by Anna Rose Wright
There are no more Melendy books to discover, and no more jolly Eager siblings yet to meet. I feel lucky that I found the Yates clan at this late date. Thank goodness for pictorial covers and old comfortable library bindings. I saw this one across the room, and though it was totally unfamiliar to me, it promised to be one of those comfortable, chatty books. The cover told truth. There’s the barest of bare-bones plots, and a wealth of splendid anecdotes. There are delightful illustrations throughout, and all the Usual Suspects for these kinds of books: absent but well-loved parents, irascible and unrelated hired hand whose heart of marshmallow is apparent from the first, cranky old Pecksniffian relative, reclusive neighbor, harum-scarum friends, secret clubs, newsletters, boats and of course a baby alligator. This was an unmitigated delight.