Lou was working on a batch of bread and I was splittin’ up some wood to get a little ahead so I could work in that fishin’ trip when I heard a wagon comin’. I recognized Mr. T. Smith’s team even before it turned into our lane. It was kind of unusual for a neighbor to come calling during harvest, so my head came up rather quick-like. Mr. T. pulled his horses up and flipped the reins. I went forward to say a howdy, more out of curiosity than friendliness. It was then that I spied an elderly man beside him on the high wagon seat.
He was dressed in a brown tweedy suit rather than in work clothes. His hat was a jaunty small-brimmed affair—not wide-brimmed to shed rain and sun like the locals wore. He had a clean-shaven face except for a carefully trimmed white mustache. I sized him up pretty good in the brief time I had, then looked again to study his face. In his eyes I saw a twinkle that made me take to him right away, but I held myself back. I wished that Mr. T. would speak up and explain the presence of the stranger before I showed rudeness by asking.
“Howdy,” I said, including them both. That much I felt sure was safe without bein’ rude—Grandpa wouldn’t tolerate “lip” from a youngster.
“Howdy,” Mr. T. replied, but the older gent just gave me an amused smile. “Brought yer great-granddaddy.”
My eyes jerked back to the old man, and at the same time my blood started churnin’ all through me. This was him? Sure wasn’t the package that I’d been expectin’. There were no baggy unkempt pants, no tobacco-stained chin, no glassed-over watery eyes. This alert, well-kept gentleman with the sparkle in his eyes was my great-grandpa?
Blood went pounding through my head, and I jest couldn’t seem to think or move. I had me a lot of feelings that I couldn’t put a name to—relief I guess, maybe a little leftover fear and— funny thing—jest a small amount of pride too. I suddenly realized that I was standin’ there with my eyes buggin’ and my mouth hangin’ open.
“Howdy, Joshua.” He said my name like he had said it many times before, like it was something really special to him. But the “howdy” sounded new on his tongue.
I coaxed out a rather hesitant smile and bestirred myself.
“Howdy, sir,” I managed to answer.
He laughed at that—a nice, full, fun-filled laugh, and then he busied himself with gettin’ down from the wagon. He took it slow and careful, but he was steady and as sure of himself as I would have been.
Mr. T. was busy setting down Great-grandpa’s belongings. I reached up to give him a hand. After all was unloaded Mr. T. gathered up the reins and prepared to climb back up into the wagon.
“Wouldn’t you come in, Mr. T.? Lou would be pleased to serve coffee,” I asked, rememberin’ some of the manners Grandpa had tried so hard to instill in me.
“No, Joshua,” he answered, “I best git back to the cuttin’. Had to go in to the smithy to git some repairs done or I’d be home at it now. Seein’ how I was comin’ by on my way home, I was pleasured to have the company of yer great-granddaddy when I heerd he was in town and lookin’ fer a way out.”
“Thank you,” I said. “We all most appreciate that. Grandpa will be much obliged.”
“No trouble—my pleasure.” He turned then to my great-grandpa. “Nice to have met you, Mr. Jones. Hope that we have the pleasure of gittin’ good acquainted-like.”
“And I thank you sincerely,” said my great-grandpa, ex-tendin’ his hand, “for the safe and appreciated transport—and for the enjoyable company. I’m sure that we will have future opportunities to get better acquainted.”
Mr. T. smiled, nodded, and turned the team in a big arc and left the yard. I came alive with excitement. I could hardly wait to show Great-grandpa to Auntie Lou—or Auntie Lou to Great-grandpa, I wasn’t sure which. Something deep inside of me told me that they belonged to each other. I guess maybe it was those clear blue eyes that looked like the whole world was a fun place to be.
“Come on in, Great-grandpa.” I hurried him. “I’ll bring in yer things later.”
He picked up one small bag, and I grabbed a couple of suitcases and we went through the gate, around to the back porch and into the kitchen.
Lou was jest lifting golden-crusted bread from the oven as we walked in. Her face was flushed and her hair curled around her forehead.
“Lou,” I blurted out before she could even look up. “Great-grandpa’s here.”
She put down the hot pan and turned to us. For a very brief time they looked at one another, and then with a glad cry Lou rushed to him. He was ready for her, his arms held open wide. They laughed and hugged and laughed again. Anyone watchin’ would never have guessed that they were seein’ one another for the very first time. I saw tears on the cheeks of each of them. I wasn’t sure whose tears they were. Great-grandpa squeezed Lou close.
“Louisa,” he said, “little Lou. You’re just like your daddy said.”
“Oh, Grandpa,” she pulled back now, “it’s so good to have you. So good. But how did you get here?”
“A kind neighbor.”
“Mr. T. Smith brought him,” I offered. I wanted to be sure that they still knew that I was around.
“Sit down.” Lou was still in a happy fluster. “Sit down and I’ll get you some coffee. Josh, you run to the well and get some cream.”
“No need for me, my dear. I drink my coffee black.”
Lou nodded to Great-grandpa and turned to me again.
“Josh, do you want to whip up some grape juice for yourself?”
The grape juice was always kept on the pantry shelf. It was jest a matter of dilutin’ it some with cold well water. I was even allowed the liberty of sprinklin’ in a bit of sugar.
“You know,” said Great-grandpa, “I think that maybe I’d prefer a bit of that grape juice, too. It was rather a warm trip sitting out there in the sun—and Lou,” he added with a twinkle in his eye and a small twitch of his mustache, “just
one
slice of that delicious-smelling bread.”
I fixed three glasses of the grape juice while Auntie Lou sliced some fresh bread and put out some homemade butter and crabapple jelly.
We had fun around the table. Great-grandpa told some stories about his long trip on the train—how one big lady had motion sickness, and how a little man with a funny box was discovered to have a pig in the passenger car. He also told of a mother with three small children who was havin’ a very tryin’ time until my great-grandpa offered to play games with the little ones. He said it made the miles go quicker for him, too. The young woman cried when she thanked him at the end of her journey.
All at once I glanced at the clock. The time had been racin’ by and I had lots of chores that needed doin’ before the men-folk got in from the fields. I jumped up rather suddenly and headed for the door.
“Josh,” Great-grandpa called after me. I thought that he might be goin’ to mention the fact that I hadn’t asked to be excused, so I stood there feelin’ rather sheepish.
“Josh, you are the chore-boy in harvest time, I assume.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you have many chores?”
“Quite a few, sir.”
He smiled.
“Let’s see now.” He seemed to be workin’ on something as he tugged at one side of his mustache. “We should be able to come up with something better than ‘sir’ for you to address me by, shouldn’t we?”
“Yes—Great-grandfather.”
He laughed again.
“Now
that
,” he said, “is really a mouthful.
That
will never do. You could drown or starve at the table before you got my attention with all of that to say.”
I smiled.
“You call Daniel ‘Grandpa’?”
I nodded.
“Then it can’t be just grandpa or we’d never know whom you meant.”
He worked on his mustache some more.
“Grandfather is
too
dignified for me.” He wrinkled his nose in a humorous smile. “On the other hand, Grandpappy is not dignified enough. That leaves Gramps. What do
you
think of Gramps?”
“I rather like it, sir.” I tried biting off the “sir,” but it slipped out anyway. He smiled.
“Okay, Gramps it will be. Lou can call me Gramps, too, and then you’ll both know whom you are talking about.”
I grinned. It would be nice to share the name with Lou. I glanced again at the clock. It was gettin’ late.
“Now then,” said Gramps, “do you suppose an old man trailing around with you while you do the chores would slow you down too much?”
“Oh, no, sir—Gramps.”
“Good! You run along and get started, and I’ll get changed into the overalls that I bought in town. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
I was off on a run. I knew what needed to be done and what I should tackle first to get it out of the way; I worked as quickly as I could, feeling an excitement that I couldn’t put into words at the thought of Gramps comin’ to join me.
Tonight my dog was a rusty brown with soft eyes and long droopy ears. But I had little time for her after explainin’ the reason for my rush.
“Ginger, ya jest gonna have to stand aside so you don’t git tramped on ’cause I’m in a hurry to git as much done as I can before
Gramps
comes to help me.”
The pigs must have wondered what had happened, the way that I ran with the slop-pails and chop. Then I took the grain and water to the chickens. On the lope, I left for the pasture gate to let Bossie down the lane. I didn’t dare to run her and I felt all agitated at her slow walk for fear Gramps would be waitin’ for me. He was, though he didn’t seem at all put out about it.
His new overalls looked strange on him. He had rolled up the cuffs so that they wouldn’t drag in the dirt. He wore a new pair of farmer’s boots, too, and an old sweater that he referred to as his “gardenin’ sweater.”
We walked to the house for the milk pail, then back again to the barn. He pulled up an extra stool and watched me as the white streams of milk filled the pail with foam. As I milked he talked to me. He even talked to Bossie, and I had the strangest feelin’ that at any time he might turn around and begin talkin’ to Ginger, too.
We took the full pail of milk to the house, and Gramps said that sometime he’d like to give it a try—it looked easy enough. Did I think that Bossie would mind? I didn’t think so. She was pretty even-tempered and never really seemed to mind anything but the pesky flies that sometimes drove her runnin’ with her tail flyin’ high.
By the time we were back from the house, Bossie had finished her chop. I let her out of her stanchion and we drove her down the lane and back to pasture. While we walked, Gramps told me how it had been for him growin’ up as a boy in a big city back east. No open pastures or acres of trees, but all tall buildings, belchin’ smoke stacks, and crowded streets. I tried to see it all in my mind, but it was pretty hard to picture, me never havin’ been anywhere near a big city.
We ended my chores by carryin’ wood. I was glad that I had already split it. Gramps carried his share. He could take as many sticks in a load as I could. I had to admire him.
I was about to return to the house when I remembered that Grandpa and Uncle Charlie would soon be returning with thirsty and tired teams.
“You go on in,” I said to Gramps. “I think that I’ll jest run on down to the barn and fork down some hay for the horses, then pump the trough full of water.”
“Tell you what, you do the forking and I’ll do the pumping.”
He could see that I wasn’t sure that I should let him.
“Go ahead. If I tire, I’ll rest.”
I ran for the barn and pushed the hay down through the chute into the mangers, then I measured out the chop and put each horse’s portion in his chop box. I ran back to the pump-house. Gramps was still pumpin’. He didn’t seem too winded and the trough was almost full. I took over and finished filling it.
Mentally I checked all the chores off the list that I kept in my mind. That was it. Everything was cared for and on time, too.
We carried in Gramps’ two trunks and put them in the downstairs bedroom which had been our “guest room,” though we never had overnight guests. Lou had decided that would be the best place for him—before she saw that stairs really wouldn’t have slowed him down that much. The room was all repapered, fresh-painted and ready. It still seemed the most appropriate place for Gramps.
Lou had supper ready and waiting on the back of the stove. We washed ourselves and prepared to wait, but while we were still sharin’ the long kitchen towel, we could hear the jingling of harness and we knew that Grandpa and Uncle Charlie would soon be there to join us.
L
OU GOT THE IDEA
that it would be fun to surprise Grandpa and Uncle Charlie, them not expectin’ Gramps to show up jest out of the blue like that; Gramps went along with it wholeheartedly. He looked around the kitchen to make sure that he hadn’t left anything laying around that would give him away and then slipped into his new bedroom.
Grandpa and Uncle Charlie took turns at the basin, sloshin’ the warm water over their faces, necks, and arms. Then they scrubbed their hands with the strong soap and rinsed them in fresh water.
“Glad to see the mangers and the trough full, Boy,”
Grandpa commended me. Uncle Charlie tousled my hair but said nothin’.
They took their places at the table and Lou set on the food.
Grandpa was the first to notice.
“What’s the extry place?”
“Oh, my goodness,” said Lou. “Can’t I even count anymore?” But when she made no move to take away the plate, Grandpa became suspicious. He and Uncle Charlie were probably both afraid that Lou had stolen a march on them and was doin’ a little lookin’ over the field on her own. She set down the last dish of food, a heaped-up bowl of new potatoes, and gave Grandpa her innocent little girl look.
“Truth is, Pa, I invited a guest for supper.”
Grandpa and Uncle Charlie really looked nervous now.
Uncle Charlie recovered first.
“Well—where is he?”
We weren’t in the habit in our home of sittin’ down to eat before the guests arrived.
“Well—he’s—he’s—a—in the bedroom.” Lou raised her voice as she said it and Gramps took the cue, but not before Grandpa and Uncle Charlie had nearly choked on Lou’s words.
Out popped Gramps in his new, but now slightly soiled, overalls and boots, his perky mustache twitchin’ humorously and his blue eyes twinklin’.