“Pa says it’s all arranged. I don’t suppose we could talk her out of it, either.”
“I think we’d better try,” Sarah Jane declared. “How do we know we’ll be able to stand this Mrs. Porter? She’s probably old and crotchety.”
“And doesn’t like children,” I added. “It will just ruin our ninth and tenth grades. What are we going to do about it?”
“We’ll have to think of something,” Sarah Jane said. “We may have to be such wonderful students she won’t be able to leave us.”
“Let’s stay within reason,” I retorted. “You’re talking about eighteen human beings who haven’t had much experience in being wonderful.”
When we arrived at school, it was obvious that the news had already spread. Some of the younger children were crying, and I had to admit that I felt like it too. This was one occasion when all the children in school were agreed. We could not let Miss Gibson leave.
After the opening prayer, we joined halfheartedly in singing a hymn. Miss Gibson was perplexed. “What’s the matter with everyone this morning?” she inquired. “You all look as though you’d lost your last friend.”
To her amazement, the little ones began to cry again. “Why, whatever has happened?” Miss Gibson asked. “Is there something I don’t know about?”
Warren Carter raised his hand. “No, ma’am, you know about it all right. But we just found out, and we don’t like it.”
“I don’t understand,” Miss Gibson said. “Just what do I know that you don’t like?”
“Miss Gibson, is it true that someone called Mrs. Porter is going to be our teacher next year?” asked Walter Gibbs.
Miss Gibson looked astonished, and then became serious. “Yes, Walter. It’s true.”
“That’s what we don’t like! We don’t want you to leave!”
“Why, I’m—I’m glad you feel that way,” Miss Gibson said. “It’s nice to be appreciated. And you know how much I love all of you.”
“Then you won’t let Mrs. Porter take over, will you?” Sarah Jane asked.
“I’m afraid that’s all taken care of,” Miss Gibson answered. “She has already been hired. But come,” she added cheerfully, “we still have several weeks of school left to enjoy each other. Let’s be happy and have a good time, shall we?”
Everyone settled down to work, but no one was happy—unless you counted Miss Gibson. Every once in a while we saw a smile on her face that disappeared when she caught us watching her.
“You’re doing a lot of woolgathering,” Ma said to me as I sat at the table that evening. “You haven’t turned a page of that book in the last half hour.”
“I know.” I sighed. “I can’t concentrate on medieval history when my mind is full of Miss Gibson leaving. I don’t understand why she has to go!”
“You don’t expect a young lady like Miss Gibson to spend the rest of her life teaching in the same school, do you? Maybe she has other plans that are important to her. After all, she’s been here for eight years.”
“I just don’t like things to change, Ma. I want them to stay the way they are.”
“Everything changes, Mabel,” Ma told me. “We’d be in pretty sad shape if it didn’t.”
“I don’t see why.”
“If the good didn’t change, the bad wouldn’t either. I think God knew what He was doing to allow some of both in our lives.”
“Maybe so,” I muttered, “but I’m not very happy with the timing. Two more years is all I ask for. Is that too much?”
My question fell on an empty kitchen; Ma had left to get her mending.
“Are you still going to be teaching next year?” I asked Miss Gibson at recess the following day.
“Yes, I plan to be.”
“Can you tell us where you’ll be?” Sarah Jane asked.
“Not right now. But I’ll let you know before school is out.”
We didn’t know much more than we had before. “I suppose we should plan a farewell for her,” Sarah Jane said. “My heart’s not in it, but we can’t let her go without a party.”
“Just remember to ask her to come,” I said. “Remember when we forgot to invite her to her own birthday party?”
“We were just kids then,” Sarah Jane said, dismissing the thought. “We wouldn’t do anything stupid like that again. And, besides, you can’t let past mistakes run your life. Let’s go to my house and work on plans.”
“All right,” I said reluctantly. “But, Sarah Jane, isn’t there anything we can do to make her change her mind?”
“This may be one of the inevitables of life,” Sarah Jane said. “Miss Gibson has always told us that there are natural results of causes that you might as well not try to change.”
“I think she was referring to natural laws, like gravity and death,” I replied. “I don’t think Miss Gibson is ready to fall or die.”
We had reached the Clarks’ porch, and as we opened the door, Sarah Jane’s mother jumped and pushed something under her apron.
“Goodness!” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here, Ma,” Sarah Jane answered. “Have you forgotten about me since morning?”
“Of course not, silly.” Mrs. Clark laughed. “I just wasn’t expecting you so early. Are you going to your room to do homework?”
“We have work to do all right,” I answered. “We’ll see you later.”
Sarah Jane closed the bedroom door and sat down on the bed. “Did it look to you as though she hid something when we came in?”
“I thought so,” I said.
“What could it be? It’s not close to Christmas, and it’s not near my birthday. What would she want to hide from her own daughter?”
“I’m sure you’ll know when she wants you to,” I told her. “Right now we have more important things to think about. When shall we have the party?”
“The last day of school,” Sarah Jane suggested. “We can have all our folks bring food for a big picnic at noon.”
“That’s good. We should have one of the older boys make a speech—but there is only one boy in the ninth and one in the tenth grade. Which will it be?”
“It’s a sorry choice.” Sarah Jane giggled. “Lester Blackburn is too shy to raise his voice, and Ted Simmons talks so fast you can’t understand him. Why don’t we ask your pa to do it? He’s president of the school board.”
“He might, I suppose,” I said. “I’ll talk to him about it. Shouldn’t we give Miss Gibson a going-away gift?”
Sarah Jane nodded. “We don’t have time to make anything, though. Do you suppose we could get enough money from all of us to buy something?”
“If everyone has as much as I have,” I said with a sigh, “we could afford a couple of licorice sticks. Ma has a few crystal plates that she uses for wedding gifts; maybe she’ll think this is just as important. I’ll ask her.”
I got home in time to set the table for supper, and I mentioned the plate to Ma.
“I think that would be nice,” she said. “They’re wrapped in a comforter in the chest at the foot of our bed. Lift them out carefully.”
I located a plate and laid it on the bed while I put things back in order. As I turned to leave, I spied a scrap of lavender material on the floor.
“This is pretty, Ma,” I said. “What is it for?”
Ma looked a little flustered. “It’s about the right size for a quilt block,” she replied. “I suppose that’s what I’ll use it for.”
I had so many other things on my mind that I didn’t ask where she had gotten it. I spent the evening planning a program for our party and making lists of all we had to do.
On the last day of school, I was both sad and excited. “You will come for the picnic, won’t you, Pa?” I asked at breakfast.
“I wou
ldn’t miss it. And I’ll try to say something suitable for a farewell.” His eyes twinkled, which should have warned me that there was a surprise in store.
At noon everyone gathered on the grass behind the schoolhouse. It was a large group, and for a time no one noticed the strange young man who stood near Miss Gibson. But we didn’t have long to wonder who he was.
“Boys and girls, and parents,” Miss Gibson said, “I want you to meet Mr. James Porter. He and I are going to be married on Sunday.”
“Porter! Mrs. Porter! Why—you’re not leaving at all; you’re just changing your name!” Sarah Jane exclaimed.
Miss Gibson wasn’t finished. “We want all of you to be present. And we’re asking my four oldest students to stand up with us: Lester Blackburn, Ted Simmons, Sarah Jane Clark, and Mabel O’Dell.”
There were a lot of congratulations and best wishes from everyone. The “farewell” party was a complete success.
“I won’t sleep a wink between now and Sunday,” Sarah Jane exclaimed. “I’ve never been so excited.”
“What will I wear?” I asked Ma. “I don’t have anything good enough for a wedding.”
“How about that lavender quilt block?” Ma said. “Don’t you think that would be nice?”
“You knew all the time!” I accused her. “And you let us worry about Miss Gibson leaving!”
“It didn’t hurt you to worry a little,” Mrs. Clark said. “But I was sure you two had seen Sarah Jane’s dress the other day.”
“So that’s what you were hiding under your apron,” Sarah Jane said. “I didn’t think anyone could keep anything from us. I guess I was wrong.”
“Don’t worry,” I told her. “You probably never will be again. But at least now you know how the rest of us mortals feel.”
Sarah Jane made a face at me, and we ran off to congratulate our teacher.
9
Really Responsible
“Ma, why didn’t you have two more daughters instead of sons?”
We were canning vegetables, and I was in charge of boiling the jars. Ma stirred the tomatoes before she answered. “I didn’t have much choice about that,” she told me. “I’m thankful to have one daughter. Sons are pretty nice to have too.”
“I can’t think what for,” I retorted. “Why don’t they have to stand over a hot stove once in a while?”
“For the same reason you don’t spend the day in the field with Pa or milk the cows night and morning. It’s called a division of labor.”
“Not a very fair division if you ask me,” I grumbled. “I’d rather be outdoors in the fresh air and sunshine.”
“All right. I’ll watch the jars and you go get some peas and lettuce from the garden,” Ma offered. “It’s time to start dinner.”
“That’s not what I had in mind.”
“I know,” Ma replied dryly. “What you had in mind was sitting on the fence, gazing out across the field. But that doesn’t run a farm.”
While I washed the lettuce at the pump and shelled the peas, I dreamed about what I might be doing in five years. My dreams definitely didn’t include a farm.
“I think I’d like to go far, far away,” I announced to Ma as I carried the pans into the kitchen.
“You’ve already been far, far away,” she said. “You should be able to separate the pods from the peas better than this.”
“I was thinking of my future,” I told her.
“If your future is anything like your present, you’re going to need a caretaker,” Ma retorted. “I wish you’d learn to keep your mind on your work. Can’t you see that it takes twice as long to do a job over again?”
Later Sarah Jane dropped in, and we sat on the porch to talk.
“I’ve been making plans for my future,” I said. “There aren’t a whole lot of things a girl can do, but I’d like to do all of them.”
“How many lives are you planning on living?” Sarah Jane answered. “I’d be glad to think of one thing I’d like to do.”
I looked at her thoughtfully. “Your biggest talent is telling me when I’m wrong,” I said. “There must be some way you could build that into a career.”
I ducked as she swatted at me. “What are all these things you want to do?” she asked.
“I could teach school, or maybe be a nurse, or—”
“Or you could get married,” Sarah Jane finished for me. “I think your best choice is right there. You could be a farmer’s wife or minister’s wife or storekeeper’s wife or—”
“No, no,” I interrupted her. “I’ve been somebody’s daughter this far in my life, and I don’t want to be somebody’s wife the rest of it. I want to be successful on my own. I’d like to have a really responsible place in life.”
Sarah Jane shook her head. “You’re dreaming, Mabel. That would mean you’d be in charge of something. Can’t you imagine what a disaster that would be?”
“Sarah Jane! I don’t discourage you when you tell me about your dreams!”
“Of course not,” she replied. “I don’t want to try anything I’m not able to accomplish. What you have to do is suit your ambitions to your capabilities. When you get older, you’ll thank me for my advice.”
“Just don’t stand on one foot until I do,” I retorted.
But when I reported the conversation to Ma that evening, I admitted the truth of Sarah Jane’s remarks. “That’s the maddening thing about Sarah Jane—she’s usually right.”
“You’ve improved somewhat over the years,” Ma told me. “But you have a ways to go. I appreciate every little bit of progress.”
“I’ve never had any big responsibility to see if I could handle it, Ma. How does anyone know what I’d do?”
“Do you remember the parable of the talents that Jesus told? The master said that when the servant was faithful over a little, he would receive much. You have to prove yourself in small things, and then you’ll be trusted with large ones.”
“From now on, I’m going to be a responsible person,” I declared. “I’ll show everyone!”
“Responsible for what?” Roy asked as he came into the kitchen. “Seems to me you’re already responsible for everything that goes wrong around here. What more do you want?”
“Now, Roy,” Ma warned.
“I’ll ignore that,” I said.
A few days later, Ma asked me to sew some buttons on Pa’s shirt.
“Sure,” I replied. “Just as soon as I finish this chapter.” I took the buttons and slipped them into my apron pocket. Before I had reached the end of the page, Sarah Jane arrived with some exciting news.
“How would you like to take a trip to Eastman with me?” she asked. “We’re going to leave on the early-morning train and come back on the evening one. We’ll have all day to look around town and have a picnic in the park. Won’t that be fun?”
“I’d love to!” I exclaimed. “I think Ma would let me go. What day will it be?”
“Friday,” Sarah Jane replied. “The day after tomorrow.”
“That would be a nice trip,” Ma said when we asked her. “It was kind of your folks to invite Mabel to share the day with you. Will you be taking the seven-thirty train?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sarah Jane replied. “And Mabel won’t need to bring anything. Ma will have enough lunch for all of us.”
“Perhaps you could pick up some yard goods and thread for me, Mabel,” Ma said. “That is, if you aren’t having such a good time you forget it.”
“I told you I was going to be reliable,” I said. “Of course I won’t forget it.”
Sarah Jane and I went outside to talk about the trip. “You shouldn’t be promising things like being more reliable,” she said. “You know how easy it is for you to have something on your mind and not remember stuff.”
�
��If you weren’t my best friend, I wouldn’t have anything to do with you,” I said. “Don’t you think people can change for the better?”
“Certainly ‘people’ can,” Sarah Jane replied. “It’s just you that I don’t have much hope for. But never mind, I’ll help you remember what your ma wants.”
I didn’t have to be called from my room on Friday morning; I was up as soon as I heard Ma in the kitchen. My good dress and shoes were ready to put on, but I would wait until after breakfast to get dressed. As I set the table, I went over what Ma had asked for.
“You want six yards of a pretty blue print, eight yards of white shirting, and three spools of white thread. Is that right?”
“Yes,” Ma said, “that’s it. I’ll surely be glad to have it. Pa and the boys need shirts in the worst way. Which reminds me—Pa is going to town this morning, and the only shirt he has to wear is the one you sewed buttons on the other day. Where did you put it?”
“I’ll go see,” I said hurriedly. “I think it’s in my room.” I knew it was in my room, hanging over my chair. But where were the buttons? I didn’t have much time to find them and get them sewed on. I couldn’t tell Ma that I’d forgotten about it. Frantically I tried to remember what I had been doing when she gave them to me.
“Mabel,” Ma called. “You’d better hurry if you’re going to eat. Here’s Sarah Jane coming up the steps now.” But I couldn’t find the buttons anywhere.
I looked everywhere I thought the buttons could be and then went back and looked again. I could hear Ma and Sarah Jane talking in the kitchen, and I knew I couldn’t stay in my room forever. Reluctantly I took the shirt and went out to face Ma.
“You’ve either done something you shouldn’t or you haven’t done something you should,” Sarah Jane said with a sigh. “I can tell by the look on your face.”
“I didn’t sew the buttons on Pa’s shirt, and now I don’t know where they are,” I blurted out.
“I’m not surprised,” Ma replied. “I thought when I saw you put those buttons in your pocket that they’d be out of sight, out of mind.”
“Oh! That’s right! They’re in my apron. But I won’t have time to do what I was supposed to and still go. It’s my fault; I can’t blame anyone else.” I looked imploringly at Ma. “Would you do it for me, just this once if I promise not to forget again?”
Treasures from Grandma's Attic Page 5
