around? It’s Jolly Grubbs.”
Kurt immediately appeared, greeting the older gentleman with the respect he deserved. Purposely speaking loudly enough so that Charlie could hear, Jolly told Kurt he needed to borrow Helen’s saw.
“Sure thing,” said Kurt. “I sharpened it just yesterday. I’ll get it out of the toolshed.”
Jolly followed Kurt, asking, “Any idea where I might find a smooth, thick piece of wood I can saw down till it’s about yea long and yea wide?” He used his hands to measure.
“There are some odds-and-ends lumber stacked against the smokehouse,” said Kurt. “I’m sure we can find something suitable there.”
“Mighty fine,” said Jolly. “Mighty fine. Now just one last little thing. I need a good long length of rope, new enough and strong enough to hold up a person’s weight. A big person, mind you. Got anything like that in the toolshed or the barn?”
“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.”
Kurt didn’t question him as to what he intended to do with the saw, the lumber, and the rope. Jolly knew it wasn’t because Kurt had no interest, but instead because he had already caught on to Jolly’s scheme.
Within the hour a sturdy rope swing hung suspended from a low, sweeping branch of the big live oak tree in the backyard. And a portly, white-haired man was alone in the shady yard, seated in the new swing, swinging gaily back and forth, laughing as though he’d never had so much fun in his life.
From the cover of the plank corral, Kurt Northway crouched on his heels and watched Jolly swing, hoping the ploy would work. Inside the house, Helen stood at the kitchen window, looking anxiously out, the fingers of both hands crossed behind her back.
Finally, after several long minutes, the blond-haired little boy could stand it no longer. Curious, Charlie wandered up to the yard. He paused tentatively at the back gate. The dozing Dom, lying just inside, awakened and eagerly came to greet Charlie, wanting to be his friend. While Charlie half frowned, half grinned, the sleek blue-furred feline wrapped himself around Charlie’s bare legs and made purring sounds in his throat.
Dom followed as Charlie shyly ambled forward toward the white-haired man in the swing. Jolly caught sight of the boy in his side vision and slowed the motion of the swing to a near standstill. Jolly didn’t act surprised to see Charlie. Nor did he leap up and ask the little boy if he wanted to try out the new swing.
“Give me a push, will you, Charlie?” he called, and the child immediately came to stand directly behind him.
Charlie never saw the look of triumph that flashed in Jolly’s blue eyes when Jolly felt a pair of small hands push insistently on his broad back.
“Wheeee!” squealed Jolly, shoving off with his feet, pretending it was Charlie’s pushing that was sending the swing into motion. “Higher!” he called excitedly. “Make me go higher! I want to go higher!”
Charlie Northway said nothing, but he pushed and he grunted and he ran up and back, up and back, his short legs churning, pushing the laughing man seated in the swing.
After a time Jolly called, “Whoaaa! That’s enough, Charlie,” and brought the swing to a stop.
He got up out of the swing, drew a handkerchief from his pocket, and mopped his red face. From behind that handkerchief he watched slyly as Charlie sidled around and climbed up into the swing. Without a word, Jolly shoved the handkerchief into his pocket, stepped behind the boy in the swing, and gave him a gentle push.
Jolly purposely kept a tight rein on the movement of the swing, knowing that if Charlie was the typical boy, he’d soon long to swing faster, higher. Well, he was going to have to ask for it or he wouldn’t get it.
Each played a waiting game.
The blond boy on the swing clutched the ropes tightly and pumped his short arms and leaned his upper body forward and back, straining to make the swing go faster, higher.
The white-haired man deliberately
Kurt immediately appeared, greeting the older gentleman with the respect he deserved. Purposely speaking loudly enough so that Charlie could hear, Jolly told Kurt he needed to borrow Helen’s saw.
“Sure thing,” said Kurt. “I sharpened it just yesterday. I’ll get it out of the toolshed.”
Jolly followed Kurt, asking, “Any idea where I might find a smooth, thick piece of wood I can saw down till it’s about yea long and yea wide?” He used his hands to measure.
“There are some odds-and-ends lumber stacked against the smokehouse,” said Kurt. “I’m sure we can find something suitable there.”
“Mighty fine,” said Jolly. “Mighty fine. Now just one last little thing. I need a good long length of rope, new enough and strong enough to hold up a person’s weight. A big person, mind you. Got anything like that in the toolshed or the barn?”
“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.”
Kurt didn’t question him as to what he intended to do with the saw, the lumber, and the rope. Jolly knew it wasn’t because Kurt had no interest, but instead because he had already caught on to Jolly’s scheme.
Within the hour a sturdy rope swing hung suspended from a low, sweeping branch of the big live oak tree in the backyard. And a portly, white-haired man was alone in the shady yard, seated in the new swing, swinging gaily back and forth, laughing as though he’d never had so much fun in his life.
From the cover of the plank corral, Kurt Northway crouched on his heels and watched Jolly swing, hoping the ploy would work. Inside the house, Helen stood at the kitchen window, looking anxiously out, the fingers of both hands crossed behind her back.
Finally, after several long minutes, the blond-haired little boy could stand it no longer. Curious, Charlie wandered up to the yard. He paused tentatively at the back gate. The dozing Dom, lying just inside, awakened and eagerly came to greet Charlie, wanting to be his friend. While Charlie half frowned, half grinned, the sleek blue-furred feline wrapped himself around Charlie’s bare legs and made purring sounds in his throat.
Dom followed as Charlie shyly ambled forward toward the white-haired man in the swing. Jolly caught sight of the boy in his side vision and slowed the motion of the swing to a near standstill. Jolly didn’t act surprised to see Charlie. Nor did he leap up and ask the little boy if he wanted to try out the new swing.
“Give me a push, will you, Charlie?” he called, and the child immediately came to stand directly behind him.
Charlie never saw the look of triumph that flashed in Jolly’s blue eyes when Jolly felt a pair of small hands push insistently on his broad back.
“Wheeee!” squealed Jolly, shoving off with his feet, pretending it was Charlie’s pushing that was sending the swing into motion. “Higher!” he called excitedly. “Make me go higher! I want to go higher!”
Charlie Northway said nothing, but he pushed and he grunted and he ran up and back, up and back, his short legs churning, pushing the laughing man seated in the swing.
After a time Jolly called, “Whoaaa! That’s enough, Charlie,” and brought the swing to a stop.
He got up out of the swing, drew a handkerchief from his pocket, and mopped his red face. From behind that handkerchief he watched slyly as Charlie sidled around and climbed up into the swing. Without a word, Jolly shoved the handkerchief into his pocket, stepped behind the boy in the swing, and gave him a gentle push.
Jolly purposely kept a tight rein on the movement of the swing, knowing that if Charlie was the typical boy, he’d soon long to swing faster, higher. Well, he was going to have to ask for it or he wouldn’t get it.
Each played a waiting game.
The blond boy on the swing clutched the ropes tightly and pumped his short arms and leaned his upper body forward and back, straining to make the swing go faster, higher.
The white-haired man deliberately
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