to see in the dim light the dingy windows provided. He realized there was a good-sized writing desk. He set down his backpack to have a closer look. It was at least as old as the house, but it appeared to be in decidedly better condition than its surroundings. Oliver could easily picture it in his bedroom.
As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he poked around some more, but there weren’t any bookcases, which is what he really wanted. If there had been any bookcases here, Mr. Dobbins would probably have already found them. He did find some stairs in the back that probably led to a loft. Maybe it could have been an apartment for servants or something. Oliver would have to check it out later when he finished his explorations.
Inside, Marie was slumped over the kitchen table with her face buried in her arms. “They hate me,” she said.
“They don’t hate you,” Mrs. Dobbins said. “They’re probably just shy.”
“Who hates you?” Oliver asked.
“My whole class,” Marie said looking up at Oliver. Her eyebrows were smeared and made her look like a grotesque clown. “They’re afraid of me because I’m bigger than all of them.” Oliver had a clear mental image.
“My class loves me,” Philip bragged. “All the girls want me to take them to the dance. I still haven’t decided…”
“Oh, shut up,” said Marie.
“That’s enough.” Mrs. Dobbins glared at Philip.
“Philip, can you help me bring in this desk I found out in the carriage house?” Oliver asked.
“Um, let me think. No,” said Philip without hesitation. “You didn’t help me, so I’m not helping you.”
“Philip, why can’t you help your brother?” asked Mrs. Dobbins. Oliver knew he could count on his mother to intervene and make Philip help him.
“He’s beyond help,” Philip said.
“Just do it,” said Mom.
“Fine,” said Philip. “You owe me big time, Lumpy,” he growled under his breath to Oliver.
The desk was heavier than Oliver originally thought. “What’s this made of, lead?” asked Philip.
“I think it’s too heavy for us,” said Oliver. “We need Dad to help us.”
“No, we don’t,” said Philip. He grabbed the end with the wider drawers and hefted it up. Oliver’s end wasn’t much lighter, but he was able to lift it. He struggled up to the house. Once they were inside, Marie helped him lift his end and it wasn’t so difficult. The hardest part was getting it up the stairs. They maneuvered it through the door and lined it up under Oliver’s window.
Philip and Marie went back downstairs leaving Oliver to his desk. He tried to open the main drawer, but found it locked. He got his knife out of the dresser and used one of the tools to pick the lock. The drawer had lots of old pens, and some even worked. Oliver discovered that the other drawers were all empty except the bottom left drawer.
Oliver heard something sliding around when he opened it. At the back he found a key. He supposed it was for the desk, but it wouldn’t fit. Oliver thought he would keep it in his desk just in case he needed it later.
After supper, Oliver went back up to his room. He dusted off his desk and polished it. Then he did his homework at his new desk. He felt very scholastic. It was a fine desk. He surveyed his new room, and his eyes landed upon the book by Mr. Herris. Having nothing better to do, he decided to read some more. He flopped down on his bed and opened to the third chapter – Moving On.
After enduring years of family hardship and the general displeasure of the community at large, Sally Terwilliger died. Her husband left the house to their eldest daughter, Louisa, and left the town.
Oliver thought the book seemed to be more about the Terwilligers than New Devonshire, but he continued reading.
By this time, the railroad had arrived in New Devonshire. And with it came instant prosperity to all of the farmers who now had a larger market of buyers. Many stores sprang up overnight to accommodate the newly wealthy.
Regrettably, the railroad decided to pull up stakes a few years later because the larger cities were more profitable. New Devonshire suffered a terrible depression.
It was about this time that many people began to think that New Devonshire was under a curse. The height of the average citizen was, and is, about four and a half feet tall. Some people believed that no one would buy their crops for that reason, and that was the real reason that the railroad left. No one really knows for certain.
“Well that certainly explains a lot,” thought Oliver. He closed his eyes to think for a minute. The next thing he knew, Philip was shaking him.
“Get up!”
“What time is it?” Oliver asked groggily.
“I think it’s 2:00,” said Philip. “Come with me to my room.”
“Why?” said Oliver. “I want to go back to sleep.”
“Just come in my room for a minute. You’ll see.”
“Fine. If I go, will you let me go back to sleep?
“Yeah, sure. Just hurry.”
Oliver half walked and Philip half dragged him through the hall to his room.
“There,” said Philip. “Do you hear it?”
“No,” said Oliver.
“You don’t hear the voices in the wall?”
“It’s probably your radio. Did you turn it off?”
“Of course I turned it off! You really can’t hear it?”
“No, what are they saying?”
“Something about they’ve got to find it even if they have to tear the house apart. And the boy must know. Also, there was some classical music.”
“Find what? What boy?”
“I don’t know.”
Oliver suspected this was just Philip’s way of messing with his head. “I’m going back to bed.”
“Wait, uh, maybe I should go with you. You know, to protect you, just in case.”
“Oh, no,” said Oliver. “I’m not falling for that. You’ll just make fun of me and say I asked you to stay with me because I was scared. Well, I’m not scared, and I’m going to bed.” Oliver returned to his room and locked the door behind him.
“Great,” he heard Philip mutter.
Everything went along normally for the next few days. Although, Oliver noticed that Philip looked more and more haggard. Oliver began to worry a little. Maybe Philip was going crazy. Maybe Philip would turn out to be just like Aunt Gwen. Oliver shuddered at the thought.
That night, Oliver heard Philip yelling, “Shut up, will you!” around midnight. Oliver and his parents peeked into the hallway and looked at each other.
“He’s probably just having a bad dream,” said Mr. Dobbins.
Oliver told them about the other night.
They all walked over and Mr. Dobbins opened Philip’s door. Philip was staring angrily at the wall with his hands on his hips.
“Everything all right?” Mrs. Dobbins asked.
“No, it’s not. I keep hearing sounds from the wall at night.”
“What kind of sounds?” asked Mr. Dobbins.
“Voices mostly. Plus the dripping water”
Mr. Dobbins put his ear on the wall. “I don’t hear anything, but I’ll have someone check into the roofing tomorrow.”
“Well, of course not now,” said Philip. “They know you’re listening.”
Mr. Dobbins shot a look of concern to his wife.
“Of course,” said Mrs. Dobbins. “Maybe now you can sleep.”
“Maybe,” said Philip. “So you believe me? Oliver wouldn’t.”
“Sure, we believe you thought you heard voices. It happens to everyone.”
“Wait, I’m not crazy,” Philip said. “I was just fooling around. Playing a joke on Oliver. I had you going, didn’t I? Well, I’m going to bed. ‘Night all.” Philip crawled under his covers.
Oliver went to his bedroom, and Mrs. Dobbins poked her head in the door. “Don’t you worry about Philip,” she said. “We’ll get him to the doctor’s tomorrow. He’ll be just fine. Good night, Honey.”
Philip was lying on the couch when Oliver got home from school the next day.
“Hey, Buddy, pretty good joke we had the other day. No hard feelings, right?” Philip said drowsily.
“No, Philip. No hard feelings. You really fooled me.” Oliver walked on into the kitchen where Mrs. Dobbins was working on dinner.
“What’s up with him?” Oliver asked.
“Oh, the doctor said he’s fine. He just gave him a little prescription to help him relax.”
“He definitely seems relaxed,” Oliver observed.
“Please don’t mention the voices to him, or Marie for that matter. She still doesn’t know.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.”
Chapter 4
Philip was in high spirits for the next few days. The roofer had replaced a few slate tiles right over Philip’s bedroom, and things seemed to settle down. Strangely enough, Oliver preferred the old, sarcastic, insulting, rude, bossy Philip. He wasn’t sure why, though.
Aunt Gwen was coming for a visit. Mr. and Mrs. Dobbins decided to call on some old friends in Burlington, needed a babysitter, and Aunt Gwen hadn’t seen the new house. She arrived Thursday night so she could spend some time with Mr. and Mrs. Dobbins before they left on Friday.
Marie helped Mrs. Dobbins make lasagna in honor of her arrival. Oliver loved Italian food, especially crisp, toasty garlic bread. After Mr. Dobbins said a prayer, they dished out the food.
“Your home looks lovely, Catherine,” Aunt Gwen said.
“Thanks, Gwen. We have a long way to go. We’re going to have to repaint the outside soon. It’s a good thing we have two strapping boys.”
“I like finger paint,” Philip blurted out.
“John wants to clear out the yard, too. It’s gotten a bit wild.”
“That’s right, Gwen. I’d like to put in a garden, and we could probably use some of your special traps,” Mr. Dobbins said.
Aunt Gwen turned red either out of pleasure or embarrassment, but Mrs. Dobbins shot Mr. Dobbins an extremely venomous look. To which he responded with a sly grin. Other than that, they all had a good time. They played Yahtzee after dinner, and Philip won several times.
Philip won partially because no one else really cared about winning and partially because he was a terrible cheat. He would flip a dice to a different number if he thought no one was looking.
“Marie,” Mrs. Dobbins said, “would you help Aunt Gwen get settled in your room, and show her where to find everything? She’ll be sleeping with you tonight. Tomorrow she’ll take our bedroom.”
“Sure,” said Marie. She seemed excited to have another girl around.
Oliver felt sorry for Aunt Gwen. Marie snored like a horse, but Aunt Gwen seemed no worse for wear the next morning. In fact, she was still asleep when Oliver left for school.
“Morning, Oliver,” said the bus driver.
“Morning, Sam,” Oliver said. All of the kids called him by his first name. Oliver took his usual seat in the middle of the bus next to the window and closed his eyes. He was thinking about what would happen to Philip if he actually were crazy. What if the medicine didn’t work?
“Do you mind if I sit down?” A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Yeah, sure.” Oliver hadn’t talked to Cassie since the day Miss Peach embarrassed them.
“I just thought you’d like to know that my great-great-grandfather built your house.”
“That’s interesting,” said Oliver.
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