During this time of drought, there was not a great variety of food served at the Hillman’s table. Oatmeal usually was set on for breakfast. That, Daddy could not do without, he thought. “Really sticks to yer ribs,” he’d always say. But even this failed a few times, and whole wheat from the barn was soaked and cooked for a long time. Mary Jane loved the nutty flavor. One had to chew and chew and chew. The children had mostly all grown tired of the oatmeal, but it was as regular at their table as Bible reading. Foolish children! They were getting food for their souls and good enough food for their bodies. But then, “unthankfulness” is one of God’s great complaints against mankind.
There was plenty of milk, eggs, and butter. But in those hard days, when there were no dainties, little fruit, and when the precious garden and orchard became plagued with grasshoppers, it was easy to begin complaining.
One night when everything seemed most discouraging, Mamma suggested, “How about chickens, Ned? You can hardly get anything for the grain you have; why not save it and I’ll do like Mrs. Mercer and the Corders. Those women each raise around five thousand chickens a year themselves. I could somehow manage with the children’s help.”
Daddy’s posture bespoke dejection. Head in hands, he sighed, “Chickens! Cain’t stand workin’ with them hysterical things! The four-legged critters are more my line. Chickens! They always seem so stupid! Course there’s not much room for brains in them excitable little heads! Naw, Mom. You keep the house and children clean. Those women can’t keep house proper and do all that. The Lord will provide. Oh, mebbe a few chickens more. We’ll see, come the season fer ‘em.”
And with that they prepared to retire. It was then that the telephone rang a loud, clear long and short. The whole family heard. It was an event that late at night and heads appeared from five bedrooms upstairs.
“Who is it? Did someone die? Is someone’s house on fire?”
At last the receiver clicked and Daddy announced, “Company’s comin’ tomorrow! Brother John Wolson’s in town at Franks and he’s comin’ out on the train tomorrow morning. We could stand some encouragin’. Now pop into bed all of you, and let’s get some sleep!”
Good! Something to look forward to. Everyone went to sleep with a lighter heart – some lighter than others. Mary Jane loved a change, but she knew there would be preaching and much talk over the Word.
“If only, oh, if only –!” She fell asleep, and dreamed she heard the dear Scotch brother throw his head back in his characteristic manner and pour out a song of praise as he did in slightly flat notes.
Mary Jane and Ellen awoke in the morning to the sound of voices downstairs – one strange, yet not strange.
“Mary Jane!” Ellen ejaculated. “Get up! It’s Brother Wolson!”
“Why – did we sleep? – no, it’s early.”
Daddy had said “tomorrow,” but he had not told them that he was to meet the five a.m. train. Their guest had arrived before breakfast. How exciting! Hands and feet flew and they hurried down to be greeted by the kindly gentleman with the so charming Scotch brogue. He always wore a dazzling white starched shirt with removable collar and a very black suit. The collar was removed whenever possible.
“Something about him is so warm, and yet he looks like J. N. D. a little,” Ellen remarked on the way to milk the cows.
“What makes you think J. N. D. wasn’t warm? I’ve heard that he was. Even carried crying babies around for tired mommies,” answered the well-read Jennie.
“Honest? Well, I’m glad to hear that. His picture looks – well anyway, Mr. Wolson had eight babies of his own to carry. I wonder why Mrs. – didn’t come,” Ellen responded.
“Oh, Ellen, don’t you remember? She said it was the –,” began Mary Jane.
“Hush, Mary Jane!” interrupted Jennie. “Can’t you forget that?”
“Well, it’s not the ‘jumping off place’ here!” sighed the little girl, hardly knowing herself why she defended their drought-stricken home.
“Oh, come now! She wasn’t used to the facilities, and the coyotes howled that night, and Edgar got sick. Try to understand people,” Jennie defended.
Chores finished presently, they sat down to their breakfast. Mamma remembered that her guest liked his oatmeal thinner and had accommodated. Poor Ellen, slightly greenish in color, was looking at hers, thinking thoughts that ought not to be thought. But after thanks had been given, the visitor rolled up his sleeves and fell to. Robbie’s and Mary Jane’s mouths fell open in wonder; and forgetting all their manners, they stared. Never had they seen oatmeal eaten with such gusto and a spoon fly so fast to and from the bowl. Suddenly the spoon paused in flight and with “Yes, laddie?” he addressed Robbie with a question and twinkle in his eyes.
Robbie flushed in embarrassment and blurted out, “You sure must like oatmeal!”
“Well, Robbie, me lad, have you never read in the dictionary the definition for ‘oats’?”
Addressing his host he announced, “Oats is a grain which in England is fed to horses and in Scotland is fed to men. And where do you find better horses or men?”
Daddy threw back his head and laughed, but the visiting Scotsman again fell to his oatmeal as if it were the most serious business on earth.
Daddy winked at Jennie and offered, “Three guesses where that dictionary was printed.” “I only need one guess, Daddy – England! and it must have been Samuel Johnson’s dictionary.”
Only some point of scripture could divert the dear man; and then he was ready to talk, as he had eaten, with vigor, earnestness, and enthusiasm. After a lengthy reading they sang a hymn. The Scotch came out so strongly, that none of the children dared peep from behind their books. One most indiscreet explosion was heard from a corner of the room. But as a few pieces of silver crashed to the floor about then, and two children dived to pick them up, the embarrassed parents could not tell the source or sources.
The brother had come with some sacrifice to himself, being a laboring man, and times were hard. He placed a fatherly hand on Daddy’s shoulder and, talking at top speed related far harder circumstances from his past history bringing up eight children in the city. Always he magnified the Lord and told how the Lord had carried them through. He ended with the scripture, “Cast not away therefore your confidence which hath great recompense of reward.”
Later in the day Jennie was on her way upstairs when she heard uncontrolled tittering coming from Lori’s room. She slipped to the door and heard Lori, who was a great mimic, do a skit on the Scotch visitor. Ellen and Mary Jane were rolling with laughter and tears.
Bursting into the room, Jennie flashed out, “Irreverent. rowdy rascals! Shame on you!”
Sudden silence. It was true. Then Jennie softened a bit.
“I know he sounds strange and comical to us but how good of him to come and encourage us!”
“Oh, I really like him loads!” Mary Jane responded warmly. “I just wish –,” and she stopped. (She wanted to say, “I wish I could sing to the Lord with such joy;” but instead she finished with, “I wish he could stay longer!”
“But that thin, gray oatmeal!” groaned Ellen. “Oh, if only, if only we could have some crunchy cornflakes for breakfast, just once!”
It was as if the Lord heard her cry of anguish. Only the next week, Ellen was walking from school to the post office; there shining in incredible glory in the high noon sun was a fifty cent piece. That night Ellen carried a large brown bag full of corn flake boxes and placed it on the kitchen table.
“Please, Mamma! I found the money and bought them myself. Please, no oatmeal for us while this lasts?”
“Well – but I’ll have to cook some for your father! Honey, couldn’t you have used the money more wisely?”
“Not as far as I’m concerned,” sighed Ellen. “I couldn’t even eat my oatmeal this morning.”
Daddy took it well. He had a good chuckle or two but lectured, “That corn flake stuff is mostly corn husks. Not much food value in corn. Now, Jennie! I know there’s some; but it ain’t as complete fer food as, say, yer wheat or oats. Then to top it all off, they charge three prices fer all that air. But I reckon it won’t hurt now and then.”
However, Daddy and Robbie ate oatmeal.
From then on, dear Daddy brought home an occasional box of Grape Nuts, which Ellen found as good as corn flakes.
The corn flakes lasted several days. Near the end of this time, Ellen was struggling in vain to open a jar of pickles. Robbie walked up, calmly took the jar and twisted it open with ease.
“That’s what oats does,” he quipped and dodged a pot holder as he ran out the door.