“Swell. How can I clean this place if I can’t see what I’m doing?” I asked, wasting good sarcasm on an empty barn. Moving gingerly along the wall, I touched a large, round, metallic object that felt nothing like a light switch. It clattered to the floor. I slid my foot around until I found it, then carried it across to the door for a closer look. It was a flat metal sieve, covered with cobwebs, red with rust, and bigger than any sieve I’d ever seen.
“’Tis a riddle,” said a voice in my ear.
I whirled around. It was the kid I’d met at the bridge.
“Why, you’re still dressed up as Washington!” I exclaimed.
The boy’s bright blue eyes crinkled with amusement. “’Tis my only costume. My mother had little time to make me fancy duds.”
“I know what you mean. My mom’s never been much for sewing, either,” I said, relieved to have some common ground with this guy. “She’d rather spend her spare time reading.”
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