“That’s my meteor! That’s my meteor!” cried Sina, leaping up and down. “I saw it! I saw the blue light!”

“Did you now, dear?” said Mrs. Brookman. “Well, you must use my phone and call the Space Institute.”

“Yes, you must!” said another of the ladies. “It’s your duty.”

“It’s practically a patriotic duty,” said Miss Macy, who, because she lived alone, came to Brookman’s quite a bit for the company. “Do we know what the evil enemy nations have come up with to torment us? It could be a German or a Japanese meteor!”

Sina and Mrs. Brookman looked at Miss Macy with pity. It was a well-known fact that she was a bit wanting.

“Meteors have no nationality. They can’t be corralled, dear,” said Mrs. Brookman to her gently. “Meteors are, well, wild. They’re feral. Like wolves.”

“Oh, I see,” said Miss Macy. “Still, we’ve all been told to watch for enemy submarines, haven’t we? I suspect that extends to space. Objects from space. Enemy objects from space.”

“Call, call,” urged the ladies, ignoring Miss Macy.

So with great self-importance and a certain triumph in having seen both something unusual and something Space Institute–worthy, and more than a little pleased to be vindicated, Sina stepped up to the phone while we all fell silent. She picked up the receiver and dialed.

“Hello?” she said. “Yes, well, I saw the blue light. Yes, the, uh, meteor. Yes, I did, I saw the blue meteor they mentioned on the radio. Mrs. Whitekraft. In Sooke. The East Sooke Farm. Yes, oh, you would? Why? All right, yes, I guess that would be fine. Say two o’clock? Right you are. Very good. You’re welcome.”

She hung up and turned to us beaming. “They want to interview me!” she said proudly.

“Well, I never,” said one of the ladies. “You’ll probably be part of research.”

“You’ll probably be part of history!” said Miss Macy, who always took things one step too far.

“At least you’ll know you’ve done your duty,” said Mrs. Brookman.

“Why don’t I ever get to see any meteors?” asked Miss Macy.

“How could it be a meteor when it just hung there outside your window?” asked Wilfred. But no one was paying him any attention. Nobody ever paid attention to children when there were grown-ups in the room. It was one of the wonderful things about being a child. It was like being invisible. I knew I would rue the day when I was grown up and accountable and taken seriously.

“I must bustle home,” said Sina, who was already making bustly movements, so excited was she. “The parlor needs dusting and I should make some tea cookies or something in case the man from the Space Institute expects it. Oh, drat. I don’t know how to make cookies. Mrs. Brookman, I almost forgot that I wanted to ask if that niece of yours is still about.”

Mrs. Brookman set her lips and nodded grimly.

“I wonder if I might borrow her for as long as we are hosting the Madden children? I need a cook. I am prepared to pay. Does she cook, your niece?”