Jeanne Birdsall - The Penderwicks Collection

THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A. KNOPF

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The Penderwicks copyright 2005 by Jeanne Birdsall
The Penderwicks on Gardam Street copyright 2008 by Jeanne Birdsall
The Penderwicks at Point Mouette copyright 2011 by Jeanne Birdsall
Cover art copyright 2005 by David Frankland

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of Random House Childrens Books, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York. The Penderwicks, The Penderwicks on Gardam Street, and The Penderwicks at Point Mouette were published separately by Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of Random House Childrens Books, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York.

Knopf, Borzoi Books, and the colophon are registered trademarks of Random House LLC.

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Ebook ISBN 978-0-553-51254-0

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v3.1

For Bluey

F OR A LONG TIME AFTER THAT SUMMER , the four Penderwick sisters still talked of Arundel. Fate drove us there, Jane would say. No, it was the greedy landlord who sold our vacation house on Cape Cod, someone else would say, probably Skye.

Who knew which was right? But it was true that the beach house they usually rented had been sold at the last minute, and the Penderwicks were suddenly without summer plans. Mr. Penderwick called everywhere, but Cape Cod was booked solid, and his daughters were starting to think they would be spending their whole vacation at home in Cameron, Massachusetts. Not that they didnt love Cameron, but what is summer without a trip to somewhere special? Then, out of the blue, Mr. Penderwick heard through a friend of a friend about a cottage in the Berkshire Mountains. It had plenty of bedrooms and a big fenced-in pen for a dogperfect for big, black, clumsy, lovable Hound Penderwickand it was available to be rented for three weeks in August. Mr. Penderwick snatched it up, sight unseen.

He didnt know what he was getting us into, Batty would say. Rosalind always said, Its too bad Mommy never saw Arundelshe would have loved the gardens. And Jane would say, There are much better gardens in heaven. And Mommy will never have to bump into Mrs. Tifton in heaven, Skye added to make her sisters laugh. And laugh they would, and the talk would move on to other things, until the next time someone remembered Arundel.

But all that is in the future. When our story begins, Batty is still only four years old. Rosalind is twelve, Skye eleven, and Jane ten. Theyre in their car with Mr. Penderwick and Hound. The family is on the way to Arundel and, unfortunately, theyre lost.

Its Battys fault, said Skye.

It is not, said Batty.

Of course it is, said Skye. We wouldnt be lost if Hound hadnt eaten the map, and Hound wouldnt have eaten the map if you hadnt hidden your sandwich in it.

Maybe its fate that Hound ate the map. Maybe well discover something wonderful while were lost, said Jane.

Well discover that when Im in the backseat for too long with my younger sisters, I go insane and murder them, said Skye.

Steady, troops, said Mr. Penderwick. Rosalind, how about a game?

Lets do I Went to the Zoo and I Saw, said Rosalind. I went to the zoo and I saw an anteater. Jane?

I went to the zoo and I saw an anteater and a buffalo, said Jane.

Batty was between Jane and Skye, so it was her turn next. I went to the zoo and I saw an anteater, a buffalo, and a cangaroo.

Kangaroo starts with a k, not a c, said Skye.

It does not. It starts with a c, like cat, said Batty.

Just take your turn, Skye, said Rosalind.

Theres no point in playing if we dont do it right.

Rosalind, who was sitting in the front seat with Mr. Penderwick, turned around and gave Skye her oldest-sister glare. It wouldnt do much, Rosalind knew. After all, Skye was only one year younger than she was. But it might quiet her long enough for Rosalind to concentrate on where they were going. They really were badly lost. This trip should have taken an hour and a half, and already theyd been on the road for three. Rosalind looked over at her father in the drivers seat. His glasses were slipping down his nose and he was humming his favorite Beethoven symphony, the one about spring. Rosalind knew this meant he was thinking about plantshe was a professor of botanyinstead of about his driving.

Daddy, she said, what do you remember about the map?

Were supposed to go past a little town called Framley, then make a few turns and look for number eleven Stafford Street.

Didnt we see Framley a while ago? And look, she said, pointing out the window. Weve been past those cows before.

Good eyes, Rosy, he said. But werent we going in the other direction last time? Maybe this way will do the trick.

No, because all we saw along here were more cow fields, remember?

Oh, yes. Mr. Penderwick stopped the car, turned it around, and went back the other way.

We need to find someone who can give us directions, said Rosalind.

We need to find a helicopter that can airlift us out of here, said Skye. And keep your stupid wings to yourself! She was talking to Batty, who, as always, was wearing her beloved orange-and-black butterfly wings.

Theyre not stupid, said Batty.

Woof, said Hound from his place among the boxes and suitcases in the very back of the car. He took Battys side in every discussion.

Lost and weary, the brave explorers and their faithful beast argued among themselves. Only Sabrina Starr remained calm, said Jane. Sabrina Starr was the heroine of books that Jane wrote. She rescued things. In the first book, it was a cricket. Then came Sabrina Starr Rescues a Baby Sparrow, Sabrina Starr Rescues a Turtle, and, most recently, Sabrina Starr Rescues a Groundhog. Rosalind knew that Jane was looking for ideas on what Sabrina should rescue next. Skye had suggested a man-eating crocodile, who would devour the heroine and put an end to the series, but the rest of the family had shouted her down. They enjoyed Janes books.

There was a loud oomph in the backseat. Rosalind glanced around to make sure violence hadnt broken out, but it was only Batty struggling with her car seatshe was trying to twist herself backward to see Hound. Jane was jotting in her favorite blue notebook. So they were both all right. But Skye was blowing out her cheeks and imitating a fish, which meant she was even more bored than Rosalind had feared. Theyd better find this cottage soon.