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Donald and Donalda
Donald and Donalda
Donald and Donalda
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Donald and Donalda

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The orphan twins, Donald and Donalda, overcome loss and sorrow through their persistent courage. They depend on each other and on those who befriend them to triumph over the dangers they encounter. Once under the care of their grandfather, they find they must protect him.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherAuthorHouse
Release dateJan 27, 2014
ISBN9781491853818
Donald and Donalda
Author

Guy Hamel

Guy Hamel was an avid reader as a child. The art of story-telling has been a central concern of his professional life first as a schoolteacher and later as a professor English Language and Literature. He cherished his role as story-teller to his children and to their children. For the past few years he has acted as a volunteer in a local public elementary school working with children new to reading and telling tales in class.

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    Donald and Donalda - Guy Hamel

    Donald

    and

    Donalda

    GUY HAMEL

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    AuthorHouse™ LLC

    1663 Liberty Drive

    Bloomington, IN 47403

    www.authorhouse.com

    Phone: 1-800-839-8640

    © 2014 Guy Hamel. All rights reserved.

    No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

    Published by AuthorHouse 01/22/2014

    ISBN: 978-1-4918-5343-6 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4918-5381-8 (e)

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

    and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    (This story is dedicated to all those who have listened to the stories I’ve read and told over the years with the hope that they will enjoy it and share it.)

    Guy Hamel, Toronto, 2014

    T HE BOY KEPT OUT of sight around the corner. When he heard the sound of the closing door, he looked into the front hall, saw that it was empty, and made a signal to the girl, who was out of the sight of anybody but him. She disappeared for a moment, then came back, ran silently to join the boy and the two, in their stocking feet so they wouldn’t make any noise, ran up the back stairs. At the top there was a corridor, and the children went into the first room they re ached.

    A chess game was set out on a table, and the children sat at each end and looked intently at the pieces. There was a slight noise in the corridor, and a man appeared in the doorway, smiled at the children, and said Ah! I won’t disturb you. Enjoy your game. Then he disappeared and could be heard walking back along the corridor towards the main stairs.

    The girl took out a little hand mirror, moved to the doorway, held out the mirror so she could see along the stairway, and said He’s gone!

    The two hurried back down the back stairs and into the front room, where they took hiding places that allowed them to signal to each other.

    The girl pointed to her right. The man had gone into the library. In fact, they could hear him walking around as if uncertain of where he’d find whatever it was he wanted.

    Then he came out into the downstairs hallway. The girl signalled that the man was coming out. Then both children hid until the girl discovered that the man had simply crossed the hallway and gone into the room on the other side from the library.

    They both waited for a while. The man did not come out.

    Suddenly, there was a rattling of the doorknob. The girl raced back, joined the boy and, as before, the two raced up the stairs and back to the chess game. The man had also heard the noise at the door and come out rapidly. The girl had heard him as she crossed the floor, but she was certain she hadn’t been seen.

    Right! said the boy.

    Conference?

    Conference.

    Problem?

    What is he up to?

    Evidence?

    He waited until both Mrs Willey and Grandfather were out of the house. Then he checked that we wouldn’t be in the way for a while.

    Right, Donalda. Then he went to the library.

    He’s allowed to be in the library. He works there with Grandfather almost every day. So why should that be suspicious?

    Because he wasn’t working; he was snooping.

    Come on, Donald, We don’t really know that. But he has no business in the monuments room.

    Right! What could he be looking for in there? There’s a couple of suits of armour, some old weapons like pikes and halberds, and those paintings.

    I don’t think he wanted Grandfather to know he was in there. He scuttled out fast when he heard a noise at the front door.

    Action?

    Find out more about this Mr Knight.

    Any idea how?

    When did we start to be suspicious and why?

    Donalda, I think we were suspicious from the start. He comes here from nowhere saying he has heard of Grandfather’s important work and wants to help. He has an introductory letter from Duke’s College at Bath University recommending him; then he says he will act as secretary for no wages because he wants the experience of working on an important research project with a prominent authority in the field. And he doesn’t know anything. He keeps messing up Grandfather’s notes.

    We may love Grandfather, but we know no one pays much attention to him as a scientist poking away at his stones and bones.

    Mr Knight calls Grandfather ‘Professor Marcheson’ all the time, even though Grandfather told him he’s not a professor anywhere.

    And he keeps on calling him ‘Professor,’ and I think Grandfather is secretly pleased and flattered.

    Mr Knight is pretty smooth; but he’s quit trying to be nice-nice to us.

    Probably because it wasn’t working. And I think he’s given up on the Willeys. They don’t like him."

    They didn’t like us when we came here.

    That’s because they thought we would be noisy, messy and destructive. They like us now; but they still distrust Mr Knight-more and more.

    Donalda, remember the signs Mr Hunter told us about. Mr Knight is not consistent. His accent keeps slipping. I don’t think he’s used to wearing a vest. He keeps looking for things in the wrong pockets.

    So what do we do now?

    Donald thought for quite a while. Let’s start by checking on his credentials.

    And for the next while the children worked on their plan to do that.

    The next morning the children took their bikes and rode to the village of Lylebridge. They looked for the headmistress of their school, Mrs Hardy, at her home; but she had gone to the school to do some work. That suited the children very well.

    After they had chatted with Mrs Hardy in a way they thought would put her at ease but actually made her suspicious, Donna explained why they had come.

    We would like permission to use the school typewriter to write a proper business letter.

    Of course.

    Looking at the two carefully, Mrs Hardy added, "Is there more?:

    We’d like to use the school letterhead.

    That’s a bit different. I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me more.

    It’s a sensitive matter, said Donald.

    And it would have to be handled in a sensitive manner, his sister added.

    Very well. I’ll try to be sensitive, Now, what’s going on?

    Mrs for Mrs Hardy was very fond of the Whetston twins, but she knew they were inclined to take liberties.

    "We are concerned about the credentials of Mr Jerome Magnus Knight, who has joined our Grandfather as a secretary. We feel we may not be paying him a proper salary given the excellence of his background. Grandfather would feel badly if we were being unfair to Mr Knight; so it seemed right to find out more about his university studies. We can’t just send a personal letter, so we thought we might use the school as a poste restante."

    "Poste restante, indeed," Mrs for Mrs Hardy said to herself. Both children liked to throw into their conversation words the grown-ups they were talking with would not expect them to know. Donalda was especially good at doing this. It was a part of the strategy both of them employed in dealing with adults, who would be so dazzled by the child’s precocity-just the kind of word they liked to use—that they would go along with whatever the children were plotting. Mrs for Miss Fray, who taught history, and Miss Sharpe, who taught English, were particularly susceptible.

    Despite her caution, Mrs Hardy was impressed. That was a very polished statement, Donalda. I have the idea it was prepared ahead of time; and I assume that paper you’re holding contains a letter to the same effect as what you’ve just said.

    Donalda held out the letter and nodded agreement.

    My difficulty is to know how much of this I should believe.

    Mrs for Mrs Hardy, we promise to share with you any response we receive to our enquiries.

    So that I can react in a sensitive way, I suppose. Oh, very well. I admit you have me interested to know what you’re really up to. Tell me about this Mr Knight.

    Donald spoke first. He’s a young man. He introduced himself to Grandfather saying he was very interested in his work. He does the paper work, like keeping records and writing letters.

    And, Donalda added, he’s very deferential.

    Even to the point of being obsequious?

    Both children nodded.

    Thank you. Mrs for Mrs Hardy looked at the two very sharply. Please allow me to shape a different scenario: You don’t trust Mr Knight, You’re worried that he may intend to harm your grandfather. Since I know something of your grandfather’s finances, I don’t credit the claim that you were worried that Mr Knight deserves a higher salary. How much is he paid?

    The two looked at each other for a while before Donald said, Nothing.

    Except, added Donalda at once, that he gets meals and a room of his own.

    For nothing! Why does he say he’s doing his?

    He says the opportunity to study under an eminent scholar will help him in his professional career.

    That’s a lot of piffle. I have affection and respect for your grandfather. He’s a well-informed and serious amateur; but no young scholar is going to advance his reputation by becoming your grandfather’s volunteer secretary. I understand your concern. Now, which one of you has the second letter?

    Both Donald and Donalda looked rather shame-faced, then Donalda took out a letter from the handbag she carried and gave it to Mrs for Mrs Hardy.

    Let’s see. Mrs for Mrs Hardy read the letter aloud.

    Recently our institute engaged the services of Mr Jerome Magnus Knight in the capacity of private secretary. Mr Knight provided a letter of support from Professor G. Whistler of the Department of Anthropology along with documents indicating that he completed studies at Duke’s College in the University of Bath, graduating with the degree of Bachelor of Arts in 1932. Mr Knight occupies a position of trust; and it is the policy of the institute to verefy the credentials of its major officers. I would be grateful if you would confirm the information provided us by Mr Knight.

    A very creditable document indeed, even though one could challenge your description of your grandfather as an ‘institute’. Miss Sharp would be very proud of you. Yes, you may send this out on our letterhead-use the heavy bond. It will make a good effect. And, Donalda, you’ve misspelled ‘verefy’.

    Oh. Did I? I’m sorry Miss.

    The children went into the outer room to type out their letter. Mrs Hardy turned back to her work. In a moment her thoughts had turned back to the Whetston twins.

    She cared about them and she worried about them. She knew quite a bit about their history. They had been orphaned when their mother and father were both killed in a car accident. The children had been four years old at the time. They continued to live in the family home. Those who made that decision felt they would be more disturbed by moving to a strange place, even though their home must constantly remind them of their lost parents. Their aunt had joined them; but, though she was very loving, she was an actress who had a fairly successful career and was often away from home. From what the children had told her, Mrs Hardy knew that they had been very close to the housekeeper and her husband. Those hired to be in charge of the orphans were children’s maids, none of whom was cruel but none prepared to take on the role of a loving parent. When they were six years old, Donalda and Donald had governesses who were supposed to provide their education; but there was seldom anyone around to check on what they actually did. Once the children had learned to read, they mainly educated themselves from books. Then, two years ago, when the children were nine years old, their aunt had died and they came into the care of Mr Marcheson.

    Mrs Hardy had made a point of learning what she could about the Whetson family. Their father’s parents and their mother’s father had died before the twins were born. They were still babies when their grandmother married again-to Mr Marcheson. She had become fascinated with archaeology and had met her future husband at one of his digs. It was, Mrs Hardy thought, a very unlucky family. Mrs Marcheson had, in her turn, died two years after the marriage. Although there was no real claim on him, Mr Marcheson considered himself the children’s grandfather. He had never had children, knew nothing about children, and seemed not to remember ever having been a child himself; but he tried his best. He was kind to Donald and Donalda, bringing them totally inappropriate gifts every time he came to see them. (Complicated construction sets when they were five and pull-toys when they were seven.) The children were left without any natural family relatives when their aunt died; and Mr Marcheson had arranged to become their guardian. Mrs Hardy often had the sense that the situation was the other way around: the children thought of themselves as guarding their grandfather. That concern was, she thought, why they were investigating Mr Knight.

    Donald and Donalda had come to depend almost completely on each other. The understanding between them was very deep. They seemed to have long conversations while saying almost nothing. Mrs Hardy had noticed it again this morning. As they sat side by side they were in constant agreement. Each gesture, glance, movement of a hand by one of them had meaning for the other. They decided somehow who would speak next and what would be said. Mrs Hardy returned to her work, but she suddenly interrupted herself again.

    That child knows how to spell ‘verify’, she thought. She misspelled it on purpose. She gave me a little triumph at the end of our conversation so I’d feel superior and approve of her letter.

    With a sigh, Mrs Hardy picked up her work once more. But, again she put it down to consider her whole exchange with the children. They never intended to send that first letter claiming they thought poor Mr Knight needed money. They had arranged the conversation so that she brought herself to the conclusion that Mr Knight was not to be trusted and agreed that they should check up on him. She felt she had been very clever to realize that they had a second letter already prepared, but by allowing her to discover it instead of showing it to her at the beginning, they made it very hard for her not to approve of it-especially after she corrected its only mistake. She’d been so smart she’d allowed herself to be outsmarted. Oh, well! she thought. I was outnumbered two to one.

    The children returned with their letter. It had already been sealed in its envelope. Mrs Hardy was a bit suspicious. They’d probably done something they didn’t want her to see; but she decided not to bother finding out what it might be.

    Thank you very much, Mrs Hardy. That was Donald.

    "We’ll mail the letter today. The answer will come to you; so we’ll drop by in a few days to see if it’s arrived.

    But we don’t want to bother you.

    It won’t be a bother. I’m probably as anxious as you are to read whatever reply we receive. But it will probably be some time before we do get an answer. The University isn’t likely to consider this an urgent matter.

    The children went out, giving Mrs Hardy a goodbye wave and two bright smiles as they left.

    The bicycle trip home on a warm day and on a mostly uphill track made the children hot and thirsty. They went straight to the kitchen to get themselves a drink of cold milk along with a buttered scone each. Then it was time to plan.

    Donald started the process: Conference?

    Right! Problem?

    How do we investigate Mr Knight further?

    They both thought about the problem for a while, then Donalda spoke out: I don’t think we can do anything here.

    Right. Mr Knight is too careful, especially when we’re around.

    So; anything outside here?

    The letter.

    "Which letter?

    That’s right, Donalda. You weren’t in the room. Mr Knight came down when Mrs Willey and I were in the library. He came down to get an envelope. Mrs Willey said she would mail his letter for him when she went into Lylebridge the next day. He said he wasn’t quite finished writing the letter and that he’d look after it himself. He seemed quite anxious that nobody else should see his letter.

    So, he is keeping in touch with somebody. How can we find out who?

    The only way would be to get some information out of Mrs Willoughby.

    If she knows anything.

    Right! agreed Donald. But lets try.

    Then the children moved so that they sat across from each other and started to work out their action plan.

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    T HE NEXT DAY THE children cycled into town and went to the post office, which was also a newsagent’s, tobacco, and sweets shop. They had waited until mid afternoon. By that time Mrs Willoughby, the postmistress, would have sorted all that day’s incoming mail and sent the outgoing mail to the sorting centres. It was also a time when she probably wouldn’t have many cust omers.

    Donalda went to the mail wicket while Donald went to the sweets and magazines stall.

    Good afternoon. Mrs Willoughby. Are you enjoying the lovely warm weather?

    Oh, I know it’s fine for youngsters, but I don’t like moving in this heat. It makes me very uncomfortable.

    (That was the first step. Get Mrs Willoughby to complain. She was always more agreeable when she been given a chance to complain.)

    Two three-penny stamps, please, Mrs Willoughby.

    But before the postmistress could

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