The day of the invention convention was getting close. Thanks to Mr. Percy, Alice Putter’s clocks ticked and tocked along. Soon Grandfather and Ms. Putter would be back. The children could hardly wait to show them the new inventions and ask Ms. Putter about the riddle book they’d found. They still had one more big job to do — finding Alice Putter’s plan book. They kept on searching as they finished up their last-minute chores.
Jessie sent Violet and Benny out to gather wildflowers to brighten up the house. She and Henry discovered a broom closet full of cleaning tools Alice Putter had designed. Jessie chose a feather duster shaped like a bird and soared around the house, dusting pictures, lamp shades, and Alice’s many sculptures and clocks. Henry grabbed a dust mop that looked like an upside-down creature with a wild head of hair. He roamed through the rooms, mopping up dust and dustballs wherever he found them. Housecleaning had never been so much fun.
The hubbub was too much for poor Midnight. She moved out to the toolshed with the spiders. Martha didn’t want Ruff and Tumble underfoot during all the preparations. She shooed them into a fenced area near their doghouse.
In between visiting the penned dogs and finishing their housekeeping, the Aldens did some final tinkering on their own inventions, which they had moved out to the garage.
“How will I show off my rainy-day backpack if the sun’s blazing away?” Henry asked. The sunnier the weather forecast got, the cloudier he became. “I should have invented a hat with drop-down sunglasses or a shower that sprays suntan lotion.”
“Maybe you should call it a sunny-day backpack,” Jessie teased.
Henry began to laugh. “Okay, okay. No more teasing from younger sisters.”
Thanks to Mr. Percy, Violet had decided to enter her jewelry arm instead of the crayon saver. He had given her an old music box part, then showed her how to connect it to the wooden hand. Now it played a little tune as it slowly turned, displaying the jewelry from all sides.
“Thank goodness Mr. Percy saves old things, too,” Violet said. “Now I’m completely happy with my invention. Maybe I’ll work on my crayon saver and enter it next year.”
“I’m sticking with my hat,” Benny said. “Mr. Percy said it’s just right.”
Jessie was oiling the wheels of her recycling wagon. To show how it worked, she had filled each of the compartments with old newspapers, cans, and bottles. “Yes, Mr. Percy turned out to be nice after all.” She looked at her wristwatch. “I wish we had more time to search for Alice Putter’s plan book. Maybe if we found it, Martha and Ms. Putter would get along better.”
“Where should we look next?” Henry asked.
“In the kitchen,” Benny said. “I want to eat my leftover egg salad sandwich. And from there, we can keep an eye on the grandfather clock when it strikes twelve. Maybe something will happen to help us solve the riddle.”
“Good idea,” Jessie said. The Aldens walked toward the house. “It’s fifteen minutes to twelve now. That gives us time to drop off our jackets in our room before the clocks go off. It’s getting warm out.”
The children went through the kitchen, then headed upstairs. When they reached the first landing, they heard the front door open. Looking down, they saw Brad step into the entryway and look around. He set down his canvas tool bag in front of the grandfather clock then opened the glass door of the clock face.
“What’s he doing?” Benny whispered, staring down at Brad.
“Moving the hands ahead!” Henry whispered back. “He’s setting the time to twelve o’clock.”
Just as Henry spoke, the entryway filled with the long, deep chimes of the grandfather clock.
The Aldens watched Brad in amazement. As the clock struck twelve, Brad quickly opened the wooden panel on the bottom of the clock with no trouble at all. The panel blocked the children’s view. Was Brad putting something in the clock or taking it out? By the time the chimes ended, he’d closed the panel, then zipped his tool bag shut.
The Aldens looked at one another, wondering the same thing. How had Brad managed to open the bottom of the clock? Brad checked his watch. Reaching up, he quickly moved back the big hand eight minutes.
The clock now matched the others in the house. Brad picked up his tool bag and left. “The riddle!” Henry whispered. “Now I remember it.
“When the moon’s at twelve o’clock,
Pounce upon the stroke,
The time to act is at the chime,
When day and night run out of time.”
“That’s it!” Jessie said. “When the clock strikes twelve, the secret panel can be opened. Alice Putter made the clock with a built-in hiding place, then wrote a riddle explaining how to open it!”
“But what was Brad putting — or taking from — inside?” Benny wondered.
Jessie looked at her watch. “In eight more minutes, we can find out,” she said. “I bet we can open that panel at noon, too.”
Before the children could move, the front door opened again. Martha entered with the dust mop and a carrier full of cleaning supplies. She dusted areas that had already been dusted and mopped parts of the floor that had already been mopped. The whole time, she mumbled some words the Aldens couldn’t hear. Every few seconds, she looked up at the clock.
When real noon arrived, the children nearly jumped at the sound of it. The whole house filled with birdsongs, cuckoos, chimes, and gongs.
Despite the happy racket, the Aldens focused on Martha. They saw her open the glass part of the clock. She ran her fingertips around the edges.
“Maybe she’s trying to figure out how to open it,” Jessie said. She didn’t even have to whisper, since the clocks were so noisy. “Whatever the trick is, she doesn’t know it.”
Martha then tried to move the grandfather clock from the wall. It was much too heavy to budge.
At one minute past twelve, silence filled the house again. Martha picked up the carrier of supplies so roughly the feather duster fell out. She pushed open the front door, letting it slam as she marched down the steps. The feather duster lay in front of the clock like a bird that had fallen from its nest.
The Aldens were alone in the house. Noon had passed. They were a little closer to figuring out the secret of the grandfather clock. Something had been in there. Maybe it was in there now. Standing silently, the children looked at the smiling moon face.
“I wouldn’t dare move the hands back the way Brad did,” Henry said.
Violet nodded in agreement. “Mr. Percy said all of Alice Putter’s clocks are very delicate.”
“We’ll have to find another way to figure out what Brad Smithy is keeping in there,” Jessie said. She picked up the feather duster from the floor. “Or taking out.”
Early that evening, during their light supper of tomato soup and crackers, the children heard footsteps in the entryway. Two figures appeared in the doorway. Grandfather and Isabel Putter had returned.
One by one the children hurled themselves into Grandfather’s arms.
“You’re back!” Jessie cried. “We’ve been so busy, the time flew by. But we still missed you.”
Isabel stepped into the sparkling kitchen. “I noticed what a beautiful job you did setting up the displays in the library and living room — and under the canopy tents as well. I couldn’t have done a better job myself.”
After all the hugs were over, Benny took a piece of chocolate fudge from the box Grandfather had brought for everyone. “Yum. This is almost as good as the fudge we make with Mrs. McGregor. Now I’m full.” He set down his empty milk glass.
“Our car is full, too,” Grandfather told the children. “We collected several Alice Putter clocks and sculptures from the people who are lending them to Isabel to display during the convention. Wait until you see how beautiful they are.
Benny couldn’t sit still any longer. “Know what we found?” he asked, jumping from his seat.
“Grandma Alice’s plan book?” Ms. Putter asked in a hopeful voice.
“Almost,” Benny said. “I found an old book with drawings and riddles for somebody’s grandchildren. Only we’re the grandchildren who read them!”
Isabel looked happy and surprised. “Oh, wonderful! Grandma Alice and Martha’s grandfather wrote and illustrated many little books for us. They both liked silly rhymes, and both were wonderful artists. Sometimes they would hide something and make up a riddle to help us find it. Only the riddles could be very difficult, even for grown-ups. Where’s the book?”
The children glanced at one another. It didn’t seem like the right time to tell Isabel what they’d seen and overheard at the Red Rooster diner.
“Martha took it for safekeeping,” Jessie said.
Isabel sighed. “Well, I can’t look at it right now, anyway, we’ve got so much unpacking to do. Come see the treasures your grandfather and I brought back to put on display.” She led the way to the car.
“Whoa!” Henry said when Grandfather opened the trunk and car doors. “This looks like a moving van from a museum.”
“Oh,” Violet breathed when Grandfather opened a crate and pulled out a wooden clock packed in straw. “That is the prettiest clock of all!” she said.
The children came over to admire the piece. In place of numbers were carved vegetables. A woodchuck pushed the minute hand and a rabbit chased the hour hand.
Isabel carefully wound the clock. When the large hand struck the hour, bells rang. “I was quite surprised when I saw it. Unlike Grandma Alice’s other work, I’ve never seen any photographs or drawings of it. It’s very old-fashioned, the way clocks used to be long ago. No batteries, just lovely ticking and tocking.”
At the sound of the bells and Isabel’s voice, Ruff and Tumble began to howl.
Benny ran over and released them. They came running to Isabel, overjoyed that she was back.
Hearing all the yipping and commotion, Martha came out of the garage. “Those dogs are supposed to be locked up. Oh, Isabel. You’re back.”
Isabel stood up from petting the dogs. “Yes, James and I came back with a treasure trove of Grandma Alice’s work. We’re about to unpack the crates and put the pieces on display in the entryway of the house, separate from the inventions.”
Martha peeked into the crates. “How do you know for sure that your grandmother designed all these pieces? They’re painted in more than one style.”
Isabel sighed. “We’ve had a long day, Martha. There really isn’t any time to discuss this right now. I see you have the registration binder. How many inventions are registered now?”
“Forty-five,” Martha said. “Forty-six if you count Brad Smithy’s. He’s still working on his, so I don’t have the paperwork yet.”
Isabel pushed back a strand of hair that had gotten loose from her bun. “Oh, my. Last year, he had the paperwork but not the invention. Now he doesn’t have either. Well, he sure seems determined.”
Jessie and Henry exchanged a meaningful glance.
“Yes,” murmured Henry, “but determined to what?” |