pine needles that make it smell (GIVE OUT A SCENT) good (ATTRACTIVE), bought at the church fair last winter; a toaster which makes your face look fat (PLUMP) and odd if you look into the side of it; and a jar of pale blue glass (CRYSTAL) which sits on the table and holds flowers all summer long.
My best friend (COMRADE) can come there any time she wants, without even knocking, and she is always welcome (RECEIVED WITH OPEN ARMS).
At night, in my home, you can listen in the dark (BLACKNESS) and hear stuff like doves, tree frogs, wind, or rain. That is all outside stuff. But there is inside stuff, too. Sometimes at night, after I am in bed, I can hear my mother, whose name is Sweet Hosanna, singing. She sings in a low voice, so as not to disturb (DISTRESS) me if I'm sleeping, and she sings hymns that she learned in her childhood, from her own mother.
All of those things combined give my home the good feelings that it has. Feelings are the most important (VITAL) thing in a home.
Then I had to copy the whole thing over, and fix up some awkward-sounding stuff, like "give out a scent attractive," which didn't sound right. I changed it to "give out an attractive scent." I figured Mrs. Hindler would see that I was using my own judgment, like she said we should.
Then I helped Veronica with some of her words, since she wasn't done yet. It took a long time, and finally, just as we were finished, Sweet-Ho said, "It's late. You two had better get upstairs to bed."
"Are we sleeping here still?" I asked her.
Sweet-Ho said yes. "Mr. Bigelow thinks we should stay over here while Veronica's mother is away. You don't mind, do you, Rabble?"
I shook my head. I didn't mind at all. I liked it there. But it made my composition seem like a lie. "If
it's going to be for a while, can I move some stuff over from our place?" I asked her. "The blue glass jar, and my dictionary? Small stuff like that?"
"Sure. There are some things of mine I'll want to bring over, too. We can do it tomorrow."
So the composition was okay after all. The feelings would be just the same, and it was like I said: Feelings are the most important thing in a home.
Vital.
7
One week went by after another, and I knew that summer had ended for sure when Sweet-Ho threw away the last of the chrysanthemums from the blue glass jar in our room, poured the water out, and put in a bouquet of dry red leaves from the big oak. The cool weather made Gunther's skin clear up some, so the scabs and rashes faded, and his cheeks turned rosy when he played outside.
Mr. Bigelow took Gunther downtown one Saturday afternoon for new sneakers, and he bought him a green corduroy jacket with a plaid flannel lining and a matching hat with earflaps. Wearing his new green outfit with the hat buckled under his chin, Gunther sat on his daddy's lap and helped steer the car all the way home. We could see him coming up the driveway, steering real careful with his daddy's hands atop of his, and his face all scrunched up serious.
When they got out of the car, Mr. Bigelow reached into the backseat and took out packages. He handed
one to Veronica, one to me, and one to Sweet-Ho. "Surprises!" he said with a big smile on his face.
We opened them up, back in the house, and found he had bought us each a sweater: blue for Veronica, bright yellow for me, and a soft pink for Sweet-Ho. Veronica said "thank you" all nonchalant-likeâshe was used to her daddy bringing her things because he did it all the timeâbut I just stood there, rubbing my hand over the softness of mine, and even though I said it, because I was brought up proper, "thank you" didn't seem enough. I looked over at Sweet-Ho, holding hers in her arms, and could see she was feeling the same way.
Nobody had ever brought Sweet-Ho and me presents when it wasn't even Christmas. It was the first time.
That night, after supper, Veronica said, "We have to plan Halloween costumes. For Gunther, too. Gunther's big enough to go with us this
My best friend (COMRADE) can come there any time she wants, without even knocking, and she is always welcome (RECEIVED WITH OPEN ARMS).
At night, in my home, you can listen in the dark (BLACKNESS) and hear stuff like doves, tree frogs, wind, or rain. That is all outside stuff. But there is inside stuff, too. Sometimes at night, after I am in bed, I can hear my mother, whose name is Sweet Hosanna, singing. She sings in a low voice, so as not to disturb (DISTRESS) me if I'm sleeping, and she sings hymns that she learned in her childhood, from her own mother.
All of those things combined give my home the good feelings that it has. Feelings are the most important (VITAL) thing in a home.
Then I had to copy the whole thing over, and fix up some awkward-sounding stuff, like "give out a scent attractive," which didn't sound right. I changed it to "give out an attractive scent." I figured Mrs. Hindler would see that I was using my own judgment, like she said we should.
Then I helped Veronica with some of her words, since she wasn't done yet. It took a long time, and finally, just as we were finished, Sweet-Ho said, "It's late. You two had better get upstairs to bed."
"Are we sleeping here still?" I asked her.
Sweet-Ho said yes. "Mr. Bigelow thinks we should stay over here while Veronica's mother is away. You don't mind, do you, Rabble?"
I shook my head. I didn't mind at all. I liked it there. But it made my composition seem like a lie. "If
it's going to be for a while, can I move some stuff over from our place?" I asked her. "The blue glass jar, and my dictionary? Small stuff like that?"
"Sure. There are some things of mine I'll want to bring over, too. We can do it tomorrow."
So the composition was okay after all. The feelings would be just the same, and it was like I said: Feelings are the most important thing in a home.
Vital.
7
One week went by after another, and I knew that summer had ended for sure when Sweet-Ho threw away the last of the chrysanthemums from the blue glass jar in our room, poured the water out, and put in a bouquet of dry red leaves from the big oak. The cool weather made Gunther's skin clear up some, so the scabs and rashes faded, and his cheeks turned rosy when he played outside.
Mr. Bigelow took Gunther downtown one Saturday afternoon for new sneakers, and he bought him a green corduroy jacket with a plaid flannel lining and a matching hat with earflaps. Wearing his new green outfit with the hat buckled under his chin, Gunther sat on his daddy's lap and helped steer the car all the way home. We could see him coming up the driveway, steering real careful with his daddy's hands atop of his, and his face all scrunched up serious.
When they got out of the car, Mr. Bigelow reached into the backseat and took out packages. He handed
one to Veronica, one to me, and one to Sweet-Ho. "Surprises!" he said with a big smile on his face.
We opened them up, back in the house, and found he had bought us each a sweater: blue for Veronica, bright yellow for me, and a soft pink for Sweet-Ho. Veronica said "thank you" all nonchalant-likeâshe was used to her daddy bringing her things because he did it all the timeâbut I just stood there, rubbing my hand over the softness of mine, and even though I said it, because I was brought up proper, "thank you" didn't seem enough. I looked over at Sweet-Ho, holding hers in her arms, and could see she was feeling the same way.
Nobody had ever brought Sweet-Ho and me presents when it wasn't even Christmas. It was the first time.
That night, after supper, Veronica said, "We have to plan Halloween costumes. For Gunther, too. Gunther's big enough to go with us this
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