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Too old to cry, I told e Already I was sprouting a few hairs abovemy sobs back, I ran to the white wall and climbed the oak tree Once there on the wall I sat in e white ht and I thought about Bart and as his father Why hadn't he been named after Daddy Paul? Surely a son should have his father's name Why Bart instead of Paul?

As I watched, as I wondered, fog fro back upon itself, enfolding the mansion until I couldn't see it All about , mysterious

Froeover there? Great wracking sobs that were punctuated by iveness

Oh, God! Was that pitiful old wo just like my mother had cried? What had she done? Did everyone have sorew up?

"Christopher," I heard her sob Startled, I jerked and tried to find where she was How did she know my dad's na So had coer than usual So hier on Whatever was changing Bart didn't have anything to do with Mom and Dad If I couldn't understand them, Bart wouldn't have a chance But whatever it was betweenon with Bart, I felt I had the weight of the world onyet

One afternoon I deliberately hurried home from ballet class early I wanted to find out what Bart did with himself when I ay He wasn't in his rooarden, so that left only one place he could possibly be Next door

I found him easily Much toon the lap of the old woman who never wore any clothes that weren't black

I sucked in my breath The little rascal cuddled up cozily on her black lap I stole closer to theof the parlor she see softly to hie dark eyes were full of innocence before his expression suddenly changed to that of someone sly and old "You don't really love est voice

"Oh, yes I do," she said softly "I love you more than I have ever loved anyone before"

"More than you could love Jory?"

Why the Devil should she love me?

She hesitated, glanced away, answered, "Yesyou are very, very special to me"

"You will always love me best of all?"

"Always, always"

"You will giveI want, no matter what?"