GRANDMA'S ATTIC SERIES (6 page)

It was about three feet long and a foot and a half high.

"If it's worth its weight in anything at all, you'll have a fortune," Ma said. "Did you hear a rattle in there?"

"No," Reuben replied. "It didn't move. It feels like a solid piece of iron to me."

"Part of the floor came up when we moved it," Roy put in. "I think Mr. Shaw's pa built the barn around it."

"Well, you boys can figure how you're going to get it open while you're working today. Pa wants you to come help with the fence right away."

"Yes, ma'am," Reuben answered. "We'll work on it after dinner."

The boys went out to the field, and Ma and I went back to the kitchen.

"What do you think is in there, Ma?" I asked.

"I wouldn't have any idea. Usually folks keep things like quilts, or old photographs, or books, that sort of thing it them. I can't imagine what could be that heavy. I guess we'll have to wait until the boys get it open."

The rest of the morning I hung around the porch and watched the trunk. One time Ma called to me from the kitchen door. "Haven't you anything better to than watch that piece of junk? You're not going to know one thing more than you do now until it's opened."

She pushed the door out with her foot and handed me a pan. "As long as you're sitting there, you can at least snap these beans for dinner. I know how you feel. I'm anxious to know what's in there too."

The morning passed slowly, but finally Pa and the boys came in from the field. Reuben stopped at the barn and picked up a crowbar.

"Come and eat dinner first, boys," Ma said. "If I'm not mistaken, you'll need all the strength you can get to pry that open."

Ma wasn't mistaken. Try as they would, the boys were not able to open the trunk. Red-faced and breathless, they left to join Pa in the field.

"Oh, dear, we're never going to see what's in there," I said.

"I'm sure we will," Ma replied. "Pa will help them this evening. They'll find some way to open it."

I spent the afternoon dreaming about all the wonderful things the trunk might hold and hoping that some of them might come to me. When supper was over, Pa and the boys tackled the job again. The lid was rusted shut, and there seemed to be no place to get the
crowbar under it. Finally, after much whacking and pounding, it began to look as though it might move.

"Let's give it another try," Pa said. They all leaned hard on the crowbar, and the lid cracked open. We crowded up close as Reuben pushed up the creaky top to reveal the contents.

"Nails?" he said.

Pa looked over Reuben's shoulder and nodded his head. "Nails!"

"Nails!" Roy yelped. "Is that whole trunk full of rusty old nails?"

It certainly looked that way. The nails were pitted and red and stuck together with rust. Reuben pushed his hand in as far as it would go and reported more of the same near the bottom.

"Seems to me I remember Bert Shaw saying that his father was a blacksmith before he bought the farm," Pa said. "This must be all that's left of the smithy. I don't know what you can do with them, boys. I don't think there's much call for rusty nails."

"That was an awful lot of work for something as useless as this," Reuben sighed.

"Besides, we lost fifty cents on it," Roy added.

"Seems to me there's something in the Bible about laying up treasures where moth and rust will not corrupt," Ma said. "Maybe this is a good example to remind us."

"I guess so," Reuben said. "But I'd just as soon someone else's fifty cents had paid for it."

"Let's haul the thing out to the barn. Maybe the peddler will buy them when he comes by again," Pa suggested.'

The boys brightened up a little at that thought, and the trunk was moved to the barn. I don't remember whether the peddler took it or not, but I'm sure the boys didn't buy anything sight unseen again.

Would you set the table for me, please?" Grandma asked as she was getting dinner ready.

"I don't want to," I replied.

Grandma looked at me in surprise. "You what?"

"I don't want to," I said, a little less bravely this time.

"I don't believe I asked if you wanted to. I asked if you would."

While I placed the knives and forks around the table, I muttered, "Molly Stone never has to do anything she doesn't want to do."

Grandma looked at me thoughtfully. "I'm not sure that's always true. Having 'stuff' to do makes you part of the family. You'd be unhappy if you never had to work."

I'd like to try it sometime, I thought.

Grandma seemed to have read my mind, for suddenly she laughed. "I wanted to try that once. I thought I was expected to do entirely too much around home, and that if didn't have all my chores to do, I'd be perfectly happy." "Did your mother let you try it?"

"Yes, she did," Grandma replied, "and I'll tell you how it turned out after dinner."

When we had finished the dishes, Grandma sat down with her sewing, and I pulled my chair up beside her.

It was in the summer, the summer I was nine years old. Ma was very busy taking care of the garden, canning the early vegetables, and cooking for the hired men Pa had working on the farm. My job was to make the beds, help with the dishes, sweep the floors and dust, feed the chickens, and bring the cows in from the pasture in the evening.

Actually those chores didn't take a lot of time if I got right at them, but I grumbled and fussed until my work seemed to use up most of the day. One morning Ma became impatient with my complaining.

' "You seem to forget that you're not the only one in the family who has work to do," she reminded me. "Pa and the boys aren't out in the fields playing ball, you know. Where would you be if no one in the family did any work for you?"

"I'd probably get along fine," I replied grumpily. "I could take care of myself if I didn't have all these other jobs to do."

Ma eyed me carefully for a moment. "All right. We'll try it and see. You finish up your work for today, and beginning tomorrow morning, you may do whatever you like. The rest of us will take over your chores."

"Do you really mean it, Ma?" I exclaimed. "I don't have to do anything except what I want to do?"

"I mean it. But remember, no one will do anything for you, either. That will be your responsibility."

I couldn't believe my good fortune, to actually be free to spend my time in any way I chose. I began to plan all the things I would do in the glorious days ahead.

That night at supper, Pa regarded me thoughtfully. "I hear you're going to be a lady of independence."

"What does that mean, Pa?" I asked.

"It means that you are going to take care of yourself and be your own boss."

I nodded happily. "That's right. Ma said I could do whatever I want—and no chores to finish first!"

Roy opened his mouth to say something, but a look from Pa stopped him.

The following morning I awakened to the sound of voices in the kitchen. For a moment I wondered why Ma had not called me. Then I remembered—this was my day! I could sleep half the morning if I wanted to! Suddenly I didn't want to. The whole exciting day stretched before me, and I needed to get an early start.

I jumped out of bed and reached for my clothes. They were not there! The dress and apron I had taken off the night before lay on the floor where I had dropped them, but there were no clean things on the chair where Ma always placed them. I started to call her to come and help me, then decided against it. I could certainly get my own clothes out.

I dressed as quickly as I could and ran to the kitchen. To my surprise, the table was cleared, and Ma was doing the dishes.

"Where is my breakfast?" I asked.

Ma didn't turn around. "That's your responsibility. Yoi go ahead and get what you want."

That slowed me down a little. I hadn't counted on having to fix my meals. I could see that the family had eaten pancakes and ham and eggs, but that was hard for me to fix, especially since the pancake batter seemed to be all gone. I finally managed to cut a piece of bread and put jam on it. The heavy milk pitcher was too much for me to handle. Milk spilled out on the table and floor.

"That's too bad," Ma said. "You know where the mop and bucket are, don't you?"

"Aren't you going to help me?"

"Why, no. You can take care of yourself."

When I had cleaned up the mess as best I could, I sat down at the table. A piece of bread and jam and no one to eat with seemed a poor way to start the day.

"I sure don't like to eat alone," I muttered.

"I'm sorry," Ma said. "But I thought since you had no chores today, you'd rather sleep in than get up when we did."

This reminder of the good times ahead brightened my outlook somewhat, so I finished quickly and hurried outside. The day was bright and beautiful, and I skipped happily across the yard. Immediately I was surrounded by chickens.

"Oh, bother! You'll just have to wait. Ma will feed you as soon as she has time."

It seemed to me that they watched reproachfully as I ran on toward the brook. It won't hurt 'em to wait a few minutes, I thought. This is my day.

For a while I was happy, picking flowers and wading in the brook. I made a daisy chain to hang around my neck, then lay on my stomach to see myself in the water.

After what seemed like a long time, I looked up at the sun and saw that it was still only the middle of the morning. Time didn't go so fast when there was no one to play with. I thought of Ma doing the dishes alone and making all the beds, and began to feel a little bit guilty.

But after all, I thought, she did say I could do what I wanted to. And that's what I was doing.

That morning went slower than any I had ever known. was determined not to miss the dinner bell, so when it seemed close to noon, I started back to the house. I was late, but another surprise awaited me.

The table was set for dinner, but at my place there was nothing but bread crumbs and a knife with jam on it!

Ma turned and smiled at me. "Did you have a nice morning?"

"Yes, ma'am. But don't I get to eat with you this noon?" "Oh my, yes," Ma replied. "Just clear away your breakfast things and set your place."

I did so, but my ideas about freedom were beginning to change.

"Shall I help put the food on?" I asked.

Ma looked surprised. "No, thank you. Just sit down, and we'll be ready to eat in a few minutes."

I sat down at the table and watched Ma dish up the food Something was just not right about this arrangement, and it made me feel uneasy. But I decided not to let the boys know how disappointing it was. When they and Pa came in for dinner, I attempted to look happier than I felt.

"Well," Pa boomed as he sat down at the table. "Do we have a visitor here today?"

"I'm not a visitor, Pa," I said. "I live here!"

"Of course. How could I forget that?"

"I'd like to forget it sometimes," Roy added. "I could get along real well without her for a while."

I looked at Ma quickly, afraid that she might decide to send me away so Roy could try it out, but she was giving him a disapproving look, and he bowed his head for prayer. Pa prayed, as usual, for the Lord to bless the food and the hands that prepared it. It occurred to me that I hadn't helped, so the blessing was not for me.

"What are you planning to do with your afternoon?" Pa asked as he began to eat.

"I don't know exactly ... but I'll have fun," I added quickly.

After dinner I wandered out to the porch and sat on the edge, swinging my feet. The rattle of dishes reminded me that mine would probably not be done unless I took care of it. When Ma finished and left the kitchen, I crept to the door to look. Sure enough, there was my cup and plate. The rest of the table was cleared.

That's not fair! I thought. Ma did the boys' dishes. She could have done mine too.

"And you could have helped her!" a little voice inside me said. "She did the boys' dishes, because they are out in the field working."

As quietly as I could, I rinsed off my dishes and brushed the crumbs from the table. I felt ashamed that I was the only one in the family who hadn't done anything all day. Even our dog, Pep, had taken the cows to the field that morning. Slowly I walked to my room to think things over. The unmade bed and the clothes on the floor looked worse than they had when I left them.

I picked up my clothes and made the bed, then sat down on the edge and looked around the room. Why had I thought that having no chores to do would be so wonderful? How had I planned to spend the time?

I picked up a mail-order catalog and flipped over a few pages, then put it down. Emily sat in the chair watching me, her sober, shoe-button, doll eyes inviting me to play. But I didn't feel like it. The clock in the parlor struck. Only one hour had passed since dinnertime!

I sighed and walked to the window. Ma was in the garden picking vegetables for supper. Maybe she would let me help her get them ready.

"Ma, I'm tired of being a lady of independence. Could I shell the peas for you?"

"Are you sure you want to? What about your day off?"

"I think I've had enough of it. I can't think of anything I want to do."