"Who Could That Be at This Hour?" (All the Wrong Questions) by Lemony Snicket Page A

just about to take a walk to the mailbox to deliver these things.”
    “Wait until our search is over,” HarveyMitchum said, “and we’ll drive you there ourselves.”
    “Young people shouldn’t be out at this hour,” Mimi Mitchum said. “The Bombinating Beast might get you.”
    “That’s a myth,” I said.
    “Ignore the bell and you’ll find out,” the male Mitchum said, and brushed past me to peer around the cottage. Ellington hefted a parcel into my hands that was about the size of a milk bottle. It was wrapped in newspaper, and I saw she’d hurriedly put a few stamps on it and scrawled an address:
S. THEODORA MARKSON
THE LOST ARMS
STAIN’D-BY-THE-SEA
    The officers began rifling through Ellington’s things, and she and I stood at the doorstep of thecottage. “Why didn’t you address the package to me?” I whispered to her.
    “I thought it would be suspicious if I were mailing a package to someone who was standing right next to me,” she replied.
    “Is the mail delivery reliable here?” I asked.
    “Yes,” she said. “You should have it by tomorrow morning. Surprisingly, delivery around here is very fast.”
    I tucked the wrapped statue under my arm. I had been told that if I found someone suitable during my apprenticeship, I could recommend them to our organization as a new member. It was too soon to make that decision, but it didn’t feel too soon to smile at Ellington as the Mitchums muttered to themselves inside the cottage until they gave up.
    “We give up,” Harvey Mitchum said. “There’s no statue in this cottage.”
    I took one step so I was standing outside.“That’s definitely true,” I said. “Well, thanks for stopping by.”
    “Not so fast,” Mimi Mitchum said. “We’re driving you both to the mailbox and then home. I don’t know what you ruffians are up to, but it’s over for tonight. Get in the car and say hello to our adorable son.”
    Ellington and I followed the Officers Mitchum to their run-down station wagon and piled into the backseat, where Stew was waiting for us with a sleepy yawn and a cruel smile. “Lemony!” he said in the friendly voice he used to fool his parents. “It’s so wonderful to see you again!”
    I nodded at him, and he reached out his hand and gave me a hard pinch on the arm that the Officers Mitchum did not see. Ellington saw it, though, and reached forward herself and grabbed his wrist. Stew frowned, and I saw her fingernails digging into his skin. “It’s lovely tomeet you, Stew,” she said. “I just know you and I are going to be lifelong friends.”
    Stew made a high-pitched sound certain boys find embarrassing, and we rode the rest of the way in silence. When we arrived in town, Mimi Mitchum brought the car to a squeaky halt and watched as Ellington and I dropped our packages into a lonely, scratched-up mailbox. The hinges of the mailbox door made a rough, unpleasant noise, and I was reluctant to drop my package in. So you’re reluctant, I said to myself. Many, many people are reluctant. It’s like having feet. It’s nothing to brag about. The package made a muffled clunk as it landed, and then we got back into the station wagon and drove the short, empty distance to the Lost Arms. I thanked the officers for the ride and gave Ellington a secret smile and a wave and Stew nothing at all. The lobby of the Lost Arms was empty except for Prosper Lost,who was murmuring something into the telephone. I stopped for a moment by the plaster statue of the woman without arms or clothes and suddenly felt how tired I was.
    “Yes,” I said to her. “I suppose I’m in trouble,” and I headed up the stairs to see.



CHAPTER EIGHT
    Scolding must be very, very fun, otherwise children would be allowed to do it. It is not because children don’t have what it takes to scold. You need only three things, really. You need time, to think up scolding things to say. You need effort, to put these scolding things in a good order, so that the scolding