sign on the doorbell “Do not ring.” Silently the children climbed the creaking steps to the front porch.
“Do you suppose she’s home?” Eunice whispered to Nancy.
“It certainly doesn’t look like it,” Nancy said.
Marybelle said, “Oh, she’s home. She always keeps her shades down. She says the sunshine fades her carpets.” Boldly she strode up to the front door and knocked.
No one came. Marybelle knocked again, louder, and finally from the back of the house they heard shuffling feet and Miss Gronk opened the front door a crack and whispered hoarsely, “By cold’s buch worse ad I shouldn’t go but a probise is a probise. I’ll be right out. Do doise dow—Baba’s dot well.” She shut the door.
Plum said, “I feel sad as though I was going to a funeral instead of a picnic.”
Nancy said, “Well, anyway, it’s a beautiful day. Let’s start a dandelion chain.”
Quickly the girls jumped off the porch and began pickingthe fat, golden dandelions growing along Miss Gronk’s fence. A robin watched them from a fence post until Miss Gronk’s big white cat climbed up on another fence post to watch the robin.
Marybelle said, “Let’s make a dandelion chain for Miss Gronk.”
Plum said, “She won’t like it.”
Marybelle said, “Oh, she will, too. Miss Gronk’s awfully sweet. I’m going to make her a dandelion necklace.”
When Miss Gronk emerged from the house she was so bundled up, so wrapped in sweaters, scarves, coats and shawls that only her watery eyes were visible.
“Cob od, girls,” she croaked, “pick up your luch bags and let’s get started.”
Marybelle ran up to her and said, “Bend down, Miss Gronk. I want to slip this beautiful dandelion chain around your neck.”
Miss Gronk said, “Heaveds do, Barybelle, dadeliods give be hay fever.” She turned to the other children who wore dandelion crowns, necklaces and bracelets. “I’ll have to ask you to throw away all those dadeliods,” she said. “I’b allergic to dadeliods.”
Morosely the girls took off their crowns, bracelets and necklaces and threw them away.
“All right, lide up,” Miss Gronk commanded. “Barybelle will walk with be. The rest of you stay in sigle file. Dow barch.”
Like a funeral procession they started. First the old clothes bundle that was Miss Gronk, and Marybelle, then the ten little girls of the Sunday-School class, then Nipper, Miss Gronk’s half-blind, very old dog.
The sky was a deep clear blue, the air was fragrant with apple blossoms and newly ploughed earth, birds chirped and trilled from every bush, chipmunks skittered around and around the tree trunks like stripes on a barber pole and the grass in the meadows billowed off into the distance in big soft rolling waves like the sea. It was a perfect day for a picnic. Plum wanted to run and sing and jump over a fence and climb a tree. Nancy wanted to lie on her back and look at the sky through the pink apple blossoms and listen to the birds. But Miss Gronk wanted to walk as slowly and as silently as a turtle and so that is what they did.
Plum said, “I hate Miss Gronk. She’s spoiling the whole day.”
Nancy said, “Let’s pretend that underneath all those old coats and scarves and shawls is really a beautiful princess and if we believe in her and don’t get angry with her, when we get to Lookout Hill she’ll shed those old clothes and emerge all golden and beautiful.”
Plum said, “All right, but how do you know we’re going to Lookout Hill?”
Nancy said, “I just feel that we are and anyway the turnoff is ahead just a little way.”
Plum said, “One thing I’m glad of. Old Marybelle’s having a terrible time. I noticed that her eyes are already watering from the fumes of the horse liniment and she has to hold Miss Gronk’s hand and you know how cold and damp Miss Gronk’s hands always are.”
Nancy said, “Oh, Plum, you shouldn’t say anything aboutthe Princess. She is terribly sensitive about the ugly
“Do you suppose she’s home?” Eunice whispered to Nancy.
“It certainly doesn’t look like it,” Nancy said.
Marybelle said, “Oh, she’s home. She always keeps her shades down. She says the sunshine fades her carpets.” Boldly she strode up to the front door and knocked.
No one came. Marybelle knocked again, louder, and finally from the back of the house they heard shuffling feet and Miss Gronk opened the front door a crack and whispered hoarsely, “By cold’s buch worse ad I shouldn’t go but a probise is a probise. I’ll be right out. Do doise dow—Baba’s dot well.” She shut the door.
Plum said, “I feel sad as though I was going to a funeral instead of a picnic.”
Nancy said, “Well, anyway, it’s a beautiful day. Let’s start a dandelion chain.”
Quickly the girls jumped off the porch and began pickingthe fat, golden dandelions growing along Miss Gronk’s fence. A robin watched them from a fence post until Miss Gronk’s big white cat climbed up on another fence post to watch the robin.
Marybelle said, “Let’s make a dandelion chain for Miss Gronk.”
Plum said, “She won’t like it.”
Marybelle said, “Oh, she will, too. Miss Gronk’s awfully sweet. I’m going to make her a dandelion necklace.”
When Miss Gronk emerged from the house she was so bundled up, so wrapped in sweaters, scarves, coats and shawls that only her watery eyes were visible.
“Cob od, girls,” she croaked, “pick up your luch bags and let’s get started.”
Marybelle ran up to her and said, “Bend down, Miss Gronk. I want to slip this beautiful dandelion chain around your neck.”
Miss Gronk said, “Heaveds do, Barybelle, dadeliods give be hay fever.” She turned to the other children who wore dandelion crowns, necklaces and bracelets. “I’ll have to ask you to throw away all those dadeliods,” she said. “I’b allergic to dadeliods.”
Morosely the girls took off their crowns, bracelets and necklaces and threw them away.
“All right, lide up,” Miss Gronk commanded. “Barybelle will walk with be. The rest of you stay in sigle file. Dow barch.”
Like a funeral procession they started. First the old clothes bundle that was Miss Gronk, and Marybelle, then the ten little girls of the Sunday-School class, then Nipper, Miss Gronk’s half-blind, very old dog.
The sky was a deep clear blue, the air was fragrant with apple blossoms and newly ploughed earth, birds chirped and trilled from every bush, chipmunks skittered around and around the tree trunks like stripes on a barber pole and the grass in the meadows billowed off into the distance in big soft rolling waves like the sea. It was a perfect day for a picnic. Plum wanted to run and sing and jump over a fence and climb a tree. Nancy wanted to lie on her back and look at the sky through the pink apple blossoms and listen to the birds. But Miss Gronk wanted to walk as slowly and as silently as a turtle and so that is what they did.
Plum said, “I hate Miss Gronk. She’s spoiling the whole day.”
Nancy said, “Let’s pretend that underneath all those old coats and scarves and shawls is really a beautiful princess and if we believe in her and don’t get angry with her, when we get to Lookout Hill she’ll shed those old clothes and emerge all golden and beautiful.”
Plum said, “All right, but how do you know we’re going to Lookout Hill?”
Nancy said, “I just feel that we are and anyway the turnoff is ahead just a little way.”
Plum said, “One thing I’m glad of. Old Marybelle’s having a terrible time. I noticed that her eyes are already watering from the fumes of the horse liniment and she has to hold Miss Gronk’s hand and you know how cold and damp Miss Gronk’s hands always are.”
Nancy said, “Oh, Plum, you shouldn’t say anything aboutthe Princess. She is terribly sensitive about the ugly
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