junior KING’S BUSINESS feature The Tale That GREW and GREW and GREW
by Betty Bruechert
D e b b y r u s h e d i n t o t h e h o u s e , threw her sweater on a chair, and exclaimed, “Guess what we are going to have in school tomorrow?” “I can’t imagine,” answered her mother. She was pleased at this enthusiasm on her daughter’s part. She had been concerned that Debbie was not too happy with the new school since they had moved to this midwestern city from a small California town. Debbie was shy and it was not easy for her to make new friends. Between gulps of soup and sandwiches, Debbie told her mother, “It’s SHOW and TELL day for our class. You bring anything you want from your house and tell all about it to the class. It’s the third grade’s turn to morrow. Mother, what shall I take?” “You don’t need to decide until tonight, dear. You finish your lunch. If you like, I’ll look around the house and make some suggestions when you get home.” “Oh, Mother, would you? Some of the little kids brought their pets yesterdayfplf hamsters, turtles, and even a little dog. But I want something different. And I want to think up something interesting to say about it.” “I’m sure you will, Debbie. Run along so you won’t be late.” By the time Debbie returned home, Mrs. Graham had decided that one of the exotic cactus plants she had car ried so painstakingly across the continent would be just the thing. But Debbie did not agree. “Oh, no, Mother! Some of the kids brought house plants. I want something different!” she wailed. She walked through the rooms, her bright brown eyes scrutinizing every object. At last she saw what she wanted. “Mother! Mother! may I take the wind chimes? I’ll be careful with them.” “I suppose so, dear, but they are very fragile. They certainly would be different. You can tell them how the Orientals have legends about them. I’ll go up to the attic and get the box they came in. Then you can pack them carefully. I am afraid I couldn’t buy them here and I don’t want them broken, Debbie.” “Oh, I’ll be very careful, Mother! Thank you!” As Debbie wrapped each little piece of glass in tissue paper, she thought of the things she would say to the class. Like many quiet children, she possessed a vivid imagination. Her mind was so filled with the wind chimes project that although she was a Christian girl, who claimed to love the Lord Jesus supremely, she skipped her prayers that night, and soon was fast asleep. When the third-grade pupils arrived with their pack ages from home, Mrs. Warren, their teacher, decided to have the display the very first thing. She knew from experience that the children would not be able to put their minds to their lessons until the fun was over. On
a table at the front of the classroom the articles were placed, and as each child’s name was called, he or she came forward, and described the item to the class. Deb bie had gently removed the wind chimes and had them ready to hold in her hand while she talked. Although she was backward about talking to people in person, she had no difficulty in speaking to a group, and was all ready with her speech. At last Mrs. Warren called Debbie’s name. As she came forward, her teacher put her arm about the little girl, and said: “Now, children, you know that Debbie is new here and I want all of you to make her feel welcome. She has come all the way from California and she has a rather unusual kind of musical instrument to show you. Tell us, Debbie, where you got it, what it is for, and how it is played.” Debbie took a deep breath and began: “I will move these chimes a little so you can see how the wind makes music through them.” The children leaned forward as Debbie waved the bits of metal, glass and paper back and forth. “You notice all the pretty colors. Each has a different shape and they all tell a story.” She glanced at Mrs. Warren. “I know I won’t have time to tell the legends.” “That’s right, Debbie,” replied Mrs. Warren, “We must get to our lessons. But that is interesting and the sound is soft and beautiful, like the wind in the trees. Just tell us one more thing: where did you get the wind chimes?” For a moment Debbie hesitated, and color came into her cheeks. “In Japan, when we lived there,” she said, and sat down. There was a murmur of admiration and astonishment from her classmates. Mrs. Warren too was taken by surprise. “I did not know you had lived in Japan, Debbie. How interesting! I suppose your father was with the occupa tion forces during the war . . . Now we must get back to work. Put away your things and be sure to take them back home tonight.” At recess, the children crowded around Debbie and asked her questions about living in Japan. She had read a book about Japan during summer vacation and it was not hard for her to make up some answers. Her cheeks got redder and redder, and although she laughed with her classmates, she felt very sick inside. Debbie walked home slowly and entered the house quietly. Her mother called out, “Is that you, Debbie? How did the SHOW and TELL go?” Debbie set down the box of wind chimes on the table without a word. Her mother came into the kitchen and noticed her flushed face. “Is something the matter, dear? Did the chimes get broken?” “No, they are all right,” said Debbie dully. Her mother felt her little daughter’s forehead. “Are you sure you
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