Ginger Pye (5 page)

The light shining through the church windows was growing dim and the children were growing very tired and hungry. There were now only the long choir stalls, two on each side, and the pulpit, and they would be finished.

"We'll save the pulpit for the end," said Rachel, having an idea the pulpit was the dessert of the job.

While they were dusting the long choir stalls, in came the altar ladies to arrange the flowers for tomorrow's service, and to polish things up at this end of the church. So the children had to take the dusters off and be businesslike. However, the altar ladies paid no attention to the pew dusters. They said not a word, quietly did their arranging, and tiptoed out.

Now. There was just one place left to dust and
this was the pulpit. "I'll dust it," said Rachel, anxious to get up in the pulpit and hoping the others did not have the same desire. They were quite content, though, to sit in the front pew and rest while Rachel did this last important dusting.

At first Rachel felt very timid about going up in the minister's pulpit, standing there, and dusting it. It was quite an awesome thing to do, stand in a minister's pulpit, the place where he delivered his sonorous sermons and read the lessons for the day. She resolved to dust it carefully by hand, so that when the Reverend Gandy was waving his arms and exhorting the congregation, the palms of his hands would not be black with dust and cause consternation among his flock.

But once Rachel was up there in the pulpit she forgot her timidity. In fact, the more she recalled how the minister looked and sounded doing his exhorting the less timid she became. In the end, she waved her duster in the air and started to exhort her congregation which, in this case, consisted of Jerry and Uncle Bennie. Uncle Bennie was beginning to look sleepy and, like tall Judge Ball and short dumpy Mrs. Widdemeyer on Sundays, he needed a bit of waking up.

Jerry and Uncle Bennie could not help laughing.
Neither one of them thought they should be laughing in church, but they couldn't help it, and naturally this inspired Rachel to more exciting and dramatic heights.

"Ca' the Ethiopia' cha'ge his ski' or the leopar' his spo'?" she demanded, remembering a story Gramma told of a certain missionary who, returning from Africa, delivered his text in this fashion, for he had some difficulty with his speech.

This doubled Uncle Bennie up with joy, for he remembered the story too. "Ca' the Ethiopia'..." he repeated.

"Hush," said Rachel. "Let me be the minister. And let you be the congregation." Obediently Uncle Bennie kept still, waiting for more fun. This fun Rachel was happy to supply with a rendition that was supposed to represent the Reverend Gandy when he was most eloquent.

At this triumphant moment, out of a corner of her eye, Rachel thought she glimpsed the Reverend Gandy himself, standing in one of the rear side doorways of the church. She didn't dare to take a good look to make sure. She was frozen with embarrassment, her arms raised to heaven, as still as in a painted picture. Then, with great presence of mind, she switched from her meaningless garble,
her imitation of the minister, to a quiet exhortation to Jerry and Uncle Bennie to go to Sunday school, to go often, and to be good boys, and not to spend their Sunday school pennies on peanuts, but to put them in the plate.

She paused. She moved her eyes as far to their corners as she could, in order to see, without turning her head, whether or not the minister was there. She thought he was.

Jerry and Uncle Bennie laughed and laughed. They were in stitches. They didn't know that Rachel thought she saw the minister, and they laughed harder at the funny face she was making, her eye-rolling, than they had at her speech.

"Laugh not in church," counseled Rachel.

"It's a wonder something doesn't smite her down," marveled Jerry.

"Sm-i-te her down," echoed Uncle Bennie.

"Attend the Friday evening lectures on Jerusalem," suggested Rachel. "They are free. And there are colored slides," she added. "Above all, come with clean hands," she said as an afterthought.

Then, with great dignity, she backed down out of the pulpit and, wiping her brow on her duster, sat down with Jerry and Uncle Bennie.

"Hey," she whispered. "Turn around, Jerry, and see if the minister is standing in the side door."

"Jiminy crickets," muttered Jerry. He turned around but there was no one in the doorway, or in any of the doorways.

"He was there," said Rachel. "I think he was. Will I be cast out of the church?"

"Might be," said Jerry. He suddenly realized how tired he was. And here his sister was, getting herself cast out of churches on the day he was earning his dollar to buy the puppy that was over in Speedys' barn. Perhaps getting himself cast out too, and even Uncle Bennie, as partners. It would only be fair, since Rachel had helped with the dusting of the pews, to ask to be cast out of the church along with her, if she were singled out. But he was annoyed
with her. Then Rachel looked so unhappy he said, "Shucks. He probably wasn't there at all. You're always thinking things."

Their work was finished and they tiptoed across the church and down the long twilit chancel to the Parish House where they left the dusters in the little closet in which they had found them. Then they went out of the Parish House door into the late-afternoon waning sunlight.

There, in the garden in front of the Parish House, was the Reverend Gandy plucking off dead chrysanthemums and withered leaves. He had his long black clericals on under his regular suit jacket. He smiled benignly at the children.

"We've been dusting the pews, sir," explained Jerry.

"Ah-h-h," said the minister. "You are the youngest pew dusters I have ever seen."

The three children smiled. Had he been standing in the doorway or hadn't he?

"Come to the lantern slides in the fall," suggested the Reverend Gandy. "They are in color."

"And free," said Uncle Bennie.

"We will, we will," cried Jerry and Rachel hastily, and they ran as fast as they could, yanking Uncle Bennie's red wagon behind them.

"We won't miss one," Rachel shouted over her shoulder to the Reverend Gandy, who nodded approvingly and then stooped to pluck a flower; and the three children dashed across the Green as the clock in the other church, the little white church, struck five.

Mrs. Speedy's was the last house on Elm Street on the way out to the reservoir. She owned several cows and had quite a dairy. It was far from the Green but the children could easily get there before six o'clock. Nevertheless, they ran practically all the way in order to have a little leeway. Supposing that other person, who wanted the same puppy as Jerry, should already be hanging around waving his dollar, hoping Jerry wouldn't show up? Then Mrs. Speedy might think a bird in the hand's worth two in the bush and let him have it a few minutes ahead of time.

Why had that other person picked out the same puppy as Jerry anyway, they wondered. All the puppies were very nice and when Mrs. Speedy told the person this certain brown-and-white one was promised to Jerry Pye, you would think he'd say, "OK then. I'll take this other one." But no. Jerry's puppy
was the one the person wanted, according to Mrs. Speedy, and he wanted no substitute.

But Jerry forgot about the other person when they reached Mrs. Speedy's. They rushed right out to the huge barn to make sure Jerry's puppy was still there. He was! He, and all the puppies, yapped joyously and tumbled all over one another when they saw Jerry. They recognized him because he had come to play with them nearly every day. Not having any tails left to speak of, and what little they had being bandaged up, they had to wag their whole selves in their delight.

Mrs. Speedy was at the other end of the long barn, where the cows were. A rosy light shone through the doorway from the great red disk of setting sun. Though Jerry Pye had been here often to see the puppies, this was only the second time in her life that Rachel had been inside of Speedys' barn.

The other time that Rachel had been inside of Speedys' barn was by accident, long ago, when she was about seven. She and Jerry had come over to this part of town to a big party the Sunday school teacher, Miss Foote, was giving. It was wintertime and very cold and since Miss Foote's house was on a steep slippery hill, she had said, "Bring your sleds."

It had grown dark early but this did not matter, for Japanese lanterns had been hung in the chestnut trees and made lovely colored reflections in the snow and ice. The children slid down the steep little hill that Miss Foote's house was perched on, and when

they grew cold they went indoors for hot chocolate; and then they came out to slide some more. They never wanted to go home, for none of them had ever slid downhill by the light of Japanese lanterns before.

For one slide Rachel got going with such momentum she not only slid down Miss Foote's short steep little hill, she kept right on going, and to her delight found herself sailing down a long gradual slope that seemed never to end. It was like movies of ski jumpers, she thought. On and on she went. If a prize were to have been given at this party for the longest slide she would surely have won it. When finally she stopped, she was in a big barren icy field with a few frozen spikes of last year's long grass sticking up here and there out of the snow. It was dark and there were no Japanese lanterns and no other children nearby sliding. Then suddenly she knew she was lost in the big dark ice field and she didn't know the way back.

Rachel looked all around and before she had time to get frightened she saw a light twinkling, a dark red light. She thought it might be one of the Japanese lanterns, though how it had got way over here, all by itself, she did not understand. But it was reassuring to see it and she made her way toward
it. The light turned out to be in Speedys' barn. Mrs. Speedy was milking the cows by the light of a dark red lantern which was what Rachel had seen. Stepping into the barn was like stepping into a painting, a painting that was dark excepting where the red cows were, and Mrs. Speedy's ruddy face, the lantern, and the white milk that looked purple. Although Rachel had never been inside this place before, she had passed it from the outside, going up Shingle Hill on picnics. So she had figured in a second what place she was in. It was like waking from a dream to find herself this far from the party, like being in a surprising new world. But it was a relief to be somewhere and not sliding around in the bare empty field.

Instead of trying to find the party again Rachel had run as fast as she could all the way to the Green, her sled bobbing along behind her and knocking into her heels, and then all the way home.

Jerry had come home soon afterwards. No one at the party had missed her, not even Jerry. Rachel didn't tell anyone about being in the picture of Speedys' barn because it was a hard thing to explain. But it was interesting to remember, as she was doing now.

Today it was a little lighter in the barn than it
had been that other time, for this was still summer. But the same dusty red lantern hung from a rafter and the cows were down at the other end of the barn, and again it was like being in a painting.