Westlake, Donald E - Novel 25 (2 page)

 
          
 
What Philip needed was some dirt.

 
          
 
But there just isn't very
much dirt around an apartment house.
There's dust, especially under the
beds and in the backs of the closets, but that never gets deep enough to dig
in. And what else is there? Outside, the ground is all covered with cement and
asphalt and cobblestones. Inside, the ground is all covered with wooden floors
and tile and rugs.

 
          
 
Still, Philip now had himself a dump truck,
and he did want to operate that dump truck, right away. The problem was to find
some dirt.

 
          
 
Philip went back to the kitchen. He said to
his mother, "Mom, where can I find some dirt?"

 
          
 
"Some what?" his mother asked.

 
          
 
"Some dirt.
To dig in, with this dump truck here."

 
          
 
"Oh, dirt!
Well,
I'll tell you what. This Sunday, we'll all

 
go
over to the park,
you and your father and I, and you can play with your new truck there, how's
that?"

 
          
 
"Yes, but what about right now?"
Philip said.

 
          
 
"Philip, I have a million things to do
right now."

 
          
 
Philip walked around the kitchen with the dump
truck in his arms. "I sure wish I could find some dirt," he said.

 
          
 
His mother said, "The next time we visit
Grandma you can take the truck along with you. She's got plenty of dirt around
her house."

 
          
 
"I sure wish I could find some dirt right
now," said Philip.

 
          
 
"You go on out of the kitchen," his
mother told him. "I'm busy."

 
          
 
So Philip walked around and around the
apartment, carrying the dump truck in his arms. He walked from the kitchen to
the living
room,
and from the living room to his
bedroom, and from his bedroom to his parents' bedroom, and . . .

 
          
 
...
he
saw the window
box.
In the window.
In his parents'
bedroom.

 
          
 
In the winter the window box was always full
of snow. In the spring it was always full of seeds. In the summer it was always
full of flowers. But now it was autumn, and there was nothing in the window box
but dirt.

 
          
 
DIRT!

 
          
 
The window box was just wide enough for the
truck. Philip put it down at one end and pushed the buttons. When the truck was
full of dirt he drove it down to the other end of the window box and dumped the
dirt out again.

 
          
 
It worked fine. Everything was A-OK.

 
          
 
Philip made the dump truck work again.
And again.
And again.

 
          
 
Some of the dirt fell over the side of the
window box, but there was still plenty left.
More than
enough.

 
          
 
Philip kept working.

 
          
 
Then all at once Philip's mother came in and
said, "So it's true."

 
          
 
Philip said, "What's true?"

 
          
 
"Mister Neep just called me,"
Philip's mother said, "and told me you spilled dirt all over the top of
his hat."

 
          
 
Philip said, "Me?"

 
          
 
"Just look out the window," said his
mother.

 
          
 
So Philip looked out the window, being very
careful to

hold
on. He leaned over the top of the window
box and looked down toward the ground.

 
          
 
It was true all right. Way down there, his
brass buttons shining in the sunlight, was Mister Neep. He was holding his hat
in his hand and looking up. When he saw Philip, he shook his fist. That was to
let Philip know he was not at all pleased.

 
          
 
"You can't play in the window box,"
said Philip's mother. "The next thing you know, you'll drop your new truck
on Mister Neep's head, and that wouldn't be so good."

 
          
 
"I'll play somewhere else," said
Philip.

 
          
 
"Good," said his mother.

 
          
 
So Philip walked around and around the
apartment again, looking for someplace else with dirt. But there wasn't
anyplace else with dirt, nowhere in the apartment.

 
          
 
After a while Philip went to the kitchen and
said to his mother, "I'm going out and play."

 
          
 
"All right," said his mother.
"And you be sure and tell Mister Neep you're sorry you spilled dirt on his
hat."

 
          
 
"I will," said Philip.

 
          
 
Down in the elevator went Philip, carrying his
dump truck. He went outside in the sunlight. Mister Neep was standing there
with his arms folded. He was still angry, and he looked as big as a mountain.

 
          
 
^m. j.