coffee, then grinned. “Lucky for me, each and every one of them is older than Henry Ford himself. They evidently break down on a regular basis.”
“Well, then, don’t fix them
too
good!” Lois said.
They all laughed. There would be no chance of Dad not knocking himself out to get each and every clunker up and running. “Browns always do their best” was the family motto.
“So that’s my news.” He tousled Lois’ hair.
“Well, I have some swell news of my own!” Lois told him all about Aunt Eunice and the fair and the Sky Ride. “But I wish I were going with you and Mom,” she finished.
“Ah, my girl.” Dad grabbed her hands. “Never look a gift horse in the mouth. You go and chew up every bit of grand adventure that day has to offer.”
Lois pictured herself traipsing at Aunt Eunice’s side all over the fairgrounds, listening to her complain about this, that, and the other thing. How many times would she scold Lois for not staying close? How many times would she cluck her tongue in disapproval of something Mom and Dad had done? How many times would they have to sit and rest because Aunt Eunice’s ankles had puffed out over her shoes, like a pair of toasted marshmallows? Lois sighed. But at least she would get to go. Not many other children in Downers Grove would be that lucky. Dad was right. Putting up with Aunt Eunice
was
a small price to pay for seeing the World’s Fair.
MISS KANAGAWA
The fair opens tomorrow and Mr. Beard is just now bringing in the last two dolls. Both cloth. One is dressed as a Red Cross worker and one as a character named Alice in Wonderland.
We are Madame Alexander dolls
, the Red Cross doll announces.
The best is saved for the last
, her friend adds.
Madame Alexander dolls indeed! Imagine being so full ofoneself! Humph. I can’t help feeling like the cat that got the cream, however, because when Mr. Beard finished arranging us all, I was given the best spot in the exhibit: apart from the others, as is only proper, with a single spotlight showing off my
gofun
face, my graceful hands, and, of course, my elegant kimono. Mr. Beard’s gangly son hand-lettered the placards accompanying each display. He read aloud what he had written for mine: “Madame Ambassador. Admire here a doll handmade by a master Japanese doll-maker, dressed in exquisite silk and crowned with a head of genuine human hair. This is the most valuable doll in the collection. Please do not touch.”
Madame Ambassador!
The words thrill me. At long last, I will be able to serve again as I was originally intended, hands extended in friendship to the people of America.
I certainly hope my visitors will pay close attention to those last, very important four words on my calling card: “Please do not touch.”
May
Fair day finally arrived, and Aunt Eunice along with it. Dad was already off to work at Hansen’s, but he’d left a note on Lois’ dresser. When she opened it to read what he’d written, a quarter fell out. She picked up the coin and held it in her palm. Twenty-five cents! It felt heavy and full of promise. She read Dad’s words: “For your grand adventure.”
Her wish had come true! Here was exactly the right amount to ride on the rocket cars! Her hands trembledwith excitement as she tied the quarter in the corner of her best hanky, the one with Amelia’s
Canary
on it, so she wouldn’t lose it. She double-checked the knot five times before they left the house. And she held it tight as she jounced along on the train, next to Aunt Eunice—whose head was back, mouth open in sleep—the whole way to Chicago.
Lois had the best father in the whole world. She thought about that as she fingered the knotted handkerchief. Mom used to say Lois and Dad were cut with the same cookie cutter. Full of big dreams and starry notions. He knew how much she wanted to fly across the fairgrounds in one of those double-decker rocket cars, looking down on the other fairgoers, who
would
look like cabbage worms,
“Well, then, don’t fix them
too
good!” Lois said.
They all laughed. There would be no chance of Dad not knocking himself out to get each and every clunker up and running. “Browns always do their best” was the family motto.
“So that’s my news.” He tousled Lois’ hair.
“Well, I have some swell news of my own!” Lois told him all about Aunt Eunice and the fair and the Sky Ride. “But I wish I were going with you and Mom,” she finished.
“Ah, my girl.” Dad grabbed her hands. “Never look a gift horse in the mouth. You go and chew up every bit of grand adventure that day has to offer.”
Lois pictured herself traipsing at Aunt Eunice’s side all over the fairgrounds, listening to her complain about this, that, and the other thing. How many times would she scold Lois for not staying close? How many times would she cluck her tongue in disapproval of something Mom and Dad had done? How many times would they have to sit and rest because Aunt Eunice’s ankles had puffed out over her shoes, like a pair of toasted marshmallows? Lois sighed. But at least she would get to go. Not many other children in Downers Grove would be that lucky. Dad was right. Putting up with Aunt Eunice
was
a small price to pay for seeing the World’s Fair.
MISS KANAGAWA
The fair opens tomorrow and Mr. Beard is just now bringing in the last two dolls. Both cloth. One is dressed as a Red Cross worker and one as a character named Alice in Wonderland.
We are Madame Alexander dolls
, the Red Cross doll announces.
The best is saved for the last
, her friend adds.
Madame Alexander dolls indeed! Imagine being so full ofoneself! Humph. I can’t help feeling like the cat that got the cream, however, because when Mr. Beard finished arranging us all, I was given the best spot in the exhibit: apart from the others, as is only proper, with a single spotlight showing off my
gofun
face, my graceful hands, and, of course, my elegant kimono. Mr. Beard’s gangly son hand-lettered the placards accompanying each display. He read aloud what he had written for mine: “Madame Ambassador. Admire here a doll handmade by a master Japanese doll-maker, dressed in exquisite silk and crowned with a head of genuine human hair. This is the most valuable doll in the collection. Please do not touch.”
Madame Ambassador!
The words thrill me. At long last, I will be able to serve again as I was originally intended, hands extended in friendship to the people of America.
I certainly hope my visitors will pay close attention to those last, very important four words on my calling card: “Please do not touch.”
May
Fair day finally arrived, and Aunt Eunice along with it. Dad was already off to work at Hansen’s, but he’d left a note on Lois’ dresser. When she opened it to read what he’d written, a quarter fell out. She picked up the coin and held it in her palm. Twenty-five cents! It felt heavy and full of promise. She read Dad’s words: “For your grand adventure.”
Her wish had come true! Here was exactly the right amount to ride on the rocket cars! Her hands trembledwith excitement as she tied the quarter in the corner of her best hanky, the one with Amelia’s
Canary
on it, so she wouldn’t lose it. She double-checked the knot five times before they left the house. And she held it tight as she jounced along on the train, next to Aunt Eunice—whose head was back, mouth open in sleep—the whole way to Chicago.
Lois had the best father in the whole world. She thought about that as she fingered the knotted handkerchief. Mom used to say Lois and Dad were cut with the same cookie cutter. Full of big dreams and starry notions. He knew how much she wanted to fly across the fairgrounds in one of those double-decker rocket cars, looking down on the other fairgoers, who
would
look like cabbage worms,
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