Goop Tales, Page 30


Jardad was never happy unless he was making a loud noise. He loved to rattle a stick along the balusters, the way Erlydyn did, in the mornings, and everywhere he went he stamped his feet and slammed the doors and yelled and pounded and banged things about. He has just found an old tin cracker box, and he is making believe it is a drum, pounding away at it with his hammer till Poutine is frightened and has dropped her basket. Quarling has lain down under the sofa, with his sword, behaving unusually well, for him. Of course, Jardad didn’t know that his mother had a sick headache, or he wouldn’t have made so much noise. He ought to have known, for he could see his mother’s smelling salts and medicine on the little table. After he had pounded a hole through the cracker tin, he kicked it downstairs, then he came back and slammed the door, and played with the curtain shade till it flew up with a bang. He made so much noise that he didn’t hear his mother when she said, “Oh, please be a little quieter! Why must you make such a racket? Are you a Goop?”


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