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. Here, take a candle, too," she
said generously, thrusting a thick, lumpy, beige one
into his hand.
Maybe he could use it for ear plugs, he thought.
Holding the candle awkwardly, Phineas thanked her
and left to find the window at back. Pulling a crate un-
der it, he scrambled over the sill and dropped to the
ground on the other side. Sharp, pointy stones bit into
the tender flesh of his white soles as he hobbled
through a weedy vacant lot toward the nearest street.
For one block, its name was, in fact, Mulberry
Street. Then it became Strawberry Boulevard. The
buildings were coming farther and farther apart, so he
reasoned that he must be nearing the city limits, what-
ever side of Kendermore he was on,
At last he came to a lush, overgrown public square.
The ground was blanketed in fallen leaves of every
color. Perched on a pedestal was a tree. Or was it a
statue? He was beginning to think like a kender! Step-
ping forward, he thumped it. Stone. It was a statue of
a tree. Rounding the corner of the statue, he looked
down the street to the right.
There, at the end of the short street, he saw the most
unKendermore-like setting in the entire city. In the
first place, the palace looked finished, at least from
where Phineas stood. In the second place, it didn't
share that "crates and barrels smashed together on a
grand scale" look that so many architects in Kender-
more seemed to favor. While the "smashed barrels"
style was interesting to look at, it was not beautiful.
But this building was beautiful to Phineas's eye
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