GRANDMA'S ATTIC SERIES (7 page)

"You've found out something important today!" Ma said. "It often happens that if you don't do anything, there's nothing you want to do. That's a pretty sad way to live." '

I agreed with Ma, and I didn't try that again.

Grandma looked at me, and her eyes twinkled. "Do you think you'd like to try it?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so. I guess it's nicer to have something to do."

The telephone rang in the old farm kitchen, and Grandma went to answer it. "Yes, Mr. Jenkins. I'll be in to get it this morning. Thank you."

Then Grandma turned to me. "Would you like to walk to the store with me? The material is here. We can begin a dress for you this afternoon."

Of course I was eager to go, and we started off down the shady lane to the road.

"Did you have a telephone when you were a little girl, Grandma?"

"Mercy, no. We didn't have electricity, or running water, or a lot of other things we enjoy now. But we didn't mind. I guess you don't miss things you've never had."

"I don't know how you got along without a telephone. How did you find out what everybody was doing? Or what if you needed someone to come and help you?"

Grandma laughed. "That was easy. If something important happened, a neighbor would ride over and tell us. Or if we needed help, Pa would send one of the boys to the nearest farm. News got around fast even without a telephone. In fact, it sometimes got around before it happened!"

"How could it do that? You can't tell news before it happens!"

"Some people can," Grandma replied. "And it causes trouble sometimes too."

"Did you do that, Grandma?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I did. I certainly didn't mean to do anything wrong, but I did like to talk. My tongue got me into difficulty more than once."

We had arrived at the store, so I waited until Grandma had paid for the material, and we were on the way home before I asked, "What did you tell that hadn't happened, Grandma? Did you make it up?"

"No," Grandma replied, "not really. I told what I had heard, but I didn't know the whole story. I'll tell you how it happened."

One of the things we looked forward to every spring was the visit of the peddler. For as long as I could remember, it was always the same one every year. When we would see his

wagon coming down the lane, we would run to meet him. If he came in the morning, he stayed for midday dinner. If he came in the afternoon, he stayed for supper. Sometimes he could even be persuaded to spend the night.

Oh, that peddler's cart was wonderful! I'll never forget the splendid things we had to look at when he let down the sides of his wagon. Ma and I wanted to see all the cloth and ribbons and thread he had to display. Of course, the boys and I looked longingly at all the toys and games that were there.

Pa was interested in the tools and in the big grindstone, a large wheel made of something like cement. It sat on a wooden standard, and when the peddler pumped it with his foot, it went around and sharpened metal things. Ma brought her knives and scissors to be sharpened; Pa brought the scythe and other tools.

The peddler was a wonderful man. He could mend pots and pans, or put new soles on our shoes, or even paint a new silver backing on a mirror for Ma.

The whole day the peddler was here became a holiday, especially mealtime when we learned the news of the county. He knew what was happening to people we very seldom saw. This particular evening as we sat at the table, Ma questioned him about some of her friends.

' "Did you stop at the Blakes'?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am. I was there just last week. Everyone is well, I think. Old Uncle Tosh doesn't rightly remember things as well as he used to, though. He thought I was there to marry Harriet!"

"Harriet has been married for fifteen years!" Ma laughed "Where was Wesley when Uncle Tosh said that?"

"He'd gone to the barn. Harriet said that every time Wesley is out of sight, Uncle Tosh forgets all about him, and wants to know when Harriet is planning to get married!"

"I hope Uncle Tosh knew who Wesley was when he came back to the house," Pa remarked.

"Yes," the peddler nodded. "Most of the time he does, But sometimes he doesn't even remember Harriet. It must be hard to get old and have your past get away from you."

Ma and Pa nodded in agreement.

"How about Luke and Hannah Edwards?" Pa asked. "Are they getting on well?"

"Oh, yes. I saw them just three days ago. Ruth Edwards bought a cloth for a wedding dress."

I put my fork down and looked at the peddler with surprise. "Ruth Edwards! Sarah Jane didn't tell me that Caleb was getting married!"

Caleb was Sarah Jane's oldest brother, and she and I knew he was courting Ruth Edwards. We had talked it over often, and made so many plans about what we were going to do at the wedding, that I was surprised Sarah Jane had withheld that information from me.

"Maybe they just didn't want two nosy little girls to know all about it," Ma said. "Did it ever occur to you that they may not have told Sarah Jane?"

"But Caleb is her brother! You always know what happens to your own brother!" I turned to Reuben. "You'd tell me if you were getting married, wouldn't you?"

Reuben looked disgusted. "More likely, you'd tell me. When has anyone ever kept a secret from you?"

"That's enough," Pa interrupted. "Have you forgotten that we have a guest?"

"Sorry, Pa," Reuben said.

The subject was changed, but I was determined to get to the bottom of the story as soon as I could see Sarah Jane.

The next morning when she came to play, I hurried down to the creek where we could talk undisturbed.

"You didn't tell me that Caleb was getting married!" I accused her.

Sarah Jane's eyes grew round, and her mouth dropped open. "Married! My brother Caleb?"

"Yes, your brother. How many other Calebs do you know?"

Sarah Jane shook her head in bewilderment. "He's not getting married. I heard him tell Pa he wouldn't marry until he is twenty. And he's only nineteen now."

"Well then," I said smugly, "Ruth Edwards is going to marry someone else. The peddler told us that she bought the goods for her wedding dress!"

I was pleased to see that this was news to Sarah Jane. At least she hadn't kept anything from me.

"I don't think Ruth would keep company with Caleb if she was going to marry someone else," she said. "He just rode over to see her last evening. Are you sure that's what the peddler said?"

"Positive." I nodded. "I was sitting right there and hear it all. What should we do now?"

Neither of us thought that possibly this affair was none of our business. Or that we ought to keep out of it. Instead we began planning how to get the news out as soon as possible.

"I think we should have a party for them," I said.

"But we don't know what day it will be," Sarah Jan, protested.

"That doesn't matter. You can have a party to announce the wedding. Who shall we invite?"

We immediately set to work and invited everyone we saw to a party at Sarah Jane's house the next Saturday night Of course, we didn't think to say anything to either of our families. But word got back to Ma.

"What's this I hear about a party? Do Sarah Jane's folks know anything about it?"

"I don't think so. But I suppose she'll tell them."

"I certainly hope so. What is the party for?"

"It's a wedding party for Caleb and Ruth," I said. "It will be a surprise."

"Yes, it will," Pa agreed, "especially since they aren't getting married for another year, and haven't even set the date yet."

"Why is Ruth doing her sewing so soon?" I asked in surprise. "The peddler said she bought the goods for her wedding dress."

"The peddler said a dress, not her dress. Ruth made a wedding dress for her cousin," Ma informed me crossly. "Oh, no!"

"You'll be saying more than 'Oh!' before you get this story straightened out, young lady," Pa scolded. "How could you girls pass along a story you didn't know was true?"

"We thought it was true," I said. "What shall we do now?"

"I suggest you tell Sarah Jane's folks about it first, then start uninviting all those people. Maybe this will teach both of you to check your news before you begin spreading it around. It's a good thing it wasn't a story that could have hurt someone." '

"We learned from that experience. By the time we heard the last of that mistake, we were heartily sorry that we had been so quick to tell our news."

Grandma laughed. "Just think how much more mischief we could have done if we'd had a telephone!"

Grandma," I wailed, "look what happened to Virginia!" I held up my doll so Grandma could see how her leg had come away from her body. "Can she be fixed?"

Grandma examined the doll carefully. "I should think so. I imagine your Uncle Roy can mend her. Ask him when he comes in."

I sat on the steps and waited for Uncle Roy to come from the barn. As soon as he appeared I rushed to meet him. "Grandma says you can fix Virginia, Uncle Roy. Will you

I try, please?"

Uncle Roy sat down and looked at the dangling leg. "I think a new piece of wire will take care of that. I'll fix it for you right after dinner."

He turned the doll over and laughed. "They sure don't make dolls like they used to. I remember a doll baby your grandma had."

"Was it Emily?" I asked.

"Mercy," Uncle Roy replied, "I don't know what she called it. I remember that I called it a mess—and so did Ma."

At the dinner table that night, I questioned Grandma. "What doll did you have that your mother and Uncle Roy thought was a mess?"

Grandma thought for a moment. "You must mean Charlotte. I'd almost forgotten about her. How did you remember, Roy?"

"I was with you when you found it," Uncle Roy said. "I tried to discourage you from taking it home, but you wouldn't listen to me."

"That's right. You were there, weren't you? I wonder why Ma ever let me into the house with it."

"Because you were spoiled," Uncle Roy said and he winked at me.

"What was the matter with it?" I asked. "Why shouldn't you bring it into the house?"

"Well," Grandma said, "it was a mess. No one in the family had anything good to say about it. But I thought any doll was lovable."

"Where did you find it?" I asked.

Grandma got up to clear the table and began the story.

It was a rainy spring day in my first year of school. Roy and I were walking home together through the woods. I was lagging behind, as usual, and Roy had stopped to tell me to hurry up. He didn't particularly like his little sister tagging along, but he was responsible for me, so he didn't dare let me out of his sight.

' "Come on, Mabel," he said. "You can walk faster than that. I've got chores to do before I can play. Just because you never have to do anything."

"I do so!" I retorted. "I help Ma set the table, and I dry the knives and forks."

Roy snorted and turned to walk on.

"Wait a minute, Roy. Look at this."

Reluctantly he came back to where I stood. "Well, what is it?"

I bent over to pick something out of the mud. It was a doll—soaked almost beyond recognition. The features were nearly gone, and the clothes were torn and dripping. But to my motherly eye, it was beautiful. I hugged it to me as Roy watched in disgust.

"Ugh!" he groaned. "Throw it back! That's awful! Wait until Ma sees what you've gotten all over your front!"

I looked down and saw that I had ruined my dress; mud and water were soaking through my apron. I knew that Ma would not be pleased about that, but I couldn't throw the doll back.

"I'll take it home and clean it up," I said. "See, I'll hold it way out here." I held the doll at arm's length and began to run for home.

"It's too late to hold it way out there," Roy called after me. "You're already a mess. If I were you, I'd chuck that thing in the nearest hole."

I ignored him and continued on my way. When I ran into the kitchen, Ma was horrified.

"Oh, Mabel! What happened to you? Did you fall down? And what is that?"

"It's a doll, Ma. I found it in the woods and brought it home to take care of it. It just needs to be washed a little."

"It needs to be buried," Roy said. "I told her to leave it there, but she wouldn't listen." He put his lunch pail on the table.

"Where is your lunch pail, Mabel?" Ma asked. "Did you leave it at school again?"

"No, I had it when I left school. I must have laid it down on the road when I stopped to pick up the doll."

Ma sighed. "Go back and get her lunch pail, Roy. I don't have anything else she can carry her lunch in."

"Oh, Ma! Why can't she go back for it? It's her pail!"

Ma looked at Roy. "I guess I can put her lunch in with yours. You'll have to eat with her tomorrow."

"I'll go. I'll go."

"And you," Ma said to me, "take that filthy thing out and wash it in the trough. Then come back and change your clothes."

I knew then that Ma would let me keep the doll, but I didn't know what a surprise was in store for us. I hurried outside and swished it around in the water until most of the mud was gone, then brought it back to the kitchen.

"She's awfully heavy, Ma, but I couldn't get any more water out."

"Put it on the back of the stove to dry. And change your dress. You're a sight."

When Reuben came in with a load of wood, he poked a finger into the doll. "What's this?" he asked Ma.

"It's Mabel's doll. She found it on the way home from school."

"What's it stuffed with—rocks?"

"It's waterlogged," Ma replied. "It won't be that stiff when it dries out."

By the time Pa came in for supper, the doll had begun to smell musty.

"Phew!" Pa's face twisted in mock disgust. "What smells like an old burlap bag? I hope it's not what we're having for supper."

"Hardly," Ma answered. "It's Mabel's doll. It will probably take all night to dry out."

Several more comments were made about that doll before I went to bed: Roy offered it a decent burial, and Reuben declared he wouldn't touch it with a stick. Pa thought he'd better sit on the porch after supper and air out, since he smelled like a burlap bag himself after sitting by the stove.