The Emily Eyefinger Collection Read online

  The Emily Eyefinger Collection

  4 books in one

  Emily Eyefinger

  Emily Eyefinger, Secret Agent

  Emily Eyefinger and the Lost Treasure

  Emily Eyefinger and the Black Volcano

  Duncan Ball

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Emily Eyefinger

  Emily Eyefinger, Secret Agent

  Emily Eyefinger and the Lost Treasure

  Emily Eyefinger and the Black Volcano

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Emily Eyefinger

  Duncan Ball

  Contents—Emily Eyefinger

  Title Page

  1. Emily’s Arrival

  2. Emily’s Eyefinger

  3. Emily at Home

  4. Emily Gets a Pet

  5. Emily Goes to School

  6. Emily Ghost Finger

  7. Emily at the Zoo

  8. Emily’s Adventure at Sea

  9. Emily’s Mouse

  10. Emily Eyefinger, Crook Catcher

  1.

  Emily’s Arrival

  ‘Congratulations,’ the doctor said to Mrs Eyefinger, ‘you have just given birth to a baby girl. A rather special baby girl,’ he said, hiding the baby behind his back like a present. ‘What are you going to name her?’

  ‘If it were a boy we would call him Emile. But since it’s a girl, she will be Emily,’ Mrs Eyefinger said. She stretched her neck to see around the doctor. ‘What do you mean she’s special? She is all right, isn’t she?’

  ‘Perfectly all right. It’s just that little Emily’s been born … well … with something extra,’ the doctor said. Then he held Emily out in front of him. ‘Have a good look.’

  Mrs Eyefinger had a good look at her baby and then said, ‘I don’t see anything extra. I just see the usual baby parts. One head, two arms, two legs. Everything seems to be in perfect order.’

  ‘Almost everything,’ the doctor corrected her. ‘Count the eyes.’

  ‘The eyes?’ Mrs Eyefinger said. ‘She’s got two, one on either side of her nose. That’s the usual number, isn’t it?’

  ‘Count again,’ he said, smiling from ear to ear.

  Mr and Mrs Eyefinger looked again and saw Emily’s two big blue eyes looking back.

  ‘I’ll give you a hint,’ the doctor said. ‘Look at her hands.’

  ‘At her hands?’ Mr Eyefinger said, gently uncurling his daughter’s fingers.

  ‘You see? It’s on the tip of her finger,’ the doctor said, showing Mrs Eyefinger. ‘Just like her name, Emily Eyefinger.’

  ‘Goodness me,’ said Mr Eyefinger.

  He held Emily’s left hand and stared into the little eye on the end of his daughter’s finger. There was a little eyelid on the end and it blinked once and then blinked again.

  ‘Are many babies born like this?’ Mrs Eyefinger asked.

  ‘Never. Well, almost never,’ the doctor said very seriously. ‘I’ve been delivering babies for twenty years and this is the first time I’ve seen one.’

  ‘Why do you suppose it happened?’ Mrs Eyefinger asked.

  ‘I’m not sure, but I have an idea,’ the doctor said. ‘Have you ever noticed that people whose last name is Slim are often thin and people named Small are often little?’

  ‘Yes, and I suppose there are people whose name is Little who are quite small,’ Mrs Eyefinger agreed.

  ‘And people named Cook who grow up to be cooks,’ Mr Eyefinger said.

  ‘That’s different,’ the doctor said. ‘Cooks aren’t cooks when they’re born. They’re just babies and they don’t know how to cook ’

  ‘They’re good at eating, though,’ Mrs Eyefinger said.

  ‘If their name is Cook,’ Mr Eyefinger said, ‘they sometimes become cooks because they can’t think of what else to be.’

  Mr Eyefinger nodded his head, looking proud of his explanation.

  ‘Hmm,’ said the doctor. ‘I’ll have to think about that.’

  ‘I knew a Mrs Sillybonnet who wore the strangest hats,’ Mrs Eyefinger said.

  ‘Did you really?’ Mr Eyefinger asked, suddenly remembering a carpenter he’d known named Mr Hammer and a dentist named Dr Tooth.

  ‘Anyway, I guess life is full of surprises,’ the doctor said. ‘Your name is Eyefinger so your daughter was born with an eye on her finger. But don’t worry. I see a way out of this problem.’

  ‘What problem?’ asked Mr Eyefinger.

  ‘I can take the extra eye off,’ the doctor explained. ‘It’ll be no trouble and it won’t hurt little Emily a bit.’

  ‘Take it off?’ Mrs Eyefinger said. ‘No, let’s just leave it for now and see how things go. It could come in very handy,’ she added, chuckling at her little joke. ‘Very handy. Do you get it?’

  Mr Eyefinger and the doctor laughed a little, just to be polite.

  And that was what happened the day Emily Eyefinger was born.

  2.

  Emily’s Eyefinger

  Emily found that having an eye on the end of her finger could be a nuisance. You can imagine the trouble she had keeping soap out of it when she took a bath or even when she washed her hands.

  And when Emily played she kept getting dust and dirt in her eyefinger. When that happened she cried and cried and cried from all three eyes at the same time. Tears ran down each cheek and a tiny tear dripped off the end of her finger.

  ‘Poor Emily. What are we going to do?’ her father asked her mother. ‘She keeps getting things in her eye. I never thought that having an eye on the end of your finger would be such a problem.’

  ‘I don’t suppose we ever really thought about it at all,’ Mrs Eyefinger said.

  ‘I guess there are some things we don’t think about until they happen,’ said Mr Eyefinger. ‘Eyes on the ends of fingers is one of them.’

  ‘It’s a good thing that the eye is on her left hand and that she’s right-handed,’ Mrs Eyefinger said. ‘If it were on her right hand, she’d be getting things in it all the time.’

  ‘If it was on her right hand, she might have turned out to be left-handed,’ Mr Eyefinger said. ‘That’s what I think anyway.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ Mrs Eyefinger said. ‘Still, it does give her problems. Maybe we’d better have Emily’s eye taken off.’

  Mr Eyefinger sat up straight, the way people sometimes do when they get a bright idea.

  ‘Just a minute,’ he said. ‘I have a bright idea.’ With that he went to the box where he kept odds and ends. There he found a hard, round, plastic bubble from a broken compass. He took the bubble to his workbench and drilled a finger-sized hole in it.

  ‘There you go,’ he said, slipping it over Emily’s eyefinger. ‘This should keep the dirt out.’

  ‘That was a bright idea,’ Mrs Eyefinger said. ‘We can put some tape on it so it won’t fall off. Then Emily can play and even wash herself without hurting her eye.’

  Everything was a little blurry when Emily looked through the plastic bubble with her eyefinger. Now and then a little bit of soapy water or dirt did get into the bubble and into Emily’s eye. But most of the time it worked perfectly.

  When Grandmother Eyefinger came to visit, Emily held out her finger to show her the plastic bubble.

  ‘Dada,’ Emily said.

  ‘No, finger,’ said Grandmother Eyefinger. ‘Can you say, finger?’

  Emily shook her head and frowned.

  ‘Dada,’ she said again.

  ‘She means that her father made that bubble cover for her eye,’ Mrs Eyefinger explained.

  ‘Oh, Dada made that,’ her grandmother said. Emily smiled a big smile. ‘Wasn’t that clever o
f Dada?’

  Emily knew she was lucky to have a father who was full of bright ideas.

  When Emily learned to walk, her parents let her play outside. There was a big fence that went all around the yard to keep her from going into the street.

  One day Mrs Eyefinger came home from shopping. She parked in front of the house. As soon as she got out of the car she heard Emily’s voice saying, ‘Mummy. Mummy. I see Mummy.’

  Mrs Eyefinger stopped and looked at the fence but there was no sign of Emily.

  ‘I see Mummy. Mummy don’t see me,’ Emily said again.

  ‘Mummy doesn’t see me.’ Her mother corrected her. ‘Where are you? I can hear you but I can’t see you.’

  ‘Here, Mummy, here,’ Emily said and then she giggled.

  Mrs Eyefinger looked down and saw a little finger poking under the bottom of the fence. It was Emily’s eyefinger!

  ‘Where oh where can Emily be?’ Mrs Eyefinger said. ‘Where oh where can she be?’

  Mrs Eyefinger threw open the gate and snatched Emily up in her arms.

  ‘Gotcha!’ she said. ‘You little rascal! You were spying on me.’

  ‘Silly Mummy,’ said Emily and she laughed long and loud.

  It was the first time she had fooled her mother. And it was a lot of fun.

  One Sunday all of Emily’s relatives came to dinner. There were big Eyefingers and small Eyefingers and old Eyefingers and young Eyefingers. There were even some relatives who weren’t Eyefingers at all. Of course none of them had eyes on their fingers except Emily.

  Grandfather Eyefinger did some magic tricks. First he made a golf ball disappear. Then he made it come out of Emily’s ear. And then three golf balls came out of his mouth and he found another one in Emily’s pocket. She didn’t even know it was there until he found it. Emily loved his magic tricks. Grandfather was a very special man.

  Later, Emily’s cousin Sally came up behind her and put her hands over her face.

  ‘Guess who?’ said Sally.

  Emily just pointed her eyefinger over her shoulder to see who it was.

  ‘It’s Sally,’ she said.

  Sally laughed. They all wished they had eyes on their fingers.

  When they were sitting at the table eating carrot cake, Emily suddenly climbed down from her high chair. She went around the table, looking at everyone’s hands. Her grandfather’s fingers were hidden in big stiff fists. Emily had to uncurl them one by one to see their ends.

  ‘What are you doing, Emily?’ he asked in a wobbly voice. ‘The golf balls are all gone.’

  ‘She’s looking for your eyefinger,’ Mrs Eyefinger said with a wink. ‘She does it all the time now. She’s looking to see if anyone else has an eyefinger. She even does it to people when we go shopping.’

  Some of her cousins giggled and then everyone laughed. Emily let go of her grandfather’s hands and began to cry.

  ‘Oh, Emily,’ Grandfather Eyefinger said, hugging her. ‘Don’t cry. No one’s laughing at you.’

  ‘I don’t want my eyefinger,’ Emily said. ‘Take it away.’

  Then her cousin Wilbur said, ‘If you don’t want it, can I have it?’

  And her cousin Sally said, ‘No, I want it!’

  And her cousin Betsy said, ‘I want it too! I’ve always wanted an eyefinger.’

  Sally picked Emily up and put her over her shoulder. Then she ran to the other side of the dining table.

  ‘It’s mine!’ Sally yelled. ‘It’s mine! I get to have an eyefinger!’

  Jason and Betsy chased Sally and Emily around and around the table, yelling and screaming.

  ‘Stay away from us!’ Sally yelled.

  Emily’s stomach was beginning to hurt from all the jiggling. Sally threw her down on the lounge. They all three started pulling at her eyefinger (but not very hard).

  ‘It’s mine! It’s mine!’ Wilbur yelled. ‘Emily doesn’t want it so it’s mine.’

  ‘Look!’ Betsy said. They all stopped pulling. ‘It’s stuck on. How are we ever going to get it off? I think Emily is just going to have to keep it.’

  Emily was still crying but she smiled. They all wanted an eyefinger. But she was the only one in the world who could have one. She knew she was a very special person — just like Grandfather.

  3.

  Emily at Home

  Emily grew bigger and bigger and so did her eyefinger. Her father had to keep making the hole in the bubble bigger so it wouldn’t be too tight. Sometimes Emily hurt her eyefinger and wished she didn’t have it. But at other times it was very useful, like the time when Mrs Eyefinger lost her earring.

  ‘I’ve looked everywhere for it,’ her mother said. ‘But there are some places I can’t see, like under the piano and under the car seats.’

  Emily poked her eyefinger under the piano. There was nothing there but dust. Then she got into the car and put her eyefinger under the seats. She found two coins but no earring.

  ‘I know,’ Mrs Eyefinger said. ‘Let’s look down behind the stove, shall we? Things have a way of losing themselves behind stoves. I don’t know why but they do.’

  Emily pointed her eyefinger down behind the stove.

  ‘I spy with my little eye something you wear on your ear,’ she said.

  ‘You’re an angel,’ her mother said. Mrs Eyefinger put a piece of chewing gum on the end of a broom handle. ‘I’ll poke this down there and you tell me where the earring is.’

  Emily told her to move it a little this way and then a little that way.

  ‘You’re right over it now,’ Emily said.

  Her mother stabbed the broom handle down. Then she pulled it up. Sure enough, there was the earring stuck to the chewing gum.

  ‘Yucky-poo,’ Mrs Eyefinger said, pulling the earring out of the gum. ‘How will I ever get all this guck off it? It’s all your fault for having that eye on your finger.’

  Emily frowned. Then she grabbed the earring out of her mother’s hand and dangled it behind the stove.

  ‘Emily! What are you doing?’ Mrs Eyefinger asked.

  ‘I’m going to drop it and lose it again,’ Emily said.

  ‘Sweetheart, I was only kidding about your eyefinger!’ Mrs Eyefinger said.

  ‘So was I,’ Emily said and they both laughed. ‘How would you like some other lost things?’ Emily asked.

  ‘What things?’

  ‘A spoon, two forks, a potholder, a clothes peg, and a tennis ball.’

  ‘Down there? Behind the stove?’

  Emily nodded.

  ‘That’s what I mean about things losing themselves behind stoves. You’re a very useful little girl,’ Mrs Eyefinger said. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without your eyefinger. I promise never to make jokes about it again.’

  And she never did.

  When Mr and Mrs Eyefinger went to the movies, they often asked Carol Singer (who was a very good singer) to baby—sit. Carol lived down the street. She was in high school. Before she started baby—sitting, Mrs Eyefinger went over to Carol’s house to talk to her.

  ‘Emily isn’t exactly like other little girls,’ Mrs Eyefinger began.

  ‘No one is exactly the same,’ Carol said.

  ‘That’s true,’ said Mrs Eyefinger.

  ‘People are all different,’ Carol went on. ‘Sort of like snowflakes. We’re all different. We may look a bit the same sometimes but we’re not.’

  ‘Yes, Carol, I know. But Emily is really quite a different little snowflake.’

  ‘What do you mean, Mrs Eyefinger?’

  ‘There is something special about her that I think you should know.’

  ‘I’m sure there is,’ Carol said. She wondered what Mrs Eyefinger was trying to say.

  Mrs Eyefinger thought for a minute. Finally she held up her hands.

  ‘Look at these,’ she said.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘What do you see?’

  ‘Fingers?’ asked Carol.

  ‘And what is on the end of each of them?’

  Maybe Mrs
Eyefinger liked guessing games, Carol thought.

  ‘Oh, I know. Fingernails!’ said Carol.

  ‘Exactly,’ Mrs Eyefinger said. ‘I have a fingernail on each and every one of my fingers.’

  Carol looked at her own fingers. She had fingernails on all of hers too.

  ‘Oh, I get it,’ Carol said with a laugh. ‘You’re trying to tell me about the eye on the end of Emily’s finger, aren’t you, Mrs Eyefinger?’

  ‘So you know about it.’

  ‘Mum told me. She’s a doctor in the hospital. She knew about Emily’s finger the day she was born.’

  ‘And it doesn’t worry you?’ Mrs Eyefinger asked carefully.

  ‘Worry me? Heavens no. I think it’s great,’ Carol said. ‘I wish I had an eye on the end of my finger. It would be very useful for finding things. Have you ever noticed how things are always losing themselves behind stoves?’

  ‘I certainly have,’ said Mrs Eyefinger.

  When Carol Singer looked after Emily, she sang songs to her. (Sometimes she even sang carols.) She always read books to her, especially books about animals. Emily wanted to know everything there was to know about animals. She loved it when Carol came to baby-sit.

  One day Carol taught Emily how to play hide-and-seek.

  ‘Put your hands over your face,’ she told Emily, ‘and count to ten. I’ll go away and hide. Then you say, ‘Here I come, ready or not,’ and see if you can find me. Get it?’

  Emily looked puzzled.

  ‘Come on, Emily. It’s easy.’

  Emily put her hands over her face and began to count to ten. She watched with her eyefinger as Carol got down on her hands and knees and crawled behind the lounge. When she finished counting, Emily said, ‘Here I come, ready or not,’ just the way Carol had said. Then Emily crawled right behind the lounge and bumped straight into Carol’s bottom.