The Alden children, Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny, ran out of their grandfather’s house, laughing. They raced each other to the nearby garden with a fountain in the middle near where their boxcar stood.
Henry, who was fourteen and the oldest, reached the boxcar first and pulled open the door. Jessie and Violet got there next, at the same time. They turned and watched six-year-old Benny, puffing in the hot August sun, catch up with them.
“It’s not fair,” Benny said. “I’m always going to be the youngest and never win a race with you.”
“Someday you’ll beat even Henry,” Violet said reassuringly. Though she was only ten she often seemed more considerate than many older people.
The children climbed into the boxcar, followed by their dog, Watch, and looked around.
“Whew,” Benny said, “it’s so dirty.”
Henry got the broom Jessie had made when they had all lived in the boxcar, and started sweeping the floor. “We haven’t been in here for a while. That’s why it’s so dusty. But I like it anyway.”
Jessie smiled and spoke in the voice she used when she wanted to sound older than twelve. “Remember when we ran away and lived here after mother and father died? I think I can remember every day. Remember how we hid from Grandfather?”
“Yes,” Benny said, “because we thought he was mean and we wouldn’t like living with him.”
“And look how wonderful and kind he is,” Violet said. “And how happy we are with him.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Henry said. “Because we love him and want to plan a wonderful party for his birthday next month. We have a lot of work to do.”
“Let’s get started then,” Jessie said. “It’s awfully hot in here.”
“Wait,” Benny interrupted. “First let’s eat. I’m—”
“Hungry,” Violet finished for him. She reached for the basket she had brought with her. “Mrs. McGregor packed a little snack for us.”
Jessie went to the shelf that held the dishes they had found and used when they lived in the boxcar. She took four cups.
But Violet said, “We only need three. I brought Benny’s cup from the house. I couldn’t forget Benny’s cup.”
Benny took a cracked pink cup from the basket and held it out. Henry lifted out spice cookies and a carton of milk and filled Benny’s cup. Jessie took peaches and plums and put them in a bowl. Then she piled bananas on top of the fresh fruit.
The boxcar was exactly the same as it had been when the children had lived in it, except that Mrs. McGregor had given the children four plump, brightly colored cushions so they could sit on them on the floor. Now they got comfortable and chewed on the delicious cookies.
“Well,” Jessie asked, “what should we do for Grandfather’s party?”
“We have to have a cake and ice cream,” Benny said positively. “You can’t have a birthday party without a cake.”
“I’ll help Mrs. McGregor bake the cake,” Jessie said.
“No! I’ll do that,” Benny shouted.
Violet laughed. “I knew you’d say that. Well, I’ll play the violin for Grandfather. I’ll be glad to do that. I’ll have to think about what to play.”
“And I’ll decorate the dining room,” Jessie said.
“I think I’ll write a poem,” Henry said. “We were studying poetry in school at the end of the term. I’ll be able to put what I learned to good use.”
“We have to buy him a present, too,” Violet said. “What should it be?”
“Model cars,” Benny said.
The other children laughed. Henry said, “I saw Grandfather looking at a sweater in Barlow’s Men’s Shop last week. I think he liked it. We could all chip in, and I’ll buy it.”
“I don’t have much money,” Benny said, thoughtfully. “I won’t be able to pay my share.”
“We’ll work all that out, Benny. Don’t worry,” Jessie said, patting his shoulder.
Violet suddenly jumped up. “I know. Let’s dress up for the party.”
“You mean I have to wear a tie?” Benny asked mournfully.
“No,” Violet said. “I mean dress up in costume. There are all kinds of old clothes in the attic. We could use those. It will be like a masquerade. Grandfather would love it. I know it.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Jessie said eagerly.
Henry made a face. “I don’t know. Dressing up is sort of childish. Don’t you think?”
“No!” Violet and Jessie said at the same time.
“Come on,” Jessie grabbed Henry’s hand. “Let’s go up to the attic right now. I know you’ll like dressing up.”
They ran back to the house and into the front hall. Watch raced in after them. Mrs. McGregor came out of the kitchen with flour on her hands and nose. “What’s all the excitement about? Where are you all off to in such a hurry?”
“We’re going up to the attic so we can find dress up clothes for Grandfather’s party,” Violet said, catching her breath.
“What party? What’s this all about?” Mrs. McGregor asked.
“We’ll tell you later,” Jessie shouted as they all ran for the stairs.
“Open the windows up there. It must be a hundred degrees in that attic,” Mrs. McGregor called after them.
Upstairs, Jessie pulled open a window. “Whew! Mrs. McGregor was right. It’s really hot in here.”
Violet was already poking around. She found an old, big straw hat and tried it on. She ran to a standing mirror and giggled at her image.
“It’s just right for you,” Jessie cried. “It’s lavender. Your favorite color.”
Henry found a velvet coat and slipped into it. “How about this?”
Benny had opened a trunk and was pulling out old toys—blocks and balls and a jump rope and a jack-in-the-box. “I like it up here. I’m glad we came.”
Jessie was now standing silently in a corner with her back to her brothers and sister. Violet looked at her. “What did you find, Jessie?”
Slowly, Jessie turned around. In her hands she had a small painting in a carved gold frame. “Look, how beautiful this is,” she said.
Violet put down the hat and moved toward Jessie. “Ooh, you’re right, she is beautiful,” she gasped. “I don’t think I’d ever get tired of looking at it.”
The painting was of a lovely young woman in an evening gown. Around her throat was a necklace of sparkling blue sapphires that matched her eyes. The woman was staring out of the picture with wide eyes, and she had a small smile on her red lips. She looked very happy.
“Who do you suppose she is?” Benny asked.
Henry moved closer to the painting. “She looks like the pictures Grandfather has shown us of Grandmother.”
“But those pictures were of an older lady,” Jessie said.
“Well,” Violet said thoughtfully, “this could have been painted when Grandmother was much younger.”
“But if this is Grandmother, why is the picture hidden away up here?” Henry wondered.
Benny shrugged. “Why don’t we ask Grandfather. He’ll know. Grandfather always knows everything.”
Jessie laughed. “Benny, you always get right to the point.” |