CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
HOW HENRY’S TRIP ENDED
Suddenly Henry was doused with a shower of pickle
juice.
He jumped up. “I wonder where that came from,”
he said.
“Psst!” said a voice above him. “It’s me, Priscilla! I
poured it down. Watch out Henry, I’m lowering a tea
bag. Grab on to it and I’ll pull you up.”
“Thanks,” said Henry hoarsely. He grabbed tight,
but fell off, with a bump. “Ouch,” he said. Priscilla
poured down more pickle juice. “How refreshing!” said
Henry, “Now I can make it!” So Priscilla hauled him up.
When he was safe on the shelf again, Priscilla said,
“How
was
it, Henry? How was it? I’ve been waiting up
for you all night!”
“It was just great!” said Henry. I’ll tell you all
about it. You’ll never believe what happened! Soon as I
rest up.”
Priscilla poured on more pickle juice. “Wow,” said
Henry, “That’s enough! Thank you, Priscilla. Now I
really
feel at home!” He looked around him. Nothing
had changed.
“Is that you, Henry?” said Poppa Pickle’s voice.
“Yes, Poppa Pickle,” answered Henry. “It’s me.
HENRY
THE
PICKLE
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