Harriet the Spy: Chapters 5–6

That night at dinner everything was going along as usual, that is, Mr. and Mrs. Welsch were having an interminable, rambling conversation about nothing in particular while Harriet watched it all like a tennis match, when suddenly Harriet leaped to her feet as though she had just then remembered, and screamed, “I’ll be damned if I’ll go to dancing school.”

“Harriet!” Mrs. Welsch was appalled. “How dare you use words like that at the table.”

They had to be roused out of their complacency.

“Well, now, what is this about dancing school?” she asked amiably.

“Harriet”—Ole Golly took a deep breath and sat down—“have you ever thought about how spies are trained?”
“Yes. They learn languages and guerrilla fighting and everything about a country so if they’re captured they’ll know all the old football scores and things like that.”

Harriet stood up resolutely and marched down the steps to the dining room.

Harriet didn’t know how to approach Janie about her defection, but she decided she must.

‘'What? Was that sandwich poisoned?” Janie stood up. The egg fell right out of Sport’s mouth.
“No,” Harriet said quickly. Now it was anticlimactic.

She couldn’t think of any way to find out subtly without Ole Golly catching on.

Harriet hated the quietness of the house, the wholesale emptiness that seemed to envelop her as soon as the last door had shut, the last voice had called out gaily, “Go to sleep on time. Be a good girl.”

They were evidently going for a walk beside the river.

She discovered that if they stayed on this path she could run along, completely hidden by the thick foliage, and, miraculously, hear every word they said.

“Mr. Waldenstein, have you ever noticed”—Ole Golly sounded terribly proper and enunciated everything quite clearly—“have you ever noticed how tidy the grass is in this park?”

Mr. Waldenstein had a pleasant speaking voice, although there was a certain amount of rasp and gravel running along the bottom of it.

Harriet pondered on this as she watched them turn onto the esplanade which runs along the river.

Harriet thought for a minute that he was going off for a while to deliver things, but then her hair stood on end as she watched Ole Golly, with great agility and even more aplomb, hop onto the delivery cart.

“It wasn’t terribly pleasant. He turned beet-red, apologized profusely, then passed out. He looked perfectly horrified the next time he saw me.”

“I just wondered,” said Mrs. Welsch in a bemused voice.

Mr. Welsch was in a terrible grump. “All right,” he said peevishly.

“No. Not yet. Uh, did you have a good time?” Harriet tried to sound indifferent.

"‘Solitude, the safeguard of mediocrity, is to genius the stern friend’!"

“Good evening, Miss Golly, so very nice of you to invite me to dine with you, and...”—he looked at Harriet who shot him an outraged look—“and with your charming ward.”

He looked back at her with such a look of innocent pleasure that she was disconcerted.

"Who’s that?” she said in a very unconcerned way.
“Little Joe Curry,” Mr. Waldenstein said simply, then beamed in obvious pleasure at this feat of his.

“Little Joe Curry is a profound enigma to me, Catherine.”

Mr. Waldenstein leaned back expansively, obviously feeling that he had conquered the enemy and could now relax.

He looked at Harriet as though he expected absolution.

She was torn between a spooky thing about children with funny eyes and a spectacular about the Greek gods. She decided that it was the better part of wisdom to suggest the latter.

“Ah,” he said, “it’s very simple. I have washed thoroughly the inside today, and Harriet will just fit. Catherine has already proven her adeptness at riding on the top.”

He was still astride the bike, Ole Golly was still standing on the sidewalk, and Harriet was still poking her head out of the top of the cart, when suddenly there was a scream and Mrs. Welsch was standing in the front door, the light hitting the glittering stuff of her dress and making it sparkle.

“I wish you would. I don’t like the look of this at all,” Mr. Welsch said huffily.

“Darling, let’s talk about this reasonably,” Mr. Welsch appealed to her.

And she thought of a phrase she had heard her mother use about other people, “outlandish behavior.”

“Mrs. Welsch—” Mr. Waldenstein was smiling in a terribly ingratiating manner.

But, as it is, I do not think that she need have one minute’s unpleasantness about this. She has said to me that she would be leaving next month anyway. I only hoped, and I know I speak for her too in this, that the parting could be more amicable than this.

Ole Golly looked up, and Harriet saw a flush of pride on her face.

On the stairs, Harriet felt profound shock.

Harriet ran pell-mell into the room.

Harriet lolled back on the bed and looked at the ceiling.

Harriet, don’t take on so. It’s unbecoming.