Anna on the Farm by Mary Downing Hahn, Diane de Groat Page A

gave me a ride on her horse. Then we waded in the creek and slipped on the stones. We both got wet. It was so much fun we laughed and laughed."
    Aunt Aggie laughs, too. "What a pair of silly geese," she says.
    "Nell's the prettiest girl I've ever seen," Anna says. "I wish I could be just like her."
    Aunt Aggie smiles and strokes Anna's braids. "You're fine just the way you are," she says.
    "I'll never be as pretty as she is," Anna says sadly. "And I'll never have a horse like Silver Heels."
    "Pshaw, Anna," says Aunt Aggie. "There's nothing wrong with your face. And we can't all have horses."
    Anna sighs. No matter what Aunt Aggie thinks, she would gladly trade her plain freckled face for Nell's rosy face.
    Just then, Theodore and Uncle George come stumping up the porch steps.
    "Time for lemonade," Aunt Aggie says, running to fetch the pitcher.
    Soon all four are gathered around the table, drinking lemonade and looking at the gas ranges in the catalog.
    "Well, what do you think, George?" Aunt Aggie peers at her husband, her small face tense with worry. "Can we afford a new stove?"
    Uncle George leans back in his chair and lights his pipe. "The corn looks good this year. Prices are up, too. And the hay's doing well."
    He pauses and Aunt Aggie leans toward him. She holds her breath.
    "Yes," Uncle George says at last, "I think we can get the stove this fall."
    Aunt Aggie claps her hands and runs around the table to give Uncle George a big kiss.
    Anna cannot imagine being excited about something as boring as a stove. She hates to help Mother cook. When she grows up, she plans to eat all her meals in restaurants—no peeling or slicing for Anna, no stirring, no cleaning up, no dishes to wash or pots to scrub. But she's happy for her aunt.
    And so is Theodore. "Hooray," he shouts. "No more wood to chop!"

TEN
Trouble in the Barn
    O NE HOT AFTERNOON, A NNA AND T HEODORE ARE sitting on the front porch, trying to stay cool in the shade of the wisteria vine. Anna is reading
Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm,
but Theodore is bored. He says it over and over. "I am bored, I'm bored, I'm bored."
    "Why don't you go inside and get a book to read?" Anna asks. She's bored of hearing Theodore say he's bored. Especially since she's perfectly happy herself. Or would be if Theodore would just keep quiet.
    "Reading is something you do in school." Theodore scowls at Anna. "I hate school."
    "Don't be silly," Anna says. "You can read anytime, not just in school." She shows Theodore her book. "This is a funny story about a girl who goes to live with her aunts on their farm. Want me to read it to you?"
    Theodore stretches out on his back. "Go ahead," he says. "I ain't got anything better to do."
    Anna loves to read out loud. Mrs. Levine told her last year she was very "expressive." Anna wasn't sure she meant it as a compliment, because she was frowning when she said it. In fact, Anna is almost sure Mrs. Levine meant she was showing off. But she decides to pretend it was a compliment, anyway.
    Anna reads a funny scene to Theodore. Miss Dearborn is teaching Rebecca grammar, and Rebecca is having trouble understanding conjunctions, something Anna can understand very well. The scene makes her laugh so hard she has to stop reading till she recovers, but Theodore doesn't even smile. The expression on his face tells Anna he thinks the story is silly. Maybe he doesn't even know what conjunctions are.
    "Do you want me to keep reading?" Anna asks crossly.
    Instead of answering, Theodore jumps to his feet and waves at two boys walking up the lane. "Homer!" he shouts. "Henry!"
    Anna looks at the boys. Homer is tall and skinny and Henry is short and skinny. Otherwise, they could be twins. Their straight brown hair hangs in their eyes. Their ears stick out. Their teeth are too big for their mouths. They stare at Anna as if they've never seen a girl before. Compared with them, Theodore is a perfect gentleman.
    "Who's she?" Henry asks, pointing a dirty finger at Anna.
    "Her