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Barnes, Culmer. “A Bird with a Basket.” Original title: “The Greedy Pelican.” In
Birds of the Treetops and Fowls of the Air. Chicago: The Madison Book Co.,
1903.
Byron, May. “The Green Woodpecker.” In The Bird Book. New York: Hodder &
Stoughton, 1910.
Miller, Olive Beaupre (Ed.). “The Cap That Mother Made: A Swedish Tale.” In
My Book House: Up One Pair of Stairs, 2:12–18. Chicago, IL: Book House for
Children, 1920.
Orton, Helen Fuller. Bobby of Cloverfield Farm. New York: Frederick A. Stokes
Company, 1922.
Richards, Laura E. “The Good Mother Eider-Duck.” In Four Feet, Two Feet, and
No Feet: Furry and Feathery Pets and How They Live, 5–6. Boston: Dana
Estes, 1885.
Ropes, Mary E. “Barry, A Dog of the Alps.” In My Book House: Up One Pair of
Stairs, 2:88–89. Chicago, IL: Book House for Children, 1920.
Seyfert, Ella Maie. Little Amish Schoolhouse. New York: Thomas Y. Crowell Co.,
1939.
Spyri, Johanna. The Rose Child. Translated by Helen B. Dole. New York: Thomas
Y. Crowell Co., 1916.
Wallower, Lucille. Native Americans: How They Lived. Original title: Indians of
Pennsylvania. State College, PA: Penns Valley Publishers, 1956.
Table of Contents
Native Americans: How They Lived. . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

Barry, A Dog of the Alps. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49
The Cap That Mother Made. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52
A Bird with a Basket. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59
The Good Mother Eider-Duck. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61
Bobby of Cloverfield Farm. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64
The Green Woodpecker. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155
Little Amish Schoolhouse. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157
The Rose Child . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 286
A Delaware Native
American Village
Chapter 1
A Native American Village
When Christopher Columbus sailed west from

the country of Spain looking for a short way to
India, he found the land now called the Caribbean
Islands. However, Columbus thought he had found
India. He called the dark-skinned people he saw
there “Indians.” The native people all through-
out North and South America became known as
Indians, but today we call them Native Americans.
Many years ago, only Native Americans lived
in the land we call the state of Pennsylvania. There
were no towns, cities, or farms. There were only
a few Native American villages and gardens. The
land was covered with thick forests. A Native
American wigwam may have stood where your
house stands now! Native American children may
have played games where you play today!
3
Native Americans: How They Lived
There were many tribes of Native Americans in

Pennsylvania. A tribe is a group of families related
to one another. Each tribe had its own chief and
rules. Each tribe had its own ways of dressing and
doing things. Every tribe had its own speech, too.
Different tribes had to make signs or draw pictures
to talk with one another. Sometimes when Native
Americans had special news, they painted the
message on a tree to tell other Native Americans.
Native Americans who lived in Pennsylvania
are sometimes called Eastern Woodland Native
Americans. In those days Pennsylvania was all
forest land. Native Americans lived in villages in
the forest.
Each family from this area lived in a house
4
A Native American Village
called a wigwam. The wigwam was made of young

trees covered with bark. There were no tables or
chairs in the wigwam. The family sat on the floor.
At mealtime, each had his own place, his own bowl
and spoon.
There were no closets or cupboards. Above the
bed a shelf was built; this was used to store baskets
and bundles of things. Dried food, such as corn,
was hung on poles.
There was a place for every person’s belong-
ings. Mother had a place for her clothes and her
housekeeping things. Father had a place for his
clothes, his tools, pipes, and hunting things. The
boys and girls in the family had special places for
their clothes and toys. To keep a wigwam tidy, each
person had to put his things back in place.
Sometimes two, three, or more families lived
together. They lived in a wigwam made longer.
It was called a “longhouse.” A longhouse was
about 21 feet wide and 100 feet long. The people
of the Iroquois Nation lived in whole villages of
longhouses.
The Woodland Native Americans had many
footpaths through the forest. Main trails led from
5
one village to another. They did not have horses;

they walked or traveled in canoes on the creeks
and rivers.
The trails were well planned. The paths followed
rivers through gaps in the mountains. Sometimes
the paths went through almost hidden gaps.
Other times the paths went through creeks or
rivers where the water was low. The paths were
good ways of getting from one place to another as
quickly as possible.
Eastern Woodland Native Americans went
hunting or warring in the forest. They traded with
other tribes, and they visited relatives and friends.
In those days the forest was a busy place.
6
Chapter 2
Native American Men
Everyone in an Eastern Woodland Native

American village had work to do. The men cleared
the land and built the wigwams. They did not
have steel axes, saws, plows, or the help of oxen
or horses. The men had to make all their tools—
knives, hatchets, and hammers. They made the
tools from hard stones, shells, bone, and wood.
To cut down a tree, one common method
was to burn the tree near the base. Then, using
short-handled hatchets, the men chopped through
the charred wood. The stumps of the trees were left
in the ground.
The men made canoes from trees. Pennsylvania
Native Americans made a canoe called a “dugout.”
It was really dug out of a tree. It was hard work to
make a canoe and took several days.
7
The men hunted and fished. This was not for

sport. Tribes needed fish, birds, and animals for
food. They needed animal skins and bird feathers
for clothing and blankets. The most important
animal hunted was the white-tailed deer. The
turkey was the most important bird hunted.
Feathers, claws, and animal teeth were used for
decoration.
Bones made tools of many kinds. The tendons of
deer made thread or cord. The tendons of the deer’s
back were best for this use. Almost every part of a
bird or animal was used; nothing was wasted.
8
Native American Men
Of course, the men made their own bows and

arrows. The wood of the locust tree was best for
this. Arrow points and spears were made from
sharp stones. Fishhooks were made from bird or
animal bones.
You see how skillful a Native American had
to be with his hands! He had to know how to use
his eyes and his sense of smell and hearing to be a
good hunter. Like fathers today, a Native American
man provided for his family. He also took care of
his family in times of danger.
9
Some Animals Native

Americans Hunted
10
Native American Men
Wampum
When only Native Americans lived in the

Pennsylvanian forests, wampum was a very
precious thing. The first wampum may have been
beads made from wood or beads made from
porcupine or bird quills. Most wampum, however,
was beads made from shell and woven into strings
or belts. Great chiefs wore wampum beads sewn on
their deerskin shirts, leggings, or moccasins.
Wampum was not used exactly as we use
money today. Wampum was a valuable symbol
or token; it stood for goodwill and was thought
to bring good fortune. Or, as in the case of black
wampum, it was a token of trouble.
The most valuable wampum was made from
shell. White wampum was made from the inner
part of the whelk shell. The rare purple wampum
was made from the inner part of a clamshell. One
purple bead was worth four white beads.
Shell breaks very easily. It took great care and
skill to make the beads from shell. Sometimes it
took a whole day to make one bead. Older men in
the village usually made the wampum.
11
Strings of wampum were almost as long as

a hand can stretch. These strings were put into
bundles of ten. They were used in trading.
White and purple strings of wampum were
used as name strings. So many white and so many
purple beads meant a certain name.
Wampum was also used to send messages. These
wampum strings were often tied to little sticks. The
sticks were cut or notched to show in how many
days and nights an answer was expected.
No Native American received a gift without
giving wampum in return as a token of friendship
and to keep away evil.
Wampum belts were used for important events.
A wampum belt helped a chief to remember the
history of his tribe. The beads in these belts were
woven into certain patterns or pictures. These
pictures might be squares, diamonds, lines, animals,
houses, people, hatchets, and other things. Each
picture had a meaning well known to local tribes.
Each belt told one story. When a treaty was
being talked over, many wampum belts were used
to tell about the agreements wanted. One Native
American was in charge of one belt; he told about
12
Native American Men
the part of the agreement wanted as it was pictured

on his belt. It took a number of belts and a number
of Native Americans to explain everything that was
wanted!
At a peace treaty, white wampum belts were
exchanged. If war was declared between two tribes
that had given each other white belts, the warring
tribe would paint the belt red. Then a war runner
would take it to the other tribe.
Native Americans also used wampum in cere-
monies. Sometimes great chiefs were given a belt
or collar made of wampum beads as an honor.
Making Wampum
13
Chapter 3
Native American Women
The Eastern Woodland Native American

woman, as mother and gardener, was an important
person of the household.
The women kept house much the same as
women do today. The work of keeping house then,
however, was more difficult. The women cooked the
meat and fish the hunters brought.
The women gathered certain grasses, roots, and
tree bark for food. All the wild berries, such as
strawberries, raspberries, and gooseberries, were
gathered. Those not eaten at once were dried and
stored in baskets. Nuts were a favorite food. Acorns
and chestnuts were ground into flour. Seeds of many
kinds were eaten. Many of these foods had to be
prepared in special ways to make them good to eat.
The women also planted and tended the
14
gardens. Corn, beans, and squash were the main

local foods.
The biggest crop was corn, or maize. Corn was
planted when the white oak leaves were as big as
a mouse’s ear. It was planted in little mounds of
earth. A dead fish, ashes, and shells were dropped
into the earth with the seed. When the corn began
to grow, it had to be weeded and hoed. Hoes were
made of bone or stone, or a hoe could be a big
clamshell fastened with sinew to a stick.
Platforms were built in the cornfields, and men
with bows and arrows scared away the deer and
elk that were fond of eating the growing corn.
15
Children helped to scare away the crows and

blackbirds.
The common corn of the Eastern Native
Americans was a soft white corn, sometimes called
Tuscarora corn. The corn was used in many ways.
The women pounded corn kernels into flour, or
cornmeal, which was white and floury. The flour
was mixed with water and shaped into cakes. The
corn cakes were either boiled or baked on a hot
stone in the fire. Berries were sometimes baked in
the cakes. Corn cakes were a favorite food in many
tribes. The Iroquois Native Americans are said to
have had 50 ways of using corn.
Every part of the cornstalk was used. The hulled
corn was hung in bunches of a dozen ears or so
from poles in the wigwam. Through the long
winter evenings, men, women, and children would
make use of the husks. After wetting the husks,
families would make baskets, mats, dolls, masks,
and other toys from them. Corncobs made pipes
and brushes.
The women made their own cooking pots and
dishes of clay. The clay had to be dug and picked
clean of stones. Then the clay was mixed with the
16
right powdered rock, sand, and shell so that it

wouldn’t crack when baked.
The women took a big lump of clay and beat
it with a paddle against the palm of their hands
to shape the pot. The sides of the pot were made
very thin. It took great care to make a pot in this
way. It would be very hard for you to make a pot in
this manner. Decorations were put on the pot by
covering the paddle with cord. This made crisscross
marks or other designs on the clay. Then the pot was
covered with hot embers and baked.
Delaware Native American women made their
clay cooking pots with pointed bottoms. Stones
17
were used to prop up a pot so that it wouldn’t tip.

Sometimes, a mother surprised a child by making
a bowl shaped like a rabbit, turtle, or some other
animal. Spoons were made from wood, shell, or
turtle shells.
The noonday meal was usually the first of the
day in some tribes. Each person had his own bowl,
spoon, and knife. There were no forks. Food was
ladled into each bowl from the cooking pot. Each
one sat on the ground and held his dish in his lap.
Each person was expected to eat everything in his
dish. Each one was expected to show his liking for
the food and never to show his dislike. After the
meal, everyone cleaned his own bowl and put his
things away.
Ways Native Americans Cooked

18
Chapter 4
The Clothes of
Native Americans
All the clothes of Eastern Woodland Native

Americans were made by hand. Deerskin outlasted
any cloth made today. It didn’t soil easily or tear
on sharp thorns and branches. It was warm and
nice to wear. In rain, however, it was quickly wet
through.
To make deerskin ready to wear, it must be
tanned. The women scraped the skin to make it
clean and thin. This was long, hard work. Then the
skin was smoked over a fire. The smoke made the
skin into leather so that it was now soft but strong.
The smoke colored the skin. It could be smoked
yellow, tan, brown, or black. The Delaware Native
Americans liked black buckskin.
Many tribes dyed the deerskin. Sometimes the
19
deer tail was left on the skin for decoration. Each

tribe had its own way of making skins clean and
comfortable to wear.
Animal skins with fur also had to be made clean
and ready to wear. We say furs are “dressed,” not
“tanned.” Scarves, hats, robes, and dresses were
made of furs. They were worn when it was cold.
Winter moccasins were made with the fur turned
inside. Furs were used for decoration, too.
Native Americans made their own colors from
plants and minerals. They had to try many things
and many ways to make a color they liked. Making
colors took care and patience.
20
The Clothes of Native Americans
Dyes were made to color clothes. Native

Americans used plants to make dye. They first
crushed then boiled the plants in water. Native
Americans made dyes so well that they did not run
21
or fade. Sometimes, certain tribes used the juice of

the wild crab apple tree to fix the dye.
Paint could be made from colored clay and
from stones. There was red and yellow clay. White
came from clays and powdered limestone. Dry,
powdered colors were often kept in skin bags.
Sunflower seed oil or bear’s grease could be mixed
with the powdered color to make paint.
Deer tendons were used for thread. Tendons
fasten bones to muscles. A woman dried the deer
tendons. Then she pounded the tendons to soften
them. With a sharp piece of flint, she cut the
tendons into threads. These threads were always
soaked in water. The threads were called “sinew.”
The Native American woman used the sinew while
wet. With a sharp tool called an awl, the Eastern
Woodland Native American woman punched
holes in a deerskin. Then she pulled the wet sinew
thread through the holes. When the thread dried,
it pulled the skin tight. Sinew does not rot or fray
like the thread we know.
The Eastern Woodland Native Americans wore
moccasins. A moccasin was made from one piece
of soft deerskin. A single seam was made running
22
from the toe up the instep and held in gathers over

the toe. The flaps at the top of the moccasin and
the pointed patch in front were cut separately.
Each tribe made and decorated moccasins in
its own way. Moccasins were very comfortable but
did not wear long. A Native American always took
several pairs on a long trip in case one pair became
wet or worn.
Porcupine quills were first used to decorate
moccasins. Moose hair was also used. Later,
when the settlers traded with Native Americans,
beads were used. Native Americans wanted their
23
moccasins to be beautiful. Many thought that the

foot must be as beautiful as the flowers among
which it walked.
Captives who were to be adopted into a tribe
were given new moccasins to wear. This was done
so that their feet would walk the right path. To put
on the moccasins of another tribe was to become a
member of that tribe.
Quill Embroidery
Porcupine quills were dyed many colors—red,

yellow, blue, green, and black. One color at a time
was used. Native Americans did not mix two
colors to get another color as we do.
When the worker was ready to use the quills,
she soaked them in water. Then she took each
quill, nipped off the sharp end, and flattened the
quill with a smooth bone. Sometimes the quills
were sewn on the deerskin. Sometimes the worker
24
put holes in the skin with an awl and then would

stick the quills through the holes. She turned down
each end so that the quill wouldn’t slip. Because the
quills were stiff, designs had to be made in squares
and angles. A circle design could not be made.
25
Chapter 5
How Native American Children

Learned Their Lessons
Eastern Woodland Native American children

did not go to school, but they had many lessons
to learn. The very first lesson a child was taught
was that the Great Spirit, whom Christians know
as God, gave him life. The child was taught that
he was made for a good purpose; his duty was to
show thankfulness.
The second lesson was that the child should
look up to and respect all older people. Older
people had lived a long time and were wiser than
children. Also, the child was taught to be kind to
old people so that when he became old, children
would treat him kindly, too.
Third, the child was taught that his good acts
pleased the Great Spirit who gave him all good
26
How Native American Children Learned Their Lessons
things. Bad acts gained him nothing, for nothing

good could come of them; only the good Great Spirit
gave good things. If a child did not listen and learn,
he was told that he would have bad luck all his life.
A child was taught that he was not better
than fish, birds, or animals, only stronger. Many
Eastern Woodland Native Americans believed that
animals had spirits, too. Here on the earth, men
and animals were at war because men needed the
animals for food and clothing, but after death,
Native Americans expected to meet the spirits of
the animals when they all joined their forefathers
in the spirit world.
A baby was kept in a baby frame. The child
was wrapped in a blanket and tied fast to the
frame. Over the baby’s head, there was a wide
wooden hoop. This would protect the
baby’s head if he fell. Playthings were
hung from the hoop. Many Native
Americans believed that a child would
grow strong and straight tied to the
board. The baby could not wave his
arms or kick. In this way, the Native
American child learned patience.
27
Boys and girls had to learn how to live. A

mother would say to her child, “Keep away from
the fire. Fire will hurt you.”
“I don’t believe it!” the child might say to
himself and would pick up a hot stone.
The Native American mother did not cry,
“Don’t do that! No, no!” She let the child pick up
the hot stone and be burned. That was how a child
learned. If the danger was too great, the mother
would tell the child before he was hurt.
A child was rarely given anything he cried for.
The smallest child was taught to ask politely for the
things he wanted. Native Americans loved their
children, but they did not spoil them. For pun-
ishment, a child was not whipped. He was often,
however, splashed with water or dunked in the
cold water of the river or creek.
A little girl was given such toys as dolls, little
dishes, lumps of clay to make pots, and reeds to
make baskets. She played at keeping house. A little
girl was taught to help her mother. She gathered
wood, helped to plant the garden, helped to grind
corn, and helped to cook the food.
Parents praised their children for doing their
28
tasks. A pleased mother might say, “May the Great

Spirit, who looks upon him, grant this good child a
long life!”
Very little boys were taught to go in the water,
even if it was cold. The water was thought to help
make the boy become a good man as well as a
strong one. Also, boys soon learned not to cry, not
even if they were in pain.
The older men of the village taught boys their
lessons. As soon as a boy was four or five years old,
he was given a bow and arrow. First, the boy shot
at a mark, a bear’s paw hung from a tree. When
the boy could hit the bear’s paw, he passed to the
second grade. In second grade he tried to shoot a
small bird. The Iroquois Native Americans had five
grades in hunting.
29
A boy had to learn to find the best wood to

make bows and arrows, how to make arrow points,
how to make a fire, and all the things a man must
know to become a good hunter and a warrior.
Boys ran races and wrestled to grow strong.
They climbed trees to train their eyes. Each boy
tried to see something far away from the tree that
another boy did not.
Native American boys were also taught how to
30
make little speeches. They went with their parents

to council meetings. The boys listened to the men
make speeches and tell stories; then they tried to
do so as well.
Bands, or tribes, of boys were formed. The
tribes would have contests. Often they played war
games. An older man was in charge of these boys
very much as a Scout leader is in charge of Boy
Scouts.
Children were taught to be neat. Playthings had
to be put in their right places. If not, the toys could
be swept into the garbage hole.
Boys and girls soon learned to be polite to their
playmates as well as to older people. A child listened
when another spoke to him. He waited until the
other person was finished talking before he spoke. A
boy or girl was especially kind and polite to grand-
mothers and grandfathers.
All Native American boys and girls learned
about nature. They learned about the wild foods
that were safe to eat. They learned the ways of the
animals they needed for food and clothing. They
learned the tracks of the animals, their habits,
and their hiding places. They learned to know by
31
signs, such as a broken twig or pressed moss, that

an animal or person had passed by on a trail. A
wise tracker would know whether the person was
a man, woman, or child, and whether the person
had been walking or running. He knew this by
the marks left on the trail. Eyes, ears, the sense of
touch, and smell were trained to be keen.
Of course, most boys and girls learned to swim.
They learned how to disappear into the water and
get away from an enemy. Both boys and girls had
to know how to handle a canoe or dugout. Also, a
32
child had to learn how to walk without making a

sound.
Besides all this, Native American boys and
girls learned the legends and the religion of their
tribes. No, Native American children did not go to
a school with walls, but they were busy learning all
the many things they needed to know to help them
live good, useful lives—just as you learn today.
33
Chapter 6
The Work of Everyone
Native Americans had never heard of matches,

but they knew how to make a fire. They knew how
to build a small hot fire. Such a fire could be had in
a wigwam without danger. Outside, it did not set
the woods on fire.
34
When the European settlers first came to this

country, they used a piece of flint and steel to
make fire. Flint made a big spark when struck
against a piece of steel. Native Americans had not
learned how to make steel from iron. They had
not learned to use some of the minerals we dig out
of the earth today, but they did know how to use
many other things found in the woods, such as the
hard maple tree.
Maple Sugaring Time
We get sugar from sugar cane or beets. Native

Americans did not know about these plants, but
Native Americans who lived near hard maple trees
had maple sugar.
When the spring sun warms the earth, the
sap in trees runs up from the roots through the
trunks and branches. The sap of the hard maple
tree is sweet. Part of the sap can be taken without
hurting the tree. Many Eastern Woodland Native
Americans made the sap into sugar.
Maple sugaring time was in February or early
March. Usually snow was still on the ground. A
group of people would go into the woods where
35
the maples grew. Sometimes this was close to

the local village. Sometimes the maple grove was
far away. Then it meant packing dried meat and
corn to take along for food and making shelters
to stay for several days and nights in the maple
grove.
It took a long time for the buckets to fill with
sap. In the meantime the men went hunting or
fishing, the boys practiced with their bows and
arrows, and the girls gathered wood for the fires.
The women kept the fires burning, carried the
buckets of sap, and stirred the sap so that it would
not burn.
A woman tested the syrup. With a spoon of
horn or shell, she dipped up some of the syrup and
then poured it right on the snow. If the syrup was
cooked enough, it would harden. You may be sure
that the children rushed to eat the sticky maple
candy! When the maple sugar was formed, it was
cooled and made into cakes. Then it was stored
away in baskets or pots.
The sap stopped flowing each night as it got
colder. The next day as the sun warmed the trees,
the sap tapping and boiling would continue until
36
the tribe had a good crop of sap. Once the buds

on the maple trees started to swell and grow, the
trees stopped giving sap. Sap gives life to a tree.
37
Chapter 7
Religion
Eastern Woodland Native Americans believed

that the Great Spirit had made the earth and all
that is on it. This great power we call God. The
different Native American tribes called the Great
Spirit by different names. All Native Americans
prayed to the Great Spirit and thanked Him for His
goodness.
Native Americans in Pennsylvania believed that
the Great Spirit made man. They believed that he
gave life to everything. They believed that all things
were, in a way, alive. They thought that each bird,
fish, and animal had a spirit or soul just as man
does. They thought trees and plants had spirits,
too. These Native Americans expected to meet the
spirits of all these living things in the Spirit Land
where their forefathers had gone before them.
38
Religion
Many Eastern Woodland Native Americans

believed that the Great Spirit had helpers—
Thunder, Fire, Water, Wind, and others. The Spirit
of Fire carried their prayers to the Great Spirit. For
this reason, a person would sprinkle a few crushed
tobacco leaves on the fire as a thank offering to the
Great Spirit.
Many Eastern Woodland Native Americans also
believed that the Great Spirit had an evil brother
who made such things as plants that are poison.
Many thought that the evil brother also made the
darkness. They believed that evil spirits caused
sickness.
Many Native Americans in Pennsylvania
believed in different spirits other than the good
and evil powers. For example, some believed in
a Keeper of the Game, a spirit who lived in the
forest. Perhaps he was half Native American and
half deer, or half bear. The Keeper of the Game
took care of the animals that local tribes hunted.
The Keeper of the Game caused bad luck for the
hunter who did not do the right things. He gave
game to the good hunter.
Some Native Americans also believed in the
39
Masked Spirits who lived in the woods. The

Masked Spirits cured disease. The Spirits did this
through a person wearing a mask and dancing
around the sick person.
By the place of the stars in the sky, many
Native Americans knew when to gather plants for
medicine. They told time by the sun, moon, and
stars, and they planted their crops by the time of
the moon and the places of the stars. Gathering
reeds for making baskets, killing certain animals
so that the meat would keep well, and picking fruit
were all done at certain times of the moon.
Many Native Americans believed that after
death the spirit went on a long journey until it
reached the Spirit Land. For this reason, they
buried with the dead person his favorite belong-
ings. They also put things in the grave to help him
in his journey.
Most Native Americans lived as they believed.
Their religion was not different from the way they
acted—they were a kindly people, they were good
to their children, women were treated well, and
they were kind to one another. It was usually only
in war that some Native Americans were cruel.
40
Religion
Songs and Dances
Many Native Americans in Pennsylvania made

up and sang a song for a real purpose. Some did
not think it right to sing a song without a reason.
There was a song of war, a song of peace, and a
song of thanksgiving. There was also a dance song,
a planting-time song, a lullaby, a love song, and a
chant of hate.
A man or woman, boy or girl who made up a
song might say no one else may sing it. Of course
some songs were good, and some you could not
understand!
Some songs of the Iroquois were pleasing and
41
had beautiful tunes. Dancing songs were “catching”

when sung to the sounds of rattles and drums.
Most Native Americans believed that a song
might bring the help of the spirits of nature. A
song pleasing to the Moon might bring her help. A
song pleasing to the Sun might bring his help. That
is why many Native Americans sang to everything.
For some ceremonies, Native Americans sang
together. The words and music had to be learned
by heart. If anyone made a mistake, some of the
songs must be sung again.
Most Native Americans had many dances.
Like the songs, every dance had a meaning.
Sometimes the dance was part of the native
religion. Sometimes it was a victory or war dance.
Sometimes Native Americans danced for fun.
Costumes, false faces, and painted faces were
often used in the dances. Many dances were in
single file to the music of drums, rattles, and
singers.
Dancers moved their bodies as well as their
hands and feet. In war dances, the dancers gave wild
war whoops. The dances were held in the council
house or out of doors around a fire or war post.
42
Religion
Why They Painted Their Faces
The Eastern Woodland Native American

painted his face for special reasons: first, to please
the spirits and get their help; second, to frighten
evil spirits and enemies; third, to make his tribe
see that he understood the art; fourth, to please
himself. Many Native Americans wanted to look
powerful! The face was also painted in honor of
certain spirits to keep away sickness.
Every clan and dance had its own style of
painting the face. Chiefs and other leaders had
their special face designs. Each color of paint for
the face meant something:
Black—death
Red—power and success
Blue—defeat and trouble
Yellow—joy, travel, bravery
White—peace
The Iroquois Native Americans painted each
cheek with a spot of red when they danced in
honor of the Great Sky Eagle. For the Bear Dance,
a person painted the right cheek black. Warriors
painted four red streaks upon the face from the
43
eyes down the cheeks; this meant that the Thunder

God had given them great power. The Iroquois also
painted lines in groups of fours on the forehead,
cheeks, and chin. The Iroquois sang songs of magic
over the packs of paint. They thought the songs
would keep the paint free from evil spirits.
The Iroquois women made a face powder from
the dry rot of pinewood. This was a red powder.
Other woodland tribes made a white powder
from cornmeal. It was used for babies. Sometimes
women painted the part in the hair red or yellow
just to look pretty.
In taking part in special dances, the Delaware
Native Americans painted their faces in many
patterns. Both men and women used dots, lines,
and many kinds of fancy marks.
44
Chapter 8
Gifts of Native Americans
The king of England thought that the land he

called Pennsylvania belonged to him. He gave this
land to William Penn. Neither the king nor the
people cared that the land really belonged to Native
Americans, but William Penn, the first governor of
Pennsylvania, treated Native Americans fairly.
Native Americans had never bought or sold
land. They thought that the Great Spirit had given
them the land and all its creatures to live on and
use. No single Native American owned any land.
The Great Spirit had given the land for the use of all.
At Shackamaxon, the Native American village
on the Delaware River, a Great Peace Treaty was
made. William Penn gave Native Americans steel
knives, blankets, mirrors, guns, hatchets, kettles,
and many other things that Native Americans had
45
never seen. William Penn told Native Americans

that he was their friend.
Lenni-Lenape (len-ee len-AH-pee) tribe
members gave William Penn a wampum belt. It
was made of small white shell beads. In the center,
made of violet beads, were the figures of two men.
The one, wearing a hat, was a white man. The other
was a Native American. They were clasping hands.
At each end of the belt were three bands of violet
beads. The Lenni-Lenape tribe members said they
would live in peace with William Penn and his
children “as long as the creeks and rivers run, and
while the sun, moon, and stars shine.”
More settlers came from countries across the
sea. They needed more land for farms and towns.
At first, all the land was traded from Native
Americans. However, after William Penn died,
some people forgot about the peace treaty, and
they did not act fairly.
Where there had always been peace, now
there was war. The settlers had guns and more
men to fight than did the local tribes. More and
more people came across the ocean to live in
Pennsylvania.
46
Gifts of Native Americans
How Ways of Living Changed
The Eastern Woodland Native Americans’ way

of living began to change.
New things took the place of those these natives
had always used.
Still the settlers came. By boat, they went north
on the rivers to make homes. Others brought horses
and wagons and went over the mountains to the west.
Tribes had to give up their land. They did not
understand the ways of the white man. They did
not want to live as the settlers did.
47
Native Americans taught the settlers how to live

in the forest. From Native Americans, the settlers
learned how to grow corn, beans, and squash, and
how to prepare these foods. They learned which
wild berries to eat and how to tap maple trees for
syrup. Today we smoke or dry foods as Native
Americans did years ago. The settlers learned how to
make canoes, how to trap animals, and how to dress
furs. From Native Americans, they learned which
plants to use for medicines. The footpaths of the
natives have become the wide roads we travel today.
Wherever you live—on a farm, in a little town,
or in a big city—can you imagine that only 300
years ago this land was nothing but forest and that
among the big trees roamed elk, deer, bears, and
panthers? At that time, only a few thousand Native
Americans lived in what we now call Pennsylvania.
Think of it! There were no farms, no towns, and no
cities.
But there were the same beautiful mountains,
rivers, and valleys. Can’t you imagine a Native
American village near your home?
The End
48
Barry,
A Dog of the Alps
by Mary E. Ropes
Barry was a good dog; perhaps he was the best-

known dog in all the world, and he lived way up in
the Alps—the high mountains of Europe.
In those days, travelers used to cross the Alps
on foot. They trampled over a trail called the
Pass of St. Bernard, and this pass was covered
with snow for the greater part of the year. It was
not easy for a man to make his way through the
huge drifts, sometimes blinded by the storms,
sometimes finding himself straight in the path of
a mighty pile of snow that was sliding down the
mountainside. So it happened that long, long ago, a
band of good monks built a place of refuge nearly
at the top of the pass.
49
Barry, A Dog of the Alps
From here they used to go out and search for

travelers who were lost in the snow. To help them
in this good work,
the monks kept
a number of fine,
strong dogs. Barry
was one of these,
and he had been
trained to go out
by himself to hunt
for travelers. He
looked in the most
dangerous places, but
no place was ever too
dangerous to keep
Barry from going to
help those who needed him.
Whenever Barry came upon a man half buried
in the snow, the dog would dig the man free,
barking words of comfort that came from his big,
warm heart.
Then he would leave with the man some of the
food that he carried in a packet about his neck and
run back to his masters, barking for help.
50
Barry, A Dog of the Alps
“Come! Barry has found someone,” the monks

would cry, and they would follow him instantly.
Thus they would reach the traveler and bring him
back to be warmed and cared for by their glowing
fires.
Once, Barry found a small boy lost in the snow.
This time he did not run barking home for help.
He knew he could not leave so little a fellow alone.
He must carry him back to the monks himself. So
he came up close to the child and told him in his
good dog language, just as lovingly as a mother
could have done, not to cry, not to be afraid, but
to climb up on his big strong back. The little one
understood and did as Barry bade him. So the
good dog bore him safely through the great drifts
to the warm fire and supper the monks had ready.
Barry lived with the monks for twelve years,
and during that time, many were the travelers he
saved.
Both before and since his day, there have been
other St. Bernard dogs who were good, brave, and
wise, but none of them has so truly earned the love
and gratitude of men as the noble mastiff, Barry.
51
The Cap That Mother Made
A Swedish Tale
Once upon a time there was a little boy named

Anders, and he had a new cap. A prettier cap was
never seen, for his mother herself had knit it, and
who could ever make anything half so nice as
Mother!
The cap was red except for a small part in the
middle that was green—for there had not been
enough red yarn to make it all—and the tassel was
blue.
Anders’ brothers and sisters walked about
admiring him; then he put his hands in his pockets
and went out for a walk, for he was altogether
willing that everyone should see how fine a hat his
mother had made him.
52
The first person he met was a farmer walking

beside a cart loaded with hay. When he saw
Anders’ new cap, the farmer made a bow so deep
that he bent nearly double. Anders smiled kindly
and trotted proudly past him.
At the turn of the road, he came upon Lars, the
shoemaker’s boy. Lars was such a big boy that he
wore high boots and carried a jackknife. But oh,
when he saw that cap, he stood quite still to gaze at
it, and he could not help going up close to Anders
and fingering the splendid blue tassel.
“I’ll give you my cap and my jackknife for your
cap.”
Now this knife was a splendid one, and Anders
knew that as soon as one has a jackknife, one is
almost a man. But still he would not for all the
world give up the cap which Mother had made.
“Oh, no, I could not do that,” he said. And then
he nodded goodbye to Lars and went on.
Soon after this Anders met a strange little lady.
She curtsied to him until her skirts spread out
about her like a balloon, and she said, “Lad, you
are so fine, why do you not go to the king’s ball?”
“Yes, why do I not?” thought Anders. “With this
53
cap, I am altogether fit to go and visit the king.”

And off he went.
In the palace yard stood two soldiers with guns
over their shoulders and shining helmets on their
heads.
When Anders went to pass them, they both
leveled their guns at him.
“Where are you going, boy?” asked one of the
soldiers.
“I am going to the king’s ball,” answered
Anders.
“No, you are not,” said the other soldier, trying
to push him back. “Nobody can go to the king’s
ball without a uniform.”
But just at this moment, the princess came
tripping across the yard, dressed in a white satin
gown with ribbons of gold.
“This lad has no uniform, it’s true,” she said,
“but he has a very fine cap, and that will do just as
well. He shall come to the ball.”
So she took Anders by the hand and walked
with him up the broad marble stairs, past the
soldiers who stood on every third step, through
magnificent halls where gentlemen and ladies in
54
silk and velvet were waiting about. And wherever

Anders went, all the people bowed to him, for as
like as not, they thought him a prince when they
saw what it was that he wore on his head.
At the farther end of the largest hall, a table was
set with long rows of golden plates and goblets. On
huge silver platters were piles of tarts and cakes.
The princess sat down under a blue canopy with
bouquets of roses on it, and she bade Anders to sit
in a golden chair by her side.
“But you must not eat with your cap on your
head,” she said, and she started to take it off.
“Oh, yes, I can eat just as well with it on,” said
55
Anders, and he held onto it with both his hands,

for if it were taken away from him, he did not feel
sure he would ever get it again.
“Well, well, give it to me, and I will give you a
kiss.”
The princess was beautiful, and Anders would
surely have liked to be kissed by her, but not for
anything in this world would he give up the cap
that Mother had made. He only shook his head.
Then the princess filled his pockets full of cakes,
put her own heavy gold chain around his neck, and
bent down and kissed him.
“Now will you give me the cap?” begged the
princess.
Anders moved farther back in his chair, but he
never once took his hands from his head.
Then the doors were thrown open, and the
king himself entered, accompanied by gentlemen
in glittering uniforms and plumed hats. The king
wore a mantle of blue velvet, bordered with fur,
and he had a large gold crown on his head. When
he saw Anders in the golden chair, he smiled.
“That is a very fine cap you have,” he said.
“So it is,” said Anders. “It is made of Mother’s
56
best yarn, and she has knit it herself, and everyone

wants to get it away from me.”
“But surely you would like to change caps with
me,” said the king, and he lifted his shining gold
crown from his head.
Anders said never a word, but when the king
came nearer to him with his gold crown in one
hand and the other hand outstretched toward that
beautiful cap, then, with one jump, Anders was out
of his chair. Like an arrow he darted out of the hall,
through the palace, down the stairs, and across the
yard. He ran so fast that the necklace the princess
had given him fell from his neck, and all the cakes
rolled out of his pockets.
But he had his cap! He had his cap! He had his
cap!
With both hands he clutched it tight as he ran
back home to his mother’s cottage.
“Well, Anders, where have you been?” cried
his mother. So he told her all about what had
happened.
All his brothers and sisters stood around and
listened with mouths wide open.
But when his big brother heard how he had
57
refused to give his cap in exchange for the king’s

golden crown, he cried out:
“Anders, you were foolish! Just think of all the
things you might have bought with the king’s gold
crown! Velvet jackets and long leather boots and
silken hose and a sword. Besides, you could have
bought yourself a much finer cap with a feather in
it.”
Anders’ face grew red, very red. “I was not
foolish,” he answered sturdily. “I could never have
bought a finer cap, not for all the king’s crown. I
could never have bought anything in all this world
half so fine as the cap my mother made me!”
Then his mother took him up on her lap and
kissed him.
58
A Bird with a Basket
by Culmer Barnes
A bird with a basket! Whoever heard of such

a funny thing? But there is a bird called a pelican,
which has a large pouch, or bag, under its beak.
Some people have called it a basket. The pelican is
a very clumsy, if not a really ugly, bird. His bill is
almost as long as his body, and he has very short
legs.
When he walks, or rather waddles, he topples
along from side to side, just as you may have seen
some old sailor who is as awkward on land as a
duck.
The pouch, or bag, under the pelican’s bill is the
most curious thing about this odd bird. Although
this pouch cannot be seen except when in use, it is
59
A Bird with a Basket
large enough to hold nearly a pailful of water. The

pelican uses it as a basket in which to carry to his
mate and young their dinner of fish. He catches it
by diving down into the water with his mouth open.
Once a pelican, which was kept in a large cage
with other curious birds, acted very much like the
“dog in the manger.” When corn was put in the
cage for the other birds to eat, the pelican stood
over it and would not permit any of the birds to
get even a kernel. When a hungry little duck or
pigeon would approach, the pelican would open his
immense mouth and make a hissing noise which
made him seem quite terrible. He looked as though
he would have said, if he could have spoken, “I
can’t eat corn, and so you shall not eat it either. If I
can’t have some fish, nobody shall have corn.”
Finally his fish was brought, and while he was
swallowing it, the other birds ate up the corn.
It is fortunate that nature has fitted him to catch
fish so easily.
He is so greedy that for dinner he will eat as
many fish as would satisfy half a dozen people.
60
The Good Mother
Eider-Duck
by Laura E. Richards
What should you think if your mother had no

blankets to put over you at night and if she should
pull out all her pretty hair and make you a blanket
of that? You would think she was a very kind,
loving mother, would you not? You would be quite
right, but still she would not be kinder or more
loving than the quiet, unpretending eider-duck,
who strips her own soft breast to keep her babies
warm.
In a very cold country, far away in the North
Atlantic Ocean—Iceland, it is called—there are
thousands of these beautiful birds; wherever you
step, you find one. You would think they would not
like to stay where the rivers are always frozen and
61
The Good Mother Eider-Duck
snow is on the ground all the long year, with only

a few days of sunshine. They do like it, though,
because they can be very quiet there and do pretty
much as they like.
Their nests are a sort of little mattress made of
drift-grass and seaweed, and over it they spread
a bed of finest down. The careful mother plucks
this down from her own breast, heaping it up in a
thick, fluttery roll around the edge of the nest.
You know that while she is sitting on her
eggs she must sometimes leave the nest for food.
The weather is so cold that before she goes, she
carefully turns the roll of down over the eggs, to
keep them warm until her return. A great deal of
money is made by Icelanders in selling the down.
When it is taken from the nest, the little mother
goes to work just as carefully as before and makes
it all over. But if they take it the second time, and
her home is left with bare walls and her breast
bare, too, what is she to do?
In a moment the male bird comes to her help
and plucks the down off his own breast. His
feathers are whiter, though not so soft.
This down is so light that it takes a great many
62
The Good Mother Eider-Duck
feathers to weigh anything at all. If you should fill

your father’s hat with them, they would not weigh
an ounce. And yet, after all, they would make you
the warmest covering in the world.
63
by Helen Fuller Orton
Illustrations by R. Emmett Owen
Chapter 1
What Robin Redbreast Knew
He got up, dressed quickly, and went

downstairs.
“Mother,” he said, “I heard something that
sounded just like a robin. What could it have
been?”
“It was a robin,” said Mother. “Come here and
see him.”
Bobby ran to the big south window. There, on
a branch of the maple tree, was Robin Redbreast
singing merrily.
“I thought the robins always stayed down south
until spring,” said Bobby. “Why did he come back
in the dead of winter?”
“Spring is almost here,” said Mother.
“Oh, indeed, it can’t be,” said Bobby, “it is so
cold and snowy.”
65
Bobby of Cloverfield Farm
“Robin knows,” said Mother.

But Bobby looked out and saw the fields still
covered with snow, and he saw the huge snowdrifts
like mountains and castles along the fences and
the whirling snowflakes in the air, and he thought,
“Robin is mistaken this time.”
After he had finished his morning chores,
Bobby took his sled and slid down the little hill at
the side of the house, as he had done nearly every
day all winter. He slid down the hill twenty-seven
times.
Then he and Rover, his big shepherd dog, went
across the field to the snowdrifts in the fence
corners. Bobby slid down a huge snowbank, which
gave his sled such a start that he went skimming
over the field on the hard snow. He took eight long
slides there.
In the afternoon, he went skating on the duck
pond. It was shiny and smooth and beautiful for
skating. He skated across the pond twenty times.
When he went into the house, Mother said,
“Well, Bobby, you have had a busy day.”
“I’ve had lots of fun,” said Bobby. “I shall go
sliding and skating every day for the rest of winter.”
66
“That will not be long,” said Mother.

“Oh, yes, it will,” said Bobby. “Just see all the
snow and ice.”
If Bobby had only noticed, he would have
known that, even then, the wind had changed to the
south, and it was becoming warmer. Soon the snow
and ice began to melt. All night they kept melting.
The next day, Bobby was awakened again by
Robin Redbreast. He looked out and saw the sun
shining brightly. All that morning the snow melted
so fast that by noon there were little rivers and
pools of water everywhere.
Bobby tried to slide down the little hill, but
there was a bare spot halfway down, so his sled
stuck on the ground and would not go any farther.
“This isn’t any fun,” thought Bobby. “I’ll go over
and slide down the snowbanks.” He and Rover
started across the field, but at every step, they
went down through the soft snow into the water
beneath.
“This isn’t any fun either, is it?” he said to Rover.
Rover looked up into Bobby’s face and seemed
to say, “I don’t care for it much myself.” So they
went back to the house.
67
Rover lay down by the fire to dry off, but Bobby

took his skates and went to the duck pond. When
he got there, he found the ice on the duck pond
covered with pools of water.
“I’ll wait till another day to skate,” he thought.
He was just starting back to the house when
there came to his ears the same sound he had
heard the last two mornings, “Chirp, chirp,
cheer-up.”
Bobby looked across the pond. There, on the
willow tree, was a robin.
“Hello, Robin Redbreast,” called Bobby. “I’m
glad you are back again. But you’ll be very cold up
here. It isn’t spring yet.”
“Chirp, chirp,” said Robin. “Cheer-up, cheer-y.”
The robin flew up to a higher branch of the willow
tree.
68
Bobby’s eyes followed Robin. What were all

those little gray things on the twigs around Robin?
Bobby looked more closely. “Why, I do
“ ‘Hello, Robin Redbreast,’ called Bobby.

‘I’m glad you are back again.’ ”
69
believe—I do believe—can it be those are pussy

willows?” he exclaimed.
He ran around the pond to the tree. Sure
enough, they were pussy willows!
Bobby reached up and picked some of the twigs.
Then he ran to the house as fast
as he could run.
“Oh, Mother,” he exclaimed,
“see the pussy willows! I believe
spring is almost here.”
“Robin knew,” said Mother.
“Good!” said Bobby. Then he
added, “But there won’t be any more sleigh rides or
sliding down the hill or skating.”
“Just wait and see what fun summer will bring,”
Mother replied.
70
Chapter 2
Bobby’s Kite
The time of year had come when boys were

flying kites. But around Cloverfield Farm, no one
had started yet.
Perhaps the little white clouds floating in the
sky beckoned to Bobby, “Send a kite up to us, little
earth boy.”
Perhaps the wind blowing in the treetops
whispered, “Bring a kite and try me. Just see how
far I will take it up for you.”
Anyway, Bobby suddenly stopped playing and
looked up into the sky. Then he ran into the house.
“I want to fly a kite,” he said.
“I will help you make one,” said Grandfather,
who was visiting there.
Bobby hunted until he found the sticks and the
string and the paper. Then they made a fine kite.
71
Mother helped, too. She made the paste of flour

and water, and she found bright strips of cloth
for the tail. Then she wrote his name on the cross
stick—Bobby Hill.
His sister Sue went along to help him start it.
Up, up went the kite into the sky.
“Ha, ha!” said Mr. Wind. “Here’s some fun. I’ll
take that kite up to the clouds.”
“Good!” said the little white clouds. “Here
comes a kite to visit us.”
It was not long before the cord was all
unwound, and the kite looked like a speck against
the sky.
“It must touch the clouds,” said Bobby.
Mother came out on the porch to look at it.
People driving along the road saw Bobby holding
the string and looked up into the sky. “What a fine
kite!” they said.
Bobby’s father, Mr. Hill, had gone to the city
that morning.
“You had better leave it up until Father comes
home; he will want to see it,” said Sue, as she
started back to the house.
One of the neighbor boys saw Bobby’s kite
72
Bobby’s Kite
and went into his house to make one. Boys in the

village saw it and began to make kites.
When Bobby’s kite had been flying for some
“Up, up went the kite into the sky.”
73
time, the wind began to blow harder, and the kite

tugged and tugged on the string.
Suddenly, there was a strong gust of wind.
Snap went the string.
Away went the kite.
Bobby ran after it, to catch it when it fell. But
it soon blew out of sight over the patch of woods.
Then he sadly wound up the string that was left
and went slowly to the house.
“My kite flew away,” he said to Mother. “It was
the best one I ever had.”
Meanwhile, the kite went sailing along.
“It’s my kite,” the West Wind seemed to say as it
blew the kite toward the little red schoolhouse.
“No, it’s my kite,” the North Wind seemed to say
as it blew the kite toward the clouds.
In spite of them both, the kite began to fall.
Zigzag it went, first one way then another, across
the road where the little red schoolhouse stood, to
an open field on the other side.
Mr. Hill was just coming home from the city on
that road. As he was driving along, he saw the kite
falling.
“Whoa, Prince,” he said to the horse.
74
Bobby’s Kite
Prince stopped. Mr. Hill got out of the buggy

and climbed over the fence. “Perhaps I can catch
it,” he thought. Just before he got to it, the kite
came to the ground. Mr. Hill picked it up.
“What a fine kite!” he said. “I wonder what boy
lost it. I’ll inquire at the houses as I go along.”
He wound up the string, gathered up all the tail,
and went back to the buggy. He started to put it
under the seat, but as he did so, he saw something
written on the cross stick. It was the name Mrs.
Hill had written there—Bobby Hill.
“Well, well!” said he. “So it’s Bobby’s kite, is it?”
He put it under the seat, got into the buggy, and
drove toward home.
Father meant to give the kite to Bobby as soon
as he reached home, but when he drove into
the yard, there was a man waiting to see him on
business, so he forgot all about it.
75
Bobby’s big brother, John, unhitched Prince, put

him into the stable, and pushed the buggy into the
carriage house.
So there was Bobby’s fine kite lying under the
buggy seat, all unknown.
The next day Grandfather helped Bobby make
another kite. But perhaps it was not made of the
right kind of wood, or perhaps the crosspiece was
not at just the right place. Anyhow, it had not
gone up far when it dived to the ground and was
broken.
That evening Bobby told Father all about his
kites. Then Father remembered something, but he
said nothing about it just then.
The next morning, he called Bobby to him.
“I have a present for you,” he said. “Come to the
carriage house, and you may see it.”
“What is it like?” asked Bobby as they walked
along.
“It is something that flies,” said Father.
“A bird,” said Bobby.
“Wrong,” said Father.
“A ball?” guessed Bobby.
“No. One more guess,” said Father.
76
Bobby’s Kite
“I don’t know anything else that flies,” said

Bobby, “except a butterfly.”
“How about a bumblebee?” asked Father.
“Oh, Father, you couldn’t catch a
bumblebee,” said Bobby. “And if you did, it
would sting you.”
“How about a kite?” asked Father.
“That would be grand,” said Bobby. “Did you get
one in the city?”
“Look under the buggy seat,” said Father.
Bobby climbed into the buggy, reached under
the seat, and began to pull something out.
“Why, it looks just like the tail to my kite,” he
said.
“Why, it is my kite,” he shouted as he saw his
name on the crosspiece. “Where did you get it?”
Father told him.
“I’ll tie the string together and fly it again,” said
Bobby.
“You had better get some stronger cord,” said
Father. “I might not find it if it flew away again.”
Bobby rode to the village when John went to the
blacksmith shop. He went to Mr. Brown’s store and
bought a ball of strong cord. Then he ran all the
77
way home with it because he did not want to wait

for the blacksmith to finish shoeing the horse.
And it wasn’t long before Bobby’s kite had
climbed high into the sky again.
People driving along the road saw it and said,
“What a fine kite!”
Father saw it this time.
As he was going down the lane, Father stopped
a few moments to watch it. Then he waved his
hand to Bobby and started on.
“I am glad it flew across my path,” he said.
78
Chapter 3
The Old Brown Hen
In the spring at Cloverfield Farm, all the family

planted seeds and made gardens.
Mother sowed pansy seeds in a round bed
in the side yard. When the little plants came up,
she watered them and weeded them and kept the
ground soft and fine so they could grow.
All the time she was tending them, she kept
thinking, “How nice it will be to have all these
lovely pansies to look at this summer!”
Father sowed some radish seeds in the garden.
When the little plants came up, he weeded them
and hoed them and kept the ground soft and fine
so the little radish plants could grow.
All the time he was doing it, he was thinking,
“How fine it will be to have lots of good radishes
for the table!”
79
Bobby had a little corner all of his own in

Father’s big garden. He sowed some onion seeds
in his garden. When the little plants came up, he
weeded them and hoed them and kept the ground
soft and fine so they could grow.
All the time he was doing it, he was thinking,
“How nice it will be to have all these onions so I
can give them to Mother for the cooking!”
One day, while the family was all away, Old
Brown Hen, who had escaped from the chicken
coop, came along with her thirteen chicks.
She was hunting for a good place to scratch and
find something for them to eat.
First, she tried to scratch in the gravel driveway,
but that was too hard.
Next, she tried to scratch by the woodpile, but
the ground was covered with little chips, so she
could not scratch there.
80
The Old Brown Hen
Then she found Mother’s pansy bed. The

ground in it was so soft that it was beautiful for
scratching.
So she called, “Cluck, cluck, cluck!” and her
thirteen chicks came running, and she scratched
all over the pansy bed to find bugs and worms for
them to eat.
And all the little pansy plants were scratched up.
Next, she went over to the big garden and found
Father’s radish bed. The ground in it was so soft
that it was a fine place for scratching.
So she called, “Cluck, cluck, cluck!” and her
all over the radish bed to find something for them
to eat.
And all the little radish plants were scratched up.
One would think that the Old Brown Hen
would not have needed to scratch anymore. But it
takes a lot of food to feed thirteen hungry, growing
chicks.
So she kept hunting for other places to scratch,
and it was not long before she found Bobby’s onion
bed.
Now Bobby had hoed in it and dug in it so
81
much just the day before that it was very soft and
just beautiful for scratching.
“What good luck!” thought the Old Brown Hen.
“A finer place for scratching I never saw.”
“Cluck, cluck, cluck!” she called, and her
all over the onion bed to find something for them
to eat.
And all the little onion plants were scratched up.
Then, because they had eaten all they wanted,
she wallowed in the soft earth until she had made a
nice, comfortable place to sit.
There she sat, in the middle of Bobby’s onion
bed, and the thirteen chicks went under her wings
to have a midday nap.
The Old Brown Hen went to sleep, too.
Soon the family came home. As they drove into
the yard, Mother spied her pansy bed and cried,
“Somebody has been digging in my garden and
has dug all my little pansy plants up.”
Next, they came to the big garden, and when
Father saw his radish bed, he said, “Somebody’s
been digging in my garden and has dug all my
radish plants up.”
82
The Old Brown Hen
Then Bobby ran to look at his garden. When he

saw it, he cried, “Somebody’s been digging in my
garden, and here she is, fast asleep.”
“When he saw it, he cried, ‘Somebody’s been digging in

my garden, and here she is, fast asleep.’ ”
83
When the Old Brown Hen heard Bobby shout,

she woke up and ran away.
And her little chicks ran in all directions and
called, “Peep, peep, peep!”
“Let’s catch her,” said John.
Father and John and Bobby chased the Old
Brown Hen and caught her and put her in the
chicken coop.
Then she called, “Cluck, cluck, cluck!” and her
thirteen chicks came running.
And there they lived until the chicks were
grown up.
And they did not scratch up any more gardens
that summer.
And that is the end of the story of the Old
Brown Hen.
84
Chapter 4
The Sheep Washing
One morning in May, Bobby saw the flock of

sheep going along the gravel driveway toward the
road.
Rover and John, Bobby’s big brother, were
driving them. Hobson, the hired man, went ahead.
“Where are you taking the sheep?” asked Bobby.
“Have you sold them?”
“Come, and you shall see,” answered Father.
“Do you want to ride with me in the buggy or help
drive the sheep?”
“I’d like to help,” said Bobby.
“Well, here is a long stick for you,” said Father.
Bobby was off like the wind and soon caught up
with the others.
The leader of the flock went ahead. All the other
sheep followed. Sometimes they tried to stop and
85
eat grass by the roadside. Bobby was after them

with his long stick.
Sometimes they tried to go into a farmer’s yard.
Rover chased them back into the road.
Once a big black dog came from a farmyard,
barking savagely. “Bow-wow, bow-wow!” he said.
The sheep were dreadfully frightened. Some ran up
the road, and some ran down the road.
Rover ran at the big black dog and drove him
back into his yard. Then he and John and Hobson
and Bobby brought the frightened sheep together
again and started them down the road.
“I wonder where we are taking the sheep,”
thought Bobby.
About ten o’clock, they came to a creek with
a bridge over it. They drove the sheep across the
bridge. On the other side, Hobson stopped them
86
The Sheep Washing
and drove them to one side of the road. Farmer

Hill tied Prince to the fence.
“Can you guess what we came for?” he asked.
Bobby looked all around. John and Hobson and
Rover were driving the sheep into a pen at the edge
of the creek. The pen was surrounded by a fence of
rails with a gate near the water.
Then the men put on the old clothes which they
had brought in the buggy and went into the pen
among the sheep.
Bobby looked puzzled.
“Let’s take the leader of the flock first,” said Mr.
Hill, and John grabbed the old sheep in spite of his
ugly-looking horns.
They took him through the gate and started to
pull him toward the water.
“Oh, Father, I know,” shouted Bobby. “You are
going to wash the sheep.”
When Bobby found that he had guessed right,
he danced for joy. Then he settled down to see how
it would be done.
This sheep was the largest sheep in the flock and
had long curved horns. He had been washed every
year of his life, but he never liked to be dragged
87
into the water. Now he held back with all the

strength of his four stout legs.
John was in front, trying to pull him along.
Farmer Hill and Hobson were behind, trying to
push him along.
Suddenly, the sheep changed his mind. He
lowered his head and rushed forward, striking
John a tremendous blow.
John went into the water. Bobby could not see a
bit of him.
Into the water, too, went the sheep. But his head
was above water and was moving out into the creek.
Bobby could not move or speak. He feared that
his big brother, John, would be drowned.
Then he saw John rising out of the water and
Father helping him back to land.
“That sheep has played us a sharp trick,” said
Mr. Hill.
“Oh, Father,” shouted Bobby, “he is almost
across the creek. He’ll surely get away.”
Farmer Hill was watching the pair of horns.
“We’ll get him,” he said.
He started toward the bridge, grabbing a rope as
he went. Hobson followed.
88
The Sheep Washing
Before they could run across the bridge, the

sheep walked up out of the creek and started
toward home. But he was tired after his swim, and
his wool was heavy with water.
“The sheep walked up out of the creek

and started toward home.”
89
They soon overtook the sheep and drove him

into a corner of the rail fence at the side of the road.
“Now we have you,” said Farmer Hill, as he
threw the rope over his horns.
The old sheep had to submit and be led back
over the bridge to the sheep pen.
“You won’t do that again, old boy,” said John.
“I’ll be ready for you this time.”
The men took him out into the water again.
Keeping his head up so that he could breathe, they
washed his long wool until it was quite clean.
Then they led him out of the water, into another
sheep pen, which had been built to hold the sheep
after they were washed.
After all the sheep had been washed clean and
white, they were started home again.
Bobby rode with Father in the buggy.
“How do they get the wool off of the sheep?” he
asked.
“That,” said Father, “will be something more
for you to see another time. You won’t have to wait
many days.”
Bobby had a great story to tell Mother and Sue
that night.
90
Chapter 5
The Sheep Shearing
A few days after the sheep had been washed

at the creek, a man named Mr. Price came to
Cloverfield Farm one morning.
“If you want to see something interesting,” said
Father to Bobby, “you may come along with us.”
They all went down to the old red barn, and
Bobby noticed that the flock of sheep had been
driven into the basement.
On the basement floor, near the gate which
shuts the sheep in their pen, they put down a
platform of boards about six feet square.
Then Mr. Price took several strange-looking
things out of his bag.
“What is that?” asked Bobby, pointing to one of
them.
“That’s a pair of shears,” said Mr. Price.
91
“They do not look like my mother’s shears,” said

Bobby.
“No, they don’t,” said Mr. Price. “But these are
sheep shears.”
“Oh, I know,” shouted Bobby, jumping up and
down, “you are going to shear the sheep.”
“Right, my boy,” said the man. “Now keep your
eyes open.”
“You had better look out for the leader of the
flock,” said Bobby. “He’ll bunt you over as he did
John down at the creek.”
“I’ve sheared thousands of sheep in my time,”
said Mr. Price, “and no sheep ever bunted me over
yet.”
The men brought one of the smaller sheep
through the gate and tipped her over on her side
on the smooth boards. Mr. Price, bending over
92
The Sheep Shearing
the sheep, began shearing off the wool close to the

skin.
After he had sheared the wool from the upper
side, he turned the sheep over and sheared the
other side.
Bobby was watching closely.
When he had finished and the fleece lay flat on
the platform very white and clean, Mr. Price let the
sheep get up and run out in the barnyard.
“Ba-a-a, ba-a-a!” went the sheep as she ran out,
looking very small and feeling very strange with
her heavy coat of wool gone.
Farmer Hill gathered up the wool and carried
it to another part of the basement while John and
Mr. Price brought out the next sheep.
When Mr. Price had sheared four sheep, he said,
“You might as well bring the old leader of the flock
next.”
“You must lose your wool,” said Bobby to the
old sheep. “We need it to make our clothes.”
“I think John had better help you hold him
down,” said Farmer Hill. “He is a difficult old fellow.”
So John helped hold him while Mr. Price
sheared him.
93
The leader of the flock was a wise old sheep.

He knew he could not get away from two men.
Besides, he was not sorry to lose the heavy coat
which made him so warm in the hot spring days.
Perhaps he knew that when a sheep squirms
and kicks, the shearer may cut off a bit of the skin
instead of just taking the wool.
At any rate, he lay very quietly until he was all
sheared and they let him run out into the yard.
“Oh, Father, the old sheep didn’t make a single
bunt,” shouted Bobby, bounding off to the place
where Mr. Hill was taking care of the fleeces.
“Just see what I am doing,” said Father.
Farmer Hill had a queer-looking thing made of
boards joined together with hinges. It looked flat
when he laid a fleece of wool on it. Then he folded
it up until it looked like a box, and the wool was
pressed together inside of it.
There were pieces of strong wool twine in
grooves on the inside of the box. He tied them
around the fleece to hold it firmly together.
At last he opened the box, and out came a solid
fleece of wool in the shape of a cube about eighteen
inches on each side.
94
The Sheep Shearing
“Oh, let me feel it,” said Bobby. He pressed his

hands and face against the soft white wool.
“How much do you guess it weighs?” asked Mr.
Hill as he put it on the scales.
“Fifty pounds,” said Bobby.
“Too much. Eight and a half,” said Father as he
wrote the number down in a book.
“How do they make the wool into clothes?”
asked Bobby.
“It is first spun into yarn,” said Father. “Do you
remember the old spinning wheel we have up in
the attic?”
“Oh, yes,” said Bobby. “That is what I turn my
buzz saw with.”
“Well,” said Father, “your grandmother used
that wheel to spin yarn from wool like this.”
“And then they knit stockings from the yarn,”
said Bobby.
“Yes,” said Father, “but my grandmother used
to weave the yarn into cloth on a loom. And she
made the cloth into clothes for her children to
wear.”
“I wish Mother would spin yarn and make
clothes,” said Bobby.
95
“We find it cheaper to sell the wool and buy our

clothes,” said Father.
“And perhaps Mother has enough to do,” said
Bobby.
Then they went back to get another fleece.
When the sheep were all sheared, Rover drove
them down the long lane to their pasture.
And it was not long before the whole flock was
once more nibbling grass in the meadow.
96
Chapter 6
Red Top
The proudest creature on Cloverfield Farm was

Red Top, the big rooster.
He was called Red Top because of his beautiful
big red comb.
Red Top was proud of his big red comb. He was
proud of his glossy reddish-brown feathers. He was
proud of his crow.
“Just hear those silly hens,” he would say. “All
they can do is cackle. But listen to my beautiful
song. Cock-a-doodle-doo, cock-a-doodle-doo!
Was there ever a grander sound?”
Every morning, on his perch in the hen house,
he would waken and crow before the break of day.
Then he would go out in front of the hen house
and crow three or four times. But the place he liked
best for crowing was a little mound near the house.
97
Farmer Hill’s window was just above the little

mound. John’s window was nearby.
Before they were awake, every morning in
summer, Red Top would go there and crow at the
top of his voice.
Farmer Hill would waken and say, “There is Red
Top. It is time to get up.”
John would waken and say, “I wish Red Top
would crow somewhere else.”
Then there came a holiday when they did
not need to get up so early. The evening before,
Farmer Hill said, “I wish someone would keep Red
Top from crowing under my window tomorrow
morning so I could sleep.”
“I’ll keep him away,” said Bobby.
“You will have to watch, or he will get there in
spite of you,” said Father.
98
Red Top
“I don’t believe you could keep him away,” said

John.
“You’ll see that I can,” said Bobby. “Red Top
can’t get the better of me.”
“If you keep him from crowing there tomorrow
morning,” said John, “I will give you a dime.”
“Goody! I’ll do it,” said Bobby. “I’ll put the dime
in the box for the new Express Wagon I’m saving
up to buy.”
Bobby put the alarm clock near his bed. It was
set to wake him at four o’clock.
The next morning, after Red Top had crowed
in the hen house, he went out into the yard and
crowed three times. Then he started toward the
house. Very proudly he strutted along the path.
He was just going around to the side of the
house when Bobby came out of the back door.
“Shoo, shoo!” said Bobby. “You must not crow
near the house this morning.”
And he drove Red Top back toward the corn
crib.
“That is too bad,” thought Red Top. “They will
miss my nice crow. I must go again.”
So he went up the path again toward the little
99
mound. Bobby was watching and drove him back.

“I will not let you crow here this morning,” he
said. “Shoo, shoo!”
Six times Red Top tried to get to the little
mound. Six times Bobby drove him back. Finally,
Bobby drove him beyond the horse barn.
“Crow for the walnut tree this morning,” he
said.
“He won’t get to the house again very soon,”
thought Bobby. So he went over to the strawberry
patch to see whether any strawberries were ripe.
Suddenly, in the apple tree, a robin began to
sing. A thrush joined him from a nearby thicket.
Birds began chirping in all the trees.
The eastern sky began to turn golden. The fleecy
white clouds began to look rosy.
Bobby forgot all about the rooster.
Soon there were birds singing everywhere—
robins in the apple orchard, a blackbird in the
elm tree, swallows flashing through the farmyard,
bluebirds and yellow birds on every side.
Bobolinks skimming over the clover field joined
the chorus.
Then, on a low limb of the crab apple tree, a
100
Red Top
meadowlark began to sing. Bobby tried to find him

but could not see him among the branches. Such a
wonderful song he had never heard.
The eastern sky was getting more rosy and more
golden.
“It must be the sunrise that makes the meadow-
lark so happy,” thought Bobby. “I wish I could sing
like that.”
So there Bobby stood with a golden sunrise in
the east and singing birds around him.
Meanwhile, Red Top was quietly making his
way to the house. He came as far as the woodpile,
and Bobby did not drive him back. He came as far
as the pump.
“I’ll be there soon,” he thought.
A rooster in the next barnyard crowed. Then
Bobby remembered.
He ran toward the house. There was Red Top on
the little mound.
“Oh, I must stop him before he crows,” thought
Bobby. He shouted, “Shoo, shoo!”
Just then a loud cock-a-doodle-doo rang out on
the morning air.
“I beat you, Bobby,” it seemed to say.
101
Father looked out of his window and said, “Red

Top was smarter than you, wasn’t he?”
“I am sorry I let him wake you,” said Bobby.
John put his head out of his window and called,
“You have lost the dime, Bobby.”
“I don’t care,” said Bobby. “I heard the birds and
saw the sunrise.”
Then he chased Red Top down to the old red
barn so Father could finish his morning nap.
102
Chapter 7
Haying Time
One of the many pretty sights on the farm in

early June was the clover field all covered with red
blossoms.
It was an interesting place, too.
Bobby and Rover loved to romp
in it. The honeybees came to it
to get honey. The bobolinks, like
flashes of black and white, skimmed
over it as they sang. The ground
birds had their nests in it.
Bobby knew of three nests there.
One morning, Bobby saw Father and Hobson
in the tool shed and went to see what they were
doing. He found them busy with the mowing
machine—oiling it, tightening the screws, and
sharpening the knives.
103
“Oh, Father, you aren’t going to cut the grass

now, are you?” said Bobby.
“Yes,” said Father, “the clover is ready.”
“I wish it could be left all summer,” said Bobby.
“But we must cut it,” said Farmer Hill, “to make
hay for the horses and cows to eat next winter.”
When the mower was ready, they hitched
Prince and Daisy to it, and Father climbed to the
seat and drove to the hayfield.
As the mower went around the field, it cut a wide
row of clover and left it lying flat on the ground.
The humming sound of the mower was a
pleasant sound to a person some distance away
and a very loud sound to one nearby.
In one of the nests in the field, there was a
mother bird and three young birds. The little
mother bird, there in the quiet clover field, had
never heard such a loud sound before.
“What can it be that makes that big noise?”
the frightened mother bird thought as the mower
passed close by.
Then the sound grew fainter as the mower went
to the other side of the field. The little mother bird
settled down happily in her nest.
104
Haying Time
But it was not long before the sound came back

again, closer and louder than before.
“What shall I do?” thought the mother bird.
“What shall I do?”
She might have flown away herself, but there
were the three young birds not yet old enough to fly.
So she sat still while the terrible noise kept
coming nearer.
All this time, Bobby was playing here and
there with Rover. Suddenly, Bobby thought of
something. He ran toward the mowing machine,
waving his hands and shouting.
“Stop, Father, stop!” he said.
The mower made such a loud noise that Father
could not hear what Bobby was saying, but he
could see his arms waving.
“Whoa, Prince! Whoa, Daisy!” he said, and the
horses stopped.
“What is the matter, Bobby?” he asked.
“The bird’s nest! There’s a nest right ahead,”
shouted Bobby.
“A bird’s nest, is there?” said Father. “Well, we
won’t harm the nest. Go and stand near it, Bobby,
and I’ll turn out for it.”
105
Bobby hunted around until he found it in the

clover. Then he took his stand beside it.
Father clucked to the horses. “Get-up, Prince!
Get-up, Daisy!” he said. When he came near
“ ‘Stop, Father, stop!’ he said.”
106
Haying Time
Bobby, he turned out and passed a few feet away,

leaving the nest all safe.
Bobby stood there until Father went around the
field and came back again so that the wheels of the
mower would not run over the nest or the horses
would not step on it when passing on the other side.
“Are there any more nests in the field?” asked
Father.
“There’s one at that end,” said Bobby, pointing
toward the west, “and there’s one down there,” he
said, pointing toward the east.
“If you will set a tall stick in the ground near
each one,” said Mr. Hill, “I can see where the nests
are, and you won’t have to stand there.”
“All right,” said Bobby, and he started toward
the house for the sticks.
As he was hunting for them, he remembered
his little flags that always stood in the corner of the
parlor.
“Why not use the flags to keep the birds’ nests
safe?” he thought.
So he ran into the parlor, took three of the flags,
and ran back to the clover field.
Four little birds were in the nest at the western end
107
of the field. Bobby pushed one of the sticks into the

ground beside it, and the flag floated in the breeze.
Away to the other end of the field he ran, to the
nest where there were two little birds. He planted
one of the sticks in the ground beside it, and that
flag floated in the breeze, too.
Then he went to the nest where he had stood
guard. “You shall have a flag, too,” he said.
Farmer Hill kept driving around the field,
cutting the clover. But when he came near a flag,
he turned out and left a patch of clover standing
around the nest.
The sun shone brightly and dried the clover.
The breezes blew over it and dried it. Together they
changed it from fresh grass into sweet-smelling
hay.
The next day, John hitched Daisy to the hay rake
108
Haying Time
and drove it up and down the field, raking the hay

into long rows.
The hired men came with their pitchforks and
pitched it into little stacks.
But they were all careful not to touch the little
patches of clover where the flags flew.
People driving along the road wondered why
Farmer Hill had left the three little patches of
clover standing and why the three little flags were
there. They did not know that it had to do with
happy little families of birds.
109
Chapter 8
On Top of the World
For a few days, Bobby and his little sister Betty

and Rover had fun playing hide-and-seek among
the stacks of hay.
“Well, Bobby,” said Father one morning, “can
you and Betty spare the hay so that we can move it
into the barn?”
“Oh no, we want to play in it some more,” said
Bobby.
“We must put it into the barn before rain
comes,” said Father. “Come down to the field, you
and Betty. Perhaps there will be some fun today.”
Prince and Daisy were hitched to the big
lumber wagon. Father and Hobson took the wagon
box off and put the wide hay rack on.
“Come, children, climb up on the rack for a ride
to the field,” said Father.
110
On Top of the World
Father held Betty, but Bobby, sitting in the

bottom of the rack, went jigglety, jigglety, shakety,
shake.
And wasn’t it fun!
When they came to the field, Father helped the
children off. Then he drove along beside a haycock
and stopped the horses. Hobson pitched the hay
onto the rack with his pitchfork. Father placed the
hay around so that the load would be even on both
sides. Then he drove on and stopped at the next
haycock.
Higher and higher the load grew.
“Look at Father, Betty,” said Bobby. “He is
almost up to the sky.”
When the load was high enough, Father called
to Hobson, “That will do.”
In the middle of the load, Father pushed the hay
aside to make a nest. A very big nest it was, too big
for a robin, too big for the old brown hen.
Then he called down, “Bobby, how would you
and Betty like to ride to the barn on the load of
hay?”
“That would be grand,” said Bobby, “but we
can’t get up there.”
111
Father said to Hobson, “I’m ready for the

children now.”
Hobson lifted Bobby to the foot of the little
ladder which was at the front of a hay rack. Bobby
climbed up the ladder, and Father reached down
and pulled him up to the top of the load.
“Here’s a safe place for you,” said Father as he
put Bobby in the big nest.
Then Hobson lifted little Betty. “You had better
bring her all the way up,” said Father. “She is too
little to climb the ladder.”
Hobson carried her up the ladder and put her
in the nest.
“You may drive,” said Father to Hobson. “I’ll
stay with the children.” So there they were in the
nest, Father and Bobby and Betty, on top of the big
load of hay.
All the way up the lane they rode.
“We must be close to the sky,” said Bobby.
“We’re on top of the world,” said Father.
Finally, they came to the red barn. The big
front doors were open. Very wide and high they
were, but the load of hay reached almost to the
top.
112
On Top of the World
“We must all scooch down,” said Father, “or it

will strike us.”
So they all bent over flat on the hay while Prince
and Daisy drew them safely into the big barn.
“Now we must climb down the ladder,” said
Bobby.
“Wait a minute,” said Father. “Sit quietly until I
call you.”
Father climbed down.
“Ready, Hobson,” he called.
Hobson took Bobby over to the side of the load.
There was Father standing below him, waiting with
outstretched arms.
“Slide down, Bobby; I’ll catch you,” said Father.
Down the side of the load of hay slid Bobby,
straight into Father’s arms.
Then it came Betty’s turn.
“It’s so high,” she said. “I’m afraid.”
113
“Don’t be scared; I’ll catch you,” said Father.

“Father will catch you,” called up Bobby.
Betty took courage.
Down she slid, down the side of the load of hay,
straight into Father’s arms.
After that load was pitched into the haymow,
they went for another ride and then another, all
day long.
114
Chapter 9
Bobby Forgets
In a chicken coop in the backyard at Cloverfield

Farm, lived Old Speckle with her ten chicks.
It was Bobby’s duty to feed them. Three times
a day—morning, noon, and night—he would take
the basin of cornmeal and water which Mother
had stirred up and would throw it by spoonfuls
into the coop for the chickens.
Old Speckle would call, “Cluck, cluck, cluck!”
and the ten little chicks would come running to eat.
He would throw some corn or wheat in for Old
Speckle.
One morning Mother said, “Here is the
breakfast for the chickens, Bobby.”
“I’ll feed them right away,” said Bobby.
And he meant to.
Taking the basin of meal in one hand and the
115
basin of wheat in the other, he started toward the

chicken coop.
When he was about halfway there, he spied his
new white rabbit poking her nose out between the
slats of the rabbit pen.
Bobby stopped. For a few moments he stood
and watched her. Then he set the two basins down
on the ground and went over to the rabbit pen.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said to himself. “It
won’t hurt the chickens to wait a little while for
their breakfast.”
Bunny was so interesting with her long ears and
her wiggly nose that Bobby stayed fifteen minutes
watching her. By that time, he had forgotten all
about Old Speckle and the chickens.
Next, he went to a corner of the rail fence to see
whether there were any more eggs in the robin’s
nest. He found four blue eggs.
Then to the duck pond he went, to see whether
the little boat he had left there the day before was
still there. It was. He sailed it eleven times across
the pond.
When he was through sailing the boat, he saw
Rover coming through the orchard.
116
Bobby Forgets
“Hello, Rover,” he said, “let’s go to the barn.”

And they went down the lane to the big red
barn, leaving Old Speckle and the ten little chicks
still unfed.
“Why doesn’t Bobby come with our breakfast?”
thought the hungry little chicks.
“Why doesn’t Bobby come with our breakfast?”
thought Old Speckle. “My poor little chicks will
starve.”
Meanwhile, the big rooster found the basin of
meal and the basin of wheat.
“What a nice breakfast!” he thought.
And he ate it all up.
When noontime came, the dinner bell rang.
“Come, Rover,” said Bobby. “Let’s go up to
dinner right away. It’s a long time since breakfast.”
Perhaps it was because he was hungry that
Bobby suddenly remembered something.
He began to run as fast as his legs would carry
him and ran all the way up the lane, Rover at his
heels.
As he ran, he kept thinking, “It’s been a long
time since breakfast! But the little chickens didn’t
have any breakfast at all.”
117
When he came to the spot where he had left

the two basins, there the two basins were, but both
were empty.
He looked over toward the chicken coop.
There was Old Speckle walking back and forth,
putting her head out between the slats every once
in a while and looking greatly distressed.
There were the little chicks saying, “Peep, peep,
peep,” as they tried to find something to eat in the
grass.
Bobby took the basins into the house.
“Mother,” he asked, “did you feed the chickens?”
“No,” she said, “that is your chore, Bobby.”
“But why are the basins empty?” he asked.
Mother could not answer. But at that very
moment, the big rooster crowed, “Cock-a-doodle-
doo! I had a fine breakfast.”
118
Bobby Forgets
Mother stirred up another basin of meal while

Bobby got some more wheat. He took them
quickly to the chickens and threw the food into the
coop.
“Cluck, cluck, cluck!” Old Speckle called.
“Peep, peep, peep!” cried the little chicks, as
they came running to eat.
Bobby watched them until the food was nearly
gone.
“Now you feel better, don’t you?” he said. “And I
feel better, too,” he added.
Which was strange, wasn’t it?
For Bobby had not yet had his dinner.
119
Chapter 10
Rover Goes to the Store
Rover was useful in many ways about the farm.

Sometimes he even went to the village store on
errands.
One morning in summer, Mrs. Hill needed
some meat for dinner. She wrote a note and put
it in a certain basket. With it she put a purse and
covered them with a white cloth. Then she went to
the door and called, “Rover! Rover!”
Rover came bounding up the path.
“I want you to go to the store,” said Mrs. Hill,
giving him the basket.
Rover took the handle in his mouth, trotted
down the path to the road, and turned toward
the village. As he passed the Allen farmhouse, he
saw Sport, a little brown dog with whom he often
played.
120
Sport came running out with a few friendly

barks which meant, “Come on, Rover, I am ready
for a frolic.”
“ ‘I can’t stop to play now. I’m on important business.’ ”
121
Rover turned his head toward his little friend,

but he kept trotting right on with a look that
plainly said, “I can’t stop to play now. I’m on
important business.”
When he came to Mr. Brown’s store, there were
some men standing on the steps.
“Well, Rover,” said one of the men, “what did
you come for today?”
Rover looked at the man but walked right on,
pushed the screen door open, and went into the
store.
“Good morning, Rover,” said Mr. Brown. “What
can I do for you?”
Rover put the basket on the floor and then
looked up. Mr. Brown took out the white cloth and
found the note Mrs. Hill had put there.
“Two pounds of beefsteak. Very well,” he said.
He weighed a piece, wrapped it with paper, and
put it in the basket. Out of the purse, he took a bill
and put some change back.
Then he covered them with the white cloth and
put a brown wrapping paper on top to keep out the
dust.
“You can take this home now. Be careful you
122
don’t lose it,” he said as he held the door open.

Rover took up the basket and went down the
steps.
“A pretty smart dog!” said one of the men as
Rover trotted along.
Down the street he went with the basket held
high from the ground.
Rover could smell the meat, and it made him feel

hungry. But he had never touched anything that he
carried in his basket, and he did not do it now.
When he came to the house where Ned
Hopkins lived, he saw Ned sitting on the fence
whittling a stick.
“I’ll try to make Rover drop that basket,” said
Ned. He whistled and called, “Here, Rover, get it,”
as he threw the stick across the road.
Rover stopped and looked longingly at it. One
of his favorite games was to fetch sticks that were
123
thrown for him, but he did not run after it this

time.
“Come, Rover, old dog,” said Ned, getting down
from the fence, “let me see what is in your basket.”
He patted Rover on the neck and then reached
over to take the basket.
Rover held the handle tightly in his teeth and
growled, “Gr-r-r.”
Ned had never heard Rover growl like that
before.
“Oh, well, if that is the way you feel about it, I
won’t bother you,” he said.
“Gr-r-r-r! You had better not,” growled Rover,
and he started on up the road.
After leaving the village, he came to a house
where a man named Mr. Hook lived all alone. Mr.
Hook was sitting in his front yard as Rover came
along.
“I wonder what is in the basket today,” he
thought.
“Rover, old dog, wait a minute,” he called.
Rover stopped and looked around. The basket
felt quite heavy by this time, so he was glad to set it
down on the ground.
124
Mr. Hook came up and patted him on the head.

“Nice old dog! Nice Rover,” he said. “What is in
your basket?”
He put out his hand to take it. But Rover seized
the handle and started toward home.
Mr. Hook looked up and down the road. There
was no one in sight.
“Here, Ponto! Come, Ponto!” he called, and his
own dog came running out—a big black dog.
“Get him, Ponto,” said the man.
Ponto ran after Rover and attacked him
savagely. Rover had to put the basket down to
defend himself.
Ponto soon found he was getting the worst of it
and turned to run.
Rover chased him down the road, leaving the
basket alone on the ground. That was exactly what
Mr. Hook wanted. He went quickly up to it and
lifted the paper and the white cloth.
“Just what I thought!” he said to himself. “That
would taste pretty good for dinner. The dog won’t
know the difference.”
He reached down to take the beefsteak out.
But Rover had finished chasing Ponto and was
125
on the way back. When he saw the man reaching

into his basket, he ran back as fast as he could go.
“Bow-wow! Bow-wow!” he barked. He looked
so big and savage, and he barked and growled so
loud, that Mr. Hook dropped the meat back into
the basket. But he did not wait to put the white
cloth and the brown paper over it.
Rover took the basket up and walked swiftly
toward home. Mr. Hook stood looking after him
and thinking, “I wish that dog were not so big and
savage.”
Bobby was waiting for Rover under the maple
tree in the front yard, and they walked to the house
side by side.
As Rover set the basket on the floor, Mrs. Hill
picked it up and said, “I wonder why the meat is on
top of the cloth and the paper.”
But Rover did not tell.
126
Chapter 11
The Ducks Go Swimming
“Quack, quack, quack!” said the big white duck

as he started down to the duck pond below the
orchard.
“Quack, quack, quack!” said the six other ducks
as they fell in line behind the leader.
“Let’s all go swimming,” they said.
And away they all went, waddling along in a
procession, one behind another.
But when they got there, the duck pond was dry.
“It is very strange,” thought the ducks. “What
has happened to our pond?”
But all they said was, “Quack, quack, quack!” as
they walked on the dry earth where the water had
been.
Before long the leader started back toward the
farmyard.
127
So all the ducks fell in line and waddled back,

one behind another. They drank from the tub of
water at the pump, but they could not swim in it
because it was too small, and so they could not
keep their feathers clean and white.
Now this is why the duck pond was dry.
For weeks there had been no rain at Cloverfield
Farm.
Every day the sun had shone brightly all day.
The ground was very dry. The grass was dead
and brown. The water tank had become empty. In
the road the dust was several inches deep.
“The plums and peaches are falling from the
trees,” said Farmer Hill. “If it doesn’t rain soon, we
won’t have any fruit.”
“My flowers are dying,” said Mother.
They watched the sky every day to see if there
were any signs of rain.
128
“I see a little cloud,” said Bobby every few days.

“Perhaps it will rain today.”
But the little cloud would float lazily across the
sky and bring no rain.
Every day the ducks would go in a procession
down to the duck pond to swim. Every day they
would find the duck pond dry and come back, one
behind another, and take a drink from the tub of
water at the pump.
And so five weeks passed.
At last, one day, big clouds gathered in the sky.
Bobby saw them first and came running in to
tell the news.
“It’s going to rain,” he shouted. “See the big, big
clouds.”
Mother and Sue went to the door and looked
out.
“It’s surely going to rain,” they said.
“I’ll help put the windows up,” said Bobby. And
he ran to do it.
The men stopped work and put the horses in
the barn so they would not get wet. The hens and
chickens went under the shed. The cows in the
pasture went under the big trees.
129
It was not long before the lightning flashed and

the thunder crashed and the rain came down.
They all went to the big south window to watch
the storm—Father, Mother, John, Sue, Bobby, and
Betty.
“I like watching storms,” said Bobby.
“It is a good sight,” said Father. “Now the corn
and potatoes will grow, and the fruit will stay on
the trees.”
“My flowers will blossom again,” said Mother,
“and we’ll have water in the well.”
“I hope it will make the grass green,” said Sue.
“I hope it will fill the duck pond,” said Bobby, “so
I can sail my boats and the ducks can go swimming.”
As they stood there, suddenly Bobby called out,
“Oh, see the ducks!” There they were in the rain,
waddling around in the pools of water.
“Quack, quack, quack!” said the big white duck.
“Isn’t this grand?”
“Quack, quack, quack!” said the six other ducks
as they shook their feathers and waggled their tails.
After the rain had stopped and the pools had
begun to dry up, Bobby saw the big white duck
start off toward the duck pond.
130
All the other ducks followed, one behind

another. Down to the duck pond they went
and found it full of water. So all the ducks went
swimming and were content.
131
Chapter 12
The Rescue
The day after the big rain, Bobby and Rover

were down at the duck pond.
Bobby would throw a stick out into the middle
of the pond and shout, “Get it, Rover.”
Rover would jump into the water, swim out
to the stick, and bring it back in his mouth. Nine
times Bobby threw the stick into the pond. Nine
times Rover brought it back.
When they had done that long enough, Rover
shook himself to get the water out of his coat and
lay down on the bank to dry. Bobby spied an old
raft lying at one edge of the pond under the willow
tree. “I’ll play on the raft,” he thought.
It was only a few days since Mother had said,
“Never go on the raft, Bobby, unless Father or John
is at the pond with you.”
132
The Rescue
“Oh, pshaw!” thought Bobby. “There is no

danger; I’ll have a little fun.”
For some time he was content to keep near the
shore, just pushing the raft around a little with a
long pole. Then, growing bolder, he thought, “I’ll go
clear across the pond. Mother will never find it out.”
So across the pond he started. Near the middle
the water was deeper, so he had to go to the edge
of the raft and lean over to make his pole touch
bottom.
A little farther, and a little farther, he leaned.
The raft began to tip, and the first thing Bobby
knew, he went headfirst into the water.
Down he went to the bottom of the pond.
When he came up, he was lucky enough to be
near the raft, and he grabbed the edge of it.
“Help! Help!” he shouted. He tried to climb up
on the raft but could not do it.
No one heard him shout except the ducks that
were swimming not far off. They said, “Quack,
quack, quack!” but they could not help him.
Rover, over on the bank, was dozing in the sun.
The first time Bobby called, Rover wiggled his ears
but went on dozing.
133
Bobby shouted again, “Help! Help!”

Rover heard this time and stood up and looked
out over the water.
He saw Bobby clinging to the raft. Quickly, he
jumped into the water and swam as fast as he could.
When he came near, Bobby said, “Oh, Rover,

can you help me out?” He took hold of Rover’s
collar with his left hand but still clung to the raft
with his right hand.
Rover tried to swim toward the shore, but the
raft was so heavy he could not go very fast. So
Bobby let go of the raft, and then Rover could pull
him along.
Bobby clung to Rover’s collar until they reached
shallow water.
“I’m glad you were near, Rover,” he said when
they were on dry ground.
134
The Rescue
Bobby did not want to go to the house and

tell Mother what had happened, but there was no
other way.
“Bobby clung to Rover’s collar until

they reached shallow water.”
135
So Bobby, all wet and drippy, and Rover, all wet

and drippy, went to the house together.
“Why Bobby Hill, what have you been doing?”
asked Mother when she saw his wet, muddy
clothes.
When he told her about getting on the raft,
she looked surprised. Bobby was so sorry he had
disobeyed his mother. He did not like disappoint-
ing her.
When Bobby told her what Rover did, she
turned and patted Rover’s neck and said, “Good
dog, good dog!”
Later, Sue put a blue ribbon on Rover’s collar,
and Mother gave him a plate of cold roast beef
with potatoes and gravy.
“Of course, you will have to go to bed while
your clothes get dry,” she said to Bobby.
So Bobby went to bed in the middle of the day
because he had not obeyed his mother.
136
Chapter 13
Bobby’s Horseback Ride
Of all the horses on Cloverfield Farm, Prince

was the one the children liked best. Prince would
take a lump of sugar from Bobby’s hand and not
bite him. He would let Bobby and Betty come near
and not kick them.
One day Bobby was down in the field where
Hobson was working. When the dinner bell rang,
Bobby said, “Let me ride Prince up to the barn.”
“You might fall off,” said Hobson. “I think I had
better not let you.”
“I can hang on,” said Bobby. “Father lets me ride
sometimes.”
Hobson thought a moment. “All right, if you’ll be
careful, I’ll let you ride this time,” he said. He let Daisy
go on ahead, and then he lifted Bobby to Prince’s
back with the big, clumsy work harness still on.
137
“Hold on tight and go slow,” he said as he gave

Bobby the checkrein.
Daisy went through the gap into the lane and
then up the lane toward the barn. Prince and
Bobby followed.
When Father let Bobby ride up to the barn, he
always walked along beside. But after Hobson had
started them off, he went across the lot to the barn.
So there was Bobby riding Prince all alone.
How big and grand he felt!
When they were partway up the lane, Daisy,
who was in a hurry for her dinner, began to trot.
“Let us trot, too,” said Bobby. “Giddy up, Prince.”
Prince was hungry and thirsty, so when Bobby
said a second time, “Giddy up, Prince,” and pulled
on the checkrein, Prince began to trot.
Father was in the farmyard at the head of the
lane fixing the drill for the wheat sowing.
“I can ride as well as John or Sue,” thought
Bobby. “I’ll show Father I can.”
Up and down, up and down he bounded as
Prince trotted along. Prince was enjoying it, too.
“I’ll give Bobby a good ride,” he thought. And
he arched his neck and trotted proudly up the lane.
138
Bobby felt happy and grand.

Prince felt happy and grand.
Now along the sides of the lane, there were
prickly thistle patches, and in one place near the
head of the lane, there was a low stone pile with
thistles growing up between the stones.
Bobby always kept away from thistle patches
when he was barefoot.
They had gotten almost to the head of the lane
when Prince began to trot faster. Bobby bounded
up and down higher than ever, his bare feet hitting
the horse’s sides at every step.
And then, the first thing he knew, he began to
slide off.
“Whoa! Whoa!” he shouted.
He grabbed a piece of the harness and tried
to hold on, but at every step Prince took, he slid
farther.
139
“Whoa! Whoa!” he shouted again.

Prince slowed up, but it was too late. He turned
his head just in time to see Bobby tumble to the
ground. Then he stopped stock still.
Down on the stones and the thistles Bobby fell.
This was bad enough, but then he rolled against
Prince’s hind foot, a little stunned by the fall.
Father saw Bobby fall and ran toward him,
thinking as he ran, “Oh, what if Prince steps on
Bobby or kicks him?”
And Father ran faster than he had ever run
before.
But there Prince stood and kept his foot as
still as still could be, until Father came and pulled
Bobby away. Then Prince started on to the barn.
“Are you hurt?” asked Father.
“Not much,” replied Bobby, as he rubbed his
bruises.
Father helped him get the thistles out of his bare
feet and legs. There were sixteen thistles.
“That was a grand ride, though,” said Bobby.
They went to the barn together and came up to
Prince at the watering trough.
Father took Prince’s face in his two hands and in
140
his kindest voice said, “You are a wonderful horse,

Prince. Thank you for being careful of my Bobby.
You shall have some extra oats today.”
When Sue was told about it, she found another
blue ribbon and tied it on Prince’s bridle.
141
Chapter 14
The Big South Window
Mother’s favorite place in all the house was by

the big window in the sitting room. It was on the
south side of the house, so they called it Big South
Window.
On bright days the sun shone through it and
flooded the sitting room with golden sunshine.
From it Mother could see green fields nearby and
purple hills in the distance and the blue sky over all.
“I love my big window,” she often said.
She sat there to do her sewing and mending.
She sat there to read and sometimes just to enjoy
the view—orchard and woods, green fields, big elm
tree, purple hills, and blue sky.
One day in autumn, a letter came to Mother
from her sister. “Please come and make me a visit,”
the letter said.
142
“I do not see how I can go,” said Mother. “There

are so many things to be done here.”
“Oh yes, you must go,” said Father. “You have
not had a vacation in a long time. We’ll get Aunt
Martha to come and keep house.”
“I’ll look after the chickens and the ducks,” said
Bobby. “And I’ll keep the wood box full for Aunt
Martha.”
So one day in October, Mother said goodbye
and went away on her long journey. She was to be
gone three weeks.
From the very first, Bobby missed her greatly.
Most of all, he missed her in the evening when she
was not there to tell him a goodnight story. But
for the first week, he stood it very well, his extra
chores helping to pass the time away.
After that, it seemed such a long time since he
had seen her and such a very long time until he
would see her again that he could scarcely wait.
Every morning he counted the days until she
would come home. When the second week had
passed, he could say, “Only seven more days until
Mother comes home.”
That day, after he had fed the chickens and
143
ducks and filled the wood box, he went into the

sitting room and sat in Mother’s rocker and looked
out through her favorite window.
Then he noticed how dirty it was.
“That will never do,” thought Bobby. “Her
window must be as bright and shiny as if she were
here to look at it.”
Bobby washed the big window on the inside,
and then he went outside. By standing on the
kitchen stool and getting Aunt Martha to push
down the upper sash, he could reach the top.
So with feeding the chickens and the ducks
and romping with Rover and looking after Betty
and watching the men at work and playing with
his blocks and trains and reading a book which
Mother had sent him, another week passed.
At last came the morning when it was only a
few hours before she would come.
Bobby could hardly eat any breakfast for the joy
of it.
All morning, he and Sue were sweeping and
dusting and putting the house in order.
Sue picked some pansies from Mother’s pansy
bed and put them in a dish on the dining table.
144
Bobby went to the fence corners and picked

some beautiful red flowers for the sitting room.
Last of all, they washed Big South Window.
After dinner, to pass the time away, Bobby took
his ball and began to bounce it on the side of the
house.
“I’ll see whether I can catch it a hundred times,”
thought he.
Ninety-seven times he caught it. “I’ll soon have
a hundred,” he said. “Won’t that be fine to tell
Mother?”
He screwed up his mouth and threw the ball
again. But instead of hitting the boards, it hit Big
South Window.
Crash went the glass in dozens of pieces to the
ground.
145
“Oh! Oh!” moaned Bobby as he stood looking

at the ruined window.
“Why did I do it? Why did I do it?”
Sue heard the crash and came to see what had
happened.
“It is too bad,” she said sadly.
“I must get another glass put in before Mother
comes home,” he said.
“There is not time,” said Sue. “And probably
there is not so large a pane without going to the
city. But we can pick up the pieces and make it
look as tidy as possible.”
So they picked up the pieces, and Bobby carried
them off to the barrel where they kept broken glass
and dishes.
When Bobby had put the broken pieces of glass
in the barrel, he went into the sitting room. How
ugly Big South Window looked now with the big
jagged hole in it and the glass cracked in all direc-
tions. He felt the chill November air coming in
through the broken pane.
“It will never do,” thought he. “I must get a new
pane put in right away.”
He went to his bank, which was standing on
146
the clock shelf. In it he found four dollars, which

he had been saving for a long time to buy a new
Express Wagon.
“I hope it will be enough,” he said.
There was only one man in the village who kept
window glass—Mr. Barlow, the carpenter. As fast
as he could run, Bobby ran to the village, and as he
ran, he kept thinking, “Will he be at home? Will he
have a big glass?”
When Bobby reached Mr. Barlow’s shop, as
soon as he could get his breath, he said, “Oh, Mr.
Barlow, have you a big windowpane? I’ve broken
our Big South Window.”
“Broken your Big South Window, have you?
Well, that is too bad. I think I haven’t one now,
and tomorrow is Sunday; but I’ll get you one on
Monday when I go to the city.”
“Oh, but it must be put in today,” said Bobby. “I
have the money to pay you. Would four dollars be
enough?”
“I think that would be enough,” said Mr. Barlow.
“But I will have to nail boards over it tonight and
get a big pane on Monday.”
“But I do so want it put in today,” said Bobby.
147
“Mother is coming home on the four o’clock train.”

“So your mother’s coming home, is she?” He
saw the anxious look on Bobby’s face.
“I will see what I can find,” he said.
Mr. Barlow’s shop was piled full of all sorts of
things for building houses. Besides his workbench
and tool chests, there were piles of lumber, bundles
of shingles, odd window sashes, and, in one corner,
some windowpanes. He went to this corner and
looked over the panes.
“No,” he said, “there is nothing big enough.”
Bobby began to look here and there. Behind a
pile of lumber, he found two windowpanes.
“Here, Mr. Barlow,” he called. “Here are some
big ones.”
“Well! Well! I had forgotten about those,” said
Mr. Barlow. He went back there and measured
them. “Almost big enough,” he said, “but not quite.
I remember just the size of your big window. These
lack three inches. I’m afraid you will have to wait,
sonny.”
Bobby tried to keep back the tears, but they
came anyway. He was so disappointed. Mr. Barlow
thought a moment.
148
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said he. “I had some
big windows taken over to Mr. Martin’s new house
this morning. He is going to have two windows
just the size of yours. If they are not yet put in, I
think Mr. Martin will let me take one for you and
get him another next week.”
Bobby and the carpenter went over to Mr.
Martin’s house. They found that one of the big
panes had already been put in, and the man was
just going to start on the other.
“Wait a minute,” said Mr. Barlow. “We may not
want that one put in today.”
Then he said to Mr. Martin, “Will you let me
put that big pane into Mr. Hill’s window? I’ll get
another one for you on Monday.”
“Why not get Mr. Hill’s on Monday?” asked Mr.
Martin.
“Well, Bobby broke their big window, and his
mother is coming home today,” said the carpenter.
“I see,” said Mr. Martin. “Well, in that case, I’ll
help a little boy out.”
Mr. Barlow hitched up his horse and put the big
pane of glass in the wagon. They reached the house
with the big pane all safe.
149
While Mr. Barlow put it in, Bobby stood

watching him and looking at the clock every once
in a while. When it was all done, he handed the
four dollars to Mr. Barlow.
“And thank you ever so much for coming
today,” he said.
“It won’t take as much as that,” said the
carpenter. And he handed a dollar back to Bobby.
“What time did you say your mother was
coming?” he asked.
“On the four o’clock train,” answered Bobby.
“There is time to wash it if you will bring the
things,” said Mr. Barlow.
Bobby washed the inside while Mr. Barlow
washed the outside.
And there was Big South Window, whole and
bright and shiny again.
It was not long before Father and John came up
to the house with Prince to go to the train. Bobby
and Sue and Betty all got into the carriage. Rover
ran along beside it.
On the way to the station, Bobby told Father all
about the window.
In a short time, the train came in sight down
150
the track. In a few moments more, Bobby saw

Mother coming from the train and ran to meet her.
And it was not long before she was home again
and they were all visiting together in the sitting
room. Bobby told his mother about the window.
As she sat in the big rocker near the window,
Mother said, “I saw many beautiful sights on my
trip but none that I like better than the view from
my beautiful, shiny, big new window.”
And then wasn’t Bobby Hill happy!
151
Chapter 15
One Stormy Night
A few weeks after Mother came home, they

were all gathered in the sitting room after supper.
Outside, the rain beat against the windowpanes,
and the wind made a mournful sound among the
evergreens. Inside, all was bright and cheery. In the
coal stove, a fire was burning. On the table a big
lamp sent a bright light through the room.
Baby Betty had been put to bed, but Bobby sat
at the table, reading a new book.
“It is almost bedtime for you,” said Mother.
“Can’t we have a game of dominoes before I go?”
asked Bobby.
Mother looked at the clock. “Just one,” she said.
So they all gathered around the table in the
center of the room—Father, Mother, John, Sue, and
Bobby.
152
One Stormy Night
Father and Bobby were partners. They got two

hundred points first, and so they won the game.
When the game was over, John went down to
the cellar and brought up a pan of apples. Bobby
and Sue went to the attic and brought down a basin
of walnuts, and as they were eating the walnuts and
the apples, they had a merry time.
“I am glad we have such a comfortable place on
this stormy night,” said Mother.
“I always like our long winter evenings,” said
Father.
Bobby was cracking nuts. Suddenly, he stopped
and listened to the rain.
“I hope the squirrels in the apple tree have
plenty of nuts tonight,” he said.
At half past eight, Bobby went upstairs to bed.
Mother tucked him in and told him a goodnight
story. It was about Daniel in the lions’ den that
night.
When she came down, Father was reading his
paper on one side of the table. Across from him
John sat reading a book. Sue was softly playing
on the piano. Mother stopped a moment in the
doorway to enjoy the scene.
153
“Wintertime or summertime, home is best,” she

thought.
Then she took her place in the easy chair, which
John had drawn up for her near the lamp, and she
opened her book to read.
Upstairs, Bobby lay awake for some time,
listening to the wind and rain. Then he fell asleep
and dreamed that he was in the hayfield playing
with Rover, and the sound he heard was not the
storm, but the hum of the mower cutting the
clover.
THE END
154
The Green Woodpecker
by May Byron
The European green woodpecker is a real

country bird, which you are not likely to see near
towns. It is only in woods or among large trees that
you will hear its wild, strange laugh and its tap-
tap-tap upon the tree trunk or catch a glimpse of
its splendid green feathers as it runs up and down
the tree. It is hunting for the insects upon which it
lives. Wherever it can tell, by the sound of the bark,
that there is a hollow and decayed part underneath,
it knows that there will be insects in that hollow
part, and it tears off the bark and gets at them.
The woodpecker is exactly made for this
tapping, climbing life. It has very sharp, hooked
toes, by which it climbs; its tail is very short for
155
The Green Woodpecker
its size and very stiff, which also helps it; and
its breastbone is unusually flat so that it can be
pressed close against the tree trunk. Its beak is
long and strong, and its tongue is so long that it
can reach insects far beyond the end of its beak. It
has also a sharp horny tip with bristles, by which
insects can be drawn out of the deepest holes.
The woodpecker has no nest; it finds a hole in a
tree and digs it a little deeper—that is all. Upon the
soft decayed wood inside, its glossy white eggs are
laid—four to seven in number. It is a curious fact
that the birds of brightest color, such as the wood-
pecker and kingfisher, have pure white eggs—while
quite colorless little birds, like the brown hedge
sparrow, have eggs of the most wonderful blue.
The green woodpecker bird is very fond of ants
and may be sometimes observed upon the ground
hunting for them. It has a bad name for destroying
old trees by making holes in them, but it really
is destroying the insects which prey upon these
trees. And, as it only works upon decayed parts,
the woodman might easily learn from the wood-
pecker which trees are becoming unsafe and need
attending to.
156
Li�le Amish
Schoolhouse
BY ELLA MAIE SEYFERT
ILLUSTRATED BY NINON MACKNIGHT
FIRST PUBLISHED IN 1939

Chapter 1
Martha and David
“David, watch yourself!” a voice shouted. Then,

whizz! A big snowball ripped past David’s broad-
brimmed hat and squashed into a thousand bits on
the rail fence beside him.
The wet snow splashed all over David, stinging
his face and hands. He jumped and looked back.
“I’ll get you tomorrow, Johnny Zook,” he called
to the boy who stood in the middle of the road,
blowing his breath on his cold fingers.
David had been one of the first to rush from
the wide-open schoolhouse door when school
was dismissed at the little Amish schoolhouse.
Boys and girls of all ages came bounding after,
crunching over the snow-covered boardwalk in
their heavy-soled winter shoes, glad to feel the cold
November air on their faces. They were still excited
159
Little Amish Schoolhouse
over the first snow and were eager to get out into
it again. David wanted very much to stay and play
with the other children for a while, but he had to
hurry home to his little sister, Martha, because he
had such good news for her this afternoon.
The other boys were still busily squeezing and
shaping the new snow into balls, while the girls
skipped along in groups, dodging the whizzing
snowballs with screams of fright. They pulled
their big bonnets over their faces and tucked their
woolen shawls close under their chins for pro-
tection. When they dared peek out, they called,
“Good night, good night,” again and again to
groups going in the opposite direction.
Two of the girls were still chasing each other
round and round on the snowy road in front of the
schoolhouse. “Good night, Mary, good night!” The
little girl’s voice was shrill and happy. “See your
face last, Katie, good night!”
David was tempted again to loiter and stay in
the fun, but he thought of the good news he had
for Martha, and with a last warning to Johnny
Zook, “I’ll get you tomorrow!” and, “Good night,
good night,” to the other children, he went on
160
Martha and David
down the country road. As he scuffed through the

wet snow, he gripped his strap of books tightly
under his arm and swung the little lunch basket
that hung by his side.
The cries of the children straggling after him
sounded pleasant to David as he walked quickly
along, especially their Pennsylvania Dutch, “Goot
nacht! Goot nacht!” for this was the language the
little Amish boys and girls spoke at home, before
they learned to speak English at their little red
schoolhouses.
Sometimes they mixed Pennsylvania Dutch
with their English, and it sounded very funny to
other people.
As he hurried along the road, David looked
quaint indeed in his big hat and long trousers, for
he was dressed exactly as his father dressed now
and as his great-great-grandfather dressed two
hundred years ago when he first came to America.
Great-great-grandfather’s trunk was still in
their attic—the trunk which he had brought with
him “way across the water” from Switzerland, two
hundred years ago.
David wore a short jacket, long trousers, and a
161
wide hat. David’s hair grew long over his ears, and
his mother cut it straight across his forehead in a
bang, which made him look like all the other little
Amish boys because they all had their hair cut in
this same way and they all wore the same kind of
clothes.
The little Amish girls all looked alike, too. They
dressed just like their mothers, in long dresses
colored soft green or purple or red, with big aprons
over them. Their little scarves matched their
dresses, and after they became older and joined
the church, they wore little white caps under their
large bonnets just like their mothers, too.
David lived with his parents on a farm not
far from the mountains in beautiful Lancaster
County in Pennsylvania. Other Amish families
lived on other farms all around them. They all
belonged to a group called “Plain People,” because
they lived plainly and dressed plainly, just as their
forefathers did in Switzerland so long ago. And
they were very proud to be like those brave people
who came to America more than two hundred
years ago because here they could worship God in
the way they felt was right.
162
Martha and David
When David reached the lane that led to his

father’s farm this evening, the other children were
far behind. But he called “Good night!” and “Goot
nacht!” as he did each evening when he turned into
his lane, though he knew no one would hear.
Halfway down to the house, David could see
little Martha near the apple orchard. She was
running to meet him with Shep, their dog, who
leaped along happily in the snow as he recognized
David in the distance. David called to Shep, and
then he called to Martha. He knew how much
Martha liked to eat out of his splint lunch basket,
so he saved her a bit of his lunch each day.
Now he held the basket high above his head for
her to see.
“Yoo-hoo! Yoo-hoo!” he called to her.
And “Yoo-hoo!” Martha called back to him
breathlessly. She tried to run fast over the snowy
ground, but her long skirts and big shawl were
hard to manage in the cold and wind, and Shep
reached David long before she did.
“Down, Shep, down!” David scolded as he kept
the basket swinging as high as he could over his
head.
163
“It’s cold,” Martha panted, quite out of breath

now. She found the basket lid hard to open because
her hands were numb with cold, although she was
wearing her warm red home-knit woolen mittens.
But just as David offered to help her, she gave an
extra hard tug, and the lid flew off!
“Ach, shoo-fly pie!” Martha shouted, peeping
under the red napkin that covered it. Shoo-fly
pie is molasses cake baked in pastry and covered
thickly with white sugary crumbs. Martha loved
shoo-fly pie, and when she bit into the crumbly,
sugary cake, it almost smothered her.
“I like cake,” she mumbled as she puffed the
crumbs all around and tried to swallow the dry
mouthfuls.
David was eager to tell Martha his news, but
she was so interested in the lunch basket, he
thought she had forgotten all about it. He went on
ahead with Shep. But as soon as Martha managed
to swallow the last bit of cake in her mouth, she
called after him. “Will the schoolhouse stay open,
David?”
“Yes, yes!” David turned to shout back. “It will
stay open, and tomorrow you go to school with me!”
164
Martha and David
Little Martha had heard so much talk at home

and among other Amish people about closing
their little red schoolhouses and building one
big schoolhouse to take their places that she
was afraid each day she might hear that their
own little schoolhouse was to be closed. Martha
thought and worried about this a great deal
because her small world was made up of going to
church, to weddings, and to farm sales, and for
some time now, she had been looking forward
to next year when she could go to school with
David. And she thought she wouldn’t like at all to
go to a different big school with a lot of strange
children.
Martha’s father and mother would not like this
for her and David because they wanted to keep
their children close to their home and have them
go to school and play with other little Amish
children only so that they would keep to the Amish
way of living always.
When Martha heard David call to her that she
was to go to school with him tomorrow, it made
her so happy she jumped up and down until her
bonnet slipped way back on her head, and what
165
was left of the shoo-fly pie was squeezed into

pieces in her red-mittened hands.
“Go to school! Go to school!” she shouted with
delight then jerked her bonnet back into place and
ran to catch up with David.
Once a year Teacher allowed the boys and girls
who would be old enough to start school the next
year to come to spend a day at school—the tryout
day, she called it—and now Martha’s tryout day
had come! She hurried along with David to tell her
mother the good news.
The big latch on the blue wooden gate in front
of their house was all crackly with ice and snow.
Martha strained with both hands to lift it out of the
notch, and David pulled just as hard at the top of
the gate to help his sister open it.
“A-h-h!” said David, banging the gate behind
him. “It smells like something good is for supper!”
He sniffed the air. “Ah,” he said again as he
breathed in the delicious smell. “I bet it’s schnitz
and knepp for supper.”
Sure enough, when they opened the kitchen
door, there was Hetty, their big sister, dropping
spoonfuls of golden batter from a brown bowl into
166
Martha and David
a pot of boiling ham and sweet apple broth.

The yellow dumplings bobbed around like little
sailboats in the pinkish broth and swelled up to
the top of the pot. Then Hetty clapped the pot lid
on tight to steam the dumplings. She threw the red
tablecloth quickly over the table to make it look as
though supper were almost ready.
“They’ll be done soon,” she said. “Dumplings
boil in a jiffy. Hurry and feed the chickens, David. I
will dish up dinner now.”
167
“And the wood box is empty, too,” Mother’s

voice reminded him from the other end of the
kitchen where she stood leaning over baby Jacob’s
cradle.
Mother agreed with the teachings of their
church that it is a sin to be lazy, and she expected
David and Martha to do their share of work every
day although they were still little children.
All this time Martha was trying to thaw out her
cold fingers over the hot cook stove, hoping that
she would be allowed to play with baby Jacob in his
cradle when her hands were warm again. She had
not yet told her good news. Bubbling over at last,
she leaped across the big kitchen floor to Mother.
“I go to school, Mom, tomorrow!” she cried.
“That is good,” Mother answered, still leaning
over the cradle. “Now, quick, Martha, run down
the cellar steps and fetch up the jar of yeast. We are
going to bake bread tomorrow.”
“Is baby Jacob sick again?” Martha asked as she
came up the cellar steps with the jar.
“No, no—it’s the colic. Set the jar over there on
the table, Martha, and come rock him.”
“SUPPER!” Hetty called just then to Father
168
Martha and David
and David, who were out at the barn. After they

had come and washed up in the basin at the water
bench, the family gathered around the kitchen
table.
It was such a good supper. Martha was allowed
to help herself to everything three times. “Three
helps,” she said, and while she was busily eating,
she almost talked herself hoarse about going to
the little red schoolhouse with David tomorrow.
Mother and Father knew how excited she was and
smiled over her chatter.
Martha was the first to leave the supper table,
and soon she was curled up on the wood box in
back of the stove, sound asleep.
Mother covered her gently with a thick woolen
shawl.
“Sleep, baby, sleep,” she whispered. “I hope our
schoolhouse will always stay for you. We want it
so!”
169
Chapter 1
Martha and David
Chapter 2
Tryout Day for Martha
Martha woke bright and early the next

morning. From the very first minute, she knew
that something wonderful was going to happen
today because she felt so happy and excited. And
the very next minute, she remembered what it was!
SCHOOL! She was going to school with David.
She was going to see Teacher, about whom she had
170
heard so much. She was going to sing songs as they

did at church, and she was going to eat lunch out
of David’s lunch basket! And she could play with
all the little girls.
She dressed in a hurry, smoothed her shiny
brown hair into the braids that would go around
her head, and flew down the stairs to the kitchen.
There she found Mother packing two lunches in
David’s splint lunch basket. It was filled to the top
with hard-boiled eggs, peanut butter sandwiches,
pretzels, schnitz pie, and a big apple for each of
them! It all looked wonderful to Martha, but it did
not tempt her now because she was far too excited
to be hungry.
“Our Martha grows big soon!” Father joked
at the breakfast table as he filled her plate with
sausage and hotcakes. “Next year she’ll be as big as
Hetty.”
But Martha was thinking of her first day at
school and didn’t hear a word he said. She couldn’t
eat her breakfast either and could hardly wait for
the others to finish theirs so that she might leave
the table.
“Martha will try school today,” Mother said
171
with a smile. “We will miss her all day, won’t we,
Hetty?”
At last Martha was putting on her bonnet while
Mother pinned the woolen shawl close up under
her chin and pulled the warm red mittens well
over her wrists to keep out the cold.
“School! I’m going to school!” Martha called
into Grandpappy’s room off the kitchen. “I’m going
to school!” she whispered over baby Jacob’s cradle,
and baby Jacob cooed back at her. “School!” she
told her rag doll, Sally Ann, who was propped up
on the wood box in back of the stove.
David was already at the gate waiting for her,
and they went out, waving goodbye to Mother and
Hetty, who were standing at the kitchen door.
They walked up the hill and down. The first bell
was ringing when they came in sight of the school-
house. This meant that they were not late, for the
first bell always rings out early over the valley to
say that they still had their little schoolhouse.
“Hi there! Wait for us!” David called to the
Zook children, who were on ahead. Martha was
glad to see that little Georgie was with them. It was
tryout day for him, too.
172
When David and Martha caught up with the

others, they all hurried along the road as if their
lives depended upon their being inside the school-
house in good time.
Martha’s heart was going pit-a-pat as David
opened the schoolroom door, and her cheeks were
glowing red from the cold air and excitement. She
kept close to David while he put the lunch basket
on a long shelf in the back part of the room—the
boys’ side of the room—and tossed his books on
his desk.
“Go over to Katie Zook,” David told Martha
quietly.
She crossed the room to the girls’ side. Katie
helped her take off her bonnet and shawl and hung
them on a big hook beside many other bonnets
and shawls.
It was all so new to Martha! She looked
around shyly. Why, the room was larger than any
best room she had ever seen for Sunday church
meetings! In the center stood a big round stove,
with glass doors through which you could see the
bright red coals. The glowing fire made the big
room warm and cozy.
173
On the front wall near the blackboard were two

pictures. Each picture had a flag over it. Katie told
Martha that the man with a beard like Father’s was
Abraham Lincoln. Martha thought his face was
kind, too, like Father’s. Katie said that the man in
the other picture was George Washington.
“Both of these good men had once been
president of our country,” Katie said. Martha was
very much interested in these men.
Until the second bell rang, Martha walked all
around the room with Katie while Katie read to
her the big printed cards which hung high up on
the wall. One said “Be Honest,” another said “Be
Polite,” and another said “Smile.”
As they walked past Teacher, who was writing
at her desk, she looked kindly into Martha’s big
brown eyes, which were bigger than ever with
interest and excitement.
“Good morning, Martha!” she said. “I’m glad
you can visit with us today.”
Then she put down her pen, reached out, and
took Martha’s hands, which were still cold, into her
own to warm them, just as Mother would do.
Soon after this the second bell rang, and it was
174
time for books. The children sat quietly at their

desks while Teacher read from the Bible, and then
they all prayed the Lord’s Prayer.
When they all sang “My Country ’Tis of Thee”
and other songs, Martha wanted to join in, but she
was too shy to begin. When she tried to tap her
foot instead, it would not reach the floor, so she
kept time by nodding her head.
After the singing the children went up to the
front of the room in class groups to recite their
lessons. When it was David’s turn to go up to
history class, Martha felt very proud of her big
brother.
While Martha swung her short legs from the
high desk seat and listened to all the reading
and spelling during the long morning, she grew
hungrier and hungrier and was sorry she had not
eaten more pancakes and sausage for breakfast.
And by noontime, she wished there was even more
lunch in the splint basket that Mother had packed
so full.
Everything tasted so good that before long the
basket was about empty. Then David said, “Listen,
Martha, it’s long until books again. You put on
175
your wraps and go play with the girls. I will play

ball. You play by the girls.”
Martha went out then with the other girls, her
bright red apple clasped tightly in one hand. It was
very cold, and the girls played tag to keep warm,
eating their apples while they ran from one end of
the schoolyard to the other. When Katie’s apple fell
to the ground and rolled in the dirty snow, all the
other girls crowded around her, willing to share
bites of their apples with her.
Martha was especially interested in all the girls
she had never seen before, little girls who were
not Amish and were not dressed as she was. She
thought that the yellow-haired twins, Dora and
Lilly, wore such pretty store clothes.
It was surely a wonderful day for Martha!
Later when Teacher walked past Martha on her
way to her desk, Martha put out her hand to touch
her dress then drew it back quickly. But Teacher
understood and said, “Well, Martha, having a good
time?”
“Ya, it’s goot,” Martha answered. She was so
excited that she spoke Pennsylvania Dutch without
thinking.
176
Then the big school bell rang for books again,

and they all hurried to their desks. Teacher called
the roll of names.
177
Katie Zook—Present. Johnny Zook—Present.

Adam Fischer—Present. Christian Stoltzfus—
Present. David Wenger—Present.
“Where is the present?” Martha asked David,
louder than a whisper. David nudged her to keep
quiet. Then they all started to sing “Beautiful
Snow.” It was such a lively song that Martha was
almost ready to join in, when it was over and
Teacher gave the signal for schoolwork to begin.
During the afternoon Martha heard so much
talk of the great men such as Washington and
Lincoln and Columbus.
When David went up to the blackboard to do
his arithmetic problem, Martha felt prouder of
him than ever. She thought he must be almost as
smart as Hetty, who finished school last winter!
Martha watched David while he wrote a lot of
numbers on the board—her arms folded loosely
on the desk in front of her, her head held firmly
erect. But slowly Martha’s tired head sank down
on her arms. She slept a long time, through all the
pleasant hum of children’s voices, until one of the
big boys poured coal into the round stove. Then
she woke up with a start.
178
“Did I snooze?” she asked David, stretching her

aching legs. “O-oh! Hum! I dreamed of baby Jacob!”
School was over! The boys and girls put on their
wraps, took their books and lunch baskets, and
filed out of the door past Teacher.
“Good night!” Teacher said to Martha, looking
down into her freshly wide-awake eyes. Martha
put out her hand the way she always did at church
when people said “Wie geht’s? [How do you do?]”
“I like school,” she said, brave for a second.
Then, like a frightened deer, she ran down the road
after David.
When they reached home, they met Father on
his way to the barn to shell corn for Mother’s flock
of turkeys.
“Our Martha knows a lot now, so?” he teased,
patting the top of her bonnet. “Her schoolhouse is
a goot place for her! Was it a goot day?”
“Yes!” replied Martha, but then she was too
anxious to see Mother and Hetty. She raced to the
house, threw open the kitchen door, and then,
“Mom! Hetty!” she cried, “it was a goot day!”
179
Chapter 1
Martha and David
Chapter 3
Sunday at the Wenger Farm
Sunday was always a special day for David and

Martha, filled with churchgoing and meeting with
friends and relatives. And each Sunday was always
exactly like all the other Sundays that had gone
before. But this particular Sunday turned out to be
very different, and exciting, too, although it began
in the usual way.
180
Hetty had laid a fire in the best room, and

now there was smoke twisting and curling from
both chimneys on the Wenger farmhouse. This
was a friendly sign because it meant there would
be company to dinner. Someone would come
back from church with the family. And Hetty had
made the best room ready for company. In fact,
the whole house had been made especially neat.
Yesterday the porch boards had been scrubbed
until they were white, and folded strips of old rag
carpet were laid in front of the doors.
There were two front doors to this old stone
farmhouse. And a big dinner bell was on top of
the roof. One door opened into the winter kitchen,
which was kept cool and dark while they used the
summer kitchen built across the porch; and the
other door opened into the best room, or parlor,
which was used only on Sundays or for very special
occasions. The best room had plain, whitewashed
walls and no wallpaper or pictures of any kind.
And it was very large, large enough for church
meetings. Today, however, it was not going to be
used for a meeting, for they were going to the
home of Hiram Stoltzfus for church.
181
Martha was already in the back seat of the

yellow wagon when Mother came out of the house
carrying baby Jacob all rolled up in a warm blue
blanket. While Father held him, Mother climbed
over the high front wheel into the wagon and then
stepped over the front seat to sit beside Martha on
the back one. Then Father handed baby Jacob in
to Mother and put the much-needed little satchel,
in which she carried baby Jacob’s bottle and extra
clothes, at Mother’s feet.
Snuggling close to Mother, Martha tucked the
blankets warmly about baby Jacob. She always
worried about him when they took him away
from home, fearing that he might catch a cold or
something worse.
When they were all settled and ready to start,
Mother called out, “Make a big dinner, Hetty!
Maybe the Zooks will come back with us!”
Hetty was busy sweeping dry leaves from the
freshly scrubbed front porch. She was staying at
home with Grandpappy, who was too feeble to go
to church.
“Don’t forget to turn the best side of the kitchen
rug up, Hetty!” Mother called out again from the
182
back of the wagon as they started off. “For Sunday,

you know!”
David was driving the horse, Cap, today. Father
thought he was old enough now to drive, although
he could not hitch up. He wasn’t tall enough for
that, but while he was putting the bit in Cap’s mouth
and fastening the traces to the singletree, he had
wished so much that they had a shiny, squeaky
harness for Cap like the one on the horse that Hetty’s
young man drove when he took her out riding in an
open-top buggy on Wednesday and Saturday nights.
As the wagon rolled noisily on, down by the
pond and up the long hill and past the little red
schoolhouse, Martha kept her eyes on the school-
house as long as she could see it. Then they turned
out on State Road.
The air smelled damp and weedy. The first snow
that had come so unexpectedly was gone—all but
little patches that were left in the fence corners and
beside tall shocks of corn with yellow pumpkins
snuggling close by. A crisp breeze rustled the dry
corn leaves, making a soft, soothing murmur, and
overhead crows cawed and flapped against the blue
sky.
183
“It’s the end of summer for sure,” said Father,

sighing. “But it was a good harvest, Mother,” he
added as he looked contentedly out over the rich
farmland. “The corn ears burst open when we husk
them.”
“Soon we will have corn mush,” Mother
answered from the back seat, where she held baby
Jacob close to keep him warm and comfortable.
“Mrs. Hurst says she dried some corn last week
already to take to the mill.”
“So?” Father said in surprise. “She beat you to
it?”
Mother and Mrs. Hurst, who lived across the
fields from each other, were always trying to see
who could have the first garden salad in the spring
and the first cornmeal for mush in the fall. But
Mother just smiled at Father’s teasing now because
she knew he understood that she and Mrs. Hurst
were good friends.
As they passed other wagons on the way to
church, the drivers called hello, no matter whether
they knew each other or not! Automobiles
whizzed by them and left them far behind in their
wagon, which moved slowly along. Father thought
184
automobiles were worldly and against the scrip-

tures, and because the Bible told him to keep to
the old ways, he was satisfied with his good horse,
Cap.
But David grew excited over each automobile
that passed, and he nearly fell out of the wagon,
trying to see more of an airplane that was dipping
and whirling overhead. Cap got into the weeds
growing by the side of the road, and Father said
firmly but kindly, “Mind the horse, David.”
David sat back then and kept his eye on Cap.
They were near the Stoltzfus home now, and
they could see many wagons already lining
the roadsides near it—yellow and black ones,
and wagons without tops—buggies, which the
unmarried men drove. Some of the horses had
been unhitched because many of the families who
came a long distance would stay after church to
have dinner.
When they entered the big best room of the
Stoltzfus home, it was crowded. David went to sit
on the right side of the room with Father and the
other men and boys, while Martha went over to
the left side with Mother. They sat on long benches
185
or straight-backed chairs. The women took off

their bonnets but not the tiny thin white caps,
which looked very soft and bright against the dark
clothes all around them.
Before the services started, Mother put baby
Jacob to sleep upstairs with several other babies.
Martha had gone upstairs with Mother, but she
hung back as Mother turned to go down again
after she had made baby Jacob comfortable.
A hush fell over the room as they settled down
with Bibles and hymnbooks on their laps. The
preacher stood beside a small table. He was just
186
one of the Amish men who had been chosen by lot

to be the preacher, and he was not paid.
First, they sang a German hymn. The preacher
read two lines, and the people sang them; then he
read two more lines which the people sang. This
they called “lining the hymn.”
After this there was a long prayer, another
hymn, and then a long sermon followed by
another hymn.
How they all talked after the meeting was over!
Church was not held every Sunday, and they were
so glad to see one another. But they couldn’t stay
much longer now because it was dinner time.
The Zooks went to the Wengers’ home to have
Sunday dinner with them, just as Mother had
hoped they would, and Martha knew that would
mean a good time with Katie, Sarah, Johnny,
Georgie, and baby Christian—Chrissly, they called
him sometimes.
At home Hetty had been busy all during the
forenoon, and as soon as she spied the two wagons
coming rapidly down the hill, she called into
Grandpappy’s room, “Die Bezeihungen kommen!
The relations come!”
187
She had already started to set the table in the

big winter kitchen, and now, as she brought out
the delicious-looking pies, she was glad she had
used the little pinwheel scalloper on the edge of the
crust. They looked as nice as the pies that Mother
scalloped so evenly with her fingers. The noodles,
which had been drying in the sun all morning,
were golden yellow, and the big slices of frying
ham had turned an appetizing brown in the pan on
the stove.
“Whoa!” David called out extra loud as he
drove up to the front gate. He wanted Hetty to hear
him so that she would hurry with dinner. “Whoa,
Cap!”
Then Father took Cap to the barn while Mr.
Zook tied his horse to the wooden hitching post
near the mailbox in front of the house.
The children trailed close behind the women,
and after they had wiped their shoes on the strip of
rag carpet at the door, they stepped across the clean,
scrubbed door sill into the big best room. But they
did not stay there long. They were glad to stretch
their cramped legs after sitting in church all morning
and were soon starting a game of hide-and-seek.
188
David counted out in German. Then “Katie’s

It! Katie’s It!” they all screamed and ran for a good
place to hide.
The children played until they were called to
dinner. The first table was for the grown-ups, and
they ate and talked a long time. The children kept
playing around the porch and kept their eyes fixed
longingly on the dinner table, peeping through
the glass in the kitchen door. They were waiting
anxiously for their turn to sit down at the second
table. When there was a lot of company, the
children always had their dinner after the grown-
ups. It seemed like a long, long time before Mother
called, “Children, come and eat!” And how they
did eat!
Little Georgie left the table first, without even
eating his custard pie. “I eat myself done already,”
he groaned, rubbing his stomach and shuffling out
on the porch. “A-ah!”
“Last one over at the pump is It!” David called
as he left the table suddenly. After a great clattering
of chairs, they all chased after him.
“Sarah’s It! Sarah’s It!”—then a scramble for
hiding places, and all was quiet once more.
189
The men sat out on the porch, chairs tipped

back against the wall, while they talked over their
crops and their schools.
The question of having to give up their little red
schoolhouses was always brought up whenever a
group of Amish people talked together.
The women were busy talking things over in the
kitchen, too, while they washed the dishes. Sunday
was passing just like all other Sundays on the
Wenger farm.
Then suddenly everything happened at once.
Water that Hetty was heating in the big iron pot
boiled over on the hot stove, hissing like a steam
engine. And although Mrs. Zook called to her,
“Take it off, Hetty, quick,” her warning was lost
in the general excitement, for something terrible
seemed to be happening at the barn!
The children began shouting and running
frantically, with the men close behind them,
while a splitting, grinding, swishing sound almost
deafened them, and they could see what looked
like a bundle of clothes props crushed between an
apple tree and the chicken house.
“Ay, yi, yi!” Mother threw her apron around
190
her head and shoulders while she ran with Mrs.

Zook and Hetty to see what had happened. Such
a squawking and cackling! Shep was barking, and
the girls were shouting. “Airplane! Airplane! It
made down fast. LOOK!”
There was more crashing of tree branches and
splitting of wood as the queer-looking machine
settled nearer the ground, and a young man crawled
out of the wreck, looking very much frightened.
“Whoa!” Father and Mr. Zook both gasped as
they ran to help.
“Are you hurt?” asked Father.
“No-o, but I guess I’m in for a lawsuit,” the
young pilot said, looking hopelessly at the wrecked
chicken house. “I’m just learning,” he explained,
as these people who looked so strange to him
crowded round to make sure he wasn’t hurt.
“And something must have gone wrong,” he
added, noticing the little girls dressed just like the
women, the little boys dressed exactly like the men.
Then his attention wandered again to the possible
damage he had done. He started to pull the branches
of the apple tree from under his wrecked machine.
“You’ll sue me, I suppose?” he asked again in a
191
192
bewildered way. But Father and Mr. Zook insisted

that he leave it all to them. They would clear up the
wreckage and help him fix the machine.
“You must be in shock from such a fall,” said
Father. “You don’t worry now. I will treat you fairly.
We are Amish. Our people don’t go to law; we
settle things by the Church.”
Father was still so excited that he waved
his arms in the air wildly in an effort to make
everyone move back out of the way.
“Keep quiet, Shep! David, shoo the chickens
back in the yard. We got to fix this machine,” he
added, bustling about.
Martha and David had never seen Father so
excited, and they stayed close as they dared in
order to see everything that was going on.
The men found that the machine was not so
easy to fix, and the young pilot decided that he
must hire a repairman who had a shop out on the
State Road. When he left, he told Father he would
come back the next day to settle up for the damage
he had done.
“I’ll be back. You trust me?” he asked.
“I trust you,” Father said as they shook hands.
193
All this time, David had been doing his best to

explain about the engine and the whirring shafts to
the girls. Father noticed him now and remembered
how he had watched the airplane dipping and
whirling in the sky this morning while they were
driving to church.
He was beginning to worry about David’s
great interest in automobiles and airplanes. He
did not want him to be dissatisfied with riding in
their wagon and driving their horse, Cap. Father’s
thoughts were interrupted then, for suddenly
someone asked for Georgie, and Georgie was
nowhere about.
“Where is Georgie?” David forgot the airplane
and turned to question Martha.
“Yes, where is he?” Mrs. Zook wondered
anxiously.
“I don’t know,” Martha answered, surprised that
he was not around in all the excitement.
“Georgie! Georgie!” their voices echoed
and reechoed over the fields and back from the
mountains. “Ge-o-r-g-i-e!”
“He is hiding from us!” Martha assured his
mother, who now took up the call herself.
194
“GEORGIE!” But there was no answer. They

looked across the fields in every direction,
expecting Georgie to come out from a safe hiding
place any minute.
“Run, Katie!” Mrs. Zook ordered. “Look under
the beds. David, look in the barn and in the pigs’
pen,” she called after them in a frightened, high-
pitched voice.
Sarah raced across the yard to the stable where
she noticed the door wide open. But Georgie was
not inside, so she sped on toward the old sinkhole
in the wheat field.
Martha got down nimbly on her hands and
knees to look into Shep’s doghouse. “Georgie,
Georgie!” she coaxed. “Come, Georgie!”
Shep sniffed around her, pawing up the ground
and barking quite savagely. “Keep quiet, Shep,”
Martha said, holding a warning finger in front of
his nose. “Georgie scares at you!”
Then she got down to look once more.
“Not here, Shep,” she told the dog as she
sprang up, brushed the dirt from her best blue
Sunday apron, and ran across the yard to look
into the empty barrel that stood on the back
195
porch. “He might have tumbled in here,” she said

to herself.
By this time Father was pulling more branches
from under the wrecked airplane. Could Georgie
have been hiding behind the apple tree when the
machine fell? They all stood around him, breath-
less and shivering in the raw, cold November wind.
“No, no!” Father was sure he was not there, and
a sigh of relief rose from everyone, even though he
hadn’t yet been found.
“Why don’t you ring the bell?” Martha cried
on her way back from her search of the barrel. No
one had thought of ringing the big dinner bell on
top of the house to bring Georgie back, and now
everybody started at once for the kitchen, but
Hetty was first to grasp the rope swinging back of
the kitchen door.
DING, DONG—DING, DONG! The bell
clanged out in noisy, jerky tones across the quiet
country. Hetty thought it sounded twice as loud on
Sunday as it did on weekdays when she called the
men from the fields to dinner.
Ding, dong! It woke Grandpappy up from his
afternoon nap. Tottering across his room slowly to
196
the kitchen, he cried, “What is it?” in a trembling

voice.
“It’s Georgie—he is lost,” Martha told him in
a choked voice, nervously rolling and unrolling
her apron on her arms to keep from crying. Then
she drew the back of her hand across her eyes
and darted out of the kitchen door to look down
Schoolhouse Road for Georgie—but halfway down
the stone walk she stopped suddenly.
“Georgie Zook!” she shrieked. For there he was,
climbing slowly down from his father’s wagon,
which was still standing at the front gate near the
mailbox. No one had thought to look on the back
seat that had been his safe hiding place while he
slept through all the excitement.
“I heard the supper bell,” he yawned, trying to
stand up straight on his chubby legs. “I think I’ll
eat my custard pie now!”
Martha grabbed him eagerly, threw her warm
shawl over his shoulders, and hugged him close.
“Ach, Georgie,” she scolded, “you should not
have hid. But I knew when the bell rang, you
would find yourself! Come, let’s go to your mother,
quick! It’s a big fuss out at the barn, too. Hurry!”
197
198
Chapter 1
Martha and David
Chapter 4
Country Sale
One cold afternoon during the following week,

Martha climbed up on the wood box in back of the
stove to get the old almanac from the wall where it
hung all the year round. Then she dropped to her
knees on the floor, and resting the almanac on the
wood box, she began to thumb the curled pages
over and over again.
199
“Does it say in here when the schoolhouse will

close down?” she asked Mother, who was darning
stockings while she rocked baby Jacob’s cradle back
and forth with her foot.
“Maybe,” answered her mother absently.
Martha kept talking to herself as she turned the
pages. “It must be here someplace, and I’ll find it!”
That very afternoon Martha had heard Father
talking about the school to the young man who
had come back to pay for the damage done to the
chicken house when his airplane had crashed on
it last Sunday. But because neither Father nor the
young man seemed to be sure, Martha thought she
might be able to find in the almanac whether her
schoolhouse would have to close.
She thought because the almanac told every-
thing else, it would surely tell this, too. It always told
about the weather. It told Father when to butcher
the pigs so they would give the most meat and
when to pick the apples so they would not rot. She
knew, too, that David got his history dates from the
almanac, and Hetty found out how to make such
good cakes. So it must surely tell when the school-
house would close down, if only she could find it.
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Country Sale
“Mother!” Martha asked again in a pleading

voice, “does it say in here if the schoolhouse will
close down?”
To get Mother’s attention, Martha banged her
fist on top of the wood box until she winced from
the sting of it.
“Sh-sh, Jacob sleeps!” Mother put her fingers on
her lips.
“No, no, Martha—we hear about the school-
house at church, and we read about it in the papers,
not in the almanac,” she explained patiently.
Martha hung the almanac back on its nail, but
she was still wondering and thinking it over.
“Will the schoolhouse close soon, maybe?
As soon as the dandelions start growing in the
pasture, Mother?”
“No, Martha, we hope not by the springtime.”
“I’m glad,” Martha sighed in a satisfied way.
“Teacher was so nice that school day, and we sang
such nice songs.”
She straightened up, threw back her head, and
hummed and sang a tune as best she could, “Bea-
u-ti-ful snow! Beautiful snow!” Her childish voice
died off in a whisper then started again, “Beauti—”
201
“It’s time for David to come from school,

Martha,” Mother said, looking up at the clock.
“Quick, make ready; he looks for you! Put on your
thickest shawl—it is colder all the time now.”
Martha turned quickly. She had forgotten
all about David. And she must tell him about
the airplane man, too. He had come back, and
David had missed him. She hurried now with
her bonnet and shawl and mittens, and when
the door closed behind her, Mother sighed with
relief.
Turning to Hetty, who was slicing apples to
make applesauce, Mother said, “Martha thinks so
old-like. She hears such a lot and bothers herself
so about the schoolhouse, and she likes Teacher.
So some night we must tell Teacher to come for
supper, shouldn’t we, Hetty? She is good with the
children—and I like her, too.”
The next morning when Martha slipped out of
her warm bed and tiptoed over the cold floor to
the window, she was surprised to see feather snow-
flakes falling over the fields and fences.
“It’s snowing again!” she shouted.
She dressed quickly, leaving her long apron for
202
Country Sale
Mother to button down the back. By the time Hetty

had placed a big dish of sizzling fried bacon on the
table, Martha was down in the kitchen ready to eat.
The breakfast table was laden with good things—
fried potatoes, dried beef and gravy, chow chow,
prunes swimming in thick syrup, bread, butter, and
apple butter tart.
David and Martha liked to eat breakfast in the
early morning darkness with the big lamp in the
middle of the table while everybody talked over
what they had planned to do for the day.
“The almanac predicted snow for today, and so
it is,” Mother said confidently. “But we go anyhow,”
she added with a special smile for David. She knew
David had his heart set on a bright, shiny harness
for Cap, and she hoped there would be one offered
at the sale.
David looked up happily. He had been counting
on the sale.
It was such a treat for him. Mother would write
him an excuse note to leave school at one o’ clock,
something she did not do very often. With some of
the other boys, David would go on to the Weaver
farm where there was to be a sale. He felt sure
203
there would be a shiny harness for sale, and they

would buy it for Cap.
By one o’ clock the snow had nearly all melted.
But everybody knew that the slushy roads
would not keep the crowds of people from going to
the Weavers’ big farm. The Weavers were moving
to a hotel in the city and were selling all their farm
equipment and household furniture.
As soon as they had eaten their lunch, David
and three other boys started out from school for
the sale. As they trudged a shorter way over rough
plowed fields, one mile did not seem so far to go.
Soon they could see the long lines of cars and
wagons around the Weaver farm. Hundreds of
people from all over Lancaster County had been
gathering there for hours for one of the largest
sales of the year.
“When all the people want the same things, it
makes a good sale,” Johnny Zook said wisely. And
David agreed with him and thought of the harness
he wanted for Cap. He hoped not too many other
people would want it.
When they reached the house, finally they saw
that many strangers had come to the sale, too. But
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Country Sale
it was a friendly gathering. Everyone was talking,

and the air was full of Pennsylvania Dutch as well
as English.
Halfway between the house and the barn was a
hot dog stand, a peanut roaster, and a bubbling pot
of cocoa. A kettle of stewed oysters stood all ready
to be sold.
“It smells just wonderful!” the boys kept saying
to each other, hungry again so soon after their
lunch. They sniffed the air greedily.
“I think I will buy some peanuts,” Johnny Zook
said, feeling in his pocket for his money.
He came back to the other boys after spending
his nickel and pressed his cold fingers down into
the hot bag of freshly roasted nuts. “Ah-h! Feels
goot—buy some and try it!” he told them.
But David did not follow his advice. He had
to keep all his savings toward the purchase of a
harness.
The things to be sold were piled all over the
porch and out in the yard so that people could look
them over before buying.
There were old-fashioned beds, quilts, tables,
chairs, stoves, rag carpets, dishes, and pots and
205
pans. There were clocks, too, and canned fruits in

jars, potted plants, and many other articles. The
sign at the farm read “Everything must be sold.”
Mother, Mrs. Hurst, and Mrs. Zook were all
there, in warm double shawls and big bonnets,
while Martha and Katie, snug in their winter
clothing, kept close beside them.
“This way! This way!” the voice of the auction-
eer cried from the front porch, and the people
gathered around him, for the sale was really about
to start.
Jonas Minnich was the crier, and he seemed to
know everyone there.
“Get up close, or you can’t hear me! Get up
close, or you miss a bargain!” he boomed in a voice
that was as loud as a megaphone.
He held up one thing after another, praising
everything highly, and made jokes as he asked for
bids.
“Don’t hold on to your purse strings so tight.
You farmers have lots of money!”
“And we work to get it!” a bantering voice came
from the crowd.
“How will you bid for this brass kettle?” the
206
Country Sale
auctioneer shouted now as he swung the kettle

back and forth before the crowd. “Maybe it’s
gold—looks good for another hundred years. What
will you bid? Twenty-five cents, twenty-five cents—
or do you mean twenty-five dollars?”
Everybody laughed, and he went on calling,
“Twenty-five cents, twenty-five cents, twenty-five
cents,” as fast as he could say it, until the words ran
together in a long, loud mumble, and then it began
to sound to David like “Cents twenty-five, cents
twenty-five, cents twenty-five—”
David was anxious for the crier to get through
with all the house things so that they would go on
to the barn and get to the shiny black harness he
wanted for Cap. He felt in his pocket now for the
two dollars he had taken from his matchbox bank
this morning.
Then, “Do I hear thirty cents?” The auctioneer
waited a second for someone to nod.
“Thirty cents, thirty cents, thirty cents—do
I hear thirty-five? Come now. Forty cents, forty
cents, forty-five, fifty—” and he wheedled bids up
to seventy-five cents.
“Is that all I’m bid for this brand-new old kettle?
207
Great for making ketchup, ladies! Going, g-o-i-n-g,

gone—to the lady standing over there beside the
pump.”
The sale went on and on. Martha and Katie
hopped up and down on their toes to keep warm.
They were having a good time even though they
were chilled through and through.
“Let’s look in the house once,” Katie said.
“Come, maybe it will warm us.”
They strolled through the big bare rooms,
downstairs and then upstairs, until they noticed
the open door leading to the attic.
“It’s the sale up there, too, I guess,” Martha
said. “Let’s look.” Up the rickety steps, cluttered on
both sides with empty flowerpots and bags, they
climbed.
“It must be the sale up here soon.” Katie felt sure
as she stepped into the cold, cheerless attic. “It’s so
full here, too!”
“A-a-h!” Martha drew in a long breath, “smells
just like our attic.”
They could hear the birds hopping and scratch-
ing on the slate roof above and the drone of busy
voices in the yard far below them.
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Country Sale
“It’s a lot to sell, is it not?” Martha said, looking

around in surprise.
Hanging over their heads from the rafters,
they could see bunches of dried peppermint,
red peppers, strings of popcorn, dried beef, little
gourds, big ears of corn, and small bags of dried
apples and cherries.
Katie reached up and squeezed a bag of cherries
slowly.
“Smells goot, Martha—sweet! Here, I’ll hold
you up. Don’t squeeze too hard! Maybe it’s not
goot for them.”
Martha dug her cold fingers into the cherry
bag and breathed in the faint, sweet odor then slid
down from Katie’s arms.
“Look, Katie!” She pointed over to the other end
of the attic. “It’s a ‘Grandpappy’s trunk’ over there,
like we have!”
Back in the dusty corner by the crumbling
chimney, they saw a little old leather-covered trunk
that was studded all over with heavy brass tack
heads, green with age. Fastened around the lid
were two wide leather straps with clumsy buckles.
“Just like ours!” Martha was so sure.
209
“Grandpappy told me how his pappy brought it

from far over the seas when he came to America.”
“Yes,” Katie agreed with her, “far from
Switzerland over two hundred years ago!”
“Let’s look in it,” Martha proposed eagerly.
“Maybe we shouldn’t touch it,” Katie said but
then gave in.
As they lifted the trunk lid up by the straps, the
rusty hinges creaked mournfully, and a delicate
odor of lavender floated around them. They leaned
way over the trunk in order to see more closely a
beautiful, hand-woven quilt.
Martha’s eyes sparkled with interest, but Katie
looked around now anxiously. “Maybe we had
better go downstairs. The sun is going down. See,
it’s getting dark up here already!” And she dropped
the trunk lid with a bang.
“A-a-choo!” A puff of dust tickled Martha’s
nose, and when she opened her eyes, she saw Katie
disappearing down the garret stairs.
“Katie, Katie! My shawl—it’s stuck in the trunk.”
Katie rushed back and tried her best to lift the
lid again, but it stuck tight over Martha’s woolen
shawl.
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Country Sale
“Stand still, Martha; wait for a minute,” she told

her in a motherly voice. “I’ll fetch David. Now don’t
fuss—do you understand?” And she hurried down
the cluttered attic steps as fast as she could go.
In the meantime, everything at the house had
been sold, and the crowd had moved out to the
barn. Several cows, a calf, two horses, a plow,
a shovel, a wheelbarrow, a wagon, a fine set of
harnesses, and many, many other farm tools were
there to be sold.
David kept close to Father, and when the shiny,
almost brand-new harness was put up for sale, he
held his breath. He wanted so much to see Cap
wear a harness like that!
“What will you bid?” came the booming voice
of the auctioneer.
“One dollar, one dollar, one dollar.” David
nodded his head bravely, and the auctioneer
noticed him, small as he was. But then another
head nodded, and David waited. Would it be “one
dollar fifty, one dollar fifty”?
But, “Two dollars!” shouted the auctioneer.
“Two dollars, two dollars, two dollars,” and David’s
hand dropped to his pocket. He felt for the red
211
handkerchief in which he had carefully knotted

his precious two dollars. That was all he had! He
couldn’t bid any more.
In another minute Mother was by his side. “I
can help out with my egg money, David,” she said,
and kept nodding to the auctioneer as she snapped
and unsnapped her old purse.
David’s breath came quickly. They would get
the harness sure, if Mother thought it was so
important.
But somebody else was bidding just as earnestly.
Somebody else wanted that shiny black harness.
David watched Ezra Beiler nod his head.
“Four dollars! Four dollars! Four dollars!
Nobody gives me five?”
David’s hand went up recklessly, but the next
second almost the auctioneer was chanting, “Six
dollars, six dollars!”
It was going to be more than Mother had
thought, after all, so she stopped bidding, too.
David’s two dollars would go back into the
matchbox behind the pewter teapot on the kitchen
mantel, to be saved for another sale day. And
David was so disappointed that he did not hear
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Country Sale
Father’s voice take up the bidding right away.

Not until after the auctioneer’s voice said, “Eight
dollars,” did he hear Father shout, “Nine!”
But Ezra Beiler shouted, “Ten” before the auc-
tioneer had a chance to even take up Father’s bid.
Then came Father’s voice again—this time
stubborn, but careful.
“Ten fifty,” Father cried. And David waited, but
there was no other voice. The auctioneer started to
wheedle again, but the bidding had stopped. The
harness was theirs—Cap’s. David was so happy
he couldn’t talk. Father looked very pleased with
himself as he came over to them and said, smiling,
“It’s a nice harness. Take it to the wagon.”
David reached for it and was off to show it
to Cap. Cap whinnied when he heard the boy
coming. He nuzzled into David’s hand, and David
leaned his cheek against him. Cap was warm and
alive. He understood when you spoke to him and
was glad when you petted him or brought him an
apple. He was much nicer than a car or an airplane.
David put the new harness carefully under the
front seat and went back to Mother and Father. The
nice, shiny harness was all he wanted!
213
Now that the sale was over, everyone was

in a hurry to get home to do their farm work.
Things were piled into autos and carriages until it
looked like a big moving day all along the country
roadside.
David was helping Father tie a shovel and
rake that they had bought to the back of their
214
Country Sale
Germantown wagon. Suddenly he looked up and

saw Katie leaping nimbly toward them.
“It’s Martha. She’s stuck in the trunk up in the
attic!” she managed to gasp.
“Run, David!” Father said. “I’ll come behind
you.”
When David reached the top of the garret steps,
followed closely by Katie, he saw Martha standing
in front of the old trunk, her back toward him,
whimpering and talking to herself.
“Ach!” David stood still, looking almost disap-
pointed. “What are you doing? Why didn’t you stay
by Mother?”
“I—it’s my shawl!” wailed Martha softly.
“Well, unpin the shawl, and you can get up,” he
said.
Martha and Katie had not thought of unpinning
the shawl, and as it dropped from Martha’s
shoulders, she made a quick step forward, only to
be jerked back suddenly.
“It’s my apron, too! O-o-h, it mustn’t tear!”
“Stand still; I will fix it!” David tugged and
tugged at the straps. He knew he must not be
rough or he would break the old leather, but the lid
215
refused to budge. So he took out his pocketknife,

slipped the blade under the trunk’s edge, and poof,
Martha was free.
“There,” he said as he shut the trunk lid lightly.
“You must nose into everything. Now, hurry. It’s
time to go home.”
“There’s no sale up here?” Martha asked, strug-
gling to pin her shawl with cold fingers.
“No, they save these things,” David told her as
he helped her with her shawl. “But hurry. Come, I
have something to show you!”
They hurried down the stairs and out into the
yard. Katie was nowhere in sight as Martha followed
David over to the wagon. Father had just finished
tying the shovel and rake to the wagon as Martha
rushed to him. He looked at her in astonishment.
“Why, I thought you—” he began but stopped
short when he saw Mother coming across the road
carrying a small, low rocking chair held out in
front of her.
Father did not like rocking chairs because he
thought it looked lazy to sit and rock, and he did
not look so well pleased with Mother bringing
home another rocker.
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Country Sale
Mother set the rocking chair down on the

frozen ground with a thud. “It will be good for you
to hold baby Jacob on your knee and play Reite,
reite, Gowliel [Ride, Ride a Horse]! ” she told him.
“I got it cheap!”
Father looked pleasant now. “Just jump in the
wagon. We will go soon.” He tied the rocker on the
wagon with the rake and shovel and climbed up
beside David.
David was proudly showing the fancy, shiny
harness to Martha. “Cap likes it,” he said. “I
showed it to him. He will wear it to church on
Sunday.”
“Giddap, Cap,” said Father, and off they went.
David held the harness partly in his lap, and when
Father saw his shining eyes, he was satisfied. He
chuckled.
“It was a good sale, was it not, David?”
217
Chapter 1
Martha and David
Chapter 5
Christmas
The whole house was aglow with Christmas!

Hetty had given it a special cleaning, even washing
the windows and scrubbing the porches.
Mother’s luscious fruitcake, all tied up in a
white muslin cloth, had been mellowing in a big
brown can for over a month. She had made her
cakes, pies, and pig’s feet jelly the day before, and
218
Christmas
now everything was ready for the great day.

Martha and David had watched all these prepa-
rations with delight. But as usual, Martha showed
her excitement more than did David and asked a
hundred questions, squealing and hopping about
in glee.
“Martha,” said Mother, “run upstairs and bring
down the long brown-paper bundle tied with red
string. It’s on top of my painted chest.”
Martha found four other packages on the
painted chest, too, but she picked out the long one
tied with red string and carried it down the stairs
to Mother.
“O-o-h! Such fluffy, woolly slippers!” she
exclaimed when Mother opened the bundle.
“There,” Mother said, smiling as she handed a
pair of lamb’s wool slippers to Martha, “put them
beside Grandpappy’s bed tonight when he sleeps.”
Martha thought this over quietly for several
seconds. Then she slipped her hands into the warm
lamb’s wool and looked at Mother knowingly.
The next morning, bright and early, Martha
called over to David’s room, “Christmas gift!
Christmas gift!”
219
220
Christmas
“Christmas gift! Christmas gift!” David

answered her, and then there was a race to see who
would be downstairs first.
“Christmas gift!” Mother greeted them and
handed each one a round brown-paper package.
In David’s package was a red jacket and a big
pocketknife.
And Martha received a shiny school box with
three bright-colored lead pencils inside and a box
of very pretty handkerchiefs.
“Hetty and I will make the dinner today,”
Mother reminded Father when breakfast was over.
“It’s a long way to church, over to the Beilers’—so
make yourself ready, David. You will go to church
with Father today.”
“It’s snowing! It’s snowing!” Martha was calling
from the best room, where she was trying out her
new colored pencils.
“Maybe you can bring somebody back from
church for dinner,” Mother suggested to Father.
“Sammy Fasnacht likes to eat, or the Kreider sisters—
they live all alone. It’s a big turkey, you know.”
The snow became deeper and deeper all
morning, and Martha kept wiping the steam from
221
the kitchen windows with her bare hand, for every

time Mother opened the oven door to see if the
sizzling, sputtering turkey was browning properly,
a puff of steam would blow out and cover the cold
panes. Martha wanted to see down the road. The
Christkindl [a gift-bringer similar to Santa] might
come!
The best room was cozy and warm. Baby Jacob
sat on a thick blanket spread on the floor near the
stove, and Martha played with him.
“It’s Christmas, Jacob—Christmas!” she said,
bubbling over with joy. “See your new horse! David
gave him to you. Look! He has a shiny harness, just
like Cap, and his tail is braided with red string!”
But in answer, baby Jacob only tried to stuff his
rattle down his throat as he gurgled and cooed.
“Church must be out now,” Martha thought
aloud, trying to see through the best room
windows this time.
“Oh, here they come! Here they come! Church
is out!” she called joyfully to Mother, who was busy
whipping up the mashed potatoes that were to be
served with the creamed onions, corn, coleslaw,
turnips, and all the fixings of the turkey.
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Christmas
“A big car comes, too! Is it the Christkindl, do

you think, Mother?” Martha asked excitedly.
Mother took another look at the turkey and then
slammed the oven door shut before running to the
window to see for herself. With one swipe of her
apron, she cleaned the windowpane of steam. Yes,
Martha was right! Father’s yellow wagon was almost
at the gate, and right behind it was a big gray trailer.
Mother knew! She had seen the trailer when she
drove to Lancaster.
“It’s the house on wheels—I saw them in
Lancaster once, Martha.”
“Hetty, come!” Martha squealed, beside herself
now with excitement.
Hetty ran across the kitchen floor, and the three
of them, Mother, Martha, and Hetty, crowded close
to the window.
Mother had to keep wiping the steam from the
panes as they watched.
Cap stopped at the gate. The wheels of the
wagon were clogged with snow, and the top looked
like a big white iced cake. Father and David got out
just as the trailer drew up in back of them, and a
man stepped out of the automobile part.
223
Then Father and the strange man, with David

helping, broke a path up the snow-covered walk to
the door of the best room.
“Maybe the Christkindl sends him!” Martha
insisted, still hopeful.
“Mother,” Father said, as he opened the door
and stamped his feet to shake off the snow, “they
want to buy some milk from us for their Christmas
dinner. Do we have some?”
“Some milk!” she exclaimed, too surprised to
say more as she followed Father into the kitchen.
David and the strange man, who was tall and
beardless, crossed the room to stand by the stove.
Baby Jacob, surprised by the stranger, started to
cry, and David picked him up to comfort him.
Martha had forgotten all about baby Jacob, she
was so curious about the house on wheels. She still
had her face pressed against the cold windowpane,
looking out through the storm at another little
girl face pressed tightly against the small trailer
window. Martha could hardly believe what she
saw!
“Maybe they would like to eat Christmas dinner
with us.” Mother found words at last, turning to
224
Christmas
Father in the kitchen. “The turkey is done, and it is

plenty.”
“Ya well, I will ask the man,” and Father went
back to the best room again.
“Well,” said the strange man whom David and
Martha afterwards always called “Mr. Trailer,” “my
wife has dinner about ready, but it certainly would
be fine to have Christmas dinner with a real family
in a real house, and it is certainly good of you to
invite us.”
“Ya well, it is goot,” said Father, as Mother
rushed out to the kitchen to lay three more places
at the table.
So, in another minute, Mr. Trailer was going
back down the snowy walk, and before long the
side door of the trailer opened, and a pair of steps
unfolded and dropped to the ground.
Then a little girl about Martha’s size hopped out,
followed by a woman. They had coats thrown over
their heads, and while the man closed the door of
the trailer, the little girl and her mother waded up
the drifted path and into the best room.
As Mother took their coats, Mrs. Trailer looked
about the pleasant room and drew nearer the
225
stove. “It’s so cheerful and warm in here!” she said.

“Thank you so very much for asking us!”
Martha watched Mrs. Trailer and the little girl
shyly for a few minutes before going nearer. She
thought Mrs. Trailer was almost as nice looking
as Mother, and the dress the little girl was wearing
was pretty.
Mother gave all the coats to David, who hung
them in a row on the wall hooks. Then he hurried
over to Grandpappy’s room to help him to the
window so that he could see the trailer, too.
“It makes me think of the old wagons they had
for hauling when I was a boy, before we had trains.”
Grandpappy was so excited, he had to go over to
the best room to see the strangers, and David led
him. There he talked with Father and Mr. Trailer,
telling them all about the old times, when they
drove eight horses hitched to the old wagons.
“Eight horses to pull the heavy loads over the
mountains,” he said. “And the bells that hung over
the horses’ collars made like chimes. We could hear
them far over the valley. Times change! Ya, well—”
And after this long speech, Grandpappy tottered
back to his room again to wait for dinner.
226
Christmas
While the men talked, Mother and Hetty were

busy in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches
to the Christmas feast.
Mrs. Trailer played with baby Jacob, and
Martha entertained the little girl with her dolly,
Sally Ann.
“Kann sie Deutsch? [Can you speak German?]”
she asked, handing Sally Ann over to her little
visitor.
“I’m Victoria,” the little girl replied pleasantly,
for she thought that Martha had asked her name.
“What?” Martha asked.
“Victoria is my name. What’s yours?”
“Martha. Martha Wenger.”
“That’s a pretty name,” said Victoria. “Let’s play
school, shall we?”
“Yes,” Martha agreed. “And first we sing
‘Beautiful Snow’—like at my school,” she said in
her grown-up way. “You know, my little school-
house might close, and then I would have to go to
a big school. But I like my little school better.”
Victoria didn’t know what to say to this. She
thought a big school much more exciting. Most
little girls wanted to go to a big school.
227
“Why do you have tucks all around your waist

and sleeves and at the bottom of your dress?” she
asked, looking Martha over carefully.
“It’s to let out when I grow, see?” Martha
showed her where Mother had already ripped out a
tuck. “Pop says I grow like a weed!”
At this they both giggled, and their giggles
tinkled across the room like tiny bells, only to be
silenced by Hetty calling them to dinner.
“Look,” said Martha, stopping in front of
Victoria before they went into the kitchen. She
pushed at a loose front tooth with her tongue. “It
wiggles—I must eat slow.”
How nice the table looked! Right in the middle
of it, Hetty had placed a tall glass like a vase, filled
with green celery. The glasses held red-fringed
napkins folded three-cornered, and Martha was
delighted to see that the turkey reposed on the big
purple meat platter that had a peacock painted in
the center.
The long quiet blessing seemed extra long to the
hungry children, who eyed the steaming turkey
over their noses.
Mother held baby Jacob on her lap and had to
228
Christmas
keep pushing her plate out of reach of his clutching

hands.
At last Father stood up and carved the turkey!
“Help yourself! Help yourself!” he said again
and again.
“Mother grew this turkey—it’s a fine bird.”
“Yes, it is,” agreed Mr. Trailer. “But we raise
good turkeys in Canada, too.”
“You are from Canada, then?” Father and
Mother both asked at the same time.
“Many of our Amish people live in Canada
now,” Father told him.
“Yes,” answered Mr. Trailer, “we live in Canada.
Now we are on our way to Florida for the winter—
but we started a little late!”
“Indeed we did,” said Mrs. Trailer, “because
this is a part of the country I should like to drive
through in the summertime. Your Lancaster
County farms must be beautiful. Such fine barns
and houses!”
“Fine, indeed,” agreed Mr. Trailer. “No wonder
Lancaster County is called the ‘Garden Spot of
America.’ And I hear that you are going to build a
big schoolhouse near here soon.”
229
At this Martha stopped chewing and sat with

her fork raised in the air, while David held onto a
turkey leg with both hands.
It was a serious moment. Father crossed his
knife and fork slowly on his plate before he spoke.
“He won’t be joking now,” thought David.
“Ya-a!” Father began. “We have had our little
red schoolhouses for many years, and now the
government is trying to do away with them and
build one big schoolhouse where all the children
go together!”
“That is the new idea in education,” Mr. Trailer
assured Father. “The Township school, they call it.”
“But,” Father argued, “the people must
borrow the money to build the big school. That
is needless—to borrow. Our Amish people don’t
believe that way. Besides, we want our little
one-room schools near our homes so our children
can walk. We want to choose and know the
teachers. We want to choose what our children are
taught.”
There was a silence now, broken only by a
squeal from baby Jacob banging his pudgy hand
on Mother’s plate. Martha lowered her fork, and
230
Christmas
David started to eat the turkey leg. Father thought

a long time before he spoke again.
Then, “It’s like this,” he went on. “Our Amish
people are not well known, and we are not proud
and worldly. We keep to the old ways in every-
thing, and we want our children to do the same.”
“I see, I see,” said Mr. Trailer, realizing how
serious Father was.
“We must keep our little schoolhouses,” Father
spoke again, “so our boys and girls will grow up in
the way we think is right!”
After this, he passed the mince pie around the
table so that everyone could help himself. Then
Christmas dinner was over!
“Look, Victoria, my tooth is still in!” Martha
showed her on their way back to play.
“Why don’t you pull it out?” Victoria suggested,
who was very brave as long as it was not her tooth.
“Uh-uh!” Martha objected, shaking her head.
Just then Victoria’s mother called to her. “We
must go now,” she said, and both little girls looked
unhappy over the parting.
“Thank everybody for such a delicious
Christmas dinner, Victoria.”
231
Mr. Trailer wanted to pay for their dinner.

But, “No, no,” Father refused him, looking at
Mother, who agreed with him with a nod of her
head.
“We help spread the ‘inner light’ today,” she said
quietly over baby Jacob sleeping peacefully in her
arms. “We have plenty, and maybe you will stop
again when you come back!”
Mr. and Mrs. Trailer smiled and thanked them
again as they moved toward the door.
Martha was off in a corner of the room, looking
over her new box of handkerchiefs.
“This one,” she said to herself. “This one with
the tulip worked on it—it’s prettiest.” Then to
Victoria, “Here,” she said, “this is a pretty handker-
chief for church.”
“Thank you very much, Martha. It’s lovely.” Then
Victoria stepped out into the snow behind her father
and mother, and soon two happy little girl faces
were again pressed flat against icy windowpanes,
gazing out at each other until the trailer disappeared
in the falling snow.
232
Chapter 6
Second Christmas
The day after Christmas, which the Amish

people call “Second Christmas,” turned out to be
fine and clear. The snow had blown and drifted
high on the byroad leading out to the State Road.
Soon the delicious, familiar smell of funnel
cakes reached Martha and sent her scurrying to
the kitchen for her breakfast.
Hetty had already made a stack of the buttered
funnel cakes, which she was keeping warm in the
oven while she went on baking more.
She would let the batter run out of the blue
funnel onto the sizzling hot plate, closing the
bottom of the funnel with her finger while she
moved it to another part of the hot plate. Then
she turned the cakes deftly with a queer-looking
paddle that Grandpappy had made out of iron a
233
long time ago. It had a paddle on one end and a

fork on the other.
Breakfast was late this morning because Father
and David had gone right out to clear a path
through the snow, and Hetty was keeping the
funnel cakes warmed for them.
Later, when the snow had settled enough, Father
decided they would go sleighing. “We will take
Mother to the store in town,” he told Martha, who
had been begging for a sleigh ride all morning.
So after dinner he went to the barn to take out
the old yellow sleigh that had stood so long in the
wagon shed without being used. Its runners were
rusty and rough, and the red plush-covered seat
was white with cobwebs and dry straw. It had not
been out of the shed for two whole years now.
The sleigh looked very queer to Martha. She
watched Father from her usual place at the kitchen
window while he brushed the sleigh carefully
before hitching Cap into the shafts.
“B-r-r!” Father came stamping into the house to
put on his long heavy coat. It had a shoulder cape,
just like the kind of cape the Pilgrims used to wear.
The coat looked green from age, but it was good
234
Second Christmas
and warm, and Father would wear it a long time.

“Dress warm, Mother—it’s cold,” he said as he
carried Grandpappy’s brown buffalo robe from the
back of the best room out to the sleigh. He covered
the seat to make it warm for Mother and Martha.
Only Mother and Martha were going with Father,
and they tied blue veils over their bonnets to keep
out the cold air. Martha sat between Father and
Mother. Though she stretched her short legs as far
as she could, she could barely reach the brick that
Mother had heated in the oven and Father had put
on the floor of the sleigh to be sure their feet would
keep warm. After Father tucked the blankets all
snugly about them, they were ready to start.
From the porch where they stood to wave
goodbye, Hetty and David could see Cap plant his
feet firmly as he strained on the shiny, screechy
harness that Father had bought for him at the
sale. The sleigh creaked as it slid along the first
few feet of snow with a jerk. Martha thought the
floorboards were being twisted and torn apart as
she saw the shafts wiggle sideways with every pull.
She looked into Father’s face, expecting him to tell
them to get out of the sleigh.
235
236
Second Christmas
But he did not. Instead, he said, “It will go better

when the runners wear smooth awhile. Soon you
have to hold your bonnets! Giddap, Cap!”
And sure enough, they were going faster and
faster now.
The sleigh runners sang a merry tune as they
slid ever more smoothly over the crunching snow.
Twice on the way to town, Father stopped the
sleigh and got out to knock the big balls of snow
from Cap’s hoofs. It had packed so hard on all of
them that he looked as if he were running on stilts,
and Father thought he might slip and fall, and
perhaps break a leg. He would never want this to
happen to Cap.
As they rounded a long curve still some
distance from the town, Martha could see, a way
off, a long covered bridge across the creek. She
wondered how Cap would ever manage to pull
them through it because there wouldn’t be any
snow on the bridge. But Cap knew what to do.
He pulled the sleigh up the little hill and stopped
just at the entrance to the bridge. Then Father
got out, and after handing the lines to Mother, he
pushed with all his strength at the back of the sleigh.
237
E-e-e-sh-sh-e-e-sh! The sleigh scratched and

scraped over the dry, loose boards of the bridge.
E-e-e-sh-sh-e-eh! Mother shivered at the squeaky
sounds. “I’m glad it’s over,” she said when she
handed the lines back to Father.
“Not so bad when we come home. Other sleighs
and automobiles will carry snow in and make a
track for us, Mother,” Father said comfortingly.
When at last they drew up in front of the
grocery store in town, Cap was frothing around his
harness and steaming in the cold air like a basin of
hot water. So Father threw Cap’s own blanket over
him to keep him from catching cold.
Then they hurried into the store. Once inside,
Martha clumped round and round in her heavy-
soled shoes, looking at everything as she tried to
warm her numb feet. Her legs were so short, it had
been hard for her to keep her feet near enough the
hot brick to keep them warm.
But now she soon forgot all about her feet in her
interest in the store.
Mother had not brought eggs today, as she very
often did, to trade in for sugar, coffee, flour, rice,
or macaroni, because the hens did not lay as well
238
Second Christmas
when the weather was cold, and, too, she had used
so many eggs to bake her Christmas dinner.
“Now, some peppermints for Grandpappy,” she
said to the clerk after all her groceries had been
bought.
“You may have a peppermint now, Martha.
Grandpappy would say so!”
Martha took one of the shiny red-striped
candies and popped it into her mouth as she
followed Father and Mother out to the sleigh. All
the bags of groceries were dropped under the lid
of the seat, and the family bundled themselves
in once more. The sleigh creaked and groaned
again as they started off with a jerk, and soon the
whizzing, singing sound of the runners was music
in Martha’s ears. She did not wear her veil going
home, and the biting wind stung her cheeks until
239
they were rosy as an apple. The peppermint candy,

which was tucked away in her right cheek, made
her mouth feel cold inside, too. Sometimes the
wind got up under her bonnet and almost lifted
it off her head. But she would pull it on again and
then cover her hands quickly under the blanket.
“Our Martha will sleep well tonight!” Father
was sure when he lifted her out of the sleigh in
front of their own blue gate.
240
Chapter 1
Martha and David
Chapter 7
Teacher Learns a Lesson
Winter was over at last, but David and Martha

did not have to look in the almanac to learn this.
There were such lovely signs all about! The days
were much longer again, and fragrant blossoms
floated through the air while robins hopped
jauntily over the soft, crumbling ground. Then,
too, the short tender grass waved by the roadside,
hiding bunches of “Johnny-jump-ups” and
241
dandelions along the rail fences, where Martha

picked them with delight.
David’s school would be over in two weeks,
and when Martha went to meet him these balmy
days of May, she pushed her bonnet far back on
her head to feel the warm, soothing breeze fan her
face. These were all signs of spring that were not
even mentioned in the almanac!
Father was plowing down in the cornfield, and
Mother had already put her onion sets out in her
garden near the cold frame that nursed the early
lettuce. The lettuce was coming along nicely, and
Mother hoped to have some big enough to eat
before Mrs. Hurst did. She hadn’t forgotten that
Mrs. Hurst had had the first cornmeal for mush
last fall.
Mother expected to have an extra fine garden
this year. Way back in March, as she did each year,
she had sprouted boxes of cabbage and tomato
seed on the kitchen window sills, and now these
tiny plants were ready to be set out into the garden.
And they looked so strong and sturdy.
Today, down on her knees in the pleasant
sunshine, she dug hole after hole in which to set the
242
early cabbage plants. Her shovel scraped through

the earth that tumbled out beside her to wait to be
tumbled back again after she had set a plant and
patted its roots down gently but firmly.
Martha was there in the garden with Mother,
and Mother talked to her while she worked.
Martha was tying narrow strips of muslin to
the short twigs that Mother always put up in the
garden to scare the birds away from the seed.
Martha stood back and viewed her tiny white
flags with satisfaction. “Mom, it’s in our pretty seed
book where the tomatoes are red as fire and big as
Grandpappy’s mush bowl. Oh, I think our garden
will do well this summer.”
She retied one slip that had loosened up a bit
and then said, “Look, the birds scare themselves off
now. These work just like Father’s scarecrow.”
“Yes, they do,” Mother agreed. “When David
comes from school, you go along to the pasture with
him and pick some dandelions for supper tonight.”
“That will keep her busy,” thought Mother.
Martha liked the sour-bitter greens the way
Mother fixed them, so she was eager to help gather
some.
243
244
“I’ll get the big market basket and wait at the

gate for David,” she said. “There he comes down
the road now!”
David and Martha swung the large basket
between them as they set out for the cow pasture
that was always so yellow with dandelion flowers in
the spring. However, no sooner had they started to
pick the long, tooth-like leaves than David thought
there might be more leaves on the opposite side of
the pasture.
So across the field they went to where their cows
lay under an immense elm tree on the bank of a
small stream. Here they picked and picked until
they thought they surely had enough in the basket.
But after they had pressed the dandelions down,
the basket did not seem very full, so they started
picking again.
Then, suddenly, “Honk! Honk!” and David and
Martha looked up with a start. Waddling toward
them in a long, wavy line was Mrs. Hurst’s flock of
geese—the long-necked geese that she raised for
goose feather beds and pillows.
“They must have crawled under her fence again,”
said David.
245
“I’m guessing they flew over it,” Martha replied.

“No,” David told her, “they can’t fly high because
Mrs. Hurst clips their wings! But listen, Martha,
don’t run! The old lead goose, Judas, nips your legs
if you do—now mind! Let them go by once. We
stand still.” And they stood as quiet as two statues,
holding the basket between them.
But when Martha saw the old gray gander step
out of line and swagger toward her, she dropped
her hold on the basket and ran screaming across
the pasture. The gander flapped close behind her
until he finally grabbed the hem of her dress and
hung on like a sandbag.
“David! David!” she sobbed with fright. “Judas
will get me! He’ll get me!”
“I told you no running!” David scolded as he
shooed and switched the geese back under the
fence.
David picked up the basket by himself, for
Martha had enough to do to hold up her torn skirt.
“Let’s go home now,” he said, running his hand
through the dandelion greens.
David tried his best to cheer up Martha.
“Grandpappy tells me how his teacher made goose
246
quill pens with his pocketknife to write in school.

See, we need the geese. We need warm feather
beds, not?”
“B-z-z-z-z-z-z!” A big lazy bumblebee flew
around Martha’s head! She put her hand up to
strike it.
“No striking—stop!” David shouted. “Say,
I’m glad the bumblebees are out. It means warm
weather! Now we can go barefoot for sure.
The next thing I’ll do is go fishing! I’ll tell you
something else, Martha. Grandpappy says when
the Indians lived here long, long ago, they had
no bees until someone brought them over from
England.”
“Well, anyhow, he’s a nasty old bumblebee!”
Martha snorted as she struck wildly at the big
buzzer and dashed down the road toward home.
But David soon caught up with her.
“Who’s at our house?” they asked each other
when they spied an automobile in front of the blue
gate.
“Why, it’s Teacher’s car!” exclaimed David.
Martha stood still, her mouth wide open in
astonishment. “O-o-h!”
247
She started to run. Past the orchard, past

Teacher’s car at the gate, on through the back
garden she scampered until she came to the rain
barrel that stood by the summer kitchen door.
Hopping up on the big stone in front of the barrel,
she looked at her tousled hair and tear-stained
face in the deep black water. Then she pushed back
her bonnet, dipped her fingers into the water, and
pasted her hair down very smoothly. Holding on to
the barrel with one hand then, she leaned over and
dashed the rainwater up in her face three times.
Then she dried her face on her apron, mumbling
to herself all the time, “The nasty goose!”
Grabbing her skirt, Martha stepped off the
stone, ran through the kitchen, and opened the
door into the best room where Mother and Hetty
sat talking to Teacher.
“Why, Martha Wenger! Ay, yi, yi!” Mother’s
usually calm voice was filled with dismay, for she
saw Martha wiping the water that dripped down
her face and ran off her nose.
“It was Mrs. Hurst’s old goose, Judas!” Martha
tried to tell them as calmly as she could. “He chased
me all over the pasture.”
248
Then she thought of her torn skirt, which hung

almost to the floor, for she had needed both hands
to wipe her dripping face. Quickly she grabbed at
her skirt and tucked it up.
Mother and Teacher could not help laughing at
her forlorn appearance, even though now her face
was bright and smiling.
“Go upstairs right away, Martha,” Mother said,
trying to smooth things out. “Put on your Sunday
dress. Teacher is staying for supper tonight.”
“What a nice surprise!” thought Martha. She
dressed as fast as she could, all the time wondering
what she would show Teacher to entertain her.
“Maybe she would like my embroidered pillow with
colored wool that says the Lord’s Prayer,” she said to
herself. “No, I’ll take her the hound,” she decided.
The little white china dog mounted on a round
piece of board under a glass case was to Martha
the most beautiful thing in the house. Someone
had brought the hound from the Chicago World’s
Fair to Mother when she was a little girl, and it was
always kept on the painted chest in Mother’s room.
All dressed in her Sunday dress, which was a
lovely dark red that made her face look glowing
249
and bright, Martha grasped her hound tight in her

hands as she went down the steps. It was such a
precious dog—and if she should break it!
“See, it’s a hound!” she said, holding it up before
Teacher, who had baby Jacob in her lap and was
saying a poem to him.
“It’s beautiful!” Teacher said, taking it in her
hand to examine it more closely.
Baby Jacob reached for it, too.
“No, no, you’ll break it!” And Martha set the
prized dog over on one of the deep window sills
while baby Jacob stiffened, turned red in the face,
and let out a cry of defeat. Suddenly he threw up
his arms and bumped Teacher’s nose so hard the
tears ran down her cheeks.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Martha cried and could not
get Jacob out to the kitchen to Mother fast enough.
Then she hurried back to the best room just in
time to see Teacher open a shiny mirror case and
powder her nose.
“You want to see our date stone?” Martha asked
her, trying to think of something interesting to do
next.
“Yes, indeed,” said Teacher. So they walked
250
through the yard and around to one end of the old

stone house to which so many additions had been
built.
“Up there!” Martha pointed with pride to the
flat, square stone beneath the gable roof high above
their heads.
“What does it say, Martha? I can’t read the
German. You teach me, now!”
“Gott gesegne dieses Haus [God bless this
house],” Martha read, “J. W. and A. W. 1820.”
David had told her this many times, and she was
proud to remember it for Teacher.
“Grandpappy’s pappy and mother put it up
there 1-o-n-g ago! He tells me sometimes! You
want to see our black wootsies now?” Teacher was
not sure what “wootsies” were, but she wanted to
see them anyway! Martha thought Teacher was
almost as much fun today as Katie Zook.
They started for the barn to see the little black
pigs, but just then Hetty called them to supper,
so they turned back to the house. Martha was so
happy! It was only when the dandelion was passed
around that she was reminded of her fright from
Mrs. Hurst’s old gander, Judas.
251
During supper Father talked earnestly to

Teacher about the little schoolhouses. “It’s like
the Christmas dinner when Victoria was here,”
thought Martha.
“I hear that they will start to build the big
schoolhouse this summer,” Teacher told Father.
“Ya, well, something must be done!” Father was
sure of that—but what? Neither he nor Teacher
could say. They had already tried so many things.
“You want to see Grandpappy’s sand glass?”
Martha asked Teacher as they left the table. “He
tells the time with it when I carry in his supper.”
Martha took Teacher in to Grandpappy, who sat
in his big chair beside a small table which held the
sand glass and a pewter candlestick. Over on the
window sill, Teacher could see an old fat lamp—
like one her mother had. In New England they
were called Betty lamps.
“Wie geht’s!” she said to Grandpappy, feeling very
glad that she could greet him in Pennsylvania Dutch.
Martha then told her, in English, all that
Grandpappy had to say about the sand glass—that
it told the hours the same as a sundial out in the
yard did.
252
“Oh, he knows a lot!” Martha said eagerly.

Martha helped Grandpappy lift his big Bible
from under the table so that he could open it on
his knees for them to see. In the back part of the
Bible, all the births, deaths, and marriages in the
Wenger family were written in a beautiful hand.
“A man comes here to write them,” Martha
explained. “We pay him. It’s like vines and tulip
flowers running all around the writing, not?”
“Very lovely!” said Teacher. “Beautiful!”
“Now you see the Martyr Book,” Martha went
on as Grandpappy handed his priceless book over
to Teacher, talking to Martha all the time. “He says
it took a lot of men three years to make it!”
Teacher saw that the Martyr Book had been
printed long before the Revolutionary War, in
1748—about the time George Washington was a
boy.
“Grandpappy says it tells how the Plain People,
that’s us, were—were—how do you say it?”
“Persecuted,” Teacher helped her.
“Over in the old country.”
“Very, very interesting,” Teacher said thought-
fully. Then she got up and, after returning the book
253
to its proper place under the table, spoke again. “I

must go home now, Martha. Tell your grandfather
that I liked my visit and I want to come again!”
Martha and Teacher went over to the best
room then for Teacher’s hat and coat, and Martha
hoped that she would see the little pocket mirror
once more. But Teacher had no time for primping.
She said “good night” to the family and thanked
Mother and Hetty for the good supper.
David and Martha stood at the blue gate then
254
and watched Teacher’s little car chug-chug slowly

out of sight. The katydids chirped all around them,
and the frogs croaked down by the pasture stream.
Gray geese and buzzy bumblebees seemed f-a-r
away! It was a peaceful ending to a very interesting
day.
255
Chapter 8
A Day of Huckleberrying
All summer long, David and Martha heard the

carpenters hammering away on the new school-
house out on the State Road. And all summer
long they wondered just what would happen in
September. Would they go to school? And where
would they go to school? Father said there was
enough work for David to do on the farm, if he
could not go to the little red schoolhouse, but he
would not allow him to go to the new worldly
schoolhouse out on the State Road.
Mr. Zook and Mr. Stoltzfus felt the same way
about their children.
It was hardest of all for Martha—to be six years
old at last and then not to be allowed to go to
school when the time had come!
She had lost another front tooth and kept
256
looking at her reflection in the rain barrel to see

the new teeth. She hoped they would all be out by
the time she started to school.
“Do they get the water-smeller to find where the
water is in the yard at the new schoolhouse?” she
asked Mother as they shelled lima beans together
on the back porch.
Martha remembered when Father had a new
well dug last summer. A man, a water diviner,
had carried a forked willow stick all over the yard,
measuring it on the ground and watching for it to
turn up, which was a sign that water ran under-
ground. When the willow stick finally turned, the
well-digger came with his big machine and found
water at this very spot.
Mother did not know whether or not they had a
water-smeller at the new schoolhouse.
“Does the schoolhouse have a bell on it?”
Mother was not sure about that either.
“Will Dora and Lilly Brooks, who have the
bright dresses, go to the new schoolhouse?”
Mother was sure they would.
“Does it have a round stove in the middle of the
schoolhouse?”
257
Mother hoped so.

“Will the pictures of good men hang up on the
wall under the flags?”
Mother thought they would.
“Will Teacher say when it’s book time there?”
“Listen, Martha, I think Grandpappy needs you.”
Mother was glad to put an end to the questions for
a time. “He taps his cane.”
Grandpappy wanted a drink of water. It had
been a trying summer for him because he had had
to stay in bed a great deal, but Martha had been a
wonderful comfort to him. Now he could sit out
on his chair again. During haying time he had
fretted a great deal when he could not watch the
reaper cutting the hay out in the meadow.
“Make the windows open wide,” he had told
Martha. “Then I can hear the reapers and smell the
sweet hay.”
He breathed in the fragrant clover odor that
brought back pleasant memories.
“When I was a boy,” he said, “we cut the hay and
grain by hand with tools—no machines then—and
we started right after sun up. At nine o’ clock we had
some pies or apple butter bread that Grandmother
258
made, and we were sent off to the field with a jug of

cold water.”
Grandpappy was living those days all over
again.
“How we worked! When threshing time came,
we used a flail to beat out the grain on the barn
floor near the haymows. No big thresher to come
puffing up the road to help us! No, no, Martha—
times have changed a lot!”
“You want to make lamplighters now,
Grandpappy?” Martha asked him. “I’ll get the news-
papers ready.” Together they rolled up long strips of
paper into pencil-like shapes so that Mother could
light fires with them and save her matches.
“Now I take a snooze,” said Grandpappy,
putting his head back and settling more comfort-
ably into his chair.
“Will you go huckleberrying tomorrow?” he
asked Martha.
“Yes, I will go. Hetty will take care of you
tomorrow.”
Father’s wagon rolled noisily along the dusty
roadside as it carried Father, Mother, David,
and Martha over to the Welsh Mountains for
259
huckleberrying. Hetty was staying at home to look

after Grandpappy.
Huckleberrying was very exciting for David and
Martha, and they had been up since dawn helping
to get the work done in order to make an early start.
The blistering heat of the midsummer sun
beat down on their crinkly, dry-baked wagon top
as Mother and Martha, sitting on the back seat,
pulled off their big bonnets and fanned themselves
desperately.
“Whew!” Martha exclaimed. “It’s as hot as our
cookstove.”
“Ya, well,” Mother reminded her, “it’s the July
sun, and our almanac calls for hot days now!”
Far across the browning fields that flickered
with heat waves and buzzed with hordes of tiny
insects, Martha’s little red schoolhouse stood in
the shade of a row of tall locust trees at the foot of
the mountains—the school which was so dear to
all the Amish people and was now doomed to be
replaced by a large new township school.
Martha watched the little schoolhouse as far as
she could see it.
“I would be so glad if our schoolhouse stayed
260
open for me, Mom,” she said, fanning her flushed

face harder than ever. “Oh, I had such fun at the
tryout day.” Then, jumping down from the wagon
seat, Martha stood behind Father.
“Pop, do you think I will go to our little school-
house next winter?” she almost screamed into his
ear.
“Ya, well, Martha, you know we try hard to
save it for you. Don’t fuss so about it!” And Father
slapped the lines on Cap’s back to give vent to his
overheated feelings.
“Mother,” he asked over his shoulder, “did you
bring the old cowbell?”
Mother proved she had by reaching down to the
wagon floor and picking up the heavy iron cowbell
tied to a leather strap.
“That’s good!”—Father was joking now—
“Maybe we better tie it on Martha, to keep her
from getting lost in the woods.”
Martha giggled, looked appealingly at Mother,
and as they drove along, she fanned briskly with
her limp bonnet while she tried to steady herself
by pushing hard with her feet on the bumping
wagon floor.
261
“Who-o-a!” Father shouted at last. “We will

hitch here by the roadside and make our way over
the clearing to the mountain.”
He tied Cap in the shade to the stake fence
while Mother and David took the tin buckets
out of the wagon. Each one had a small bucket
in which to place the berries; besides these, there
were two big milk buckets to hold all the berries.
They hoped to pick quarts and quarts of them for
pies and canning—perhaps have some to sell in the
Lancaster market on Saturday, too.
It was not long before they were in the shade
of the cool mountain and stripping the little blue
berries from the low, green-and-brown mottled
bushes into their empty buckets.
At first the berries, as they dropped into the
empty buckets, made little pinging hollow sounds.
“It makes like the rain on our tin roof, David!”
Martha said. “It sounds ping, ping, ping!”
David was squatting on the ground among
the bushes, pulling them over to him and picking
rapidly all around as far as he could reach.
“Yes, well,” he answered Martha, “don’t run
around so much. Stick to your bush—then you get
262
263
some! I get a big mess to sell round at the doors in

Lancaster on Saturday.”
They could see the blue sky through the tree
tops all afternoon, and when the sun slipped slowly
under a cloud for a while, Father felt sure it would
give a gust soon.
“A thunderstorm would cool the air a lot,
though,” he said to himself. “Stick together!” he
shouted warningly to the others every once in a
while when they were out of sight.
By the time the sun’s rays slanted through the
trees with much less heat, the two milk buckets
were almost full of berries.
“Yo-o-ho-o! Yo-o-ho-o! We will go home soon!”
Father called as he emptied the berries from his
small pail into one of the large ones again. “It’s near
suppertime! Look at the sun!”
Martha had filled her bucket and poured the
berries into one of the big buckets only once, and
now she stood in a patch of mountain laurel and
wild honeysuckle that almost hid her from sight.
“A-a-ah! They smell so good,” she said to herself.
“I think I’ll pick some flowers for Grandpappy’s
room—he likes to smell flowers.”
264
Nimbly she broke her way through the white

and pink blossoms. Snap! Crack! Snap! She
pulled them to the right and left until her arms
were filled—and when she looked up, to her
amazement, she was almost out of the woods.
“Why—why, over there’s my schoolhouse. It’s
not far either,” she thought as she stared at it then
started to run toward it.
“I’ll just look at it once and hurry back.”
Her feet felt heavy in high-laced shoes after
running barefoot all summer, so she sat down on
the ground and slipped her shoes off in a hurry.
She tucked them under her arm and sped down
the burning, dusty road to the row of locust trees
in front of the schoolhouse. She spied a big cool-
looking stone and sank down on it, dropping her
flowers and shoes beside it, just as an automobile
stopped before her. The driver of the car mopped
vigorously at his steaming face while his companion
leaned out of the car to look at Martha’s flowers.
“What school is this, little girl?” the lady asked.
“It’s my schoolhouse,” Martha answered proudly,
digging her bare toes into the smooth dust.
“You go to school here?”
265
“I visited once with my David—but next winter,

when I’m six years, I will go here, Pop says.”
Martha moved closer to her then because the
lady looked kind, and Martha wanted to talk about
her schoolhouse.
“You know,” she said, “next winter they might
tear down my dear schoolhouse!”
“No!” The lady seemed greatly surprised.
“Uh-huh—then I will have to go to a great big
schoolhouse—but I like my little schoolhouse best!”
Martha was speaking in great earnestness, but
suddenly her natural shyness overcame her, and
she stepped back from the car looking a bit startled.
“It’s an Amish schoolhouse all right,” the man
266
driving said confidently, “and she knows all about

it, too!”
“Will you sell me some of your flowers?” the
lady asked, smiling down at Martha coaxingly.
Quickly Martha gathered her flowers from the
ground and handed them to the lady. She knew
that Mother often exchanged her garden flowers
with the neighbors, but she never sold them. They
were messengers of goodwill, followed by many
neighborly acts.
“Here, you take them,” Martha said eagerly.
“I’ll get some more where I pick berries on the
mountain again.
“Ach, no!” She refused the dime being pressed
into her hand. “Pop has lots of money—but—but …”
Then she drew closer to the car because the lady
seemed so interested and kind. “Maybe you can
help save my schoolhouse for me. You can talk it
over in your church, like Pop does, and that will
save the schoolhouse.”
The eyes of Martha’s newfound friends lit up
with understanding of her faith in their interest.
“Surely,” the lady said, “we’ll be glad to help you.
We’ll tell your story just as you told it to us.”
267
They said goodbye then and thanked her again

for the lovely flowers.
“Goodbye!” Martha’s happy voice called after
them as she watched the car disappear in a cloud
of dust.
“Now I’ll put my shoes on.” She talked to herself
as she sat down on the stone again. “I must hurry
back and fill up my bucket once. What’s that?”
She strained her ears to listen.
“Ach, my goodness, it’s our cowbell! They’re
looking for me!”
Clang! Clang! The muffled sound of the iron
bell seemed to be drawing nearer as Martha started
off in a great rush.
“Tsk, tsk! Now I have my shoes on the wrong
feet—they pinch like everything!”
It did not take her long to change them, but
when she looked up, their wagon was almost in
front of her.
“Who-a!” There was a loud clanking of harness
and jangling of empty tin buckets as Cap reared up
before Martha.
“Well, Martha,” Father spoke very sternly, “why
didn’t you stay by us? We thought you got tired
268
picking and went home long ago, and so we went

home to see. Now jump in the wagon!”
“Ay, yi, yi,” Mother’s worried voice came from
the back seat. She was so sure Martha had been
lost. “You look so hot! Sit down; I’ll fan you!”
Mother was so glad to have Martha beside her
that she didn’t have the heart to scold her. But
David was not so good-tempered.
“You big goose!” he burst out. “You made me
tip over the big buckets when I had to go chasing
around with the cowbell. Now we only have
enough berries for the pies—that’s all! I told you to
stick to your bush!”
“I—I—saw my schoolhouse when I picked
flowers.” Martha’s lower lip trembled as she tried to
explain. “Then I ran over to look at it, and I gave
my flowers to the kind-looking lady in the great
big car, and—”
“The one we just passed?” David checked her
abruptly.
“Y-e-s, she asked about my schoolhouse and
promised to help save it for me. She liked my
flowers so!”
“Did you tell her that you sat on the boys’ side
269
with me the day you visited school and that you

fell off your seat?”
“That will do, David,” Mother warned him, and
Martha looked up at her gratefully. “It is Martha’s
way to help keep her schoolhouse.”
“Ya, Mother is right, David!” Father spoke up.
“Sometimes the little things count big—you think
that over! Our Martha plants a little seed—now we
wait for the harvest.”
Father slapped the lines over Cap’s back as
he watched dark clouds gathering in the west.
“Giddap! We drive fast now and get home yet
before it gives a gust. Hold on to your bonnet,
Martha!”
270
Chapter 1
Martha and David
Chapter 9
Will the Little Amish

Schoolhouse Stay?
It was September and school time again, but

Martha had not yet started to school because their
little red schoolhouse was still closed, and Father
would not allow her and David to go to the new
schoolhouse that had been built out on the State
Road during the summer.
271
Like many other Amish children, David and

Martha were being kept at home during this time.
They heard constant talk about what the court
would do. Although Father never went to law,
this was such an important question that he had
been going to many meetings to talk over the
school problem with the other Amish men. And
tomorrow, Father and Mr. Zook and Mr. Stoltzfus
were going to the court in Philadelphia to learn
whether their children would have to go to the
new large schoolhouse, which the Amish people
thought too worldly.
But of course, everyone was hoping that they
would be allowed to keep their little red school-
houses for their children.
“Never before,” Grandpappy told David as he
shook his white head and held onto his cane, “never
before have I seen so many schools. When I was a
boy, we had only a few schools and a few books to
learn our ABCs from, and to write and cipher. And
we went to school only a few months each winter
those days,” Grandpappy recalled. “Sometimes our
schoolmaster was the preacher, too. We learned to
say hymns and Bible verses in school.”
272
Will the Little Amish Schoolhouse Stay?
Grandpappy sighed. “Ya-a-a, times change. But

after a while, then they made a school law. It said
you must go to school a long time each winter—six
months.”
“I’m glad of that,” said David, “because I like
school. And now we go longer still. But I wish I
knew where I go this winter! It settles soon, though,
Grandpappy. Tomorrow Father and Mr. Zook and
Mr. Stoltzfus go to the court in Philadelphia—then
we will know! The court will settle if I must go to the
new schoolhouse.”
“D-a-v-i-d!” Martha’s shrill voice trailed across
from the best room. “Mom says for you to come
over here and help her put up the quilting frames
at once.” But David was much too interested in
Grandpappy’s talk to answer her.
Martha waited for a minute; then she started
toward Grandpappy’s room with Shep on a leather
strap beside her.
“Shep trains fast, Grandpappy—just watch
him!” she boasted. “He takes me all around with
my eyes shut tight, just like the seeing-eye dog
I once saw. Shep! You take me back to the best
room now. Watch him, Grandpappy.” And Martha
273
felt her way around the furniture, stumbling and

pulling Shep after her.
Father had brought Mrs. Hurst’s quilting frames
home with him that morning when he went to
the cider mill for a barrel of sweet cider to use in
making apple butter the next week.
Father could not understand why Mother kept
on quilting when she had a chest up in the attic
filled with pretty quilts.
Mother and David set up the quilting frames,
then screwed them tightly to the backs of four
chairs and put in the tulip pattern quilt, so Mother
would be ready for Mrs. Zook and Mrs. Stoltzfus.
They were coming early tomorrow morning to
help Mother quilt while their menfolk went with
Father to the court in Philadelphia to plead for
their little schoolhouses.
“It’s an anxious day for us while you go,” Mother
told Father that night, “and we work and talk together
until you come home.”
It would be an anxious day for Father, too, and
he hoped very earnestly that they would be able
to persuade the court to let them keep their little
schoolhouse.
274
The next morning the sun streamed through

the cheerful flowers on the deep windowsills of the
best room and flickered across the tulip pattern
quilt, where the women sewed and chattered like
school girls on a holiday. It seemed that no matter
what they began talking about, though, it always
led back to talk of their schoolhouses.
Their needles continued to flash in the sunlight,
drawing tiny stitches after them as they quilted
round and round the colorful tulips.
“I hear they will put up a blackboard in our
schoolhouse,” said Mrs. Zook, hopefully adding,
“when it opens up.”
“And it needs a new stove,” Mrs. Stoltzfus
declared.
So they chatted on, always about their little
schoolhouse, while Hetty prepared their dinner.
And above all the kitchen din, the women heard
Hetty singing.
They all joined in the old lilting ballad then,
while their feet kept time under the quilt as if they
were working the treadle of an old spinning wheel.
Suddenly Hetty stopped singing, and they heard
her slam a cupboard door shut.
275
“David! Go up to the attic and bring down a

crock of apple butter,” they heard her say. “We need
some for dinner.”
David felt he was very busy, for Father had
left him in charge of the farm while he went to
Philadelphia, but he bounded up the narrow steps,
two at a time. In the darkening attic, he saw row
after row of apple butter crocks, all tied up in
newspapers—some yellow with age. He picked up
a crock to carry it down the stairs, and as he passed
by the little window near the top of the steps, he
could read on the dusty yellow paper tied around
it:
Lancaster Daily New Era, April 1, 1917
Why, this apple butter was older than he was!
1917! That was the time of the World War! This
would be something to talk about in the history
class when he got back to school!
Holding the apple butter crock carefully in front
of him, he started jubilantly down the stairs.
David never knew how it happened. Bump!
Thump! Crash! Tommy the cat flew out ahead of
him! The apple butter crock rolled down the last
flight and out into the best room, splitting open
276
underneath the quilting frames at Mrs. Zook’s feet.

And David tumbled after, landing on his back at
the bottom of the stairs! Frightened, Tommy sprang
over the empty coal bucket and, with a wild leap,
was in the middle of the quilt. The women screamed
as they jumped to their feet and dropped their
needles and scissors in their hurry to reach David,
who was still lying where he fell. He started to get up
slowly then, rubbing his back under his jacket.
“Nothing is wrong! Where’s my history paper?
Hi, Martha. Don’t tear that paper—history is on
it!” he shouted.
Martha was under the quilt, trying her best to
press the two halves of the broken crock together
around the apple butter, which was so thick that it
had not even run out on the floor.
“Nothing is wrong. I missed a step, I think!”
David assured the frightened women while
he limped over to Martha to rescue the yellow
crumpled paper which was still rounded in the
shape of the crock with the twine around it.
“Here, I’ll take it! It reads of the war long ago. I
want to show it to Teacher sometime!”
“But it’s such a pretty red crock to throw away,”
277
Martha lamented, down on her knees, looking over

the broken pieces.
“It’s all shiny inside and a big roll top to hold on
to. It’s so nice, isn’t it, Mother?”
But Mother was thinking only of David and not
of the redware crock that she had received when
she was married.
When Mother was quite sure that David was all
right, the women went back to their quilting. The
last lap of the tulip quilt was turned over as the
fading sun lit up the west window of the best room
and long shadows played over the porch. They
took the quilt out of the frames then, unrolled it,
and spread it out on the floor for inspection.
“It’s beautiful! My, such fine stitching. I believe
it is my prettiest quilt!” Mother so appreciated the
help Mrs. Zook and Mrs. Stoltzfus had given her.
“I sew the edges; then I put it up in the chest with
the others, for Hetty and Martha,” she added with
motherly satisfaction.
“We will go home now,” both women said,
feeling that their day had been well spent. They
knew that the menfolk would be late in coming
from Philadelphia. “And it’s the farm work to do,”
278
said Mrs. Zook. “But if they bring good news of

the little schoolhouses, I don’t mind!”
“Goot nacht, Martha. See that baby Jacob learns
to walk—he will be big soon, and then you can call
him ‘Jakie.’ Goot nacht!”
Mother decided that they would not wait for
supper until Father returned but would eat as soon
as David had finished the feeding and bedding at
the barn.
“Mom, what is the court Father goes to see?”
Martha asked.
Mother gave David an appealing glance. “You
tell her, David,” she said.
“Ach, well—it’s—it’s where smart men, the men
with high learning, settle things.”
“Like in a best room at church? They sit around
a table?”
“Y-e-s, they sit around a table!”
“I think the smart men will let me keep my
schoolhouse, David.” Martha nodded her head
emphatically with each word. Then she left the
table and climbed up on the wood box, hugging
Sally Ann in her arms, to wait for Father. She
never knew when Mother helped her slowly
279
up the stairs to bed, although it was only seven

o’ clock.
“You drag so, Martha. One more step—lift your
feet—I will hold the candle away from you—that’s
it—now we’re up—over there!” and Martha sank
down on her bed while Mother pulled off her
clothes.
Her sleepy head pressed the pillow without a
turn for a couple of hours. Then she woke up with
a start!
“The sun shines soon,” she thought. “I slept late.”
She pushed down the covers to hop out of bed.
“The sun makes such a funny red light this
morning.”
She bounded from the bed and ran over to the
window.
“Why, it’s a fire!” she whispered. “It makes it
look like the sun is up. Y-e-s! Maybe Sammy’s
barn burns again! No-o, it looks like it’s over at my
schoolhouse. O-o-o-h! Katie said it could just as
soon come down this way.”
With chattering teeth, she tried to dress herself.
“Where’s my stockings? Not in my shoes—” She
saw them hanging neatly on the back of a chair. “I
280
guess Mom helped me to undress!” She could not

remember. “I don’t need to button up all the way—
just two buttons will do!” She thought of the rest of
the family and wondered if Father had come home
yet.
“I must keep quiet.” And she stole down the
steps like a mouse. Her bonnet and shawl, now!
The lamp burned low in the middle of the
kitchen table and cast a light on a dish of shining
red and yellow apples.
“Father isn’t home. He didn’t put out the light
yet!”
She was sure he was not home, for the lock was
not on the door either, and it opened easily.
Martha closed the door gently and stepped
across the porch.
281
“Be quiet, Shep!” she commanded as he stalked

over the grass to meet her. “Quiet!” She put her
finger up before his nose and leaned over him,
looking for his strap. “Come,” she said sternly,
taking hold of the strap, “we will find out if my
schoolhouse is burning down. Be quiet! You see
for me in the dark. Quiet now!”
She continued to command him until they were
way past the orchard. “Quiet! Quiet!”
The red blaze ahead flared up then died down.
Shep barked loudly now and pulled on the strap as
they flew over the round toward the schoolhouse.
An owl hooted mournfully from a hollow tree.
Wh-oo! Wh-oo! “You don’t scare me!” said Martha
bravely. “Not so fast, Shep!”
Coming over the top of the hill, where she had
so often first spied David on his way home from
school, she saw now a wagon outlined against the
white limestone road and the dark sky. As it drew
nearer, Martha stopped. The measured, march-like
beat of the horse’s hoofs sounded unusually loud
through the still night.
“Maybe it’s Father,” she said to Shep. She listened
for Cap’s old clanking harness, forgetting that Cap
282
wore his shiny new one now. The wagon was almost
up to her, and she stepped out of the way to let it
pass.
“Whoa!” Father’s voice boomed out, frightening
her, as he jerked Cap up on his hind legs. “Whoa!
Martha!” He jumped down from the wagon and
gripped her arm firmly. She had never heard him
speak so sternly before.
“What is it? Did Mother—”
“The schoolhouse—it’s burning—look back
there!” Martha’s choking voice told him as she
pointed in the dark.
“No, no, not the schoolhouse—it’s a big pile of
old logs. They burned leaves too near it.”
“Are you sure?” Martha asked doubtfully.
“Ya, I saw it when I passed. They are trying to
put it out. Jump in the wagon, Martha. It’s late.
Soon it will be nine o’ clock already.”
Father walked up to Cap’s head and looked over
the new harness that he had jerked so roughly.
Then he gave Cap a pat on the neck. Shep kept
close beside Father, looking up into his face in an
understanding way.
Martha had one foot on the wagon step when
283
she remembered what she had waited all day to

hear. She stepped back to the ground again and ran
around to Father.
“Do the smart men say I go to my little school-
house next winter?” she asked him meekly.
“The smart men?” Father did not understand.
“Yes—David tells me it’s the smart men in the
court, and they say if my schoolhouse keeps for
me! They sit around a table to say it?”
“S-o-o!” Father understood now. “Ya, they
promise us the little schoolhouse keeps for you.
Now jump in the wagon.”
“Did they shake your hand and promise?”
“Yes, they said we can keep our little Amish
schoolhouse.”
“Oh, my schoolhouse keeps! It keeps!” chanted
Martha, dancing round and round wildly with
Shep barking at her heels. “I will go to my little
schoolhouse this winter!”
Then suddenly she thought of something and
was grave.
“Maybe the kind lady who wanted to buy my
flowers when we were huckleberrying helped keep
it for me. She was such a nice lady.
284
“Anyhow it keeps,” she said over again. “It keeps

for me and David.”
Then she jumped into the wagon, and they
drove home to tell the good news to Mother.
THE END
285
Rose
The
Child
a swiss tale
by johanna spyri
Chapter 1
Rose-Resli
When the little Swiss girl Resli became an

orphan as a toddler, she was sent to live with her
uncle. Her uncle was so gloomy and lazy that
everyone in the town wondered how Resli could be
so happy.
She was now eight years old, and everyone
called her Rose-Resli, for she was never seen
without a rose in her mouth or in her hand.
Resli had such a love for roses, and she gazed
with her merry blue eyes so longingly into every
garden where roses grew that the owners inside
would call out kindly, “Would you like one?” Rose-
Resli, beaming with delight, would stretch her
little hand through the fence and receive her prize
gratefully.
287
The Rose Child
So the child was always seen surrounded

with roses as soon as they began to bloom, and
everyone knew the blooming Rose-Resli and was
fond of her.
She did not see much of her uncle. In the
morning she went to school, and at noon he
usually said, “I shall not be home tonight, but you
will find something to eat.”
But the cupboard was always empty. It was good
that here and there a child at school gave Rose-
Resli apples or pears, or even a slice of bread, and
often when she had to go hungry, she could run
freely to the gardens round about where the roses
grew and gather a few; and in this pleasure, she
would forget everything else.
Again the child had found no supper, but she still
skipped happily across the meadows. It was a bright
summer evening. The butterflies were fluttering
up and down in the blue air; and high above, the
swallows flew round in a circle, twittering, summer-
like; and all about in the meadows, the crickets were
chirping merrily so that Rose-Resli became more
and more glad and jumped higher and higher as if
she would fly away with the butterflies.
288
Rose-Resli
Thus, in a short time, she came to a garden

that lay at a distance on a wooded hill and always
had the most beautiful roses. The garden was
surrounded by a wooden fence, and Rose-Resli
quickly climbed up on the lower rail and looked
longingly into the garden.
“Come right in,” called a voice from behind the
trees. It was the shopkeeper’s wife. “I know very
well what you are looking for. Today you shall have
some more roses.”
Rose-Resli didn’t wait to be asked a second
time. She stepped quickly inside, went straight to
the fragrant rose bed, and looked in wonderment
at all the red and white, light and dark blossoms
glowing and giving forth their perfume. Then the
owner of the garden came up to her. She had many
times before given roses to Resli.
“You have come at just the right time today,
Resli,” she said. “You shall have a big bunch, but
many of the roses are ready to fall, you see, so you
must be a little quiet and not jump so high as you
usually do, or all the petals will fall off the flowers
before you reach home.”
Then the lady carefully cut a rose here and
289
The Rose Child
another there, and then two together, light and

dark red and white ones, until she made a big,
large wonderful bouquet. Rose-Resli’s eyes grew
bigger and bigger, for she had never held anything
so wonderfully beautiful in her hand before. But
here and there the fragrant petals were falling
to the ground, and the bare stems looked so sad
among the other flowers. Rose-Resli seemed quite
alarmed.
“See! See!” said the lady warningly. “You will
have to walk very slowly to your house, or you will
not have three left with their petals on when you
get there.”
Rose-Resli thanked her politely and started on
her way back. This led her past a little hut where
lived the Sorrow-mother, a quiet woman with a
sorrowful face. Rose-Resli had never heard her
called anything else.
“Sorrow-mother,” called Resli, when she saw
the old woman at the window, “See! See! Have you
ever seen such roses?”
“No, Resli, not for a long time,” replied the
woman, and the child went on her way, quite
absorbed in the sweetness and beauty of her flowers.
290
Rose-Resli
As Resli was passing the last house on the road,

the woman of the house, with both of her strong
arms on her hips, looked at the child.
“Well, well, you are really a Rose-Resli today,”
she called to her. “Come, show me your treasures.”
Rose-Resli turned quickly around and joyfully
held her bouquet out to her, but with her quick
movement, the petals dropped from three or four
of the roses and fluttered to the ground. Resli
looked at them sadly.
“Too bad,” said the woman, “but they would be
just right for me. Child, give me your roses, and
you shall have a good piece of bread for them. You
can’t carry them any farther. By the time you get
home, you will have nothing but stems in your
hand. Come, give them to me.”
“All my roses, and not have any to keep?” asked
Resli, quite taken aback.
“You can keep one of them; see, this one.
The others will fall right away. Come lay them
in here. They mustn’t be lost.” Then the peasant
woman held out her apron. Resli laid her roses
in it, all except one, which she placed in the front
of her little dress where she almost always wore a
291
The Rose Child
292
Rose-Resli
rosebud. Then the peasant woman went into the

house and soon came back again with a big slice of
bread in her hand, at the sight of which the child
suddenly realized that she was very hungry.
“Listen, Resli, I will give you some good advice,”
said the peasant woman as she gave the bread to
the child. “Take a little basket, go every evening
where there are roses growing, and ask for the ones
that are ready to fall. Then put them right into
the basket so that you will not lose the petals, for I
need them. So every evening, if you will bring me
a nice little pile of petals, you shall have a good big
piece of bread. Will you do it?”
“Yes, surely,” said Rose-Resli, and started on her
way home, eating her bread with great satisfaction.
When the child passed by the Sorrow-mother’s
cottage again, she was coming along home,
carrying on her back the bundle of wood she had
gathered.
“What has become of your beautiful roses?” she
asked when the child came up to her.
Resli told her the whole story and how she was
going to bring rose petals every day to the peasant
woman.
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The Rose Child
The Sorrow-mother listened thoughtfully; then

she said timidly, “Resli, won’t you come to me
tomorrow, before you take the roses to the peasant
woman? I should like to ask you something then.”
“Yes, I will do that, so sleep well, Sorrow-mother!”
Then Resli went on her way. When she reached
her uncle’s distant cottage, she went into the silent,
lonely room. She closed the door quietly. Like
a little bird, she sought her nest and was soon
sleeping peacefully. She dreamed of her roses until
the bright sun wakened her again.
294
Chapter 2
The Little Helper
The woman to whom the people had given the

name of Sorrow-mother was a very poor widow.
Life was hard for her, but she refused to beg. She
starved and suffered in silence and only told her
troubles to the dear Lord.
Her husband, who had been a tailor, died after
they had their first child—a son named Joseph.
Unfortunately, Joseph fell in with bad friends when
he was a young man. He disappeared and never
came back.
His mother missed him so and prayed for him
constantly. She would not lose her faith that Joseph
would return one day.
The next day, as soon as school was over, Rose-
Resli started off. The child did not own a basket,
295
The Rose Child
but she could pile the roses in her apron. Skipping

merrily along, she came to the large garden where
the shopkeeper’s wife was wandering about among
her flowers.
“Would you like some more roses, Resli?” she
asked the girl. “Come in, there are one or two
more left to give you.”
“Only the ones that are ready to fall,” said Resli,
holding out her little apron so that today she might
not let a single petal fall to the ground.
“Yes, if you like them so, you can have your
whole apron full! Come over here.”
The shopkeeper’s wife led the child to a large
bed full of roses which were wide open or had
already dropped half their petals. Here she cut so
many that Rose-Resli had her apron quite full.
“May I come again tomorrow?” asked
Rose-Resli.
“Certainly you may,” replied the lady. “You
shall have all these that are wide open if you take
pleasure in them.”
Rose-Resli thanked her and ran along, much
delighted.
When she reached the tumble-down cottage
296
The Little Helper
where the Sorrow-mother lived, the child remem-

bered her promise to stop there.
She stepped into the low, little room where the
old lady sat at the spinning wheel. She greeted Rose-
Resli with great friendliness. Then she went to her
window, cut off two red roses from the little rose
bush growing there, and held them out to the child.
“See, Resli,” she said. “I want to ask you if you
will take these two rosebuds also with you. Perhaps
the peasant woman will give you a little more
bread for them, even if it is a very small piece. Will
you do this, Resli?”
“Yes, yes,” the child replied quickly. “Then I will
bring the bread right to you. I will be back again
soon.”
The peasant woman was standing in front of her
house by the wall of her vegetable garden. She had
spread fragrant rose petals out on the stone walls
to dry in the sun. Every year the peasant woman
made a sweet-smelling perfume, and she needed
many rose petals.
“Today you shall have a fine piece of bread,”
she told Rose-Resli as she took the roses out of the
girl’s apron.
297
The Rose Child
“I have two more,” said Resli, holding up high

the Sorrow-mother’s rosebuds.
“Throw them on the others; they are very small
indeed, but perhaps they will have a few petals.”
“But I should very much like to have a separate
piece of bread for them,” said Resli.
“There, take the big piece in exchange for the
roses in your apron, and here is a little one for the
other two. Are you satisfied with this?”
“Yes, yes, really,” Resli assured her. She thanked
her many times and left. She placed the small piece
of bread in her apron for the Sorrow-mother and
immediately bit eagerly into the larger piece, for
she’d had very little to eat at noon, and at night
there was nothing at all. So the whole piece of
bread had come to an end before Resli reached the
little old house. Now she was there and stepped
inside and exclaimed, “Here! Here is your bread!”
The woman took the child’s hand and pressed it
gratefully.
“You don’t know how much good you are doing
me, Resli,” she said. “You see, out in the garden I
have potatoes, which are my only food, but often
my stomach can’t bear them any longer. Bread is
298
The Little Helper
too expensive for me, and so each day I eat almost

nothing. Then I grow so weak that I am no longer
able to spin my cloth to make money. So I am glad
to have this bread, Resli, and I thank you heartily
for it.”
Then Rose-Resli was sorry that she had kept the
large piece of bread for herself and brought only
the small piece of bread for the woman. She kept
thinking in her heart, “Oh, if I had only eaten the
little piece instead of the big one,” and she looked
quite cast down. The Sorrow-mother thought she
was still hungry and wanted to give back the little
piece of bread to her, but Resli said, “No, no, I don’t
want it. I have already had enough. Tomorrow I
will come again.”
Away she went.
On the following evening, she came promptly
back again. Once more the shopkeeper’s wife had
filled her apron with roses, and again the Sorrow-
mother had broken off two rosebuds from the bush
and had given them to Resli. When she reached the
peasant woman’s house and took the roses out of
her apron, Resli said, “Can I have one piece of bread
today, but as big as the two together?”
299
The Rose Child
“Yes, it is quite fresh, so you have a fine piece.

Come with me.”
The peasant woman went into her kitchen and
cut from the large loaf of bread the biggest piece
Resli had ever held in her hand in all her life. She
ran quickly to the Sorrow-mother, and beaming
with delight, she laid the whole piece in the old
lady’s hand. Resli had not taken even a crumb of it.
Like a weight, it had weighed on her heart that she
had kept the larger piece of bread the day before.
Her eyes shone with delight when the old
woman looked in amazement at her piece of bread.
She held it out to the child, saying, “What is this,
Resli? It is surely your bread. Come take it. Just
break off a little piece for me.”
“No, no. I will not take a single crumb of it,”
said the child. “Goodnight, and tomorrow I will
come again!”
“I have no more roses, Resli, but I thank you.
You don’t know how much good you have done
me.”
There were tears in the woman’s eyes as she
called after the child. Resli had noticed this, and
for a moment she became quite thoughtful. Then
300
The Little Helper
something came to her mind, and Resli was glad in

her heart once more. She stood and jumped for joy
and thought out what she would do the next day.
Soon the shopkeeper’s wife had no more roses,
but Resli in her walkings had come to know many
other gardens. She had no trouble finding other
roses that people happily gave to her. So every
evening she brought her apron full of roses to the
peasant woman and received every time her piece
of bread, which was larger than smaller, for the
peasant woman was very much pleased with Resli’s
roses.
Resli never ate any of the bread. The Sorrow-
mother had to have it all, although she objected
and wanted to share it with the child. From time
to time, Resli would ask, “Sorrow-mother, is the
bread doing you good?”
Then the poor woman would tell her again and
again how much stronger she felt since she had
bread to eat every day. How much more she could
spin and earn so that she would not have to suffer
with the cold in the winter as she usually did.
Finally, she always said, “If only I could repay
you for what you are doing for me, Resli!”
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The Rose Child
But Resli’s face beamed with such delight that

one could see that she already had received the
best reward.
Thus it went on until the time of roses was over.
One evening, when Resli had run far and wide
and had looked into all the gardens in vain, big
tears came into her eyes as she saw that the roses
were all gone.
Full of sorrow, she went to tell the peasant
woman that she could not bring any more roses.
“Promise me,” said the peasant woman, “that
next summer you will again bring me many
beautiful roses, and you shall have your piece of
bread every day all through the winter. Will you do
it?”
Then her tears were quickly dried, and Resli
beamed with delight.
“Yes, indeed. I will!”
“Well then, here is your piece of bread, and now
it is time for apples. You must have some of those.
There, Resli.” The peasant woman handed Resli a
big slice of bread and a red apple.
In the highest glee, Resli ran off with her
treasures, and the peasant woman gazed after her
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The Little Helper
with gratification, for she was fond of Resli and

delighted that she was so happy.
The Sorrow-mother, too, had a happy evening.
When Resli, who always brought sunshine into
the old woman’s lonely room, told her everything
she had arranged with the peasant woman, the
Sorrow-mother folded her hands and silently
thanked the dear Lord for having sent the child
like a good angel to her.
303
Chapter 3
Rose-Resli’s Trouble
Some days later it appeared as if a wonderful

change had taken place. It was as if the Sorrow-
mother and Rose-Resli had changed natures. The
woman was sitting with a calm, happy face by her
spinning wheel. Then Resli stepped in, looking
as troubled as if something had happened which
would take away her joy for all time.
“What is the matter, Resli?” asked the Sorrow-
mother in alarm.
“I have a hole in my dress,” she cried out. “At
school the children all laughed at me. They ran
behind me and made fun of me.”
Tears rolled down Resli’s cheeks.
“It was not nice of the children to laugh at
you. Come here, Resli. Show me the hole. We will
304
mend it,” said the Sorrow-mother comfortingly.

Resli stepped up to her, and she did not have to
hunt long to find the hole, for it was very large. The
kind old woman had the child sit down on a stool,
brought her thread and a needle, and began the
work immediately.
But Resli could not forget her trouble at once
and sobbed aloud.
“Be comforted, Resli,” said the Sorrow-mother
kindly. “Such trouble shall never happen to you
again. I will look at your little dress carefully every
evening and mend every little hole at once. If you
catch it and it tears, come quickly to me, and I will
make it whole right away. Now, can you be happy
again?”
“Yes, I can be now,” said Resli, quite consoled.
“But what if something else happens at school and
the children make fun of me?”
“When we are in the midst of trouble and
sorrow, we should seek our Father in Heaven, who
stands by us and hears when we call. Do you pray
to Him, Resli?”
The child thought for a moment; then she said,
“Yes, in school.”
305
The Rose Child
306
“What do you pray in school?”

Resli took a breath and began:
“How the morning hour rejoices
Those that wake and praise the Lord:
Thankful hearts and happy voices
With His children well accord.
“Now I don’t know any more lines.”
“It is a beautiful little verse, but you said it
rather fast. Have you thought what it means?”
“No, I have not,” replied Resli.
“You see, it means that when you awake in the
morning, you should think of the dear Lord the
first thing and rejoice and thank Him for having
protected you all through the night. That is the way
to pray in the morning, but do you know a little
prayer for the evening?”
“No, I do not know any.”
“Then you can only pray from your heart to the
dear Lord and ask Him to forgive you if you have
done anything wrong during the day, and ask Him
to help you so you will not do it again. You see,
Resli, when we can pray right to the dear Lord,
we become quite happy again. If I did not do that
always, I should have died from trouble long ago.”
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The Rose Child
“Why?” asked Resli, wondering.

“You see, I have had cause enough. I am so
poor and have hardly enough to live on. Besides, I
have a child, a son, and I know nothing about him.
Perhaps he is dying in poverty or has already died.
If I did not lean on the Lord every evening, I could
never go to sleep. I would be too anxious and full
of grief, but when I pray, I am so comforted, and
trust comes into my heart.”
“I will help you pray for him,” said Resli.
“That delights me, child. That delights me. If
you pray for Joseph, it will be good for you, too.
For you will need the strength, especially now.”
“Why?”
“See, my child,” began the Sorrow-mother,
“your uncle has done wrong, and they say that
his house and land will be taken away from him.
Then you will have to go work for and live with
strangers.”
“Then I will come and live with you,” said Resli,
more pleased than troubled.
“Oh, you dear child, I couldn’t take care of you
at all—something quite different will happen, but
we will tell the dear Lord about it, and He will
308
provide for you. Look, your dress is all mended. If

you need anything again, come to me, and I will
help you.”
Resli thanked her politely and ran away with a
lightened heart.
Resli did not forget her promise, for when she
lay down to sleep, she prayed quite loud and from
her heart, “Dear Lord, do help Joseph.”
A long, hard winter followed. The Sorrow-
mother had to suffer much from the cold, but not
from hunger, as in years before, so she kept what
little health she had.
Rose-Resli was her support and her breadwinner.
In the late autumn, she had seen the Sorrow-mother
with the greatest effort dragging home a little
bundle of wood. Since then, she had gone every day
into the forest and found so much wood that the
Sorrow-mother was able to make a fire every day in
her little room and stay warm.
Every evening after school, in spite of the cold,
storm, or snow, Rose-Resli appeared at the peasant
woman’s house, many a time quite blue from the
cold and shivering in every limb. Although she
had been given another dress for the winter, it was
309
The Rose Child
not very warm, and she had only a thin shawl over
her neck and shoulders.
So when the peasant woman saw the child
shivering and with her teeth chattering so from the
cold, she thought she must be suffering from hunger
to come running through storm and tempest for the
sake of a piece of bread. This made her sorry, and
she cut deep into the loaf so that the piece was even
larger than it had ever been in the summer.
But the child carried it all to the Sorrow-mother
and would not eat half of it like the Sorrow-mother
wanted her to.
If Resli often went hungry to bed, she was glad
that the Sorrow-mother was not in need, and she
prayed, “Dear Lord, help Joseph!” and went to
sleep happy.
Under the Sorrow-mother’s care, her little frock
remained in good condition all winter long, and
the school children no longer laughed at her.
310
Chapter 4
Something Unexpected
Summer had come again, and in all the

gardens, the roses were blooming and giving forth
their fragrance. They were in full bloom in all the
beds, and they nodded down from the flowerpots
in all the windows. It was a great rose year. The
summer evening lay brightly over the town and
all the meadows and woods round about. The
golden evening sunlight shone on Resli’s little
house, and its glittering windows could be seen
from far away.
But in front of it, two men were standing with
thoughtful faces. One was Resli’s uncle. He thought
that in the morning the house, the fields, and the
goat would all be taken away from him because he
was so deep in debt.
311
The Rose Child
Resli’s uncle thrust both hands in his pockets

and said angrily, “I will go away.”
“I will take the child home with me,” said the
other man standing with him—a man whom all
the children were afraid of and kept out of his way,
for he was very cross and rough and never spoke
a friendly word. “I will soon teach her how to use
the hoe and work in the fields.”
“She is still young,” said the uncle.
“All the easier to teach,” replied the cross man,
and he went on his way.
To this man Rose-Resli was to go early the
next morning. The child herself had no idea of
what the men had decided. Even now she was
wandering cheerfully through the meadows far
beyond the town, on her way to the mill. Here
there was a garden full of marvelous roses, and
the miller’s wife had promised Resli a large bunch
of them.
Soon after, the child was seen with her roses
in her hand going back happily by the same road
in the golden evening light. She had not gone far
when a young man with quick footsteps came up
behind her. He was holding his straw hat in his
312
hand and let the fresh, cooling air blow over his
head.
“You have some beautiful roses,” he exclaimed
when he had caught up with Resli. “Will you give
me one to put in my hat?”
Resli nodded in assent and took one out.
“That is kind of you. You have given me the most
beautiful one of all,” said the stranger as he placed
the rose with satisfaction in his hat. “How far are
you going?”
“I am going home to Wildbach,” was the reply.
“Then we are going the same way,” said the
traveler and walked along with Resli.
“If you are from Wildbach, you must know the
people there well and can tell me something. Does
the good woman Steinmann live there still, and is
she well?”
“I don’t know her,” replied Resli. “Nobody there
has that name.”
“Oh! Oh!” groaned the stranger deeply and was
silent. Resli looked at him in wonder. From time
to time he wiped away a tear and no longer looked
happy as before.
After they had walked along together for some
313
The Rose Child
time in silence, the stranger began again. “Do you

know the way to the peasant woman that lives at
the crossway?”
Resli nodded. “I go there every day.”
“Then tell me who lives in the old, tumble-down
house there at the left on the road where the
crooked willow tree stands.”
“The Sorrow-mother lives there. I know her
well.”
“What kind of name is that? Hasn’t she any
other name?”
“I don’t know any other.”
“Is she called so because she has had a great
deal of sorrow? Do you know?”
“Yes, she has sorrow because she doesn’t know
whether Joseph is living in misery or not.”
“Oh! Oh!” exclaimed the stranger again and
suddenly strode away so that he left Resli quite a
distance behind, but he turned back again, took
the child by the hand, and said very kindly, “Come,
let us walk along together and talk a little more.
Tell me, is the Sorrow-mother angry with Joseph?”
“Oh, no! Every night she prays for him, or else
she could not go to sleep. I help her, too.”
314
“Is that so? What do you pray for him?”

“I pray, ‘Dear Lord, do help Joseph!’ ”
“Perhaps the dear Lord has heard you now and
has helped him.”
“Do you believe it?” asked Resli, looking with
greatest interest at the stranger, whose face suddenly
lighted up with joy.
Now they came to the crooked willow tree a few
steps from the little old house.
“Well, goodbye,” said Resli as she held out
her hand to the stranger. “I am going to see the
Sorrow-mother.”
“I will go with you,” he said quickly, but before
they opened the door, it was burst open from the
inside and out rushed the Sorrow-mother, who
embraced the stranger and exclaimed again and
again, “Oh, Joseph! Joseph! Is it really you?”
She wept aloud for joy, and Joseph wept with
her. Now, when Resli realized that the stranger was
Joseph, she did not know how to contain herself
for joy. She hugged the weeping mother and cried,
“The dear Lord has helped him. The dear Lord has
helped him!”
Then all three went into the little house, and
315
The Rose Child
the Sorrow-mother looked her son over from

head to foot, and her heart overflowed with
thankfulness and joy, for he did not look like one
who had been sunk into the depths of despair and
poverty as she had often imagined him to be. She
could not look at him enough; he looked so good
and kind.
“Come, Mother,” said the young man with a
happy face. “Now let us sit down together and have
something to eat and be merry. Can the child bring
us something?”
“Oh, yes. She has done that already,” affirmed
the mother. “How much good she has brought me
before and now has brought even my son! Where
did you find him, Resli?”
“I will tell you all about that, Mother, but let the
child go and get some sausages, a bottle of grape
juice, and a big loaf of bread,” requested Joseph,
laying a large piece of money on the table.
“A whole loaf?” asked Resli with the greatest
astonishment, for she could hardly believe that the
Sorrow-mother was to have a whole loaf of bread
all at once, but she flew away in such delight over it
that she was back again soon.
316
Then all three sat down at the little table and

had a feast such as was never seen in the room
before.
“Now,” said Joseph when he had been quite
refreshed after his long journey, “I will tell you,
Mother, how things have gone with me. You know
I ran away. I went over to England, and there I
stayed because I had no money to go farther. I
had hard times there. I really believe your prayers
saved me, Mother, for every time when things were
at their worst and I was tempted to do wrong, I
suddenly heard you as you used to pray in your
room beside me. Then I saw you before me and
couldn’t do anything wrong.
“I had to work in the machine shops, and
little by little, I improved. I learned to be a skilled
mechanic and now shall always have good work.
“Now, Mother, you shall have something else.
No one shall dare call you Sorrow-mother again.
See, Mother, I have brought you my savings. Now
tell me how things have gone for you.”
Joseph laid his hard-earned dollars before his
mother on the table, and the joy in his heart shone
out of his eyes.
317
The Rose Child
“I don’t know how to thank the dear Lord,” said

the mother. “It is almost too much!” The good
mother had to fold her hands and give praise and
thanks again and again, but her son said, “Tell me
how it has been with you, Mother.”
“There is not much to tell, Joseph,” she said.
“I have had hard times and much trouble, but
the dear Lord has always helped me through. In
these last years, I have been so very poor and lost
my strength; I thought I should not live through
another winter.
“Then like an angel from heaven came the child
Rose-Resli, and she gave me back my strength.
The whole winter through and until now, she has
supported me, and I know she has often brought
me her bread and gone hungry herself. Now I have
only one cause for complaint, Joseph. Resli lives
with her uncle, and tomorrow he loses his house.
The child has to go with strangers.”
“What? The child who has taken care of you,
Mother?” interrupted Joseph. “We have enough for
the child. We shall take her. I will go see the uncle.
Rose-Resli shall not leave us again!”
He shot out of the door and hurried away.
318
The uncle was glad, for secretly he was fond of

Resli. He said, “Take the child right away.”
Joseph did.
Joseph found work in the town as a skilled and
expert mechanic.
Every morning when he went to work, Resli
placed a rose in his hat. This pleased Joseph very
much.
As soon as the story became known, how Resli
had supported the Sorrow-mother for a whole year
long, everybody loved her even more than before,
and wherever she went, she received roses from the
gardens.
So the three happy people lived together in the
smallest house in the town, and Rose-Resli will be
her name all her life long.
THE END
319
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Native Americans: How They Lived. . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

A Native American Village

When Christopher Columbus sailed west from

There were many tribes of Native Americans in

called a wigwam. The wigwam was made of young

one village to another. They did not have horses;

Native American Men

Everyone in an Eastern Woodland Native

The men hunted and fished. This was not for

Of course, the men made their own bows and

Some Animals Native

When only Native Americans lived in the

Strings of wampum were almost as long as

the part of the agreement wanted as it was pictured

Native American Women

The Eastern Woodland Native American

gardens. Corn, beans, and squash were the main

Children helped to scare away the crows and

right powdered rock, sand, and shell so that it

were used to prop up a pot so that it wouldn’t tip.

Ways Native Americans Cooked

All the clothes of Eastern Woodland Native

deer tail was left on the skin for decoration. Each

Dyes were made to color clothes. Native

or fade. Sometimes, certain tribes used the juice of

from the toe up the instep and held in gathers over

moccasins to be beautiful. Many thought that the

Porcupine quills were dyed many colors—red,

put holes in the skin with an awl and then would

How Native American Children

Eastern Woodland Native American children

things. Bad acts gained him nothing, for nothing

Boys and girls had to learn how to live. A

tasks. A pleased mother might say, “May the Great

A boy had to learn to find the best wood to

make little speeches. They went with their parents

signs, such as a broken twig or pressed moss, that

child had to learn how to walk without making a

The Work of Everyone

Native Americans had never heard of matches,

When the European settlers first came to this

Maple Sugaring Time

We get sugar from sugar cane or beets. Native

the maples grew. Sometimes this was close to

the tribe had a good crop of sap. Once the buds

Eastern Woodland Native Americans believed

Many Eastern Woodland Native Americans

Masked Spirits who lived in the woods. The

Songs and Dances

Many Native Americans in Pennsylvania made

had beautiful tunes. Dancing songs were “catching”

Why They Painted Their Faces

The Eastern Woodland Native American

eyes down the cheeks; this meant that the Thunder

Gifts of Native Americans

The king of England thought that the land he

never seen. William Penn told Native Americans

How Ways of Living Changed