In Grandma's Attic (5 page)

9

The Pearl Buttons

Grandma and I were eating lunch. “There’s a button missing from your sweater,” said Grandma. “Do you know where it is?”

“No, Grandma,” I said. “I must have lost it on the playground or someplace.”

“Go fetch me the button basket,” said Grandma. “Maybe I can match it.”

I ran to get the basket. Together we looked through the buttons for one that would fit my sweater. Grandma found one, and while she sewed it on, I stirred the buttons around with my finger. I had looked at them all so many times, but I never tired of playing with them or hearing stories about them.

“I think these little pearl buttons are nice, Grandma,” I said. I had picked out eight of them and laid them in a row on the table. “How many are there?”

“There used to be fifteen of them,” said Grandma. “I don’t know whether they are all there now or not.”

“What had that many buttons on it?” I asked.

“My new dress for the school program.” Grandma laughed. “And Ma wished she had never put them on it before the evening was over!”

“Why, Grandma?” I asked. “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s time for you to get back to school,” Grandma said. “Leave the buttons there. I’ll tell you about it this afternoon.”

When school was out, I hurried home to hear the story. Grandma was taking bread out of the oven, and she cut a crust for me to eat.

The dress was a pretty blue. Ma had made it especially for the end-of-the-year program at school. Everyone in the school had a piece to say or a song to sing. The families all came to the school in the evening, and after the program there was ice cream and cake for everyone. It was one of the biggest events of the year. I had been saying my piece over so many times that Pa teased me about it.

“If you decide you don’t want to go to the program, I can say your piece for you,” he said.

“Maybe you could say my piece,” I said, “but you couldn’t wear my new dress. And that’s the most important part.”

“Now, Mabel,” said Ma, “you shouldn’t be so proud. Nobody is going to pay near as much attention to your dress as they will to how well you speak.”

Poor Ma didn’t know how wrong she was that time.

The dress had a nice big pocket on the skirt and fifteen buttons that fastened down the back. Ma had crocheted little loops to fasten them. I thought they looked especially pretty, but I didn’t say any more about the dress.

When the evening of the program arrived, everyone was in a hurry to get ready. It seemed that everything happened to slow us down. It was about time to leave, and Ma had not changed her clothes yet. I had finished dressing, all but fastening the buttons on my dress, which I couldn’t do. When I went to Ma to be buttoned, she said, “Ask Pa to do it, Mabel. I’ve got to get dressed too.” But Pa had to make another trip to the barn before we left.

“Get one of your brothers to help you,” he said. “I couldn’t fasten those little buttons anyway.”

I knew better than to ask Reuben or Roy to button my dress. I’d just have to wait for Ma. But Ma took so long getting ready that I heard Pa bring Nellie and the buggy around. There was nothing to do but help myself. I certainly didn’t want them to go off and leave me. I quickly took off the dress, turned it around, and fastened the buttons up the front.

Pa was calling for us to hurry, so I slipped into my coat and ran to the buggy. We arrived at the school on time, and I ran to join my friends in the front row. The school was crowded and didn’t look at all like the place we had come to every day.

It was soon time for the program to begin. The younger children were the first to recite, so I was near the beginning. I could hardly wait for my turn to come. Finally my name was called. I took off my coat and marched proudly to the platform. Behind me I heard giggles and whispers. I turned around to see what could be the matter.

The older people were trying not to smile, but the children were laughing openly. And they were laughing at me! I looked around to see what I had done. I could see nothing funny. I looked at Ma, but she had her head down. Pa was shaking with laughter. Then I heard one of the girls in the front.

“Look at that!” she said. “Mabel has her dress on backwards!”

I looked down at the neat row of buttons. I didn’t think that looked so bad. Then I remembered: My big pocket was on the back! No one but boys had pockets on the backs of their clothes! The evening was ruined for me. I mumbled my piece and sat down again, red-faced and humiliated.

I don’t remember hearing much of the program. Even when the teacher assured me that I had done just fine, my spirits didn’t lift much. The ice cream and cake weren’t nearly as good as they should have been, and it was awfully warm in the school with a coat on. But I wouldn’t take it off, no matter how warm I got!

To my relief, Pa was ready to leave early. I was more than glad to climb into the buggy and start for home. Of course Roy had to say something about my disgrace.

“That’s just like a girl,” he said. “She would have to do something silly so people would notice her.”

But Ma was sympathetic. “Now don’t tease your sister,” she said. “She didn’t do it on purpose. We were just all too busy to help her, that’s all. It’s too bad I didn’t notice before we left.”

Pa chuckled. “But she did look like she had her head screwed on backwards when she walked up there,” he said.

“Now, Pa, you’re as bad as the boys,” Ma scolded. “Mabel feels bad enough already. Don’t make her feel worse!”

Of course I got over it all right. But that dress was never quite the same again. Though no one mentioned it, whenever I wore the dress to church, I was sure they all remembered how funny I had looked. Ma didn’t make a dress with so many buttons on the back again. And she was careful to check on me before we left the house to go anywhere.

Grandma laughed at the memory.

“It seems funny now,” she said, “but it was far from funny then. I guess it was just what I needed to take me down a peg.”

10

Nellie’s Trips to Town

The rain was splashing down, and I was bored.

“Grandma,” I said, “what did you do to have fun when you were a little girl?”

“Oh my,” said Grandma. “There was a lot to do on the farm. We had a swing in the big tree. We played in the barn loft when it rained. We waded in the brook and picked berries and nuts. There was always something to keep us busy.”

“Didn’t you ever go away on any trips?” I asked. “Did you have to stay on the farm all the time?”

“We went to church on Sunday,” said Grandma. “And sometimes we went to town with Ma and Pa for the day. That was a big treat.”

Grandma worked on her crocheting a few moments. Then she chuckled and said, “I remember one trip to town that had a funny ending. Run and get me another ball of thread, and I’ll tell you about it.”

I hurried back with the thread, and Grandma began the story.

It was a Friday, as I remember. Pa had several errands in town, and Ma wanted to do some shopping. So it was decided that the whole family would go and make a day of it. The boys hurried through their chores while Ma and I packed a lunch to take along. We were soon ready and on our way.

I went with Ma to pick out dress goods and other things she needed, and the boys went with Pa. We were to meet at the buggy later in the afternoon to get our lunch. We were going to picnic in the little grove at the edge of town. Pa tied Nellie to a hitching post near the blacksmith’s shop, and we all went our separate ways.

Ma and I took a long time picking out material and buttons and thread. Of course there were other things to look at too. By the time we got back to the blacksmith’s shop, Pa and the boys were already there.

Pa was looking up the road with a puzzled expression, and the boys were running around the back of the shop. Nellie and the buggy were nowhere to be seen.

Ma wasted no time in getting to the point.

“Pa,” she said, “where is Nellie?”

“I don’t know,” Pa replied. “But she doesn’t appear to be here.”

“Did you tie her tight?” Ma asked. “Could she have slipped the reins off the post and gone on home?”

“That’s not likely,” said Pa. “I’m sure I tied her as tight as usual. There must be some explanation for this.”

“Well,” said Ma. “I wish you’d find her in a hurry. Our lunch is in the buggy, and it’s getting late.”

“Yes, Pa,” I said. “I’m hungry.”

“We’ll find Nellie,” said Pa. “Don’t worry. I’ll ask around and see if anyone saw her start away.”

No one had. The blacksmith had noticed several buggies come and go, but he couldn’t say who was in them. There were still several horses tied there, but none of them was Nellie. Anyone who had noticed a horse pulling an empty buggy would surely have stopped it.

Evening was coming on, and we children were getting hungrier. Ma was getting more worried, and Pa had exhausted all the possibilities he could think of. At last he suggested that we go to the minister’s house to rest and decide what to do.

The minister’s wife was surprised to see us but very hospitable. “Why of course you’ll stay here,” she said when she had heard the story. “And after supper, Will can take you out to your place. I’m sure your horse must have gone on home.”

We were glad she had mentioned supper. The thought of the long ride home with nothing to eat was not a pleasant one for us children. The women began to prepare the meal, and Pa and the minister discussed our problem. There was never any thought that Nellie had been stolen. People just did not steal horses and buggies in our little town. Perhaps some mischievous boys had untied the horse, but even that didn’t seem likely with people around all the time.

There seemed to be no more to do about it that night, so after supper the minister hitched up his buggy, and we got in for our trip home. It was dark by that time, and only a few people were left on the street. Light shone from the blacksmith’s shop, however, and as we approached it, Roy called out, “Look, Pa! There’s Nellie, right where we left her!”

The minister stopped the horse, and Pa jumped down. Sure enough, Nellie and the buggy were sitting in the same spot where they had left them. Pa walked around and looked at the horse in disbelief. Nellie looked back at him as if to say, “Well, where have you been? Don’t you know it’s dark?”

By this time, the rest of us were gathered around. The lunch still sat in the buggy, untouched. We were too astonished to speak.

Finally Pa said, “I guess we might as well go home. She’s not going to tell us where she’s been.”

He thanked the minister for his help, and we climbed into our own buggy. The trip home was spent trying to find a reasonable explanation for what had happened. We could think of none. Pa was just glad to have the horse and buggy back and be on the way home.

Saturday morning we were still talking about the mystery when our neighbor Ed Hobbs drove into the yard. Pa went out to meet him and invited him in to breakfast.

“Thanks,” said Ed, “but I’ve already eaten. I just came to tell you folks what happened yesterday.”

He sat down at the table and told us the story.

“I was pretty busy yesterday,” he said, “and I had a broken plow that needed to be fixed. I couldn’t spare my boy to take it into town, so Grandpa said he’d do it for me. Grandpa’s getting pretty old and doesn’t see very well, but I thought he could probably make it to the blacksmith’s shop all right, so I loaded the plow in the buggy, and Grandpa started out.

“It wasn’t until early evening, long after Grandpa had returned, that I noticed a strange horse in the barn. Then I saw the buggy out beside the shed. I went into the house to see who was visiting. Grandpa was dozing by the fire, and there was no one else in the kitchen but the family.

“‘Grandpa,’ I said, ‘whose horse is that in the barn?’

“‘Why, it’s our horse, naturally,’ said Grandpa. ‘Whose did you think it was?’

“‘That’s not our horse, Grandpa,’ I said. ‘It looks like Brother O’Dell’s horse and buggy to me.’

“‘Brother O’Dell?’ said Grandpa. ‘Is Brother O’Dell here? Why didn’t he come in and sit a spell?’

“‘No, Grandpa,’ I replied. ‘Brother O’Dell isn’t here. I think you brought his horse and buggy home.’

“‘Now why would I do a thing like that?’ asked Grandpa indignantly. ‘I wasn’t anywhere near the O’Dells’ place today!’

“I gave up on Grandpa,” said Ed. “I hitched up your horse and drove it into town. There was our horse and buggy, right in front of the blacksmith’s shop. The blacksmith said you had been looking for your horse, but he didn’t know where you had gone, so I tied her up and came on home. I figured I’d come and tell you about it first thing this morning. I’m sorry about Grandpa. I won’t send him on any more errands into town!”

Pa laughed as hard as we children did. He assured Ed that everything had turned out all right, and Grandpa Hobbs was forgiven. We seldom made a trip to town after that but someone would say, “Remember when Grandpa Hobbs took Nellie home by mistake?” I guess that was the most memorable trip to town we had when I was a little girl.

Grandma continued to rock and crochet, and I returned to the window to watch the rain and think what fun it would have been to be a little girl when Grandma was.