The Hired Girl(61)

“Never,” I said. The truth is, I think ball games are unfeminine. I believe ladies should vote and be doctors and maybe even be President, but they should stay tidy and not perspire. Most of my life I’ve had to get dirty and perspire, but I haven’t liked it. If you ask me, it’s silly to run after a ball, and that kind of silliness ought to be left to the men.

Mimi said, “Nora Himmelrich plays.”

“Does she?” I was shocked. Fragile nymphs shouldn’t play ball.

“The girls have got up a team, and she’s captain,” Mimi explained. “Mama says I shouldn’t try to be friends with girls who are older than me, but my two best friends are away. Lotty’s in Paris, and Maisie’s at the seashore. Nora was nice; she tried to teach me how to hit the ball. But then the other girls came by and —” She stopped. “What’s that?”

We’d both heard it: a shrill sound, not the cry of a bird. We listened but it didn’t come again.

I returned to the subject of Mr. Solomon’s beloved. “Do you think Nora likes Mr. Solomon?”

“Oh, she likes him,” Mimi assured me. “Everyone likes Solly. But she’s not romantic about him.” She cocked her head, listening. “It’s a kitten! I bet it’s caught in a tree.”

It didn’t take us long to find the tree. Through the broad leaves of a sycamore, we caught a glimpse of a little creature the color of apricot jam. It mewed most pitifully.

“It’s stuck,” Mimi said. “We’ll have to get it down.”

I objected. “If it climbed up, it ought to be able to get down.”

“Not necessarily,” Mimi argued. She curled her fingers like claws and spoke in her know-it-all voice. “The way the claws hook, they climb up easily, but coming down, they slip.” She threw her hat on the ground. “I’m good at climbing trees. Boost me up, and I’ll see if I can catch it.”

I looked up. The lowest branch was high above my head. “Maybe it’ll jump down and land on its feet.”

“It won’t. It’s afraid to jump.” Mimi’s eyes were sparkling; she was enjoying every minute of this. She nipped forward and attempted to shinny up the tree.

I saw I would have to help. The trunk was too wide for her to get much purchase. I set my diary on the grass and laid my hat on top of it. Then I tried to boost her up into the tree.

She was heavier than she looked. I heaved and lifted as best I could, but it was no use.

“Hold on,” grunted Mimi. “If I can get up on your shoulders —” She twisted in my arms and scrambled up. “I still can’t reach!” she complained. “Can’t you jump?”

“With you on my back?” I snapped. “No, I can’t! Get down!”

I let my knees buckle, and we collapsed onto the grass and disentangled. The kitten mewed. “It’ll starve to death up there!” Mimi said despairingly. “Can’t you think of something?”

I looked around for inspiration. My eyes fell on the bench where we’d been sitting. Mimi gasped, “You can’t lift that!” and she was right, because the bench was cast iron and heavy. I couldn’t lift it — but I could drag it. There are some advantages to being a big ox.

Hauling that bench was hard work. I was bent double and afraid of stepping on my skirt. I made Mimi hold up my dress and petticoats, and after that we got on better. By the time I got the bench under the tree, the muscles in my arms burned like fire.

“You’re so strong,” Mimi said, her eyes glowing, “and so smart.”

I knew she was buttering me up. I liked it, but I wasn’t going to lose my head. “Take off your boots,” I commanded. “I don’t want any more scuff marks on my dress.”

“All right,” said Mimi. She took off her stockings, too, and unbuttoned the front of her sailor suit. “Once I catch the kitty, I can put him inside my vest. Then I’ll have my hands free to climb down.”

“Good,” I said. All this time, the kitten had gone on crying. I swear the little thing knew we were his best hope, and he wasn’t going to let us forget about him.

I made sure the bench was steady, and then I stood on it. Mimi hopped up on the bench, climbed up piggyback, and from thence wiggled onto my shoulders. She squirmed, braced herself, and leaped for the branch. “Quick, get down!” she directed me. I hopped off the bench and watched her swing back and forth. With a swirl of petticoats and lace-trimmed drawers, she swung herself into the tree.