PIECES OF LAUGHTER AND FUN

  PIECES OF LAUGHTER AND FUN

  from days gone by ...

  Gooey face cream of white wax and honey, guaranteed by Godey's Lady's Book to remove freckles ... but impossible to get off!

  The dog no one believed could spell ... until he proved himself by rescuing two not-so-smart little girls.

  Itchy, long flannel underwear that wrinkled under the girls' white stockings ... until someone mysteriously cut the legs off!

  Laugh, enjoy, and read on.

  ... You're never too old for a good story!

  Still More

  Stories from

  Grandma's

  Attic

  Arleta Richardson

  Illustrated by Dora Leder

  Chariot Books

  STILL MORE STORIES FROM GRANDMA'S ATTIC © 1980 David C. Cook Publishing Co.

  First printing, July 1980

  All rights reserved. Except for brief excerpts for review purposes, no part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form without written permission from the publisher.

  Illustrations by Dora Leder

  Published by David C. Cook Publishing Co., Elgin, IL 60120 Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN 0-89191-252-2

  LC 80-66590

  This book is dedicated with special love

  to all my Hermon family

  GRANDMA'S STORIES

  Introduction

  1 Face Cream from Godey's Lady's Book 11

  2 It Rhymes with Mop25

  3 High Society33

  4 The Dog Who Could Spell44

  5 The Wrinkled Stockings55

  6 Whenever I'm Afraid66

  7 Grandpa Hobbs74

  8 The Spelling Bee85

  9 The Prettiest House in the County96

  10 My Own Boss107

  11 The Harvest Home Festival118

  12 The Surprise Birthday Present126

  13 The Perfect Party137

  14 Windfalls147

  WHEN GRANDMA WAS A

  LITTLE GIRL

  ONE HUNDRED YEARS! What a long, long time ago that is! Not very many people are still alive who can remember that far back. But through the magic of stories, we can be right there again.

  When I was a little girl, I thought no one could tell a story like my grandma.

  "Tell me about when you were a little girl," I would say. Soon I would be back on the farm in northern Michigan with young Mabel, who became my grandmother, her mother and father, and her brothers, Reuben and Roy.

  The old kitchen where I sat to hear many of Grandma's stories didn't look the same as when she was a little girl. Then there was no elecricity nor running water. But my grandma still lived in the house she grew up in. I had no trouble imagining all the funny jams that grandma and her best friend, Sarah Jane, got into. Or how it felt to wear long flannel stockings and high-buttoned shoes.

  From the dusty old attic to the front parlor with its slippery furniture, grandma's old house was a storybook just waiting to be opened. I was fortunate to have a grandma who knew just how to open it. She loved to tell a story just as much as I loved to hear one.

  Come with me now, back to the old kitchen in that Michigan farmhouse and enjoy the laughter and tears of many years ago....

  Face Cream from

  Godey's Lady's Book

  RECEIVING MAIL always excited me. I never had to be told to get the mail for grandma on my way home from school. But sometimes the mail became even more important. Like the time I was watching for something I had ordered from Woman's Home Companion.

  When the small package finally arrived, my face revealed how excited I was.

  "What did you get a sample of this time?" grandma asked as I came in proudly carrying the precious box.

  "You'll see. Just wait till I show you," I said, promising grandma the box held something special.

  Quickly I tore the wrapping paper off the small box. Inside was a jar of skin cream for wrinkles.

  Grandma laughed when she saw it. "You certainly don't need that," she said. "Now it might do me some good if those things ever really worked."

  "You aren't wrinkled, grandma," I protested. "Your face is nice and smooth."

  "Perhaps so. But not because of what I've rubbed on it. More than likely I've inherited a smooth skin."

  She took the jar of cream and looked at the ingredients. "This doesn't look quite as dangerous as some stuff Sarah Jane and I mixed up one day. Did I ever tell you about that?"

  "No, I'm sure you didn't," I replied. "Tell me now."

  Grandma picked up her crocheting, and I settled back to listen to a story about grandma and her friend, Sarah Jane, when they were my age.

  Sarah Jane had a cousin who lived in the city. This cousin often came to stay at Sarah Jane's for a few days. She brought things with her that we were not accustomed to seeing.

  One morning as Sarah Jane and I were walking to school together Sarah Jane told me some very exciting news.

  "My cousin Laura will be here tomorrow. She's going to stay all next week. Won't that be fun?"

  "Yes," I agreed. "I'm glad she's coming. What do you think she'll bring this time?"

  "Probably some pretty new dresses and hats," Sarah Jane guessed. "She might even let us try them on."

  "Oh, I'm sure she wouldn't want us to try on her dresses. But maybe she wouldn't mind if we peeked at ourselves in the mirror to see how the hats looked."

  Laura arrived the next day with several new hats. She amiably agreed that we might try them on.

  They were too big, and had a tendency to slide down over our noses. But to us, they were the latest fashion.

  As we laid the hats back on the bed, Sarah Jane spied something else that interested her. It was a magazine for ladies. We had not seen more than half-a-dozen magazines in our lives, so this was exciting.

  "Oh, Laura," Sarah Jane cried, "may we look at your magazine? We'll be very careful."

  "Why, yes. I'm not going to be reading it right away. Go ahead."

  Eagerly we snatched the magazine and ran out to the porch. The cover pictured a lady with a very fashionable dress and hat, carrying a frilly parasol. The name of the magazine

  was Godey's Lady's Book.

  Ooh! Look at the ruffles on her dress!" Sarah Jane exclaimed. "Wouldn't you just love to have one dress with all those ribbons and things?"

  "Yes, but there's little chance I'll ever have it," I replied. "Ma wouldn't iron that many ruffles for anything. Besides, we're not grown-up enough to have dresses like that. It looks like it might be organdy, doesn't it?"

  "Mmm-hum," Sarah Jane agreed. "It looks like something soft, all right. And look at her hair. It must be long to make that big a roll around her head."

  We spread the magazine across our laps and studied each page carefully. Nothing escaped our notice.

  "I sure wish we were grown up," Sarah Jane sighed. "Think how much prettier we'd be."

  "Yes, and how much more fun we could have. These ladies don't spend all their time going to school and doing chores. They just get all dressed up and sit around looking pretty."

  We looked for a moment in silence; then Sarah Jane noticed something interesting. "Look here, Mabel. Here's something you can make to get rid of wrinkles on your face."

  I looked where she was reading.

  Guaranteed to remove wrinkles. Melt together a quantity of white wax and honey. When it becomes liquid, add the juice,of several lemons. Spread the mixture liberally on your face and allow it to dry. In addition to smoothing out your wrinkles, this formula will leave your skin soft, smooth, and freckle free.

  "But we don't have any wrinkles," I pointed out.

  "That doesn't matter," Sarah Jane replied. "If it takes w
rinkles away, it should keep us from getting them, too. Besides," she added critically, "it says it takes away freckles. And you have plenty of those."

  I rubbed my nose reflectively. "I sure do. Do you suppose that stuff -really would take them off?"

  "We can try it and see. I'll put some on if you will. Where shall we mix it up?"

  This would be a problem, since Sarah Jane's mother was baking in her kitchen. It would be better to work where we wouldn't have to answer questions about what we were doing.

  "Let's go to your house and see what your mother is doing," Sarah Jane suggested.

  We hurriedly returned the magazine to Laura's bedroom and dashed back outdoors.

  "Do you have all the things we need to put in it?" Sarah Jane asked.

  "I know we have wax left over from ma's jelly glasses. And I'm sure we have lemons. But I don't know how much honey is left.

  "I know where we can get some, though." I continued. "Remember that hollow tree in the woods? We found honey there last week."

  Soon we were on our way to collect it in a small pail.

  "This is sure going to be messy and sticky to put on our faces," I commented as we filled the pail.

  "Probably the wax takes the sticky out," Sarah Jane replied. "Anyway, if it takes away your freckles and makes our skin smooth, it won't matter if it is a little gooey. I wonder how long we leave it on?"

  "The directions said to let it dry," I reminded her. "I suppose the longer you leave it there, the more good it does. We'll have to take it off before we go in to supper, I guess."

  "I guess so," Sarah Jane exclaimed. "I don't know what your brothers would say. But I'm not going to give Caleb a chance to make fun of me."

  I knew what Reuben and Roy would say, too, and I was pretty sure I could predict what ma would say. There seemed to be no reason to let them know about it.

  Fortune was with us, for the kitchen was empty when we cautiously opened the back door. Ma heard us come in and called down from upstairs. "Do you need something, Mabel?"

  "No, ma'am," I answered. "But we might like a cookie."

  "Help yourself," ma replied. "I'm too busy tearing rags to come down right now. You can pour yourselves some milk, too."

  I assured her that we could. With a sigh of relief, we went to the pantry for a kettle in which to melt the wax and honey.

  "This looks big enough," Sarah Jane said. "You start that getting hot, and I'll squeeze the lemons. Do you think two will be enough?"

  "I guess two is 'several.' Maybe we can tell by the way it looks whether we need more or not."

  "I don't see how," Sarah Jane argued. "We never saw any of this stuff before. But we'll start with two, anyway."

  I placed the pan containing the wax and honey on the hottest part of the stove and pulled up a chair to sit on.

  "Do you suppose I ought to stir it?" I inquired. "It doesn't look as though it's mixing very fast."

  "Give it time," Sarah Jane advised. "Once the wax melts down, it will mix."

  After a short time, the mixture began to bubble.

  "There, see?" she said, stirring it with a spoon. "You can't tell which is wax and which is honey. I think it's time to put in the lemon juice." She picked up the juice, but I stopped her.

  "You have to take the seeds out, first, silly. You don't want knobs all over your face, do you?"

  "I guess you're right. That wouldn't look too good, would it?"

  She dug the seeds out, and we carefully stirred the lemon juice into the pan.

  "Umm, it smells good," I observed.

  Sarah Jane agreed. "In fact, it smells a little like ma's cough syrup. Do you want to taste it?"

  "Sure, I'll take a little taste." I licked some off the spoon and smacked my lips. "It's fine," I reported. "If it tastes that good, it will certainly be safe to use. Let's take it to my room and try it."

  We carefully lifted the kettle from the stove.

  Together we carried the kettle upstairs and set it on my dresser.

  "It will have to cool a little before we put it on," I said.

  "What if the wax gets hard again? We'll

  have to take it downstairs and heat it all over."

  "It won't," I assured her. "The honey will keep it from getting too hard."

  By the time the mixture was cool enough to use, it was thick and gooey—but still spreadable.

  "Well, here goes," Sarah Jane said. She dipped a big blob out and spread it on her face. I did the same. Soon our faces were covered with the sticky mess.

  "Don't get it in your hair," I warned. "It looks like it would be awfully hard to get out. I wonder how long it will take to dry?"

  "The magazine didn't say that. It would probably dry faster outside in the sun. But someone is sure to see us out there. We'd better stay here.... I wish we had brought the magazine to look at."

  "We can look at the Sears catalog," I suggested. "Let's play like we're ordering things for our own house."

  We sat down on the floor and spread the catalog out in front of us. After several minutes, Sarah Jane felt her face.

  "I think it's dry, Mabel," she announced, hardly moving her lips. "It doesn't bend or anything."

  I touched mine and discovered the same thing. The mask was solid and hard. It was impossible to move my mouth to speak, so my voice had a funny sound when I answered her. "So's mine. Maybe we'd better start taking it off now."

  We ran to the mirror to look at ourselves.

  "We sure look funny." Sarah Jane laughed the best she could without moving her face. "How did the magazine say to get it off?"

  Suddenly we looked at each other in dismay. The magazine hadn't said anything about removing the mixture, only how to fix and spread it on.

  "Well, we've done it again," I said. "How come everything we try works until we're ready to undo it? We'll just have to figure some way to get rid of it."

  We certainly did try. We pushed the heavy masks that covered our faces. We pulled them, knocked on them, and tried to soak them off. They would not budge.

  I think we used too much wax and not enough honey," Sarah Jane puffed as she flopped back down on the bed.

  "That's certainly a great thing to think of now," I answered crossly. "The only way to move wax is to melt it. And we certainly can't stick our faces in the fire!"

  "Mine feels like it's already on fire. I don't think this stuff is good for your skin."

  "You're going to have to think about more than that," I told her. "Or this stuff will be your skin. There has to be some way to get it off."

  "We've tried everything we can think of. We'll just have to go down and let your ma help us."

  That was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. But I could see no other alternative. Slowly we trudged down to the kitchen.

  Ma was working at the stove, and she said cheerfully, "Are you girls hungry again? It won't be long until suppertime, so you'd better not eat . . ."

  She turned around as she spoke. When she spotted us standing in the doorway, her eyes widened in disbelief.

  "What on earth ... ? What have you done to yourselves?"

  I burst into tears. The sight of drops of tears running down that ridiculous mask must have been more than ma could stand. Suddenly she began to laugh. She laughed until she had to sit down.

  "It's not funny, ma. We can't get it off! We'll have to wear it the rest of our lives!"

  Ma controlled herself long enough to come over and feel my face. "What did you put in it?" she asked. "That will help me know how to take it off."

  We told her.

  "If you two ever live to grow up, it will only be the Lord's good mercy. The only thing we can do is apply something hot enough to melt the wax," ma told us quickly.

  "But we boiled the wax, ma," I cried. "You can't boil our faces!"

  "No, I won't try anything as drastic as that. I'll just use hot towels until it gets soft enough to pull away."

  After several applications, we were finally able to start peeling
the mixture off. As it came loose, our skin came with it.

  "Ouch! That hurts," I cried.

  But ma could not stop. By the time the last bit of wax and honey were removed, our faces were fiery red and raw.

  "What did we do wrong?" Sarah Jane wailed. "We made it just like the magazine said."

  "You may have used the wrong quantities, or left it on too long," ma said. "At any rate, I don't think you'll try it again."

  "I know I won't," Sarah Jane moaned. "I'm going to tell Laura she should ignore that page in her magazine." She looked at me. "The stuff did one thing they said it would, Mabel. I don't see any freckles."

  "There's no skin left, either," I retorted. "I'd

  rather have freckles than a face like this." "Never mind." Ma tried to soothe us. "Your

  faces will be all right in a couple of days." "A couple of days!" I howled. "We can't go to

  school looking like this!"

  We did, though." Grandma laughed as she finished the story. "After a while we were able to laugh with the others over our foolishness."

  I looked at the little jar of cream that had come in the mail.

  "I don't think I'll use this, grandma. I guess I'll just let my face get wrinkled if it wants to!"

  It Rhymes with Mop

  ONE DAY WHEN grandma and I were eating lunch, my milk glass happened to tip over.

  "Oh, dear," grandma sighed. "There goes the tablecloth again. When are you going to learn to keep your mind on what you're doing?"

  I pushed my chair away from the table as she came running with the dishcloth to mop up the milk.

  "I'm sorry. I guess I wasn't looking."

  "No, I guess you weren't," grandma agreed. "You're just like I used to be. You enjoy talking so much that you pay no attention to what you're doing. Someday you're going to do this in someone else's home, and you'll really be embarrassed."

  "I'm always careful when I eat out," I assured her. "I never spill things when I'm visiting."

  "I wouldn't be too sure about that," grandma warned. "Habits are not easy to break. Looking around the room while you wave a glass in the air is one of your bad habits. It used to be one of mine, too," she chuckled. "It earned me a name I had a hard time living down."