First published in the USA by Harper and Row 1964
First published in Great Britain by Collins 1980
This edition published by HarperCollins Childrenâs Books 2016
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Text copyright © Louise Fitzhugh 1968
Illustrations by Louise Fitzhugh
Cover illustration © Lizzy Stewart 2016
Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers, Ltd 2016
Louise Fitzhugh asserts the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of the work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
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Source ISBN: 9780007333868
Ebook Edition © 2016 ISBN: 9780007393121
Version: 2016-04-19
HARRIET WAS TRYING to explain to Sport how to play Town. âSee, first you make up the name of the town. Then you write down the names of all the people who live in it. You canât have too many or it gets too hard. I usually have twenty-five.â
âUmmmm.â Sport was tossing a football in the air. They were in the courtyard of Harrietâs house on East Eighty-seventh Street in Manhattan.
âThen when you know who lives there, you make up what they do. For instance, Mr Charles Hanley runs the filling station on the corner.â Harriet spoke thoughtfully as she squatted next to the big tree, bending so low over her notebook that her long straight hair touched the edges.
âDonâtcha wanta play football?â Sport asked.
âNow, listen, Sport, you never did this and itâs fun. Now over here next to this curve in the mountain weâll put the filling station. So if anything happens there, you remember where it is.â
Sport tucked the football under his arm and walked over to her. âThatâs nothing but an old tree root. Whaddya mean, a mountain?â
âThatâs a mountain. From now on thatâs a mountain. Got it?â Harriet looked up into his face.
Sport moved back a pace. âLooks like an old tree root,â he muttered.
Harriet pushed her hair back and looked at him seriously. âSport, what are you going to be when you grow up?â
âYou know what. You know Iâm going to be a ball player.â
âWell, Iâm going to be a writer. And when I say thatâs a mountain, thatâs a mountain.â Satisfied, she turned back to her town.
Sport put the football gently on the ground and knelt beside her, looking over her shoulder at the notebook in which she scribbled furiously.
âNow, as soon as youâve got all the menâs names down, and their wivesâ names and their childrenâs names, then you figure out all their professions. Youâve got to have a doctor, a lawyerââ
âAnd an Indian chief,â Sport interrupted.
âNo. Someone who works in television.â
âWhat makes you think they have television?â
âI say they do. And, anyway, my father has to be in it, doesnât he?â
âWell, then put mine in too. Put a writer in it.â
âOK, we can make Mr Jonathan Fishbein a writer.â
âAnd let him have a son like me who cooks for him.â Sport rocked back and forth on his heels, chanting in singsong, âAnd let him be eleven years old like me, and let him have a mother who went away and has all the money, and let him grow up to be a ball player.â
âNooo,â Harriet said in disgust. âThen youâre not making it up. Donât you understand?â
Sport paused. âNo,â he said.
âJust listen, Sport. See, now that we have all this written down, Iâll show you where the fun is.â Harriet got very businesslike. She stood up, then got on her knees in the soft September mud so she could lean over the little valley made between the two big roots of the tree. She referred to her notebook every now and then, but for the most part she stared intently at the mossy lowlands which made her town. âNow, one night, late at night, Mr Charles Hanley is in his filling station. He is just about to turn out the lights and go home because it is nine oâclock and time for him to get ready for bed.â
âBut heâs a grown-up!â Sport looked intently at the spot occupied by the gas station.