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B y Betty Brueehert
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“No, it’s better than ice cream, but don’t ask me what it is until after we eat.” Never was a meal prepared and dispatched more speedily; then Moth er, no longer able to resist the plead ing of four eager brown eyes, an nounced: “Well, my darlings, this is it: You’re going to Grandmother’s for your vacation!” Lollie jumped up to throw her arms around her moth er’s neck, and Kippy promptly turned over his glass of milk. When the ex citement died down a bit, Mother held up two' yellow bits of cardboard: “ These are the bus tickets Grand mother sent, You will leave on Mon day morning when I go to work. This way you won’t miss Sunday school, and you will be back next Saturday.” So it was that for the first time in their lives Lollie and Kippy were per mitted to take the fifty-mile journey all by themselves, and boarding that bus was the thrill of their lives. They hated to leave Mother but they prom ised with tears to be “very good chil dren, and not to make any extra work.” Grandmother: (and Grandfather, too, of course) lived on a farm, that loveliest of all places on earth for boys and girls. Kippy and Lollie loved every part of it: the well, where you had to pump the water, instead of getting it out of faucets; the soft- glowing lamps you didn’t turn on at a switch—but more than anything else, the wonderful animals: the dog, and the cat, and the calves, and the horses, and even the chickens, ducks and geese. They had no conception of the hard labor this lgck of mod em conveniences on this old-fashioned farm caused their aging grandparents. Lollie was fascinated by the stove which didn’t burn gas, but wood and coal, and “ stacks and stacks” of corn cobs, the “ left-overs” (Kippy called them) from the yellow corn the chickens, pigs and cattle ate. Of course, the coal had to be carried in; the wood chopped; and the corn cobs picked up in the barnyard. But these chores were different from run ning to the store, setting the table, and tidying up their rooms and pick
ing up their toys, so they were fun t for a few days, that is. However, about Friday, when Grandmother called out to the children who were chasing the old gander with a stick: ‘ Lollie and Kippy, will you get me a basket of cobs?” their response was very unenthusiastic. Silently they came into the kitchen and picked up the bushel basket. It looked so large and deep and it took so long to fill it, for the corncobs were scat tered everywhere! I m tired,” said Kippy, languidly ■ reaching for one lone cob. £ “ So am I, Kip,” said Lollie, not remembering how fast they had ran after the gander. “I want to go home and see Mamma.” She sat down on the grass. “We don’t have to work so hard at home,” said Kip, forgetting how he complained about running errands, for Mother. •«.“ Grandmother bums so many -cobs!” moaned Lollie, and Kippy ac tually kicked the basket, saying, “ I don’t want to fill that whole basket!” Suddenly his eyes brightened. “ I’ve got an. idea!” he said, and when he confided it to his sister, she at first said, “What will Grandmother think?” and then, “We leave tomor row:^: she won’t know,” and together they ran off to the bam. Giggling nervously, they slipped into the hay mow and there stuffed the basket two- thirds-full with hay. Then, gathering up enough cobs to fill it, they car ried it into the kitchen, and hastily deposited it beside the great black range. Grandmother called up from the cellar, “My, that was quick, children! Your mother will be so happy to hear what good little helpers you are!” Hastening back to their play, Lol lie and Kippy couldn’t look at each other. Somehow all the light was gone out of the day. What would Mother think? And deep down inside they were wondering, “What will Jesus think?” for they were Chris- *Mrs. Brueehert has written a series of stories about these real-life chil dren, a number of them for K.B.
olden-haired, nine-year-old Lollie ¿and plump, seven-year-old Kippy -sat on the steps of their neat home ;which they had named “'The Cracker- box” , because :‘*of course it was so small. They were waiting for their mother to come home from the office where she worked every day except Saturday and Sunday. Usually they played in the neighborhood with the other children until she arrived, but tonight they were bored with their games. After all, they had a whole week in which to play, for next week was their Spring vacation from school. “ Kip,” afsked Lollie, plaintively, “ Don’t you just wish something in teresting would happen?” “Yeah,” answered Kippy (of course, h is ' real name was Philip and his sister’s Lottie Lee, but whoever re membered that?), “But nothing ever does.” Lollie looked very serious for her, for most of the time she was a laugh ing little girl. She murmured half to herself, “ I wonder if it would be wrong to pray that we might do something that was real fun on our vacation?” But Kippy wasn’t listen ing. He just sat, chin in hands, his eyes troubled, his lower lip protrud ing. Just then a dear, familiar figure appeared down the street and the children jumped to their feet and ran to meet their mother, nearly hugging the breath out of her, but not notic ing a particularly happy; secret smile in her brown eyes. “ Mother, I’m starved!” Kippy wailed, as usual. “We’ll hurry,” said Mother, donning her apron, “ Lollie, you make the salad, and you, Kippy, set the table, while I fix the ham burgers, and we’ll be ready in a jiffy . . . and then . . . ” and Mother spoke slowly for emphasis— “then . . . I have a surprise!” “ Oh, goody!” the children shouted, and Kippy asked, “ Is it ice cream?” 26
THE KING'S BUSINESS
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