Treasures from Grandma's Attic

by Arleta Richardson

  Ma looked sorry, but she shook her head. “I don’t think I will, Mabel. I’m afraid there’s no other way for you to learn than to repair your own mistakes.”

  I nodded and went back to my room to get the buttons. I couldn’t help crying as I thought of the beautiful day Sarah Jane and I had planned. It was all spoiled, and it was my own fault.

  When I returned to the kitchen, Sarah Jane was still sitting at the table. I wiped my eyes, sat down, and jabbed at a button.

  “You’d better hurry up,” I said to her. “There’s no sense in both of us missing the trip.”

  “Shall I tell her before she finishes the job?” Sarah Jane asked Ma.

  “Tell me what?”

  “I just came by to let you know that we can’t go this morning because Pa hurt his foot. We’re going tomorrow instead. Now aren’t you glad you have another opportunity to prove how reliable you can be? You won’t get a second chance every time, you know.”

  “I’m sorry your pa hurt his foot, but I’m glad I can go. And who knows, Sarah Jane. I might live long enough to become as upright and virtuous as you are.”

  “Never mind,” she said with a grin. “I’m willing to do anything I can to help you improve. After all, you are my best friend!”

  10

  The Tangled Web

  “Mabel, it’s time to get up,” Ma called to me. Before I opened my eyes I knew what kind of day it was. Rain streamed down the window, and thunder rumbled across the fields.

  Oh, not today! I thought. How can we go to an outdoor birthday party in this weather?

  As I threw back the covers and sat up, the room seemed to spin around. My head felt light, and I was aware that my throat was scratchy. Well, Ma mustn’t find out how I felt or she wouldn’t let me go, even if the weather did clear.

  But there was no way to keep Ma from knowing. As soon as I opened my mouth, it was obvious that I had a cold.

  “Eat your breakfast,” Ma said, “and I’ll get a blanket and pillow for the couch. You can be out here today.”

  “Not all day,” I croaked. “If the rain lets up, Mrs. Brooke may still have the birthday party for her niece.”

  “She’ll have it without you,” Ma answered. “You’re not going anywhere in this shape. Anyway, it rained all night. I’m sure her yard will be much too wet for a party.”

  I knew Ma sympathized with me, and it wasn’t her fault that I had a cold, but I felt cross anyway. “I’ll be glad when I’m old enough to decide for myself when I’ll stay in bed,” I grumbled.

  “So will I, Mabel.” Ma sighed. “I don’t enjoy this any more than you do. But until you are old enough, you’ll have to go along with what I say. Now, would you like a book to read, or are you going to lie there and complain?”

  I chose a book and read until my eyes closed. I didn’t wake up till Pa and the boys came in for dinner. “It’s clearing,” Pa said. “That was a good rain. I think we can check fences this afternoon; the fields are too wet to work.”

  The sun came out. I was sitting in a warm place on the porch when Sarah Jane came by. “You look awful,” she said.

  “Thanks,” I replied. “There’s nothing like a visit from a friend to brighten one’s day. I don’t feel very good either, in case you’re interested.”

  “I can tell you something that will make you feel better,” Sarah Jane said. “Mrs. Brooke isn’t having the birthday party today. She postponed it.”

  “Oh, how wonderful! I don’t have to miss it after all! How long do I have to get rid of this cold?”

  “Until Sunday.”

  I stared at Sarah Jane in disbelief and then glanced toward the door to see if Ma was in earshot. “Sunday? Mrs. Brooke is having her party on Sunday?”

  “Yep.”

  “But we can’t go on Sunday. Our folks would never allow it.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” said Sarah Jane. “As far as I can see, the only way we’ll be able to go is for them not to know about it.”

  “And just how do you plan to arrange that?” I asked. “My ma knows where I’m going, how long it takes to get there, and when I’ll be back every day of my life. And yours does too. If that’s as far as your plan goes, it’s not far enough.”

  “I didn’t think it would be. But you’re good at devious plans. You come up with something.”

  “You’re just full of compliments today, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t be cross, Mabel. You want to go to this birthday party as much as I do. There has to be some way we can arrange it.”

  “Maybe we’d better work on your idea,” I mused. “If our folks don’t know where we’re going, they can’t forbid it.” I thought a moment. “Did you tell your ma you were coming over this afternoon?”

  “Didn’t have to. She knows if you’re not at our house, I’m at yours.”

  “That’s the answer then. Ma will think I’m going to your place Sunday afternoon. Your ma will think you’re coming here. We can meet halfway and go on to the party.”

  “Oh, Mabel! Do we dare?”

  “Of course we dare. Who’s going to know?”

  Sarah Jane looked at me sharply. “Are you sure your conscience isn’t going to kick you afterward until you tell someone what we did?”

  “Consciences don’t kick; they prick.”

  “Your conscience kicks,” she corrected me. “You’ve never gotten by with anything in your life, ’cause if your folks don’t find out, you tell ’em. Are you sure you won’t do it this time?”

  “Of course I’m sure! I’m not a child anymore, you know.”

  Sarah Jane got up to leave. “I’ll see you later. I’d feel easier about this whole thing if I didn’t know you so well.”

  By Sunday my cold was better, and I got ready to go to church with the family. It was a beautiful morning, and Ma quoted a Scripture verse as we got into the buggy: “This is the day that the Lord hath made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.” My heart sank, and I was tempted to tell her what we were planning. But the thought of Sarah Jane’s “I knew you would” kept me silent.

  After dinner, I met Sarah Jane at the end of the lane, and we started toward Mrs. Brooke’s house.

  “I’m proud of you, Mabel,” she said to me. “I was sure you’d back out.”

  “I’m not proud of me,” I replied. “You know we’re being deceitful.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Mabel. You can’t disobey your folks unless you do something they told you not to. We aren’t doing that.”

  Her argument sounded logical, but deep down I knew better. I would go to the party because I’d said I would, but my heart wasn’t in it.

  “Come on,” Sarah Jane said impatiently. “You look as if you were going to get castor oil instead of birthday cake. Can’t you cheer up a little?”

  “Don’t you feel the least bit guilty?” I asked her.

  “I probably would if I thought about it,” she said with a shrug. “So I don’t think about it.”

  I determined to stop thinking about it too and have a good time at the party. A number of people were there when we arrived, and the yard looked very festive. Mrs. Brooke had tied streamers in the trees, and a large table full of little sandwiches and cakes was set up in the shade.

  Sarah Jane grabbed my arm. “Mabel, whatever you do, don’t pour punch down your front or sit on someone’s cake. If you get anything on that dress, your ma will know for sure where you’ve been.”

  “You sound like an old mother hen,” I told her. “Why don’t you just look out for your own dress?”

  “I’m just trying to help you. I’m a naturally tidy person, but you’re inclined to have an accident every chance you get.”

  I glared at her, but before I could reply, Mrs. Brooke saw us. “Oh, hello, girls. I’m s
o glad you could come. Have you been over to get refreshments?” She led us over to the table with an invitation to help ourselves.

  We were so interested in the activity around us that we didn’t notice when the sky turned black and a wind came up.

  Mrs. Brooke called for everyone to go into the house, and the young men carried the table and chairs to the porch. No sooner had we taken shelter than the skies opened up and the rain came down in torrents.

  “It’s raining so hard that it shouldn’t last long,” Mr. Brooke predicted. But he was wrong. The storm showed no sign of letting up.

  “We’ll need a boat to get home in this,” I said as Sarah Jane and I stood by the window and watched the storm. “We can’t stay here much longer, or—” We looked at each other. We both had the same picture of her pa going to my house to get her and my pa going to her house to get me. When they found out we weren’t at either place, there would definitely be trouble.

  “Shall we make a run for it?” Sarah Jane asked.

  “In our good shoes? If you think we’d be any better off by going home soaked to the bone, you’re mistaken. They’d want to know why we didn’t wait where we were until someone came for us.”

  Sarah Jane sighed and looked back out the window.

  “Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive,” she quoted.

  “This is a fine time to think of that,” I said. “If you’re going to recite something, make it Scripture.”

  “Do you think God is angry at us for going to a party on a Sunday when we knew our folks wouldn’t want us to?” Sarah Jane wondered.

  “I don’t think so,” I replied. “The Bible says He causes the rain to fall on the just and the unjust alike, so it must not be a punishment. We brought this one on ourselves.”

  “You’re probably right,” Sarah Jane agreed. “And that means we have to take the consequences ourselves too.”

  Mrs. Brooke came over to where we were standing. “Is someone coming after you girls?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am,” I answered. “I don’t think so.”

  “No one even knows where we are,” Sarah Jane blurted.

  “Oh, dear. You mean your folks don’t know you’re here?”

  We nodded.

  “We’ll have to see that you get home,” Mrs. Brooke said. “I’m sure the Carters will drop you off.”

  They were glad to, and we were soon on the way home. I was the first to be let out, and when I ran into the kitchen, I saw at once that what we feared had happened. Mr. Clark was sitting at our table, and Pa was nowhere to be seen.

  “Mabel!” Ma cried. “Where have you been? And where is Sarah Jane?”

  “She’s on her way home, Ma. The Carters brought us.”

  “What were you doing at the Carters’?” Mr. Clark asked me. “We thought Sarah Jane was here.”

  “We weren’t exactly at the Carters’,” I replied.

  “And where exactly were you?” Ma wanted to know.

  “We went to the birthday party at Mrs. Brooke’s.” I looked down at the floor, and the silence in the kitchen seemed to get louder. I wished Ma would say something.

  Finally Mr. Clark cleared his throat. “Well, I’d better be getting on home. I’m glad you’re back safely.”

  Ma saw him to the door. Then she turned and said, “You’d better get your clothes off, Mabel. They’re damp.”

  “Aren’t you going to punish me?”

  “We’ll talk about it when Pa gets back. Go along now.”

  Pa was drying himself off by the time I got back to the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry, Pa. I know I did wrong.”

  “Do you know why we’d rather you didn’t go to a party on a Sunday?” he asked me.

  “Yes, it’s the Lord’s Day.”

  Pa nodded. “And we believe that Sunday is set apart for worship and rest. There are six other days to work and play.”

  “We didn’t do anything but eat and talk. We didn’t play games.”

  Pa put his arm around me. “You’re getting old enough now to decide some things for yourself. How you spend your time is one of them. I hope you remember, though, that if you have to scheme to get something, you would probably be better off without it.”

  “Thanks, Pa. I’ll remember,” I said as I hugged him. Then I went off to bed, happier than I had been all day.

  11

  Gypsies!

  “Whew! I don’t think it’s ever been this hot before!” Sarah Jane exclaimed.

  “You say that every summer,” I replied. “I try to think about something cool and not pay attention to the heat.”

  “It doesn’t do you much good,” Sarah Jane retorted. “Your face looks like a pickled beet.”

  We sat under the big tree at the end of our lane, facing the dry and dusty road. The heat seemed to rise from it in waves.

  Suddenly an unusual contraption appeared around the curve. It looked like a house on wheels. The sides of the wagon bed were built up, and a canvas was stretched over the top for a roof. A dark-haired man walked beside the horse, and a woman with a shawl over her head sat in the doorway of the back of the wagon. Two little boys ran along behind.

  We watched silently until the strange apparition disappeared from sight.

  “Did you see that, Mabel?” Sarah Jane asked. I nodded. “Good,” she said. “I thought maybe the heat was getting to me the way they say it does in the desert, when you start seeing things.”

  “A mirage,” I said.

  “A what?”

  “A mirage. That’s what you see in a desert. Only I don’t think it looks like a wagon. Who do you suppose they are?”

  “I don’t know,” Sarah Jane answered. “I’ve never seen them before. Do you imagine they live in that wagon?”

  “There’s not room enough in there to live,” I replied. “Where would they cook and eat and do the washing?”

  “It looked to me like they had all they owned on there. I saw cooking pots and clothes and everything.”

  “Maybe they’re moving from one farm to another,” I suggested.

  “I don’t think so,” she disagreed. “There wasn’t room for furniture in there. I think they live in it.”

  “Gypsies,” Pa said when we told him what we had seen. “They’re a group of wandering people. They stay awhile in one place, and then they move on.”

  “They’ll steal you blind, too,” Roy chimed in.

  Pa looked at him sternly. “That’s not fair to say. Not all Gypsies are thieves, just because an occasional one takes something. There are dishonest people in every walk of life.”

  Reuben returned from town with the announcement that the Gypsies were camped in the Gibbses’ back pasture, next to the creek.

  “Is it just one wagon?” Pa asked. “Usually they travel in caravans.”

  “Just one,” Reuben replied. “It doesn’t look like a very large family. I only saw two children.”

  “What do they do for a living?” I asked Pa. “How can they work if they don’t live in one place very long?”

  “Some of the men are silversmiths,” Pa told me.

  “And I’ve seen beautiful handwork the women do,” Ma said. “I don’t think I’d want to be on the go all the time, though. I feel more comfortable on a piece of land that belongs to me and in a house that stands still.”

  “I’d like it,” I said. “Think of all the places you’d see.”

  “If you’ve seen one back road, you’ve seen them all,” Roy said. “And besides, Gypsies aren’t very well liked. You’d get pretty lonesome.”

  Sarah Jane agreed when I discussed it with her the next morning. “You couldn’t live in a wagon, Mabel. There wouldn’t be room enough for all your stuff. You’ve still got t
he wood chips we used for dishes when we played house.”

  “They are memorabilia,” I told her loftily. “I wouldn’t take everything I owned with me. Just the necessities.”

  “You’d have to stop off here once a month to leave the memorabilia you’d collected along the road.”

  We talked about walking down to the Gibbses’ to see if the Gypsies were still there but decided against it.

  “It’s not that we’re afraid of them,” I said to Ma as we did the dinner dishes. “But we didn’t want them to think we were spying on them.”

  “That was sensible,” Ma said. “I think they like to keep pretty much to themselves.”

  We were in for a surprise the next morning. When Ma opened the back door to call Pa and the boys to breakfast, she just missed hitting a little Gypsy boy who was standing on the porch. “Oh, mercy!” Ma exclaimed. “You startled me! Have you been here long?”

  The boy shook his head and said, “Baby sick. You come?”

  “Of course,” Ma replied promptly. Quickly she turned, and as she buttered some biscuits and put ham on them, she instructed me to go ahead with breakfast. Before Pa got to the house, she was sailing down the lane with the little boy running to keep up with her.

  “Do you think Ma should have gone over there by herself?” Reuben worried.

  “Ma can take care of herself,” Pa replied. “When someone is sick, you know she’ll go.”

  “But Gypsies, Pa,” Roy said. “They aren’t—”

  “Gypsies are people, Roy. They live differently, but they have the same needs everyone else has. God loves them as much as He does us. You know your ma doesn’t ask people for their pedigree if they need help.”

  That closed the matter, but even Pa was surprised a little later to see the Gypsy wagon turning down our lane. I watched openmouthed as Ma jumped down from the back of the wagon and then reached up to take a shawl-wrapped bundle from the Gypsy woman.