GRANDMA'S ATTIC SERIES (9 page)

"We're going to write a story," Sarah Jane replied. "A story about a young lady who lives in the city."

Ma laughed. "You two don't know much about ladies who live in the city, do you?"

"No," Sarah Jane said, "but we will when we finish reading her . Sarah Jane stopped abruptly and seemed confused.

Ma looked at us closely. "You're not reading someone else's letters, are you? That wouldn't be right, you know."

"Oh, no," I said quickly. "We're not going to read anyone's letters."

"Good," Ma replied. "I wouldn't like to think that you would pry into someone's personal affairs."

Ma left the kitchen, and Sarah Jane and I looked at each other.

"Well, it isn't a letter," I said.

"No," Sarah Jane agreed. "Besides, finders keepers, losers weepers. I found it, so it belongs to me. What I do with that diary is my business."

I continued to eat my breakfast. I didn't feel good about what we were going to do, but I didn't want Sarah Jane to be upset with me, either.

"Hurry up, Mabel," Sarah Jane urged. "Can't you eat any faster than that?"

Finally I made up my mind. I couldn't do something I felt was wrong, even to please my best friend.

"Listen, Sarah Jane, maybe that diary isn't a letter, but I don't think your cousin wrote it for anyone else to see. Do you think it would really be honest for us to read it?"

Sarah Jane turned the little book over in her hands. "No, I guess it wouldn't. It is a personal affair, isn't it?"

I nodded, relieved that she had decided that way. Then a thought occurred to me. "What about the stuff you've already looked at?"

"It wasn't very interesting," Sarah Jane confessed. "I saw one day, and it said she washed her hair and had ice cream."

I considered that news for a moment. "We do more exciting things than that right here. How about the day we dressed up the pig and scared Mrs. Carter into hysterics?"

Sarah Jane laughed. "That's right. That was more exciting. But I don't think anyone will buy that story, because everyone already knows it. Maybe we should just take our dolls down to the creek and have a tea party. We might think of another story later." '

I agreed, and that ended our story-writing career. I don't think we ever did get back to it. But we learned that an idea for a story shouldn't come from someone else's private business.

The parlor in Grandma's old home was a special room, saved for company. It wasn't often used by the family, so there were rules for it that didn't apply to the rest of the house. One was, "We don't eat in the parlor."

I knew this rule and had not thought of disobeying it. But one day as I munched on a cookie in the kitchen, I happened to think of a picture in the photograph album that I wanted to see. Still holding the cookie, I went into the parlor. I was turning the pages of the album when I heard Grandma coming down the hall. Quickly I pushed the cookie down between the chair and the cushion. I intended to go back and get it, but during the course of the day, I forgot about it.

The next time Grandma cleaned the parlor, she found the dried-out cookie crumbs.

"I'm sorry, Grandma," I said. "I didn't mean to take it in there. I just forgot."

"Why in the world did you shove it down the chair?" she asked.

"I thought you'd scold me."

"Well, I would have. And I should now. You know better than to cover up something you've done wrong. You can be pretty sure it will be found out."

Uncle Roy came into the kitchen just then, and he began to laugh.

"I don't see anything very funny about that, Roy," Grandma said. "I'm trying to teach the child to be obedient."

"I'm not laughing at what she did. I just remembered something I covered up. Do you remember the time I teased you about the dishes, Mabel?"

"Oh, my, I should say so. I hadn't thought about that for a long time. That certainly proved that your sin will surely find you out."

Of course I had to know all about that, so Grandma told me the story.

I was only about six when it happened. I wanted to help Ma with the work, and I begged her to let me do the dishes. She wasn't sure that I could handle the whole job, but she would let me wash and dry the silverware occasionally.

One evening as Ma started to wash the supper dishes, I began to pester her to let me do them. Roy was in the kitchen, and I guess he decided this would be a good time to tease me.

' "You're too little, Mabel," he said. "You know you can't do dishes; that's not a job for babies. Wait until you get big like me."

"I can so!" I retorted. "I'm not a baby, and I can do dishes as well as you can!"

"Oh, no! You can't do anything as well as I can. You're still a baby. And besides, you're just a girl!"

This was more than I could stand, and I lit into Roy with both fists. I was howling with rage, and Roy was laughing at my attempts to pound him. Ma decided she had heard enough.

"Mabel, stop that right now," she commanded. "And Roy, since you're so big, and a boy, you can do the dishes tonight."

This was certainly not what Roy had planned on. "Aw, no, Ma! I didn't mean it! She can do the dishes if she wants

to.

"You can do the dishes, whether you want to or not," Ma said firmly. "Maybe you'll learn not to tease your sister so much."

So she tied an apron around Roy's middle and told him to get busy. He did, but he grumbled loudly. Ma ignored him and took me into the other room. I didn't find out what happened until I was much older.

After Ma and I left the kitchen, Roy began to pile the dishes into the dishpan. Ma was always very careful to put just a few dishes in at a time. But Roy was anxious to have this distasteful job over, so he dumped most of them in together.

He soon wished he hadn't, for he reached into the dishpan and took out half of one of Ma's good plates. He fished around in the pan and found the other half. He thought maybe he could mend it before Ma found out, so he would put the two pieces out by the henhouse to glue them in the morning.

His intentions were good, but his judgment wasn't. Without bothering to dry his soapy hands, he started out the back door with the broken plate. Partway down the path, it began to slip from his grasp. Unable to hold one piece and grab for the other, Roy watched them both fall to the ground and smash into small bits!

He glanced back at the door. No one had heard what happened, so he pushed the pieces into the grass beside the path. He figured he could get up early and pick them up before Ma saw them, and if she missed the plate before then, he'd just have to tell her he broke it.

Roy returned to the kitchen, and working more carefully, finished the dishes. As the boys went up to bed that night, Roy asked Reuben to wake him up early.

"What for?" Reuben asked suspiciously. "You never want to get up early."

"Well, tomorrow I do. And that's none of your business."

The next morning Roy was awakened early to discover that it had snowed during the night. There was no sign of a path between the house and the barnyard. He breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that he couldn't pick up the pieces now, and no one would see them. He promptly dismissed the broken plate from his mind and didn't think about it again.

That winter happened to be one of the stormiest we had. The snow didn't leave the ground at all. New snow fell before the old could melt. But spring came, as it always does, and one morning Pa came in for breakfast with some news.

"I think I saw one of your good plates this morning," he said to Ma.

"A plate! Where did you see it?"

"It's out there beside the path," Pa replied. "But it's in too many pieces to do you much good. Did you forget that you broke it?"

"No, I certainly did not. I wouldn't forget something like that. And I don't remember anyone else saying they had, either." Ma looked directly at me.

"Not me," I said quickly. "I didn't break it. Honest, Ma." "I did," Roy admitted in a small voice.

"You!" Ma exclaimed. "When did you have my good plate outside?"

"The night you made me wash the dishes. It was an accident. I didn't mean to break it."

Ma looked puzzled. "Why in the world didn't you say something about it before?"

"I meant to fix it," Roy said. "But it snowed and covered it up, and I forgot all about it. I'm sorry."

Pa looked at Roy sternly. "I hope you're sorry you broke the plate, and not just sorry the snow melted. You should have told Ma about it right away. You know that what you cover up will be found out sooner or later, don't you?"

Roy nodded and looked ashamed.

"You can save your money and buy a new plate. And remember," Pa added more kindly, "even if your parents never find out what you do, God knows about it and you are responsible to Him." '

Uncle Roy nodded as Grandma finished the story. "I didn't forget that," he said. "I've tried to live my life so the Lord would be pleased with me. I sure know it's useless to cover up anything!"

One of the things I liked to do best when I was a little girl was to brush Grandma's hair. Sometimes just before bedtime, when she took her hair down for the night, I had the chance to do that. The big bone hairpins were carefully placed in the little china dish on her dresser, and all her beautiful, long hair would fall down her back.

"I never saw such long hair, Grandma," I said one evening. "Haven't you ever had it cut?"

Grandma handed me the brush and picked up her sewing. "You could almost say that," she laughed. "It was never all cut off short, but some of it did get cut once."

"Tell me about it," I begged. "How did it happen? Did you get in trouble for it?"

"I was in trouble, all right," Grandma replied. "But not so much for the cut hair as for what I did to cover it up." Grandma thought for a moment, then began her story.

'It was a dark, rainy day. Sarah Jane and I were playing in the upstairs rooms until the rain stopped and we could go outside. Sarah Jane had come over early that morning to show me a birthday gift she had received the day before. I was suitably impressed, because I had never had anything that nice. It was a beautiful, heart-shaped locket.

"What are you going to put in it?" I asked. "You'll have to have something special for that pretty locket."

Sarah Jane nodded. "I know. I'd like to have a nice picture." She looked at me thoughtfully. "You're my best friend. Do you have a picture I could put in here?"

I shook my head. "I am afraid not. All the pictures of me are in the big album downstairs. If one was missing, Ma would notice right away."

Sarah Jane sighed. "It's a shame not to have something to put in it." Then she brightened. "My cousin has a piece of hair in her locket. You have lots of curls. Maybe I could have one to put in mine."

I was pleased that Sarah Jane wanted to put something that belonged to me in her locket, but I wasn't really sure about the hair.

"I don't know," I said. "I don't think Ma would like it. I've never had my hair cut."

"She won't even see it," Sarah Jane insisted. "I'll cut it out from underneath."

"Well, be careful. I don't want to get into trouble."

I ran to get the scissors, then sat down on the footstool, and Sarah Jane went to work. She lifted up the top curls and chose one underneath to cut.

"This is a good one. All the others cover this spot. I'll only cut a little bit off the end, and you can see how it looks. Maybe you'd like some cut off every curl."

"Oh, I don't think so," I said quickly. "One will be enough. I'll be in trouble if Ma sees that much gone."

"Don't worry," Sarah Jane said. "I'm not going to hurt it."

She picked up the scissors and began to snip the end off the curl. Just at that moment, a door slammed downstairs and both of us jumped. The scissors closed on my hair, and three curls dropped to the floor!

"Oh! Look what you did! How am I ever going to cover up all those curls?"

"I couldn't help it," Sarah Jane said. "You shouldn't have jumped."

"Well, you jumped too. How did I know you had half my hair in your hand? You said just one curl!"

"The rest of them fell down in the way when you moved," she said. "I couldn't help it." I ran to the mirror and looked at my hair.

"Oh," I moaned, "wait until Ma sees that. I'm really going to get it this time."

Sarah Jane looked remorseful. "Maybe you can comb it some other way so it won't be noticed."

"Ma always combs my hair. There's no way to keep her from seeing it."

"You could put your sunbonnet on," Sarah Jane suggested. "That would cover it up."

"I guess I could," I said doubtfully. "Maybe I can think of some way to tell her before she sees it."

I ran to get my sunbonnet and tucked my hair up underneath it. No one would see what had happened until I had to take it off.

"Won't your ma wonder why you're wearing a sunbonnet when it's raining?" Sarah Jane asked when I returned.

"You're the one who suggested it," I said crossly. "And you're the one who cut my hair off. Now you can just pray that the sun comes out."