Harriet the Spy, Double Agent
““What does she bring for lunch?”
“Who?” said Harriet irritably, though she knew full well there was only one “she” on Sport’s mind these days.
“Yolanda.” Sport’s voice went from tenor to bass and back.
Harriet put her hand up to one ear and adopted the nasal twang of a phone operator. “I’m sorry, there’s no listing for that name—”
“All right, all right, Annie. What kind of bread does she use for her sandwiches?
White, whole wheat, rye?”
“There’s no pattern,” said Harriet.... “Her aunt doesn’t have a clue what goes into a school lunch. Today she had leftover Chinese takeout and a corn muffin.” Sport made a face. Behind the counter, Papa Dei Santi straightened his apron and pulled on the string that flipped over the customer numbers. “Eighty-six,” he mumbled.
“That’s me,”MoreLess
“Who?” said Harriet irritably, though she knew full well there was only one “she” on Sport’s mind these days.
“Yolanda.” Sport’s voice went from tenor to bass and back.
Harriet put her hand up to one ear and adopted the nasal twang of a phone operator. “I’m sorry, there’s no listing for that name—”
“All right, all right, Annie. What kind of bread does she use for her sandwiches?
White, whole wheat, rye?”
“There’s no pattern,” said Harriet.... “Her aunt doesn’t have a clue what goes into a school lunch. Today she had leftover Chinese takeout and a corn muffin.” Sport made a face. Behind the counter, Papa Dei Santi straightened his apron and pulled on the string that flipped over the customer numbers. “Eighty-six,” he mumbled.
“That’s me,”MoreLess
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