CHAPTER 11

When Monsieur Sorbonne Got Home

When Monsieur Sorbonne got home, his life was out in the street. His telescope, his stuffed parakeet (he had forgotten all about that!), his hockey shoes, his hang-gliding wings, his drafting tools, his maps, his clothes, his books on flying and sailing and astronomy, his Dopp kit with its pig-bristle shaving brush (the only possession he owned which had once belonged to his real father)—had all been crammed in a pair of plastic garbage bags with twistee-lockems twisted tight around their necks.

Surprised, but not entirely alarmed, Monsieur Sorbonne approached the front door. “It’s all over, you fool,” said Miss Gutz in her sturdy but unpoetic way and slammed the door in his face.