Snyder, Zilpha Keatley (17 page)

a Christmas story.”

Late the next afternoon April and Melanie lay across April’s bed and chatted. They were stuffed to contented laziness with Christmas dinner and they had been down to Melanie’s apartment to look at her presents and then up to look at April’s.

They had talked about Christmas and presents until the subject was exhausted and then they began to talk about the keys and the Professor and what he’d said the evening before.

They just lay there for a while, dreaming and digesting, and then Melanie suddenly sat up. “I feel sad,” she said.

April made a “why?” expression. “Oh, I don’t know,” Melanie said. “It’s about Egypt. Going back and everything. It seems like it won’t be the same.”

“Yeah,” April said. “I thought about that, too.”

“We’ll go back, thinking it will be so terrific-and what will we do? The same things all over again? We’ve done just about everything exciting about,

Egypt”

“Yeah, and it’s just awful when you go back to something that was so great the way you remembered it and it’s no good any more. It even ruins remembering.”

Melanie nodded tragically and they both collapsed again. They lay there, staring into the future gloomily

for a while, their chins on their hands. Then April turned towards Melanie, slowly and thoughtfully.

“Melanie,” she said, “what do you know about gypsies?”