CHAPTER 8
AUNT BESSIE AND UNCLE EPHRAIM
Mr. and Mrs. Ephraim Carruthers traveled a thousand miles from their home in Clarksville, Missouri on the banks of the Mississippi River to the port of New York to meet their nephew Kit from the exotic land of Bangalla. A few of their friends from Clarksville were also in New York at the time on business trips, and joined them at the wharf. Bessie Carruthers, though stout, had some of the beauty of her younger sister, Kit's mother. Bessie was a fluttering, talkative warmhearted person, president of the Clarksville Garden Club and active in local literary circles. Her husband, Ephraim was a successful businessman with a lumberyard.
As they awaited the arrival of the ship, Bessie was a bit vague about Kit and his parents, because she really didn't know much about them. The father was a rich planter, she believed, and young Kit was arriving with his personal valet. This impressed their friends. No one had a personal valet in Clarksville.
As the ship passed the Statue of Liberty, Kit and Guran were crowded at the railings with the other passengers. The boys mistook the statue for a religious idol, and Guran thought the skyline of skyscrapers was a mountain range. When they reached the docks, Guran dashed back to their cabin, and was reluctant to leave. He had seen the crowds of people waiting, and seen how they dressed. He was ashamed to go ashore wearing only Kit's shirt over his loincloth. But Kit was impatient to go ashore.
"It's hot out there," he said. "All you need is the loincloth." They had arrived during one of Manhattan's summer hot spells. Guran refused. He wanted a jacket and trousers like Kit's. This was a dilemma, since Kit had only one suit. He solved it impatiently by giving the suit to Guran. It was several sizes too large for the pygmy, but Guran looked at himself proudly in the mirror, obviously delighted. A steward knocked on the door. He announced that they had been cleared through customs and he would take them to a party waiting for them ashore. Grabbing Guran's hand, Kit dashed excitedly onto the deck. The steward stared at the odd pair, but he had learned not to question the unusual boy.
And while awaiting Kit, Aunt Bessie had become more eloquent about her nephew's family, to impress her neighbors from Clarksville. "The father-his name is Walker- owns thousands of acres out there. In the highest society
world travelers, a dozen servants, entertain crowned heads of Europe and on and on. The friends were impressed and waited expectantly. The steward came to the group.
"Mrs. Carruthers? Your nephew is coming now."
Kit and Guran raced down the gangplank. Hundreds of heads turned to look at them in amazement. Kit, lean and bronzed from the sun, wearing only a loincloth. Little Guran, an oversize suit hanging on him like a sack, the sleeves falling far below his hands, the trousers covering his feet. The Carruthers party stared. Was this the wealthy nephew and his personal valet? Aunt Bessie was speechless. But their meeting was interrupted by a small truck that rumbled across the dock toward them, blowing its horn. Instantly, both Kit and Guran raced up a nearby telephone pole. Neither had ever seen an automobile or heard an auto horn. Their instant reaction, learned in the jungle and done almost without thinking, was the same given to any large land animal that suddenly rushed out of the bush. Climb a tree, fast. You don't stop to investigate whether it's a rhino, hippo, elephant or water buffalo charging at you. Move-climb a tree-then investigate.
The crowd on the dock, not knowing why, cheered, and laughed. The friends from Clarksville looked at each other, mystified. Aunt Bessie was stunned. But Uncle Ephraim, a hardheaded practical man, was neither mystified nor stunned. "A savage," he muttered. "Is this what your sister sent us?" Aunt Bessie glared at him. Her mind cleared. If Ephraim disapproved of anything, that meant she was for it. She strode determinedly to the telephone post, her big flower hat bobbing on her head, and looked up.
"Come down. That truck won't hurt you. I am your Aunt Bessie." Kit flushed. After the first moment up the pole, he had known what it was from his schoolbooks. An auto. He dropped twenty feet to the dock, landing on all fours like a cat. The watching crowd gasped. Kit looked at the uncertain, smiling face before him, and he saw something of his mother there. He embraced her.
"Hello, Aunt Bessie. I am Kit." A figure plopped to the dock next to him. "And this is Guran. He's my friend."
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