Read Online The House Without a Christmas Tree by Gail Rock - Free Book Online Page B

fingernails turning black and all of my long, brown hair dropping off on the ground behind me as I ran—all because I didn’t eat my oatmeal before I went outside.
    The only reason Grandma let me out that morning was that I had promised to be back in ten minutes. I wanted to run uptown to the post office and see if the special mail I was expecting had come. I ran the three blocks, burst through the post office door and stood gasping in front of our box, hoping to get the combination right the first time.
    We had an old post office in Clear River, and the boxes were finicky. If you didn’t get the dial turned to the exact place where the number clicked in, the box wouldn’t open, and you’d have to start over again. Our combination was 3 to the right, 6½ to the left and 8½ to the right. I missed twice, and finally took off my gloves. I rubbed my hands together vigorously and tried to think of myself as a safecracker. I turned the dial delicately right, then left, then right again, and it finally clicked open.
    There, with the other mail, was the pink “package” slip I had been waiting for. I ran to the window with it and asked Mrs. Dillon, the postmistress, if I could please have my package. She handed me a big manila envelope addressed to me, “Miss Adelaide Mills.” Up in the corner was the return address, “Hollywood, USA.” I ripped it open, and stood there looking at the photograph with an ecstatic expression on my face.
    â€œLooks like something good,” Mrs. Dillon said, smiling.
    â€œIt’s terrific!” I said, and turned the photo so she could see it.
    â€œMy!” she said. “That’s something!”
    â€œI gotta go,” I said, and tore out the door so I could get home within the promised ten minutes. Otherwise Grandma would be ready to send out the county sheriff to look for the starving child who hadn’t eaten her oatmeal before leaving the house.
    I barreled through the kitchen and dumped the other mail on the table in front of Dad and Grandma.
    â€œIt came, it came, it came!” I shouted.
    â€œMy Glory! What a racket!” said Grandma. “What came?”
    â€œFrom Roy Rogers!”
    â€œThat all?” said Dad, going through the other mail. “Thought somebody left you a million dollars.”
    â€œThis is worth more than money to me,” I said. “Look at it!” I held it up for them to see.
    â€œSure looks like Roy Rogers,” Dad said sarcastically. For some reason he was not thrilled by Roy Rogers.
    â€œAll dressed up in his fancy duds,” said Grandma, admiring the photo. She understood because she had loved horses too, when she was a girl.
    â€œAnd look at Trigger, Dad. Isn’t he nifty?”
    Dad looked skeptically at the photo. He was always hearing hints about horses from me, and he did his best to ignore them.
    â€œIt’s autographed!” I said.
    Dad squinted at it and read, “Keep smilin’, Roy Rogers. Trigger, Smartest horse in the movies.”
    â€œSit down and eat, Addie,” said Grandma, giving me the quick once-over to see if I had suffered any ill effects from traveling six blocks without breakfast.
    I propped the photo against the sugar bowl so I could look at it as I ate. “I’m going to put this on my bedroom wall where I can look at it first thing in the morning, when I wake up.”
    â€œIt’s your Grandmother’s bedroom too,” said Dad. “She might not like that cowboy on her wall.”
    â€œI don’t mind,” Grandma smiled. “I like Roy Rogers movies. They always have happy endings.”
    â€œYeah,” I said, “but Roy and Dale always spoil it at the end by acting icky with each other.”
    â€œThat’s a happy ending!” said Grandma.
    â€œYuck!” I replied emphatically, and finished my oatmeal in a hurry. Dad was putting on his coat and getting ready to go uptown for some