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Authors: Gertrude Chandler Warner
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Greenfield. After dropping their T-shirt contest entries into a mailbox, they turned onto a dirt road. It wasn’t long before they were biking past rolling hills and woods.
“Isn’t it a perfect day to be out in the country?” said Violet, who was riding right beside Jessie. She breathed in the smell of wildflowers as they arrived at a white farmhouse with a big porch.
“I hope they didn’t forget we were coming,” Benny said.
“Mrs. Dawson would never forget about us, Benny,” Jessie assured him.
No sooner had she spoken than the screen door swung open. “Hi, kids!” Mrs. Dawson said with a warm smile. “Amanda can’t wait to meet you.”
The Aldens followed Mrs. Dawson into the living room. A young woman was resting on the couch, flipping through the pages of a magazine. Her bandaged foot was propped up on pillows, and her blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Her face broke into a big smile when she noticed the Aldens.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” Jessie told Amanda Penner.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Amanda said. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your help.”
“No problem,” said Henry. “We like to help.”
Benny was staring at the crutches leaning against the couch.
Amanda grinned. “The truth is, I found them a bit tricky at first, Benny,” she said. “But I get around on those crutches now like a pro.”
“Cool!” Benny’s eyes became wide with interest.
Violet spoke up shyly. “We were sorry to hear about your accident, Amanda.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks, Violet. Besides, I have Mrs. Dawson to keep everything running smoothly around here.”
Just then Amanda’s housekeeper came back into the room. She was carrying a tray with five glasses of apple cider on it.
“Were your ears burning, Mrs. Dawson?” Amanda asked, a twinkle in her eye. “I was just talking about you.”
“I hope you weren’t too hard on me.” Mrs. Dawson laughed as she passed around the drinks. “Actually, I’ve known Amanda since she was knee-high to a grasshopper. She stayed here every summer when she was growing up.”
“I have good memories of those days,” Amanda said, as Mrs. Dawson returned to the kitchen. “There’s a spot in Fudge Hollow—at the back of the property—where a tree fell across the creek. My grandfather and I used to sit there and dangle our feet in the water.” Amanda had a faraway look in her eyes. “That tree is over a hundred years old,” she added. “As old as this house is now.”
“Has this house always been in your family?” Jessie asked.
Amanda nodded. “Ever since 1904,” she said. “Brandon Penner built it for his bride—Dora. As a matter of fact, we still have Dora’s hope chest in the attic.”
Benny wrinkled his forehead. “What’s a hope chest?”
Amanda explained, “In the old days, young girls would make quilts and lace tablecloths and … well, all sorts of things. They stored everything in a chest. They were hoping they’d have a home of their own one day.”
“Oh, I get it,” said Benny, catching on. “That’s why they call it a hope chest.”
“Exactly,” said Amanda.
Henry finished his apple cider. “Well, we should get started on that walkway.”
“That’s true. It’s supposed to be a real scorcher by mid-afternoon.” Amanda leaned heavily on the crutches as she led the children out into the hallway. She paused for a moment by the grandfather clock and nodded towards a framed photograph on the wall. “That’s Dora on her wedding day,” she said.
“Brandon’s bride?” Jessie took a step closer. The photograph showed a pretty girl—tall and slim—in a gown of white. She had a heart-shaped face, and was wearing an orange-blossom wreath in her fair hair.
“Oh!” Violet was peering over Benny’s shoulder. “She looks so … so …”
“Young?” said Amanda, finishing the thought. “Yes, Dora was only sixteen when she became Brandon’s bride. As a matter of fact,
“Isn’t it a perfect day to be out in the country?” said Violet, who was riding right beside Jessie. She breathed in the smell of wildflowers as they arrived at a white farmhouse with a big porch.
“I hope they didn’t forget we were coming,” Benny said.
“Mrs. Dawson would never forget about us, Benny,” Jessie assured him.
No sooner had she spoken than the screen door swung open. “Hi, kids!” Mrs. Dawson said with a warm smile. “Amanda can’t wait to meet you.”
The Aldens followed Mrs. Dawson into the living room. A young woman was resting on the couch, flipping through the pages of a magazine. Her bandaged foot was propped up on pillows, and her blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Her face broke into a big smile when she noticed the Aldens.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” Jessie told Amanda Penner.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Amanda said. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your help.”
“No problem,” said Henry. “We like to help.”
Benny was staring at the crutches leaning against the couch.
Amanda grinned. “The truth is, I found them a bit tricky at first, Benny,” she said. “But I get around on those crutches now like a pro.”
“Cool!” Benny’s eyes became wide with interest.
Violet spoke up shyly. “We were sorry to hear about your accident, Amanda.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks, Violet. Besides, I have Mrs. Dawson to keep everything running smoothly around here.”
Just then Amanda’s housekeeper came back into the room. She was carrying a tray with five glasses of apple cider on it.
“Were your ears burning, Mrs. Dawson?” Amanda asked, a twinkle in her eye. “I was just talking about you.”
“I hope you weren’t too hard on me.” Mrs. Dawson laughed as she passed around the drinks. “Actually, I’ve known Amanda since she was knee-high to a grasshopper. She stayed here every summer when she was growing up.”
“I have good memories of those days,” Amanda said, as Mrs. Dawson returned to the kitchen. “There’s a spot in Fudge Hollow—at the back of the property—where a tree fell across the creek. My grandfather and I used to sit there and dangle our feet in the water.” Amanda had a faraway look in her eyes. “That tree is over a hundred years old,” she added. “As old as this house is now.”
“Has this house always been in your family?” Jessie asked.
Amanda nodded. “Ever since 1904,” she said. “Brandon Penner built it for his bride—Dora. As a matter of fact, we still have Dora’s hope chest in the attic.”
Benny wrinkled his forehead. “What’s a hope chest?”
Amanda explained, “In the old days, young girls would make quilts and lace tablecloths and … well, all sorts of things. They stored everything in a chest. They were hoping they’d have a home of their own one day.”
“Oh, I get it,” said Benny, catching on. “That’s why they call it a hope chest.”
“Exactly,” said Amanda.
Henry finished his apple cider. “Well, we should get started on that walkway.”
“That’s true. It’s supposed to be a real scorcher by mid-afternoon.” Amanda leaned heavily on the crutches as she led the children out into the hallway. She paused for a moment by the grandfather clock and nodded towards a framed photograph on the wall. “That’s Dora on her wedding day,” she said.
“Brandon’s bride?” Jessie took a step closer. The photograph showed a pretty girl—tall and slim—in a gown of white. She had a heart-shaped face, and was wearing an orange-blossom wreath in her fair hair.
“Oh!” Violet was peering over Benny’s shoulder. “She looks so … so …”
“Young?” said Amanda, finishing the thought. “Yes, Dora was only sixteen when she became Brandon’s bride. As a matter of fact,
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