by Unknown
She turned one of the photographs over. "Some of them were printed on postcards that could be sent through the mail. Like this one. But most of our pictures were on heavy
cardboard for framing or mounting in an album.
"We didn't have a lot of pictures taken, but I think we have some of everyone in the family.
"I wish you had one of Pep," I said. "He really was a nice old dog, wasn't he?"
"We thought so," grandma agreed. "All of us talked to him as though he could understand every word we said. Come to think of it," she added, "I believe he did know what we were talking about. He was just like a little child, though. If it didn't suit him to understand, he wouldn't. If it was to his advantage, he had no trouble at all.
"Ma would sometimes get awfully annoyed with him—especially when he tracked up her floor or tried to sneak into the boys' room. But I remember one time when she actually hugged him!"
"He must have done something pretty special," I said. "What was it?"
Grandma eased back in her rocking chair, and I knew she would tell me another story....
When it was cold, Pep was allowed to sleep on a rug beside the stove. Ma wasn't entirely in favor of that arrangement. But the boys and I pleaded his cause, and pa was on our side.
"He doesn't take up much room," he said. "As long as he behaves himself I don't see why he shouldn't stay in at night, now that he's getting older."
So ma consented, and we were pleased. Pep seemed to know that his good fortune depended upon his behavior. He was a model dog on cold winter nights.
One evening in late fall, we were sitting around the supper table. Pep was lying on his rug near the stove. He had his nose between his paws, and he appeared to be asleep. Reuben looked at him fondly.
"Do you remember when we brought Pep home?" he asked ma.
"Brought him home?" I asked. "I don't remember when he wasn't already here."
Reuben looked disgusted. "Of course you don't, silly. You were only two years old. We didn't even live in this house then."
Ma laughed. "You can be sure I remember. I almost killed the poor thing before I knew what it was."
"Oh, ma!" I gasped. "How could you?"
"It certainly wasn't on purpose. The boys had been down the road to the Gibbs's place. Reuben was only about six years old. When Mr. Gibbs offered him a puppy, he accepted happily. He never thought to ask us about it."
"That's right," Reuben put in. "The puppy was so small and cute: I just knew we had to have him."
A thump on the floor told us that Pep was listening, even though he didn't open his eyes.
Reuben continued. "On the way home Roy mentioned that ma might not let us keep him. I hadn't even thought of that. But the closer we got to home, the more likely it seemed.
"I decided to get him in the house without ma seeing him. We could save enough from our meals to feed him, and we could keep him hidden in our room."
"The boys slept up in the loft," ma explained, "above the kitchen. Somehow Reuben managed to sneak that puppy up the ladder and into the loft. That evening when it was time for pa and me to go to bed, I went up the ladder with a light. I always checked to be sure the boys were covered. I set the light down by the bed, and leaned over to pull Reuben's quilts up. Suddenly, the blankets at the foot of his bed began to bob up and down.
"'Oh, James!' I hollered. 'Come quick! There's a rat in Reuben's bed!'
"I grabbed the first thing that came to hand, and began beating on the lump in the bed. If there hadn't been so many covers over him, I would have knocked that poor dog senseless.
"Pa came running up the ladder and yanked back the quilts. There was that puppy, looking so woebegone that I almost cried. Of course Reuben was wide awake by now. He howled so loudly that Roy woke up and joined in. If we'd had any close neighbors, I'm sure they would all have been there.
"Finally," ma said, "everyone was settled down. There was no way I could get rid of the pup after scaring the wits out of him. So we put him in a box by the stove. He's been with us ever since."
"There have been times," pa chuckled, "when your ma thought maybe she did knock all the sense out of him. Sometimes he doesn't act too bright."
"Oh, no, pa," I protested. "Pep is awfully smart. He even knows how to spell!"
"That's right," Reuben agreed. "He really does."
"Now that I'd like to see," ma said skeptically. "I'll admit he's smart enough to know that it's warmer inside by the stove, but he can't spell."
"You watch," Reuben told her. "Pa, may I have that b-o-n-e for P-e-p?"
Pep's ears picked up, and his tail thumped loudly on the floor. He gave a happy woof and looked expectantly toward the table.
"Well, what do you know!" pa exclaimed. "He acts as though he knows what you spelled."
Ma had to agree that Pep showed some intelligence, and the dog was soon gnawing contentedly on his bone.
The next morning Sarah Jane arrived with her doll, and I ran to get my doll, Emily. Ma asked us to gather a basket of nuts for her.
"This is probably the last time we can get nuts," she said as she handed a basket to us. "It's going to snow soon."
We agreed, and took the basket, swinging it happily between us. Pep tagged along, pausing now and then to sniff through a pile of leaves or run ahead as he spied a squirrel in the path.
"I sure do like Saturdays," Sarah Jane said, "Isn't it fun to just walk through the leaves and not be in a hurry to go somewhere?"
"Yes, and I'd like it even better if we had a picnic lunch and could stay all day. But it's too cold for that now. By the time we get the nuts picked up, we'll be ready to start back."
"How come Pep knows this is Saturday?" Sarah Jane wondered. "He never follows us to school, and we start out this same way. Do you think he can tell time?"
"I wouldn't be surprised," I replied. "He's a very smart dog. Do you want to see how he can spell?"
"No dog is that smart," Sarah Jane declared. "He can't even talk."
"That's not the way he does it," I explained.
"Look, I'll show you." I picked up a stick from the ground and held it over my head. "Here, Pep! Go fetch the s-t-i-c-k." I threw it as far as I could, and Pep galloped after it, happy to have something to chase. He brought it back to me, and I turned triumphantly to Sarah Jane.
"See?"
"Oh, Mabel! He'd have brought that back if
you had said, 'go fetch the h-o-u-s-e!' That doesn't prove that he can spell. It just proves he likes to play games."
"Anyway, he's smart. Smarter than any dog I ever had."
"You never had another one," Sarah Jane pointed out.
"Are you trying to say that Pep is dumb?" I demanded. "Everything I say, you argue with me."
"I won't argue anymore," Sarah Jane promised. "Here, this tree has lots of nuts under it. Let's start here."
We set the basket down and propped the two dolls up under the tree.
"I think we can get the basket full in half an hour," I predicted. "There's a butternut tree over there, too, when we finish here."
We worked quickly, partly because we were in a hurry to get home for the cookies ma had promised us as a reward, and partly because it was getting much colder.
"Oh, look, Sarah Jane! See what I found!" I pointed to the maple tree near us. "There's a little clump of mistletoe up there. Let's get it, shall we?"
"I'll watch you get it,' she replied. "You know I can't climb a tree if I have to take my feet off the ground."
"You can't climb anything if you don't take your feet off the ground," I said. "How come you're not afraid of falling out of bed at night?"
"That's different. The bed is wider than a tree limb. I just stay away from the edge."
"Well, that isn't very far up," I decided. "I'll go up after it. Stand right there, and I'll drop it down to you."
The mistletoe was farther out than I had thought so it took awhile to work my way toward the end of the branch.
"Oh, Mabel!" Sarah Jane squeaked.
"You can't pick that mistletoe and hang onto the branch at the same time! You'd better come down."
"I'll hang on with one hand," I replied. But I was not able to do that. My other hand slipped, and I plunged to the ground. I landed on my stomach, with my arm bent under me. The wind was knocked out of me, and I lay still with my eyes closed.
"I didn't mean for you to come down that way!" Sarah Jane screamed. "Mabel, are you dead?"
When I could get my breath, I assured her that I was not. But I was hurt.
"I'd better go get your pa," Sarah Jane said anxiously. "I can't carry you home."
"No, I'd rather have you stay here with me. I'll send Pep back for help. Pep," I called to him, "go home and get pa. Hurry!"
"Mabel! For goodness' sake! You must have fallen on your head. That dog can't tell anyone what happened. Look there. He thinks you're playing another game."
It surely did look that way. After circling around me a few times, Pep grabbed Emily in his mouth and turned to run toward home.
"I'll wait just a few minutes; then I'm going myself," Sarah Jane declared. "It's too cold for you to be lying here on the ground."
By this time I was able to pull myself up and lean against the tree. I was sure my arm was broken, and I knew my knee was too sore to walk. But I was confident that Pep would get the message home, and help would be on the way.
When Pep dashed up on our porch at home, ma was working at the stove. He scratched on the door, but ma didn't turn around.
"You don't come in at this time of day," she said to him. "Go on about your business."
Pep turned and ran to the barn. Reuben met him at the door.
"What are you doing with Mabel's doll? You're going to be in trouble if you lose that. Here, give it to me."
Pep refused to give up the doll. Instead he turned and ran a short way, and then stopped. When Reuben started after him, he kept just a few feet ahead, looking back to be sure he was being followed.
"Pa," Reuben called, "I think something has happened to Mabel. Pep has her doll in his mouth, and he acts like he wants us to follow him."
It wasn't long before we heard Pep's familiar bark and pa and Reuben calling our names.
"See what I told you?" I said to Sarah Jane.
She was so happy to see pa and Reuben coming toward us, she didn't even answer me. Instead she jumped up, waving her hands in the air. "Over here, Mr. O'Dell."
Soon pa was scooping me up in his arms, and I was on my way home.
That evening after the excitement was over, ma bent down and hugged Pep.
"I guess you're good for something after all, old fellow," she said. "I won't doubt your intelligence again. And the next b-o-n-e you get will have some m-e-a-t on it!"
The Wrinkled Stockings
"OH, IT'S COLD! I shivered as I stomped the snow from my overshoes and came into the kitchen. "I was glad I had something over my ears today!"
"It is cold," grandma agreed. "Take off your snowsuit and hang it here by the fire. I've got some nice hot chocolate ready for you."
I sat down at the table and warmed my hands on the cocoa cup. "It seems like winter is awfully long this year," I complained. "I can't remember when there wasn't snow on the ground.... Here it is almost April. It ought to be spring pretty soon."
"It will be," grandma assured me. "A few weeks will make a lot of difference. Just don't start out without your warm clothes, even in April. That can be a very deceptive month around here. I surely recall one that was."
"Tell me about it, grandma. How old were you then?"
"Old enough to know better," Grandma laughed. "I suppose I was eight years old, at least. It's a wonder Sarah Jane and I both didn't die of pneumonia that year... .
It had been a long, cold winter, and the snow had stayed on the ground from the time it first fell. We were walking home from school one afternoon in late March.
"I'm sure sick of this stuff," Sarah Jane exclaimed. She kicked a blob of snow out of her way. "I'm tired of all these heavy old clothes, and getting to school all wet and . . ."
"So am I. My mittens are stiff from being soaked and dried out so many times. I'll sure be glad when spring gets here." I reached down to scratch my leg. "And another thing I'll be glad to get rid of is this horrid old long underwear. It gets itchier every day!"
"That's not all I hate about it. I can't stand the way it twists around my legs and makes big bumps in my stockings. How can we look
neat and pretty with all these lumps showing?"
"We can't," I answered. "And we can't even wear long dresses to cover them up. Anyway, I think it's close enough to spring so we don't need them any longer."
"Try to tell our mothers that," Sarah Jane said. "We'll be wearing these horrid things until the end of April."
We walked on in silence for a few moments. The more I thought about the long underwear I was wearing, the itchier it became.
We wore the long, ribbed underwear beneath our stockings. The older the underwear was, the more it stretched and the bumpier our stockings looked.
Suddenly Sarah Jane stopped in the middle of the road.
"I know what we can do!" she declared. "We can roll the underwear up above our knees! Nobody will know the difference, and our stockings will be smooth again."
"What's going to keep the long underwear from falling down? We need something to fasten it up with."
"I bet the underwear would just stay there. Our stockings would help hold it up." After thinking for a while, Sarah Jane added, "I guess we could tie a string around each leg, just in case. Why don't we try it out before we go to bed tonight so we'll know what to do in the morning?"
The more we thought about it, the more workable the plan seemed. We agreed to start the next day.
In the morning, it took me much longer to get dressed this odd way. I had to hold the long underwear up tight with one hand and try to tie the string around with a few fingers of that hand and the other free one. Finally ma called to me from the kitchen. "We're ready to eat breakfast, Mabel. Aren't you dressed yet?"
"Almost," I said. "I have to fasten my shoes."
Soon I was hurrying down to the kitchen, the bulky underwear wadding together between my legs as I walked. This wasn't going to be very comfortable, but it was a small price to pay for looking beautiful.
The family was seated, waiting for me. Pa prayed, and we began to eat.
Ma looked at me closely. "Mabel, are you planning something that I should know about?"
"No, ma. I'm not planning anything," I replied innocently. I wasn't planning anything, I told myself, I'd already done it.
"Your lessons are all finished, aren't they?"
"Oh, yes. I did those at school yesterday."
Pa laughed. "What are you worried about, ma? Has Mabel done something strange besides come late to breakfast?"
"No, I guess she hasn't. But I can always tell when she's about to do something strange. Goodness knows I've had enough practice."
"It's beginning to thaw," pa remarked. "Looks as though we may have an early spring. Won't be long now before the snow will be gone."
"I hope you're right," ma replied. "The boys have gone through two pairs of mittens apiece, and I'm going to have to start on another pair of stockings for Mabel."
I hastily tucked my feet back under my chair as far as they would go, hoping that ma wouldn't look at my legs and notice the absence of wrinkles. She was at the stove when we bundled into our coats and scarves and grabbed our dinner pails.
I met Sarah Jane at the end of the lane. "Did you do it?" she asked at once.
"Of course I did." I looked down proudly at my smooth stockings. "Don't they look nice?"
"They really do. And it feels better, too," Sarah Jane said. "Did you get by without your ma noticing?"
"She was suspicious. But she didn't see anything, so she didn't know what she was suspicious about. How about you?"
"I almost didn't make it," Sarah Jane admitted. "Ma asked me what I ha
d under my dress."
"Oh, no! What did you say?"
"I said it was my petticoat.... It was my petticoat, wasn't it? I didn't say what else it was. Anyway, she just said to pull it down smooth. Wait until the other girls see what we figured out," Sarah Jane added happily. "They'll be sorry they didn't think of it."
Unfortunately the other girls saw what we had figured out before we got a chance to tell them.
Miss Gibson called our class to the front for arithmetic. "Each of you take a problem and put it on the board," she directed. "When everyone is finished, we'll correct them."
I was absorbed in my problem when I heard the sound of snickering behind me. I turned around to see what was funny, and saw one of the little girls pointing at Sarah Jane. I knew at once what had happened. One of the underwear legs had come down below her dress!
Miss Gibson spoke to her quietly. "Sarah Jane, would you like to be excused?"
She left hastily, and the rest of us sat down. Miss Gibson went on as though nothing had happened.
When Sarah Jane returned, she slid into the seat beside me.
"What did you do?" I whispered to her.
"I had to put my underwear back where it belonged," she answered as she looked at her outstretched legs with disfavor.
"I'm not through yet," she declared. "I'll fix it so my underwear won't fall down! You just wait and see."
"What will you do?" I asked. "What if both legs had come down, clear to your shoe tops?" I shuddered to think of the awful possibility because it could happen to me. I decided to sit very still until dinnertime when I could return my underwear to its proper place.
That afternoon when we left school, we could tell that it was beginning to warm up. Little drips of water fell from the trees, and the path was slushy. We took off our mittens and swung our scarves as we trudged toward home.
"Have you thought of something yet?" I asked Sarah Jane. "What are you going to do to keep your underwear legs up?"
"I'm not going to keep them up," she answered. "I'm going to cut them off?"
I stopped and stared at her. "You wouldn't dare!" .
"Just watch me."
I stopped at her house, and we went directly to her room. Sarah Jane got her mother's scissors, took off her stockings, and began to cut her underwear off just above the knee.
