Summer Morning, Summer Night (Green Town 4)

“Hot dog!” said Dippy. “Teach me to do it!” He danced around as if I was a miracle.

“I don’t...” I started to say.

“Did you get the Throw-Your-Voice book for a dime from that Magic Company in Dallas, Texas?” cried Dippy. “You got one of those tin ventriloquist contraptions in your mouth?”

“Y-yes,” I lied, for I wanted him to help. “If you’ll help dig, I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Swell,?

?? he said. “Give me a shovel.” We both dug together, and from time to time the Woman screamed.

“Boy,” said Dippy. “You’d think she was right underfoot. You’re wonderful, Maggie.” Then he said, “What’s her name?”

“Who?”

“The Screaming Woman. You must have a name for her.”

“Oh, sure.” I thought a moment. “Her name’s Wilma Schweiger and she’s a rich old woman, ninety-six years old, and she was buried by a man named Spike, who counterfeited ten-dollar bills.”

“Yes, sir,” said Dippy.

“And there’s hidden treasure buried with her, and I, I’m a grave robber come to dig her out and get it,” I gasped, digging excitedly.

Dippy made his eyes Oriental and mysterious. “Can I be a grave robber, too?” He had a better idea. “Let’s pretend it’s the Princess Ommanatra, an Egyptian queen, covered with diamonds!”

We kept digging and I thought, oh, we will rescue her, we will. If only we keep on!

“Hey, I just got an idea,” said Dippy. And he ran off and got a piece of cardboard. He scribbled on it with crayon.

“Keep digging!” I said. “We can’t stop!”

“I’m making a sign. See? SLUMBERLAND CEMETERY! We can bury some birds and beetles here, in matchboxes and stuff. I’ll go find some butterflies.”

“No, Dippy!”

“It’s more fun that way. I’ll get me a dead cat, too, maybe...”

“Dippy, use your shovel! Please!”

“Aw,” said Dippy. “I’m tired. I think I’ll go home and take a nap.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Who says so?”

“Dippy, there’s something I want to tell you.”

“What?”

He gave the shovel a kick.

I whispered in his ear. “There’s really a woman buried here.”

“Why sure there is,” he said. “You said it, Maggie.”

“You don’t believe me, either.”

“Tell me how you throw your voice and I’ll keep on digging.”