Harold and Maude Read Online Free Page B

through her letters.
    â€œVery odd, too,” she said, “because I don’t speak Dutch. German, French, English, some Spanish, someItalian, and a little Japanese. But no Dutch. Of course, that’s nothing against the Dutch. I thought Queen Wilhelmina was a wonderful woman. Come inside, Harold. I’ll look at these later.”
    Harold walked into the house and put the books down on a table.
    â€œAbout those keys,” he persisted, as Maude hung up her hat and coat. “I still think you upset people when they find their car is gone, and I’m not sure that is right.”
    â€œWell,” she answered, “if some people are upset because they feel they have a hold on some things, then I’m merely acting as a gentle reminder. I’m sort of breaking it easy. Here today, gone tomorrow, so don’t get attached to
things
. Now, with that in mind, I’m not against collecting stuff. Why, look around you. I’ve collected quite a lot of stuff in my time.”
    Harold looked around the large living room and was struck by the odd assortment of furnishings. No two chairs were alike. The couch was covered with a Persian rug. Colorful canvases hung on the walls, a baby grand piano stood in one corner next to a huge carving of highly polished wood, and a samovar full of dried flowers sat on a tapa mat by the fireplace near some Japanese screens.
    â€œIt’s very … interesting,” said Harold, somewhat at a loss for words. “Very different.”
    â€œOh, it’s all foolish memorabilia,” said Maude, going over to the window. “Incidental but not integral, if you know what I mean. Oh, come look. The birds.”
    She opened the window and filled a small tin cup with seed. Then she released a spring that shot the cup out along a wire and dumped the seed on a bird table. Harold was impressed with the mechanical ingenuity of the device.
    â€œIsn’t that delightful?” said Maude. “This is my daily ritual. I love them so much. The only wild life I see any more. Look at them. Free as a bird.”
    She took the empty birdseed box into the kitchen. “At one time I used to break into pet shops and liberate the canaries, but I gave it up as an idea before its time. The zoos are full and the prisons overflowing. My, my. How the world so dearly loves a cage.”
    She looked out the window over the sink. “Look, Harold. There’s Madame Arouet cultivating her garden. Yoo-hoo!”
    She waved at the black-clad old woman diligently hoeing in her large vegetable patch, but the old woman didn’t notice.
    Maude sighed. “She’s really very sweet. But so old-fashioned. Please sit down, Harold. I’ll put on the kettle and we’ll have a nice hot cup of tea.”
    â€œThank you,” said Harold. “But I really have to go.”
    â€œIt’s oat straw tea. You’ve never had oat straw tea, have you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWell then.” She smiled and picked up the kettle.
    â€œNo, really. Thank you, but it’s an appointment I shouldn’t miss.”
    â€œOh, at the dentist’s.”
    â€œSort of.”
    â€œWell then, you must come back and visit.”
    â€œAll right,” said Harold and walked to the door.
    â€œMy door is always open.”
    â€œAll right.”
    â€œSee you soon.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œPromise?”
    Harold turned. “I promise,” he said, and smiled.
    D R. H ARLEY’S OFFICE CEILING was plastered and painted white. To the casual observer, thought Harold, it would look smooth, flat, and uninteresting.
    â€œHarold.”
    But to a searching eye and over a period of time, the craftsmanship of the painter and plasterer became visibly apparent, so that what had once seemed dull and ordinary became fascinatingly impressionistic.
    â€œHarold.”
    A layer of plaster became a craggy desert of light and shade, and a swirl of paint evoked the