Mary Louise lived on the other side of the Thompson twins. Tugs passed the library, tempted to go in and look up Priscilla in the dictionary, hoping desperately that it was a word, that it meant something, but the two sisters were out on their porch waving furiously.

“Leopold is stuck in the apple tree!” they hollered. “Help us get him down!”

Tugs hesitated. She really wanted to get to Mary Louise’s house, but no one could say no to the insistent mews of that orange mound of feline.

Leopold outsized most raccoons. His belly hung so low he collected all manner of leaves and ground scraps, which he then left on the library carpet every time someone let his shaggy self through the door. You could always tell where Leopold had been when you went into the library, as there was a trail of leaves and grass marking his path, like Hansel and Gretel’s crumbs. Usually he went to the children’s area, because he got lots of attention there until somebody’s mother shooed him out. Then he went scurrying in a straight line for the door, mewing as if maimed.

How a cat that fat had gotten himself up in the apple tree Tugs couldn’t imagine. But sure enough, there he was, the tiny sisters carrying on beneath the tree.

“Whose girl are you?” demanded one.

“What happened to your head? You should put a hat over that mop!” said the other.

“She looks familiar. Is she a Lindholm, do you suppose? A Stump?”

Tugs smoothed her hair with one hand. She could never tell the Thompson twins apart. Before Tugs could answer their questions, the second one admonished the first. “I don’t see how it matters whose girl she is. She has long arms. She’s tall. She looks like she could climb a tree.”

Tugs had fallen out of her share of trees, but Leopold was on the lowest limb. Still, tiny as the two sisters were, they couldn’t reach him.

“We’ve called and called,” the one said indignantly. “I don’t know why he doesn’t come down.”

“He hasn’t eaten all day,” said the other. “He’s never climbed this tree before.”

“He’s never climbed any tree before.”

“He never strays off this porch.”

Tugs knew different but didn’t say anything. The sisters didn’t see too sharply through their thick glasses. Tugs had seen Leopold at the library, up trees, and sauntering as far away as the Ward’s Ben Franklin. She didn’t know where the sisters thought he was during those long absences. Maybe they had a fat sofa pillow that they thought was simply Leopold sleeping.

Tugs stood underneath the apple tree and looked up at Leopold. He hissed at her.

“What are you doing to him?” one sister gasped.

“Nothing, ma’am!” Tugs exclaimed. “I’m just looking at him.”

“Well, do it quieter. Leopold is delicate. Loud noises upset him.”

Tugs laughed but then saw that the sisters were serious. They were not aware that Leopold was the king of chaos. When he sauntered into the church on hot Sunday mornings, he’d sing right along with the rest of the congregation. And whine to beat the band when the singing stopped, which is when some usher or another would be forced to escort him from the building and close the door to the hope of a breeze.

She stood there a moment longer, then reached out her arms fast and grabbed Leopold. He yowled but she held him tight, staggering under the weight of him. Tugs delivered Leopold to the front porch.

“No, no, inside,” demanded one sister, escorting Tugs through the door held open by the other sister.

“Here,” she said, patting the middle cushion on the sofa. “He likes this spot best.”

As soon as Tugs loosed her grip, Leopold bolted for the bathroom, where he could be heard lapping water from the commode.

“Oh, dear,” tittered the two sisters together.

“The poor thing must have been so thirsty. I hope you flushed, Elmira.”

“Eldora!” gasped Elmira. “Not in front of the C-H-I-L-D.”

“I’m sure she can spell, dear.”

As they continued bickering, Tugs took in the room around her. She’d never thought to wonder what was inside the two sisters’ house. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this. On every surface were photographs in tiny ornate frames. On every wall between every window there were larger frames, all photographs. There were portraits and landscapes and pictures of Leopold. There were pictures of the sisters when they were young.

There were cameras lined up on shelves, models Tugs had never seen before. She wished she’d brought her Brownie.

She reached out her hand to touch one of the cameras.

“Don’t touch!” screeched Eldora.

Tugs snapped her arm back to her side and took a step back.

“I’m sorry!” she said.

“Now you’ve gone and scared the child,” said Elmira. “And she just rescued our Leopold.” Elmira took down the camera and handed it to Tugs.

“Isn’t it a beauty?” she said. “That one was my very first. Eldora got one, too — we always got everything at the same time — but she dropped hers and it broke. So we had to share this one.”

“I dropped mine, too,” said Tugs, turning the camera over in her hand. “But it doesn’t look like this one. I won it at the Independence Day raffle.”

“So you have yourself a Brownie,” said Elmira. “We have fourteen Brownies between us, Eldora and me. We love the Brownies. When they came out in colors this year, we each bought a blue one. Here, we keep them in the kitchen. Come see.”

Tugs forgot about the Marys then. She forgot about her clunky name, her bobbed hair, even G.O. and Harvey Moore. Eldora and Elmira were thrilled to have an interested audience. They guided Tugs through their camera collection and their photographs like docents at a museum. And for Tugs it was like going to a museum. Only better because she got to touch things.

“We used to be famous,” said Eldora.

“In a Goodhue kind of way,” said Elmira.

“Yes, when there was a newspaper in Goodhue, we took the photographs.”

“Really?” said Tugs.

Eldora went to the pantry and pulled a tall album out from between the jars of beans and tomatoes. She opened it on the table.

“See for yourself.” She pointed to a clipping of a somber-looking man who looked familiar to Tugs.

“This is Mr. Jackson,” said Elmira. “We had our cameras with us, as usual, and we were sitting in a booth down at Al and Irene’s across from Mr. Jackson, who bought us a nip now and again, didn’t he used to do that, Sissy?”

“Sure, he did,” said Eldora. “Mr. Everett came running through the door to report the death of President McKinley, and Mr. Jackson’s face went like this here.” She tapped her finger on Mr. Jackson’s countenance. “And I just held up my Kodak and . . . click.”

“The newspaper, they liked those sorts of photographs. Raw emotion, they call it. And not many people had cameras in those days. We snapped a few more around town that day, then made them up and brought them down to the newspaper office, and there you have it.”

“Paid us, too, they did,” added Elmira.

“Now we don’t have a paper,” said Eldora. She shook her head. “Too bad, too.”

“The library has copies of all of the old papers, though,” said Elmira. “We visit them sometimes.”

“And thanks to yours truly, we’re going to have a new newspaper in town. How about that?”

“A new . . . ?” Tugs started.

“Why, yes, that dashing gentleman was here just yesterday, or day before.”

“Dashing gentleman?” Tugs asked.

“What was his name, Sissy?” said Eldora. “Ford? Door?”

“Moore?” said Tugs. “Was his name Harvey Moore?”

“That’s the one!” said Elmira.

“Such a nice man,” said Eldora.

“What did he want?” asked Tugs.

“Want? Why, he didn’t want anything. He was here to offer us an opportunity. We said we’d have to think about it, of course, but he said we could exchange our late daddy’s (bless his soul) shares of Standard Oil for a founding share of his new venture. A newspaper! Imagine. He thinks two old ladies could be at the forefront of progress.”

“Mr. Millhouse down at the bank is going to change our securities for cash. Mr. Moore is stopping back to collect before he goes back to Chicago to get the printing press and such.”

“He took quite a shine to Leopold, too,” said Elmira.

“Oh, but Leopold was being naughty. He diddled on that nice man’s shoe. Leopold is particular about people, but not usually that particular.”

“Now, what about your pictures?” said Elmira, abruptly changing the subject. “Can we see yours?”

“I don’t know how to get them out of the camera,” said Tugs.

“Heavens to Mergatroid,” said Eldora, laughing. “You mean that old Pepper gave you a Brownie but didn’t tell you how to get the photographs developed? Wasn’t there an instruction manual?”

Developed, thought Tugs. That’s the word for it. Developed.

“That would be just like him, now, wouldn’t it?” said Elmira. “Flinty Pepper. He could have at least given you a free round of developing. Nope. I thought it was unusually generous for Pepper to donate cameras for the raffle. He was just drumming up new customers, that’s what. Once a fella or a lady owns a camera, what do they need but film and developing? And then more film. More developing. And talking to Pepper, you’d think there’s no way to develop photographs but in his top-secret back room. The magic room, he calls it, like he’s some sort of wizard holding the magic spell. There’s nothing to it, really.”

“Are you going to show her, Sissy?” Eldora broke in.

“I don’t see why not,” said Elmira. “She did save our Leopold.”

“Show me what?” asked Tugs.

“Come to the back room, dear. Mind the step.”

“And if you hear a scritchety, scratchety, that’s just the mice Leopold has yet to catch. There’s a hole back here somewhere, but they’re mostly friendly.”

“Do you have the flashlight, Sissy?” asked Elmira.

“Of course, Sissy. Now, here, you follow Elmira and me. Shut the door behind you.”

They went through the kitchen and squeezed past the icebox to a small door.

“This used to be the extra pantry,” said Elmira. “We made it over.”

“Watch your head, now,” Eldora said. “We’ve got the window covered and there’s a clothesline hanging across.”

Elmira swept the flashlight beam around the small room, and in its path, Tugs saw a narrow table with tubs on top of it. Photographs were hanging from the clothesline strung wall to wall. Others were tacked onto the wall. Tugs was mesmerized.

Elmira shone the light on Tugs’s face. “She likes it!” said Elmira, giggling. “Just like if we’d had a girl of our own.”

“You know those aren’t undies hanging from the line, don’t you?” Eldora giggled.

Tugs nodded.

“It’s the pictures,” squealed Elmira, delighted with herself. “We have ourselves our very own darkroom.”

“Oh, and doesn’t it make Mr. Pepper mad!” tittered Eldora. “All that business, his best customers we were, whoosh out the door.”

Tugs was desperate to see the photographs hanging on the line. She reached out her hand for the flashlight. Elmira handed it to her. She walked along the row of photos, studying each one. The first was the apple tree in the backyard. Since the sisters were so small, it was taken from underneath the lowest branch and was a view up into the limbs. The second was a similar picture — so similar, in fact, that Tugs couldn’t tell the difference between them, save for a smudge down at the edge of one. The third was the same, only a little bit lighter. She went on down the row, puzzled at the repeated images.

“Aren’t they lovely?” asked Eldora.

“She’s speechless!” said Elmira. “Wouldn’t old Pepper be jealous?”

Tugs did not point out that Mr. Pepper appeared to be plenty of years younger than either of the sisters, or that as far as she could tell his business was running just fine, or that these pictures were all the same, just a view of some backyard branches.

“Nice,” was all she said. Clearly that was not high enough praise, because the sisters were disappointed in her reaction.

“Nice, she says!” sniffed Elmira.

“I think it’s time for my midday repast,” said Elmira.

“She means it’s time for you to go,” said Eldora to Tugs.

“I’m sorry if I . . .” Tugs started, but the sisters were already on their way out of the room, pulling Tugs with them.

They stood awkwardly in the living room. Tugs patted the sleeping Leopold’s head and then boldness overtook her.

“Would you develop my photographs?” The sisters paused, door open to excuse her. “I took one of the dashing gentleman,” she offered.

“Well, Sissy. She did rescue our Leopold.”

“Yes, Sissy. I suppose you’re right. And the gentleman is handsome.”

“Come back tomorrow,” said Elmira, and shooed Tugs out the door.

Tugs stood on the porch and remembered about Mary Louise and her plan to become a Mary, which made her remember her hair. She reached up and felt its shortness, already missing the pull of its former weight. She wished she could see the picture she’d taken of herself at the picnic.