The Thanksgiving Treasure by Gail Rock Page B

I win?” he asked. “I won’t be here when you grow up.”
    â€œDon’t sit so stiffly. Relax!”
    â€œI told you, I don’t want you to draw my picture!”
    â€œNow smile!”
    â€œSmile?” he said. “What have I got to smile about? I’ve got a lot of hard work here, and nobody to help me. People cheat me, you come around pestering me. What have I got to smile about?”
    â€œMy father didn’t cheat you!” I said, annoyed.
    â€œNever mind about your father,” he said, and hid his face behind his paper again.
    â€œI can’t see your face,” I complained.
    â€œGo on home. I got things to do!”
    â€œJust let me finish this. I want to get the lines in your face right.” I reached forward and pulled the newspaper away.
    â€œLines!” he said. “Wrinkles, you mean!”
    â€œWell, wrinkles are interesting. My grandma has wrinkles. She says they’re like a map … that all the things you’ve done in your life show on your face. I don’t have any wrinkles because I haven’t done anything yet.” I looked at him more closely. “Next time I’ll bring my paints. You have such blue eyes.”
    â€œHuh!” he said, raising the newspaper again. “Blue eyes!”
    â€œPut down that newspaper, please.”
    â€œBoy, you’re a bossy kid!” he said. “You remind me of a bossy little girl I once knew. She lived on the next farm when I was a boy. Pearlie Blake was her name. You’re a lot like Pearlie.”
    He put his paper down and seemed to be thinking back for a moment.
    â€œShe was always bossing me around and getting both of us in trouble. I remember one time she was sassing her ma at the dinner table, and her ma sent her up to her room without any dessert. So Pearlie snitched a big plum out of the kitchen on the way up to her room. Then a few minutes later I come by outside her window and whistled up at her, and she was going to climb out the window. So she put the big plum in her mouth so she could use both hands to raise the window, and she just got her head out and bam! Down come the window right on her neck and she was stuck. She couldn’t get no leverage to push the window up from inside, and she couldn’t yell because the plum was stuck in her mouth.”
    He started to cackle at that, and I laughed too. It was the first time I had ever seen him even smile, let alone laugh.
    â€œI about died laughing,” he went on. “I finally went and got her ma, and she let her loose and give her a good spanking for it.” He looked over at me. “So you better watch your step, sister.”
    â€œWhat happened to Pearlie?” I asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” he said, sadly. “She moved away. She’d be old now, like me. Maybe she’s dead.”
    He seemed to be lost in his memories, and didn’t say any more, and neither did I. I kept on drawing, and he picked up his old concertina and began to play a sad little song I had never heard before. When he finished, he looked over at me and seemed to remember where he was. Before he could tell me to get out, I jumped up and showed him the sketch of him I had just done.
    â€œHow do you like it?”
    â€œUgly,” he said.
    â€œWould you like to have it?”
    â€œWhat would I want with that?” he asked. “Go on home, you’re wasting my time.”
    â€œOK, I’m going …”
    â€œAnd don’t forget to put Treasure in the barn and make sure she’s got her feed …”
    â€œI know, I know, I’ll do it.”
    â€œWell, see that you don’t forget … Pearlie!” he said.
    As he went to open the door, I left the sketch of him behind on the kitchen table, where he’d be sure to find it.
    The next time I was in the house, I saw the sketch hanging on the wall, all pasted down on a piece of cardboard, to keep it from getting