Farewell Summer ~ Ray Bradbury - Marimarister

Doug halted.
―When you think about the money,‖ said Tom. ―What if the whole gang of us, the whole
mob, went up in the clock tower and cleaned it up, if we did the whole machine over somehow?
We couldn‘t repair the whole darned thing, no, but we could spend a couple hours and make it
look right and maybe run right, maybe we could save all the expenses and save you from being a
slave for the rest of your life.‖
―I don‘t know,‖ said Doug.
―We could give it a try,‖ said Tom. ―Ask Grandpa. He‘ll ask the courthouse people if
they‘ll let us up there again, this time with lots of polish and oil and sweat, and maybe we could
bring the darn dead machine back to life. It‘s gotta work. It‘s gonna work, Doug. Let‘s do it.‖
Doug turned and walked back to Tom‘s bed and sat on the edge. ―Dibs on some of that
ice cream,‖ he said.
―Sure,‖ said Tom. ―You get the first bite.‖
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The next day, at noon, Douglas walked Home from school to have lunch. When he got
there, his mother sent him straight next door to his grandparents‘ house. Grandpa was waiting,
sitting in his favorite chair in a pool of light from his favorite lamp, in the library, where all was
stillness and all the books on the shelves were standing alert and ready to be read.
Hearing the front door open, Grandpa, without looking up from his book, said,
―Douglas?‖
―Yeah.‖
―Come in, boy, and sit down.‖
It wasn‘t often that Grandpa offered you a chance to sit down, which meant there was
very serious business ahead.
Douglas entered quietly and sat on the sofa across from Grandpa and waited.
Finally Grandpa put aside his book, which was also a sign of the serious nature of things,
and took off his gold-rimmed specs, which was even more serious, and looked at Douglas with
what could only be called a piercing stare.