Henry didn’t know what Mr. Duffy had said that had made Rose cry, but things hadn’t been quite the same since.
Rose didn’t come to visit as often, and when she did, she seemed a little sad.
And Mavis hadn’t come to the gatehouse at all.
And Mr. Duffy just wasn’t himself.
For one thing, he’d stopped whistling.
He used to whistle while he made hot dogs for supper.
He whistled when he gathered his fishing gear and headed for the lake, calling for Henry to come with him.
And he whistled when he tidied up the trailer, putting his old leather slippers neatly under the bed, taking wet towels out to the clothesline to dry, and washing the plastic bowl that Henry ate out of beside the kitchen table.
Lucky for Henry, Mr. Duffy still tore off pieces of his hot dog and tossed them into the bowl, but things didn’t feel the same as they had a few days ago. Henry was pretty sure it had to do with whatever Mr. Duffy had told Rose that made her cry.
So when Mr. Duffy went for walks down by the lake, his head down and his hands clasped behind his back, Henry made sure he stayed right beside him.
And when Mr. Duffy sat on the lumpy couch and watched TV until he fell asleep, Henry lay at his feet, resting his head on Mr. Duffy’s slipper.
And when Mr. Duffy woke up in front of the TV and ambled off to bed, Henry followed along and settled in among the sheets next to him, waiting until he heard Mr. Duffy’s snoring before he allowed himself to drift off.
Some nights, while he waited for Mr. Duffy to snore, Henry thought about this new life he was living.
He had never slept in the glow of a television before.
He had never snuggled in the sheets of a person’s bed before.
He had never even eaten a tuna fish sandwich before.
This life sure was different from his life at Wonderland.
More than anything, he hoped he could stay here with Mr. Duffy in the little trailer by the lake.