Lambs and Lamb's Quarters

Because children everywhere love stories, especially those of real people and real events from times and places other than their own little circle of knowledge, the author purposed to put together such a story from memories of an era now gone. She must beg some allowance for faults in memory and a little license to transpose and arrange events to fit within the framework of one little book. The names are fictitious but the people and their adventures are very real.

It is the author’s sincere desire that Mary Jane’s story might not only entertain the dear children of this generation, but that it might also be of aid and comfort to them in coming to grips with the ageless problem and struggles of childhood and youth. The counseling that Mary Jane received which was so firmly founded on the precious Word of God aught certainly to be of value to any generation of children.

M. L. Wilhelm

April, 1976

Hilltop Encounter: Chapter 1

A cloud of dust arises near the end of a country lane in the gently swelling hill country of the great American plateau. The ever–present breezes lightly lift the veil, and we see two groups of children departing in opposite directions as the stubby country school bus continues toward the main highway.

A little boy streaks homeward to the east, amid shouts of “Yippee! It’s Friday!” A procession of children file westward toward a large gray and white house, partly hidden from view by a knoll. They belong to a family of seven; an elder sister, quite grown up, is away in the city. The youngest, Mary Jane, skips ahead, carefree and glad to be alive – especially on Friday. Not that she disliked school; on the contrary, but Friday did have its charm. Ellen followed more sedately, still trying to keep up. Primness was a kind of “built-in” feature with her. Jennie and Lori ambled leisurely, engaged in some high school gossip, while Clara strode apart, busy with her own thoughts until she decided to throw a rock at a crow cawing at them from a fence post. The rock landed where the crow had lately sat. It seems Clara should have been a boy. The only boy in the group, Robbie, next in age to Mary Jane, lagged behind, being of a slow deliberate nature. Most of the children carried books and all of them the inevitable lunch pail – a shiny round bucket that had once been a tin of lard or amber honey.

The grass was brownish and short, sprinkled with prickly cactus of several varieties, and accented here and there with a dash of fiery Indian paint brush or purple and white thistles. These and more flanked the beaten pathway to the house. All of them humble plants, but to the appreciative soul, they were lovely. The prairie might seem to many a wasteland, lonely and devoid of charm. However to those who loved deep blue skies and were more intimately related to the land, here was life in abundance and beauty to stir the soul. Lonely to be sure. One must be at peace with God and man to be truly content in such a place. One must be able to thrill at things such as the wide silver moon rising over the quiet, swelling knolls while the coyotes howl and yap a welcome; or the soft, gentle call of the morning dove to any who will commune with her; or the folksy trill of the red-winged blackbird – but the list grows too long.

We cannot, however, let the virtues of the land blind our eyes to its faults. There were many winds, frequent winds, hail and floods, and drought at times. In the winter treacherous blizzards howled with merciless fury across these open sweeps. Unfriendly features to be sure and calling for profound respect, else one might cruelly suffer the consequences. This was not a weakling’s land. It was hard to wrest a livelihood for nine and more souls from it. Work hard work – long, weary hours of it, and hope were necessary to exist. “Hope springs eternal in the human breast,” we are told. Each new springtime it “sprang”, else crops would not have been planted and life would not have gone on against such odds. Much more likely to buy the family groceries were the fat livestock which thrived on the short, nutritious grasses. The big problem was how to keep them alive and fed when the cold winds howled and snow drifted.

Nearing the big house, the children could hear the windmill’s noisy clatter as it pumped a crystal stream of water into a barrel almost overflowing. The barn and granaries and chicken houses stood some sixty yards away; Red Plymouth Rock chickens clucked about unhindered. Then there was another windmill and a pond; the garden area and orchard were located in a southwesterly direction. The absence of trees around the house was regrettable. Viewed from the front, it stood out like a monster with a huge mouth (the porch), and two eyes (the upper windows) often glittering brilliantly in the setting sun.

Mary Jane was the first to reach the back porch and receive a wet greeting from the dogs, “Spike” and “Bruno.” The little lunch pail clattered onto the battered kitchen table. The child looked about anxiously for Mamma. How they all loved her! Down in Mary Jane’s heart was a fear that someday she might die; and more than once she had tip-toed to peep as Mamma rested in her room, “just to be sure” that she was breathing. Mrs. Hillman was not frail, but she did have trouble breathing in hay fever season and had had some asthma. She was plumpish and often rosy-cheeked, and her patience and sweetness at all times made it harder to see her suffering.

Today, following the answer to her anxious call, Mary Jane found her folding the wash on the bed in her room. Exchanging hugs she ran up to change her clothes, boyishly taking two steps at a time.

Into the sun-bathed and not-too-tidy bedroom that she shared with Ellen, Mary Jane burst and ripped into her old things. Some little barbs of conscience began to intrude about the untidy room. Ellen and Mamma hated messiness, but Mary Jane was often too busy, hungry or rushed to care. It was always, “Later she would do better.”

Mamma and Daddy were happy Christians. Everyone, but everyone, around knew that the Hillmans were “religious.” There were Bible readings in the home, of course; in addition, Mamma exchanged weekly visits with her neighbor across the lane (whose children we have lately glimpsed). Mrs. French had been brightly converted to God, and the two ladies read many good books aloud, joying greatly in God. There was no mistaking the sheer joy and peace that radiated from their faces as they enjoyed these good things. It was their “meat and drink.” Down in her heart of hearts Mary Jane knew that she had no part in their joy. More and more her fear was growing they were in the warmth of God’s love and she was somehow apart.

But today she let these thoughts slip only briefly through her mind, tossing her head a little irritably. After all, there was lots to be happy about. How cool and “released” she felt in her old clothes and comfy play shoes! She wriggled her toes and wished she could go barefoot, but that was unthinkable when bringing home the cows from the cactus-sprinkled pasture. By now Ellen had arrived in the room, and Mary Jane thought best to hurry downstairs calling behind her: “Just don’t take forever to change your clothes. We have the cows to get, you know!”

“Poor Ellen!” Mary Jane thought. “I really ought to try harder to be neat. I hope she won’t be mad at me too long!”

The plump loaves of “light bread” were cooling on the board in the kitchen. “Now let’s see – slice of bread, butter, raisins – sprinkle sugar on top – Umm, Good! Oh, yes! and run down cellar for that biggest, fattest pickle in the crock.”

Just as Mary Jane was finishing her snack, Ellen appeared. She was neat in her dark blue and white print “apron,” as their plain little button-down-the back dress was called. The children were allowed one a week, except for emergencies; for the wash was done on the scrub board and for nine or more people! Add carrying the water for it, heating it on the coal stove, besides boiling the white things, and you have reason enough to adopt rationing. Ellen was smiling; not a word was mentioned about their room. In a loving burst of remorse, Mary Jane thrust the pickle towards her with, “Have my pickle. I’ve got enough here.”

“Bet you licked it already,” grinned Ellen. “I’ll get my own. Wait up for me!”

It was only 4:45 and the sun was still high. The girls were in no hurry and giggled and talked as they walked, stopping for a cold drink from the running stream at the pond windmill. The only annoyance was the drooling dogs who pleaded with their eyes for some of Mary Jane’s food.

“Oh, all right!” she said at last. “Just one bite each!” The harassment would continue as long as there was food, she knew. Mary Jane was not above “dirty tricks.” Next time around, she slipped them a pinch of pickle – hating to spare it. But that sent them off ahead to search for rabbit scents.

“Well, here we are on observation hill. I can’t see those old cows, can you?” Ellen asked.

“Why, it looks like just a few way down there towards the highway! Shucks! I’ll bet old Nancy led her gang away someplace else again today.” Then a pause. “Tell you what, Ellen, I’ll go find the others and you can get those!” Mary Jane felt like an adventure.

“Are you sure it’s okay? I’m older – maybe I should – but if you’re sure it’s all right –.”

“Good-by!” shouted Mary Jane, and started trotting off in her chosen direction, secretly pleased to be able to arrange her trip via the hill Daddy thought might be an old Indian burying place. “If I really look hard, I might find another Indian arrowhead like I gave to those people from the city who were here last summer. Or maybe – Oh, I hope I’ll find a smoky topaz! What a lovely piece of petrified wood! Ouch! those old cactus! Let’s see, shall I pretend that I’m a little Indian girl today? Wouldn’t it be neat if there was some big underground cave here and I’d just stumble onto a little opening, and there would be treasure in it like in Tom Sawyer. Then we’d be rich and wouldn’t have to wear aprons and black bloomers to school. All the kids at school – boy! would they be jealous –!” And so Mary Jane’s imagination soared and unprofitably, to be sure, entertained her as she covered the two or so miles ahead.

The cows, it seemed, had chosen the very farthest corner of the pasture – awesomely near the mysterious “Big Hills” with their chokecherry canyons and ( as supposed) dens of coyotes and seldom-visited heights. Daddy had made them “out of bounds,” because of rattlesnake-infested “prairie dog towns” on their lower slopes. Only on rare supervised chokecherry picking trips did the older girls get to go there. All this smacked of real adventure, coupled with the fact that in plain view of this area was an old house where once a ranchman had murdered his wife. The children pictured it as haunted, with blood-spattered walls, of course.

“There’s those dumb cows! Here, Spike! Here, Bruno!” she called to the dogs who had come with her. They came but stopped only briefly, panting and excited. The spirit of a rabbit hunt, not a cow hunt, was strong upon them. The children had never been firm enough to keep them in training. They knew what “Sic ‘em” meant, but chose not to listen.

So Mary Jane began the “nightmarish” task of rounding up the saucy cows. Never imagine for a moment that cows are stupid. They were very much aware of how effective one little girl, whose dogs had deserted her, could be if they chose to be contrary.

And they chose to be contrary, typically taking a few steps in the right direction after a stone had bounced off the rear – then they would snort, toss their heads disdainfully and return to munching grass. Suddenly, in the midst of her exasperation, a sound reached her ears – a dear little cry, unmistakably a “Baa-a” from a newborn calf!

Ordinarily Mary Jane would have run joyfully to find the baby where the mother had hidden to give birth to it; but today her mouth went dry and her heart pounded. How could she ever, ever get home before dark with a mother cow and baby and those other awful ornery critters out there?! She knew about coyotes, how they come out at dusk, hungry. She also knew how Mr. and Mrs. Coyote (who pair “till death doth part”) work. Mr. Coyote harasses the mother cow who charges him in anger, while Mrs. Coyote runs in to grab the new calf. Daddy had taught her these things. Having now received a desperate spurt of energy in her fear, Mary Jane worked in a frenzy. The cows were pelted, shouted at and walloped until at last they were chased to the top of the first hill. The dogs finally returned, and Mary Jane was able to keep the calf wobbling along at a slow pace beside his worried, loving mother.

“If I could just make them run a bit! It’s really beginning to get pretty dark with the sun down!”

Gathering her strength into one magnificent, ferocious whoop, she shattered the stillness of that remote wilderness. The cows kicked up their heels and ran, holding their tails high! But behind her, a strange, blood-curdling, wild cry, somehow similar to her own, arrested Mary Jane as if she had been shot. For one brief second she looked for a human figure, as she almost thought someone was mocking her yell. But how large and wild a beast stood looking at her! Coyotes were supposed to be afraid of human beings, Daddy had said, but this creature, looking like a big police dog, began to advance fearlessly.

Helter-skelter she dashed after the cows! Even the baby calf ran.

Then a Bible verse she well knew flashed through her mind as she ran. “Call upon Me in the day of trouble” (Psa. 50:15). And call Mary Jane did with all her heart.

A glance behind showed the beast to be pausing and looking off ahead. Ah! Could it be? Yes, unmistakably! There were the headlights and the sound of the hired man’s old Chevie! Daddy was coming! By now the coyote was living up to his coward’s reputation.

“Daddy!” she panted. “A coyote!”

“I see him, Pet. Quick! Hop in! Floor-board this thing, Cliff. Maybe we can warm his hide!”

And warm it Daddy did with his .22. But Chevies can’t jump fences and rifles don’t have a very long range; so “whatever-his-name” got away with a warmed coat only. Daddy was an inveterate old hunter and his eyes were still glittering, nostrils white and distended. Mary Jane thought maybe he looked like Daniel Boone.

“Nobody around here can shoot like my Daddy!” It was true that in the old days he used to win all the turkeys at the “turkey shoots.” That was before he became a Christian. Mary Jane sighed and snuggled against him.

“Daddy, I prayed – and you came just in time!”

“Yes, Pet.” he answered. “Did you know that God even says ‘Before they call I will answer’? We get that in Isaiah 65:24.”

“Really, Daddy? Well, I guess He had to get you started out here all right, so’s you could rescue me at the right time.”

“I’ll tell you something else too – something that happened to me as a young man. The scripture speaks of the angels as being ‘ministering spirits sent forth to minister unto them that shall be heirs of salvation.’ Now, I think that an incident in my own life before I was saved proves this. It was this a-way.

“I’d been sent by Nash (that was when I worked on the Bar X Ranch in New Mexico) to check some water gaps on the other side of the range. They was sure enough washed out, and by the time I got done, night time was fallin’. And what a night! Cliff, you never seen such darkness! Why a man couldn’t see his hand afore his face. I had a good horse – a course – and we was goin’ along real slow. I knew to let her have the reins as she’d know better’n me in the dark like that. Well, the thing that was worryin’ me was a great gulch or deep canyon we had to cross between there and camp. There was only about two trails across that was safe. Along about then, Buttercup she stops. I nudges her just a mite, but she wouldn’t budge. I climbs down and slowly crawls up ahead. Yep! Sure enough!

“My hand comes to empty space! I was just a-settin’ there, debatin’ what to do next, when the whole sky lights up brighter’n than daylight! Mindja, I didn’t hear no thunder ner lightnin’.” To this day I – nor no one else thereabouts – can figure out any natural source for that light! We seen the trail all right (we was nearly on it), and got down across that place and back to camp. Beats anything I ever seen before or since! The only way I can explain it is by that there verse! So you see, Pet, the Lord takes care of us even before we’re His sometimes. I reckon I’d a been killed if we’d atried getting home that night!”

Down in her heart of hearts, Mary Jane thought: “Does Daddy really know I’m not saved? I don’t want him to think – I don’t – Oh, I don’t know. I wish I could be like the others!” Poor little Mary Jane! The security of the precious Savior’s arms was only a prayer away – but she did not come – not then.

Some Heart Revelations: Chapter 2

That evening and the next day, Mary Jane enjoyed somewhat the heroine status. She relished it to the full, for she rather loved the dramatic. But sisters have a way of deflating one another. There’s always the bigger’n better story to tell. This one was true too, and we heard Lori saying: “Boy! I’ll never forget the time when you were only four years old, Mary Jane. Jennie and I had to get the cows in and you were fussing and bawling and pestering Mamma to go with us. We all knew you’d get tired and want to be carried home, but Mamma finally gave in. She made you promise to walk yourself home. We got just beyond the west bean field and had to cross that big ditch out there. You were playing cow –.”

“Figures,” interrupted Clara with a leer.

“Well, anyway,” Lori went on, “you were on your hands and feet, Mary Jane, when I saw this great big old rattlesnake! Jennie saw it too. We screamed ‘Snake!’ and ran. But you just stayed right there saying, ‘Where? Where?’ And he was crawling closer and closer!”

“What a dummy!” again interrupted Clara.

“I ‘spect I just wanted to see it, ‘cause I still never have seen a live one,” Mary Jane retorted.

Lori went on: “And I came back and yanked you up just in time and took you home to Mamma.”

“You probably weren’t even chased by a coyote last night. I bet it was somebody’s old dog out hunting. Probably he just wanted you to pet him!” Clara went on. But Daddy had overheard.

“That will do, young lady!” And steel gray eyes punctuated the message with a period.

“Mother, I’ve been thinkin’, these girls have got to learn to ride. Tomorrow I’m getting Macey up in the corral and they can practice everyday for a while. There’s no sense in them walking after the cows like that anymore.”

“But, Ned – she’s rather spirited. You always keep such frisky mares.” Mother looked anxious.

“Yeah, I cain’t stand ‘em too slow myself. But Macey ain’t bad – least she’s milder’n Lucy. They can’t get hurt in the corral. Robbie needs practice too.”

And so it was that riding practice began in earnest.

Later that afternoon, it being Saturday, the waning sun found Mamma and the girls in the large living room, the men folk having gone to town. It was autumn and the distant hills seen from the large west window were delicately veiled in the Indian Summer haze. Indian Summer! How Mary Jane loved it! Once a friend of Jennie’s had tried to write a poem about it. Quite inspired she reached the high point with:

“There’s a somber sadness
In the haze of autumn gray —
There’s a hush expectant
O’er the hills at close of day.”

But she couldn’t make the rest of it smooth. However, the words pleased Mary Jane somehow. Autumn made her “pleasantly melancholy.”

There in the living room today was a cozy scene. Mother was rocking gently in her chair, with the mending on her lap, surrounded by her girls. A cheery fire was burning in the big stove, and a circle of chairs behind it were discreetly draped with blankets. It being a bit chilly, Mother had arranged this warm corner for bath time. Even now the gentle splish-splash of the current bather blended with the song of the tea kettle, the mournful squeak of the windmill leashed for the present in the yard, and Mamma’s chair crick-creaking as she rocked. Everyone was happy and busy. Best of all Mamma was there. Her presence when at ease always produced in all of them something hard to explain – something really nice – peace, love, security, contentment – all rolled into one good feeling. As was typical on such occasions someone chirped, “Mamma, tell us a story!”

“Yes, Mamma, tell us about when you were little!”

“No, Mamma, tell us about when you met Papa!”

The lady thus variously addressed, raised expressive blue eyes, very pretty eyes really, from her mending and a characteristic slightly slanting smile of exquisite sweetness flashed across her face, accompanied by a quaint cozy sound which was perhaps more like a cross between a chuckle and a purr than anything. It somehow carried motherly interest and understanding.

“Oh, girls, you don’t really want to hear Mamma’s old stories again, do you?”

But they did, of course.

“Mamma, when you and Uncle Maxey were lost that time in the mountains, you know, about the cow. Did you ever see the bear?” prompted Ellen.

“Well, no, Honey. I’ll start from the beginning. You see we had this cow — old Mr. Peterson who worked with my father (I guess they did some gold prospecting — had a claim to work together); anyhow he got this cow cheap and gave it to us. I still remember how happy Mother was to get her. We put a bell around her neck and let her graze on the range around our cabin. There were no fences. It was my job with Uncle Maxey, who was only about your age, Mary Jane — eight or so — to bring in the cow each night. Usually she never strayed far as the vegetation was so plentiful near the cabin. But this day was an exception. We called and called and listened for her bell. Without realizing, we strayed quite far ourselves. Night was coming on and I began to think we would have to give up and go home. To my horror, I couldn’t locate anything familiar around me. Trying to hide my growing dismay from Maxey who was holding my hand rather tightly, I looked for a stream of water. Papa had taught me to do this. He said the settlements were in the valleys there, and if I got lost, that is what I should do. We found a stream, all right, and began to follow it down the mountain.
“All of a sudden a great crashing in the underbrush near the water made us nearly faint with fright. Maxey began to cry and I tried bravely to tell him it was just some old wild steer — maybe a wild boar.
“‘We’re lost, Eva! I know it! I know it!’ he cried.
“The sad part, girls, was that I had no one to turn to above. I knew nothing at all of God, so that I could not cry to Him. We stumbled on in the dimming light. My eyes caught something which chilled my blood. I tried to hide it from Maxey. There were very large bear tracks, so fresh that water was still trickling into the depression made by the bear’s feet. Papa had said that there were mostly black bears around there – only an occasional grizzly. Black bears are more likely to run from humans, but a grizzly – well, that could be different. With our hearts pounding and imaginations playing all sorts of tricks on us, it’s a wonder we didn’t just drop from fright. I’m sure I would have, too, if I’d heard a panther scream. (We used to hear them at night in the safety of our cabin.)
“The Lord watched over us even though we were regular little heathen. Before long I began to recognize some landmarks. By the time we got near home, it was so dark that the lights from Papa’s and Mr. Peterson’s lanterns twinkled at us as they started out to search for us.”

“What about the cow, Mamma? Did the bear get her?” asked Mary Jane.

“No. Papa found her next day. But we lost her soon, that is, when we moved closer in to Cimarron.”

“Yeah, I remember you said Grandpa was too ornery to fix the fence and she got out and someone stole her,” Jennie put in. “It just makes me ‘see red’ to think of how you told us you just had bread and water to eat sometimes.”

The sad, faraway look in Mamma’s eyes betrayed no such feelings. “Yes,” she went on, “we used to pretend it was milk and bread. We could see through the neighbor’s window and they were eating good things. Poor Papa! He was too busy drinking and gambling at the saloon to care about us. Oh, I guess he did really care some, anyway when he was sober. I remember once he caught me wiring my poor old ragged shoes on.

“‘Is that all you have to wear, Eva?’ He looked pretty shocked. He had some money in his pocket, and so he took me to town. He bought the prettiest shoes in the store! They were a little big for me, and my sister Jessie wanted them so bad; so I didn’t get to keep them. I expect they pinched her feet.”

“What about Grandpa? Didn’t he spank her? That wasn’t fair!” blustered Lori.

“Well” — and the sad look deepened – “He never seemed to notice anymore. Anyway, Jessie was always wanting to go places. I never had much heart to try to go out.”

“Aw, Mamma. You were a knockout, I’ll bet.” Clara’s head appeared above the blanket. “I don’t see why I had to get Daddy’s great big old Roman nose instead of your pretty little nose,” she moaned, as she polished her clean face. “If I was as pretty as you –.” Clara’s voice trailed.

“Oh, honey, I wasn’t pretty, really. I was always so shy and never had much to wear, of course. No one noticed such a shabby little girl much.”

“Did you have any boy friends besides Noel Vance and Papa?” Clara pursued.

“Well, you know I met your father when I was 17. Before that I really didn’t care much about the boys around there. I knew they drank some – and well the Lord meant to keep me for Papa. But come, while we’re all together I’d like to read a chapter from this little book Mrs. French and I are reading. Fire, or From Loneliness to Relationship it’s called, and it’s so very good.”

As we looked at her rocking gently to and fro, we could see heavenly peace and joy replacing the faraway sad look. As a child she had yearned to know about God, to have an object for her little heart so often grieved and wounded by the sad circumstances of her home. When she married, her own dear husband, though a fine upright young man, knew as little as she of the God who longed to draw them to Himself and lead them through the mazes of life ahead. As each new baby had been placed in her care and helpless little arms were lifted to her, she grieved to think that she could not teach the child of God. Anew she would resolve to learn of Him. It would seem that God had spoken to her as a young girl. An older sister, in an angry outburst at their drunken father, ran away from home, vowing to send for little Eva when she could and see that she got to school.

Just after this, one night a glorious throne seemed to ascend into Eva’s bleak little room. A majestic but kindly Lord seemed to speak to her: “Eva, you must stay at home and obey your parents. Otherwise you will not live long.” This dream impressed her so much that she stayed with her parents and refused her sister’s offer.

Much of her meager wages earned from a little job in a hotel went to pay her father’s debts. It is at least to his credit that he rather tenderly thanked her when she left to be married, especially mentioning her obedience.

The blessed Savior watched over her and led her with a sure and steady hand. Not until all seven of their children had been born, did He see fit to reveal the full light of the glorious gospel of Christ to them. Timed to the exact moment of readiness, dear Mamma heard His voice saying: “Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” She came. Two weeks later her husband answered the same call. The Spirit of God had been moving in each heart privately. Not only were they converted almost together, but they were gathered at the same time around the Lord’s table with the same little group which had been used of the Lord to bring them in.

How happy darling Mamma had been! What joy at last to be so blessed! It seemed that no cloud could ever shadow her horizon again! Keenly they felt the responsibility to bring up their children in the “nurture and admonition of the Lord.”

It was Mrs. Hillman’s habit to arise at least by 5:00 in the morning and pour out her heart privately to God for the lives of their young children. And she always added a special prayer that they might be kept virtuous and morally clean. So it was that she “bought” the opportunities to teach her children, as now she did her girls.

Her sweet voice rose and fell as the good words from the little red book flowed forth. Mary Jane listened, spirits dampened. Why this was the very thing that was beginning to haunt her! She had no joy in Mamma’s books or Mamma’s God. This void in her heart – this separation coming in — oh, the ache of it! She understood the loneliness, but none of the sweet relationship with God. Loneliness, you say, in a family of nine? Down in the inner heart where no other mortal may peep, is the real self. Yes, here is the real self looking out through eyes and speaking through lips that may not give a true report of the counsels held in its secret chambers. God searches here.

When God breathed into man the “breath of life,” He gave him this soul, and it will live forever. Sadly little Mary Jane began to know that she was on an island apart – she, alone, responsible to God. Her little heart burned and ached within her, and she crept closer to Mamma’s side. But however sweetly that sainted lady might smile upon her, or however gently she might caress her little brown head, there was no real balm in it for Mary Jane. With burning shame she thought of how she had told dear Mamma and others that she was saved, vaguely hoping it was true, but mostly to turn aside any further probings. Surely God did not say in vain: “The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked. Who can know it?” Mary Jane began to long to have the peace and joy her Mother knew. But a flaw lay in her desire. She began to seek the feelings of peace and joy more than the God who gives them.

Tried by Fire: Chapter 3

Youthful spirits are often not too long suppressed. The tempter himself had been busy to soothe the pain of Mary Jane’s secret exercises. Back in school again, she felt almost on top and at times in possession of her old gaiety. Anyway, company was coming exciting company!

In the first place, they were from Canada. To the Hillman youngsters, this seemed a faraway foreign country. But the thing that added such spice to the whole thing was that these visitors were the parents of a young man romantically interested in their oldest sister Marguerite. A great feast was being prepared, especially since this visit coincided with Thanksgiving. What could be lovelier save to add no school and a gorgeous crisp shiny day.

Mamma had raised the turkey – all twenty-four pounds – and was busy plucking its feathers. Daddy was clean-shaven and neat in his blue serge suit, almost as shiny (with wear) as his polished shoes which squeaked as he walked briskly along. He and Robbie came in to say good-by for the trip into the city to meet the train. All female hands were needed at home to scrub, polish and bake in preparation.

Mary Jane had been frantically splashing through the milk separator wash up. She hardly thought as she shook the 29 shiny disks that she had strung on their little holder which much resembled a huge safety pin. It had been her custom to slip them into the oven a few minutes to dry, instead of doing them one by one. Mamma had warned her several times that if she ever left them too long, the thin metal coating might melt and they would be ruined.

“A new set costs about five dollars,” she remarked. “You know we can’t afford that.”

“It’s silly not to do it the quickest way. Anyway it’s more sanitary this way. I’ll never forget them,” she would answer rather saucily. It might have been better if Mamma had been more firm, but certainly Mary Jane knew the intent of her mother’s remarks.

Today she popped them into the oven just as Mamma came in with the turkey. How she loved to watch her dress it! Lori had been mixing up the dressing – ready for the giblets when they had been removed and washed and chopped. Pumpkin pies from Lori’s hand too were cooling on the kitchen cabinet. At last the big bird was stuffed and trussed to perfection. Mary Jane opened the oven door for Mamma, and saw them first. Beautiful, silvery droplets were dripping from their sides and a leaden pool was on the oven floor! Oh the agony of that moment! Such idyllic happiness one moment – and now! It was too cruel! No one to blame – only Mary Jane.

Mamma said little. She pitied her stricken little daughter. If she could only have erased that moment of carelessness for her impetuous child, how gladly she would have done so. Her own joyous spirits were sadly dampened.

The thought that caused Mary Jane the most acute pain was the fear that Daddy might spank her in front of the company. You see, Mary Jane was fiercely proud. What she did not know, however, was that her Daddy had a touch of that same pride and might not be too eager for strangers to know of his child’s waywardness. All morning fears ate at her heart as a canker.

In due time the guests arrived. Marguerite was with them and there was much happy visiting. Daddy was in fine form and told some interesting experiences of the “great snow” and others. Mary Jane sat quietly and swallowed her food down so as not to attract attention. She wished she could run and hide. Her heart skipped a beat every time she looked at the clock. “Milk time! Milk time!” it seemed to tick.

But milking time and separator time came and went. And miracle of miracles not a word was said! Daddy had quietly loaded the milk cans in the car and slipped away to the neighbor’s. But would he spank her that night before she went to bed? It was then that she decided it would be best to “throw herself on the mercy of the court” as it were. That is why Daddy saw in the dim headlights of his flivver a forlorn figure waiting to open the gate for him.

“Daddy, I won’t do it again” she sobbed.

He swept her into his big arms. “Daddy understands. I recken you’ve suffered enough.”

Mercy was never sweeter. She almost felt happy that night as she kneeled to pray. Almost – but Mary Jane did not seek clearance from the Higher Court above.

Cactus Landing: Chapter 4

“There!” said Mary Jane, as she clanked the last part into place on the shiny milk separator. “Ellie, if we slip outside right now, nobody can give us a job when we’re gone. It’s so nice outside this morning!”

“Well, I have some mending. My hem ripped out, and you know Mamma said we have to do those things ourselves now. Anyway —.”

“Mending! What are safety pins for? Oh, you can do it later! Come on! Let’s go!” sputtered Mary Jane.

Away they ran out the kitchen door; and for want of a better place to go, scampered playfully with the dogs up the hill towards the lane. A few half-grown calves, some of them real pets, grazed near a fence. They gave the girls a glance but did not bother to run away.

“You know what I have a big notion to do?” sparkled Mary Jane. “See Butterball over there, rubbing his rump on the fence post? I think I’ll ride him. I could climb on him real easy from the fence. Daddy said he reckoned I’d be a great rider. He couldn’t even buck me off his knee when I was little, and I’ve been practicing on Macy.”

“Ride Butterball!” and Ellen looked startled. “Oh, I think he’d be too wild. Don’t you dare! I mean, please don’t!”

“What do you mean ‘wild’? Why, we fed him his milk from a bucket a few weeks ago! Anyway, he likes me. Here I go! Now don’t you scare him away from the post.”

“Idiot! I’ll tell Mamma! Stop, Mary Jane!”

But Mary Jane had sidled up to Butterball, scratched his back a second, and nimbly walked up the fence post support. Before you could hardly say “Jack Robinson” she had made her rodeo debut.

“Ride ‘em cowboy!” she yelled as she grabbed a handful of fur and planted herself lightly on his wide plump back.

It took a second for the startled beast to recover from his shock enough to react. Although his action was slightly delayed, it was no less activated. Butter-ball lived up to everything ever said about bucking steers. Mary Jane’s teeth clanked shut on her tongue and the battle joined. His hide was fairly furry along the neck region, and in no time at all, this became the little girl’s brief and last stronghold. With every second that Mary Jane was able to retain her grip on his hairy neck, Butterball became more panic-stricken. He bucked and kicked and twisted as he charged down the hill. When his load was at last lifted, he continued to put tracks between them, seeming not to know or care that his old “friend and caretaker” was sitting in a cactus bed by the fence. Everything had happened so fast that dazed Mary Jane did not know her mouth was streaming blood, her shoes were gone, stockings were hanging down, and her little apron was ripped half off her body.

Ellen was screaming as she ran to the house, “Mamma! Daddy! Mary Jane’s getting killed!”

Cries of “Are you all right?” – “Can you move?” – “Are your legs broke?” tumbled from the lips of the family members within the range of Ellen’s alarm, as they rushed to her aid.

Mamma’s heart sank as she saw blood coming from her little girl’s mouth. She feared some internal injuries. “Don’t move, darling!” she breathed. “Lori, run tell Daddy to get Dr. Chandler quick!”

“Mary Jane!” shrieked Ellen. “Your mouth! I think I’m going to faint!”

“Yeah – bit my tongue! Mean old Butterball! See if I ever feed him again!” Hot tears began to flow.

“Thank the Lord!” sighed Mother in relief. “Hold it, Lori! I think maybe she’s okay. You’re in the cactus, Honey. Let Mamma help – easy now. There we go! What a nice pin cushion you made!”

“Ooh – ouch! How they sting! Oh, I’m ruined!” wailed the poor little girl.

It took Mamma nearly an hour to pick the spines from and dress the scrapes on the smarting little body. How loving they all were! It almost seemed worth it – all this love and tenderness – until Clara came in from the barn.

“What’s all the cluck cluck about? What did Mary Jane go and do now?”

Ellen almost proudly announced the news of her sister’s ride on the steer.

“Well – of all the – if that isn’t the boneheadedist, most idiotic thing I ever heard tell of! I s’pose you thought you were Annie Oakley or somebody ‘cause you’ve been riding Macey ‘round and ‘round in the barnyard! Well” – and she laughed – “I always say, ‘pride comes before a fall.’ And that, right smack in the cactus bed!”

Ellen, ever loyal to her little sister no matter the cost, almost spat out the words: “The Bible says that, not you!”

“What’s the matter with you? And what in this wide creation makes you think I don’t know that? Can’t I quote the scriptures to you kids when you need it?”

“Oh, Clara!” Mary Jane was glaring from the couch. She looked for Mother, but that lady had gone out for some more wtich hazel. “You’re so –! I’m glad I br—” and then a gasp escaped her lips. She looked almost tragic as she clapped her hand on her mouth. She had almost said, ‘I’m glad I broke your old comb the other day!” Clara had a nice vanity set and had forbidden anyone else to use it. Mary Jane had done so in a great rush on the way to the school bus, and had broken the comb. So cleverly had she later glued it together, that Clara had thought she herself had broken it the next time she used it. Mary Jane could almost feel the stinging slap she would have received had the truth come out.

Clara’s eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”

Mary Jane blinked. Her swollen mouth was set in as mean a line as the flesh permitted, “I’m glad I’m not mean like you!” she retorted.

The cruel stinging words struck home with unexpected force. The girls had not realized that in spite of Clara’s outspokenness and readiness to make fun of them, she had far more tenderness beneath the surface than appeared. Clara looked hurt, her stout exterior melted. She actually began to cry! And when Clara cried – which wasn’t often – she made quite a job of it.

“Oh boo-hoo!” she sobbed. “Nobody around here appreciates anything I do. I might as well be dead! Nobody loves me! So I’m mean! Mean! Just because I try to teach you some sense. I’m mean!”

“Oh, Clara! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” an awed Mary Jane burst out.

“You’re not sorry! You’re not! You do mean it!”

“But- but- not so hard – I mean –.” Then after a miserable pause, Mary Jane said hopefully, “Clara, Wilma Kloster at school said you make the best paper dolls in the whole school. I think so too.”

“But I’m supposed to be so mean!”

Ellen had been watching rather disgustedly. Now she spoke again: “You always make us feel so dumb – and that you know everything.” Then tossing her head, she measured the tones, “There is such a thing as tack, you know.”

“Such a thing as what?” Clara’s tears dried noticeably.

“Tack, T-A-C-K, tack.”

“Hoo boy!” and the old glint returned to Clara’s eyes. “Well, I reckon tacks are a mite sharp. But if you was meanin’ ‘tact’ T-A-C-T, tact, I call it ‘soft soap.’”

Ellen flushed at her mistake, but instantly saw how she could make “the worm turn”. “Well, it is tacks you’re al ways using on us – real sharp ones!”

“See, now there you are! You can’t take any correction! All I do is tell you when you’re stupid and you can’t take it without flying off the handle!”

“Here we go again,” groaned Mary Jane. “But Clara – really. Will you teach me to paint paper dolls like you? Please?”

“Oh, maybe, if I get time. But you have to get your own paints. You can’t smear mine all up, understand? I still think you look kinda guilty,” she remarked as she made a playful pass at her sister’s head. “You sure look awful. Now let me alone. I’m going to pull the weeds out of the garden – the job you didn’t do good enough yesterday. If I don’t, poor Mamma will be doing it.” She was gone, but returned for a second admonition. “If it wasn’t for me you’d get so rotten spoiled no one could stand you!”

“Did the witch hazen soothe the smarting some?” asked Mamma, returning. “And I thought I heard crying. Were you girls quarreling again?”

“Mamma, do you think Clara is trying to help us when she picks at us and calls us dummies all the time?” asked Mary Jane.

“If you ask me, she’s just being nasty!” and Ellen flounced off upstairs.

Mamma sighed. “Perhaps, in her way. She always tells me I’m spoiling you. But all my girls have many lessons to learn. Like Papa says, ‘Some folks are long on talk and short on walk and vice versa.’ You know, the Lord gave us a good story in Matthew 21. A man had two sons that he sent into his garden to work.

“One said, ‘I go, sir,’ but went not. The other said ‘no’ at first, but then went and did his bidding. Clara is rather like that. She does show her love by helping Papa and me. She needs to learn less ‘law’ and more ‘grace.’ But, my little Mary Jane, look to your own ways before God. Now my light bread is risin’ too high, I fear. I must run. You may rest until you feel better.”

As Mary Jane lay in the quiet of the living room, she thought of Clara and the parable Mamma had spoken of. Was it an accident that Mamma had used the word “garden”? She was pretty sure the Bible said “vineyard.” It was only too true that her weed-pulling job in the garden had been a farce. Mostly she had thrown over-ripe cucumbers and spoiled pumpkins at the tree trunks in the orchard. Then she’d found a water snake and chased him to the pond. And Clara, it seemed, had noticed; and she didn’t want Mamma to suffer for her naughtiness. Maybe she has some better points.

“Oh, well,” Mary Jane reasoned hard-heartedly. “Clara works in the garden to get out of doing dishes. She hates housework. I do want to learn to paint paper dolls, though.”

The shock of her accident had taken its toll, and in a few minutes, Mary Jane was asleep.

“Well, well!” Daddy’s voice boomed. “Now if my little pet isn’t a sorry sight! I guess we’re not ready for rodeo riding just yet, eh, Mary Jane?”

Daddy stooped beside the sleepy girl and kissed her cheek. “Daddy’s real sorry. Now you stay off of them frisky calves and steers. Feel like some dinner, Honey?”

The tantalizing odors of fresh baked bread. pumpkin pie and other tasties for the dinner table wafted in from the kitchen. A cozy clatter of dishes and scraping chairs, as things were readied for the final call, bespoke the need to rouse quickly. Mary Jane was starved.

As Daddy helped her up, he remarked, “Remind me someday to tell you how I got my first horse; had to win it by breaking her in myself. That was some ride, I hope to tell ya!”

A reverent silence fell on that dining room scene. All heads were bowed as Daddy asked a lengthy, but fervent blessing for the food, squeezing in a fair amount of gospel for the sake of old Charlie, the new hired hand. The room contained a very large table covered with a strawberry decorated oilcloth. A sideboard at one end of the room housed the dishes and groaned under the weight of several stacks of school books and sundries. A little pot-bellied stove looked lonesome in another corner as all the chairs were needed for the ten eager diners cheerfully gathered around heaping dishes of hearty, but simply food. There was plenty of freshly baked bread and home-churned butter. Mamma was rosy-cheeked from the kitchen stove’s heat and the men talked of farm jobs. Even Robbie joined in this conversation. Mary Jane used to spend many happy hours playing with Robbie, but more and more now he was going off with Daddy. He even drove the horses some to and from the fields. She missed her old playmate sorely. Ellen too was getting “airs” about her. She even liked to sit inside and sew. Mary Jane sighed and ate with difficulty, washing most of the food down with her milk.

Daddy was talking now to the girls: “You girls, now – that shower we had has got the bean shocks damp and musty. If we don’t get them turned and dried, we’ll lose the crop. So I want all of you that Mamma can spare out in the big field across the gulch right after dinner. (On the farm “dinner” was “lunch.”)

Ellen looked dejected. So did Lori. Jennie and Clara never seemed to mind. Mary Jane hated the job, but knew they’d all be easy on her today.

For the unfamiliar, a “shock of beans” is a little mound of newly-cut pinto beans heaped, according to the lushness of the crop, about three or four feet apart to continue drying in the Autumn sun. When they were ready and the threshing machine came, they would be tossed on a wagon and hauled to the threshing site to be shelled out. Naturally, they had to be dry. In a field of forty or so acres, the job seemed hopelessly large. The many hours the children spent plodding up and down these long rows would have dragged sorely had they not learned to entertain each other with stories and jokes and chatter.

How they had laughed one day when Robbie revealed his thoughts. He had lagged so far behind that they passed him coming back on the next round. Being so absorbed in a dream of his own he didn’t notice the girls, and waving his hand grandly over the field he commanded, “Beans, get in the shock!” If only the job could have been done that way!

Today Jennie was giggling gaily, hardly watching as she slipped her pitchfork under a shock. Instantly she felt a strange consistency to the ground. As she raised the bunch of half dry beans, an ominous, not too – loud but sinister sound buzzed out. In an instant she dropped everything and fled. “Rattlesnake!” Everyone else ran too. Apparently he had a hole nearby. Although Daddy searched all around, he was not able to find the snake. How warily they stepped and turned the rest of the day!

“What a day this has been!” groaned Mary Jane as she crawled into bed ahead of Ellen who was still kneeling in prayer. Mary Jane had a sore knee and had skipped through her prayers very sketchily.

“I’ll say!” agreed Ellen later. “If I have nightmares, do you promise to tell me a story if I wake up?”

“Of course, Ellen. You know our pact. You have to tell me one too, if I wake up. But be awful careful of my sore knees. I still think maybe I have some stickers left in my sitter! Good night, Ellen.”

Before long the two were sound asleep. The Autumn moon shone down upon the peaceful prairie homestead and the souls within the big house. Here were sheep of God’s pasture – a sanctified household. Each name, each heart was known to Him. Some were His children and some He had yet to lead in the right way. Had not each name come up before His throne even that morning?

A Second Tumble: Chapter 5

Mary Jane had a very “single eye” one beautiful Saturday morning. As she hurried to put the last piece in place on the milk separator, she looked about, hoping eagerly that no further jobs would be called. There were kittens in the barn – three darling bundles of excitement. Even now they might have round, violet eyes opened to the world for the first time! Mary Jane could hardly wait and checked on them as often as she could slip out to their cozy hiding place in the hayloft.

Hyperbole, the mother, had been so extravagantly named by a young engineering student who loved to work on the farm in the summers. Mary Jane had been told the meaning of the word, but it hadn’t registered too well. Claude had been amused at her extra super show of love at times, and he said that the name fit her personality. So be it. The word sounded grand enough for her precious tabby. The babies, she and Ellen had named. Twinkle, for a tiny star between her tightly shut eyes; White foot, for very obvious reasons; and Mitzi, her own special name that she had remembered reading about somewhere among the many stories in her collection.

Joy! At her first peep today, Twinkle greeted her with one and a half eyes opened. And Mitzi, two eyes! Hyperbole purr-r-r-ed sweetly and licked the babies right off their wobbly footing. Mary Jane spent a blissful half-hour with the little family, oblivious to all else.

A persistent sound of distant calling began to make an impression.

“Who? Oh, I don’t want to hear!” she murmured. But it was dear Mamma’s voice, and it was a distinct “Mar-y Jane!”

She sighed and slid down the hay to the door, answering reluctantly.

“Come, honey!” Mamma called. “I want you to run the butter over to Mrs. Mercer.”

That was different! A fun job! She loved to bicycle the little crock of butter over to the neighbors’ about a mile and a half away. Mrs. Mercer was chatty and interesting and had a dear little daughter about five years old. No need for further words.

Mary Jane happily attached the little crock to the handle bars of Robbie’s shabby bicycle. Still being rather unskilled, she found a slope to help her start as she wobbly mounted, for the scabs were just nicely off her knees and elbows from the learning process. Soon she was pedaling gaily down the sandy lane, watching for the many bad bumps and holes. Suddenly, a little rabbit leaped out from the roadside. He seemed to turn and laugh as he loped easily ahead.

“Catch me if you can, eh! All right, Mr. Rabbit!”

Then came the crash. Mary Jane found herself in a thick clump of weeds, aware of bruises and fresh scrapes to her elbows and arm.

“The butter! Oh, I can’t bear to look!” she groaned.

“Aren’t you lamb’s lettuce, or something?”

“And Robbie, oh, I sure hope the bike is okay!”

For a moment there was an urge to cry. Once she had the courage to move, the little girl found herself intact. And, wonder of wonders, there was the butter, lid gone and a neat sprig of weed “planted” in the golden pot of fresh butter.

“Well, weed,” Mary Jane addressed, “you and your family here sure saved my butter and bones! Thanks!”

“Hey! Aren’t you ‘lamb lettuce’ or something? You’re a big pest in the garden, but I think you are even eatable. Anyway, I’ll just unplant you and” – groan – “be on my way! I’ve seen Mrs. Mercer pick worse from her food!”

The bike was richer in its antique appearance, but ride able. Finding the lid unbroken, she resealed the crock and pedaled gingerly the rest of the way.

Mrs. Mercer was a woman of talent and ability. She had been a school teacher and was quick with wit and tongue. As Daddy tritely put it, her husband Joe was “slower than molasses in January.” Their farm was small and poor. His little wife must have suffered quite a jolt when she came face to face with the facts of her situation. But she bravely and cheerfully did the best she could to help, and usually bought and raised from three to five thousand chickens yearly.

These kept the family fed and clothed. She was a self-righteous woman, however, and scorned dear Mamma for her religious beliefs. She complained that these kept her out of the local school and church politics where she was needed. Most of all, she had no patience with Mamma’s ignorance of neighborhood news. She couldn’t understand anyone who wouldn’t listen in on the party line. But she was kind and lively to talk to.

Joe’s milk cows hadn’t survived, for he had neglected their Black Leg inoculations. And, since Mrs. Hillman had few chickens by comparison, the two ladies exchanged commodities.

Mary Jane tried not to look about the untidy kitchen too closely. She saw enough to feel at ease about the slightly contaminated butter which she did not mention. Little Marjorie modeled the ruffled dress Lori had made for her birthday, and after a pleasant chat, Mary Jane said her good-bye. It was with considerably more care that she wheeled home with the fragile eggs.

Mamma caught the new scrapes and a new tear in Mary Jane’s apron right away.

“It’s just what I was afraid of! I thought that lane too rough and you’re too new at bike riding. Are you sure the butter was okay?”

“Sure. Honest, Mamma, it was the rabbit’s fault. I’m getting better all the time at riding. Anyway, I found one good use for those old Lamb’s Lettuce weeds. They grow so thick and tall in the ditch, that it was nearly like falling in the hay.”

“It’s ‘Lamb’s Quarters,’ and it’s a good thing for you that you tumbled into them. However, I’m not sure you should –,” and she thoughtfully applied some iodine.

“Ouch! Mamma, please forget it. I’ll be more careful!”

Mamma Uses the Sword: Chapter 6

It was a school day, and the family was finishing breakfast at the big table. Empty oatmeal dishes sat at each place along with some remnants of hot biscuits and a few scraps of home-cured bacon. Clara had seemed a little nervous and strange. She waited until Mamma had gone to the kitchen for more coffee and looked at Daddy thumbing through his Bible to find his reading place.

“Pop,” Clara began, “you know we have assembly programs every Friday at school. Each room takes a turn to entertain the student body. Well, our turn is coming up, and you don’t care if I help – just with the little play we made, do you?” The words tumbled out quite rapidly and she pulled at her blouse nervously.

Daddy and Mamma had been most strict about allowing participation in or attendance at worldly entertainments. “It’s just school kids, Daddy,” Clara went on, but saw fit to rest her case when Mamma came back. They all knew that Daddy was, in many ways a softer touch than Mamma.

“Oh, I guess it’s all right,” he replied graciously. “Now, girls, are your lunches all made and ready? I’m going to read. Let’s see, we haven’t as much time as I’d like.”

Mary Jane was secretly relieved when readings had to be short. They usually made the old ache return. Soon the cry “Here comes the bus over the hill!” rang out, and helter skelter they were off.

A few days later, pressing business called Mr. Hillman away to a city 75 miles distant. He would be gone overnight too – a real rarity in those days. Robbie, being the only boy, was picked to go along. Mamma announced the news at the supper table. Mary Jane and Ellen spoke in an exact chorus, “Please can I sleep with you when Daddy is gone?” This was considered a really nice treat.

Mamma laughed. “Run get a straw and you can draw. Short piece wins. Here, Jennie, you officiate.”

Mary Jane won. With joy, she skipped around the table. When she thought of it more seriously, she didn’t think she could have stood it all alone in the dark room. That awful loneliness seemed so unbearable with the wind moaning around the eves at night. She even wondered if she might talk it over with Mamma – tell her heartache.

The next evening, chores finished and supper ended, Mamma brought out a paper bag. They were cozy around the fire. Most of the girls were doing homework or reading.

“Gum drops!” Mamma announced. “Daddy left you a little surprise.”

Everyone was happy, but Clara seemed restrained. She usually said something like, “Don’t take them all. Leave some for me. How many pieces do you have, Mary Jane?” She acted like she didn’t even know she was nibbling her candy as she began nervously: “Mamma, Daddy said I could be in our assembly program. Well, we have this little play, and I’m supposed to be an old hobo. So can I use some of Daddy’s old overalls – just for the play?”

“Did Daddy really say you could act in a play?” Mamma looked troubled.

“Yes, I heard him at breakfast the other day,” Mary Jane put in. Clara shot her a look.

“Well, frankly, I don’t like it. If you have to be in it, why didn’t you at least pick a girl’s part?” And the pink color began to rise at the base of Mamma’s neck. She picked up her Bible.

“Now let me get this straight, you want to wear Daddy’s old overalls and be a hobo in front of the class. Is that right?” Assured it was, Mamma then thumbed through her well-worn Bible. By now she was a rosy pink in places. Poor Mamma was really upset. Why did old Clara have to spoil everything!

Mamma cleared her throat. “Clara, and all of you, listen. Deuteronomy 22:5 reads: ‘The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man... for all that do so, are an abomination unto the Lord thy God.’ Now, that’s Scripture! Young lady, I cannot allow my daughter to do such a thing, nor can I imagine that a Christian girl would even ask to do so. And that is that!” Mamma closed the book. Her chin trembled, but she was adamant.

Clara got up and went to her room. Later, mostly out of curiosity, Mary Jane stopped by her door. It was ajar.

“Well? What’s eating on you?” Clara didn’t seem rude, but combed through her black hair with the unmatching replacement to the comb Mary Jane had broken. She seemed to be before that mirror a lot lately. Clara was rather a handsome girl.

“Why aren’t you still cross at Mamma?”

“Cross? What for? I knew that’s what she’d say,” and Clara was almost smiling. “Mamma is death on wearing pants – any kind.”

“Well, what did you try to pull it over for?”

Clara shrugged. “Might as well try. Daddy is getting softer in his old age. But Mamma – might have got by if Daddy hadn’t been gone. You know, Mary Jane, we never have any fun, hardly. Work, work, work! That’s all we hear! And Ray Robertson –.” Clara glanced in the mirror – “Ray Robertson says that the boys around here just about think Daddy would shoot them if they tried to go with any of us.”

“Aw that’s crazy! He knows better than that. His brother Cecil likes me too. He ‒.”

“Who said anything about anybody liking me, now?” Clara flushed, then gazed out her window. “Anyway, Mary Jane,” and she sounded almost relieved, “at least we always know where Mamma stands – right smack on the Bible – and that’s that! She’s sorta sweet and gentle, but on some things she won’t budge one little old cotton pickin’ inch!”

A half smile flitted to Clara’s mouth and she said after a pause, “I’ll tell you a secret though – no, on second thought, I won’t, You’d blab it to someone sure.” And nothing Mary Jane could say would jar it loose.

Later that evening Mary Jane snuggled close to dear Mamma, warm and cozy in the big iron bed. The Vick’s salve Mother put in her nose at night for the hay fever Mary Jane didn’t mind at all. It went with Mamma’s nighttime image.

“Oh, Mamma, if I could only just hug you so tight, I could just – well sorta ride into heaven along with you!”

Although this was a revealing remark as to her little girl’s state of soul, Mrs. Hillman expressed no shock.

“I understand, Honey. But you know this cannot be, don’t you?”

“Yes – and well – sometimes – er, oh, Mamma, I don’t think I’m really saved! I want so much to be happy like you and Daddy and Jennie and – and –.” heavy sobs shook her little body.

“Now listen, dear. You said you wished you could ride into heaven with me. Well, in a way, that’s what we who are saved will do with the blessed Savior when He comes. He has in a figure bound us up in the same bundle of life with Himself. He bore the strokes of wrath from God for our sins. It was His blessed head bowed, His breast bared instead of ours. In a sense we went into death with Him and were raised up with Him. We get that in Ephesians 2 “But God, who is rich in mercy, for His great love wherewith He loved us, even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ (by grace ye are saved;) and hath raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus.” And God sees us in Christ. He is our righteousness before God and we are made the righteousness of God in Him.

“Just ask Him to make you His own. Of course, you must feel a need – as you seem to. Repentance is taking sides with God against yourself. God says your heart is sinful and deceitful ( and you know it), that you are without strength to live without sin, and you indeed are likely to do even the most evil things. Well, you just say to God, ‘It’s all true. I deserve judgment.’ Then look at the blessed Savior. He took that judgment already, if you will just believe on Him. ‘Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.’ Haven’t you ever come to Him? He loves you far more than Mamma or Daddy ever could.”

“Well, I will now,” and Mary Jane climbed out of bed. Kneeling down she lifted her eyes to heaven and said: “Lord Jesus, I want to be attached to Thee! Please save me. I know I need my sins washed away!”

It was a step in faith. She knew the Lord heard her and felt something of the load being lifted. Almost immediately, however, her thought turned inward. “Am I as brightly happy as the people I read about in the Sunday school paper? Was I really properly saved?” Somehow, the good solid facts of the doctrine of salvation hadn’t entered too well as yet. Mary Jane was very full of Mary Jane. However, she slept in peace and felt much, much better.

“He that hath begun a good work in you will complete it ‒”

We do not mean to imply that she was imperfectly saved – not at all. Her understanding of salvation in its perfectness and beauty was fogged by occupation with her own feelings. Her faith was placed in the right Person and His work. Mary Jane had read so many, many stories, and she kept comparing her feelings and experiences with these.

Keep your eyes on Him – His work – His love for you, dear young reader, and you will escape many a weary hour of doubt.

Mrs. Hillman praised the Lord for His work in her little daughter’s heart. She knew that Mary Jane was troubled; and oh, how she had prayed for her! She wished that Mary Jane had thanked the Lord for washing her sins away. “I suppose one shouldn’t put words in other people’s mouths,” she thought. “The work must all be His. He will lead her on into all truth, I know. But we must try to make it all as clear as possible.”

Country School Drama: Chapter 7

The community school where the Hillman children attended might have seemed poor and small to more sophisticated city-dwellers. But to these simple folk it was a very fine place. It was built of yellow brick and actually had showers in the basement restrooms and a large room for activities and assemblies. The ball games, however, were played in the town auditorium.

On this particular autumn day, when Daddy was still away, the school buses were in their accustomed places having received the buoyant and mostly unkempt lads and lasses from grades 1-12 who lived in the country. The town dwellers could be seen sauntering off in varying groups or a few stragglers bouncing balls on the playground. Ted Polson looked at his watch: “Can’t wait any longer, Jennie, you sure Clara was in school today? Don’t you think she probably went to the ball game? The bus ain’t in yet from the game. I reckon somebody’ll bring ‘em home. I’ve already waited 15 minutes.”

“Well – I didn’t think she went to the game.” (Jennie hated to say, “Daddy doesn’t allow us to go to the ball games.”) She didn’t, however, need to be timid, for a girl, greatly disliked by Mary Jane, shouted from the back of the bus, “The Hillmans are too religious to go to ball games!”

“Haw! Haw! Suture Ted. Let’s get rollin!” Horace French rudely guffawed! He was a cruel boy.

Jennie, Lori, and Ellen flushed and looked at the floor. Mary Jane and Robbie and Alfred French were having a scuffle over a left over apple from lunch and didn’t hear.

The bus driver winked at Bertha French and slyly remarked: “So old Ned’s got a little rebel in his camp, eh? Yah, that Clara – she’s got the spunk, all right. I hope she has a ‘ball’ at that ball game!”

Seated at last as the bus rolled down the dusty road, Mary Jane gasped, “Jennie! Lori! We left Clara!” What a jab in the ribs Lori gave her!

“Be quiet, dummy! We think Clara went to the game, and the bus didn’t get back in time. Just because Daddy’s gone she has to –.” And Lori bit her lip so hard it nearly bled.

“Wow! Will she get it when he gets home!” and Mary Jane’s heart went out in genuine pity to this sister she was beginning to relate to more and more. She noticed that some of the other children on the bus were whispering and giving the Hillmans side glances. The older girls felt it most. Jennie looked at Ellen with whom she was sitting and sighed painfully, “It sure isn’t easy to be a separate Christian, is it, honey? But don’t worry. It’ll all be worth it someday.”

Ellen was wondering. She didn’t have settled peace like Jennie, though she loved the Lord. Their social life was – well, there just wasn’t much. The meeting they attended was sixty miles away and there were few children there. No wonder the Hillmans clung to each other so tightly!

Our scene changes and the clock turns back a few hours. The game is over amid joyous shouts of victory. They had all cheered until their voices could hardly squeak. The driver was hustling the excited youngsters into the bus; but Clara, oh no, she was one of the luckier ones who had a friend with his own car. Ray Robertson generously offered rides to many more. The little Model T Ford was loaded so tightly that the coach came around to order a few into the bus. But Clara was in the middle of the front seat next to Ray.

“Comfortable, Clara?” he asked solicitously. “See, we didn’t do anything bad; just had a heap of fun! Don’t worry now. Your old Pop won’t ever know.”

“Hey Ray! Step on it, will you? I got to make that bus home! My Dad would sure kill me if I didn’t!” shouted a boy in the back seat.

Away they roared. Clara was uneasy. To make matters worse, Ray lightly placed his right arm across her shoulders and dexterously wheeled his little car out to the country road.

“Beat the bus, Ray! C’mon. Let’s don’t eat their dust all the way!” another girl yelled.

In a great flurry of dust, Ray roared around the bus. Any “local yokel” could have told him he was going too fast to make the curve by the old Blake place. But Ray had a challenge and a girl to show off for.

Five minutes later the bus driver came upon them. The Model A had done a flip and was sitting across a ditch wrong side up. Someone’s legs were hanging out a broken window and the boy who had been sitting next to Clara was in the ditch bleeding and dazed.

“Oh, God, help us!” the bus driver breathed, pulling the bus over quickly. “All girls stay in the bus! Boys out and help!”

Just then the coach and some others drove up. There were plenty of strong arms and backs and willing hands. But the damage was done. Ray was badly cut on the face; one boy had a broken leg, and pretty little Wanda Carter had a broken front tooth. Clara felt as if every bone was broken at first, but finally emerged with minor cuts and a whopping bruise on her thigh.

“How any of ‘em came out alive, I’ll never know! The good Lord must’ve been breathin’ down somebody’s neck for sure!” the bus driver remarked when it was all over. “Kids don’t seem to be no different than when I was a lad. Only difference is we didn’t have no throttle to open up. I seen it comin’, though.”

It was a miserable evening for Mrs. Hillman and the girls. Hardly a cheerful word was spoken. But they jumped from their chairs all at once when about seven o’clock the phone rang at last, one long and a short ( the Hillman’s ring on the party line). At least they knew Clara was alive and would be home before long. Then about nine o’clock a subdued, red-eyed and aching Clara walked into the kitchen. Ray’s father had driven her home.

How sad Mamma looked as she read from the Word where the Lord chastens those of His children who are wayward. “I guess Christians just can’t get by with much!” sighed Lori.

“No, honey, they can’t. But our Christian testimony has really been tarnished. Everyone knew our stand, so it’s – well, just sad.” Mamma’s head was down.

Daddy didn’t get home until eleven P.M., so Clara had to go to bed with further judgment hanging over her head. Mary Jane remembered her agony over the separator disks, and sympathized. She went to Clara’s room. But the door was shut. She heard sniffs and nose blowing within.

“Clara?”

“What do you want? Go away!”

“Please, Clara. Talk to me. I’m not mad at you.” “Well, okay! Come in.”

Clara looked the picture of dejection. Her hair was stringing, one eye was black and there was a swollen bruise on her lip.

“Don’t just stare at me! I know I look a sight! Take it from me, Mary Jane, –. It’s well – sometimes I think it’s better to give up and just plow straight. I think Mamma must pray about all the time.”

“Yeah, I think she does.” Mary Jane sat on the bed. “She was always shutting her eyes and sending up quick ones tonight, I know. Did you think you were going to be killed when it happened?”

“I didn’t have time to think. Believe me, you can’t get saved in time if you aren’t already, when an accident happens. I – I guess I deserved more than I got.” Clara actually looked humble!

“I wanted to tell you, Clara. You were out this morning – but I – I got saved last night.”

“Well, well!” and Clara looked pleased. “I thought you was already. But anyway, that’s good. I guess I’m a good example of how not to behave. At least, I’m good for something’,” and she smiled a wry smile. “I’ll bet I don’t do that again, real soon, though.”

“Was that the secret – I mean, about going to the game with Ray Robertson?”

“Oh, get out of here, will you?” And a pillow came straight for Mary Jane’s head!

The “heart-to-heart” talk was over.

Next evening Daddy and Clara were closeted. Mary Jane strained to hear bits of the lecture. Phrases reached her ears such as, “ball games not bad in themselves... associations formed... snares of the devil... realize... loneliness... Lord graciously make up the loss... patiently wait...”

Clara, in the days to come, was much less ready with the “How could you be so stupid?” line.

Rendezvous With Danger: Chapter 8

It was a chilly autumn day and some of the older girls and the hired man, Cliff, were out trying to get the corn in from the fields before snow. Robbie drove the wagon. A heavy rain had lately destroyed some water gaps in the pasture and Daddy had saddled Lucy to run out and appraise the damage. He had just returned and came in for a drink of hot coffee and one of the savory cinnamon rolls Mamma had just taken from the oven. That morning Mary Jane had awakened with a sore throat; but when she found it kept her out of husking corn, she considered it rather lucky.

A sudden light rat-a-tat on the kitchen door surprised them. There stood little Jeanne French.

“Mr. Hillman,” she piped up sassily, “you better come get your cows out of our corn! My Daddy said,” but Daddy interrupted.

“No sooner said than done! My horse is saddled and ready. Mom, give her a roll and we’ll be off. Would the young lady care to ride home? If so, hike up there behind the saddle and hang on.”

Jeanne was a little taken aback by the friendly reception after her rather belligerent approach. She allowed herself to be hoisted up behind the saddle and swallowed her sticky roll down quickly between giggles.

“I’m right sorry the cows got out, Jeanne. This rain y’ know has washed out some fences.”

“Urn-hum,” and she wiped her hands on Mr. Hillman’s jacket.

“Make her go fast. I want to run!”

“What’s yer rush? And what, may I ask, is tickling your funny bone? You’ve been snickering like Lucy was switching’ her tail up under yer chin.”

“Tee-Hee-Hee!” she laughed devilishly. “I’m just laughing at how our bull is going to kill you!”

Hillman whistled softly. Wheeling Lucy abruptly, he raced back to the barn.

“Hey, you take me home and get your old cows!” Jeanne was nasty.

“Hold on a sec’, girl. And thanks for telling me.” Quick as a wink he picked up a strong leather buggy whip tucked in a niche on the corral fence.

“Hold tight, now, and I’ll give you a run for your money!”

He let her off a little distance from the house.

“What in the –! Well, I’ll be horsewhipped! If that ain’t old Joe his self and the kids all out there behind the corn crib to see the show!” His lips tightened. “And, all bein’ well, we’ll give ‘em a show to remember!”

As he approached the field, he saw a few of his own cows and the French’s huge, long-horned bull browsing in a sparsely fruited, poorly cared for field of corn. French was famous for things other than farming. It was a scarcely veiled secret in the neighborhood that the unexplained prosperity of the family did not come from expertise in farming. Everyone else around the countryside de-horned their bulls when young to reduce the danger of injury, for bulls often have touchy dispositions. But not French. The bull immediately resented the horse and rider’s approach, considering them a threat to his happy situation and domain. Lowering his massive horned head, he pawed the dirt, bellowing ominously.

Mr. Hillman continued his roundup skillfully, while keeping a wary eye on the bull. “Here he comes, Lucy,” he whispered. Holding the reins firmly in one hand and the whip in readiness, he let the bull charge oh-so-very-close! At the right instant, quick little Lucy side-stepped and the cruel whip lashed out across Old Thunder’s blood-shot eyes. He roared and twisted in rage and pain. It was a little harder to sight his enemy again, but charge again he must and beat them to the dust. On he came in fury, foam and lather! Again the cruel whip seared his eyeballs. That was enough! Half-blinded and spirit-broken for the moment, he turned and trotted away. The cows were guided home.

Back again in the house, the family had returned from the field and the girls were resting a minute before starting chores.

“Eva, you won’t believe what that – that murderous old Joe tried to pull over!”

“Why, Ned! What’s wrong?”

All eyes were on Daddy. He told his story as none else could, and they listened aghast.

Jennie had stood transfixed during the tale of the encounter with the bull.

“Oh! Daddy! Magnificent! If only I could have seen it!” she glowed.

“Magnificent! Why I – I – I’ve got to sit down!” cried Mamma. “Oh, Ned! To think of dear Helen French having to live with a man like that!”

“Well,” and Jennie looked a little ashamed; “I was only thinking of how Daddy handled the horse and all – – –.”

Unmistakably, pride glowed on Daddy’s face a second and his straight shoulders seemed a little more square as he remarked casually, “Your old Dad didn’t punch cows fer all them years – since I was 15 to be exact – fer nothin’! Now, Eva, y’see why I like a good horse around. One of them old slow nags and I’d a been done fer!”

Clara hadn’t spoken, but her eyes danced. “I don’t see why someone doesn’t turn in that – that – moon-shiner – and I bet he really did threaten to kill Mrs. French if she gets baptized!”

Mamma looked indignant. “Well, of course. You don’t think Helen would lie to me! I know. Ned, you act like you don’t hardly believe her either!”

“Now just calm down, Mamma. ‘Course I believe her. But what I was meanin’ is I don’t think he’d really do it. He’s yeller all up and down his crooked backbone. I remember right here in this very kitchen – why he was a standin’ right there where Lori stands ( that was years ago before we were converted) Joe, he come over mad as a hornet over some fence problems.”

“‘Wester Heelman,’ he says, and them green eyes was mean as a snake’s. ‘Meester Heelman, I challenge you to duel, I fight duel with you!’

“‘Okay, Joe,’ I says, lookin” im square in the eyes. ‘Name your weapons man.’

“All that bluff melted in a second and he was whimperin’, ‘No, No! Meester Heelman! I deed not mean it!” Daddy threw his head back and laughed heartily.

“No, seriously though, Clara, our place isn’t to get the law on him. We’d ought to get the Lord on ‘em. I reckon I’d go over tomorrow and give him the gospel again if I thought he’d receive it.”

“He’ll never get saved I’ll bet,” Jennie said in disgust. “You can’t limit the grace of God,” Mamma said a little heatedly. “Our hearts are all the same. His is bad, and even, it would seem, murderous; but the Scripture says that he who hates his brother is a murderer. I’ve heard some pretty strong talk around here –!. But,” then Mamma smiled a triumphant little smile, “it would be such a triumph of His grace – and just like our Lord! I think Joe will some day be in heaven!”

A sudden sound in the direction of the dining room almost startled the family. There was old Charlie. It was hard for him to speak much English, some Slavish tongue being native to him, but he almost sputtered, “Na, Na! old Joe – he not go to heaven! Charlie know old Joe. Bad egg! Taka too much dollah! Too much dollah to get Joe to heaven!”

“Charlie old boy,” Daddy said patiently, “How many times have I showed you from the Word of God that salvation is free?”

But old Charlie, steeped in the darkness of the Eastern Catholic Church could never seem to lay hold of the truth as it is in the Word. To him, this doctrine of salvation by grace alone was heresy.

“He not get outa de purgatory – too much dollah!” and Charlie hurried outside.

Daddy shook his head. “There may be more hope for old Joe French,” he said sadly.

Lori had been biting her lip thoughtfully. “Daddy, I wish you’d let me try to collect the money old Joe owes you.”

“Go to it! But he’ll roll those big eyes at you and squeeze out a few tears. Then he’ll manage to attract your attention to his poor old hunch back and you’ll offer to loan him yer piggy bank savin’s. And, boy! He’d take ‘em too!”

“I’ve got a feelin’ though, Mom,” and Dad looked a little uneasy, “jest a feelin’ maybe – but I’m afraid we’re not through with that old –.”

“Ned!” Mother remonstrated. “Watch your language! The idea, in front of the children –!”

“The bull, Mom. The bull, I was referrin’ to. Old Joe may be the devil’s servant but I warn’t callin’ him names. There, there now Mamma! Don’t you worry. I aim to live peaceably with ‘em as much as lies in my power, that is.”

And the little gathering broke up for chore time. But Mamma’s step had no spring and her head was often bowed. She grieved for the plight of her dear sister in the Lord. “How her righteous soul must be grieved from day to day!” (Helen French had not as yet been courageous enough to take the step of baptism, for Joe had threatened again and again to shoot her if she did.) “At least he doesn’t stop our weekly readings,” she sighed.

On the way to the barn, Mary Jane skipped beside her Daddy.

“Charlie is such a funny old man! He doesn’t seem to like us kids much, though.”

“Well,” Daddy answered, “I reckon he jest never run up against too many in his experience being a bachelor all these years. Children’re somewhat of a mystery to him, and a trouble. Jest don’t take it to heart.”

But Charlie was a source of trouble to the children. He seemed to think they were often making fun of him and deliberately plaguing him. Consequently, they felt more like doing – just that. But not as often as he supposed.

One Saturday morning, shortly before lunch time, Charlie approached Daddy fuming: “Meester Heelman, your keeds taka my pipe and hide it! They no tell where ‘tis – just laugh alla time and say they didna touch it. Charlie know better! Look all over and not find pipe! Your keeds they alla time tease old Charlie!”

So it was that Daddy called the clan together – all except Lori. She was nowhere to be found.

“Now, children,” and Daddy looked really stern. “These monkey shines of yours have got to stop. I’ll not have you plaguing Charlie. Get that pipe of his, and get it NOW. No one is getting a bite of lunch until you’ve given it back. That’s final. Hear me?”

“But, Daddy, he just lost it himself,” began Clara. But the steel gray eyes sent an unmistakable message her way.

They all began to search high and low. Someone remembered Charlie was seen napping on the sunny side of a hay stack and they searched there too.

“You don’t suppose Lori would have –? Where on earth is she?” grumbled Jennie. “Just wait. Someday I’m going to get even with mean old Charlie!”

A very discouraged group began to gather where Daddy and Charlie waited. Mamma had called for lunch and things seemed to have reached an impasse. Just then Lori came running over the knoll from the direction of the French’s farm. She was triumphantly waving a five dollar bill shouting “Eureka!”

But Daddy looked so stern and everyone was so solemn that her elation quickly melted away.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s Charlie’s old pipe,” Clara almost hissed. “He says we hid it. Lori, if you got us into all this trouble.”

But Lori looked as innocent as a baby.

“Hey! What’s that sticking out of your shirt? – No, the pocket on the other side!” Lori was looking at Charlie’s shirt.

There was the missing pipe!

Charlie was dumbfounded. Instead of apologizing, he sputtered something about “Keeds alla time tease old Charlie and maka da fun!” and he went off to the barn too ashamed to eat his lunch.

“Well, I like that!” Jennie exclaimed. “He ought to apologize!”

“By rights he ought to,” Daddy answered. “But let it pass. I’m right glad you weren’t all that bad. However, get this clear now. No more teasing Charlie! Now let’s go eat.”

Seated around the big table to the usual Saturday lunch – steaming pinto beans and bread and butter Lori again produced the fiver.

“Isn’t anyone going to ask me about this? After all my efforts! I collected it from old Joe. Remember, Daddy, you told me to ‘go to it’ when I asked you if I could?”

Daddy’s mouth dropped open. “You didn’t – you well, I never! Lori, I never dreamed you’d try in the first place. In the second place, I wouldn’t have let you if I had any idea you would. In the third place, I can’t believe it. But go ahead and tell us your story!”

Lori’s eyes danced with delight as all eyes were upon her.

“Well, I made sure Mrs. French was home first, just in case. When I went up to him out by the barnyard and said ‘Good morning, Mr. French,’ he took off his old trench hat and bowed so gallantly he almost scraped the ground. We talked a bit and then I told him what I came for. He pursed his lips and squinted his eyes so cunningly it made me wish I hadn’t come. Boy! It just came over me that he looks just like old John Silver in Treasure Island! He did exactly like you said he would, Daddy! Cried around – really squeezing out some tears! And even more! He can make sweat come out on his forehead, and look so pitiful! But I just remembered about the bull and didn’t feel one bit sorry for him! He said he was not ‘lucky’ with the fanning ‘like your Papa.’ I said, ‘It takes hard work and not luck.’ Then he cried about his poor broken back and how hard it was to get around; his manure spreader was broken and he had to go to town to get a part (‘but I have no money’); and then he wiped real sweat off his face and whined, ‘Even zee old flivver, she not crank up for me.’ I just answered ‘Well, what about Balzar and Horace and Victor, your big boys? My Daddy only has Robbie and he’s just eleven years old! And about money, my Daddy always sells a steer when he has to have cash.’
“‘But my dear leetel Fran, one cannot get zee blood from zee turnip. I have no steer to sell.’
“Just then a nice fat steer came around the corner of the barn! I pointed to him and said, ‘What do you call that animal?’
“He looked so surprised! Then he threw his head back and laughed. Flipping out his wallet, he gave me this five dollars.
“Then the awful part came! He pushed his big, round face up so close to mine that his mustache almost touched me. His big eyes looked like his bull’s – almost.
“‘My leetel Fran, she drives the hard bargain, no?’ Then he pinched my cheek.
“Believe me, I thanked him and got out of there in a hurry! Ugh! I can still smell the wine and tobacco on his breath!”

“Now, I know who to call on fer bill collectin’!” Daddy laughed. “That’s rich! Old Joe’s met his match!”

Mother, however, looked severe. “Well, you sure wouldn’t have had my permission to go up there! It’s a wonder – well no more bill collecting from him, as far as I’m concerned for any of you girls.”

“Well, now, Mamma,” Daddy put in. “It’s done now. I reckon Lori earned every cent of this five. What you aimin’ to order from Monkey Ward’s catalog, eh, Lori?”

“A new winter hat and shoes,” was the immediate answer. “I have them already picked out.”

Ol' Blood and Thunder Falls: Chapter 9

Scarcely more than three days after, the children were in school and Mrs. Hillman was busy clearing away the dishes after lunch. Charlie was cleaning out the horse barn, and Mr. Hillman had taken Cliff to see about the windmill southwest of the house. It seemed that something needed repairing about it.

“We’ll swing around to the south field and take the shares off the plow I left out there. I want to try a little idea I have to improve that rig ’afore Spring. We might as well take along the shot gun in case we see one of them coyotes as has been after Mom’s turkeys this fall.”

Off they went. Not long after, Mrs. Hillman heard the unmistakable report of the shot gun. “Well, good enough! Maybe one less coyote! The pelt should be fairly good too with the animal’s winter fur grown in,” she thought.

Suddenly the door burst open. Almost tossing the gun on the table, Daddy exclaimed, “I knew it, Mom. I knew it! I had to shoot him this time! It was him or me!” His face was pale. Cliff came up panting.

Mamma was aghast. “Who – what did you shoot?”

“Cliff, hop in the car and try to get Joe. Swing around by Mercer’s and see if he can come and help us – and –.”

“Ned Hillman! What on earth have you done?”

“I’m sorry, Mom, but we’ve got to hurry. That big bull of Joe’s nearly got us – would have too, if I hadn’t learned to shoot from the hip!”

“You shot the French’s bull?”

“Well, of course. There was nothing around to climb or get away on! He was busting through the fence jest as we come up over the rise there. Soon’s he seen us, he charged. Dropped dead at my feet. It was as close a call as any I care to have! Whew! But I got work to do! I aim to offer to butcher him and buy half the meat, if I can get a little help, that is. Good job it happened with Cliff as a witness and on my own property. He’ll threaten suit, you’ll see.”

And Daddy was off to the barn to ready his butchering equipment. “This ain’t gonna be the most proper done job, but we’ll do our best,” he called over his shoulder.

Shortly after, Cliff drove up with a very irate Mr. French. Instead of waiting to address himself to Mr. Hillman, he began a string of profane abuse to a white-faced Mrs. Hillman.

Along with a lot of extra unrepeatable words, his main theme was, “I sue you for keeling my bull. He worth thousand dollah!”

Suddenly Joe became aware of the tall man with folded arms contemplating him from the doorway.

“Your business is with me, not my wife. I do not permit such profanity to be used in her presence. Step outside and we’ll conduct this business alone!” Mr. Hillman’s piercing steel gray eyes never seemed more penetrating and his voice was as cold as the color of his eyes.

“Yah sure, Meester Heelman. Sure I come!”

He obediently agreed to all the terms and sent his brother Jules to help with the butchering job.

So it was that the family enjoyed some slightly tough steaks soon thereafter.

“I’d eat this steak no matter how tough it was!” Robbie grinned. “Mostly out of spite. And after what you told Jules, Dad, I’ll bet Joe French gets his next bull dehorned!”

“Well, I hope you acted like a Christian should,” sighed Mamma. “I’m so thankful he gave in to your terms,” she went on. “There was such a chill in your voice, I was afraid you might forget –.”

“Now, Mamma. You just have to call his bluff, that’s all. I guess I was pretty sore, though. Nothing gets my Irish up more’n some coward abusin’ a woman–– ‘specially mine!” And he kissed a flustered little Mamma.

The weather had turned unseasonably warm and beautiful.

“If this weather keeps up we’ll have a whoppin’ drought for sure,” Daddy observed. “Makes a guy lazy though. We worked hard cleaning up the barns and spreading the manure out this mornin’. What d’ya say we knock off for “siesta,” boys? I feel a nap coming on,” and he yawned widely.

The dishes done presently, Mamma and Daddy resting, and Robbie hunting rabbits, the girls sauntered upstairs to their rooms. No one wanted to sleep.

They had the catalogs and for a change Clara generously invited them into her room (on the north of the house and consequently cooler). Jennie and Lori and Clara were stretched sideways across the bed enjoying the styles of Montgomery Ward and Mary Jane and Ellen were sitting on the floor with the Chicago Mail Order. Enthusiastic remarks such as, “What a cute coat!” “Oh, I like this one!” – “When I sell my steer, I’m going to –.” and so on, and so forth. Suddenly a strange sound, a snorkel perhaps it could be called, caused them all to pause.

“What’s that?” everyone asked at once.

“It’s outside the window!” and three heads peered out.

Below in the shade Daddy had placed four or five extra planks of pine. Each was about 10 inches wide. There was old Charlie stretched out in the cool shade on a wide plank, his old jacket rolled under his head for a pillow. The snorkels were snorkeling at regular intervals and Charlie was having a nap with his mouth open, and the offending pipe sliding onto his chest. It was seeing the pipe that did it perhaps, but impish thoughts began to form.

“We could just drop an old shoe down beside him and watch him jump. He deserves a good scare,” someone suggested. The girls all tittered, imagining the look on his face.

“I’ll run and get one of Cliff’s – they’re big and heavy,” Clara said.

It was a thoughtless, naughty deed, but it produced such funny results that they rolled on the floor with laughter, that is, until Daddy’s stern voice called them all down on the carpet. His mood wasn’t helped any by having had his nap disturbed. The excited, angry Charlie charged, “Your girls, dey tro shoe on my head while I sleep!”

Although one young lady vowed she was too old for a spanking, they all got one. Poor old Charlie cried throughout the ordeal: “No! No! Don’t spank them, Meester Heelman! Please don’t spank them!”

“You were all distinctly told not to harass Charlie any more! I just can’t let you keep disobeying me like this!” was the opening line to the lecture that followed.

Charlie must have felt hopelessly incompatible, because he left soon after. He was one of the few who worked and lived in the Hillman household and did not receive the Lord – at least not to all appearances.

“I don’t feel very good about the way we treated Charlie, Mamma,” Jennie said after he was gone. “I do hope we children didn’t ruin our Christian testimony completely with him.”

“Well, honey, it’s a very sobering thought. I trust not. The Lord is gracious and perhaps someday when he needs it most the Lord can bless some scriptures to his soul that he heard here. I think, however, of Ecclesiastes 10:1 which says: “Dead flies cause the ointment of the apothecary to send forth a stinking savor, so doth a little folly him that is in reputation for wisdom and honor.”

Strange Visitors: Chapter 10

“What could be keeping your Daddy and Robbie so late?” queried a worried Mamma in the deepening dusk. The kerosene lamps had long been primed wicks trimmed and chimneys sparkling. Now the glowing light shone forth in a brave effort to dispel the lowering darkness. The kitchen stove burned cozy and warm and the tea kettle sung its happy little tune. Empty buckets clattering on the back porch proclaimed that the calves had just been fed their portion of foaming skimmed milk left from the cream separation.

Mary Jane and Ellen, who had dispatched this work, entered the kitchen to wash at the little stand near the door.

“Mommy, I’m starved! If Daddy doesn’t come soon, can’t we eat anyway? Did you say he went to the school section to work?” asked Mary Jane. She was eager to get to her library book, besides being hungry.

“I just can’t imagine them being so late. No dear, we can surely wait a little longer. Is that the headlights? – Yes! Here they come! Pour the milk now, honey,” and Mamma looked relieved.

Ellen called her sisters from their homework, adding, “Jennie, we fed the calves; so you have to wash the supper dishes – you and Lori! What – why – I thought I heard a baby crying! Mary Jane come quick! Daddy has some people with him and there’s a baby!”

Sure enough! They were on the front porch – a bedraggled couple carrying a baby and an old duffel bag.

“Here we are, Slim,” Daddy was saying. “Let’s get that baby in out of the cold and have us some hot supper. Mom, I come across Slim and Pat Rogers and their baby here. I figured it was too late and cold fer ‘em to be out on the road – with the baby and all. We can put ‘em up tonight, cain’t we?”

“Oh, of course, Ned! How do you do? Come right in. Oh what a dear baby boy you have! How old is he?”

Both parents beamed. “Charlie’s his name.” Just then little eight month old Charlie coughed a dreadful cough. The ring of children on the fringes looked startled and Lori whispered, “I think he’s got pneumonia.”

Ellen ran to put more places on and before long they were seated at the table.

“Yep,” Slim was saying, “times is mighty hard these days. I been outa work since August. So I says to Pat, Let’s get on back home to Nebraska where we come from. My old uncle kin maybe use a hand.”

Pat was thin and pale and shy. Baby Charlie whimpered and grabbed at everything in sight, refusing most of the food offered to him.

Now a baby with golden ringlets all over its head, darling dimples, and blue eyes was the answer to any little girl’s dream. Mary Jane had actually day-dreamed of just such a baby being left on their doorstep. How lovely it would be to love and care for it! She was now wolfing her food down, scarcely chewing each bite twice, in order to take Charlie from his weary little mother. Permission was readily granted.

“Honey, there’s a bottle in the bag over there agin the wall. If you’ll just put some milk in it –. No, no need to warm it.”

Mary Jane warmed it and was soon off in the living room with Charlie all to herself. He was a sick baby, but surprisingly good natured in spite of it all. His little nursemaid found the diapers and changed him.

“Just as I thought! All chafed and sore! Poor little Charlie! Oh, I hope you stay with us a long time. Maybe your folks will run away in the night.... My favorite name too. But they named you for Charles Lindberg, you little darling!”

“Now, Slim – I’ll make a deal with you,” Daddy was saying. “If you’ll promise to keep that woman and baby off the highways, I’ll guarantee you a job in these parts and put you up in the meantime. You’d ought to know how treacherous the weather can be this time of year; a blizzard could blow in tomorrow. If I ain’t mistooken you’ve a sick boy there. Is that a deal?”

“Wall – I reckon yer mighty good to be so generous. I’ll work – do anything at all that is offered – in the ranching line that is.”

Pat looked relieved and the pair became almost jovial. The party removed from the dining room, and Mary Jane had to give up her charge.

“Toss ole Charlie over to me, Pat,” ordered Slim. And toss him she did. Slim was standing about five or six feet away, and he caught the baby in mid-air. The two enjoyed a game of “catch the baby.” Charlie coughed his little “bootheels” and burped up most of his bottle.

Out in the kitchen, clearing up the supper things, the girls stormed. What a way to treat a baby! They were sure he’d be dead by morning.

“Mom, girls, come on now!” Daddy called. “Slim, we generally have a little Bible reading of evenings. We’d admire to have you join us.”

Bibles were passed. Slim and Pat looked rather as if they wanted to escape but there being no avenue open, resigned themselves to listen. To all appearances, the gracious words fell on unreceptive ears and hearts. Charlie was fussy, so the reading was short.

No problem waking up next morning. As Mary Jane’s feet hit the little rug beside their bed, she swallowed hard to test for any hint of soreness in her throat – an excuse to stay home and take care of the baby. But she was hale and well.

“Ellen, wake up! I hear the baby downstairs. See ya!” and she was out the door, shoes untied and apron half buttoned.

Mamma was all pink over the stove frying sausages and eggs for thirteen hungry mouths. Charlie was being fed some warm oatmeal.

“Mamma,” whispered Mary Jane after greeting them all, “I’m ahead in my English and History lessons at school and, well, you’d need me today to help with the baby. Do you suppose I could –?”

But Mamma laughed. “Sorry, honey. Daddy has already arranged for Slim to go to the Gammon ranch by Simla. They’re all leaving just after breakfast.”

How disappointing! To all appearances the chances were slim that Slim and Pat would sneak away without their baby. All Mary Jane got out of it was a running nose and cough the next day – baby Charlie’s present to her.

To make the story even more depressing, next time Daddy went to town and inquired after their erstwhile friends, he learned that Slim had broken his promise after two days and had hit the road East.

“Not much surprised,” Daddy sniffed. “He had a shifty look in his eyes. Any man that’d take a woman and baby hitchhiking in December in this country, ain’t much of a man in my estimation. My guess is that baby won’t grow to maturity. There’s comfort in rememberin’ that the pore little thing is ‘one for whom Christ died.’ They’ll be many such lambs up there, I’m thinkin’, Mary Jane. Don’t look so sad, honey. I give ‘em a New Testament too, and there’s no telling what good may come. Can you quote Daddy a verse along that line, pet?”

“My Word shall not return unto Me void?”

“Exactly. So cheer up. We done what we could.” And Daddy drew her close for a little comforting squeeze.

It was the Hillman’s policy never to turn anyone away who seemed in need. Mrs. Hillman’s hospitality, however, was sorely strained one morning soon after. It was Saturday, and Mamma had been having a rather trying morning with two of her younger girls, Mary Jane and Ellen. It was just that absolutely everything that was said by anyone, but mostly by themselves, seemed too funny for words. It was giggle, giggle, until Mamma’s head was fairly aching. Throw in a good water fight besides and you have reason enough for the unmistakable trace of annoyance in Mamma’s voice as we hear her saying, “I declare! If you girls don’t finish in the next fifteen minutes, we won’t have clean dishes for lunch! That’s disgraceful! Now get busy!”

Suddenly the dogs began barking fiercely. Someone was approaching – a stranger. Mamma opened the back door, and a swarthy, angry looking man fairly ordered, “Call off your dogs, will you?”

Mamma did so. “Put them in the porch room, Clara.” Then rather coolly, “What is your business here?”

Hardly looking her in the face, he sullenly answered, “I’m hungry, ma’am. Could you give me a bite to eat?”

“Go sit on that box by the woodpile there, and we’ll bring you a sack lunch,” Mamma ordered, observing to herself that he kept his right hand well-hidden in his coat. He was not ragged.

“Now, girls,” she whispered. “Watch him, carefully. Someone be ready to let the dogs out if necessary. One of you, Lori, run set this lunch I’m making on the stump there in front of him and I’ll stand on the porch to watch.”

Within minutes these orders were carried out. The man continued to hide his right hand and did not have the civility to say “thank you” for the lunch which he picked up with his other hand.

“Now be on your way, please!” Mamma said firmly, but not unkindly. Turning to the girls who were watching from the window, she later observed: “I put some good gospel tracts in the lunch bag. We must pray for blessing, girls. Keep watching him, though.”

“He’s stopping at the windmill and pond,” sang out Jennie. “He’s – yes – he’s washing his right hand under the water running out of the pipe. I can’t see, but it’s probably wounded. Now he’s sitting down to eat. No, he isn’t using his right hand.”

This running news account was hardly necessary, as everyone was gathered at the window. When Mamma saw that he sat down to eat, she retired to the kitchen to continue lunch preparation.

Mary Jane’s curiosity was getting out of hand. She sneaked back to the kitchen, finished putting the dishes away quickly, and slipped out the back. She intended to skirt northward out of vision from the window, slip over to the gulch and then scout on the stranger from there. The gulch followed over quite close to the pond area. She was just shutting the door as quietly as possible, when a hand reached out from the porch room.

“Gotcha!” a voice said.

Mary Jane’s shattered nerves sent her a foot off the floor.

The voice laughed heartily. It was Clara.

“Now, missey, where might you be pussyfooting to in this secret, sneaky way?”

Mary Jane tried to look innocent. “Just to the barn, and look at the new kittens. Maybe their eyes are open.”

“C’mon and fess up! You listen here! Just leave the detectin’ to old Sherlock. You can’t fool me; I know you was headin’ out fer the crick!”

“Well, why don’t you come with me, if you’re so big and smart.”

“I reckon I’m smart enough to stay right here. Furthermore, I’m here to say you’re not going out of this house. I may not be as good at books as you, but my good old common sense sez we should stay plumb away from that bum out there! Course if you want to get shot ‘er somethin’ ‒.”

“Well, all right. Nobody has any spirit around here.”

“Yeah? You get too spirited, and you’ll get spirited right out of your skin.”

“There he goes, up the hill to the old Zike house!” rang out from the looking post.

It was now too late anyway to spy on the stranger, so Mary Jane slipped back in the house, hoping Clara would keep quiet. And Clara did.

Distinguished Visitors: Chapter 11

“Here, Mom,” winked Daddy. “You’ll want to drop everything and call in the clan. It’s a fat letter from Marguerite! I hate to think of her up there in the city bein’ a maid fer them fussy rich folks. We sent her to that business school fer nothing, I guess. They lay it onto the bad times ‘cause they cain’t place her in a job. Sometimes I wonder –,” and Daddy sighed.

“Well, Ned,” Mother observed as she carefully opened the envelope. “What does it really matter, when she expects to get married next September? Come, girls,” she called. “A letter from Marguerite!”

With the children gathered around, Mother read: “Dearest family, Words cannot express how I long to see you all! I guess I just have a bad case of homesickness. It wouldn’t be so bad here if it weren’t for Mr. Eaton. I hate to complain, but he is too much! Last night he bawled me out because one shade was pulled down a little crooked and he went through all twenty-four rooms to see if the others were straight. And when he throws a party, and gets too many cocktails –! I just can’t be thankful enough to have been delivered from ‘this present evil world’. How good to be a real believer in Christ! Mr. Eaton is so mean to his wife and children when no one is around! Then when they have guests, he tries to present the image of the dear, old loving Dad. The poor children, Arlin and Charles, (Tee and Tod as they call them) just tremble when they have to sit on his lap.

“The butler-chauffeur is a big, tall black man. Believe me, you’ve got to make sure you don’t meet him in a dark hallway. I sure slapped his face the other day!
“Oh, well! I shouldn’t worry you with all my troubles. And it won’t be for long.
“There is some real news, though. Sit down and hold onto your chair when you read this. Mrs. Eaton, as you know, is as fine as he is awful. She can see I’m homesick and tries to comfort me. Last night Mr. E. announced that he would be gone for four days on business.
“As soon as she could, Mrs. Eaton came around and asked if I’d like to go home for a visit. I nearly cried I was so happy at the thought. But here’s the super exciting part! She wants to drive me down herself and bring Tee and Tod along! I think a peep at ranch life will do us all good.
“‘Now there is one thing you must promise, dahlin; tell your family we want life to go on as usual with no extra fuss!’ she said.
“You’ll like her, Daddy and Mamma, especially as she is from the deep South and really the sweetest thing! You can expect us sometime around 4 or 5 o’clock on this Friday afternoon, the 10th. I know it’s Mary Jane’s birthday on Saturday. I’ll bring your gift, honey, but I didn’t want to seem to fish for a present from the Eatons, so I didn’t tell them about the birthday. Don’t work too hard, now.”

A letter from my darling says – etc., etc.”, and Mamma read on to the end, but her hand trembled a little.

“Oh Ned! How can we entertain a socialite like her!” Mamma began to be a little pink in spots.

“Treat her like she was a – well, what she is, a real human being. I don’t mind her and the tots coming. Just as long as her husband doesn’t decide to come along. I’d like to have a word with that butler too! Boy, wouldn’t I make his ears burn – ‘er box ‘em! We ought to send ‘em back without her.”

While Mamma and Daddy were talking, the girls had nearly “flipped” from excitement.

Lori was looking around the kitchen. “Mamma, Oh, I wish there was time to calcimine the walls, and these windows! How can we ever get cleaned up in time?”

“Mary Jane, come back here! I’m hiding your library book. You’ve got to help, too!” Jennie dived for Mary Jane.

“Well, girls, have fun.” Daddy laughed. I reckon there’s no use in me remindin’ you of what the lady said, ‘No fuss’ and all that. Women folks was born fussin’, I declare!” Daddy left for the barn.

The women folk “fussed” and scrubbed and polished for the next day and a half until hands were rough and red and backs ached. As Daddy left to go out cultivating after lunch, Mother pleaded, “Ned? Please come in earlier today in time to shave and clean up before they come? And we don’t want supper so late; I’m sure they are used to eating around 6 or 7. Last night we didn’t sit down until 8 o’clock. Please?”

“Well, Mom, as fer as possible, I aim to. Ain’t no tellin’, though, how things’ll shape up. All bein’ well, I’ll be in by four sharp.”

She wished he’d promised three, but sighed to herself and conceded that would be asking too much of a busy farmer in August.

Things began to go wrong from the start. In the first place, Lori had the scalloped potato casserole too full, and it ran over in the oven, filling the house with a burned potato odor. The cherry pies were a little too brown, and the oven was a little hot for the ham. Only Mother’s bread that morning had turned out perfectly as usual. Adding to the confusion, Clara’s beads – a very long strand – had broken and rolled all over the upstairs area by the stairway. There was a hallway and a large game room up there. What a job cleaning them up!

Mrs. Eaton and Tee (Arlin), Tod (Charles) and Marguerite arrived at a good early 3 o’clock. “Her ladyship” was a magnificent mixer. Her relaxed, friendly, easy way just left no room for uneasiness and inferior feelings in her presence. Not only was she a handsome woman, but her charming southern drawl enhanced her already attractive person so much that everyone found her irresistible.

Mamma kept casting anxious glances toward the field where Daddy seemed to be stopped in a huddle of some sort. At five o’clock he came in the back door. He raised his hand.

“Now, Mom, it weren’t my fault that that cheap weldin’ job give out on the cultivator. I’ll hurry up now. Is the company all out in the barnyard?”

“Oh, I guess,” Mamma sighed. “Your things are ready in the bedroom, except – Oh dear – I forgot to run upstairs and get your suit! I keep it in Marguerite’s old room where the company is to sleep. I’m sure they’re outside. I’m so busy – maybe you could slip up and get it? Hurry now.”

Daddy bounded upstairs muttering about “women – puttin’ on dog-foolishness, and so forth.” The room he was to enter was at the head of the stair. Having been assured it was empty of occupants, he boldly opened the door, just as his heel caught one of Clara’s left-behind beads. Although he was still hanging to the door knob, his legs coasted out from under him, and he landed stretched out at the foot of the bed. A very startled lady sat up to confront the master of the house whom she had not met.

“Well, I’ll be hornswoggled!” Daddy gasped. “Mom said you – I had to get my suit – Well, I beg yer humble pardon!”

“Oh, Mistah Hillman?” She graciously smiled and offered her hand. “Are you – you – injured?”

“No, Ma’am. I don’t reckon there’s any way to rightly excuse me for barging in this way – except jest tellin’ the truth. Fer reasons I’ll never know, Mom, she keeps my Sunday suit up here, and she plumb fergot to get it fer me. We thought you was out – so, I’m right sorry –!” Poor Daddy! It was so embarrassing!

All sorts of sparkles twinkled from the lady’s eyes, but she did not throw back her head and laugh.

“I’m sorry to have been the cause of any inconvenience. After all, we are the intruders here, and as long as you are sure you are in one piece, we’ll forget it ever happened.” She smiled so disarmingly that the tension was fast going out the windows.

“Yes, yes, I’m not hurt – jest m’ pride and now that it’s been tooken from me I’ll jest leave you to yer restin” – and he turned, eager to be gone.

“Oh but wait, the suit, suh,” and she hopped up to fetch it. “I saw it there as I hung my things.”

Back down in the safety of his own room, he glanced in the mirror to discover with further dismay that he was minus his shirt – the top of his union suit being all his upper half was clothed in. By the time he was lathered to shave, he was able to chuckle to Mamma as she hurried in quickly, “Mom, just chuck all the fussin’ and puttin’ on all this dog. I done ruin’t it by falling right smack at her feet as she lay up there on the bed restin’. She took it fine, though. Now don’t look so ruffled! And, by the way, may I just ask – why cain’t my own clothes be kept in my own clothes closet?”

“Let me recover first – Oh, Ned! What next!” “My question?”

“Well, we have to put the dirty clothes bag somewhere! It’s so big. And you made the closets so small. If you’ll remember, I pleaded for larger closets, but –.” Mamma was getting warmed up, as she seldom became.

“Too-shay! Too-shay!” And Daddy dodged. It was time to change the subject for sure. “Now now, Mamma! Say, ain’t that a new dress yer lookin’ s’pretty in?”

Mary Jane and Ellen were having their own problems in entertaining “Tee”. She was enjoying the novelty of this simple farm life, but obviously her interest was shallow and fleeting.

“I should think you would become quite bored living away out here. It’s bad enough in the city! I’m saving my allowances; and next summer Mother, Tod and I expect to go to Paris.” She fluffed her pretty brown hair and tilted her chin a trifle. “Someday, I hope to attend a private school there too – at least Daddy wants me to. In the meantime, we have a French tutor. Mother wishes Marguerite would put off her marriage and go too. But she won’t hear of it. I expect we’ll get a chic French maid – it really would be better, anyway. Do you know any French?”

“No, but we have some neighbors named French, but they aren’t very nice except Mrs. French,” Mary Jane answered, somewhat awed. Usually she could think of something to suit, at least approaching in sensationalism, but this was too much for her.

“Oh what an odd machine! Whatever could it be?” Tee’s attention was attracted to the large “bull” tractor parked between the house and the barn. Tod was momentarily charmed with it too and was perched up in its seat, roaring away at a great rate. Suddenly, he jumped down and yelled.

“Where’s your horse? I want to ride!”

“She’s in the barn, but Daddy said –.” Robbie began.

“Oh, bosh! All you ever seem to say is tut Daddy said,’ and he usually said not to! I don’t pay any attention to my Daddy – unless I have to. When he’s dr–.” But Tee gave him a sound kick in the the shins.

“Let’s go watch all those funny cows in the barnyard! Let’s climb on top of that old shed, should we?” The children ran to comply with this request.

Tee had to have an old box to climb on and picked up a long stick to help herself scramble up on the shed. It was a long, narrow structure stretching along the northern boundary of the barnyard, designed to break the cold north wind, and, being open on the south side, to afford a shelter for the livestock.

“Ugh! How it smells here! I hate milk, and now I’ll hate it even more! Oh, is that big one the bull? Look at him tossing his head at us! Ha! Ha! Can’t get us up here, can you – you old bum! What’s his name?”

“Bimbo. He’s been kind of cranky lately. Watch out for him.” Robbie warned.

“Pooh! I’m not afraid of him!” Tod boasted. “Let me have that stick, Tee!” Grabbing the stick, he ran to the edge of the corrugated iron roof and gave his broad rump a jab. “How about a bull fight, you old Bimbo!”

Bimbo snorted, but turned away patiently. He kept an eye warily on the children.

“Daddy said never to tease the bull!” Robbie warned.

“Coward!” Tod yelled. But he lay the stick on the shed roof. Presently Tee saw her chance and made a pass at the bull’s head. She grazed his ear, and the stick fell to the ground. The naughty little girl almost fell with it. She lost her balance and had it not been for Ellen and Robbie’s quick aid, she would have landed almost in front of the now annoyed Bimbo. Tee’s back was scratched and bleeding from being pulled over the rough edge of the shed roof. She was badly shaken. When Bimbo began to paw the ground and bellow she paled.

Clara, who was inside the barn, ran to look.

“Get down from there right now, and don’t dare come into the corral! Robbie! You know better than to tease Bimbo!”

“See!” Robbie said. “I told you Daddy said not to tease the bull! Daddy always says things for a good reason!”

Tod was still full of bravado. “Daddy said, Daddy said, Daddy said,” he chanted. “I hate my Daddy!”

“Me too!” Tee added coldly. “I expect Mamma will divorce him. Most of our friends have divorces. It’s almost fashionable, you know. Why in Paris –.”

“Robbie, Mary Jane, Ellen!” called Jennie. “Come, and we’ll show the children how to milk! But come to the west door of the barn. Bimbo is all upset.”

The cows were in their stanchions munching the fragrant alfalfa in the boxes before them. Arlin looked a bit fearful, but was attempting to regain her confidence.

Lori was seated on the stool beside her favorite cow, and smiling up at Tee, asked, “Want to try it?”

“Well, of course.” She perched herself on the stool with the bucket on the ground under the cow’s udder. Then she grabbed poor Nancy’s tail and gave it a firm yank.

Wham! The bucket went flying and so did Tee over backwards, narrowly missing the feet of the cow next door.

“I hate this old barn! Isn’t there something fun we can do?” she wailed, almost ready to cry.

Mary Jane caught Clara’s eyes. They were dancing with mirth, but she caught the words “the paper dolls?” framed on her sister’s lips.

“O.K.,” she nodded good naturedly, but added, “Now come here, Tee. Before you go, see how it’s done. You squeeze and pull sorta at the same time on these teats and the milk comes out – not by pulling the tail. The tail is to switch the flies away.”

“Flies; ugh! Yes; I see, but come on, Mary Jane, let’s go to the house.”

The paper dolls were an immediate success. Hand-drawn and painted with stacks of lovely colorful dresses, coats and hats! None of the shops in the city had anything to compare. From that time forward, Tee was entertained. The children even tried painting some of their own. Mary Jane was doing very well by now. She really began to enjoy her little guest and felt somewhat co-equal. And although most of their play centered in and around Paris, it was all great fun.

The supper went quite well. Mrs. Eaton ate heartily, especially the homemade bread and butter. Leaning back in her chair with a piece in her hand she smiled her charmng smile at Daddy.

“Mistah Hillman, you live like kings and lords!” And then, “I understand that as a young man, you were a cowboy in Texas and New Mexico. Tee and Tod would adore a story from the old West!”

Daddy was pleased and flattered. Story-telling was right “down his alley,” especially of the good old days of his youth on the ranges.

“Well, now,” said he winking at Tod, “how would a real true-to-life, honest-to-goodness Indian story do?” “Great!” both children agreed at once.

“I begun my cow punching career a bit early, I guess. Fifteen years old to be exact when I left my home in Correyell County, Texas. I’d had a time gettin’ used to my stepmother – she offended us boys. Well, to make a long story short, I left and went out lookin’ fer a job on a ranch. Course, I was a big, strappin’ youth and made like I was grownup, although I was green in many respects.
“Well, I got a job on the Circle H Ranch – a big spread hirin’, oh twenty boys er so. The foreman probably thought I was too young fer the job – least-ways the boss hired me – and this foreman he didn’t seem to take too kindly to me being there. There was a bad spirit amongst the men there, and later on it broke out in some gun fire. But that’s another story. Well, anyways, the first mornin’ I reported in, he says: “ ‘Ned, boy, that young sorral in the small corral over there. I want you to break her in fer yer mount.’
“Well, I’d broke horses before, a course. In fact, the first horse I ever owned, I had to break her in order to get her from our first and only school teacher down home. So I says ‘O.K., that’s fine with me.’ I went and picked me a bridle when along comes this Indian – worked there on the Circle H.
“ ‘Ned,’ he says, quiet like, ‘Ned; you no ridum horse out there. Him outlaw. Him kill boy. Me ridum. You watch.’
“‘Naw,’ says I. ‘I’ve rode colts and broke ‘em before.’
“‘Ned, you listen Indian. Me know.’ Them black eyes of his was in dead earnest. Something told me – here’s a real friend. So I give in.
“I’m here to tell you, I’ve never seen before nor since a meaner outlaw than that there horse. But that Indian give ‘em what fer. He had tricks in his bag I didn’t know nothin’ about, and afore many days we had him eatin’ out of our hands, as it were. I was able to ride him and do my work there, but he never measured up to my later horse which I owned and kept fer a good many years as a cow puncher. Well, as time went on, my brother, Bud, came to work there too. We’d gone to town one Saturday, the two of us; and come 9 o’clock or so, we was ridin’ home by moonlight. We had to go through a narrow canyon. The trail and the Pancho River was all there was room fer. We was about half through, and the moon was shinin’ down so bright and pretty, when off up ahead we heard ‘em comin’!”

“‘What?’ queried Tod, by now spellbound.

“A band of drunk Indians! Now they’s nothin’ worse than a drunk Indian. All that hate fer the white man comes out triple force under the influence of that old “fire water.” Daddy’s face shadowed. “It’s ruint many a good Injun – or many a good white man, too, fer that matter. It’s one of the worst curses the devil ever thunk up to ruin mankind with!”

“Indeed, its ravages reach into the upper echelons of society,” Mrs. Eaton added quietly.

Mamma had been as usual very quiet. She, however, added with heated fervor, “Oh, what ruin it can bring!” We all knew of Mamma’s scarred childhood.

Mrs. Eaton turned, a little surprised. She studied the face of the humble little lady across the table. “Surely,” she thought, “No, I’m sure this is a household free from such a curse. But that little woman has had a sorrow too. It shows. But no bitterness. Not a trace.” She began to feel a kinship, a desire to know something of the soul of this gentle, patient woman. “What is her secret? Life here must surely be hard. How does she cope? What are her answers to life’s problems?” Then she sighed. “We are miles apart, and I have so little time. If only I could –.”

But Tod was recalling them to the story.

“Come on! What happened next?” he put in.

“Well, there was a showdown comin’, no two ways about it. The Indians was ‘ki-yi-in’ in their own lingo, workin theirselves into a great lather. Bud and I had pulled our pistols out handy. We became aware of one of their number yellin’ louder than the others. He was hoppin’ mad too, and was laying ‘em back single file agin the canyon wall. I couldn’t begin to say what he was tellin”em. We seen he was bein’ a friend to us. Then lo and behold! Up comes this Injun and reached out an old dirty paw. ‘How! Me friend. How, Ned?’

“It was my old friend! Never was so glad to see a man in my whole life! We wasn’t hanging around there fer long, though, believe me. We rode past them Injuns and if looks could kill, we was tommyhawked and scalped about fifteen times over – ‘cause they was about fifteen of ‘em. Soon after that, we left the Circle H as fightin’ broke out one night in the bunk house. Bud and I didn’t want no part in it – not hankerin’ to be fishin’ lead outa our hides. The bullets was whizzin’ around one night there purty hot.”

“Was the Indian’s name Tonto? Did you name your horse ‘Silver’?” asked Arlin, smiling.

“No, honey, I’m sorry, but I wasn’t a gallopin’ around yellin’ “Hi, he, Silver!’ Ther’ was very little glamor – mostly hard work and hardships. Sin and greed and gun slingin’ – same as today, I reckon only a little more short on law enforcement. My Injun friend was just ‘Shorty’ to us boys, though I guess he did say he was ‘Silver Eagle,’ er some such name. The horse I called ‘Snake Eye,’ cause you couldn’t trust him. He always had an eye peeled fer a chance to take advantage of a feller. By the time I left there, I’d earned enough to buy myself a horse – purtiest little buckskin y’ever saw. Now there was a horse!”

About this time Arlin yawned.

Mrs. Eaton looked at her diamond-studded wrist watch and exclaimed, “Can it really be nine o’clock? To bed, my dahlins!”

So the party broke up. Daddy and Mamma and Mrs. Eaton chatted while the girls clattered through the dishes.

Settled in bed that night Mr. Hillman observed to his wife. “Y’ know, Eva. It’s curious, and a shame too. Why is it so hard to be a witness for the Lord to someone like her? The old flesh jest seems to want to impress the one with the riches. We haven’t rightly give her the gospel and I reckon she needs it as much as the poor man on the street. The scripture says ‘the poor have the gospel preached unto them.’ Fer one thing, it jest seems easier to preach it to the poor. God helpin’ us, we’d ought to be more faithful to that woman.”

“You’re right, Ned. I have a feeling she has an aching heart and needs the Saviour.”

Crisis Upon Crisis: Chapter 12

The door to Mary Jane and Ellen’s room opened ever so softly and in the dawning light a scarcely discernible figure moved to the bedside. The figure bent over Mary Jane and began to sing “Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you!”

The sweet strains intruded happily on a horrible jumble of mixed-up nocturnal impressions. Things weren’t going so well in her dreams, it seemed, and the scrambled condition of the bed clothes with the covers half on the floor was proof of some nighttime conflicts.

At last Mary Jane began to realize that this was “for real.” Marguerite had slipped in to awaken her with the present she had promised.

“Oh, you precious old dear! It’s – oh, I just love you!” and she gave her eldest sister such a bear hug that her elbow boxed poor Ellen’s ears.

“What – why –! Hey, cut it out, Mary Jane!” Ellen turned over crossly until she too began to awaken more completely.

Marguerite had placed a large box in her little sister’s hand. “Hurry and open it! I want to see if it fits. If it does, you can wear it today!” Marguerite was a little ashamed of Mary Jane’s “hand-me-down” hodge podge wardrobe in comparison to Arlin’s just-so clothes.

“Oh, goody!” and no time was lost in modeling the sweet little red print. Ellen looked on happily. She never seemed to be anything but large-hearted and generous when it came to Mary Jane’s happiness or good fortune. There weren’t many “selfish bones” in her.

What a beautiful beginning to her birthday! In anybody’s book breakfast was special at the Hillman’s, always including delightful southern biscuits, butter and honey. Besides, there was hot oatmeal, stewed apricots, home-cured sausages and superb fresh fried eggs with plenty of savory coffee. Ellen spilled the beans accidentally about the birthday, and a quick trip upstairs produced a box of candy and two crisp dollar bills for Mary Jane from Mrs. Eaton.

The day’s prospects were rosy indeed with Mamma’s fried chicken for dinner and a huge watermelon that was cooling down in the well. There were two wells in the yard – one dark and dangerous where black looking water could be seen far below. This was used only for cooling the butter and things that could be let far down attached to a rope. The sides had caved in and it was no longer useable. The other well was more modern, having a shaft only about ten feet deep, with the rest of the well beneath a floor in a hole only large enough for the pumping mechanism. This well was used to cool larger things such as – well, watermelons. Today’s huge baby had been placed there on Friday before the company came.

As dinner time neared, Daddy was sent out to get the watermelon. Tee, Mary Jane and Ellen were near enough to hear the request, and Tee beamed, “Oh, show me your watermelon patch!”

“We don’t have one. I tried it once and my watermelon only got – so big,” and Ellen indicated a six-inch length.

“Daddy’s getting it from the well. Want to watch?” Mary Jane queried.

“A watermelon in a well! How curious! Let’s!”

So the girls scampered after Mr. Hillman.

“Yep,” Daddy observed cheerfully, “The ice man don’t include us in his itiner-ary, it seems, so we jest cool our melons this-a-way. When I was a boy in Texas, we’d jest go out to the patch, pick out a big ‘un, and cut the heart out. Shucks, we never bothered with all them seeds. Talk about sweet! There just ain’t nothin’ to compare with them good ole Texas melons. I’m thinkin’ this here baby come from Arizony.”

As he talked, Daddy had lifted the boards from the top and had begun to hoist. A sickening thud and wet spatter caused the girls to jump. Oh, the tragedy of it! The dinner dessert – the substitute for birthday cake – lay shattered in a thousand pieces down the well.

Daddy sat on the ground and scratched his head as three pairs of eyes were trained on him.

Arlin laughed. “Don’t look so tragic! What’s so special about one little old watermelon? We’ve had a dozen this summer.”

“I don’t rightly know how to tell Mamma. She might be a wee bit upset.” Daddy smiled wryly. “I reckon I’d ought to see if they’s any room in the dog house first, eh, Mary Jane?”

“There was no rider on the horse or wagon”

But Mary Jane wasn’t listening. Her face was transfixed, unmistakable terror written there. Daddy’s head whirled in the direction of her gaze. Macey was galloping wildly toward the house; the children’s red wagon attached to a long rope which was tied to the saddle horn careened and crashed along behind her. There was no rider on horse or wagon. A boy, however, was to be seen a few yards behind sprawled upon the ground. The frightened horse rammed into the fence.

“Hold her, girls!” Daddy whispered to Mary Jane. “Pray fer the lad yonder!” It was Tod. He had apparently been in the wagon – at one time, that is. Robbie was running from the barn to his friend’s side. By now Tod was attempting to sit up.

“Careful now, boy.” Daddy warned. “Anything hurtin’ bad?”

“Naw,” Tod answered ruefully. “My knee but but – oh, – –! What made her do that?”

“Daddy, I knew she’d get scared of the wagon, but Tod had to have his way!” Robbie was indignant. “He’s so bull-headed, you can’t tell him nothin’!”

“Now, Robbie, hold yer lip. Tod here hasn’t been around livestock like you have. Just remember that. Now, Tod, jest you remember, they’s nothin’ a horse likes better than an excuse to run away. They can get so sceered and work up such a lather over a little noise that they cain’t be held no how.”

“I couldn’t get in the saddle even, Daddy. Macey heard just one little rattle and took off like greased lightning!”

“Lucky you wasn’t part-way in the saddle. Many a man’s been drug to death in jest such a situation. There, that’s it, Rob. Uhtie the wagon and carry it quiet-like away. I’ll tie Macey to this here post and we’ll take care of that knee. I expect Mom’s waitin’ dinner, too. Yep! The Lord took care of you both. We could have had a mighty sad ending to this day’s doin’s. As ‘tis – ain’t too serious, as fer as I can tell. But I’m beginnin’ to wonder, what next?”

The gracious lady that she was, Mrs. Eaton declared that Mamma’s bread and butter and chokecherry jam was more than cake, ice cream or watermelon. And she told her little son that he had learned a valuable lesson that he could perhaps remember longer than was his usual custom. She was kind, but not one to pamper.

Macey having been placed “out of bounds,” and the knee being a bit stiff, Daddy took the boys rabbit hunting in the car. As Arlin continued her interest in Clara’s paper dolls, entertainment was simple for her.

“Mother, please, won’t you have Clara paint me a set?” she begged.

“A marvelous idea, dahling! Name your price, dear, and how would a dollar per gown be? And Tee,” she added, “Mother’s just getting a superb idea! When Marguerite marries and leaves us – you don’t suppose – Clara? It’s a thought, dear, a very nice thought!”

As Daddy down in the well filled the bucket with watermelon slush to be hoisted by Clara and Jennie, he grumbled: “It beats me how you gals and Mom have to spruce up and put on the show jest ‘cause some rich woman comes to call. Now they’s plain folk, really – jest as soon eat Mom’s bread and butter.... If we’d jest quit all this fussin’ ‒.”

“Is that why you made Robbie wash the car late Thursday night when it would mostly just sit in the garage?” Clara offered cautiously.

“Too-shay, too-shay! But aren’t you a mite sassy there, girl? Here, hoist up this mess and let’s be done with it!”

Mr. Hillman was really feeling quite frustrated about their testimony. He had tried to have a Bible reading that morning, and began the story of Goliath and David, meaning to bring in the One whom David typified. But the phone had rung and Joe Mercer had come to borrow a tool. Of course, there were the blessings at the table, but he’d hoped to present more of the good tidings. “Sure beats all how the Devil gets in there a hinderin’,” he observed to his wife.

So it was that after a simple supper, he read a little from John’s gospel. The children were restless, but Mrs. Eaton listened thoughtfully.

“I’m afraid the youngsters aren’t used to this sort of thing, Mistah Hillman. But it’s what we need more of, I’m sure. It’s people like you that have made our country what it is.”

“Well, now – if ‘twas up to people we’d be in a turrible mess.” Then he read God’s appraisal of man’s heart, the same in all – “deceitful above all things and desperately wicked.”

“What’s needed most is to take the low, humble place before God, acknowledging what He says about us is true – and then accept His way out.” Daddy read a number of good solid foundation verses: “All have sinned” (Romans 3:23).

“The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin” (1 John 1:7).

“God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16).

“Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out” (John 6:37).

“Seek ye the Lord while He may be found, call ye upon Him while He is near” (Isa. 55:6).

“Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved” (Acts 16:31).

Glancing in the direction of Tee and Tod, he felt he had said enough.

“How about a little hymn sing folks! You young’uns don’t have to join if yer feeling too hemmed in. Lori, get over there on that organ stool! I’ll hold the lamp here so’s you can see. How about number 383?”

Lori had learned a little music, but mostly played by ear. She could make heavenly music roll out of the little pump organ like no one else in the family. As the sweet strains of “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” began to fill the room, the children ran out to play hide and seek; Mrs. Eaton moved to the davenport. Leaning back, she closed her eyes. Daddy loved to sing tenor although he did occasionally try bass. Lori could sing alto and the rest carried the melody. It was a picture – in the dim kerosene lamp light with its play of shadows around the room. It is doubtful if Daddy could have kept his feet still if he had tried. As it was, his foot kept the beat all through. How he loved this time of singing! They did “Standing on the Promises,” and “Peace, Peace, Sweet Peace.” He could never sing it without first telling us of his mother whom he lost as a lad of thirteen years. This song she had asked to be sung at her funeral.

“And that is such a comfort – knowing she loved the Savior and had that sweet peace – ‘that wonderful gift from above.’ And there’s just no other possible way you can have it in this sad old world!” he added.

Mrs. Eaton sighed and smiled–. “Ah yes, very uplifting! I’ve not heard these songs since grandmother used to take me to her church as a child.”

They left early next morning. She squeezed Mamma and Daddy’s hand as she rendered her thanks, adding, “You’ve been a help and a cheer to me – more than I can say.” Pressing a five dollar bill in Robbie’s hand she whispered, “For the wagon Tod ruined.” And to Clara she had a special smile, “Remember, my deah, we would welcome you to our household with open arms should you ever feel you’d like a job in the city.”

They were gone in a flurry of dust. Daddy turned, remarking sadly, “A fine lady to be sure, ‘but how hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom,’ the Lord said. I reckon we sowed some seeds, and we trust they won’t be snatched away. I feel better about Marguerite being under her roof now.”

Robbie and Mary Jane felt they had come out ahead in spite of the strain they had experienced. And Clara, she was dollars ahead with a market for her painting. Besides, her eyes were seen to sparkle with a new light occasionally as she milked the cows or did some other chores that she disliked. It was fun at least to “toy” with the idea of taking a job in the city.

Deeper Plowings: Chapter 13

Winter at last set in with frigid winds, but only moderate snow. Daddy watched anxiously for heavier moisture to soak deep in the soil when spring came. There were long winter evenings around the stoves when work was at a minimum.

Mary Jane had long ago met the requirements in her classes for reading and history and was absorbing everything she could get her hands on. Everything, that is, except books that might build her up in the Lord. Being so occupied with her own feelings of love or joy in the Lord, she was naturally often discouraged. For feelings are like a ye-ye. Good solid truth was often put before her in the family readings and in the assembly of believers where they attended; but the good words were lost. Her pre-conceived idea of how she ought to feel was more her concern than just what the Lord said in His Word.

When discouragement and doubt took hold of her, Mary Jane made the grave mistake of seeking to bury her feelings in some novel checked out of the school library. The effect of these books upon her was profound. She lived the exciting story to the hilt – as if it were her own. So vivid was her imagination that after the book was finished, the effect would linger for days, filling her with discontent and emptiness. Only by beginning another story could she erase the mood. Or perhaps she would put herself into some wild dream patterned after the story. Too often Mamma could be heard saying, “Mary Jane! I’ve called you several times! Now, please come set the table!” or, “Won’t you finish your ironing now? I want to put the board away, and everyone else is finished except you.”

Clara was not so long-suffering. “Give me that old book!” and a scuffle would follow. “I’ll hide it if I get my hands on it! I’m tired of hearing poor Mamma pleading with you to do your work!”

One stormy Lord’s Day afternoon, Jennie observed a disconsolate Mary Jane. For she had finished her latest book and had none other. A bad case of the blues had set in. To make matters worse, she had been watching her two sisters. Jennie was reading Pilgrim Portions for the Day of Rest. At times her face was a study in deep inward peace as some particular article was made good to her soul. Lori was reveling in the organ, singing the hymns with apparent joy as she played.

“What is wrong with me?” she wondered dismally.

It was then that Jennie’s glance fell upon her. “Why, Mary Jane, little sister! You look so sad! Come here and let me read you something to cheer you up.”

Little sister came, hardly able to smile or swallow the lump in her throat, but comforted a little at the prospect.

“What have you been reading here?” Jennie asked compassionately, picking up the book still in her hand. “Oh, honey, really –. This isn’t in your library section, is it? I remember when I had to read it for Lit. It’s –; well, I was sorry I had to waste the time on it.” Jennie’s eyes were searching her sister’s face. “Does Mamma know what you read?”

Mary Jane’s eyes dropped. “I just tell her I’m reading something for school. Anyway, I like to read, and nothing ever happens around here!”

“May I tell you something – that –”, and Jennie was searching for right words, “that I learned myself the hard way?”

Mary Jane nodded, not exactly sure she wanted to hear what her sister had to say.

“First, dear,” Jennie was saying, “answer me honestly now, Are you happy?”

“Well, I ought to be happier. You know, Jennie, that really worries me! I’m not like you and Lori and Marguerite and Mamma. You all seem like the people in the tracts – all shiny-faced and joyous, I wonder–.”

“You know you have an old nature and a new nature, don’t you?” asked Jennie.

“Yes, but – I don’t understand too much –.”

“Well, now, Mary Jane, God gave you a new nature when you were born again. He says so. The question is, What are you to do about the old nature? It isn’t changed at all. Here is a little comparison. Suppose I have a cage, and on one side I have a compartment for an ugly, old vulture; on the, other side one for a pretty white dove. If I only feed the dove once in a while, but favor the vulture with juicy, regular meals, what will happen?”

“Well the vulture will get fat but the poor dove wouldn’t do so well, maybe he’d get sick, I guess.”

“Now, tell me, honey, which nature do you think you feed when you read novels like this so much? Wait a minute – ask yourself – do they produce the fruits of the Spirit – love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance named in Galatians 5:22-23? Or is it something else?”

“NO, they don’t, I mean, they just make me – Oh! I suppose it’s the old nature they feed. But I’m so mixed up! When I read my Bible, it just makes me feel happy once in a while. I’m just a mess! Not like you and –.”

“It makes you feel happy maybe,” Jennie interrupted, “when you listen to what it says, and forget to look into your own little heart to see how you are feeling. Is that it?”

“I don’t know,” Mary Jane said miserably. “I heard Daddy talking at the Bible reading over at Schneider’s about the ‘unpardonable sin.’ It made me so scared! Sometimes I wonder if –.”

“You’re worrying about that? The unpardonable sin was committed by those Jews who said the Lord did His miracles by the power of Satan. Then now, as I understand it, one who totally rejects the testimony of the Spirit of God concerning His Son Jesus Christ – of course, has certain judgment ahead. Take my advice now, darling, and just go tell the Lord you’re cold in your soul and that you want Him to help you as you read His Word to understand and learn more of Him. Ask Him to help you to stop looking in at yourself. God sees you perfect in Christ Jesus. He is our righteousness before God. When you’ve failed, just tell Him, and ‘He is faithful and just to forgive....’ Remember too, honey, He isn’t disappointed at all when old Mary Jane fails. The old flesh is absolutely no good, and He knows that. It couldn’t do anything but fail. Get that, once and for all. God sees you clean and pure in Christ. Now this is what I learned from hard experience. You cannot be happy in Christ and feed on books like this. Your new nature is starved and the Holy Spirit in you is grieved. Now I know you have to read some in school. But don’t fill yourself with them. Satan is using this with you (as he did with me) to keep you miserable. It’s all he can do to those who are saved; but he’ll do it so you won’t be any testimony.”

Jennie made it sound so simple. But Mary Jane thought to herself, “She can’t imagine all the mixed-up thoughts I have. How can I be sure I have really believed with my heart and not my head, and how can I know for certain that I’m one who was predestinated?”

“Thanks, Jennie,” she said. “I guess I’ll go up to my room.”

She trudged upstairs. Kneeling beside her bed, she poured out all her old thoughts and her fervent desire for settled peace. She also asked the Lord to help her to stop reading the books. She knew a struggle lay ahead. Exhausted, she lay down. A gust of wind whipped around the eaves with a dismal moan and the attic access door in her closet buzzed eerily. Mary Jane groaned and picked up her Bible. A. little piece of paper fluttered out from somewhere. How it got there, she had no recollection. It was the lower portion of a calendar sheet. Picking it up she read, “I will visit you and perform my good word toward you,... For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil to give you an expected end” (Jer. 29:10-11).

“Lord! to think of Thee caring enough about me to give me such words – right from heaven!” Mary Jane cried out. “Oh, I thank Thee! I thank Thee!”

The remaining winter months were still a struggle. Loneliness and boredom were lurking enemies. The family was not too often able to get the sixty miles in to the meeting. When they did, the youthful companionship was limited. Besides, a growing shyness made it hard for Mary Jane to relax with people in the city. When the treacherous weather threatened, Daddy thought it best to stay in the safety of the big house; and their isolation was quite complete. The girls were very close, usually, and enjoyed many good discussions. Mamma too was always a “tower of strength.”

One night Mary Jane lay awake for a while as the big house rattled and shook to its foundation from the violent force of the screaming north wind. Her sins seemed to come before her with vividness never before experienced. She remembered many she had forgotten and some so rank she could never forget. What a shabby collection! The Lord was doing some deeper plowing in her soul.

Was it coincidence that soon after this her attention was caught by a portion of a verse in Matthew 18:23-32: “I forgave thee all that debt”? The servant who owed so much to his lord had heard these blessed words. They were sweeter than honey to Mary Jane. The Lord had just shown her somewhat of her own debt. And to know the whole thing forgiven! But she did not lay hold of the facts concerning the mighty work. The work was done so completely, God’s wrath against her sins so fully spent; the blessed Son of God who bore them was raised from the dead to prove the power of death broken once and for all these were things imperfectly realized by her. When the old blues overtook her in a moment of fatigue or discouragement, Satan would throw a fiery dart that produced a thought like this, “See? here you are with the ‘blues’ again. Christians are always happy. Aren’t you just kidding yourself? You probably don’t really believe from the heart. Anyway, just why would you be a chosen one?”

And the burning ache would return. Predestination! Daddy joyfully explained it as a marvelous “family secret” to be enjoyed by the members of God’s family and not preached to sinners. Jennie was like Daddy – “God says it and that settles it! Just enjoy it!”

“Why can’t I just be simple too!” Mary Jane wailed to Lori one day. Lori had endured some of these same exercises herself. She comforted softly, “Maybe the Lord is letting you go through these things so that you can someday help another poor little girl. ‘He that hath begun a good work in you will perform it....’ That I am sure of.”

Flivver Versus Horses: Chapter 14

Each wind storm that spring tried to outdo its predecessor in sheer fury. As to snow or rain, the skies seemed not to be able to produce them any more. The prospects were grave for the coming planting season. The economic depression too was full blown. No wonder Daddy’s face was often care worn and his step lacking in the usual spring.

“There’s only one thing that can give us a ghost of a chance this year, Mom,” Daddy observed one Saturday morning. “And that’s a two-week-long, soaking rain. We’ll haul our last load of hay today over to them cattle on the school section place. If we have to buy hay, we cain’t even come out on the cattle, I’m thinking.” Turning to the children at the breakfast table, he gave the orders for the day.

“Clara, you and Robbie come along with me in the car. Cliff’ll drive Snip and Bessie over with the load of hay. Then he can help me over there and you young uns can drive the team and wagon home. I think you should be able to manage. Then the rest of you that Mom don’t need fer the house, at least Jennie and Lori, I want you to burn them piles of weeds Cliff raked out in the field west of the gulch. Don’t set more’n one at a time and quit if the wind comes up. You got that?”

The family dispersed to their assigned tasks. Mary Jane knew she would slosh through the dishes as fast as possible and coax Mamma to let her help the girls with the weed burning. That sounded like fun.

Later when she had gained her purpose, Mary Jane joined Jennie to watch a pile of tumbleweeds burn hotly.

“Look, quick!” screamed Lori, “A ferret! He was using the weeds for a hiding place! Did you see his white fur coat? In the summer he’ll turn brown.”

How he could appear and disappear so quickly was a mystery. The girls knew better than to probe him out for the disposition of these animals was all tooth and temper.

“Jennie,” asked Mary Jane, “do you really think we’re ‘just a few jumps from the poorhouse,’ like Daddy said last night when Ellen and I asked to mail in our order for new summer clothes?”

“Oh, probably not that serious. But hard times are ahead for sure – especially unless the weather changes. Did you know that Clara wants to leave and go to work for Mrs. Eaton? If she does go, she’ll have to be there two weeks before Marguerite quits to get married, and that means soon. Daddy is inclined to agree since times are so hard and prospects here about nil.”

“Really?” Mary Jane was quiet. “Do you suppose they’ll take her to Paris?”

“Maybe they’ll have to put off the Paris trip,” put in Lori. “The depression has nipped into old Eaton’s prosperity too; Marguerite mentioned that in her last letter. If Clara is maid number one and two, that job would be pretty rough. I sure wouldn’t want it.”

The girls chatted on casually as they worked. Clara and Robbie were having anything but a casual time.

The plans for the day had clicked off quite according to schedule to a point. The hay had been pitched off the wagon. Throwing the reins to Robbie, Daddy chirped, “All yours, m ‘boy! Remember now, Bessie is always on the lookout fer excitement. She’d sooner run away than eat. Just keep a firm hand on the reins and you’ll be okay.”

“Okay, Pop!” Clara returned and she and Robbie were off.

All went well out to the interstate highway on which they had to travel for about a mile. After Daddy’s experience at the railroad where a train had slipped around the bend without whistling, the children always used extra care at that point. The wind had carried the sound of the train away that day, and Mr. Hillman had missed disaster by about two feet. Crossing the tracks in safety, they felt there was nothing more to fear.

Unknown to them, just below the brow of the little hill where lay the gate to the highway, a little vehicle sputtered and chugged its way to a fateful encounter with the children. Miss Pickins pedaled her wares around the countryside, conveying her ample three hundred pound figure and sundry bolts of cloth and clothing in the saddest little flivver ever to roll onto the road. Its top of black canvas was tattered and patched and flappers that perhaps were meant to be curtains fluttered gaily in the breezes. The lady herself in a brightly colored dress was spread over the whole front seat, hemmed in on all sides by her stock in trade. Had she known the fright that lay in store for her, she would surely not have left her bed that day.

As the little contraption clattered, chugged and flapped by, Snip and Bessie reared and snorted in alarm. Clara bit her lips until they bled as she grabbed the reins from the startled Robbie. Nobly she tried to yank the horses to the left turn they were to make, but sheer panic had set in. Blindly they leaped to the right almost leaving the road entirely. Clara managed to pull them back onto the road. Plunging wildly ahead, they charged in hot pursuit of the very object of their terror. Nearer and nearer they came. Miss Pickins was almost as panic stricken as the horses and was leaning dangerously toward the side ditch in her efforts to give them room. But Daddy’s sharp eyes had seen the race begin.

“Yonder there, Cliff!” he yelled, pointing. “We’ve got to catch them horses!”

Cliff jumped for the Chevie and Daddy clung to it crouched on the running board. “Floor-board her, Cliff!”

Cliff was fully equal to the situation and gained the side of the wagon just after it passed the unfortunate flivver. Matching their speed and praying for no sudden turnings of the wagon, he kept abreast long enough for Daddy to grab hold and swing aboard. Whether the horses were too weary to continue or whether the roar of the Master’s “Wooh!” put reason into their heads is unimportant. The situation was soon in hand. Miss Pickins had stopped.

“Cliff, go back and tell that gal there that under no circumstances is she to move that heap of hers till I can get this team past her. She can thank God she wasn’t clean run over!”

Miss Pickins only gasped, “My stars!” She couldn’t seem to find her tongue. It was just as well too.

Tragedy on the Highway: Chapter 15

Robbie was more often favored to go to town with Daddy when repairs were needed. It was part of his education to learn of such things. However, one Saturday it fell out that Mary Jane was nearby when a grain drill broke and Daddy’s glance took her in.

“Hop in and ride in to town with ole Dad. Gotta get this thinga-ma-jig welded. We – that is, Mom won’t be needing you? Sure?”

“I’ll go tell her and comb my hair,” Mary Jane answered eagerly. Usually when you went to town with Daddy he bought a strawberry ice cream cone at the drug store.

In a matter of minutes, they were trouncing down the lane to the larger of two towns they often patronized. Daddy was talking.

“Yessir, it’s the dryest Spring in all my experience in this country. We’re not quite in the dust bowl, but we ain’t fur from it. Sure hope the Lord sees fit to send rain soon. Banks is going busted all over too. We know the blessed Lord will provide us with necessary food and shelter, but it’s a gettin’ a mite hard to keep up that shield of faith. It’s easy enough to tell the other fella, Now you jest trust the Lord’ – that is until the shoe begins to pinch yer own foot. Ever notice that? We all have to have these testings, though. I don’t know how folks get along without the Lord.
“Daddy, I hear a noise, a hum or roar –.”

“So do I – well I’ll be – Boy! I’m taking to the ditch! Look there comin’ up behind us.” Whistling, he pulled out into a shallow ditch.

A late model car was roaring up from the rear at suicidal speed. The motor hummed and the vehicle swayed dangerously as a grim figure crouched low over the steering wheel.

“That fool has lost his reason, or my name’s not Ned Hillman! First curve and he’ll be in eternity!” Daddy was talking in quiet awe. “Who on earth could that be?”

Two more cars whizzed by, apparently eager to follow. Daddy was pale.

“Pet, we’re sure to see trouble ahead. I wish you hadn’t come along. I’ve just got to get on in to town, though. Think you can take it?”

“I’m all right, Daddy. Those other cars will beat us there. Maybe we won’t have to –. I won’t look.”

“There won’t be nothing left to save, I’m thinking.” And Daddy drove on reluctantly.

It was just about two miles further where the road curved to the right. In the center of the arc was a deserted place with an old brick house. The careening car had hit this house. Wheels and tortured fenders, a door and other debris were slung in confusion around. The two cars had stopped. Daddy slowed. He yelled to the men at the scene, “Need help, boys? Or shall I go call an ambulance?” “Call fer sumthin’ – the sheriff maybe. Ain’t no hurry on him. It’s old Phelps, the banker from Calhoun.”

“I reckon he did his self in fer some reason.” The speaker, a foul-mouthed, tobacco-chewing ranchman was white and shaken. No profanity now. He was in the presence of death.

Mary Jane, like most other human beings, was too curious not to peek a little. What she saw made her sick down to the pit of her stomach. Never would she forget that scene. Why? The banker of all people! He was always so self-assured and – well – like he had the world at his fingertips.

“Don’t look good,” Daddy observed. “Likely as not he’s got the bank books fouled up and now that the government is checking on things – however, I shouldn’t say that. We don’t know yet. But the ‘love of money is the root of all evil,’ Scripture says. It’s been many a human’s downfall.”

“What do you mean, Daddy? If he just made some mistakes, can’t they be fixed up?”

“Well, ya see, Pet, some of them fell as cain’t handle all that moolah without bein’ tempted to ‘borry’ a mite. Oh like as not they intend to pay it back after whatever they’re ‘speculating’ on pays off. But ‘the way of the transgressor is hard.’ The Lord lets a man go just so fur, and the ax falls. Well, here we are! I seem to feel the need of a strawberry ice cream cone! I’ll notify ‘em there at the drug store and they’ll call in whoever they deem best.”

The ice cream treat had lost its charm, but Daddy wanted her occupied while he was busy; so Mary Jane cooperated. It was exciting to be bearers of such momentous tidings. The girl at the soda fountain plied her with many questions – most of which she couldn’t answer. It was a relief when another customer came in and Mary Jane was left with her ice cream and thoughts.

Next day the news was confirmed. Headlines screamed: “Phelps Embezzles Thousands; Commits Suicide in Fiery Crash!” It was the chief topic of conversation by angry ranchmen for many days. Phelps had been a hard one to deal with; but it was a lesson to all. Daddy made good use of it to speak of better things, solemn things concerning sin, death and judgment to come. But always, always the Blessed Way of escape for the living was held up.

Beloved Scotch Shepherd: Chapter 16

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.

The Graduation: Chapter 17

“Calm down, Ellen,” admonished Mary Jane as the two dressed for school on the first of May. “You’ll never get my dress buttoned in back the way you’re shaking!”

“I can’t help it! These old final exams have me scared stiff. I can just see Mr. Blodgett solemnly opening my sealed doom in the presence of those witnesses. I just can’t think straight after that. I wish I was young like you and didn’t have to take them.”

“Oh, you’ll do okay! You got A’s just about all year.”

“Yes, but I could ruin my whole average by flubbing the tests. And I just know I’ll do it too! In the first place, my head aches from studying until 12:30.

“The final exams were a frightening ordeal – coming from the county headquarters in sealed packets. They were to be witnessed strictly and the written exams again sealed in the presence of the witnesses. This formal process, together with the fact that the textbooks county-wide were not all uniform, made them dreaded and hated by everyone. Ellen had settled down to good hard work this year. Her breezy carefree attitude of former years had been conquered by a gifted history teacher who had somehow sparked her to real studious effort. If only her mind wouldn’t panic now!

Jennie was leaving high school. She had never been anything but a beautiful student and, as expected, this year she was taking top honors. These were to be rewarded with a full scholarship to the state university. Because of her high average, and being a privileged senior, she had been exempt from county exams. Now she could coast in on her laurels.

In the Hillman’s children’s eyes, Daddy was, as dads should be, loved and respected. Every human being has some outstanding faults, however. Among his was a stubborn conviction that the farm work should always have priority – without much exception. If the “weeds is takin’ us,” plans were changed to eradicate the weeds – often at the expense of some bitter tears from the children. If the pinto beans were ready to be cut, they were cut; and some children stayed home from school if necessary. Having had so little formal schooling himself, Daddy entered into the milestones his children met and passed in school only work permitting. He wanted them to do their best and praised scholarship, but –.

Two weeks after exams, graduation day arrived. Ellen was leaving grammar school, and this class combined with the senior graduates, was to be feted and awarded that night. Ellen was completely uncertain as to her fate, but Jennie was confident. Excitement was very high.

Mamma looked worried. She knew her husband’s weakness (or strength, whichever view one cares to take). She knew that he had undertaken a lengthy and difficult task that day. And she also sensed that it was not going well. Supper time had arrived, and still the men folk had not come in. At last a dejected and weary Robbie came in from the barn.

“Mom, I hate to say this, but Dad sent me to tell you that he’ll be late to supper.”

“Oh, dear! How late?”

“Well,” Robbie gulped, “maybe, he’ll be done in another hour.”

“No, Mom. He said the grain has to be treated tonight, cause we’ve got to plant it. You know that little rain we had – the ground will be just right. He said he was sorry, but –.”

The girls could hardly believe their ears.

“Daddy’s got to come! Why, we can’t even go to the graduation if he doesn’t get in for another hour!” Mary Jane sputtered.

“Mother, do something!” Ellen was almost in shock.

“We’ve just got to go,” Jennie put in firmly. “Even if we have to walk. Let’s see, maybe we could make it if we started right now.” And Jennie was looking at the clock figuring.

“But my hair! And my new white shoes!” It was all too much for prim little Ellen. A floodgate opened and hot tears began to flow.

Clara had said nothing. But now she came forward. “Oh, Ellen, blow your nose and stop bawling like that. I’ll drive you to town.”

“You!” ejaculated Lori, “Why you just barely know how to shift the gears in the new Chevie.”

“Well? I know how, and that’s what it takes.”

“But, Clara, do you think you’d be brave enough to drive on the state highway? And what about a license?” said worried Mamma.

But Clara was going out the kitchen door calling over her shoulder, “I’m asking Pop. You kids go ahead and eat. I’m pretty sure he’ll let me.”

Some little time later, the five girls were seated in the neat little blue Chevie. Ellen’s eyes were still red from crying, but every ruffle and hair was in place. All eyes were on Clara.

“Well, now, let’s see. We turn this thing-a-ma-jig here and push on the starter down here.”

The little motor came to life with a great roar as Clara pushed down too far on the accelerator.

“Woops! Gotta watch that. Now hold on, kids. It may be a bit jumpy here till I get going.”

They lurched forward only to come to an untimely halt.

“I’ll be jiggered! What do you reckon I did wrong? Maybe I let up on the gas too quick. We’ll try again.”

But the little carburetor had been favored with too much gas and was flooded.

“Good night! I smell gas. What have you done to it, Clara?” cried Jennie.

“Well, if you can do any better just get over here behind the wheel!” Clara was flustered and getting more so. “If it’s just flooded, it’ll start in a few minutes. Now if you’ll keep your shirts on and be quiet, maybe I can do something.”

Ellen was dabbing at her eyes again. Lori and Jennie had their eyes shut in silent prayer.

At last the motor was successfully started. After about two healthy jerks, they were rolling down the lane.

“If you help me watch for cars on the highway, maybe I’ll be lucky and not need to stop,” Clara called.

With everyone’s solicited and unsolicited help, they arrived at the auditorium just about starting time.

“Where have you been? Quick, get in line!” came from several directions as the girls appeared.

“Ellen! You did it!” squealed her girl friend Ruthie Carter as she grabbed Ellen’s arm. “You got one point over Donald Shelton! Oh! I’m so proud of you!”

From then on the girls were in a different world a world in which they figured for once. The superintendent of the county school system, a stately, charming lady gave the usual flattering address with phrases designed to inspire the children to high goals in worldly achievements. It all sounded pretty grand to Mary Jane, and she noticed that Ellen’s chin was up just a little.

It was a bit embarrassing to explain the absence of Mamma and Daddy; so the girls left as soon as possible after the ceremony. Safe in the Chevie (which Clara started almost smoothly) Mary Jane remarked with a tinge of bitterness in her voice, “Well, it just serves Daddy right! I guess he’ll be good and sorry he missed being so proud of you girls. I hope –.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, Mary Jane!” Clara scolded. “You want to eat, don’t you? Can’t you understand Daddy’s side a little? The only rain we had all spring just came a couple of days ago and if we don’t plant now, we might as well forget it. You got to go, didn’t you? I don’t want to hear any more complaining.”

“Yes, but a person doesn’t graduate every day –.”

“No, but unfortunately you want to eat every day. Poor Daddy has enough worries.”

“You know, I couldn’t help thinking as Mrs. King was urging us to reach for a star and go on to higher goals, we sure hear the exact opposite at the meeting. I was reading yesterday too in Jeremiah. There was a verse: ‘Seekest thou great things for thyself? Seek them not,’ it says. So don’t let it go to your head, Ellen. The Lord wants us to work well, but not to strive for honors. Of course, I intend, Lord willing, to use my scholarship. I trust it’s His will and that He will keep me from getting away from Him.”

“Oh, Jennie, you’re always so good! Weren’t you a teeny bit proud tonight?” exclaimed Ellen.

Jennie’s eyes dropped. “I did have to confess that to Him more than once.”

Daddy met them at the door. Clara dropped behind Mary Jane and jabbed her elbow into her youngest sister’s back.

“Daddy! It was wonderful! Jennie and Ellen both got the honors!” Mary Jane discreetly stopped as Clara stood near.

“Well, well! Congratulations! I’m mighty glad to hear it!” He kissed the two so honored. “And, Clara, honey, thanks! I reckon you saved the day. It was a pretty hard deal. I’m sorry – right sorry.” And a little tear rolled down his cheek. He turned quickly to open the door.

Mary Jane had hoped he would be hurt and really feel bad. She could see her naughty wish had come true, but it didn’t make her feel good at all.

“See?” hissed Clara near her ear.

Proving God's Care: Chapter 18

Before the spring wore very far into summer, the prospects on the farm were so poor that Clara made her decision to leave for work in the city. Daddy wiped the tears away as he bid her good-bye. It was more than a little comfort to put her into the keeping of Mrs. Eaton whom he respected as a fine person. She was to train under Marguerite for two weeks.

Clara squeezed Mary Jane’s hand and whispered, “I’ll send you k ids some pretty dresses now and then.”

Clara was sorely missed. At least in one area – the garden – her services were not required. Although it had been planted as usual, it was in sad condition. The windmill pumped enough water to irrigate it, but a new scourge had come. Great brownish-gray grasshoppers had moved in and left little for the human beings. The plague was not so bad at the Hillman’s farm as it was south and east in the dustbowl area. One day Wes Corder who lived to the south stopped by.

“Ned,” he said, “it’s bad. I just come from Yoder. You’re gonna think I’m lyin’ to ya, but this is the truth or my name ain’t Wes Corder. The grasshoppers was crossin’ the highway in a regular army. My pick-up, and I ain’t lyin’, my pick-up actually skidded in crushed hoppers as I drove through ‘em. Them poor fellers is done fer and we ain’t fer behind.”

Ned listened quietly. Both men looked very solemn indeed. Then Mr. Hillman spoke.

“Wes, I’m concerned – mighty concerned – but my Bible reads this away: ‘My God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus’ (Phil. 4:19). Now I don’t expect to be eatin’ apple pie all the time, but I know the Lord is going to take care of our needs. More important, He has taken care of all my sins and I know I have a future up there in the glory with Him. Nothing – no drought – no nothing can change it. Now wouldn’t you like to know the God that can do all that fer a feller?”

Wes spat tobacco juice expertly into the coal bucket. Mamma shuddered slightly.

“Aw, Ned,” he drawled. “Git outa the clouds and down to earth. Anyways, if yer God is so good and kind, how come He sent all them grasshoppers instead of the rain we need?” A hard look settled over his unshaven face. “I reckon I’ll be shovin’ off now. So long.”

Daddy saw him to his pick-up and walked slowly back. Time lay a little heavy on his hands, as the usual farm work was useless. He sighed heavily and picked up his Bible. Mary Jane had been dusting the living room. She sensed more trouble and bent to pat and kiss his balding head.

“The shield of faith, honey. When it aint’ up them old darts of fear and worry fly thick and fast. Somehow the Lord will see us through.”

“Mary Jane,” Mamma called from the kitchen. “I think some green salad would be nice for dinner.

Mary Jane meditates by the Windmill Pond. How about you running out to get some for us?”

“But, Mamma, the lettuce is ruined. We looked at it together.”

“Oh, I know,” said Mamma stepping to the door of the room, “but remember – I showed you that weed we call ‘lamb’s quarters’? It makes good greens. Weeds get by where the garden vegetables can’t. Dandelion green will do in a pinch too. Oh, we’ll eat I think.”

Daddy laughed. “Truer words was never spoke. Weeds can take anything almost and go to seed. Why, I’ve seen weeds that normally grow three feet high fruit out at three inches high. If you can turn the curse to our advantage, Mom, you’ll do all right.”

Later as Mary Jane went to gather her harvest she thought to herself, “It’s a good thing for us that Mamma was a poor little girl and learned ways to live off the land. Those mushrooms she picked last week were really great. And I’d rather eat cotton tails and little jack rabbits than roast beef. But mortgages and stuff – I wish there was a law against ‘em.”

Down by the irrigation ditch near the sad little garden was a plentiful supply of the weed Mamma had showed her – lamb’s quarters.

“What a curious name – or is it? It’s meant, of course, for wooly lambs, but we’re God’s lambs and sheep – it’s all through the Bible. It’s kind of sweet to think of the Lord Jesus giving us some nice ‘lettuce’ to go with our potatoes.”

“Makes you feel a little like Elijah, eh, Mary Jane?” Mary Jane jumped. She was so deep in her thoughts that she had not noticed Daddy come up behind her.

“Yes, Daddy. God fed him by the ravens, didn’t He?”

Picking one of the little plants, Daddy toyed with it thoughtfully. “The going may get pretty rough before long, honey. Take a good look at this tender little weed now. Look at it as a pledge that we’ll be fed too from the hand of God. Lamb’s quarters we are the sheep of His pasture – His lambs, if you please.”

Smiling up at Daddy, Mary Jane replied softly, “I was just thinking the same thing.”

“Funny how the Lord could use a little old weed to encourage our faith. A weed, you know is a symbol of the curse; but God can turn it for us lambs as a symbol of His loving care. I came down to check out that grasshopper poison I got from the government. While you are gathering our greens, I’m going to see if it’s made any progress on them rascals as is eatin’ our garden.”

Later that week great thunderheads began gathering over the mountains to the west. Usually the wind tore them apart and eager rain watchers turned away again disappointed. Today, however, about three in the afternoon, the sky appeared to be darkening noticeably. Mother called to Jennie.

“Have you looked at the sky lately? I think you’d better saddle Macey and get the cows in quick. I’ve an idea we’re in for rain or hail!”

Jennie was ironing some material she was preparing to sew into a dress for her college career beginning in September.

“Oh, Mamma! I just saw Macey and Lucy race by in a playful gallop. No telling how far they’ve gone. I’ll see if I can see them.”

The two horses had sensed a coming storm and had run far to the north in a spurt of excitement. Jennie saw two small creatures quite far away just disappearing over the hill.

“Yep! It’d take as long to get them as the cows. Could I take the old car?”

“But, honey, suppose you were caught in the rain? In no time the mud would get you. Maybe Lori had better go too. If necessary you could shelter in the old Zike house.”

“Okay. But where is Lori? Painting, I suppose.” Lori had sent away for a set of oil paints. She had outstripped everyone else in the family for her artistry and was turning out paintings of mountains, deer and just about any nature scene one could desire all very much to Daddy’s delight.

Soon the girls were walking briskly to the pasture where they could see the cows, fortunately near the old house. It had once been the one-room quarters of the country school teacher back when Marguerite began school.

“Jennie! Look at the greenish-gray color at the edge of those awful clouds. Let’s run. Its going to really rain or hail!”

Just as they reached the cows – all breathless great drops began to fall.

“Run for the house, Lori!”

They slammed the old door shut as a great clap of thunder sounded and lightning cracked nearby. The heavens opened and torrents of hail drove mercilessly across the bleak hills and whitened the ground. The girls looked around the rat-infested room for the most sheltered corner. Since there was no glass in the two windows, they sought a dry spot near the quaint old broken-down range. The but was a sturdy structure built by sturdy men. The walls were constructed of stone and plastered over so that they were a good six or eight inches thick.

Huddled together with the rain sweeping in the windows, the two had time to contemplate.

“You know, Jennie, it’s a shame for this place to decay in ruin. Can’t you just see how cozy it could look with pretty curtains and a braided rug? It commands a view of the whole country up here on the hill.”

“It would make a cute honeymoon cottage. Do you remember Mamma telling about Miss Johnson? She came out one morning to see a big timber wolf standing off there to the right. Wow! But speaking of wolves, the kind I’m scared of is the two-legged kind. I don’t like the looks of those beer cans and cigarette butts.”

“Me either. It occurred to me some tramp might even now be hiking up here from the highway. It isn’t far away, you know.”

“Lori, do you suppose we ought to climb up into the attic? It might be dryer too. But then if someone came, we couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t find us up there.”

Just then a gust of wind slapped the house and a great crash sounded from above. How could they know it was only a rusty hinge letting a little inside shutter fall to the floor?

Jennie was naturally brave, and her faith was very real and strong. “I think we need to pray, Lori, and then we’ll sing hymns. We might as well talk ourselves into it. We’ll probably not get home tonight. It’s still pouring rain and you know what’s between here and home.”

They sat quietly and each in her own way communed with the Father above. Hymns and fragments of hymns were sung to while away the next two hours. At last they were quiet, having exhausted every note of their musical knowledge. There was no need to mention the steady, dull roar which they had both been hearing. In their minds they could see the dark, swirling flood waters pouring over the ledge down near the pond in a miniature Niagara Falls. In the darkness and steady rain it would be foolhardy to attempt to get home.

Lori thought she heard a strange squish-squash somewhere out in the darkness. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought of tramps. Hoping it was one of the cattle, she considered it best to be quiet. Jennie had her eyes closed in prayer, but the regular rhythm of the sound was unmistakable. She grabbed Lori’s arm.

“Quick! To the attic!’’
In the darkness Lori’s foot caught a beer can which noisily skittered into the old stove. The clash of metal against metal sounded to them louder than the report of a gun. Just then a loud masculine voice sounded clearly above the wind and rain.
“Jennie! Lori! Are you there?”

Good old Daddy! He had braved the flooding creek and storm to come for them. He had a lantern too and some food.

“Oh, Daddy! It won’t seem bad at all to stay here now with you!” Lori sighed after eating a few bites of her sandwich.

“Stay here!” Daddy ejaculated. “Shucks, girls, we cain’t stay here. We’re going home.”

“But how did you ever get across the creek to come here, Daddy?” Jennie asked. “I was so glad to see you and so hungry I forgot to ask.”

“Well, now the crick is going down some. I know it’s roaring at a great rate. But down near where it goes under the fence by French’s forty, it narrows down some. I jest pole vaulted across her there. Nothin’ to it. I’m sure you gals, being spry’s grasshoppers, kin do it too. Don’t look so shook, Lori, your old pop’ll show you how and see ya get over safe. I think we can count on it being even easier than when I came across.”

Lori suddenly lost her appetite for the sandwiches and cookies. She was the most un-athletic of all the girls. Her gentle suggestions that she didn’t mind sleeping on the floor and that it really wasn’t too cold went unheeded. Jennie was no support, being as confident as her father.

To walk in the mud the distance to the roaring gulch took no small effort, and they had to stop occasionally to clear the balls of mud from their shoes. Lori’s apprehension grew.

Daddy’s spirits were high. “We lost the spring planting and the fields is washed out some, but this rain’ll save the pasture and the livestock. It’s a lot to thank the Lord fer.”

Lori was thankful, but she hoped to live to be more thankful. The inevitable crossing lay dead ahead.

“Yeah, nothin’ at all to it now. She’s gone down a lot. Ready girls? Now watch me.”

He grabbed the pole and aided by momentum from a little run, swung expertly across. He repeated and returned. “Who’s first now? Think ya got the hang of it?”

“Sure, Pop! Give me the pole.” And Jennie was across before Lori could recover enough to open her eyes to see how her sister did.

“Toss it back now!” Daddy called. “Here we go, Lori. Watch agin and I’ll do it a mite slower.” Time was running out. A quick “Lord, please help me!” was sent up above and Lori grasped the pole. “Don’t look! Just do it!” yelled Jennie.

So Lori shut her eyes and made the little run. She would have made it fine, except for that quick look at the chocolate swirling water. The pause weakened her thrust and she landed in the slimy five inches of mud left by the flood at its crest. There was no standing there. But Daddy’s quick strong hand caught her, and Lori was safe.

“I knew it, Daddy! I knew I’d fall!” she cried, swiping at the thick mud on her skirt and knees.

“A little short on faith there, honey,” said Daddy comfortingly. “Next time don’t be a Peter, Lori. Yer mistake was lookin’ at the waves.”

Home again at last, and oh, what luxuries – a bath, clean clothes and the comfort of the old iron bed!

“Oh, Jennie,” Lori observed to her sister. “I hope I never forget to thank the Lord for my good old clean bed every single night!”

Disappointment: Chapter 19

“Mamma’s been singing ‘Praise the Savior’ for the last half hour. And have you noticed, she acts like – well – like she’s extra pleased about something,” Mary Jane observed to Ellen as the two set the supper table.

“Come to think of it, you’re right. I wonder what it is?”

The family was called to the table just then. After the blessing was asked, Daddy smiled at Mamma and remarked, “Well, out with it, Mom. You’ve been actin’ like somethin’ was about to bust out. Or is it a secret?”

Mamma flushed as she beamed. “No, no secret. It’s good news, though. Helen French says to get the water tank ready Saturday – that she really is going to be baptized, no matter what Joe says. I just feel sure the Lord will undertake and preserve her from his wrath. There! Now isn’t that good news? I’ve just been praising the Lord ever since she told me at our reading time today!”

“Well! Now that is good news! I’ve felt for a long time she’d ought to call his bluff on that. Anyways, when the Lord says to do something, He expects you to trust Him fer workin’ out the details. And furthermore, when a feller refuses to live up to what light he’s been given, he loses ground and pro-gresses backwards instead of forewards.” Daddy contemplated a few moments, obviously pleased. “Yep! I’ll call in to Frank after supper and we’ll get it done afore she loses her nerve.”

Arrangements were made and everything appeared to be going smoothly. Early afternoon Saturday was the time set, and an eleven o’clock lunch was planned to clear the stove for use. Twelve-thirty found every available container, including the wash boiler, full of water and heating to boiling. A large pot was even placed on the pot-belly stove in the dining room. The water that came from the well was mighty chilly. Many prayers had ascended for Mrs. French, but as the time drew near, Mamma nervously looked to the east for her beloved Helen’s appearance. Her earlier faith was flickering. If only she could pray with Helen now! But the pall of discouragement seemed to deepen. Just then the telephone rang. About three persons leaped to get it, but Mamma was the quickest.

“Oh, yes, Helen! We’re all ready. Shall Ned come and pick you up? But – but – oh, Helen! Don’t you think –?”

The voice on the other end of the line was tense and full of emotion.

“I can’t – Oh, I can’t go through with it! Joe will kill me! And what would become of my children! Oh, Eva, forgive me! You don’t know Joe!” And heavy sobs were relayed over the wire.

“Remember, Helen, we committed that all to the Lord? He’s able, I’m sure, to stay Joe’s hand. I know, oh I know, the Lord would honor you for it! He says, ‘Him that honoreth Me, I will honor.’ You know that!” But dear Mamma heard the same dismal answer. “You don’t know Joe! I can’t! You don’t have to live with him!”

So it was that instead of a baptism – a triumph of faith – a sad little group read a few scriptures and prayed for their weaker sister in Christ across the lane. They prayed also for Joe, that he might somehow be reached with the gospel, that his hard heart might be melted and be born again.

Mamma’s head was bowed and many a hot tear had to be wiped away. She vowed to resist any attempt of the enemy to discourage their Bible readings. Helen would be sensitive and feel that surely her disappointed brethren in Christ would be offended and want to cut her off. She must not be allowed to feel this way. When Mr. Hillman firmly remarked that he was sure Helen would lose ground in her soul’s growth, it was like a knife piercing Mamma’s own heart.

“Isn’t there a scripture – ‘but of some making a difference.’? After all, the Lord knows all about it. If only Joe would get saved!”

Daddy tried to soften his remarks, but it was plain to Mamma that his hopes were dim. Her own faith was never at lower ebb.

“By the way, folks, I nearly forgot to tell you the news! Frank told me brother and sister Bowman is due in fer a visit. That ought to cheer you up! There, there now, Mom. Let’s lift up the hands that are hangin’ down and we’ll jest keep a prayin’. A week from this Lord’s Day they’ll be here and likely we’ll have some extra meetings. Maybe even old Joel decide to come!”

Everyone was noticeably cheered at the prospect of the Bowmans’ visit. Mary Jane’s feelings were mixed. Right now the mixture was heavy on the blue ingredient. She was examining with the inward look. Discouraged with what she saw, she considered why she wasn’t happier in the Lord. And predestination! That subject always frightened her and kept coming up lately. “Maybe”, she secretly worried, “Maybe I feel this way because it’s a ‘certain fearful looking for judgment’ because I’m not one of the chosen ones. But Jennie says that can’t be me. Well, I hope somehow I can get straightened out. The Lord really seemed to promise to perform His Word unto me and Lori says having started the work, He’ll complete it.”

That night as the wind sighed and moaned around the eaves, Mamma sighed with it. So did Mary Jane. But long after the big round moon smiled into their sleeping faces, poor Helen French tossed and wept. She hated herself. And yet as she looked at the sleeping figure beside her, cruel lines apparent even in repose, in agony she cried out, “ ‘Lord, I believe! Help Thou my unbelief,’ and please save Joe!”

At last an assurance of the Lord’s having heard her request possessed her, and she too drifted into restful sleep.

Spike the Hero: Chapter 20

Hard times of drought and depression ground on, crumbling the resources and even the reason of many. In the early spring, Mrs. Hillman reminded her husband of his vague “promise” to let her raise some chickens.

“Well, I’ll have to fix up the chicken house with brooder and such. I reckon I kin spare a little money; and time – that’s no problem. We’ll try maybe five hundred.”

“Five hundred baby chicks!” Mary Jane bubbled.

“They’ll spell some work now. Not just playin’ away the hours while Mamma does the running for ‘em. You’ll help now?” Daddy looked stern.

And help she did. It was never too hard. Mary Jane spent literally hours in the warm cozy brooder house with the soft balls of fluff. If one fell sick, she begged Mamma to let her care for it “special.”

Once when Clara was home for a visit, she called in vain for her little sister.

“Oh, look in the brooder house,” Ellen answered disgustedly. “She can’t stay out of that dusty, smelly place. It’s a good thing Mamma dusts ‘em for lice. Because Mary Jane would be sure to have ‘em!”

Ellen was a wee bit jealous of her former constant companion’s new love.

Clara had mellowed greatly since being away from home, but some of the old glint returned to her eyes as she opened the brooder house door. “Up to yer old tricks, eh, Mary Jane? Used to have to yank the books away to get any work out of you. Now it’s chicks!” Her eyes softened as she looked about. “Oh, aren’t they cute little rascals! Look at ‘em cuddle on your foot. Hey! You meany over there! Quit fighting your poor little sister!”

And Clara forgot what she came for. They enjoyed the chicks together for a while.

“You sure are lucky to get to stay home. This old world isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. Oh, you earn a little money. Say, by the way, what size shoes do you wear?”

Mary Jane did not withhold the information. Clara had proved most generous.

The fun diminished as the chicks feathered out and it came time for the fryers to go the way of – fryers. The pullets began laying darling little eggs.

It was about this period in the chicken venture that a great commotion came from the direction of the chicken house one morning. Such “cut-cut-a-ducts!” and flurry of wings. Mamma hurried out with Mary Jane close on her heels.

“Honey, quick! It’s a big rat! Get Spike and I’ll try to keep him here!” It happened that his entrance had been effected near where Mrs. Hillman stood, so that the rat did not dare to escape. Almost within seconds, good old Spike was on the spot. Stepping aside they let the dog take over. Frantic chickens scattered in all directions, one being almost run down as the dog lurched for the hateful rat. He made for the exit and slithered out. But Spike kept his cool, darted out the door and was soon hot on his trail. Mamma had grabbed a large stick and she and Mary Jane ran to cut off escape. Seeing he was cornered, the rat ( who measured ten inches from nose to tail) turned and bared his long yellow front teeth, ready to fight to the death. Spike knew no fear. With magnificent valor, he dived for the rat. Quick, deadly fangs snapped through the thick of Spike’s upper lip. Neither released his hold until Spike had shaken and bitten the life from his foe.

Tenderly they attempted to treat the vicious lip wound. But Spike was frantic to get away. Why? Did he smell another rat?

The dear old dog just ran a piece aside and “lost all his biscuits.” How repulsive the rat had been to him!

“Dear old Spike! We don’t blame you one bit!” Mary Jane crooned. Spike rolled adoring, sad eyes to hers and licked his sore lip. “And I forgive you for every time you deserted me to hunt rabbits.” Again eyes eloquent with appreciation.

Daddy petted and loved the old dog a long time that evening.

“Now, that’s what you call ‘eschewin evil,’ Mary Jane. Spike not only fought the evil one, but he hated it with all his might. Trouble is, all evil don’t come at the Christian with bared teeth. It can look smooth and purty, but ought to be hated as robbers of our food and growth in Christ.”

Mary Jane’s mind flashed to some of her habits. Yes, robbers, but smooth. Did she hate them?

A great calamity occurred soon after this. Spike had run out to bark at a wagon of people going to take lignite coal from the canyon south of the Hillman’s farm. One of these persons cruelly shot and wounded dear old Spike. He crept home and died in the bosom of his family that night.

Real anger flashed from Daddy’s eyes as he paced the floor, battling with the flesh within. These men were taking coal that was not theirs to take. Yet, because of the poverty of many, no one had hindered them. And now this cruel deed! The children grieved and spoke some pretty un-Christian words among themselves. But the night passed and since there was no bringing the dog back anyway, the matter was dropped.

No eye was dry as they buried their old friend in a lonely, grassy spot near the house.

Full Sunshine at Last: Chapter 21

A little bird nesting high up under the eaves in the big, gray house was startled to hear several alarms jangling away at once under her roof-top home. The eastern sky was becoming only faintly rosy. What an uncommon racket so early!

Down inside, several sleepy heads were raised among them Mary Jane’s and Ellen’s. It wasn’t hard to awaken, as the curlers had prevented very sound sleep anyway. Immediately the day’s prospects flashed into their minds. A really different day! They were going into the meeting this Lord’s Day, but the extra special part was that the Bowmans were to be there and the family was to stay in town for the afternoon and evening meetings. The morning’s chores must be done and breakfast over in time to take care of all the girls’ hair and primping. Lori still marcelled hers, heating the iron on the lamp chimney, but the others had taken to curlers. Mary Jane’s hair was still rather ragged from too hot a curling iron the last time she attempted the hot iron method.

“To think that Linda doesn’t appreciate her natural curls! Some people sure don’t know when they’re blessed,” she observed to Ellen. “Can you make this mop look a little better? Why are girls supposed to have curled hair anyway?”

“Well, for one thing, you and I look – but here, I’ll help you with your tam. Daddy’s driving the car around. We’ve got to go!”

It was a relief when they were all packed in the little Chevie, very carefully, so as to minimize wrinkles in crisply ironed skirts.

It was a general Sunday school that day – no separate classes. All eyes were on the beloved visiting brother as he read the portion he had chosen for his little talk.

“Oh, Lord,” prayed Mary Jane to herself, “Please let this be a real time of blessing! Thou knowest my need!”

“All that the Father giveth Me shall come to Me; and him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out,” the speaker was reading in his chosen portion. Several more verses were read to complete the point he had in mind. But they were lost to Mary Jane. It was as if an electric shock had arrested her. Why had she never noticed the words before!

“All-that-the-Father giveth-Me-shall come....”

Given of the Father to the Lord Jesus!

“Why – I know I came to Jesus – and, can it be? The reason I came was that the Father Himself gave me to His Son? Now that takes care of my predestination worries! I thank Thee, blessed Lord, for showing me! Oh, I’ll never doubt again!”

And it was as simple as that. All day long she reveled in her newly understood treasure. “The Father Himself loveth you,” and I’m actually given by Him to the blessed Jesus! “Accepted in the Beloved – and “chosen in Him”. She let the well-known phrases and clauses run and re-run through her mind. The perfect joy she had so long sought, shone forth on her little freckled face, and she wasn’t even aware of it.

But Ellen noticed it very soon. She had only lately laid hold on the meaning of John 3:16. The power of the Spirit of God had brought settled peace to her heart, and she had been praying for the same to happen to Mary Jane. At the first opportunity she whispered to her sister.

“Tell me about it. Something’s really made you happy, I know.”

“Oh, Ellen! How could I hear with ears that didn’t really hear for so long? You know how I’ve been worrying about whether I was a predestined one or not? Well, the Lord showed me.”

She went on to explain the light that had dawned through the simple reading of the scripture. The brother had not spoken on that particular subject and the verse was not his theme. But the earnest prayer of a seeking soul could not go unanswered. “Ask and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full.” John 16:24.

It was a full day and a day full of joy. The dear saints of God in the assembly never seemed dearer. Mary Jane and Ellen had lately been thrilled to have a new friend their own age. Linda belonged to a family lately gathered to the Lord’s name. Although she didn’t seem to care about too much besides clothes and books and boys, it was at least not so lonely for the girls.

“I was just like that not long ago – and so were you” Ellen confided to Mary Jane. “We must pray for her. Someday she’ll really ‘hear’ too.”

When at last she found herself milking cows by moonlight, Mary Jane thought to herself, “It’s funny – I ought to be tired enough to cry. Real joy affects a person all over, I guess. How could anyone want to refuse the wonderful love of God!”

One last chore remained. The foaming separated milk had to be fed to four young calves at the barn.

“Come on, Lori,” Mary Jane called. “I’ll take two buckets and you take the other two.” Each calf received about one third of a bucket. Coming back down the trail, Mary Jane recalled her sister to words she had spoken some time ago.

“Remember when you told me one time – ‘He that hath begun a good work in you will perform it...’?”

“Yes, honey. Did He finish it today?”

“I suppose it really means more than just giving settled peace to the heart. But I don’t think I’ll even doubt any more. I found out today that ‘all that the Father giveth Me shall come unto Me; and him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.’ The part about the Father giving me to the Son was what I hadn’t really heard before. I won’t worry about predestination again. Just think – isn’t it wonderful?”

“It surely ‘passes knowledge’ all right. I thought you seemed awfully happy today. I was terribly tired, but suddenly I’m too glad to be tired any more. That’s good news and a real answer to my prayers.”

Before hopping into bed that night, Mary Jane looked out on the moon-bathed landscape. To the north, the country lane lay white in silvery light.

“It’s like a little piece of the pathway in life. I can only see a little way and I don’t know what is ahead for me. Life seemed kind of scarey before, but oh, my Father, since I know Thou didst give me to Thy blessed Son – that Thou, Lord Jesus, didst shed Thy blood to wash my sins away – I know Thou wilt be with me. I thank Thee one more time!”

A New Friend: Chapter 22

Later in the week, Mr. and Mrs. Bowman came to the farm. A Thursday night meeting was planned in the home and the word was sent around the neighborhood. To Ellen and Mary Jane’s delight, their new friend Linda was with the Bowmans. Best of all she had permission to stay the remaining part of the week and the the next also.

No one really felt much hope that Joe French would come to the meeting – except maybe Mamma. Whatever glimmerings of hope anyone had were dashed away with an oath from him when he was invited. Mrs. French came, and with her, Jeanne and Balzar.

“There’s a real work going on in my Balzar, Eva. He’ll soon be in, I think,” Mrs. French confided happily.

He was too. And although he did not live for many years afterward, dear Balzar showed real evidence of divine life. Jeanne was a little wishy-washy.

Mamma rejoiced greatly with her beloved Helen. “Now maybe they will encourage each other and make the stand in baptism,” she thought.

Although Mary Jane and Ellen enjoyed the meeting, Linda seemed relieved when it was over. She wanted to take a walk in the moonlight down to the pond. The children slipped out unnoticed. Holding hands, the three skipped all the way – happy and invigorated by the gentle, cool, night breezes, faintly fragrant with the scents of sage brush and the good old earth. They sat down in the sand of a dry ravine and listened to the frogs croaking in the pond and the wild rhapsody of trillions of crickets. The whirring wings of a night hawk startled them for a second. Linda’s dark eyes sparkled.

“Who has a really juicy blood-curdling ghost story to tell? Or a hair-raising murder?” she asked.

“Not me,” Ellen shuddered, looking over her shoulder.

“Chicken!” taunted Linda. “Mary Jane?”

“Aw, we’d get too spooked up to sleep tonight. Anyway – hey! Let’s take off our shoes. The sand is still a little warm. It feels so good to wriggle your toes in it. My Sunday shoes kinda pinch my feet anyway. Lean back and look up at the stars. What a glorious sky!”

Mary Jane lay back against the lush grass on the bank. Reaching for a long stem of grass to chew, she inadvertently pulled up a tender little plant.

“Lamb’s quarters!” she cried. Then speaking softly and almost tenderly to the little plant she crooned, “You dear little old weed! God gave you to us in the drought time to help feed us and I love you!”

“What on earth is that old weed you’re mooning over! What a nut you are, Mary Jane! Give me that thing!” And Linda rudely grabbed it away. A bruised little lamb’s quarters plant fell at Ellen’s feet.

“Don’t do that!” Ellen blurted out crossly. Then “Oh, Linda, I’m sorry. I guess you don’t understand what it means to us. You see, we had a bad drought a while back and, well – really, about all we had to eat was potatoes and beans and salt pork and bread. Mamma knew about this little weed that you can cook like spinach or fix in a salad. We sorta felt like it was – from the Lord – and that’s why –.” Ellen hesitated. Linda was laughing.

“You’re sure a weird pair! A fig for your old weeds! I hope we don’t have stewed weeds tomorrow.”

Somehow the fun was over. Mary Jane and Ellen felt crushed, like the wee plant. Linda sensed her mistake, and after an awkward silence, pouted.

“I thought we could really have some fun out here, but if you’re going to be like that, we might as well go home to bed.”

They walked almost in silence to the house. Upstairs in their room, Mary Jane observed to Ellen before Linda returned from getting a drink of water, “I thought it would really be great to have a Christian friend, but there’s still no one like my dear good, wonderful sisters!”

“That a real mouthful! But we must be nicer and try to keep her happy.”

Since Ellen insisted, Mary Jane and Linda shared the bed, while she slept on the floor. Soon snugly settled under the covers, Linda began: “Let’s talk. Kid, who do you think I’ll marry when I get older – I mean, what kind of a guy?”

“Well, – a-a-Christian, I hope!” was the answer. “Uh, oh well, sure – but I mean, do you think he’ll be handsome?”

Mary Jane thought in the darkness of the brown curls and sparkling brown eyes on the pillow beside her and answered, “Oh, definitely! But that’s a long way off. Why worry about that now!”

“You old kill-joy! Aren’t you even concerned about who you’re going to marry?”

“Yes, but – anyway, I don’t know anybody to worry about.” A huge yawn escaped.

“Don’t you have a spark of romance in you? How dull can you kids be?”

“Oh, Linda, I used to feed on one romance after another. In fact I just about read the whole library. But I quit it. There was no food for my soul, and well – it was Jennie who helped me to stop it. I’m so much happier and better off now that I don’t read all that trash – I mean the worldly stuff. I didn’t have any Christian books.”

“You’re so goody-goody you make me mad! What can we do around here anyway?”

“Jennie has some nice things planned. You’ll see; we’ll have fun – first a picnic to Freemont’s Fort, a cook-out at the Paint Mines. We’ll go choke-cherry picking too and – –.”

“Okay. Maybe it won’t be so bad.”

“Linda, I hope you don’t think we’re trying to act ‘holier than thou’? We know so few young people and there just aren’t any boys in our meeting here that we can get acquainted with. There’s not much to talk about.”

“What about Roderick? He’s terribly handsome.”

“But he never comes to meeting and isn’t really good company – spiritually. You go to school with him, don’t you?”

“Yeah, he doesn’t have a good reputation, even at school. But I wish he’d look my way –.”

“You’d better wish he doesn’t. His dad did say that Rod told him us girls were the ‘salt of the earth.’ But he prefers other seasoning, I guess. Funny! His dad wants him to go with a Christian girl, but he himself won’t even come to meeting. He’s maybe agnostic. I feel sorry for his wife. It just shows how an unequal yoke can work, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” And Linda yawned. So the girls said goodnight and were soon asleep.

When Mercy Broke All Her Bounds: Chapter 23

It was a good summer. The Bowman stayed on for perhaps six weeks of it. Besides Linda’s visit, Mary Jane and Ellen each had a week in the city in exchange. Although there was a lack of appreciation of the Lord’s things with her, they had some nice times together. It wasn’t hard to remember back to days, not far gone, when they had felt so much the same way about many things. And Linda was new amongst them.

One beautiful Autumn evening, the children came in from the chores. Mamma looked grave.

“Where’s Daddy? Do you think he’ll be finished soon?” she asked.

Before anyone could answer, Daddy himself stepped in the door.

“Right here, Mom. Something wrong?”

“Helen French had to cancel our reading today. Joe is sick. In fact, she sounded so worried, that I expect she’s called the doctor by now. You don’t suppose –?”

“Now I thought I saw ole Doc’s car driving down the lane along about 4:30 this afternoon. Curious, too. I’ve had Joe on my heart all afternoon. We’ll make it a matter of special prayer; and I think I’ll run up there come mornin’ and see if he’ll talk to me.”

Mary Jane had a special thing to say, too, that evening. She had been wanting to take her place at the Lord’s table in answer to His request to remember Him and show forth His death to the world until He comes. Now that she enjoyed settled peace, she felt that she wanted to do this very much. Dear Daddy and Mamma wiped tears of joy away when she found her opportunity to talk of it. Their hearts were full. A fervent prayer of thanksgiving was made; and afterward, a special request was added for Joe French. Simultaneously with the “amen” the Hillman’s long and short rang. Daddy hastened to answer.

“That you, Helen? I hear Joe’s purty sick. Is that so? No need to ask – I was already aimin’ to come up tomorrow. Thanks for callin’. It’s a promise. Tell him to mind what ole Doc said. Bye!”

“Well, the doctor come out, all right. Says he’s got ‘milk leg’ or ‘flee-bitus,’ I think she said. That’s a blood clot hung up in there and it could be serious. She asked me to come up – says Joe’s different, and she thinks he’ll see me.”

“Oh, I hope so! Maybe you ought not to wait. What if –?” Mamma was worried.

“She said the doctor ordered absolute quiet. I thought of that too, but perhaps it’d be too much tonight. It’s in the Lord’s hands, Mom. Now don’t worry.”

For Mr. Hillman to make a social call on Joe French was heretofore unheard of. Their relationship up to this time was strictly business, and that as brief as possible. Mr. Hillman did try at times to bring about a “thaw.” It was just that Joe couldn’t stand Ned’s clear, honest gaze and the “religion” he stood for. But today Joe received his old neighbor with almost pitiful eagerness. He seemed grateful when, after a few pleasantries, an offer was made to read to him from the Bible. Mr. Hillman thought best to avoid ‘preaching’ and limited his time to reading clear gospel passages. At the end, Mr. Hillman asked, “Joe, would you like to have this peace we’ve been reading about? Would you like to know your sins completely washed away?”

The large eyes never left the speaker’s. He listened as if fearing to miss a single word. Here was a man in desperate earnest.

“Yes, Ned. I would. I’m an awful sinner.”

“Do you believe these words I have read, that they are the true Word of God to you, Joe?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Do you understand, from what I’ve read to you, that all God requires is for you to give to Him, the Lord Jesus Christ, your load of sin and, by simple faith, just take His salvation? ‘If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus and believe in thy heart that God has raised Him from the dead, thou shalt be saved’ (Rom. 10:9). The blood of Jesus Christ God’s Son cleanseth us from all sin’ (1 John 1:7).
“Yes, I do.”

“Do you believe that Jesus Christ, God’s eternal Son died on Calvary’s cross for you – that He bore God’s holy wrath against your sins so that you might have a clean slate?”

The big eyes closed. It seemed almost too much to take in.

“He did all that for – how can I be sure it was for me?”

Slowly John 3:16 was read. “Now, just who does that word ‘whosoever’ take in, Joe?” Ned asked. “M–me. Yes, I believe – Lord, I believe.”

The big eyes turned upward.

“Thank You, Lord.” And then they turned to Ned. “Thank you.” His strength seemed almost gone. Mr. Hillman slipped quietly’ out of the room.

Driving the short distance home was completely automatic.

“I just cain’t hardly take it in! Joe French – saved!” he kept saying over and over. “Mercy has broke all bounds!”

Back in the presence of his eagerly awaiting wife, he still felt he was in a dream – that soon he would have to awaken to reality.

“Well, Mom. Good news! That is, unless I’m walkin’ in my sleep –.” He sat down and told her word for word just what had been said.

“Praise, oh praise the Lord!” was all Mamma could say between her tears. At last she sighed happily. “My cup runneth over, truly! Last night Mary Jane’s asking to be received at the Lord’s table, and today, Joe saved. Remember, I said I thought he would be some day?”

“Yes, Mom. You had the faith. I confess to doubt. In fact it’s mighty hard fer me to believe it – now that it’s happened.”

“Just think – when he’s well – they can be baptized together!”

“Yep! That’ll be the day! Now, do you suppose you could touch ground long enough to get us some lunch on? I just remembered Cliff needs help out there in the field.”

Mamma laughed happily and set herself to putting out the lunch things. All day the house rang with songs of praise. Telephone conversations confirmed the news – that Joe was indeed rejoicing in Christ as his Savior. He tried to persuade Helen to read to him from the Bible most of the time and she was torn between her joy to do so and the doctor’s strict orders for absolute quiet.

“He seems to really be getting stronger, Eva,” she said happily. “I think the Lord is raising him up.”

That is why it was such a shock the next morning when Mamma heard her dear sister’s tense voice on the phone saying, “Eva! He’s gone! My Joe’s gone – to be with Christ!”

Quietly in the night God had called his spirit to Himself. She had found him with a smile on his face.

Daddy heard the news sadly. “I had hoped that Joe would be with us a while and have an opportunity to witness for the Lord since he’d been such an influence the other way in these parts. Saved ‘so as by fire’! That’s what you’d call it, I guess. Brought to the Lord on Wednesday and called to Himself on Thursday. That’s mighty close! But we must not question the Lord’s wisdom. You know, Mom, I was thinkin’ it all over last night. Poor old Joe had a mighty hard row ahead. He’d be left with almost no way to make his livin’, seein’ as how he’d have to give up the boot-leggin’ – bein’ a Christian now. He didn’t know the first thing about teachin’ those boys o’ his to farm. Oh, Balzar makes a fairly honest stab at it, but it’d be starvation rations at the rate they’ve been farmin’. I kinda believe that boy Balzar might be the Lord’s all right. I aim to help the lad all I kin. Looks to me like the Lord delivered poor old Joe out of a well-nigh impossible situation – him bein’ a hunch back cripple and all. At any rate, God in His wisdom handled it this away. His goodness and mercy has surely broke all bounds. But I shore wouldn’t advise anyone to wait as long as Joe did. No chance at all for sendin’ up a reward. The thief on the cross made a confession to the world at a time when all was against the blessed Lord and the record is there fer all ages to read. Just that last testimony to his children and brother is all the chance Joe had. We’d surely ought to value and use the time the Lord has give to us.”

The children were solemnized. At last Jennie spoke.

“Daddy, I’ll have to confess, like you, I doubted that he’d ever be saved. I was reading just this morning in Isaiah 40:11: ‘He shall gather the lambs in His arms.’ I thought of Joe so crippled and bent over, a babe in Christ now. I was looking forward to showing him love and kindness. Before, I had a hard time not to despise him for being so mean all the time.”

“Yes, Jennie,” Daddy repeated. “ ‘He shall gather the lambs in His arms.’ “ He wiped a tear away. “He’s already took that one literally to His arms. One by one He gathers ‘em in.”

A little thrill shivered through Lori. “Makes you just wonder what wonderful thing the Lord will show us next! His presence is – well, like the Lord was really walking among us.”

The rest of the day duties were done rather automatically. A placid moon arose large and round over the French’s house to the east and soft sage-scented breezes played through the dry autumn grasses. When the last chore was finished, Lori spoke, “I feel like a little walk would – sort of clear my head. Who wants to go too?”

Jennie, Ellen and Mary Jane spoke almost together, “The very thing! Let’s go.”

“What an unspeakably gorgeous night it is!” Lori breathed. “The air is so fresh, and that moon! Don’t you feel close to the Lord since all these things have happened? And in His wonderful creation too! I love these old prairies – especially in the moonlight.”

Just then a far-away plaintive call of a lonely coyote wafted over from the big hills to the south.

“The time was when that sound made me shiver to my boot heels.” Ellen remarked. “But when you’re sure you’re the Lord’s, nothing seems too scarey.”

“Isn’t that the truth? Why I almost like to hear the wind moan in the eaves at night now. It used to make me groan with some nameless dread.” Mary Jane observed.

“Why don’t we sit down here,” Jennie suggested, “and just enjoy the peace of God and the beauty of the sky-scape and landscape. There’s hardly room in the sky for all those stars.”

As Mary Jane drew her knees up to a comfortable position, she noticed a little weed caught in her shoe. Pulling it free, she saw in the bright moonlight an old friend, a sprig of lamb’s quarters. “Lamb’s quarters – look girls! Jennie you were reading ‘He gathers the lambs’ – this weed speaks to us Hillmans of feeding them, and then – like Joe French – He carries them home –.”

“Let’s sing,

‘How good is the God we adore,

Our faithful, unchangeable Friend –’” Ellen suggested warmly.

The four girls joined in a harmony of heartfelt praise to God. Down on the back porch sat Daddy, gently petting Bruno, as he meditated.

“Mom, step out here a minute,” he called. As she did so he pointed to the little group up the hill. The sweet strains of the hymn carried on the breezes unusually well. “Now, that’s mighty sweet music! A feller just cain’t keep still at a time like this.” And he and Mamma joined in on the last verse, “‘Tis Jesus the First and the Last, Whose Spirit shall guide us safe home; We’ll praise Him for all that is past, And trust Him for all that’s to come.”

Courtesy of BibleTruthPublishers.com. Most likely this text has not been proofread. Any suggestions for spelling or punctuation corrections would be warmly received. Please email them to: BTPmail@bibletruthpublishers.com.

Lambs and Lamb's Quarters