Because of Winn-Dixie - Kate DiCamillo [17]
“Did he get killed?” I asked Miss Franny.
“Good grief,” said Amanda. She rolled her eyes.
“Now, Opal,” Miss Franny said, “I wouldn’t be standing in this room telling this story if he was killed. I wouldn’t exist. No ma’am. He had to live. But he was a changed man. Yes ma’am. A changed man. He walked back home when the war was over. He walked from Virginia all the way back to Georgia. He didn’t have a horse. Nobody had a horse except for the Yankees. He walked. And when he got home, there was no home there.”
“Where was it?” I asked her. I didn’t care if Amanda thought I was stupid. I wanted to know.
“Why,” Miss Franny shouted so loud that Winn-Dixie and Amanda Wilkinson and me all jumped, “the Yankees burned it! Yes ma’am. Burned it to the ground.”
“What about his sisters?” Amanda asked. She moved around the desk and came and sat on the floor. She looked up at Miss Franny. “What happened to them?”
“Dead. Dead of typhoid fever.”
“Oh no,” Amanda said in a real soft voice.
“And his mama?” I whispered.
“Dead, too.”
“And his father?” Amanda asked. “What happened to him?”
“He died on the battlefield.”
“Littmus was an orphan?” I asked.
“Yes ma’am,” said Miss Franny Block. “Littmus was an orphan.”
“This is a sad story,” I told Miss Franny.
“It sure is,” said Amanda. I was amazed that she was agreeing with me about something.
“I am not done yet,” Miss Franny said.
Winn-Dixie started to snore, and I nudged him with my foot to try to make him quit. I wanted to hear the rest of the story. It was important to me to hear how Littmus survived after losing everything he loved.
Well, Littmus came home from the war,” said Miss Franny as she went on with her story, “and found himself alone. And he sat down on what used to be the front step of his house, and he cried and cried. He cried just like a baby. He missed his mama and he missed his daddy and he missed his sisters and he missed the boy he used to be. When he finally finished crying, he had the strangest sensation. He felt like he wanted something sweet. He wanted a piece of candy. He hadn’t had a piece of candy in years. And it was right then that he made a decision. Yes ma’am. Littmus W. Block figured the world was a sorry affair and that it had enough ugly things in it and what he was going to do was concentrate on putting something sweet in it. He got up and started walking. He walked all the way to Florida. And the whole time he was walking, he was planning.”
“Planning what?” I asked.
“Why, planning the candy factory.”
“Did he build it?” I asked.
“Of course he did. It’s still standing out on Fairville Road.”
“That old building?” said Amanda. “That big spooky one?”
“It is not spooky,” said Miss Franny. “It was the birthplace of the family fortune. It was there that my great-grandfather manufactured the Littmus Lozenge, a candy that was famous the world over.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” said Amanda.
“Me neither,” I said.
“Well,” said Miss Franny, “they aren’t made anymore. The world, it seems, lost its appetite for Littmus Lozenges. But I still happen to have a few.” She opened the top drawer of her desk. It was full of candy. She opened the drawer below that. It was full of candy, too. Miss Franny Block’s whole desk was full of candy.
“Would you care for a Littmus Lozenge?” she asked Amanda and me.
“Yes, please,” said Amanda.
“Sure,” I said. “Can Winn-Dixie have one, too?”
“I have never known a dog that cared for hard candy,” said Miss Franny, “but he is welcome to try one.”
Miss Franny gave Amanda one Littmus Lozenge and me two. I unwrapped one and held it out to Winn-Dixie. He sat up and