that beautiful woman made bread pudding for dessert because this happens to be the handsome farmer’s son’s birthday.”
“That’s me,” Charlie said. “And it’s Michael’s birthday, too.”
“Is that right, Michael?” Aunt Mary asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
“He’s twelve just like I am,” Charlie said.
“Well, now,” Aunt Mary said, “isn’t that grand?”
We finished dinner and then Aunt Mary left the room and came back with a large cooking dish and set it on the table. It was filled with some kind of chunky glop.
“No cake and candles, huh?” I asked and everyone looked at me.
“Cake and candles?” they asked.
“You know,” I said. “Make a wish and blow out the candles.”
“Blow out what candles?” Pat asked.
“You put little candles in a cake,” I said. “Then you light them and make a wish and blow them out. And sing ‘Happy Birthday.’”
“Sing what?” Aunt Mary asked.
“Everyone does,” I said. “Everyone in . . .” Charlie gave me a hard kick under the table. He was barefoot but it still hurt.
“Vaudeville,” he said. “Everyone in vaudeville.”
“Sing it,” Pat said.
“No,” I said, “I couldn’t . . .”
“I never heard of anybody in vaudeville who didn’t love to sing,” Uncle Peter said. “Go ahead, Michael. We’d enjoy hearing it.”
So I sang it. Then we all sang it. Then we had the bread pudding. It was okay. It had a lot of sugar in it.
“Pa?” Sean asked while we were finishing up with our dessert. “What does the letter from the banker mean, exactly?”
“It means,” Uncle Peter said, “now we owe the money to Mr. Meyer. We’ll make the monthly mortgage payments to him.”
“But . . .” Aunt Mary began to say something and then she stopped. She looked worried. No, more than worried. She looked scared.
“But,” Uncle Peter said, seeming to read her mind, “we were behind in our payments to Mr. Braxton. He let us fall behind so we could buy seed and other necessities this spring. And when the crop comes in this fall, we would have paid him back.”
“Do you think Julius will . . .?” she asked.
“Let us stay behind in our payments all summer?” he asked. “No, I think he’ll demand all the back money we owe.”
“How much exactly?” Aunt Mary asked.
“One hundred and fifty dollars,” Uncle Peter said and I laughed. Was that all? Everyone looked at me.
“That’s not a lot, is it?” I asked.
“Maybe not if you’re in vaudeville,” Pat said, “but a lot for most folks. A job in town pays three dollars.”
“An hour?” I asked.
“A day,” Charlie said.
“Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry, Uncle Peter. I didn’t know.”
“That’s all right, son,” Uncle Peter said. “According to Mr. Braxton’s letter, the money isn’t due until a week from Monday.”
“A week from Monday!” Aunt Mary exclaimed.
“And if we don’t pay it by then,” he said, “we lose the farm.”
Chapter 13
How to Save the Farm
“We lose the farm!” Aunt Mary said and now she really looked scared.
“If we don’t pay the money,” Uncle Peter said.
“We lose the whole farm just because of that money?” Pat asked.
“Those are the terms of the loan agreement,” his father said. “Mr. Braxton was willing to bend the rules a little because he knew we would pay him back in the fall. Apparently, Mr. Meyer isn’t.”
“Oh, that Julius!” Aunt Mary said.
“So,” Uncle Peter said, “the family will just have to make an extra one hundred and fifty dollars in the next ten days.”
“But we can’t . . .” Aunt Mary began.
“But we shall,” Uncle Peter said and laughed. “Come on.”
He led us all outside. By now all the clouds had disappeared and it was starting to warm up.
“It’s
“That’s me,” Charlie said. “And it’s Michael’s birthday, too.”
“Is that right, Michael?” Aunt Mary asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
“He’s twelve just like I am,” Charlie said.
“Well, now,” Aunt Mary said, “isn’t that grand?”
We finished dinner and then Aunt Mary left the room and came back with a large cooking dish and set it on the table. It was filled with some kind of chunky glop.
“No cake and candles, huh?” I asked and everyone looked at me.
“Cake and candles?” they asked.
“You know,” I said. “Make a wish and blow out the candles.”
“Blow out what candles?” Pat asked.
“You put little candles in a cake,” I said. “Then you light them and make a wish and blow them out. And sing ‘Happy Birthday.’”
“Sing what?” Aunt Mary asked.
“Everyone does,” I said. “Everyone in . . .” Charlie gave me a hard kick under the table. He was barefoot but it still hurt.
“Vaudeville,” he said. “Everyone in vaudeville.”
“Sing it,” Pat said.
“No,” I said, “I couldn’t . . .”
“I never heard of anybody in vaudeville who didn’t love to sing,” Uncle Peter said. “Go ahead, Michael. We’d enjoy hearing it.”
So I sang it. Then we all sang it. Then we had the bread pudding. It was okay. It had a lot of sugar in it.
“Pa?” Sean asked while we were finishing up with our dessert. “What does the letter from the banker mean, exactly?”
“It means,” Uncle Peter said, “now we owe the money to Mr. Meyer. We’ll make the monthly mortgage payments to him.”
“But . . .” Aunt Mary began to say something and then she stopped. She looked worried. No, more than worried. She looked scared.
“But,” Uncle Peter said, seeming to read her mind, “we were behind in our payments to Mr. Braxton. He let us fall behind so we could buy seed and other necessities this spring. And when the crop comes in this fall, we would have paid him back.”
“Do you think Julius will . . .?” she asked.
“Let us stay behind in our payments all summer?” he asked. “No, I think he’ll demand all the back money we owe.”
“How much exactly?” Aunt Mary asked.
“One hundred and fifty dollars,” Uncle Peter said and I laughed. Was that all? Everyone looked at me.
“That’s not a lot, is it?” I asked.
“Maybe not if you’re in vaudeville,” Pat said, “but a lot for most folks. A job in town pays three dollars.”
“An hour?” I asked.
“A day,” Charlie said.
“Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry, Uncle Peter. I didn’t know.”
“That’s all right, son,” Uncle Peter said. “According to Mr. Braxton’s letter, the money isn’t due until a week from Monday.”
“A week from Monday!” Aunt Mary exclaimed.
“And if we don’t pay it by then,” he said, “we lose the farm.”
Chapter 13
How to Save the Farm
“We lose the farm!” Aunt Mary said and now she really looked scared.
“If we don’t pay the money,” Uncle Peter said.
“We lose the whole farm just because of that money?” Pat asked.
“Those are the terms of the loan agreement,” his father said. “Mr. Braxton was willing to bend the rules a little because he knew we would pay him back in the fall. Apparently, Mr. Meyer isn’t.”
“Oh, that Julius!” Aunt Mary said.
“So,” Uncle Peter said, “the family will just have to make an extra one hundred and fifty dollars in the next ten days.”
“But we can’t . . .” Aunt Mary began.
“But we shall,” Uncle Peter said and laughed. “Come on.”
He led us all outside. By now all the clouds had disappeared and it was starting to warm up.
“It’s
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