Twelve Steps Up the Clock Tower Stairs
At the top of the village green stood an old clock tower, and once a year the town allowed a few children to climb its narrow stairs and look at the enormous gears inside. Ines was one of the lucky ones, and she carried a small notebook because she enjoyed counting things.
She counted the steps aloud as she climbed. There was one landing after twelve steps, another after twelve more, and a third landing after twelve again. When she reached the top and counted the steps while descending, however, she arrived at thirty-seven instead of thirty-six, and the extra step bothered her all the way to the bottom.
"There must be a mistake in my counting," she told the caretaker, Mr. Voss.
"Or perhaps there is not," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Climb again, but this time keep one hand on the wall."
Ines went up slowly, trailing her fingers along the rough plaster. Near the second landing her hand brushed a short wooden stair that was tucked into a shallow alcove, so low and narrow that the shadows had hidden it from view. It led nowhere at all, and it was no larger than a footstool.
"The builder added it for his daughter," Mr. Voss explained. "She was too short to reach the little window, so he made her a step, and the family lived beside the tower for many years."
Ines wrote in her notebook: "Thirty-six stairs for the town, and one for a girl who wanted to see out." Then she stood on it herself and, rising on her toes, looked across the green toward the pond.