Sally Dill kept all her reasons for being unhappy on 3 x 5 cards in a little file box. She had them arranged in alphabetical order beginning with, “Ants usually will mess up picnics” and ending with “Xylophones sound very tinny”. By having them on 3 x 5 cards you could easily add new items to her “unhappiness list” (as she called it) whenever they came to her attention. She was careful never to let a single one escape. She had collected 47 of them.  Late in the afternoon of her eight birthday, Sally was sitting in the tree house in her back yard staring down at some neighborhood kids who were planning kick the can. “When you are 'it' in kick the can,” she wrote on her fresh 3 x 5 card, “somebody always kicks it again before you can catch everybody.” She filed this under “K.” for “Kick the can” and thought about going down to explain this to Tommy, who was “it” and who (being only seven years old) probably didn't understand too well about how kick the can was likely to go. That would probably stop the game, she thought with some sense of satisfaction. However she had another matter on her mind that needed thinking about.

Her parents had given her birthday party during the lunch hour. There'd been delicious ice cream and cake and presents from everyone. Or four best friends had been invited. May brought her beautiful book about fairytales. Henry gave her a wool scarf. Juanita gave her a box of candy, and Tony's present was a pretty little vase which was for holding a single flower. Her parents gave her a record player, and her little sister Susan gave her a change purse. There was already a 3 x 5 card for ice cream and cake. Just remind yourself, Sally thumb through her cards until she came to “I.” Pulling out “Ice cream”, she read:

 Ice Cream and Cake:

They will rot your teeth every time.

But there was no card about presents. Could presents be trusted? After thinking about the matter, Sally took out another card and wrote carefully upon it:

They will get brocken

and that will make you sad.

Then after thinking the matter over a bit longer she turn the card over and added to it:

 Also they make you feel

that you owe people things.

This made 49 reasons for being unhappy. “So presents is one of the worst reasons of all, she thought. Sally felt like she had just escaped from a close call.

Just then her mother called to her “Sally, are you up in the tree house again? Come on down. It's time for supper.”

“Coming, mother,” she yelled back. Carefully, and she filed the new card in its proper place in the “P's” and closed her file box. Then she hid the box away in a little niche between the roof of the treehouse and the tree trunk. She climbed down the ladder and started for her house. As she went by Tommy, who was still it, said she said, “you may as well quit, Tommy, you'll never get them all before someone kicks the can.” Even if they didn't listen to her, Sally felt she had a responsibility to let the kids know things.

While they were eating dessert, Sally's mother asked, “did you enjoy your birthday, Sally?”

“Oh, yes,” Sally answered politely.

Ms. Dill noticed that she didn't seem very excited. Sometimes she felt she would never make Sally happy. Sally's father was reading the evening paper at the table.

“George Morge won the election for mayor,” he commented. “He will do a horrible job. Now our problems are really beginning.”

“I wish it were my birthday,” said her sister Susan “I have to wait four more months.”

I wish, the children's mother thought, that I could make Sally happier.

Sally pushed her dessert, have finished, away from her.

Shortly after supper, the doorbell rang. Sally was doing her homework at the dining room table. “I'll get it,” she said, running to the door. When she opened the door and looked out, she could see no one. It was just getting dark and she expected to see one of the neighborhood kids hiding in the shadows. Then she saw that just beside the door, on the floor of the porch, was a large rectangler shaped package wrapped up with a big bow on it. “It's a present,” she yelled. “It must be another birthday present for me.” She was carried away by excitement and in spite of herself. “Come help me bring it in.”

Her mother came out and exclaimed with surprise, “who in the world could that be from?”

Together, Sally and her mother tugged the package into the house. It was quite heavy. When they set it down on the living room rug, Sally noticed that there was a little envelope neatly taped to one corner. She tore this off the package and ripped it open. Inside was a little card with flowers on it. The message, neatly written on the inside of the card, said “A birthday present to make you happy. From your friend, Ms. Sibley.”

Ms. Sibley was a very old woman who lived down the street. Sally went shopping at the grocery store for her twice a week and ran other errands. Ms. Sibley would give her a quarter each time she went somewhere for her. But Sally would have done it for nothing. She considered Ms. Sibley to be her best friend. She was the only one Sally had ever told about her unhappiness list.

Sally could hear something inside the package. It sounded like chewing. Sally knew she had to be very careful of any present that was supposed to make her happy. But she was overcome by curiosity. With undisguised enthusiasm, she began tearing at the ribbons and the paper around the package. Susan and her mother crowded close to see what the strange present might be beneath the paper was a long wooden box. Now that was not muffled by the paper, the chewing sound was much more distinct.

“Father,” yelled Sally. “Please get a hammer and help us. It's a wooden box.”

“All right,” agreed Mr. Dill putting down his newspaper. In a couple of minutes, he returned with the hammer. Everybody hovered close by while the father pried the lid loose. Very shortly he pulled it out.

In the box was an enormous, puffy, green creature almost as big as Sally.

“It's beautiful,” squealed Sally. It was love at first sight.

“Where in the world did she get that?” Asked Ms. Dill.

“What is it?” Added her husband.

“It's a caterpillar,” said Susan.

“It can't be,” said Mr. Dill. “They don't grow that big.”

“This one did, said Sally. “Isn't it just beautiful?”

“It's horrid,” said her mother, turning pale.

Beautiful or not it was indeed a caterpillar. Indifferent to the commotion it created in the people gathered around the box, the caterpillar continued chewing on a slightly tattered dress which apparently, had been included for food. Also in the box there was an old-fashioned men's dress shirts, two pairs of boxer shorts, an old assortment of socks, and a pair of ladies slacks.

“It eats rags,” said Sally. “It's the best present I ever got in my life.” Ms. Dill lost control of her self in a caterpillar began crawling out of the box.

“Oh, oh, help!” She screamed. “It's attacking.”

Slowly, the caterpillar pulled itself over the edge of the box and lowered its quivering, squishy body onto the road.

“Get back, everybody, get back,” screamed Ms. Dill. “It's probably poisonous. Henry, where are you? Henry Dill!!” Her husband was nowhere to be seen

But the caterpillar did not attack. At least it did not attack a person. It did, however, attack the wall-to-wall carpeting chewing a path about 6 inches wide as it slowly proceeded across the living room. This was almost as upsetting to Ms. Dill as if it had attacked one of her children, and she began screaming again.

“My carpet, look what it's doing to my carpet. Does it know how much that cost?”

If it did, it didn't care, for it chewed a path clear across the room to Mr. Dill's easy chair. There it began eating the newspaper which Mr. Dill had been reading.

“Henry,” screamed Ms. Dill. “Come here and kill this horrid creature.”

“No, Mom,” protested Sally. “You can't kill it. It's a present. Is my best present! I get to keep it because it's a present.”

“Of course you can't keep it” answered her mother. She was trying to speak more calmly but still sounded frantic in spite of herself. I know how you feel, dear. We all lose pets that are dear to us sometimes. But we'll have it put to sleep painlessly by the Humane Society.”

At this point Mr. Dill returned to the room carrying the “C” volume of the world book Encyclopedia. The caterpillar had finished the newspaper and gone over to the side of the room where it was beginning on the living room drapes.

“It's just as I thought,” he said Mr. Dill. “It can't be a caterpillar. The biggest ones are only a few inches long. There is no such thing as a caterpillar that's almost 4 feet long.”

“But it is a caterpillar said Sally,” “you can see that.”

“Then it doesn't exist at all. We are all hallucinating. Your mother has gotten us all upset again.”

“What's hallucinating?” Asked Susan.

“Hallucinating is when we imagine we see something it's not really there,” explained Mr. Dill.

If we are hallucinating,” asked Sally who ate your newspaper?”

Mr. dill looked at her with a patient smile on his face. “It will be best,” he said, if we just sit down and calmly go back to our reading and homework. All this will simply go away.”

“It sure can eat,” observed Susan admiringly. The caterpillar had finished eating one of the curtains and was starting in on the second one.

Sally had placed Ms. Sibley's card face down on the coffee table after reading it in her hurry to open her present she had not noticed that something was written on the back. Eager to learn more about her new pet she picked the card up and read the message, which was written in a small, neat handwriting.

This is Andrew, your new pet caterpillar. He is somewhat large and eats anything cloth, so it would be best if you waited until you were outside before opening the box. His favorite food is anything silk. Sometimes he likes just a bit of newspaper as well. I am sure you will become very good friends.

Ms. Dill was sitting on the couch with her head in her hands, weeping hopelessly. Mr. Dill was reading about cantaloupes in the world book, and waiting for things to settle down. Susan was watching the caterpillar finish off the rest of the drapes.

Suddenly, Sally had an idea. “He likes silk, does he.” She ran up the stairs to the bedroom she shared with her sister. She tore open the dresser drawer in which Susan kept her pajamas and grabbed a small frilly silk nightgown. By the time she arrived back downstairs, the caterpillar had eaten away a good deal of the upholstery on one of the easy chairs in the room.

“Andrew,” she hollered “I have something silk for you.”

Andrew looked up. He seemed to understand.

“I'll get him out of the house, mother,” said Sally. “You won't have to send him away.” Ms. Dill didn't respond, but Andrew was staring at the nightgown Sally was waving in front of him with a clear interest.

“My nightgown,” screamed Susan. “Mama, Sally is going to feed the caterpillar my favorite nightgown.”

“It can't be helped,” said her mother. “I know how you feel, dear, but it can't be helped.”

“It can't be helped,” repeated Sally feeling sincerely sorry for her sister. “Come, Andrew.” She waved the nightgown in front of the caterpillar. “Come with me. Come with your dear friend.”

As a caterpillar began to follow her Sally walked backward through the house toward the kitchen, holding the nightgown just out of his reach.

“It's silk, Andrew. Your favorite food. Come with me.” Then she called to her sister open the back door, “Susan, quick. We'll get him out.”

Susan was still having a lot of feelings about her nightgown, but she did as she was asked. Sally led the caterpillar out through the door and across the yard. Then, still dangling the nightgown just before his nose is nose, she climbed the ladder to her treehouse. When she got Andrew into the treehouse, she patted him on the head and gave him the rest of the nightgown.

“Here's your dessert,” she said. “You stay right here, and I'll go get you some more food.”

When she got to the bottom of this ladder, she found her sister with tears in her eyes. They both listened in the dark to the chewing sounds coming from the treehouse.

“I'm sorry, Susan” Sally said. She gave her sister a hug. “It was the only way. I'll try to make it up to you.”

Back in the house, Ms. Dill had stopped crying.

“Is he gone?” She asked.

“He's in my treehouse,” said Sally.

“You can keep him there, seeing as he is a present,” said her mother. “But don't ever let him back into this house again.”

Mr. dill looked up from his World Book now that the screaming and crying had stopped. He saw there was no longer the vision of a huge, strange, green caterpillar in the house.

“You see,” he said wisely, “I told you that if we would all just calm down it would go away.”.

In fact, of course, the caterpillar had only gone as far as Sally's treehouse. But from that time on, the giant caterpillar was treated by Mr. Dill as though it were just a figment of Sally's over-active imagination. “That girl lives in a world of dreams,” he would say. How the rug, the drapes, and the chair upholstery got chewed up was simply not discussed.

Sally got permission from her mother to take rags out of the “rag pile” that they kept in the basement out to Andrew. On that first evening she told Andrew that if he would stay in the treehouse, she would bring him rags every day, with a few newspapers for variety. “Also,” she added “if you are very good I will get you something silk for dessert whenever I can.” Andrew seemed to understand her. At any rate he stayed in the treehouse.

The day after her birthday, Sally went down the street to talk with Ms. Sibley. It was a bright day, early in the fall. The leaves are beginning to change and the sun was still warm. Ms. Sibley was sitting in her rocking chair on her porch. She was very old and frail, and the front porch was as far as she ever went.

“Thank you, thank you for the present,” Sally exclaimed as she ran up the stairs. “It's beautiful. I just love it.”

“You're most welcome,” Ms. Sibley assured her.

“How did you get it there? Where did it come from?”

“I live very close to where such caterpillars come from,” answered Ms. Sibley. “As to how I got it onto your porch, that's my secret. An old lady needs a secret or two just as a child does. How was it received by your family?”

“Not too well,” admitted Sally. “But I think we have it all worked out now.” She related to Ms. Sibley all the events that had happened the night before.

“That's too bad about sat Susan's nightgown,” commented Ms. Sibley when Sally had finished. “It would be nice if you could make it up to her just as you promised.”

“Maybe I could earn some money running errands,” Sally commented.

“Now that you do mention it, I do have some things I need at the store this morning if you have the time.”

“Of course I do,” said Sally.

Ms. Sibley rummaged through her pocketbook and found a grocery list and a small change purse with some money in it. “By the way,” she added as she handed these to Sally, “how is your unhappiness is coming along?”

“Oh, that, on” said Sally. “That's just a dumb idea I had. I'm going to throw that away when I get back home.”

“Is that right?” Said Ms. Sibley. “Well, now, don't forget to give the coupons to the grocery clerk.”

Sally was already dancing down the porch stairs as Ms. Sibley said “I'll see you soon.” Then she skipped on down the sidewalk with a light step.

No sooner had Sally disappeared around the corner and then Ms. Sibley could see M Ms. Dill walking in her direction she looked pale and haggard as though she'd not slept much the previous night.

“Good morning, Ms. Sibley,” she said as she slowly walked up the porch steps.

“Good morning, Ms. Dill. It's so nice of you to come by for a visit,” responded Ms. Sibley. “To Sally have a nice birthday yesterday?”

“As a matter of fact, that's just what I wanted to talk with you about,” said Ms. Dill. “Your present to Sally was most... um... most... well... most interesting. I just wondered how you happened to pick it.”

“Don't you remember that we talked about what I should get her?” Asked Ms. Sibley.

“I do remember we talked, but I don't recall I suggested buying her a giant green worm.”

“Caterpillar,” corrected Ms. Sibley.

“Caterpillar, then,” said Ms. Dill. “Did we decide that you would buy her a giant caterpillar?”

“I think you said it would be good for her to have a pet of some sort,” said Ms. Sibley. “You thought it would be nice for her to have something to take care of and love.”

“Yes, I did say that,” admitted Ms. Dill. “But I meant a puppy or a little kitten. At most, perhaps, a hamster. Not a caterpillar that is as big as she is.”

“Does she not love the caterpillar, then?” Asked Ms. Sibley.

“0h, she loves it. I've never seen her so excited about anything. But couldn't something more ordinary have done just as well?”

“Sally is not an ordinary girl,” said Ms. Sibley I felt she needed something unusual.”

“I have to admit it,” said Ms. Dill, staring in a bleary-eyed manner off into space. “I've never seen her so full of enthusiasm and energy. After seeing her mope around all the time for so long, that is a relief.”

“It's as we said,” affirmed Ms. Sibley., “a girl need something to love.”

“But a giant green caterpillar?” Questioned Ms. Dill.

“Is it working?” Asked Ms. Sibley.

“It's working,” admitted Ms. Dill. “Well, I left the cake in the oven. I suppose I need to be getting back.” She turned to leave.

“It's nice of you to drop by. It cheers up an old woman to have visitors,” said Ms. Sibley.

Ms. Dill stopped when she was about halfway down the stairs and turned back to Ms. Sibley. “By the way,” she asked “is it poisonous?”

“Certainly not,” Ms. Sibley assured her. That afternoon Sally climbed up into her treehouse with a load of rags and a few newspapers for Andrew. “In a real silk shirt, too,” Sally said, handing him a very old shirt her mother had planned to send a goodwill. As Andrew chewed contentedly on the shirt, Sally pulled out her file box and thumbed through some the cards. She stopped a moment at the F's. There she had two cards:

Flap jacks:

They make you feel

all bloated if you eat

as many as you want



They sometimes turn

against you if you don't

give them what they want.



She had used the word “flapjack” rather than “pancake” because she already had too many P's and wanted to fill out the F section of the file box.

She had planned to buy a book with blank pages and to write her list in it as soon as she completed a list of 50 items. 49 reasons for being unhappy was very close, and she felt a little disappointed at the thought of giving up her projects so close to finishing it.

“But it really is a dumb idea, just as I told Ms. Sibley,” She said to herself. She pulled the 49 cards of her unhappiness list out of the file box and carried them down the ladder and into the house where she threw them away in the kitchen waste basket. She was careful to bury them under the cantaloupe rinds left over from breakfast so that nobody would notice them.

The next three weeks were some of the happiness happiest, and the busiest, of Sally's life. Every day she would go out collecting rags and newspapers for Andrew. She wanted them, she would explain, “for a worthy cause.” She did not feel that everybody needed to know what the “worthy cause” was a giant green caterpillar.

She also kept up with her homework, did her chores around the house, and ran errands for Ms. Sibley. Whatever time she had left over sheet was spent with Andrew.

Never did a child love a pet more. And Sally's eyes, Andrew had all the shining virtues of Lassie, Black beauty, and Rin tin tin all rolled up into one. She taught her caterpillar to sit up, to roll over, and to shake hands. She was certain that if she ever happened to get into trouble, Andrew would rush to her rescue as quickly as any of the most famous pet pets in history. Often, she would ask her mother if she could sleep out in the tree house with Andrew. At times, her mother consented. It was bliss to sit in the moon bright moonlight in the doorway of her treehouse, staring up at the starry sky while holding her pet caterpillar in her arms, or scratching him behind his antennae. And how snug it was to be curled up cozily beside him while they listened together to the nightly chorus of crickets! “I don't know what I would do if I ever lost you,” she said to Andrew one night.

The day after the first frost of the fall, Andrew stopped eating. When she couldn't even get him interested in a silk slip, Sally concluded that something must be wrong. The next day when she went to see him, she saw him hanging from the ceiling, busily weaving some silk around himself. She knew, then, what was happening. He was leaving himself a cocoon. “Of course. That's what caterpillars do,” She said to herself. Every free moment during the next two days, Sally went up into her treehouse to watch him leave the cocoon. By the end of the second day she could not see Andrew at all, but his steady scraping noise and a constant wiggling lead her know he was still at work. Finally, by the end of the third day, all the sounds and motions stopped. Although she knew he was still in their and felt that he was probably all right, it still made her a little sad to look at that silent cocoon that was a bit bigger than herself. She missed scratching him behind the antenna and teaching him tricks.

That fall and winter everyone agreed that Sally was a changed person. One morning about a week after Andrew finished his cocoon, Susan found a beautiful frilly new nightgown laid out neatly on top of her dresser. It was, of course, from Sally to replace the one she had fed to Andrew on the night he arrived. “I saved money from doing errands from her Ms. Sibley,” Sally explained proudly. Susan loved it.

Sally was changed in many ways. She worked hard, and she played hard. Always before she had held back from games with other children. Now, when she threw herself into sledding or snowball fights, it was with all her energy. Her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes sparkled with delight. Every day after school the first thing she did was to climb up into the treehouse to have a look at the giant cocoon hanging there from the ceiling. Only once she was assured that it was still there and all right did she do her homework and go out to play with the other children in the neighborhood.

The curtains and the carpeting that Andrew had eaten were replaced by ones which Ms. Dill liked much better. The chair was nicely reupholstered, and everyone felt their living room was better than ever. It was a very fine winter for the whole dill family.

One morning early in the spring, Sally noticed something different when she went up to check on the cocoon. She could hear chewing noise, not unlike the sound she heard from the package today Andrew arrived all wrapped up as a birthday present when Sally returned after school she hurried up to the treehouse. Not only did she hear chewing noises from the cocoon but she could see a lot of wiggling motions especially from one end. With growing excitement Sally realized that Andrew was awake and stirring within. That night Sally lay awake a long time in her bed, thinking about Andrew and wondering what he would look like when he came out.

The next morning was Saturday, and Sally did not have to go to school. She was up with the first rays of sunlight. Quickly, she dressed and rushed out to the backyard. There, hanging from the tree trunk just above the treehouse, was Andrew. But how changed he was! Although his size was about the same as before, the shape was that of a giant butterfly with small, crumpled wings. At first, Sally thought the wings were damaged, and then she realized that they were fine, but they had simply not yet expanded.

Sally sat in the grass and watched Andrew slowly pump fluid from his body into his wings with slow, rhythmic motions. So slowly that you could hardly tell anything was happening unless you watched very carefully for a time, the wings grew larger.

At breakfast, Sally told her family what was happening. “So you are again having thoughts about this caterpillar of yours being real,” said her father.

“But it is real. Come out and see it,” pleaded Sally.

“Come out and see it, indeed,” said her father. “These fantasies of yours are getting out of hand, and I don't wish to encourage you in them.”

“Just don't let him in the house,” said Ms. Dill. Heaven knows what a giant butterfly would do.”

Susan, however did want to see him. After a quick breakfast, gulped down in very large mouthfuls, the two sisters rushed out to see Andrew. His wings were a little larger, but that was the only change. Both girls watched in silence, totally enthralled by the glowing growing splendor of Andrew's wings. As the morning shadows grew shorter, more neighborhood children joined him. For some reason all seem to understand it was not a time for talking and playing. Each boy or girl, as he arrived, sat down silently and simply watched.

By 11 o'clock Andrew's wings were a full 6 feet across. Slowly, he began to exercise them. It was only as Sally watched Andrew's slow wing motions that a startling possibility occurred to her. Andrew might fly away. She wondered if she should do something to prevent it but felt that, no matter how much she might fear his leaving, it would be wrong to interfere. After exercising a while longer Andrew stopped. For about 10 minutes he was still, resting. Then, without warning, he flew from his place and began circling the tree in a spiral that lifted him skyward. For a while he fluttered in an irregular pattern just above treetop height. Then he swooped down toward the yard and passed so close to Sally that the edge of his wing lightly brushed her outstretched hand. Somehow she knew that this was goodbye. Tears came to her eyes as she saw him fluttering skyward again. This time he did not stop at the tops of the trees but slowly continued up into the sky until he was out of sight. “Andrew,” she called after him. “Andrew! Goodbye Andrew!”

When Andrew could no longer be seen, the children, one by one, rose up and left until Sally was alone. She finally got up and climbed into the treehouse. There she stared at the empty cocoon.

Although she had thrown away her unhappiness list, the file box with a number of blank 3 x 5 cards still remained in its place. Sally pulled the box down and took out a card. On it she wrote:


They turn into butterflies and

butterflies alway fly away

This would be the beginning of a new list.

That afternoon Sally went by to see Ms. Sibley. The old woman sat on her porch wrapped in a blue shawl to protect herself from the bit of chill that still lingered in the spring air.

“Good afternoon, Sally,” she said. “How are you doing today?”

“Andrew flew away this morning,” Sally said.

“Really? Yes, it would be about the time for that,” observed Ms. Sibley. “Was he pretty?”

“Very,” said Sally. “Will he come back?”

Ms. Sibley didn't answer. For a while they both sat in silence, staring at the butterflies feeding in the flowering bushes in front of the porch.

“I don't suppose he will,” said Sally, finally, answering her own question.

“Did others see him, to?” Asked Ms. Sibley.

“A lot of kids did,” answered Sally.

“That probably made them pretty happy,” Ms. Sibley said.

“I suppose so.” Sally held up the 3 x 5 card which told about caterpillars. “I started a new list.”

“An unhappiness list?” Asked Ms. Sibley.


“Can I see your card?”

“Okay.” Sally handed her the card.

Ms. Sibley took a long time reading the card. “That's too bad,” she said finally “I had hoped that Andrew might teach you to be happy. It's as I told your mother, a girl needs something to love.”

“But Andrew is gone now,” said Sally.

“There's always someone around that needs a bit of love and care,” said Ms. Sibley. “Even silly old women need a bit of loving and caring for.” Ms. Sibley handed her back the 3 x 5 card.

Sally stared at Ms. Sibley. She'd never fully noticed before how wise and kind she looked – or how old. And somehow she had never before realized how much she loved her.

“And people your own size and age, to, and even parents need a little of those things also just as Andrew did,” continued Ms. Sibley.

Sally looked down at her feet. “Do you have any errand you need run today?” She asked.

“As a matter fact I just happened to,” admitted Ms. Sibley, pulling a list out of her pocket book.

Sally looked over Ms. Sibley's grocery list, and then at her own 3 x 5 card.

“I don't think I will start another unhappiness list after all,” said Sally. “Andrew probably wouldn't like it.”

Ms. Sibley nodded in agreement. “Probably not,” she said.

Sally put the change purse Ms. Sibley had given her in her pocket.

“Would it be ok if it was late this afternoon before I get back to you with these things?” asked Sally. “I think I might play little kick the can with some of the other kids in the neighborhood this afternoon.”

“I think that would be fine,” said Ms. Sibley.

Sally handed her the 3 x 5 card on which she had begun her new unhappiness list. “I guess I don't need this,” she said.

“I'll take care of it,” said Ms. Sibley.

“I'd better be getting on now,” said Sally, and she was halfway down the stairs by the time she said, “goodbye.”

“Goodbye” Ms. Sibley called after her. “I'll see you later this afternoon.”

As she watched Sally running down the street, Ms. Sibley tore the 3 x 5 card into little pieces and let them fall to the porch floor where the spring breeze blew them all away.

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