want you to know that there is a time for justice and a time for mercy. God doesn't give us the blessings of life because we deserve them, but because he loves us. Could I do less for my little daughter?"
"Oh, pa!" I cried, and threw my arms around his neck.
He hugged me tightly for a moment. "Here, here," he said, "we haven't much time. Roy, let me work on your hair, and, Reuben, you hitch up Nellie, please."
We all hurried to finish getting ready. That evening was as nice as any I can remember.
The Prettiest House in the County
GRANDMA, UNCLE ROY, and I were sitting around the kitchen table in the old farmhouse. We had just sampled some gingerbread, hot from the oven, and I was listening to grandma and her brother as they talked about the farm.
"The house really could stand some paint, Roy," grandma said. "How long since it's been done?"
Uncle Roy's eyes twinkled as he replied. "It's been painted since the barn has."
Grandma began to laugh, and I knew that they both had remembered something from their childhood.
"Tell me!" I begged. "What happened that was funny?"
"I have to get back out to work, so you'll have to tell her, Mabel," Uncle Roy insisted. Grandma got up to clear the table and began the story....
I was about nine years old when ma began to campaign for the house to be painted. We had lived in this house since pa moved us from the log cabin when I was only four years old. It had not been repainted since then.
"Aren't you just a little bit ashamed of the way this house looks?" she asked pa. "The paint is peeling dreadfully."
"Why, no," pa replied innocently. "I hadn't noticed that it looked too bad. In fact, it looks pretty good to me."
Ma sniffed. "It would look good to you if it were falling down around your ears."
"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say that," pa replied. "I think I'd notice if it fell in on me."
From time to time, ma continued to hint that new paint would be acceptable to her. Pa either didn't hear, or chose to ignore her. Finally, as spring gave way to summer, ma seemed to be getting someplace.
"The garden is in and the spring rains have about ended," she announced one morning. "Do you think the weather will hold for a couple of weeks?"
"I wouldn't be surprised," pa replied. "The almanac doesn't predict any rain for the rest of this month. Things are growing well, though. We need the sunny days for the wheat."
"Then this would be an excellent time to paint!" ma declared triumphantly.
Pa looked out the window. "You know, I think you're right. Maybe I could get a couple of the Carter boys to help me. I think I can pick up the paint while I'm in town Saturday. I wonder how much it will take?"
Ma's mouth dropped open in surprise. She had obviously expected some excuse.
"I'm sure Mr. Clapp could tell you how much you'll need," she said happily. "You can start right away on Monday. What color will you get? ... I think white or pale yellow would look pretty."
"Um, yes," pa murmured. "We'll see. I'll take care of it."
As ma and I cleared the breakfast dishes off the table we discussed the painting.
"I think yellow with white trim would look good," I suggested.
"I'll settle for anything pa brings," ma replied. "I'm so tired of seeing the place look like no one cared about it."
"I can help pa," I offered. "It's a good thing school is out so I'll be right here."
"I'm sure the men won't want you hanging it around," ma replied.
"Oh, ma! I'd be careful. I could paint the back where it won't be seen from the road."
"I'd just as soon my house looked as nice from the back as it does from the front, thank you. It won't be any job for a little girl."
I was disappointed, but I knew that ma's word was law. However, I determined to stay close and watch. It wasn't every day that something exciting happened on our farm.
"We get to help paint," Roy announced at suppertime. "Pa says we're big enough to be of some use around here."
"I'm glad to hear it," ma said. "You can fill up the
"Oh, pa!" I cried, and threw my arms around his neck.
He hugged me tightly for a moment. "Here, here," he said, "we haven't much time. Roy, let me work on your hair, and, Reuben, you hitch up Nellie, please."
We all hurried to finish getting ready. That evening was as nice as any I can remember.
The Prettiest House in the County
GRANDMA, UNCLE ROY, and I were sitting around the kitchen table in the old farmhouse. We had just sampled some gingerbread, hot from the oven, and I was listening to grandma and her brother as they talked about the farm.
"The house really could stand some paint, Roy," grandma said. "How long since it's been done?"
Uncle Roy's eyes twinkled as he replied. "It's been painted since the barn has."
Grandma began to laugh, and I knew that they both had remembered something from their childhood.
"Tell me!" I begged. "What happened that was funny?"
"I have to get back out to work, so you'll have to tell her, Mabel," Uncle Roy insisted. Grandma got up to clear the table and began the story....
I was about nine years old when ma began to campaign for the house to be painted. We had lived in this house since pa moved us from the log cabin when I was only four years old. It had not been repainted since then.
"Aren't you just a little bit ashamed of the way this house looks?" she asked pa. "The paint is peeling dreadfully."
"Why, no," pa replied innocently. "I hadn't noticed that it looked too bad. In fact, it looks pretty good to me."
Ma sniffed. "It would look good to you if it were falling down around your ears."
"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say that," pa replied. "I think I'd notice if it fell in on me."
From time to time, ma continued to hint that new paint would be acceptable to her. Pa either didn't hear, or chose to ignore her. Finally, as spring gave way to summer, ma seemed to be getting someplace.
"The garden is in and the spring rains have about ended," she announced one morning. "Do you think the weather will hold for a couple of weeks?"
"I wouldn't be surprised," pa replied. "The almanac doesn't predict any rain for the rest of this month. Things are growing well, though. We need the sunny days for the wheat."
"Then this would be an excellent time to paint!" ma declared triumphantly.
Pa looked out the window. "You know, I think you're right. Maybe I could get a couple of the Carter boys to help me. I think I can pick up the paint while I'm in town Saturday. I wonder how much it will take?"
Ma's mouth dropped open in surprise. She had obviously expected some excuse.
"I'm sure Mr. Clapp could tell you how much you'll need," she said happily. "You can start right away on Monday. What color will you get? ... I think white or pale yellow would look pretty."
"Um, yes," pa murmured. "We'll see. I'll take care of it."
As ma and I cleared the breakfast dishes off the table we discussed the painting.
"I think yellow with white trim would look good," I suggested.
"I'll settle for anything pa brings," ma replied. "I'm so tired of seeing the place look like no one cared about it."
"I can help pa," I offered. "It's a good thing school is out so I'll be right here."
"I'm sure the men won't want you hanging it around," ma replied.
"Oh, ma! I'd be careful. I could paint the back where it won't be seen from the road."
"I'd just as soon my house looked as nice from the back as it does from the front, thank you. It won't be any job for a little girl."
I was disappointed, but I knew that ma's word was law. However, I determined to stay close and watch. It wasn't every day that something exciting happened on our farm.
"We get to help paint," Roy announced at suppertime. "Pa says we're big enough to be of some use around here."
"I'm glad to hear it," ma said. "You can fill up the
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