* * * * *
We went to the store almost every day after that. Then sometimes we
just walked around Fayette, and Gramp had me practice reading what the
pictures in people's minds meant instead of just what they looked like.
Sometimes I did it real good. Then Gramp would buy me some candy or ice
cream.
One day we were following Mr. Mears and I was telling Gramp what I saw
in Mr. Mears' mind when Mr. St. Ours drove by in his car. "Mr. Mears is
making pictures about feeding meat to Mr. St. Ours's dog and the dog is
crawling away and dying," I said to Gramp.
Gramp was real interested. He said, "Watch close and read everything
you can about that." I did. After, Gramp seemed very happy. He bought
me a big chocolate bar that time. Chocolate is my best kind of candy.
I read lots of things in other people's minds that made Gramp feel good
too, and he bought me candy just about every day.
Gramp seemed to have money all the time now instead of having to ask
Gramma for any. She wanted to know where he got all the money. But he
just smiled with his right cheek like he does and wouldn't tell her.
Most of the people in town didn't seem to like Gramp any more. They
made mad pictures about him whenever we met them.
Sometimes when we were in the store Mrs. Van would come in and she
would talk to me. She was awful nice. But she always had sad pictures
in her mind and sometimes she would cough real hard and hold a
handkerchief up in front of her mouth.
When she did that Mr. Van used to get sad too. In his pictures Mrs. Van
would be dead and laying in a coffin and they would be burying her in
a big hole in the ground. Mr. Van was nice too. He gave me crackers and
cookies, or sometimes a big thin slice of cheese.
One night Gramp was holding me and buying some groceries and Mr. Van
was putting them in a cardboard box, and he was thinking about going to
the bank in Escanaba and cashing a check. And the man gave him a big
handful of money.
I told Gramp, but then Mr. Van came close. I didn't say anymore, like
Gramp had told me. Mr. Van was whistling now. He made pictures of
giving the money to Mrs. Van. She was getting on a train and going to
a place where it was sunny all the time, and her cough went away and
she wasn't skinny any more. In his mind Mrs. Van was real pretty. She
didn't have the long nose like she really has.
When we got in our car Gramp was excited. He asked me where Mr. Van had
put the money he brought back from Escanaba.
He had bad pictures in his mind about taking Mr. Van's money and I
didn't want to tell him. But he grabbed my arm so hard it hurt and I
began to cry. Gramp never hurt me before.
"What are you crying for?" he asked me, cranky.
"I don't want you to take Mr. Van's money," I told him.
Gramp let go of my arm and didn't say anything for a while.
"Sometimes the pictures you see aren't true," he said. "You know that."
He took out his blue handkerchief and made me blow my nose. "Like when
you see pictures in Gramma's mind about her hurting me," he said. "She
never does, you know. So the pictures aren't true. It's just what we
call imagination."
"But your pictures are bad! They make me scared," I said.
"We all make bad pictures like that, but we don't mean them," Gramp
said. "Remember how you said that you'd like to eat the whole apple pie
last Sunday? You probably made pictures of doing that. But you never
did, because you know that Gramma and me should have some of it too." I
guess Gramp can explain just about everything.
So I told him where Mr. Van had hid the money under a box of brown
sugar. Gramp smiled and started the car.
He let me steer while it was going slow. "Who's my Chum?" he asked.
"I am," I said, and I laughed real happy.
* * * * *
The next day when I got up Gramp was gone.
I went back of the barn and played. I got a bunch of tin cans and
punched holes in them with a nail like Gramp showed me, and I made
steps out of rocks and put a can on each step. I poured water in the
top can. It ran through the holes from each can to the other all the
way down the steps.