Page 72 - The Book Thief

perplexed expression on her papas face that evening as he played.

PAPAS FACE
It traveled and wondered,

but it disclosed no answers.
Not yet.

There had been a change in him. A slight shift.

She saw it but didnt realize until later, when all the stories came together. She
didnt see him watching as he played, having no idea that Hans Hubermanns
accordion was a story. In the times ahead, that story would arrive at 33 Himmel
Street in the early hours of morning, wearing ruffled shoulders and a shivering
jacket. It would carry a suitcase, a book, and two questions. A story. Story after
story. Story within story.

For now, there was only the one as far as Liesel was concerned, and she was
enjoying it.

She settled into the long arms of grass, lying back.

She closed her eyes and her ears held the notes.

There were, of course, some problems as well. A few times, Papa nearly yelled
at her. Come on, Liesel, hed say. You know this word; you know it! Just when
progress seemed to be flowing well, somehow things would become lodged.

When the weather was good, theyd go to the Amper in the afternoon. In bad
weather, it was the basement. This was mainly on account of Mama. At first,
they tried in the kitchen, but there was no way.

Rosa, Hans said to her at one point. Quietly, his words cut through one of her
sentences. Could you do me a favor?

She looked up from the stove. What?