Chapter One

  Violet Corydon sat in the parlor with her sister, Isabel. They waited and waited. Finally Isabel spoke up. "Violet," she began timidly. "When will  Mr. Warren be back to tell us what the doctor said?" Violet shook her head slowly. "I don't know, Isabel. I really don't know. Hopefully he won't have to come back because Father is alright," she answered. Isabel stomped her foot. "Why did Mr. Whitney let that accident happen?" she shouted. Violet glared at her sister. "Isabel, hush. It was not Mr. Whitney's fault. The ladder snapped while Father was on it. Nobody could have prevented it."

   "Of course somebody could have! If they checked their equipment, they would see that it was breaking and Father would never have been on it!" she shot back. "Isabel, you hush. Would Father be proud of the way you are acting? Throwing a tantrum? You're twelve years old, Isabel. Grow up. If not for me, for Father!" Isabel hung her head, fighting back tears. She nodded silently. Both girls sat quietly for another ten minutes or so. Finally, Mr. Warren entered the room and broke the akward silence.

  "Well, girls I have some mixed news for you," he said as he sat down. Isabel winced. He was sitting in Father's chair. "Is Father alright?" Violet asked cautiosly. Mr. Warren sighed. He was an impatient man, who never liked to answer questions. "Well, yes and no. He will be fine, but it could take a long time. About three months if everything goes smoothly. They almost never do, so all I can tell you is a rough guess. Possibly up to six if we encounter a lot of problems. He's suffered a mild concussion and several broken bones," he answered gruffly. Isabel gasped. "Six months? That's half a year!"

  Mr. Warren put his hand up. "Now, it's not likely at all. However, he doesn't want you two on your own for that long. You'll be going to live with your Aunt Carmelia in Lancaster." Violet's eyes widened. "But... that's in Missouri! We've only met Aunt Carmelia a... a few times! Only two that I can recall, even! You can't possibly be... serious, Mr. Warren," she stuttered. His face remained hard and emotionless.

  "Girls, I'm afraid that your father's descision is final. You leave tomorrow morning on the Scoby Line," Mr. Warren declared as he walked out of the parlor, leaving the girls in shock. Slowly, Violet stood up and said, "Well, I suppose we'd better start packing. We are to leave tomorrow, after all."

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