Treasures from Grandma's Attic

by Arleta Richardson

  “If I believed that, I’d believe anything,” Sarah Jane muttered. “You could eat a dozen cookies between your house and the road. I’ll stop by and get them myself to be sure they get here.”

  “Honestly, Wesley,” I said, “by the time you’re ready to graduate, they’ll have to roll you out of the schoolhouse.”

  Wesley grinned. “What would a growing boy be without an appetite?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “I’ve never seen one.”

  The week did pass swiftly, as Ma had predicted. With her help, I had made a pretty Christmas apron for Hannah. It was wrapped in green tissue paper and tied with red ribbon. The program was ready too.

  “The older pupils are putting on a play instead of reciting pieces,” I told the family. “It’s a Christmas story, but I can’t tell you about it because it’s a surprise.”

  “What are you, Santa Claus or one of the reindeer?” Reuben teased.

  “That is not funny,” I replied stiffly. “There is more to Christmas than Santa Claus. There’s also a spirit of kindness and giving.”

  “Kindness we can use a lot more of,” Pa remarked, looking at Reuben. “Suppose we show a little to the animals and bed them down for the night. Shall we, boys?”

  “I’ll be home at noon tomorrow,” I told Ma as we did the dishes. “We have to be back early tomorrow evening to get everything ready for the program.”

  “I’m sure it will be just fine,” Ma said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  The program went off with hardly a mistake, and the time soon arrived for distributing the gifts. Wesley was chosen to hand them out as the names were called.

  “He was born for the job,” Sarah Jane whispered to me. “All he lacks is the beard and red suit.”

  One by one the gaily wrapped presents were brought to their owners, who shook them and poked them to try to guess what might be inside.

  “Mabel, yours must be at the bottom,” Sarah Jane said.

  “Either that or Hannah got my name,” I joked.

  Finally there was just one gift left. The name on it was David Ross. He was sick and hadn’t come to the program.

  “You didn’t get one!” Sarah Jane said in disbelief. “I didn’t think she really meant it.”

  “And I gave her that pretty apron,” I said. “See if I ever do anything nice for her again!”

  The rest of the evening didn’t seem quite so exciting to me, and I was glad when it was time to go home.

  “It’s not just that I didn’t get a present,” I explained to Ma on the way home. “The worst part is that she embarrassed me in front of my friends! It just isn’t fair. I wish I hadn’t given her that apron.”

  “Do you give a gift just to get one in return?” Ma asked me quietly. “Is that what the spirit of kindness and giving is all about?”

  “No, I guess it isn’t,” I answered. I was ashamed of myself for feeling as I did, but I was disappointed. It was hard to forgive Hannah for what she had done.

  On Sunday I had a cold and stayed home from church. When the family returned, Pa came over to the couch where I lay and dropped a box wrapped in tissue paper beside me.

  “This is yours,” he said. “It’s from David Ross. He had your name, but since he couldn’t get to the program, his folks brought his gift to church today.”

  Hannah hadn’t gotten my name! I had wrongly accused her and been resentful about something that hadn’t even happened.

  “I was so sure I knew all about the Christmas spirit,” I told Sarah Jane when I saw her. “I feel awful for thinking such mean things about Hannah.”

  “You should,” Sarah Jane replied. “After all, you know it’s more blessed to give than to receive. And since you can use all the blessing you can get, you’d better be sure to give me a Christmas present!”

  4

  The Perfect Paper

  “Why aren’t you eating your breakfast, Mabel?” Ma asked me. “Don’t you feel well?”

  “I’m fine, Ma,” I replied. “Just nervous, I guess. We have a big arithmetic test today, and I’m afraid I’ll make foolish mistakes. I know how to do the problems, but it seems as though I always slip up somewhere. I just never notice until after the papers are graded.”

  “Try not to be anxious about it,” Ma said. “Remember, ‘in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God shall keep your heart and mind through Christ Jesus.’ That’s in the fourth chapter of Philippians. We’ll pray about it, and I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

  “Thanks, Ma. I’ll be especially careful, too. Just once I’d like to get ahead of Warren Carter. He thinks he’s so smart in arithmetic that no one can beat him.”

  “I hope that’s not the only reason you want a good grade,” Ma said. “That’s hardly a worthy motive.”

  “Oh, no,” I assured her. “That’s not the only reason.” But it’s the main one, I admitted to myself. “If I could just show Warren that a girl can do as well as he can, I’d be happy.”

  On the way to school I told Sarah Jane, “I’m not going to make a single mistake on the test.”

  “How can you be so sure?” she wanted to know. “Have you seen the answers?”

  “Of course not. I haven’t even seen the problems. I just know. We prayed about it this morning. I can’t wait to see Warren’s face when I get a hundred percent.”

  “Maybe the Lord will let you make a mistake to take you down a peg,” Sarah Jane suggested. “You’d be too proud if you got a perfect paper.”

  “Thanks a lot,” I retorted. “I thought you were on my side.”

  “Oh, I am,” Sarah Jane said. “I’m just reminding you that pride goes before a fall.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I declared. “If my conscience ever wears out, I’ll always have you.”

  Sarah Jane smiled. “What are friends for? I just wish I had a chance to get a hundred on that test. I know I’ll make mistakes.”

  The test was every bit as hard as I thought it would be. I worked slowly and carefully, and when Miss Gibson said we had just enough time to check our work, I went back over each problem. I was satisfied that I had made no errors when I turned in the paper.

  “I’m glad that’s over,” Sarah Jane said as we ate lunch. “I’ll be happy with a passing grade.”

  “Did you ask the Lord to help you?” I questioned her.

  “You can’t ask the Lord to make you smarter than you are,” a voice said. We turned to find Warren Carter standing behind us. “Anyway, I don’t think God pays attention to things like schoolwork. He has more important matters to take care of.”

  “There may be a few things you don’t know,” I told him. “Who do you think gave you your brains, anyway?”

  “God did. And He expects me to use them, not come asking Him to pass a test for me. But I suppose girls need all the help they can get.” Warren walked away, leaving us to glare after him.

  “Someday he’s going to fail something,” I predicted. “He’ll see how important it is to pray.”

  “The wicked do prosper,” Sarah Jane said with a sigh. “He probably did as well on the test as you did, without praying about it. That will make him all the more unbearable. You should have thought to pray that he’d make a mistake.”

  “Well, I did pray that I’d get a better grade than his,” I admitted. “I certainly studied hard enough to deserve it. He thinks he knows it all so well that he doesn’t have to work. He’s the one who needs to be taken down a peg.”

  Sarah Jane nodded in agreement, and we went back to the room for afternoon classes.

  When I got home after school, Ma was waiting for me with fresh cookies and milk. “How did it go?” she asked. “Do you think you did a good jo
b?”

  “It was hard,” I replied, “but I did my very best.”

  “That’s all we expect of you,” Ma said. “No one needs to do better than that.”

  “Ma, do you think God made boys smarter than girls?”

  “No, I don’t. I’m sure there are some boys who are more intelligent than some girls, but it works the other way around too. I don’t think God favors boys over girls.”

  “Warren Carter does. And he says you might as well not pray about a test, because God isn’t interested in that kind of thing.”

  “That’s too bad,” Ma said. “I find it a comfort to believe that God cares about anything that affects His children. There’s nothing too small to pray about.”

  I waited impatiently for Sarah Jane to reach our gate the next morning. “Can’t you hurry a little?” I called. “What took you so long?”

  “I had to change my dress,” she replied. “Besides, I didn’t know school was a place you hurried to. What’s the rush?”

  “I want to see the grade on my paper.”

  “Not I,” she stated firmly. “That’s a pleasure I’d put off indefinitely if I could. I hope it won’t ruin your day if you don’t get a hundred.”

  The opening exercises seemed to take a lot longer than usual. I was almost chewing my fingernails before Miss Gibson picked up the test papers from her desk.

  “The examination was especially hard this time,” Miss Gibson announced. “There was only one paper with a hundred percent, and that was Mabel O’Dell’s. Warren Carter had ninety-eight.”

  I felt the blood rush to my face, and Sarah Jane’s mouth dropped open. “You did it!” she exclaimed. “You beat Warren by two points!”

  “I’m proud of you, Mabel.” Miss Gibson smiled at me as I went to get my paper. “You worked hard on this. And you, too, Warren,” she said to him. “One error is still an excellent test.”

  But not perfect, I thought triumphantly. It would have done my heart good to say it out loud, but I knew it was better not to. Warren’s look of disbelief was reward enough for me.

  “I’ll have to admit I didn’t think you could do it,” Sarah Jane said. “Or maybe I thought Warren couldn’t make a mistake. I’m sure proud of you. Your folks will be too.”

  I knew they would be pleased, and I put my paper in my books to take home. It was hard to concentrate on English and history and science the rest of the day. I noticed Warren wasn’t doing very well either, but I didn’t feel sorry for him. He deserved it for what he said about God and girls.

  I showed Ma the test as soon as I got home and then put it on the table for Pa to see when he came in. “I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed anything as much as beating Warren Carter,” I said to Ma. “Maybe he won’t be so sure of everything from now on.”

  “Don’t gloat,” Ma said. “Think how it would be if you were in his place.”

  I tried to do that, but it was hard not to believe he had it coming. After supper I helped Ma with the dishes. Then I spread my homework out on the table while Pa was looking over my test paper.

  “Mabel,” he said, “this answer isn’t right.”

  I dropped my book and hurried over to him. “It has to be, Pa! Miss Gibson corrects them from the key in her book!”

  “Books have been known to be wrong,” Pa replied. “I’ve worked this out twice and got the same answer both times. You look at my figures.”

  I carefully checked the problem that Pa had done. There was no doubt; mine was wrong.

  “How could that book have an error in it?” I cried. “People depend on books to be correct. Miss Gibson didn’t see it!”

  “She wasn’t expecting it,” Pa said. “I’m sure she didn’t think it was necessary to work every problem when she had the key.”

  “How did you find it? With all the problems on that test, how did you see the wrong one?”

  “Just by chance, I guess,” Pa answered. “I thought I’d see if I still remembered how to do these and I just picked one to work.”

  “Oh, this is awful!” I moaned.

  “There’s nothing so awful about one mistake,” Pa said. “You still have an excellent test paper.”

  “But not perfect,” I replied. “I don’t want just excellent—I want perfect. I’ll die. I feel sick just thinking about it.”

  “It hardly seems sensible to quit school over one arithmetic problem,” Ma pointed out. “Just think of the favor you’ll be doing the people who got it right.”

  “I am thinking,” I said. “What if that’s the one Warren missed? He’ll have the hundred and I’ll have ninety-eight. He’ll never let me forget it. In fact, he’ll claim he was right about not praying. It wasn’t any use.”

  Ma was silent while I gathered up my books to go to my room. “I’m sorry, Mabel. I know how disappointed you are. It’s especially hard to think you have a perfect paper and then have it taken away from you.”

  I nodded. “Warren was right about one thing, though. He said I couldn’t ask God to take a test for me—especially not when I wanted to prove that I was better than someone else.”

  I debated about whether to tell Sarah Jane on the way to school. Finally I decided she might as well know sooner as later.

  “I’m not going to tell anyone else but Miss Gibson,” I said. “She can tell the others.”

  “Why tell her?” Sarah Jane wanted to know. “The mistake in the book wasn’t your fault.”

  “The mistake on my paper was,” I replied. “It would be cheating to just let it go.”

  “How about putting down a wrong answer on your next test?” she suggested. “Then you’d be even.”

  I shook my head. “I couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair to the ones who had it right.”

  “I was just trying to think of some way to keep Warren Carter from crowing about how great boys are,” Sarah Jane said with a shrug. “I didn’t think you’d go along with it.”

  Miss Gibson was surprised when I told her what Pa had found. “I believe that’s the one Warren had marked wrong!” she exclaimed.

  “I was pretty sure it would be.” I sighed. “Justice wouldn’t be served if it weren’t. I got what was coming to me for thinking I was so much smarter than he is.”

  “Mabel,” Miss Gibson said, “I’d rather have an honest student with errors in her work than a dishonest one with a perfect record. When you are grown, people will be more interested in your integrity than in your knowledge of arithmetic.”

  That pleased me, but the real surprise came at lunchtime when Warren sidled over to where we were sitting. “That was a brave thing to do, Mabel,” he said. “I don’t think I’d have wanted to. You might even have the right idea about praying. You’re really all right—for a girl.”

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  6

  The Seamstress

  “Ma, did you remember that we’re having an ice-cream social at schoo
l in two weeks?”

  “Yes,” Ma replied. “I remember. And I’ll have a cake ready for you to take; don’t worry about it.”

  “It’s not the cake I was thinking about,” I told her. “It just came to me that a new dress would be nice.”

  Ma looked up from the bread she was kneading. “It would be fine, but I have more projects going now than I can finish in two weeks. Your good dress looks all right.”

  “How about letting me make it myself?” I ventured. “I’m sure I could do it. I’ve watched you sew all my life.”

  “I’ve watched Pa mend harnesses too, but I’m not going to try it,” Ma retorted. “There’s more to making a dress than sewing a seam. It’s always nice if it fits when you’re finished.”

  “I can’t learn any younger,” I said. “At least that’s what you and Pa say when you want me to do something.”

  “You win, Mabel.” Ma laughed. “I’ll get the patterns out after dinner and see if I have something easy to start on.”

  As soon as the dishes were cleared away, Ma brought her pattern box to the table.

  “Here, I like this,” I said.

  “I don’t think you should try pleats,” she protested. “You don’t want anything with little tucks, either. They’re awfully hard to make even.”

  “How about gathers? I could do that, couldn’t I?”

  Ma looked doubtful, but after going over all the patterns, she sighed. “That seems to be our only choice. I guess there’s not a whole lot you could do wrong to a gathered skirt.”

  Sarah Jane was skeptical when I told her that I was making my dress for the ice-cream social.

  “You don’t have enough patience, Mabel. You know how you hate to take things out and do them over. You’ll get tired of that the first day.”

  “What makes you think I’ll have to take anything out?” I protested. “I could have it just right the first time, you know.”

  “I suppose you could,” Sarah Jane conceded. “But you’ll have to admit it isn’t very likely.”