They entered the basement with the caution of archaeologists stepping into a scared tomb. There, the two boys set to work lighting the gas lamps with the matches. Soon, three flames lit the sepulchral chamber.
The maid yelled down, "You shouldn't be in there. Poking around. You'll do yourselves a ghastly damage."
"Thank you," Brian called up to her politely.
"Just ignore her," sadi Gregory.
"You can't just ignore someone," said Brian.
"Watch me," said Gregory.
She slammed the door shut, up above.
They made their way to the bathing machine. Curling their fingers around the door, they yanked I open again.
There was the stuffed grouse.
Carefully, Brian lifted it and hoisted it out. He laid it on a crate of china. He recited, "Bird of the air, I answer the gust. With a long, sorrowed groan, I go where I must."
Gregory lifted up the grouse. He looked at the underside. He ran his thumbs along the wood, looking for buttons or catches.
"No groaning," he said. He rattled the grouse. "Not much going either."
Brian looked glum. "It was an idea," he said, shrugging.
"And a good one, too," said Gregory. "Don't let anyone tell you different."
They sighed and looked around the stacks of mess.
"Well?" whispered Gregory.
"We don't know what we're looking for, exactly," said Brian. "Just keep thinking of the riddle."
For ten minutes or so, they shifted crates. They found a dress with a bustle, to make a woman's rear look bigger. They found old long johns. They examined stacks of grimy dinner plates. They looked over a shipping crate that was addressed to Prudence. It was filled with little atomizers of perfume. They were labeled:
YOUNG LADIES! YOUNG LADIES!
You're no smelly APE if you use
Dr. Felix Weisenheimer's
MIRACULOUS PATENTED
DE-SCENTIFYING
PERFUME
"Guaranteed to Smell Like Nothing!"
They tried some on the back of Gregory's hand.
"Wow," Gregory said sarcastically, sniffing. "It really works. I don't smell like anything." He put it back.
From The Game of Sunken Places. Copyright © 2005 by M.T. Anderson.
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