Anna on the Farm (3 page)

"Yes, Theodore," Aunt Aggie says. "This is my niece, Anna. Come inside and meet her properly."

Anna stares at Theodore's scowling face. His thick, straight hair is so blond it's white. A towhead, Father would call him. His skin is tan, either from dirt or the sun—Anna isn't sure which. His overalls are faded and his bare feet are muddy. A country bumpkin, Mother would call him.

"Anna, this is Uncle George's nephew Theodore," Aunt Aggie says. "He's come to stay with us for a while."

Anna says hello, but her mouth is too stiff with dislike to smile. No one told her she'd have to share her aunt and uncle with a mean boy.

Theodore doesn't smile, either. It's clear he isn't any happier to see Anna than she is to see him.

"Father didn't tell me there was a boy living here," Anna says to Aunt Aggie.

Her aunt claps her hand to her forehead in dismay. "I do believe I forgot to tell Ira," she says. "I meant to, but the subject changed, and I never got around to it."

Aunt Aggie sighs. "Must mean I'm getting old and losing my memory." She pours a glass of lemonade for Theodore.

"Anna is my brother's daughter," she tells him. "You two aren't really related, but I hope you'll think of each other as cousins."

Neither Anna nor Theodore says a word. Anna is glad Theodore isn't her real cousin. She'd hate to be related to a boy as rude and dirty as he is.

For a long time the only sound is the clink of ice cubes in Anna and Theodore's lemonade. When their glasses are empty, Aunt Aggie sends them outdoors to play.

The last time Anna visited, Uncle George made a swing for her in the big oak tree by the house. She runs toward it, but Theodore grabs the swing first. "City girl," he says. "Ain't you scared you'll get your pretty dress dirty?"

Anna sticks out her tongue. Theodore jumps from the swing, snatches Anna's fancy hair ribbon, and runs lickety-split across the yard.

Anna is furious. Charlie is the only boy who can steal Anna's ribbons and get away with it. She chases Theodore around the barn twice, but she cannot catch him.

Then Theodore scrambles up into an apple tree. He thinks he's safe, but Anna climbs after him. She doesn't stop, not even when her dress catches on a branch and tears. When she and Theodore can climb no higher, they glare at each other.

"Give me my bow," Anna says.

Theodore leans out of the tree and drops the bow. It flutters through the air like a big white butterfly and lands at the end of a branch where Anna cannot reach it.

"You're nothing but a stupid country bumpkin," Anna tells Theodore.

"You're nothing but a stuck-up city slicker," says Theodore.

"I am not!"

"You are, too!"

"Am not!"

"Are!"

Theodore clenches his fists as if he means to hit Anna. "Why don't you go back to Baltimore, where you belong?"

Anna makes the worst face she can think of. "Why don't you go back to your mother and father—or did they send you here to get rid of you?"

Theodore's face turns bright red and he takes a wild

swing at Anna. She backs away, catching her dress on another branch. Just as Theodore is about to shove Anna out of the tree, Aunt Aggie comes outside with a basket in her hand.

"Anna and Theodore," she calls, "come down from that tree and shell these peas for supper."

"Last one to the porch is a stuck-up city slicker!" Theodore yells.

Before Anna knows what he's up to, Theodore jumps out of the tree and runs across the grass. By the time Anna climbs down, Theodore is sitting on the porch sneering at her.

"City slicker," he whispers so Aunt Aggie won't hear.

But Aunt Aggie isn't paying any attention to Theodore. It's Anna she's staring at. "Oh, my word," Aunt Aggie says. "You haven't been here an hour and look at your dress. It's torn and dirty. What will your mother say?"

Anna swallows hard. Mother will be very cross. She spent hours making Anna's pretty lacy dress, and now it's ruined.

"And your hair ribbon," Aunt Aggie says. "What happened to it?"

Anna wants to say Theodore took it and threw it in the tree, but she hates tattletales. She hangs her head and says nothing. She wishes she were back home in Baltimore with all the other city slickers, sitting on the steps and sweating in the hot sun.

Aunt Aggie puts her hand on Anna's shoulder. "Come inside, Anna," she says softly. "I can wash and mend your dress so it will look as good as new."

Anna follows Aunt Aggie upstairs to the room where she always sleeps when she visits the farm. The wallpaper is printed with tiny blue flowers. The bed is made of carved oak. There's a matching bureau and washstand. In one corner is a big wardrobe. Aunt Aggie has already hung Anna's dresses there. On the table by the bed is a kerosene lamp with a pink glass shade. From the window, Anna can see Uncle George's rows of corn blowing in the breeze.

"What's a city slicker?" Anna asks her aunt.

"A city slicker?" Aunt Aggie laughs. "Why, that's a person from the big city who thinks country people are dumb."

"Am I a city slicker?" Anna asks.

"Of course not!" Aunt Aggie takes a long look at Anna. "Did Theodore put that notion in your head?"

Anna toys with a strand of her hair. "I was just wondering," she says.

Aunt Aggie turns Anna around so she can unbutton the row of tiny buttons on the back of Anna's dress. "Such beautiful sewing," she says as she slips Anna's dress off. "I hope I can mend it properly."

Anna reaches for another dress, but Aunt Aggie shakes her head. "I have a better idea," she says. "I'll be back in a moment."

While she waits for her aunt to return, Anna leans on the window sill and looks out. Uncle George and his dog are coming up the dusty road. From here, he looks like a toy farmer in the garden under a Christmas tree.

"What do you think of these, Anna?" Aunt Aggie stands in the doorway holding up a pair of overalls, a shirt, and a straw hat. "They're too small for Theodore, but I bet they'd fit you just right!"

"But those are boys' clothes," Anna says.

Aunt Aggie shakes her head. "No reason a girl can't wear overalls." She winks at Anna. "Just think, you won't be tearing any more of those lovely dresses."

Slowly, Anna strips off her slip, fancy shoes, and hot stockings. When she's down to her drawers and camisole, she puts on the shirt, soft from many washings. Then she pulls on the overalls, stepping into each leg carefully. She feels very daring. Rosa and Beatrice would be shocked to see Anna in boys' clothes. Mother would have apoplexy.

Aunt Aggie shows Anna how to buckle the overall straps and hands her the straw hat.

"What about my shoes?" Anna asks.

"Shoes?" Aunt Aggie chuckles. "Pshaw, you don't need shoes in the country, Anna."

Anna studies her reflection in the wardrobe's mirrored door. Except for her long brown hair, she looks like a country boy. Anna grins at her new self, shoves her hands in her pockets, and follows Aunt Aggie downstairs. Before this week is over, Anna promises herself to show Theodore a thing or two about city slickers.

W
HEN
T
HEODORE SEES
A
NNA WEARING HIS OVERALLS,
he drops the peas he's shelling. "Those are mine," he says crossly.

Anna sits down beside him on the porch and begins to shell peas. Her fingers shake a little. She's half afraid Theodore might want his overalls back. "They're too small for you," Anna says. "So Aunt Aggie gave them to me. She said—"

"Girls shouldn't wear boys' clothes," Theodore interrupts. "You look dumb and ugly in them."

Anna stares at Theodore's scowling face. No one has ever called her dumb and ugly before. Not even Rosa. Her cheeks burn with anger and her eyes sting with tears. She's tempted to throw the whole bowl of peas at Theodore, but she knows Aunt Aggie would be cross if she did that.

Just as Anna opens her mouth to tell Theodore he's pretty dumb and ugly himself, Aunt Aggie looks out the kitchen door. "How are those peas coming?" she calls. "I need to cook them for supper."

For a while neither Anna nor Theodore says a word. The peas ping into Aunt Aggie's tin bowl. Chickens cluck as they scratch in the dust. Bees buzz in the hollyhocks growing beside the porch. Far away the train whistle blows.

Though Anna doesn't tell Theodore, she races him to see who can shell the fastest. She's pretty sure her fingers are quicker than his. But, then, maybe Theodore isn't racing.

After supper, everyone sits on the front porch and watches the sun set. It's lovely to see so much sky, Anna thinks. No tall buildings or chimneys block the view. The evening air is sweet with the smell of honeysuckle growing wild on the fence. A mockingbird sings in the pear tree.

As the light fades from the sky, Aunt Aggie points at the fireflies sparkling in the grass. "They look like tiny fairies carrying lanterns, flying about and searching for something they've lost," she says.

Anna looks at her aunt. "Do you believe in fairies?"

Theodore snorts, but Aunt Aggie shrugs. "When I was your age I believed in them."

"What about now?"

Uncle George chuckles. "There's no telling what odd notions Aggie has in that little head of hers."

Aunt Aggie pats Anna's hand. "I haven't seen a fairy yet," she admits, "but I don't totally discount the idea."

Anna leans back in her big rocking chair and smiles. "Me, neither," she says, prompting another snort from Theodore.

"Can I have a jar so I can catch me some fireflies?" he asks Aunt Aggie.

"Only if you promise to let them go before you come inside," Aunt Aggie says. Turning to Anna, she adds, "Would you like to catch fireflies, too?"

"I reckon she's scared of bugs," Theodore says. "Most girls are."

Anna remembers fireflies from other visits to the farm. She and Father caught a whole jarful last summer. "Ha," she says, "I bet I can catch more than you."

"We'll see about that," Theodore says.

Aunt Aggie goes inside and comes back with two Mason jars. "I punched holes in the lids when Anna was here last summer," she tells Theodore.

Anna runs across the lawn ahead of Theodore. The grass is already damp with dew. It feels delicious under her bare feet. She pulls up a handful of clover and drops it into her jar so the fireflies will feel at home.

Anna chases the fireflies and catches them carefully, snaring them in the air. She holds them in her hand for a moment, her fingers closed loosely around them, and enjoys the tickly feel of their feet on her palms. Then she drops them one by one into the jar until it's filled with twinkly fairy lights.

Nearby, Theodore fills his jar. Holding it up, he calls to Uncle George. "Who's got the most? Me or her?"

Uncle George squints hard. "They look exactly the same to me," he says.

Anna smiles. Even though she'd hoped Uncle George would say she'd caught more fireflies than Theodore, she knows Father would have said exactly the same thing.

"Let the poor things go now," Aunt Aggie calls, "and come to bed."

Anna hesitates. She wants to take the jar to her room. The fireflies would keep the night from being so dark. Shielding the jar to hide the light, she walks slowly toward the house.

"Hey," Theodore yells, "you can't take them inside. Didn't you hear what Aunt Aggie said?"

Anna notices Theodore hasn't freed his fireflies, either. "I'll let mine go when you let yours go," she says.

"I bet mine fly higher than yours," Theodore says.

Standing side by side, Anna and Theodore unscrew the tops from their jars. Out stream the fireflies, mixing with each other as they escape into the night. Neither Anna nor Theodore can tell whose fireflies fly higher.

Aunt Aggie calls again from the porch. Anna and Theodore race each other into the house. They reach

the door at the same time and bump into each other so hard they stumble into the hall.

Uncle George grabs the straps of Theodore's overalls and pulls him aside. "Where are your manners, Theodore?" he asks. "A gentleman always lets a lady go first."

Theodore scowls. "Anna ain't no lady," he mutters, "and I ain't no gentleman."