was a sad little rug next to the stove. Harrison Withers has only a bed and a table, Harriet thought to herself. But since she didn’t want Ole Golly to know she had been peering through Harrison Withers’ skylight, she said nothing.
“I didn’t think you had,” said Ole Golly. “Look around. And drink your tea, children. You may have more milk and sugar if I haven’t put enough.”
“I don’t drink tea,” Sport said timidly.
Ole Golly shot an eye at him. “What do you mean you don’t drink tea?”
“I mean I never have.”
“You mean you’ve never tasted it?”
“No,” said Sport and looked a little terrified.
Harriet looked at Ole Golly. Ole Golly wore an arch expression which signified that she was about to quote.
“‘There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea.’” Ole Golly said this steadily and sedately, then leaned back in her chair with a satisfied look at Sport. Sport looked completely blank.
“Henry James,” said Ole Golly, “1843-1916. From Portrait of a Lady.”
“What’s that?” Sport asked Harriet.
“A novel, silly,” said Harriet.
“Oh, like my father writes,” said Sport, and dismissed the whole thing.
“My dotter’s a smart one,” mumbled Mrs Golly, still looking straight at Harriet.
“Behold, Harriet,” Ole Golly said, “a woman who never had any interest in anyone else, nor in any book, nor in any school, nor in any way of life, but has lived her whole life in this room, eating and sleeping and waiting to die.”
Harriet stared at Mrs Golly in horror. Should Ole Golly be saying these things? Wouldn’t Mrs Golly get mad? But Mrs Golly just sat looking contentedly at Harriet. Perhaps, thought Harriet, she forgets to turn her head away from something unless she is told.
“Try it, Sport, it’s good.” Harriet spoke to Sport quickly in an effort to change the subject.
Sport took a sip. “It’s not bad,” he said weakly.
“Try everything, Sport, at least once.” Ole Golly said this as though her mind weren’t really on it. Harriet looked at her curiously. Ole Golly was acting very strangely indeed. She seemed … was she angry? No, not angry. She seemed sad. Harriet realised with a start that it was the first time she had ever seen Ole Golly look sad. She hadn’t even known Ole Golly could be sad.
Almost as though she were thinking the same thing, Ole Golly suddenly shook her head and sat up straight. “Well,” she said brightly, “I think we have had enough tea and enough sights for one day. I think we had better go home now.”
The most extraordinary thing happened next. Mrs Golly leaped to her fat feet and threw her teacup down on the floor. “You’re always leaving. You’re always leaving,” she screamed.
“Now, Mother,” Ole Golly said calmly.
Mrs Golly hopped around the middle of the floor like a giant doll. She made Harriet think of those balloons, blown up like people, that bounce on the end of a string. Sport giggled suddenly. Harriet felt like giggling but wasn’t sure she should.
Mrs Golly bobbed away. “Just come here to leave me again. Always leaving. Thought you’d come for good this time.”
“Now, Mother,” Ole Golly said again, but this time got to her feet, walked to her mother, and laid a firm hand on the bouncing shoulder. “Mother,” she said gently, “you know I’ll be here next week.”
“Oh, that’s right,” said Mrs Golly. She stopped jumping immediately and gave a big smile to Harriet and Sport.
“Oh, boy,” said Sport under his breath.
Harriet sat fascinated. Then Ole Golly got them all bundled into their clothes and they were outside on the street again, having waved to a cheerful Mrs Golly. They walked along through the darkening day.
“Boy, oh, boy,” was all Sport could say.
Harriet couldn’t wait to get back to her room to finish her notes.
Ole Golly looked steadily ahead. There was no expression on her face at all.
WHEN HARRIET WAS ready for bed that night, she took out her notebook. She had a lot to think about. Tomorrow was the beginning of school. Tomorrow she would have a quantity of notes to take on the changes that had taken place in her friends over the summer. Tonight she wanted to think about Mrs Golly.
I THINK THAT LOOKING AT MRS GOLLY MUST MAKE OLE GOLLY SAD. MY MOTHER ISN’T AS SMART AS OLE GOLLY BUT SHE’S NOT AS DUMB AS MRS GOLLY. I OULDN’T LIKE TO HAVE A DUMB MOTHER. IT MUST MAKE YOU FEEL VERY UNPOPULAR. I THINK I WOULD LIKE TO WRITE A STORY ABOUT MRS GOLLY GETTING RUN OVER BY A TRUCK EXCEPT SHE’S SO FAT I WONDER WHAT WOULD HAPPEN TO THE TRUCK. I HAD BETTER CHECK ON THAT. I WOULD NOT LIKE TO LIVE LIKE MRS GOLLY BUT I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW WHAT GOES ON IN HER HEAD.
Harriet put the book down and ran in to Ole Golly’s room to kiss her good night. Ole Golly sat in a rocker in the light of an overhead lamp, reading. Harriet flew into the room and bounded right into the centre of the billowy yellow quilt which covered the single bed. Everything in the room was yellow, from the walls to the vase of chrysanthemums. Ole Golly “took to” yellow, as she put it.
“Take your feet off the bed,” Ole Golly said without looking up.
“What does your mother think about?” asked Harriet.
“I don’t know,” said Ole Golly in a musing way, still looking at her book. “I’ve wondered that for years.”
“What are you reading?” Harriet asked.
“Dostoyevsky.”
“What’s that?” asked Harriet in a thoroughly obnoxious way.
“Listen to this,” Ole Golly said and got that quote look on her face: “‘Love all God’s creation, the whole and every grain of sand in it. Love every leaf, every ray of God’s light. Love the animals, love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things. Once you perceive it, you will begin to comprehend it better every day. And you will come at last to love the whole world with an all-embracing love.’”
“What does that mean?” Harriet asked after she had been quiet a minute. “What do you think it means?”
“Well, maybe if you love everything, then … then – I guess you’ll know everything … then … seems like … you love everything more. I don’t know. Well, that’s about it …” Ole Golly looked at Harriet in as gentle a way as she could considering the fact that her face looked like it was cut out of oak.
“I want to know everything, everything,” screeched Harriet suddenly, lying back and bouncing up and down on the bed. “Everything in the world, everything, everything. I will be a spy and know everything.”
“It won’t do you a bit of good to know everything if you don’t do anything with it. Now get up, Miss Harriet the Spy, you’re going to sleep now.” And with that Ole Golly marched over and grabbed Harriet by the ear.
“Ouch,” said Harriet as she was led to her room, but it really didn’t hurt.
“There