The next morning the Alden children caught the first bus to Putnam. Thirty minutes later, they climbed off in Putnam’s bus station.
Henry had brought a map. After consulting it, he said, “Oak Tree Circle isn’t too far from here. We can walk.”
It had rained the night before, but the day was freshly washed and pleasant. As the children walked away from the center of town, the houses became farther apart, with stretches of fields and woods in between.
“Here it is,” said Jessie, pointing to a green street sign.
Violet felt a tingle of excitement. “I can’t believe we’re having lunch with a real cartoonist!”
The kids used a stepping-stone path to Mr. Hoyt’s house. The house had a red roof and double front doors with iron hinges.
Benny stared. “What kind of a house is that? It looks more like a barn to me.”
“Maybe it was a barn that Mr. Hoyt turned into a house,” said Henry. “Some people do that.”
The kids approached the front door as a big man rounded the corner.
“You must be the Aldens,” he said in a hearty voice. “I’m Sid Hoyt. You may call me Sid. Did you have any trouble finding the place?”
“Not a bit,” said Henry. “I’m Henry, and this is Jessie, Violet, and that’s Benny. He’s your biggest fan.”
Sid laughed as he opened the door.
“Please, come in,” he said, opening the door wide.
As Jessie entered the foyer, she studied their host.
Sid Hoyt had thinning gray hair and blue eyes. Although he was tall and broad-shouldered, his movements were gentle. He reminded Jessie of a big teddy bear.
She looked around. The bottom floor was one huge room that contained a sitting area with a granite fireplace, kitchen, dining area, and the artist’s studio. A wrought-iron spiral staircase led to a sleeping loft. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a backyard with a well-kept garden and several large trees. Skylights brightened the workspace, which was on the far side of the living area.
A plump, gray-haired woman stepped forward to greet them. “You must be the Aldens,” she said. “I’m Nancy, Sid’s wife.”
“I like your house,” said Benny. “It’s kind of like the boxcar we used to live in.”
Sid raised his thick eyebrows. “You once lived in a boxcar? I’d like to hear that story over lunch. First, meet Batman and Robin.”
Two sleepy cats uncurled themselves from a leather reclining chair. The large black cat yawned, while the smaller gray tabby blinked yellow eyes.
“You named your cats after superheroes!” said Benny delighted.
“The black one is Batman,” said Sid. “The tabby is his sidekick, Robin.”
Benny bent to scratch Batman under his chin. “Can we get a cat?”
“We already have a dog,” Jessie reminded him. “Watch might be jealous if we got a cat.”
“Let me show you around,” Sid offered.
“You have a lot of windows,” Violet observed.
“Artists need lots of light,” said Nancy. “And I like the way I can see my garden and the trees.”
“It feels like the woods are inside,” Violet said appreciatively.
They walked over to the studio area.
“This is where I work,” Sid told them. “Sometimes the rest of the house might get messy, but I always keep my studio tidy.”
An enormous slanted drawing table stood by the window, with hooded metal lamps clamped to the edge. Racks of bottled inks hung on one wall. Stoneware jugs held brushes, pens, and pencils.
“Wow! I never knew an artist would need so many cabinets,” said Benny.
Sid pulled open a drawer of a metal filing cabinet. Inside were folders of pictures cut from magazines, photographs, and drawings.
“These are my picture files,” he explained. “Artists need to look at objects when they draw them. Most of us aren’t able to draw just from our imaginations. If I am drawing a car, for instance, it helps to refer to a picture of a car to make sure I have the details right.”
“What is this?” Jessie pointed to a large white box with a glass cover.
“That’s a light table.” Sid turned a switch and the frosted glass top glowed. “It’s used for tracing.” He put a drawing on the glass and laid a sheet of blank paper on top. “See how the drawing shows through? Now you can trace it.”
Henry noticed all the crayon pictures and clay models of Captain Fantastic on the file cabinets.
“Who did these?” he asked.
“Fans,” said Sid. “Kids send me drawings and comics they have made. Sometimes they build models of Captain Fantastic. Some are quite good.”
Benny stood on tiptoe to get a better view of some penciled drawings taped to a drawing board.
“A new Captain Fantastic story!” he said, awestruck.
“Yes, that’s the very latest issue,” said Sid, smiling. “I’m putting the finishing touches on the black and white drawings so I can deliver it to my publisher tomorrow. There, other people will ink the drawings, add color, and letter in the words I’ve written.”
“We just got a sneak peek,” said Henry. “Before anyone else!”
Sid grinned. “You are definitely Captain Fantastic fans. Since you’ve come all the way from Greenfield, you must be hungry.”
“I know you’ll enjoy Sid’s excellent cooking,” said Nancy. “Unfortunately, I have an appointment in town, so I can’t stay to eat with you. But it’s always a pleasure to meet Sid’s fans.” She said good-bye to each of them, kissed her husband on the cheek, and hurried out the door.
The table was already set with cheery red, white, and blue place mats, blue stoneware dishes, and a vase of zinnias. Red glasses threw ruby rays of sunlight.
The children sat down as Sid came in with a tray holding a large bowl of chicken salad, warm blueberry muffins, and a platter of carrot sticks with yogurt dip.
Benny giggled as Batman stood on his hind legs and reached a black furry paw toward his plate.
“You have dreadful manners,” the artist scolded the big cat. He put the cats outdoors, then returned to the table.
“Now tell me about your boxcar,” Sid said.
Henry related the story of how they had found the abandoned boxcar in the woods and lived in it until their grandfather found them.
“Grandfather had our boxcar moved to his house,” Henry concluded. “We use it as a clubhouse now.”
“We keep our Captain Fantastic collection there,” Violet added. “We have every single issue now. Even number nine. It took us a long time to find that one.”
“We brought it with us,” Jessie said. “If it’s not too much trouble, we’d really like you to autograph it.”
While the children were talking, Sid had been doodling his superhero character on paper napkins.
“A souvenir,” he said, passing one to each of them. “And it will be a pleasure to sign your comic.”
“I’ll go get it.” Benny ran into the living room where Jessie had left her backpack and raced back to the table with the comic in its plastic bag.
Sid carefully removed the comic from the bag. Then he leafed through the issue.
He put the comic on the table and looked at them with a frown.
“I can’t sign this,” he said flatly. |