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"It'll only take a second," Casey insisted, his hand on the basement doorknob. "I'll run down and run right up."

"I've got to get it," Casey said. "Otherwise Dad'll know --"

"No!" Margaret stood tensely in the center of the narrow hallway, halfway between the front door and the basement door, her eyes toward the front. "He's parked. He's getting out of the car."

"But he'll know! He'll know!" Casey cried, his voice high and whiny.

"So?"

"It's too late," Margaret interrupted, her eyes on the driveway. "He's already pulled up the drive."

"Of course I remember," Margaret replied. "But he's not going to kill us, Casey, just because we took a peek at his plants. He's --"

Margaret stopped. She moved closer to the screen door. "Hey, wait."

"Hurry!" Margaret turned and gestured with both hands. "Go! Get downstairs -- fast! Mr. Henry from next door. He stopped Dad. They're talking about something in the drive."

With a loud cry, Casey flung open the basement door and disappeared. Margaret heard him clumping rapidly down the stairs. Then she heard his footsteps fade as he hurried into their father's workroom.

"What's going on?" Casey asked.

"Remember how mad he got last time?" Casey asked.

It shouldn't take this long.

It doesn't take this long to pick your T-shirt up from the floor and run up the stairs.

Her dad was on the front walk now. He spotted her in the doorway and waved.

Hurry, Casey, she thought, standing guard at the front door, watching her father shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand as he talked with Mr. Henry.

Mr. Henry seemed to be doing all the talking. Probably asking Dad some kind of favor, Margaret thought. Mr. Henry wasn't handy at all, not like Dr. Brewer. And so he was always asking Margaret's dad to come over and help repair or install things.

Casey -- he's coming! Hurry! Margaret urged silently.

Hurry.

Still shielding his eyes, Dr. Brewer gave Mr. Henry a quick wave. Then both men spun around and began walking quickly toward their houses.

Margaret returned the wave and looked back through the hallway to the basement door. "Casey -- where are you?" she called aloud.

Get back up here. Where are you?

Hurry, Casey.

Hurry, Casey.

You know Dad never talks for long with the neighbors.

Her father was nodding now, a tight smile on his face.

Dr. Brewer had paused outside to inspect the rosebushes at the head of the front walk.

Still no reply.

No sound from the basement.

"Casey -- hurry!"

"Casey?" Margaret called.

She had to go downstairs and see what was keeping Casey.

Silence.

Her father was crouching down, doing something to the soil beneath the rosebushes.

With a feeling of dread weighing down her entire body, Margaret realized she had no choice.

No sound at all.

No reply.