The Caldwell children lived in a house that was very big and very splendid and if you asked, Henry would tell you that he and Lizzy were "perfectly happy there", as they had enough toys to fill a dozen nurseries and more space to run around than any other boy in his year. Grandfather was very rich and he indulged the children however he could, since their parents had both taken ill only a little while after Lizzy was one-year old and died just before second birthday. Although they could hardly remember their parents, the children knew that the key to any new toy was to mention how much they missed them. Henry was particularly good at this and had more toys than any other boy he knew.
As a result, innumerable dolls and toy boats littered the house and the nursery was filled with so many playthings, the children could hardly step without tripping over one. The Caldwell children, however, did not have many friends that they were willing to share them with. "What's the use?" Henry would say whenever his grandfather invited him to have a boy over, "He'll only break something." Lizzy too had become accustomed to her dolls and hardly ever spoke in school. The other girls took this as a gross insult, and so they had learned to ignore her whenever she was near.
Whenever Ms. Mooney was stayed at the house, however, they were forced to abandon their precious toys. Ms. Mooney was an old maid who lived about a mile down the road, and although she had no children of her own, she always insisted that the best of children had "no use for such silly playthings." Children in her day, she would often say, knew how to entertain themselves. Worse, though, in the minds of the Caldwell children anyway, than any of this was the danger that Ms. Mooney would bring Anne.
Anne was the niece of Ms. Mooney who lived with her in the summer months. She was about eight—only about three months younger than Henry, but uncommonly tall for her age, with pale blonde hair that was hardly ever neat and a shocking amount of freckles. She was full of laughs and stories and nonsense and had simply no sense of volume—her voice would ring through the spacious house in a way most alarming to the Caldwell children, who much preferred a nice quiet home, and even her laugh was enough to make the crystal in the china cabinet tremble dangerously.
Lizzy was absolutely terrified of her, and as for Henry, he simply couldn't stand her. "I hate her and everything about her," he had decided, "She's all noise and chaos and she always breaks something." And of course, who should appear at the door not a minute later than the horror herself. As Henry opened the door to admit her, it took everything in his power to keep from slamming it shut at the last moment and locking her out in the rain.
Leaning over the banister, Ms. Mooney called out "I am tired from the day's journey, play nicely. I shall be down I an hour to make sure you've all behaved." With this threat hanging in the air behind her, she disappeared into the guest bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her.
"So!" said Anne, ignoring Lizzy's flinch, "What shall we do today? I just love rainy days—there's so much room to have adventures in a big old house like this!" Lizzy had inched behind Henry at this point, and Henry had already had it with Anne.
"This "big old house" he said a bit too warmly, "Is ours. And we will not be having any "adventures" or whatever other nonsense you've thought up." And with that he turned on his heel back to the nursery, smirking at how quickly the freckled girl's smile had slipped from her face. Adventures indeed, thought Henry haughtily. What sort of fool looks for adventures on a day like this? He snorted cynically and he turned into the nursery door, with Lizzy scurrying in quickly behind him.
"Oh, wait Lizzy!" Anne called, causing Lizzy to freeze in horror. "We don't need him." Henry too had stopped in his tracks. "He's just a stupid boy." Henry's face started to turn pink. "He wouldn't understand adventure if it bit him on the nose! We'll have our own adventures Lizzy, and he is not invited." Henry spun around now, face glowing red. Lizzy stumbled back in alarm.
"Not invited? I wouldn't come if you begged me! And it's girls who are the stupid ones! No one in their right mind would ever go on any sort of "adventure" with a girl!" Anne just smirked
"Well you're just jealous. I bet you wish we would let you play with us, but we won't. And there's nothing you can do about it, right Lizzy?"
Lizzy was trembling at this point, looking from Anne to Henry as if they were two horrible monsters waiting to pounce on her. "I-I…"
"See? She's scared of you, Henry."
"FINE!" Henry was beyond aggravation at this point—he was positively enraged. "I don't care! I don't want to play with a couple of dumb girls anyway, so I hope you have a grand old time with your stupid adventure because I know I WILL."
"So you do like adventures," Anne smirked.
"I DO NOT! IF WOULD YOU JUST SHUT UP FOR—" but Henry never got to finish because at that moment he looked up to see a very angry Ms. Mooney glaring down at him from the top of the staircase.
"Mister Caldwell" her voice hissed through the sudden silence "How dare you bellow like a lunatic when your grandfather is sleeping? You'll be the death of him, you troublesome boy, I've always said so." The color had drained from Henry's face now and he stood shocked as Ms. Mooney marched down the steps toward him. "Get out of my sight you disrespectful little tyrant! You may scream at your sister everyday of the week but as long as I'm here, you will never raise your voice above a mumble to my Anne." Even Anne looked sorry now, and she looked to Henry with sympathy—however much she loathed him, she had never intended this. "Go on boy—go. And you are not to come back to the nursery until you've learned to control that temper!