In Grandma's Attic (6 page)

11

The New Pump

“Be careful,” said Grandma. “That’s hot!”

But I had already taken a swallow of the cocoa, and now I knew it was hot. It burned my tongue and all the way down.

“That’s too bad,” said Grandma. “I know how that feels. I’ve burned my tongue many times. Did you know that something doesn’t have to be hot to burn your tongue?”

“You can’t burn it on something cold,” I said, still rubbing at the tears that had come to my eyes.

“Oh my,” Grandma replied, “you surely can. And much worse than you’ve just burned yours. I know because I did it once.”

“How, Grandma?” I asked.

“I was quite often a foolish little girl,” said Grandma. “If someone told me not to do something, that was exactly what I wanted to do. Most of the time I had to pay dearly for it too. But this time I learned a lesson I didn’t forget for a long time.”

It was in the fall that Pa had gotten a new pump. We had drawn the water from a well before, and the pump was a wonderful thing. You just had to move the handle up and down, and the water came gushing out. We all felt quite privileged to have such a wonderful thing in our own yard. The boys didn’t fuss about whose turn it was to get water for Ma, and they could fill the horse trough in just a few minutes. The whole family enjoyed that pump.

The weather had gotten cold early that year, and we had frost most every night in October. By November the snow was falling, so the boys needed mittens on when they went to get water in the morning. The well was deep so the water didn’t freeze in the winter. Sometimes the pump would be frozen, though, and they would have to bring hot water from the kitchen to pour in and thaw it. Even that extra work didn’t take away from the enjoyment we children got from that new pump.

One evening our neighbor Mr. Hobbs stopped by to visit. He and Pa sat in the kitchen talking about the crops and the cold weather. I was helping Ma with the dishes. I was always anxious to enter into the conversation, but since I didn’t know much about crops, there seemed to be nothing for me to say. However, during a lull in the talking, I thought of something I
did
know about.

“Mr. Hobbs,” I said, “did you know we have a new pump?”

“No,” said Mr. Hobbs. “Do you really, now? I suppose you bring in all the water for your Ma and water the animals, too, don’t you?”

I knew Mr. Hobbs was just teasing. The handle was too heavy for me to move fast enough to get the water started. The boys had let me help them pump sometimes when they were in a good mood. But I laughed along with Mr. Hobbs and Pa. A few minutes later Mr. Hobbs rose to leave. As he opened the door, he turned to me and said with a laugh, “Well, Mabel, don’t put your tongue on that pump handle!” Then he and Pa went out into the yard.

That seemed a strange thing to say. Why would I want to do that? I concluded that Mr. Hobbs was teasing again and thought no more about it.

Several days later I came out of the house to find everything covered with new snow. I could see my breath in the frosty air, and there were little thin pieces of ice around the edges of the horse trough. I gave the pump handle a few pulls to see if I might be able to get some water, but of course nothing happened. The handle was white with frost, and as I stood looking at it, I remembered Mr. Hobbs’s remark. Since he was only fooling, there was no reason why I shouldn’t lick the frost off the handle if I wanted to. So I bent over and put my tongue on the pump handle. I knew right away that Mr. Hobbs hadn’t been fooling. My tongue was stuck fast!

It’s not very easy to holler without moving your tongue, but I could still cry, and I began to do so. Big tears ran down my cheeks and dripped on the pump handle. Fortunately, Reuben was coming from the barn and saw me.

“Mabel, what in the world are you doing?” he asked. Then he saw the predicament I was in.

“Wait right here,” he said. “I’ll go get Ma.”

Of course there was nothing I could do except wait right there, but it was comforting to know that help was on the way.

“Ma,” Reuben called, “Mabel has her tongue stuck on the pump handle!”

Ma came running out to look.

“Don’t pull on it, Mabel,” she said. “Just stay right here and I’ll get some warm water.”

I was getting a little tired of being told to stay right there when they all knew I couldn’t possibly move, but I nodded my head the best I could. Ma was soon back with a dipper of warm water.

“Now this will hurt,” she said, “but it’s the only way to get your tongue loose. My, what a silly thing for you to do. Didn’t you know that anything wet sticks to cold metal?”

I hadn’t known, but I did now. The warm water loosened my tongue, but some of the skin came off. I’ll tell you, I had a sore tongue for a long time. The new pump didn’t seem quite as enchanting to me for a while. I begged Pa not to tell Mr. Hobbs what I had done, and he promised me that no one would hear about it. Ma warned the boys not to tease me; she figured I had suffered enough for my foolishness.

Grandma shook her head at the memory.

“We all have to learn some way,” she said, “but I’m sure there’s a better way than that to do it. Sometimes we act the same way with God—He tells us not to do things, but we try them anyway. By the time we’re sorry about it, we’ve been hurt and feel just a little foolish.”

I slowly finished my cocoa while I thought about Grandma’s story.

12

You Can’t Always Believe

Grandma called me in from the yard. “I thought I asked you to put these slippers away,” she said.

“But I did, Grandma,” I replied. “I put them away when you told me to.”

“Then how did they get back out here?” asked Grandma. “You shouldn’t say you have done something when you haven’t. Now put them away, please.”

I picked up the slippers and walked slowly to my room. I had put them away when she told me to, and she didn’t believe me.

Later that morning I sat in the big kitchen waiting for the cookies to come out of the oven. Skip, the old farm dog, suddenly appeared around the corner dragging one of my slippers!

“Look, Grandma!” I said. “There’s how my slippers got back out here!”

“Well,” Grandma said to Skip, “I ought to use that slipper on you. Someone else got the scolding that you deserved.

“I’m sorry, child, that I didn’t believe you,” she said to me. “Next time I won’t be so quick to blame you until I find out what happened.”

Grandma took the cookies from the oven, and as she poured a glass of milk for me, she chuckled.

“I remember how something like that happened to my brother Roy,” she said. “It wasn’t very funny at the time, at least not to Roy, but we have laughed about it since.”

“Tell me about it, Grandma,” I said.

Grandma slid another pan of cookies into the oven, then sat down at the table.

It happened when Roy was about ten years old. It had rained all day Saturday and into the night. Sunday morning Pa called to Roy, who slept up in the loft above the kitchen with Reuben.

“Roy,” Pa said, “I think I told you to clean your shoes last night before you went to bed.”

“I did clean them, Pa,” he said. “I put them right by the fireplace.”

“Well,” said Pa, “they are by the fireplace all right, but they certainly aren’t clean!”

Roy scrambled down the ladder and stared at the muddy shoes in disbelief.

“But, Pa—” he began.

“Don’t ‘But, Pa’ me. Get those shoes cleaned, and be quick about it,” said Pa.

Roy cleaned the shoes, but the look on his face said that something was unfair.

A few days later Pa came in from the barn as we were getting ready for school. “Boys,” he asked, “who was responsible for closing the gate on the sheep pen last night?”

“I was, Pa,” answered Roy. “And I closed it tight. I made sure it was latched.”

“Well,” said Pa, “you can also make sure that the sheep are all back in the pen before you leave for school. The gate was wide open this morning.”

After Roy had left to take care of the sheep, Pa said, “That boy needs working on. He doesn’t know what responsibility is anymore.”

On Saturday morning Ma went up to the boys’ room to change the bedding. Under Roy’s pillow she found several crumbled cookies and an apple. At noon, when we sat down to eat dinner, Ma said, “Roy, do you get enough to eat at the table?”

“Why sure, Ma,” Roy said. “I get plenty to eat.” He looked at her in surprise.

“Then why do you take food to bed with you?” Ma asked.

“To bed!” said Roy. “I don’t take food to bed!”

“Then I suppose Pep put the apple and cookies under your pillow,” Ma replied tartly.

Roy’s mouth dropped open, but before he could say anything, Pa put down his fork and looked sternly across the table.

“Young man, it seems that nothing that happens around here is your fault. Now if you don’t straighten up and stop this foolishness, I’m going to have to take the strap to you.”

Roy might have gotten that strapping too, except that quite by accident I helped him out. I developed a bad case of the croup, and Ma had to get up in the night to fix hot cloths and cough medicine for me. As she stood by the stove, she saw Roy coming down from the loft. He went to the fireplace, put on his shoes, and started for the door. Ma was about to call to him when she realized that Roy was fast asleep!

The moon was full, and the yard was as bright as day. Ma watched as Roy crossed the yard, opened the barn door, and disappeared inside. Before she could call Pa to go get him, Roy reappeared carrying Nellie’s harness. He hung it over the fence, came back to the house, took off his shoes, and went back to bed!

Roy was as surprised as the rest of us to learn that he had been walking in his sleep. Of course Pa was sorry that he had scolded Roy for things he didn’t know he was doing. Ma put an end to the sleepwalking by moving Reuben’s bed over the loft opening so that Roy couldn’t get down.

Poor Roy. He was sure that someone was working against him. He was relieved to find out that there was a reason for it all.

Grandma laughed and got up to brush the crumbs from the table.

“It just shows,” she said, “that you have to be careful about blaming people. You can’t always believe even the things you see!”