Harriet the Spy
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Harriet M. Welsch is a spy. In her notebook, she writes down everything she knows about everyone, even her classmates and her best friends. Then Harriet loses track of her notebook, and it ends up in the wrong hands. Before she can stop them, her friends have read the always truthful, sometimes awful things she’s written about each of them. Will Harriet find a way to put her life and her friendships back together?
they never even read anything. They bought things and brought them home and then they had people in to look at them. Otherwise they didn’t seem to do a blessed thing. The doorbell rang. “Ah,” said Mrs. Robinson. “There they are now.” She got up sedately and walked slowly, even though she had obviously been sitting there waiting for the ring. She looked critically as Mr. Robinson adjusted his smoking jacket, then went to the door. “Come in, Jack, Martha, how lovely to see you. It’s been so
never poked anyone in their whole lives. It made Harriet feel better to try and quote like Ole Golly, so she wrote: THE SINS OF THE FATHER That was all she knew from the Bible besides the shortest verse: “Jesus wept.” Class began and all was forgotten in the joy of writing Harriet M. Welsch at the top of the page. Halfway through the class Harriet saw a tiny piece of paper float to the floor on her right. Ah-ha, she thought, the chickens; they are making up already. She reached down to get
and down away from his body. She wrote in her notebook: THERE IS NO REST FOR THE WEARY. As she looked up she saw Marion Hawthorne turn swiftly in her direction. Then suddenly she was looking full at Marion Hawthorne’s tongue out at her, and a terribly ugly face around the tongue, with eyes all screwed up and pulled down by two fingers so that the whole thing looked as though Marion Hawthorne were going to be carted away to the hospital. Harriet glanced quickly at Miss Elson. Miss Elson was
I think we should listen to him.” “Of course, I think it’s all grand. And he says she’s not mumble?” “Not in the least. In fact, quite the mumble. She’s an extraordinary mumble and might make a good mumble someday.” How infuriating. Just what one dreams will happen. I’ve always wanted to hear people talk about me, thought Harriet, and now I can’t hear it. Suddenly the doorknob turned. Harriet leaped back but not quickly enough. She decided to make the best of a bad scene. “BOO,” she said
who was called Lisa Quackenbush. She was a tallish girl who spit a lot when she talked and who seemed to find Harriet as funny as a TV comedian. Harriet couldn’t see anything funny whatever in what she was relating to Miss Quackenbush and so made some rapid notes after leaving the office. MISS QUACKENBUSH IS EITHER INSANE OR SHE HAS A VERY NERVOUS LAUGH. The week after the conference there appeared on the Sixth Grade Page the following announcement. It was placed quite prominently in the