“Well, Emma Winberry, aren’t you just the cutest thing!”

The old clapboard house was pleasantly cool inside, but Emma’s face burned from Mrs. Kester’s attention. Ducking her head, she mumbled, “Nice to meet you.”

Susan’s mother was a very pretty woman with green eyes just like Susan’s, but her hair was golden and she wore it up off her neck. She seemed kind and motherly in her shirtwaist dress as she offered them fresh-baked cookies.

Since Tommy was napping, Susan took Emma back outside. Emma wanted to see everything, starting with the horses. There were two of them — each with its own stall that opened into a shared corral. Pogo was a black and white Shetland pony. Brownie was a small chestnut mare with lovely, soulful eyes.

Susan said, “Pogo is too little for us, but we can go double on Brownie. Want to ride? She’s real gentle.”

“Can I really?” This was turning out even better than Emma had hoped.

Susan led Brownie into the barn and slipped a bridle over her patient head. After cinching on a saddle, she mounted easily. Then she reached down and helped pull Emma up behind her. Atop the horse, Emma arranged her dress as best as she could. She wrapped her arms around Susan’s sturdy waist and held tight as Brownie walked out of the barn. It was wonderful being up so high, feeling the horse move under her.

Susan set out for the garden, guiding Brownie around the perimeter, so the horse would not trample the plants. Beyond the fence, Emma could hear traffic whizzing by, and it seemed to come from another world…far, far away.

She spied a thick grove of trees and pointed to it. “That’s pretty. Can we go over there?”

“Sure, that’s the orchard.” Susan laughed. “Hang on!”

Suddenly Brownie was racing along at a smooth canter. The sensation of speed made Emma shiver with delight. At the orchard, they dismounted and ate their fill of sweet, juicy apricots. Afterward, they lay on their backs watching the birds peck fruit and twitter among the leaves. Time slipped away until Emma noticed a delicious aroma drifting from Mrs. Kester’s kitchen. It smelled like dinner.

Startled, she jumped to her feet and tried to brush off her dress. “Oh no, it’s later than I thought! I have to go home — right now!”

Susan sighed and got up. “Okay. We’ll ride over to the fence.” Looking hopefully at Emma, she added, “But you’ll come back again, won’t you?”

“I sure will,” Emma promised. One afternoon together, and they were already fast friends.

Emma ran all the way home and burst into her father’s laboratory. Overheated and breathless, she cried, “Papa, I met a girl! She’s nine, like me, only she has green eyes and the prettiest red hair you ever saw!”

Papa glanced up from his worktable and looked relieved. “There you are, Honeybee. Does Aunt Daisy know you’re back?”

“No, but…”

“Better go tell her.” Picking up a tool, he muttered, “…Before she has a nervous breakdown. You gave her quite a fright, disappearing like that.”

“Sorry, Papa.”

“You’d best apologize to her. I’m afraid you’re in for a terrible scolding.”

Papa was right. As Emma crept into the kitchen, Aunt Daisy turned from the stove and pounced on her. “Well, it’s about time! Young lady, where have you been? Just look at you! Your dress is all dirty! Are those foxtails I see?” Her nose twitched in disapproval. “What in the world have you been doing? I declare, you smell like a barnyard!”

Emma hung her head. “Sorry, Aunt Daisy. I was just up around the corner…at the little farm.”

“The farm, you say? Well, for someone as timid as a mouse, you certainly get around. Go wash your hands. It’s time to eat.”

Dinner was uneasy. After devouring so many apricots, Emma could only pick at her food. Aunt Daisy kept questioning her about the Kesters and making it plain that Emma had no business wandering over there without anyone’s permission.

Papa tried to distract Daisy with his research. “Electrolysis,” he said out of the blue. “Daisy, have you ever heard of the process? An electrical current breaks water into hydrogen and oxygen. Imagine using ordinary tap water in your gas tank.”

Daisy made a face. “You and your hydrogen! You won’t be satisfied until you blow us all up.”

“Now Daisy,” Papa said amiably, “I’m not building a bomb. Hydrogen is all around us. The shortening you used in these biscuits was made by adding hydrogen to liquid fat.”

“Do you think I’m a simpleton?” snapped Aunt Daisy. “I was teaching school when you were in diapers. In fact, I changed them a time or two.”

Papa sighed. Pushing aside his plate, he said, “Honeybee, I could sure use some of that ice cream.”

Emma’s breath caught in her throat. The ice cream! Shrinking down in her chair, she felt around in her dress pocket and put the unused dollar on the table. “I forgot.”

Aunt Daisy huffed. “You send her to the store and she hangs out with strangers, stuffing herself silly, instead. I’m surprised she didn’t lose the money. Robert, I do hope you’re going to punish her.”

Emma could hardly bear the sadness on Papa’s face as he said, “Aunt Daisy’s right. No television tonight, Emma. Go straight to bed.”

Emma ached at the thought of missing her favorite TV show, but got up without a word and headed down the hallway.

Aunt Daisy called after her, “Take a bath first!”

Emma took her time washing, and got into her cool seersucker pajamas. She felt terrible — not only for herself, but for Papa. Because of her thoughtless behavior, he had been forced to side with cranky Aunt Daisy.

In her bedroom, she heard a scratching at a window and found her cat begging to come inside. Unlatching the screen, she pushed her hand through the opening and rubbed Puff’s head. Then she picked up a Nancy Drew mystery and settled into bed. The friendly little room soothed her. She loved its hardwood floor and creamy walls and the yellow curtains that matched her bedspread. Over in the corner was a little card table where she put together models and worked jigsaw puzzles. Everything was snug and familiar. Even the closet didn’t scare her like it used to, when she was much younger.

She was getting sleepy when Papa came in.

Sitting beside her on the bed, he kissed her forehead and said, “Goodnight, Honeybee.”

Her heart felt like it would burst with love. “Papa, sorry I made so much trouble.”

His dark eyes smiled. “I’m glad you have a new friend…but next time, let us know where you are, okay? We don’t want to worry our Aunt Daisy.”

Emma hugged him. “I don’t want to worry you either, Papa.”

oooo

Deep in the night, Emma awakened. The crickets chirped loudly outside her windows, and as she stretched and opened her eyes, she became aware of a thin ribbon of light beneath her closet door. It had been a long time since she had seen that ominous glow, but suddenly all the old memories revived and fear clutched at her heart. She began to scream.

There was a sound of footsteps in the hallway. Papa opened the door wide, letting in the hall light, and he came over to her bed. She stopped screaming and began to cry.

Hovering over her, Papa said, “Bad dreams?”

“No,” she sobbed, “it was the closet…again. There was a light under the door. I saw it, I really did!”

But they could both see that the closet was dark now. Could it have been a dream? No, it wasn’t a dream; Emma was sure of it. The invisible tunnel had reopened in her closet floor, a damp foggy tunnel leading to a hidden world populated by villains.

Now that Papa was here, the fear began to leave her. With his help she calmed down, but it was a long time before she fell back to sleep.

oooo

The sun was shining when Emma walked into the kitchen. Aunt Daisy was flipping pancakes, and Papa sat at the table drinking coffee.

“Good morning,” Emma said, testing the waters.

Daisy’s sharp gaze settled on her. “That reminds me. What was all the ruckus last night?”

Papa flashed Emma a warning, but she went heedlessly ahead. “I saw a light under my closet door. It comes from an underground tunnel where mean old John McCormack lives.”

Aunt Daisy looked astonished. With her hands on her narrow hips, she turned and glared at Papa. “What’s all this nonsense about an underground tunnel? And who’s John McCormack? Wasn’t that the name of…”

“One moment please,” Papa swiftly interrupted. “Emma, can you go out front and get the newspaper?”

Emma left the kitchen, but stopped and listened just around the corner. Papa was saying, “Yes, John McCormack was Virginia’s doctor. After she died, Emma turned him into a make-believe villain. Of course, there’s no tunnel. It’s all a dream, but it feels very real to her. Just let her be.”

Just let her be.

The firmness in Papa’s voice made Emma smile, and she left to go get his paper. It felt good knowing that he respected her feelings in a way Aunt Daisy never did. Not for the first time, she wondered why he put up with the domineering old woman. For babysitting and wholesome meals? Surely he could find someone better.  

oooo

Mrs. Kester was very different from Aunt Daisy. She was so gentle and sweet that Emma quickly warmed to her. Almost every day Emma left for the Kester farm as soon as her chores were finished. Aunt Daisy showed her disapproval by heaping on additional work, but Emma told Papa and he put his foot down.

One particularly hot evening they quarreled right in front of Emma. Papa had come in from the lab for a glass of lemonade. The television was tuned to a comedy show, but there was nothing funny about what happened.

“Robert.” Aunt Daisy’s voice had a sharp edge that always meant trouble. Sitting as straight as a poker, she said, “I think this business with the Kesters has gone on quite long enough.”

Papa stood with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Emma’s made a friend, that’s all.”

Daisy briskly fanned herself with a folded section of the newspaper. “A friend! What do you know about that Kester girl? About any of them?”

“They sound like nice people.”

“Everyone sounds nice to you!” Daisy continued in a wounded voice, “I thought I was here to watch the child. Virginia wouldn’t have let her run wild like this.”

The words pierced Emma’s heart like a knife, but it was the pain on Papa’s face that made her speak up. “I’m not running wild! Mama would have liked Susan, I just know it!”

Aunt Daisy made a sound of disgust. Before she could say anything more, Papa found the perfect way to end the argument. “Emma, I’m sure your friend is a very nice girl. It’s time that you invite her over here, so we can all see for ourselves.”

oooo

Emma would have thought it impossible for anyone to dislike Susan Kester, who was so good-natured and outgoing. But after Susan’s visit, Aunt Daisy declared her “far too boyish and forward”. Fortunately, Papa saw things differently. He liked Susan so well that he began calling her “Sue Bee”, much to Susan’s delight. Even so, Emma worried. Aunt Daisy never changed her opinions. She just kept bringing up the same complaints over and over again, hoping to wear Papa down. And sometimes she did.

But as the days went by, it became apparent that Papa would stand firm when it came to Susan. As long as Emma behaved, she could visit the Kesters regularly, groom Brownie and Pogo, gather eggs, and help with other farm chores that seemed more like play. And Susan could visit her.

One windy afternoon, Susan came over to Emma’s house, pulling her pony behind her. Storm clouds piled up in the sky. Thunder began to crackle, and raindrops pattered down. Leaving Pogo in the yard nibbling weeds, they retreated to the back porch and watched lightning streak down. Huddled together, the girls began to talk about their fears. In hushed tones, Emma swore Susan to secrecy. Thunder rattled the old house as she told the story of the underground tunnel that sometimes appeared in her closet.

“And now it’s starting again,” she confided. “McCormack is getting ready. He’s going to make a move, I know it.”

Susan’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “What does he want?”

The answer came so swiftly that Emma wondered why she had never thought of it before. “He wants to steal Papa’s hydrogen experiment. That way, he can make a bomb.”

Susan gasped. “A bomb! We have to call the police!”

“No.” Emma said. “The opening in the closet comes and goes. They’d never believe us.” Feeling very important, she finished, “This is something we have to handle on our own.”

It took Emma a couple of days to devise a thrilling plan. Taking Susan up into the barn’s hayloft, she spoke very softly. “John McCormack has an agent named Ypsa. She does most of his dirty work. That night when I saw the light under the closet door, she came out of the tunnel. She’s living in our world now, not far from here, in an apartment…just waiting for the right moment to strike. I have evidence.”

Susan was breathless. “Evidence?”

Emma had the proof ready. She pulled out a smudged scrap of paper. “Look at this. I found it outside my bedroom, in the ivy.”

The peculiar printing read, “BLVD APT RDY YPSA BE ON AL—“

“Boulevard apartment ready,” Emma said with confidence. “Ypsa be on alert. That’s her name, Ypsa. We need to locate her before she gets her hands on Papa’s experiment. Then we’ll notify the police.” Emma felt tingly with excitement. “You’ll help, won’t you? We can walk up the boulevard and check all the names on the apartment mailboxes. But she might not have her name out where everyone can see it. We’ll need to talk to the apartment managers, too.”

Susan was usually bolder than Emma, but this time she just shook her head. “I don’t know if Mom will let me.”

“Don’t tell her,” Emma said. “Just say you’re going over to my house. We’ll go there later, so it won’t be a lie.”

Susan thought it over. “Can’t you do it by yourself?”

“That would be too dangerous. Besides,” Emma admitted, “I’m awful shy. I could never do all that by myself.”

“You don’t seem the least bit shy anymore…at least around me. But if you really need me…” With an uneasy smile, Susan relented. “Okay, I’ll help.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

oooo

Thinking of the wonderful adventure ahead of her, Emma could hardly sleep. The day dawned clear and warm. After her chores, she packed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for “a picnic with Susan”, and set out for the Kester farm. Susan was ready and waiting at the fence with her own brown bag lunch, but she seemed nervous.

“I don’t know about this,” she wavered. “What if Ypsa sees us? We could get hurt.”

“Not as long as we stick together,” Emma assured her. For once, she was braver than Susan and it felt good. “Ypsa won’t dare try anything in broad daylight — not with two against one. Come on.”

Eager to be on her way, she took off at a brisk pace. Susan followed without much enthusiasm. Up at the corner they turned left. For a while the boulevard ran alongside the Kester property, but then there was nothing but city. Traffic rushed by as Emma and Susan walked from one apartment complex to another, searching for the mysterious Ypsa. The day grew hotter and hotter. They sneaked inside the cool lobby of a three-story building and quenched their thirst at a drinking fountain. Then they crossed another busy intersection and ate their sandwiches as they trudged homeward, checking more apartments along the way. No one had ever heard of Ypsa.

The girls were worn out when they reached Emma’s house. Splashing cold water on their overheated faces, they kicked off their sandals and flopped side-by-side on her bed.

As the air from the hallway cooler drifted over them, Emma revived a bit and said, “She must be using an alias — an assumed name. If we only knew what she looked like…”

oooo

At dinnertime, Aunt Daisy fussed over Emma’s sunburned nose. “Heavenly days, child! Don’t you know enough to stay out of the sun?”

Thinking of Susan’s fair skin, Emma shoveled ham and potato casserole in her mouth and kept quiet. The worst of her flush had quickly faded, but Susan was as red as ever when she left for home.

Just before dessert, the phone rang. Papa went into the living room to answer it. From the table, Emma picked out an occasional word of his conversation, and her conscience stirred uneasily. Out of habit, she began to crack her knuckles.

“Stop that!” ordered Aunt Daisy.

Suddenly Papa called out, “Emma Rose, come in here this instant!”

Emma’s stomach cinched tight. Heart pounding, she went into the living room with Aunt Daisy following right on her heels.

Papa was still on the phone. His eyes snapped with disapproval as they settled on his blushing Honeybee. “I’m talking to Mrs. Kester. She has informed me that you and her daughter went traipsing all over town today…searching apartments for a secret agent.” His attention was drawn back to the earpiece, and then he spoke to Susan’s mother. “Ypsa, you say? And how would you spell that?” His chiseled jaw tightened and one eyebrow shot up. “Try spelling it backwards. A-S-P-Y. A spy.”

Aunt Daisy clasped her hands over her bosom and loudly declared, “I knew that Kester girl was a bad influence.”

Papa frowned at Daisy and attempted to cover the mouthpiece with his hand, but apparently Mrs. Kester was speaking. Papa answered, “No, Mrs. Kester. No. My work cannot possibly be used to make a hydrogen bomb. I’m afraid your daughter has been the victim of a prank…yes, a childish prank. I assure you, Emma will be hearing from me.”

He put the phone back on its cradle and sighed. “Well, that was embarrassing,” he muttered. Now that the exchange was over, he seemed more troubled than angry as he turned to his daughter. “Emma…Honeybee…what were you thinking? You had Susan scared out of her wits, and that little jaunt of yours burned her to a crisp.”

Aunt Daisy clicked her tongue in displeasure. “Everyone know that redheads have sensitive skin. What were you thinking, filling her up with your nonsense? I declare!”

Emma ducked her head and swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Papa. I didn’t mean for Susan to get hurt.” But a rebellious part of her was thinking, It serves her right, blabbing my secrets to everyone.

Papa put his hands on her shoulders and made her look into his eyes. “Emma, listen to me. You can’t go around letting your fantasies take over. You and I are driving over to the Kesters, and you’re going to apologize. Right now.”

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