The Mystery of the Singing Serpent - M. V. Carey [3]
“A nasty scrape,” said Aunt Mathilda, who had established herself in a chair near the fireplace. “Still, children do survive these things.”
“I’ll need some cobwebs,” said the woman.
“Cobwebs?” echoed Aunt Mathilda.
“Cobwebs?” said Marie, who stood by holding a basin of water.
Bob and Pete shifted uneasily, and Pete looked questioningly at Jupe. Jupe smiled.
“Cobwebs,” he said to Marie. “Spiders make them.”
Marie went pink with outrage. “There are no cobwebs in this house. I spray every week.”
“Oh, how unfortunate,” said the lady in purple. “Well, in that case, bring the gold jar from my medicine cabinet.”
Marie went, and for the first time the woman in purple focused on the boys. “Thank you for helping my niece,” she said. “Of course, this whole thing could have been prevented if she’d worn her purple scarf. Purple is for protection, you know.”
“Of course,” said Jupiter.
Marie returned with a small gilt jar.
“This should do it,” said Allie’s aunt. “It’s not quite as good as cobwebs, but it is good.
I made it myself.” She took the lid from the jar and applied a clear ointment to Allie’s knee.
“Would the American Medical Association approve?” asked Allie.
“Now, dear, it’s sure to work,” said Miss Osborne. “I gathered the herbs in the dark of the moon. Look. The bleeding’s stopped.”
“I hate to say so, Aunt Pat,” said the girl, “but it stopped before you put that gunk on.
What now? Do we order a wheelchair?”
“I think a bandage …” began Miss Osborne.
“I’ll take care of it. It’s no big deal.” Allie got up and headed for the hall. She passed the boys as if they were invisible, then paused at the foot of the stairs. “Thanks,” she said. “I mean, thanks for bringing Indian Queen home.”
“No trouble,” said Pete, who had stayed as far away from the horse as possible.
Allie went upstairs.
“I’m sure Allie is really grateful,” said Miss Osborne. “She’s a bit upset now, and you’ve been so kind and … and I’m afraid I didn’t get your names.”
Aunt Mathilda stood up. “I am Mrs. Titus Jones and this is my nephew, Jupiter Jones.
And Pete Crenshaw and Bob Andrews.”
Miss Osborne stared at Jupe, her violet eyes wide. “Jupiter Jones! Why, you’re Baby Fatso!”
Jupiter did not care to be reminded of his stage name. He felt his face getting hot.
“The world’s youngest has-been,” said Pete with a smile.
“Ah, but to have been part of the wonderful world of cinema!” exclaimed Miss Osborne. Then her eyes went past Jupiter to the window. “It’s Mr. Ariel!” she cried.
Aunt Mathilda and the boys turned to look. Out on the street, a man dressed in a black suit was getting out of a taxi. He had, thought Jupiter, the palest face ever seen on a human being. He looked as if he spent all his days in some deep cave.
Carrying a suitcase, the man headed up the drive to the walk leading to the front door.
“He is coming to stay after all!” Miss Osborne was obviously thrilled. “I was so hoping.”
“We won’t intrude,” said Aunt Mathilda. “We must be going anyway.” And before Miss Osborne could say one more word, she was shepherding the boys out the front door and across the veranda. They passed the black-clad man on the walk.
Aunt Mathilda paused before she climbed into the cab of the pickup truck.
“If you boys are going swimming, you’d better go,” she said. “Do you want a ride back to your bikes?”
“No thanks,” said Jupe. “We’ll walk.”
Aunt Mathilda shook her head. “Never in all my life! Cobwebs on a wound! What an idea!” She climbed into the truck and slammed the door.
“It’s an old folk remedy for bleeding,” said Jupiter, who read a great deal and had a head crammed with odd bits of information.
“Dreadful!” announced Aunt Mathilda, and she backed the truck out of the drive.
“And peculiar,” said Pete. “Marie is right. Allie Jamison’s aunt is one very peculiar lady.”
“She is, at least, very superstitious,” said Jupiter.
He dismissed the subject of Allie Jamison from his mind then. Not until late that night, as he was falling asleep, did he think again of the Jamison house and the jar of ointment —
herbs gathered