right,” said the minister, laughing. “I don’t mind at all. I know how boys are.”
And I know how one is going to be this afternoon, Ma thought grimly. He’ll wish he’d never seen that front door.
The minister stayed for dinner, and we all enjoyed his visit. But when he and the Carter boys had left, Roy got a tanning from Ma he didn’t forget for some time!
Grandma and Aunt Julia laughed heartily at the memory, and I ran off to find Uncle Roy. I wanted to see if he remembered that day. He did, of course, and laughed loudly.
“It’s funny now,” he said, rubbing the seat of his overalls, “but Ma had a lot of strength in that little arm of hers. I laughed out the other side of my mouth that day!”
The dusty old door stood against the barn wall. It had seen a lot of coming and going. If only it could tell stories too!
14
Pa and the Dishwater
While Grandma and I were visiting her old home, I was having fun exploring the farm I had heard about in so many stories. Uncle Roy didn’t mind my tagging along with him as he went about his work, and I wanted to see everything there was to see.
As we sat at the dinner table, I listened quietly as Grandma and Uncle Roy reminded each other of the good and bad times they remembered about the old house and farm.
“Well, Mabel,” said Uncle Roy, “I hear you’ve been telling stories about me and that old door.”
“Yes,” said Grandma, “I thought that was too good to keep.”
Uncle Roy laughed. “It was,” he admitted. “And if I had time, I could tell about a time you had some trouble with Ma and Pa too. But I have to get back to my work. I can’t sit here gossiping with you ladies.”
Uncle Roy left, and I turned to Grandma eagerly.
“What did you do that got you in trouble, Grandma? Do you remember?”
“Yes, I think I remember what Roy was talking about,” Grandma answered. “I didn’t get spanked for it, but Pa was sure disgusted.”
“Tell us about it, Mabel,” said Aunt Julia. “I’ll just start clearing the table while you talk.”
It had to do with dishes. I was still quite young, as I recall. Ma didn’t often leave me to do dishes alone, but occasionally she had something to do, and I managed the supper dishes by myself.
This evening was in the winter, and it got dark early. We had no kitchen sink back then, so we did the dishes on the table. When the dishes were done, the dishpan was carried out behind the chicken house and the water thrown away. Ma usually took care of this, not only because the dishpan was heavy for me, but also because I was afraid of the dark. Nothing could induce me to go past the back porch by myself after dark. The boys teased me, and Ma and Pa both tried to reason with me, but I was not moved. They could say what they liked. I was convinced that most anything would be lurking beyond the porch, waiting for me to come out.
So this evening I dawdled with the dishes as long as I dared. I thought perhaps if I took long enough, Pa or the boys would come in from the barn and I could persuade one of them to take the dishwater out for me. Of course I didn’t have much faith in getting the boys’ help. They would just call me “baby” and tell Ma I was acting like a foolish girl. But Pa was usually kindhearted; I thought I could probably get around him.
Ma finally realized that the job was taking unusually long and called to me. “Mabel, aren’t you through with those dishes yet? What’s taking you so long?”
“Yes, Ma,” I answered. “I’m almost through. I have to empty the water and wash the dish towels.”
“Well, hurry,” said Ma. “I need to try this dress on you before I can do much more.”
I knew my time was up. There was no sign of Pa, so I would have to brave it by myself. I opened the door, and picking up the dishpan, I held it close and backed out, pushing open that old screen door.
Oh, it was dark out there. I shivered and thought how far it was to the chicken house and back.
And I know how one is going to be this afternoon, Ma thought grimly. He’ll wish he’d never seen that front door.
The minister stayed for dinner, and we all enjoyed his visit. But when he and the Carter boys had left, Roy got a tanning from Ma he didn’t forget for some time!
Grandma and Aunt Julia laughed heartily at the memory, and I ran off to find Uncle Roy. I wanted to see if he remembered that day. He did, of course, and laughed loudly.
“It’s funny now,” he said, rubbing the seat of his overalls, “but Ma had a lot of strength in that little arm of hers. I laughed out the other side of my mouth that day!”
The dusty old door stood against the barn wall. It had seen a lot of coming and going. If only it could tell stories too!
14
Pa and the Dishwater
While Grandma and I were visiting her old home, I was having fun exploring the farm I had heard about in so many stories. Uncle Roy didn’t mind my tagging along with him as he went about his work, and I wanted to see everything there was to see.
As we sat at the dinner table, I listened quietly as Grandma and Uncle Roy reminded each other of the good and bad times they remembered about the old house and farm.
“Well, Mabel,” said Uncle Roy, “I hear you’ve been telling stories about me and that old door.”
“Yes,” said Grandma, “I thought that was too good to keep.”
Uncle Roy laughed. “It was,” he admitted. “And if I had time, I could tell about a time you had some trouble with Ma and Pa too. But I have to get back to my work. I can’t sit here gossiping with you ladies.”
Uncle Roy left, and I turned to Grandma eagerly.
“What did you do that got you in trouble, Grandma? Do you remember?”
“Yes, I think I remember what Roy was talking about,” Grandma answered. “I didn’t get spanked for it, but Pa was sure disgusted.”
“Tell us about it, Mabel,” said Aunt Julia. “I’ll just start clearing the table while you talk.”
It had to do with dishes. I was still quite young, as I recall. Ma didn’t often leave me to do dishes alone, but occasionally she had something to do, and I managed the supper dishes by myself.
This evening was in the winter, and it got dark early. We had no kitchen sink back then, so we did the dishes on the table. When the dishes were done, the dishpan was carried out behind the chicken house and the water thrown away. Ma usually took care of this, not only because the dishpan was heavy for me, but also because I was afraid of the dark. Nothing could induce me to go past the back porch by myself after dark. The boys teased me, and Ma and Pa both tried to reason with me, but I was not moved. They could say what they liked. I was convinced that most anything would be lurking beyond the porch, waiting for me to come out.
So this evening I dawdled with the dishes as long as I dared. I thought perhaps if I took long enough, Pa or the boys would come in from the barn and I could persuade one of them to take the dishwater out for me. Of course I didn’t have much faith in getting the boys’ help. They would just call me “baby” and tell Ma I was acting like a foolish girl. But Pa was usually kindhearted; I thought I could probably get around him.
Ma finally realized that the job was taking unusually long and called to me. “Mabel, aren’t you through with those dishes yet? What’s taking you so long?”
“Yes, Ma,” I answered. “I’m almost through. I have to empty the water and wash the dish towels.”
“Well, hurry,” said Ma. “I need to try this dress on you before I can do much more.”
I knew my time was up. There was no sign of Pa, so I would have to brave it by myself. I opened the door, and picking up the dishpan, I held it close and backed out, pushing open that old screen door.
Oh, it was dark out there. I shivered and thought how far it was to the chicken house and back.
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